#but then again she did abandon the empire so is she really a sith warrior anyway aha

[tricos-here]

saw that new armor in the cartel store and was like, I’m gonna draw Xasroe in it - but at this point this a mandalorian, not a sith warrior 👊😂

[gmariam19]

Hi, friends! I hit a follower milestone not too long ago - thank you thank you thank you! Like I did for some other milestones, I wanted to share some of my writing. So here is the first chapter of my big WIP, the one I laid out almost a year ago, the one where Big Things Happen to Poe and Finn Does Big Things, the one that got stuck several times but is now moving nicely thanks to NaNoWriMo. (I’ve added another 10k already - and it’s only halfway through November! Yay!) It’s not much--a long introduction, really. But there is so much going on in this story, I can’t wait to finish it and share it!  So thank you - and enjoy! There is more below the break - and more to come! :) EDIT: This story is now posted! It is called Reclaim the Stars and can be found on AO3 HERE! Thank you for reading!

Chapter One  

Poe Dameron is bored.

There are at least a dozen different things he should do, from reviewing the latest intelligence data to the briefing with Connix he keeps putting off; from going over the maintenance specs on the two Y-wings they'd found abandoned on Dantooine (and wouldn't he rather be working on ships instead of always reading about them) to the tactical, medical, and supply reports for their new base of operations. And that doesn't even include the constant stream of communication with the New Republic and various other planetary governments that Poe dislikes because he's terrible at it, lacking the patience and tact necessary for sensitive diplomatic discussions.

There is always something to do now that the war is over, and yet sometimes Poe wants nothing to do with it. It had been good at first, in the heady days after Exegol when they'd been so relieved to finally stop fighting, ready to move on and rebuild the galaxy they'd fought so hard to preserve. The galaxy had believed in them, had listened to them, because they'd destroyed an entire Sith Fleet, hadn't they? Leia Organa had been telling them for years that they were in danger; she'd been more right than anyone could have possibly imagined, and it was her Resistance that had saved them.

And yet, six months later, it's as if the galaxy has already forgotten the lessons of the past. After skirmishes with both the Resistance fleet and the New Republic, the First Order finally surrendered, and every day it seems a new treaty is being signed somewhere to ensure peace.  In most parts of the galaxy, planets are rebuilding, and that peace seems to be slowly settling. Yet the one thing they need most now is the one thing no one will even consider. They don't need more diplomats, or treaties, or promises to sign more treaties with more diplomats; they need security, and no one will listen to him.

Poe isn't bored; he is frustrated.

The New Republic is still slow in pulling itself together, has been since the destruction of the Hosnian system. The fall of the First Order has splintered it even more as some systems call for a more central government to bring stability to the galaxy, while others maintain they will remain independent. It's the same argument, the same players; an endless cycle, it seems, of war and peace.

The galaxy doesn't need a central set of governing principles—recent history has proven the near impossibility of such a thing.  Better to step back and let memories of oppression fade. Yet the discord between so many opposing philosophies after the fall of the Empire had allowed the First Order to settle in the Unknown Regions and slowly build its fleet, as well as its power. That can't be allowed to happen again.

Poe believes more than anything that now is the time to put in place new organizations to maintain security in the galaxy. He isn't calling for a governing military power; both the Empire and the First Order showed that military strength could be defeated. No, they need people in the Outer Rim, and the Unknown Territories, even Wild Space, guarding them against another Exegol, another Sith Fleet. It had been too easy for Palpatine to disappear into deep space and spend decades rebuilding. The New Republic needs to make sure it never happens again. Poe has been suggesting it for months, has volunteered to lead a division of the New Republic Navy devoted to patrolling the borders of deep space and gathering intelligence. Yet no one bothers to listen anymore, and they’ve found little support outside of a handful of allies who scraped together a few starfighters and a small cruiser for them.

It will happen again if there is no one to stop it. They know that something is happening out there already. They are rumors of entire villages being wiped out on distant worlds, and Poe had hoped that after Exegol, their word would be taken seriously. Apparently, that isn't the case; the New Republic is turning a blind eye yet again. Small villages on backwater planets apparently aren't worthy of concern.

It has been weeks since Poe has been up in his X-wing, and he misses it, wishes he was back in the cockpit making a difference, even if it's only recon and intelligence gathering. But more than that, he wishes the Senate would listen to him before another First Order springs up from the birthplace of the old.

Poe spends the morning helping set up more rooms in their new base, an impersonal prefab monstrosity some Senator had sent over as a thank-you gift to the freedom fighters who had saved the galaxy from a fleet of Sith Star Destroyers. Sure, they aren't sharing quarters in a cave any more, or sleeping in tents, but there is something about it that feels different, almost wrong. Maybe he isn't used to something so permanent, this symbol of victory— or of life moving on when he feels stuck.

Maybe it's too much like a consolation prize, a way to get them to stop talking about new threats when the galaxy wants to forget the old. The building reminds him of everything that needs to be done but isn't, everything that is happening and yet being ignored, and sometimes he is tempted to go back to the cave. He needs ships and people, not bricks and mortar.

After lunch Poe forces himself to find Connix and Kin and sit through the briefing. There is no news on Poe's latest appeal for funding the proposed Sentinel program. The criminal gangs that have grown in the vacuum of the First Order's sudden withdrawal are growing bolder and the Senate doesn't seem to be doing anything about them either. The New Republic is still a struggling morass of governments who can't agree on a damn thing, other than the Resistance is getting mouthy and needs to step back and let them handle it now. Some days it feels as hopeless as fighting the First Order. How had Leia done it, after the fall of the Empire?

Kin starts to go over his intelligence reports, but Poe stops listening and stares out the window, his leg bouncing restlessly. He tosses a speeder bolt from his pocket up in the air and resists the urge to spin around in his chair like a cadet. He thinks he hears something about another village attack, about Vi Moradi, about something going down on Nar Shadda, but he is too distracted.

Connix begins to go over the state of their new headquarters—it has only been a week since they moved in—and says something about a volcanic eruption on the other side of the moon that is threatening to rain down fire monkey piss. Poe frowns, wondering if he's heard her right. "What?" he asks. "Did you say fire monkey piss?"

"Yes, General," she replies.

"Is that a real thing?"

"Of course it is. From the volcano."

"What volcano?"

"There is no volcano," she tells him, shaking her head with a smile. "But it got your attention, didn't it?"

"Sorry," he says. "Kind of distracted, I guess."

Connix exchanges a look with Beaumont Kin, who shrugs and goes back to his datapad. She smiles, which Poe knows is her way of softening the coming blow. "Why don't you take a look at the Y-wings, sir? Commander Pava said she's making good progress. The Falcon should be back soon."

Damn, she knows him too well. He jumps up with a sheepish grin and leaves as fast as he can. Only to be kicked out of the landing area by Jess, then the maintenance area by Rose, and even the medical area by Dr. Khurana. So he finds BB-8 and goes for a walk, trying to work off the restless energy that is plaguing him that day. If he's honest, it’s been building for weeks, and it started not long after Finn left.

Finn is currently on his way back from an extended mission with Chewbacca, their official goal to search for other Stormtroopers who defected from the First Order after the surrender. In truth, they are the Resistance's unofficial eyes and ears at the borders, making contacts with every operative they can, gathering the intelligence they need to maintain the borders when the New Republic won't. They are the beginning of the proposed Sentinel program. Poe did the same thing before Finn had left, and Finn before him; they agreed to take turns, alternating their time away so that one of them is always around to deal with the New Republic.

Unfortunately, it also means they have barely seen one another for the last six weeks, and Poe misses Finn—going out on missions with him, leading with him. They make a good team, and in the weeks and months since Exegol, they've grown even closer. Not as close as Poe would like, but maybe someday. He thinks about it more and more, wonders if Finn feels the same. Of course, they’d have to be on the same planet at the same time.  And one of them would have to work up the courage to say something to the other. Poe’s still too scared to lose what he does have, so it probably won’t be him.

At least Finn finally told Poe that he is Force sensitive. It makes so much sense—so many things had clicked into place—that Poe often wonders how he hadn't figured it out himself. Finn is a natural leader, a brilliant fighter, and so in touch with his sense of self that of course it is the Force guiding him. He will be a great Jedi—maybe not a warrior, as Finn seems less interested in fighting now, but he could be a teacher, a leader.

Rey is training him, to help him understand his powers and learn some basic techniques. He trains in addition to his duties with the Resistance, and Poe worries about him. He feels like sometimes Finn struggles to find a balance between the two and hopes Rey isn't pushing him too hard. She went with Finn and Chewie, to continue working with him.

The Falcon has been gone for two weeks. They ran into a few remnants of the First Order, but nothing major, and Poe isn't sure if they've gathered any important intel other than what they felt safe transmitting.  They are returning several days early, and Poe is glad. He's missed them all, though if he admits it to himself, he's missed Finn more than anything, maybe even flying. He's grown so used to having Finn by his side over the past year, through the mission to Exegol, and as co-Generals, that he's felt almost incomplete the last six weeks.

And that’s the real problem: Poe is distracted. Finn is coming back, and Poe can't concentrate. It probably doesn't say a lot about his leadership skills, or his emotional state, but it's definitely the issue, and he continues around the lake again, talking with BB-8 about Finn and Rey and how much they have to catch up on when they return. If he complains about the New Republic and their lack of organization and support yet again, BB-8 has the good grace to listen and agree when he's already heard it a hundred times.

He goes around the entire lake a second time, ignoring the sun and the heat and the need for some water, and is about to start a third time when the little droid beeps excitedly and tells him that the Falcon has landed. Poe can't hold back a grin, and they hurry to the landing area as fast as they can.

The Falcon is in its usual place, and Chewbacca is coming down the ramp with some bags. Poe greets him warmly while BB-8 asks impatiently about Finn and Rey. Chewie tells them Finn's gone to find Poe.

"Only Connix said she kicked you out of your own briefing," says a voice behind them, and Poe turns to find Finn standing there, hands on his hips and a crooked grin on his face. "Because you couldn't concentrate."

Poe grins in response, closing the gap between them to pull Finn into a warm embrace. Maybe they aren't reuniting after a battle, but it has been a long time and Poe can't help it. He missed Finn and is relieved to see him—and Chewbacca, of course—unharmed when he knows anything could happen along the borders of unknown space. And he likes the feeling of Finn in his arms too much to resist holding him for a little longer than he probably should.

"Welcome back, buddy," he says, finally stepping back, but still holding onto Finn's arm.

"That's General Buddy," Finn laughs, and Poe rolls his eyes.

"That joke is getting old, you know," he tells him. "How are you? Where's Rey?" Apparently, that is the wrong thing to ask, because Finn's smile immediately disappears. Poe feels his stomach drop; has something happened to her? Why haven't they said anything?

"She's fine," Finn says, relaxing as he shakes his head. "You don't have to panic. She…well, she left. Went off on her own. Again."

Poe doesn't need the Force to know that Finn is upset about it, and in a way, he understands. Rey certainly does her fair share of running off by herself,  headlong into danger, and often without saying anything. Having worked many solo missions himself, however, Poe can also understand why. Sometimes working alone is easier, with less responsibility, less chance of getting someone hurt or killed. Get in, get it done, get out.

And Rey had grown up alone, abandoned on Jakku for years, until Finn had appeared and quite literally dragged her out of her solitary existence. It makes sense that after so many years on her own, sometimes she needs to be by herself. And Poe understands that as well: though most people wouldn't believe it, he needs time alone almost as much as he needs to be with people. It is one reason why he's such a good pilot, because he likes spending time in the cockpit with his own thoughts. And BB-8, of course.

Finn, however, had grown up surrounded by other Stormtroopers, never having a minute to himself yet always alone in a system that discouraged individuality and attachment. Finn seems to crave contact and companionship, and though he understands when someone like Poe needs their space for a little while, Rey's stubborn desire to go off on her own without warning—or protection— is still something Finn finds frustrating even after all this time.

"I see," says Poe, though he doesn't know the first thing about it, other than Rey is gone, he hadn't got to say goodbye, and Finn is upset. "Well, I'm damn glad to see you, and I have all sorts of questions, but I won't bother you yet. Want to see your new room?"

Finn’s eyes light up and he smiles gratefully at Poe. "Yeah, I would. I'm sorry you had to handle the big move without me."

"It's not like we had a lot to move," Poe points out. "We were living in a cave, remember?"

Poe leads him down the path to the new building, set in a clearing not far from their expanded landing area. It is a large, three-story building, housing offices on the ground floor with crew quarters on the upper floors. Finn and Poe, as co-generals, have two of the larger rooms on the second floor. Poe guides him upstairs, shows him the code for the door, and motions him inside.

Finn stops a few steps into the room, gazing around with his mouth literally hanging open. They are in a large open area, with a sofa and chair along one wall, and a desk opposite. There is a small kitchenette tucked into the corner with table for eating, and a door leads to the single bedroom and private refresher. It is clean and new and bright, unlike any place they’ve ever lived. There is both wonder and gratitude in Finn’s eyes, and the look on his face right now is one Poe wishes he could see more.

“Are you serious?” Finn asks as he starts moving around, examining his new home. “This is all mine?”

“I’m not going to show you someone else’s room,” Poe laughs. “It’s all yours. it’s not much. It’s just a lot better than—”

“Living in a cave,” Finn finishes. “Or a ship. Or a tent. Poe, we’re in an actual building!”

“I know, buddy. It’s taken some getting used to, but it’s good.” He glances around and smiles. “And I’m right across the hall, if you ever need anything. Like a lesson how to use some of this stuff.” He gestures toward a small communications panel set into the desk.

“It’s perfect,” Finn says. “I can’t wait to get a good night’s sleep in here!”

Poe nods. “You’ll sleep like a baby—or you’ll miss the jungle so much you won’t sleep at all. I’ll let you get settled, maybe try out the fresher—it’s private, all yours.” Finn pumps his fist and Poe laughs again. “Think you’ll be up for a debrief later?”

Finn nods. “Yeah, give me an hour. Where should we meet?”

“Command center is on the ground floor, we either pull up chairs or move to the conference room. Is an hour enough?”

“More than enough,” Finn tells him. He turns and walks back to Poe, pulls him into another embrace. “Thank you,” he says quietly. Poe breathes him in, his heart skipping a beat at their closeness. It seems Finn being gone has definitely had an effect on Poe.

“You’re welcome,” he finally says. Finn steps back and Poe thinks the other man glances down at his lips before ducking his head with a smile. It’s probably wishful thinking, though. Poe has to deliberately look away from Finn’s mouth.

“It’s really good to see you,” Finn says.

“You too, buddy,” Poe says. “I’m glad you’re back. I’ll see you in an hour?”

Finn nods and Poe turns to leave. He really is glad to see Finn. He’s just not sure how to move forward now that Finn has returned.

[swtorpadawan]

Tales from the Eternal Alliance : Perspectives

Author’s Notes: The following takes place prior to my Awakenings series.

In the weeks following the fall of the Eternal Empire and the final destruction of Valkorion, the Eternal Alliance finds itself ascendant, unquestionably holding the balance of power throughout the galaxy. The ships of the Eternal Fleet, formerly a symbol of destruction and oppression, now deliver relief supplies and transport refugees to safe havens throughout known space. Alliance operatives and expeditions journey from planet to planet, negotiating agreements, resolving disputes and providing assistance of all kinds where needed. More recruits continue to sign up on Odessen every day, while the base continues to receive a stream of envoys and overtures from countless planets and factions seeking alliances, aid and support. Perhaps never in galactic history – even at the mythical founding of the Galactic Republic – had there ever been such a diverse collection of talented and dedicated individuals serving under one banner. There are, of course, internal tensions and disputes. But these are resolved with surprising efficiency, as the Alliance’s seasoned core of leaders and officers demonstrated an esprit de corps that has proven unbreakable, even when the entire Eternal Empire had descended upon them.

Morale, naturally, is at an all-time high. The people who join the Alliance want to be there. The Alliance doesn’t ask people to change who they are. It merely asks them to ally with people who are also fighting for something better.

It was in these golden days that the Alliance Commander’s closest allies noticed that the one person in the entire organization who did not seem to be reveling in this upswing of enthusiasm was the Alliance Commander himself.

Corellan Halcyon had gone by a great many appellations throughout his career, including the Outlander, the Battlemaster of the Jedi Order and the Hero of Tython. He still goes about his duties without complaint. He is up early every morning, training in either lightsaber dueling, distance running or both. When he is focused on a mission or engaged in combat, he is as unstoppable as ever, perhaps even more so. He attends the meetings that Lana Beniko and Theron Shan schedule for him. He dutifully reads each report his advisors give him, acknowledges every message or memorandum and seeks the advice of his advisors regarding most decisions of policy.

He still inspires the personnel of the Alliance by his mere presence. A smile and a greeting convince nearly everyone that he is in good spirits. To most of the rank and file – the troops, the crews, the vast numbers of specialists and support personnel – he’s still the unassailable Alliance Commander. Invincible. Fearless. Driven. Somewhere along the road, the Commander learned how to speak to people. How to lead and inspire them. Those skills serve him well, here more than ever. They flocked to his banner for hope, and he has delivered victory.

Nevertheless, the Commander is… listless. Distracted. Without true direction. The drive that powered the Alliance through its rebellion against Zakuul’s reign is often absent. Those who’ve noticed cover for him as best they can, but among them there are a variety of perspectives.

  T7-O1, Corellan Halcyon’s loyal astromech droid, has famously been with him since the beginning. Surely if anyone knows what troubles the spirit of the former Jedi Master, it would be Teeseven, the first companion.

These days, the droid is by his side almost constantly, even residing in his quarters when the Commander sleeps. Teeseven keeps his schedule, making sure he makes his appointments. He still joins him on many missions, either in the field or monitoring communications. The droid tracks his performance, his memory banks remembering virtually every lightsaber maneuver Corellan Halcyon had ever performed. Teeseven writes his speeches, an old talent the droid is happy to make use of again. They’re still a great team, as they were back when they were fighting flesh raiders on Tython when they’d first met.

Most nights, after withdrawing to his quarters, Commander will ask Teeseven to help him review everything they’d been told that day, to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. But some nights, the Commander will load up a map of the known galaxy on his holo-display and stare at it for an hour or longer. Teeseven will finally nudge Corellan silently in the leg, and he’ll sigh and rise to his feet, shutting off the display and then retreating to his bed to attempt to get a decent night’s sleep.

It is Teeseven who notes that Corellan rarely visits their old freighter, even though the ship is sitting unused on the landing pad and had been their home for nearly five years. He doesn’t share this observation. He also doesn’t share with anyone that he wakes the Commander each morning with an alarm. Or that he keeps the Commander’s schedule carefully, making sure that nothing relevant is missed. Or that he’s been tracking Corellan Halcyon’s intake of alcohol and has “advised” him more than once that he’s had enough.

(It isn’t a problem. Yet. The ex-Jedi is too disciplined to fall into that trap all at once. But Teeseven is determined that it doesn’t become an issue.)  

Teeseven knows he can’t give his friend everything he needs. He knows that he is a constant reminder of the Commander’s past, and that’s not always a good thing. But he’s determined he will be part of his friend’s future, because despite everything, Teeseven knows that he’s a reminder of the promises Corellan has made. To his friends. To the galaxy. To himself.

And that most definitely is something he needs.

Shae Vizla, who will be known to history as Mandalore the Avenger, never thought she would find another warrior worth following into a war. Not after her experiences with Darth Malgus and the death of Mandalore the Vindicated.

And if someone had told her she would find such a warrior, she would have been incredulous to learn that the individual in question was a former Jetii – a Jedi. Unbelievable. But the death of her brother was decades ago, and even a Mandalorian’s vengeance eventually cools.

One night, at Vizla’s invitation, the Outlander ventures alone to the Mandalorian campsite near the base. There, around the bonfire, he addresses the Clans that have followed Vizla and the Alliance up to this point.

His fluency in Mando is not strong, but he makes the attempt. That impresses them. The Sith and their Imperial lackies rarely made the effort. He does not offer platitudes about peace, but instead offers them a battle that will never truly end. He tells the Mandalorians that they can adapt to a purpose that would make them stronger – a cause worthy of warriors – without abandoning who they were or losing their traditions. He speaks of serving as Cabure – as defenders – not for politicians (as the old Jedi had) but for people.

He expects to be challenged and is not disappointed. He faces his foes as a warrior, fighting according to Mandalorian traditions. He prevails, but he does nothing to dishonor his opponents. He spares those he defeats and, as he once did with Vizla herself years earlier on Rishi, he helps them to their feet as friends.

When it is over, the Clans chant his name over and over. They will follow this Outlander and his Alliance unto death. Vizla herself now presents him with a rare gift; a pair of beskar'gam bracers, one of the last few examples they had of true Mandalorian iron. Honored, he gratefully incorporates these bracers into his uniform; the one inspired by the dead Prince of Zakuul.  

He will always be aruetii; never a true Mando. But to Shae Vizla and her followers, he is nevertheless alor. A leader.

In the weeks that follow, when the Mandalorians witness the Commander gazing up at the horizon at length, they whisper to themselves in anticipation that he is foreseeing the next great conflict. The next enemy. The next challenge.

Shae Vizla is less certain. She remembers Malgus. She knows great warriors tend to have great weaknesses. She knows that even Mandalorians take off their armor eventually.

She doubts she’s ever seen the Commander without his armor on.

But she is Mandalore, and she stands ready to lead her people into battle when needed.

  Vette decides, all on her own, that it’s going to be her job to hand the Commander his cup of caf when he enters the war room each morning.

No one ordered this. No one even suggested this. She’d probably have rolled her eyes if they tried. This is all her.

The Commander saved Vette’s life from Vaylin’s troops during the Battle of Odessen. She’d come closer to dying that day than at any other moment in her life. The debt she owed him was one she doubted she could ever repay.

What kind of ‘thank you’ gift do you even get for the man who has everything but never seemed to want anything?

Up until that point, Corellan Halcyon had pointedly obtained his own caf at the station in the war room, taking it black without sweetener, and usually drinking only a single cup for a full day. (Vette, who piles on creamers and sweeteners and drinks several servings a day, finds that ridiculous, but she knows he used to be a Jedi, so maybe that’s what was going on? Doesn’t matter.)

So one morning, Corellan Halcyon, Commander of the Eternal Alliance, entered the central hub of the Alliance base, Teeseven following alongside him, when he was promptly presented with his cup of caf by a grinning Twi’lek.

The Commander was surprised and a bit embarrassed, thanking Vette and accepting the cup but insisting that it really wasn’t necessary.

Vette promptly did the exact same thing the following morning, again flustering the young Commander.

On the third morning, Vette tried to repeat it a third time, only to be approached from behind by Corellan Halcyon, caf already in hand. His smile isn’t exactly smug, (Corellan Halcyon doesn’t do smug.) but he did seem content at having obtained his own cup of caf. Confused, it took Vette most of the morning to work out that the Commander had gone out of his way by circumventing the entire base to approach the hub from the opposite direction from where Vette was waiting for him.

After that, it was on.

Each morning, the former Jedi and the former professional thief engage in a fierce contest of wills, attempting to outmaneuver the other, with Vette trying to present him with a cup of caf before he can get his own. On one day, the Commander thought he had successfully evaded her only for her to drop out of a ceiling panel hanging upside down, his caf in hand. (And her smile absolutely was smug.) Another day, Vette almost had him cornered before the Commander force leapt over her head and across the room, avoiding her and reaching the caf station. (That was so cheating!) He could have ordered her to stop, but she realized that wasn’t his style. Clearly, the Commander was somehow enjoying the challenge that Vette had presented to him.

Lana Beniko observes all of this disapprovingly, pressing her face to her palms and sighing in frustration while muttering about being ‘surrounded by children’. But notably, she doesn’t reproach Vette or try to put a stop to it.

(Theron Shan, of course, is amused to no end. Gault, meanwhile, starts taking bets.)

After about ten days of this, the Commander unexpectedly and gracefully surrenders one morning, accepting the caf when it is offered up and offering a ‘thank you, Vette’.

Vette’s happy she won, and that she gets to present the commander with his caf every morning. But privately, she’s disappointed to see the contest come to an end.

She wonders if the Commander is disappointed as well, not for having lost, but for losing the distraction from whatever’s been eating at him.

  Talos Drellik has never been particularly adept at making friends.

The former officer in the Imperial Reclamation Service has long made peace with this fact of life, knowing full well that it dates to his childhood. (And it probably has something to do with his issues with his father and brother, but best not dwell on that.)

The field of Sith archaeology is a surprisingly small one, even within the Empire. Few non-Force sensitives have an interest in the study, and most Sith who have the necessary ‘intellectual bent’ to make real progress are principally concerned for what personal power may be gleaned from any artifacts or writings. But for Talos, Sith archaeology itself is his passion, perhaps to an extent that can make socialization challenging.

Talos had enjoyed his time with Darth Nox’s crew. He knew the Sith Lord valued his knowledge and his abilities. But at the same time, she never exactly warmed to him. She would enter his lab near the cargo hold, ask a series of questions about some subject related to his field of study, and then she would then leave, usually satisfied with his answers. In return, she’d allowed him to examine numerous archaeological sites on worlds he would never have otherwise had the chance to visit, like Voss. It had been a mutually beneficial relationship. The rest of Nox’s crew had been a mixed bag for him. Ashara had always been kind, but he knew that even she could lose patience with him when he prattled on for too long. Xalek had shown little use for him, and Revel – a constant thorn in his side – had even less. Talos had been initially excited by the idea of conversing with Khem Val, a being who had actually known Tulak Hord thousands of years ago. Sadly, the Dashade shadow assassin had soon grown bored with their interviews, finally complaining that modern “Imperials” simply couldn’t appreciate Hord’s contributions to Sith philosophy and culture.

Although Corellan Halcyon had obviously spent far less time with Talos than Darth Nox had, he nevertheless felt that the Commander had been a warmer, more inspiring presence in his life than the Sith Lord had been. Talos understands that the former Jedi had developed a genuine interest in the archaeology of Force-sensitive cultures, including even the Sith. He further felt that the Commander valued him and his advice, even pursuing that lead on Yavin 4 that led to the recruitment of Ak'ghal Usar. And this ancient Dashade shadow assassin had proven to be far more helpful to Talos’ research than Khem had ever been, even if he had been spotty on details like the actual names of participating Sith Lords.

[ Talos doesn’t tell the Commander that he was once part of Darth Nox’s crew. That he was there during the fighting on Tython with Revel and Xalek, back on her Fury-interceptor, ready to intercede if she called on them. That call never came. He regretted the Sith Lord’s death at the Jedi Battlemaster’s hands, but he didn’t hold Corellan Halcyon responsible. Such things happened when Sith and Jedi went to war.]  

But Talos would never presume that the Commander counted the Imperial Archeologist as a close friend or confidante.

So it was that Talos was quite startled when Corellan Halcyon had approached him one morning, informing him that his senior advisors had insisted that the Commander take a couple of days off, and he had decided that now was as good a time as any to investigate the old ruins he had observed months before in the wilds of Odessen. The Commander was convinced that Force-users had settled on Odessen in the past, perhaps even related to the early Zakuulans. He asked if Talos would be interested in putting a team together and joining him, embarking on a two-day expedition into the forest.  

Talos had naturally jumped at the offer, quickly enlisting the aid of three more specialists from the science division.

The Commander with his astromech droid by his side had seemed as upbeat and vigorous as ever on their trip, even saving the lives of the quartet of field operatives from a pack of attacking shade stalkers who attempted to ambush them along the path. He emerged a natural outdoorsman, coordinating the setup of their campsite near the ruins. He seemed intrigued at the team’s findings over the next two days, carefully taking notes and promising to devote additional resources and to authorize further expeditions going forward. He spoke about his experiences with ancient Force sites on Tython, Voss and Ilum. At one point, sitting around a campfire, noting that he was technically off-duty, he asked Talos and the other team members to call him ‘Corellan’.

No Sith Lord who Talos Drellik had ever encountered in his entire life had ever asked him to call them by their given name.

Once they had returned to the base, Talos had been promptly summoned by Lana Beniko. That was unusual in and of itself. Beniko was, perhaps, the most considerate Sith who Talos had ever met. She rarely ‘summoned’ anyone in his experience. Once he reported in, she had questioned him at length about their trip and how the Commander had behaved, with Talos laying out the details to the best of his ability. Gradually, he began to understand that it was Beniko who had insisted on the Commander taking a couple of days off in the first place. Apparently, what she did not have in mind for him was taking an archaeological team into the forest and fighting shade stalkers.

While she was eventually satisfied with Talos’ answers, she was hardly pleased with the outcome.

After that, Talos made a point to privately observe the Commander in his natural, day-to-day environment. He was a better interpreter of ancient Sith hieroglyphics than he was in reading human body language, and initially he noticed no problems. But eventually he started to understand Lana Beniko’s concerns. When on a mission or with a clear task in front of him, the Commander seemed himself. When the path forward was unclear, he was… not.

Talos was driven to find answers in the past of the Sith and of other Force-users.  

But sincerely Talos hoped that the Commander… Corellan… would find the answers he was seeking for his future, as well.

They say the hardest ‘mark’ for any con artist is another con artist.

It may or may not be true for others, but Gault Rennow certainly believes it.

The shifty Davorian plays his games, as he always has. The rules, the playing pieces and the stakes may have changed, but that’s no deterrent for a player like him.

Gault sometimes wonders if Corellan Halcyon is pulling the greatest con in galactic history. And if so, what’s he really after? (It’s certainly not credits. The Commander has shut down more of Gault’s money-making schemes than Gault cares to think about.)

Who is this fellow who risks his life constantly for other people, but who is clearly putting up a front? He’s everything that the old Jedi pretended to be, and yet… he’s not a Jedi at all.

It’s no skin off Gault’s nose. The Commander and the alliance have given Gault a place where he doesn’t have to constantly look for the exit. (And a place where maybe – maybe – Gault and Hylo have a future together.) It’s been a pretty good deal. Better even than the one he had with Xadya when he ran with her crew. He’s content then to sit back and watch. If the Commander really is playing a long-con, he’s doing it masterfully, and Gault could enjoy a show like that. And if he’s not, if this is just a situation that’s getting away from him, someone will need to be there to pick up the pieces when it blows up in his face.

So Gault kicks back, sips his drink and stays tuned.

  Koth Vortena is a man of great personal faith.

The price of holding onto that faith has been high. He believed in Valkorion absolutely. After the death of the Immortal Emperor, he continued to believe in the Eternal Throne. After he lost faith in that, he eventually came to believe in the Alliance. Ultimately, even though he’s sometimes disagreed with the man, Koth Vortena found himself placing his faith in Corellan Halcyon.

He’s never questioned it. He was furious when the Commander let Arcann join, but Koth never questioned why. He understood the decision. It stuck in his craw, but he understood.

Koth remembers the days before they freed the Outlander, listening to Lana tell stories about their adventures. He honestly didn’t believe most of them. He never says it out loud, but the reality has been so much better than those stories. Honestly? Deep down, Koth knows that most people would have just let Zakuul burn.

Koth’s deepest regrets in life have been for those members of his crew who he’s lost along the way. They had been his people, following his orders and falling in battle while under his command. He will never forget any of them.

But at least in the case of his fallen crew, there can be some closure for him.  

The Commander once had a crew of five on his little freighter. Koth remembered the stories. Two have returned. Teeseven – who Koth knows well from their time together with Lana, and that stone-faced alien soldier named Rusk.

Koth can’t help but wonder how he’d deal with it if three of his own crew were missing, their fates unknown. He seems to be the only one who notices the Commander never talks about the ones who haven’t come back.

  Bas’rish, the woman once popularly known as the Voidhound, knew the Commander back in the day.

They’d done a few jobs together, and she’s even adopted him as her ‘little brother’, even though she’s only two years older and he’s about a head taller than she is. He’s saved her life at least twice, now. Through it all, he’s never really asked her for anything.

But the smuggler captain knows how to read people, and she’s seen things that others miss. Now she sees him start to flounder when the hyperspace route ahead of him isn’t clear.  

She tries to talk to him about it. He always insists that he’s fine.

Yeah, Bas’rish knows about ‘fine’. She spent three years as a prisoner of Zakuul learning all about ‘fine’.

She’s tempted – sorely tempted – to talk to Shan or someone about her suspicions. These people do care about him as a person, if he’d only let them. (He’s lousy at that.)

No. Not yet. Not her style. (Not actually her business, maybe, but that’s family for you.)

Instead, she does the only thing she feels she can do. She puts out some feelers to her old contacts, and quietly starts to search the galaxy, hoping that if she finds the right trail of breadcrumbs, she can give Corellan Halcyon the mission he really needs. Just because he wasn’t confiding in her didn’t mean she couldn’t help him.

That’s what big sisters do, right?

  Every morning, Arcann wakes up, dresses, then joins Corellan Halcyon in the training ring for a pre-breakfast lightsaber sparring session.

Given that the first two times they had crossed blades, the Jedi Battlemaster and the Emperor of Zakuul had been trying to kill each other, it’s a strange sensation at first.

But for Arcann, still struggling to make friends within the Alliance, it is a welcome one.

The Commander has been a good friend to Arcann since he had joined. Truth, he’s been the only true friend he’s had since Thexan. The Commander often brings him on missions, but more important to Arcann is the time they spend together off-duty. They spar together, frequently dine together, and talk. Occasionally, they play dejarik. It helps Arcann’s image. Their sparring matches, which are rather intense, routinely draw impressive crowds of Alliance personnel. As the Commander obviously trusts Arcann with a lightsaber, Alliance personnel are much more willing to accept the former Emperor’s presence, particularly on missions, where trust is imperative.

(There was a time when Arcann was supremely confident that he could defeat the Outlander in such a duel. Now, even without Valkorion’s aid, he can sense Corellan Halcyon’s power had eclipsed his own, and that the former Jedi was well ahead of him in innate skill. Nevertheless, Arcann was closer to the Commander’s level than anyone else in the Alliance.)

Arcann doesn’t know why the Commander shows him such kindness.

The former Emperor has famously never believed in destiny; he turned against the Scions for that very reason, back when he… back when he was that other person. Now he is starting to reconsider his beliefs. He is still trying to understand the vision he had of Thexan, when he and his family had fought Valkorion in Corellan’s mind. He’s convinced that even if it is not his destiny to aid the Commander, it is most certainly his choice.

Arcann does not know what troubles Corellan Halcyon these days, and he does not feel it his place to press him on the matter.

He just knows he will be there with lightsaber in hand when he is needed.

 Marshall Fideltin Rusk is “old crew”.

The Commander’s crew from back when he was a Jedi is whispered of in reverence by many in the Alliance, their feats – real or imagined – having become legendary by now, rising to almost mythical status.

That is all that people seem to know about the old chagrian soldier.

A few brave souls have even asked Rusk about the stories they’ve heard. When asked by one of his trainees, they receive a harsh verbal rebuke. When he is asked by anyone else, they receive a raised eyebrow and an icy silence. In either case, a hasty withdrawal usually follows.

Rusk is valued and appreciated by Admiral Aygo and the rest of the command staff for his ability to train – and sometimes lead – Alliance infantry into able, combat-ready squads. Even Majors Antilles and Jorgan – the Alliance’s special forces commanders who have reformed Havoc Squad – consider him a premier instructor. He is respected by the other officers and those counted among the Commander’s companions for his abilities and resourcefulness in personal combat, even as he creeps into an age where most soldiers are already retired. He is viewed with a distinct combination of loathing, fear and ultimately grudging admiration by those he puts through the Alliance training regimen. The soldiers who eventually complete the training become indebted to him for what he has forged them into.

If Fideltin Rusk has a personal friend in the Alliance outside his former crewmates – the Commander and Teeseven – it is the best-held secret in the base. The old soldier doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t smile. He rarely seeks the company of others even when he is off duty, preferring to keep his own counsel. He is nicknamed “stone-face” behind his back by more than a few. Rusk demonstrates no signs that he knows or cares about this dynamic.  

But once a week, Rusk meets with the Commander in a quiet corner of the cantina for a game of dejarik and a drink. The Commander seems to enjoy these games immensely, smiling and sometimes even laughing when the two privately share a memory concerning their old crew. It’s as if he lets the mask of the stoic Outlander to slip a bit. Rusk himself doesn’t laugh during these games. He doesn’t even smile. But the muscles of his face seem to relax in a way that they don’t seem to in any other situation.

The other Alliance members – from the top senior advisors to the lowliest recruits – do not disturb these games. But some watch from a distance, both puzzled and fascinated by this uncharacteristic ritual.

On rare occasion, some third party will note the Commander calling Rusk by his old rank of “Sergeant”. It is not the kind of slip-up he would normally make. A small handful of people consider that this is not a mistake of the tongue, but rather a sort of personal designation. (In truth the Commander has known Rusk for far too long to suddenly start calling him “Fideltin”.)  

If Rusk – who shared a small ship with the Commander for four years – has any personal observations or insights regarding Corellan Halcyon’s state of mind, he keeps those to himself.

That does not mean he is not concerned for the man he has followed for so long. The only man for whom he would have left the Republic’s service.

But regardless, Rusk keeps his own peace even as he prepares his trainees for the next war.

 Oddly enough, the only ‘Force user’ in the Alliance whom the Commander has confided his troubles to – indeed, the only Alliance member whom he’s actually spoken to about his innermost thoughts at all – is one who would not identify as such.

Yuun is a Gand Findsman. He can find things. He can find people. (Hence why so many of his kind choose to become bounty hunters and related professions.)

But he can only follow the signs as they appear to him.

Corellan Halcyon seeks him out one day, then shares what he seeks with the Gand.

Yuun listens attentively, then meditates at length, looking for the signs. When he is finished, he regretfully tells the Commander that there is no path for him to follow for what he seeks. He can tell him only that when the signs do come, they will come for the Commander only. On this point, Yuun is certain of intuitively.

Befitting his nature, Corellan Halcyon amicably thanks the Gand, then asks for his discretion in this matter. Yuun naturally acquiesces.  

As the Commander takes his leave, the Gand can only hope that the signs will come soon.

Theron Shan is worried.

Theron was, once upon a time, one of the best SIS agents and analysts in the Republic’s service. (If he hadn’t been that good, Marcus Trant would have had him killed for all the operations of Theron’s that had gone sideways.)

But the point is he’s good at watching people. Damned good.

The Commander of the Eternal Alliance has become the most ‘watched’ man in the galaxy. Theron knows for a fact that the SIS’s psychological analysis of Corellan Halcyon is hundreds of pages long at this point, and that most of it is bantha dung. Lana doesn’t talk about the subject much, but he would be surprised if Sith Intelligence’s files weren’t even more convoluted.

Theron now observes the Alliance Commander, and hopes he is doing so with better skill than all those other intelligence analysts. (And hopefully, with better skill than every enemy who has ever lined up across from Corellan Halcyon.)  

He sees the Commander standing on the observation deck at the base, staring up at the horizon.

No. Theron realizes. Not staring. His eyes are closed. He’s reaching with the Force, reaching out into the galaxy for… something.

That worried him.

Theron Shan’s family history was… complicated. That didn’t mean he hadn’t learned it. It didn’t mean he hadn’t heard the stories from Master Zho or that he hadn’t read the old reports once he’d joined the SIS.

Theron remembered Revan.

After the Jedi Civil War and the destruction of the Star Forge, Revan and Bastila Shan had retired to Coruscant, leading relatively quiet lives of married bliss. They were nominally still part of the Jedi order, with the council unable to expel their two galactic heroes for fear of the political fallout. Revan, redeemed, victorious and united with his love, should have lived out his life in happiness.

That wasn’t what happened. Revan became distracted by… something out in the galaxy. Ultimately, after months of bad dreams and premonitions, Revan finally left his pregnant wife behind while he ventured out towards the Outer Rim, never to be seen again.

… until three-hundred years later, but that was another story.    

It turned out, of course, that it was the Sith Emperor that had plagued Revan’s thoughts. His memories of Vitiate from years before during the Mandalorian Wars may have been suppressed, but he could still feel the old bastard through the Force. Pursuing that feeling had led to Revan losing the life he had built for himself, as well as any chance at happiness.

The Sith Emperor was dead. Of that, everyone was certain.

So. What was plaguing the Alliance Commander? What was distracting him? What new threat had him reaching out like this?

Would the Commander hop in his old ship some day and just disappear? Like Revan had?

And if he did, what would become of the Alliance – and of the galaxy – without him?

  Lana Beniko knows full-well that much of what has developed has been a result of her actions. She believes this without hubris or ego, and with some measure of guilt.

Koth had warned her years ago even before they freed Corellan Halcyon on Zakuul. Winning the war against the Eternal Throne would take a greater toll on the Outlander than any of them could have imagined.

Through it all, he’d been consummate hero every step of the way. Stoic. Selfless. Courageous beyond all reason. She remembers his near-death experience fighting Arcann on Asylum. Once he awoke, he didn’t seem remotely discouraged. Once upon a time, Lana would have dismissed much of this as displays of his damned Jedi ethics. Lana no longer believed that. Corellan may have left the order behind, but his principles were his own.

Lana had had been by his side ever since, whether coordinating the Alliance or fighting in the field. The former Minister of Sith Intelligence felt she owed it to him, given that she had effectively drafted him into a position of leadership in fighting a war that he’d never asked for, taking on the responsibility of leading the Alliance. In all but name, Lana was effectively serving his chief-of-staff. (Theron, meanwhile, preferred to play the free-wheeling subordinate.)

She watched him now. They had been victorious. Triumphant. Untold billions of lives had been saved. Even if the Empire and Republic needed to be kept at arm’s length, the galaxy was still more peaceful than it had been in decades.

He should be, if not happy, then at least satisfied. He is not.

He’s not right. He’s not himself.

She feels the pings of guilt that he’s in this state, even as she knows she would have done the same if she had to. (And the Commander would have agreed with her, she knows.) She understands that, ultimately, he hasn’t let her in. That hurts more than she’s willing to admit. Regardless, Lana Beniko will always do whatever is in her power to support him, regardless.

To that end, Lana insists – with Theron’s support – that the Commander take two days off. Corellan promptly ventures into the wilderness with Drellik and an archaeological team. She says nothing when he spends each morning sparring with Arcann. (She still doesn’t trust the deposed Emperor.) She rolls her eyes but keeps her peace when the Commander and Vette spend more than a week in a ridiculous display trying to outdo each other over a cup of caf. Lana Beniko realizes these are all temporary measures. They may bring the Commander relief, but they do not address the underlying issues.

Something more needs to be done.

 A private meeting is quietly organized by Lana Beniko, composed of carefully selected Alliance members known for their pragmatic and discreet natures.

They talk for hours on their observations and concerns regarding the Commander. They attempt to construct a complete picture of the situation, despite clearly missing some pieces. Inevitably, they debate and argue. The eventual consensus of the gathering is that the Commander paid a steep price in his final battle with Valkorion, and that the effects of that encounter linger. That he was wounded in spirit in ways that are not healing on their own and which he refuses to talk about or address.

The discussion then pragmatically turns to what could be done about it.

The prospect of outside counseling is suggested but is quickly dismissed. None of those assembled are properly trained themselves and finding someone trustworthy who could compel the Commander to cooperate would be nigh impossible given the circumstances.  

Inevitably, the prospect of using Force Healing is raised. It seems to have worked well for Arcann.

Lana had already spoken to Sana-Rae. She told her that the Commander will always be considered a hero to the Voss, but that a vision by the Mystic, Valen-Da, predicted that Corellan Halcyon would find no peace among their people. That every time he would return to the planet would coincide with conflict and peril. So, it had been when he had confronted Fulminiss at the Dark Heart almost a decade ago. So, it had been when he had saved Voss-Ka from Vaylin. So, it would be again in the future.

Lana had been angry to hear this, but she had finally accepted the explanation. The Voss were out.

Neither Sith nor the Knights of Zakuul possessed the proper techniques – on this, there was no dispute. What about healing through a Jedi Force Meld?

More promising, that. But for someone like Corellan Halcyon, that would require a Jedi of sufficient power with a strong, pre-existing bond to the Commander.

He had been the Hero of Tython. Their Battlemaster. Their Champion. There must surely be many such Jedi…

Leeha Narezz and Jomar Chul both knew him before joining the Alliance, hadn’t they? He had called them his old friends. Not that deeply, the group is told. He had saved their lives twice over. But they didn’t pretend to have that sort of connection to him. Precious few Jedi had. But Satele Shan has not been seen since her appearance on Coruscant shortly after the war ended. What about the rest of the council? Bela Kiwiiks had been in touch with the Alliance but had not seen the Commander in person in years. The others? All missing or dead. Surely there were others? Kira Carsen, his former padawan, and Ulannium Kaarz, the Barsen’thor, had both gone missing during the invasion, like so many other Jedi. Corellan Halcyon may have been called the Hero of Tython, but he rarely seemed to spend much time on the Jedi homeworld.

As those assembled work their way down the list, they come to an uncomfortable realization.

Corellan Halcyon has spent his adult life going from world to world, saving people. First as a Jedi, now as the leader of the Eternal Alliance.

He seemed to call everyone his ‘friend’, but even Lana Beniko, who rescued him on Zakuul and had stood by his side ever since, was starting to question if she really knew him.

How many people had he even allowed himself to grow close to, aside from an astromech droid?

Senya Tirall finally slaps the table. She and Arcann will ‘take point’ on the situation, she declares. They owe the Commander that and more for what he has done for them.

When she is asked how she intended to help the Commander, the former Knight of Zakuul answered with steel in her eyes and in her voice.

“By being his friend.”

No one challenges this plan. It is, unfortunately, the most pragmatic they have right now.

Senya Tirall has a quality that many of her colleagues in the Alliance lack. That quality being life experience. In her time, Senya Tirall has protected Emperors and hunted criminals. She has tracked down traitors before ultimately becoming a rebel herself. She has warred with her own children and redeemed her son.

She has watched Corellan Halcyon since their first encounter in the Endless Swamp on Zakuul. He wasn’t quite what she expected at the time, and now, over a year later, she still found herself surprised at him sometimes. He was brave, compassionate, amicable and wise, all almost to a fault. He could also charm, flatter and even joke… in his moments.

Senya was fairly certain, however, that these last three characteristics were learned; that they did not come naturally to him. And that seemed typical of Corellan Halcyon; he constantly tried to remake himself into whomever he had to be to help others most effectively.

She saw this during Indo Zal’s celebration of the Eternal Alliance’s victory on Zakuul, held mere hours after the final battle against Valkorion in Corellan’s mind. The former Jedi refused to accept the title of Emperor, instead gathering the ‘movers and shakers’ of Zakuulan society and asking them to form a provisional government. The Commander had pledged that the Eternal Fleet – and the Alliance – would continue to defend Zakuul from external threats, but that they would not attempt to dominate the planet, nor would they interfere at all unless the Zakuulans themselves requested. Despite being mentally exhausted from his ordeal and months of fighting, Corellan spent six hours charming and cajoling the socialites and had them eating out of his hand.

(During the evening, Senya had been approached by no fewer than three matriarchs of influential Zakuulan families, each of whom had known Senya back when she had been the captain of Valkorion’s personal guard. After the obligatory small talk, all three had made inquiries to whether the Commander might be agreeable to a political marriage to one of their daughters or sons. Such deal-making had been commonplace at court back during Valkorion’s reign. Senya had not enjoyed passing along those overtures.)  

The entire event had been a smashing triumph, successfully rebranding the infamous Outlander from a hated terrorist to the acclaimed savior of Zakuul.

It was only after all the guests had left that the Commander finally let out a sigh of exhaustion, catching himself against a table as he gazed up at Senya.

“How’d I do?” he’d asked her, like a student asking their teacher if they had passed a test.

Senya was starting to suspect that Corellan Halcyon viewed much of his life like that: Just a series of tests.

She’s even seen it when he was among his friends and allies at the Alliance base. Once, during an informal conversation, a joke seemed to go over his head. He’d blinked, then noting that everyone else seemed amused, he chuckled nervously. Senya didn’t think anyone else had caught it, but she had. A glimpse beneath the mask, perhaps?

It worried her that even after all this time, he didn’t feel completely at ease with his own people. He still felt the need to put up a front, a mask. Having been married to a man who’d worn a mask for centuries, only to have discovered a monster beneath it, Senya was determined to do something about it.

So not long after Lana’s meeting, she had Arcann go and extend an invitation to dinner for the three of them. If Corellan Halcyon was determined to be the “Protector of Zakuul” (as Indo and the aristocrats had acclaimed him), then he should at least become familiar with a homecooked Zakuulan meal. Senya was proved correct that, with the invitation going through Arcann, the Commander wouldn’t refuse.

That first dinner was pleasant enough. Arcann had been nervous about the whole thing; he respects the Outlander’s privacy absolutely, so was quiet for most of the evening. Corellan had even brought a bottle of Alderaanian wine. He seemed more at ease, though she wouldn’t say she understood him better. But the foundation had been laid; he agreed to a second dinner a week later.

By the third dinner, it had occurred to Senya that here she had two able young men who, almost inarguably, were the two greatest warriors in the galaxy. And both of them had apparently reached the age of thirty without picking up any culinary skills of any kind.  

By the fourth dinner, she had put them both to work. The Commander was peeling vegetables for a soup while Arcann helped her mix a sauce. It didn’t occur to either Corellan or Arcann to refuse her ‘request’ for them to help.    

Slowly, ever so slowly, Corellan’s smile at their weekly dinner starts to become more natural; less the mask worn by the Alliance Commander and more something else.

She’d get through to him, she was sure. She just needed time.

 Apparently oblivious to these machinations, there stands Corellan Halcyon, the Alliance Commander.

He has stood tall against the Sith, against Dark Jedi, against the Knights of Zakuul, against challengers on every planet he has ever visited. He has even stood against Valkorion himself. And he has ultimately prevailed every time.

The challenge he now faces is unlike any of those.

Is it his destiny to prevail once again? To find that which he seeks?

He doesn’t know.

But he has hope.

[mandogirl93]

KotFE/KotET Headcanon Time!

Tagged by @mimabeann​!  Thank you so much, and I’m sorry for the mess you’re about to see!

Tagging: Anyone who wants to do this one! 

1. Starting with basics. Who is your Outlander (which class, what their aligment)? How did they end up being frozen in carbonite for 5 years? Why did you make them the Outlander?

My Outlander is Vargus Organa. He was placed with the Jedi at a very early age, and follows the Jedi Knight story pretty closely, with a couple of extra twists/turns as he runs into the other class characters. He’s a great example of a Jedi, but he does sometimes struggle with the seriousness of what he does. He just views his day as another one for the books, and rarely sees just how much he impacts the events of the story. I think he’s leading every quest line for me except Ziost. He’s there, but he’s supporting Theron and the 6th line while my Imperial crew have all been called in to help Lana and my warrior takes center stage against Vitiate.

2. Now, to the rest of classes. What happens to them during KotFE/ET? Did they know the Outlander? Were they allies, enemies, family? Do they join the Alliance or have something else to do? Do they play a major or a minor role in the story? Spare no detail (if you wish, of course)

Okay, not gonna lie, this is a bit of a mess right now (mainly because I had got my little legendary icon and then deleted all of my toons. So I’m in the process of remaking and remapping… well, everything. But here’s what I’ve got so far!)

Republic

Knight is Vargus. Check.

Consular: Aishne Pashavi is my consular in-game. Aishne is a Mirialan and she follows the typical class story line. Her family were ambassadors on Corellia and she was discovered by the Green Jedi there, and trained with them for a time before landing on Tython. She ends up working closely with Master Gnost-Dural and Naadia on Ossus. (She also never abandoned Felix, her husband. Because of reasons.) 

Smuggler: I don’t have one yet. Idk, In my brain, no one can really beat Hylo, and I haven’t made a smuggler that I’ve ever actually kept.

Trooper: Ruvah Khor is my trooper. Light side all the way. She follows orders as best she can, but knows when she can draw a line. Her superiors may not always like that, but they can’t argue with her results. She follows the class story line, and ends  up marrying Jorgan. After the Alliance defeats Vaylin, Ruvah and Aric both retire for a few years before being pulled back into the conflict after Ossus. 

Imperial

Sith Warrior: Lord Madraxian. Followed the warrior storyline, but took the Emperor abandoning the Empire pretty hard. When Arcann and crew took over, he was almost killed before Vette was able to cut the skytoopers off from following them. He decided to lay low for a bit and wait for an opportunity to strike back at Zakuul. And that is how my cool sith warrior ends up as a scary bodyguard for Gault and Vette. He joins the Alliance when they do, and is able to break out to go save Vette during Vaylin’s assault.

Sith Inquisitor: Darth Imperius/Vi’fan Kallig. He’s a bookworm who just can’t catch a break.  He was a slave to a noblewoman on Drommund Kaas, but was sent to Korriban after discovering he was force sensitive. He follows the inquisitor story line as well, but romances Talos. He is… not a very good person. He’s not outright cruel, but he will scheme to protect what he loves at all costs, and he’s rather gifted at interrogations. 

Bounty Hunter: Vhikka Farr. You guys have heard quite a bit about her, but I’ve twisted her story inside and out (sorry). She’s actually a member of clan Farr and living with those in the Order of Revan on Drommund Kaas at the beginning of her story. However, she’s heard of all the cheating that Tarro Blood is doing from her clan and decides to enter the Great Hunt the hard way and earn her place on her own. She packs up her beskar and heads to Hutta (she got that tip from one of my other bounty hunters). She follows the BH story after that, but has to reveal to Mandalore that she was already Mandalorian (and she’s very thankful that he found this funny rather than shooting her). She meets Vargus a couple of times throughout her travels, so they know each other during Shadow of Revan. This is where they actually start working together and where they fall for each other.

I also have a bounty hunter called Durgo Farr (or Pink). He grew up with Vhikka but was a few years older. He was already working as a Bounty Hunter when Vhikka was looking to join the Great Hunt. He had worked with Braden on Nar Shadda, so he set their meeting on Hutta up. 

Agent:  Sira’mi’rane, aka Amira. She’s a light-side imperial agent who is just trying to do her job. She’s pretty private, even with her crew and misses Copero (her homeworld). She only romances Aristocra Saganu, and they keep in touch through the expansions.

 I also have a few more, but they’re not set in stone yet and may fall victim to the delete button.

3. What about companions? Do you follow their in-game story or have headcanons for them? Did they stay with your non-Outlander characters or not? Why?

Mostly? I mean, as much as Vhikka wants to blow Skadge out of the airlock, she can’t really bring herself to kill him. And he always manages to make it back on the ship, no matter how early she leaves the spaceport “unannounced”. Mako keeps in contact with Vhikka even though they separate, so I feel like there’s less abandonment/animosity there, and her and Akaavi join the Alliance sooner. (At the moment I don’t think anything changes for the other classes. But I’m also tired and there are so many of them.) Also, everyone lives! Yay! 

4. If applicable: how your characters react if the Alliance joins the opposite faction on Iokath and after that? For example: how do Sith characters feel about joining the Republic? Will they stay or leave (if it’s too spoiler-ish, then feel free to skip this)?

I mean, most of my toons are relatively okay with Vargus siding with the Republic. Vhikka isn’t super fond of the idea, but she always made it a point that she wasn’t the Empire’s lapdog. (She knows that the Republic probably won’t accept her people even if Vargus vouches for them. She also REALLY doesn’t like being asked to be a double agent, and Vargus is so proud of her for controlling herself enough to not shoot Jonas when he asked.) The only ones who actually leave are Vi’fan and Talos, and that’s because he goes back to kill whoever has taken his libraries and offices and asks Talos to come with him. (He also just waltzes back into his spot on the Dark Council somehow. Idk, he’s just that good at what he does.) Most others eventually fall into their new places/roles.

5. If applicable: if your Commander decides to be a saboteur, would they tell anyone (PC or companions)? Why/why not?

Not applicable for Vargus, but I think that Vhikka may get persuaded to do it (oh no...). I haven’t really decided yet. If she does though, she’s going to be a mess. Shes definitely not cut out for that.  

6. How would your characters react if one of their companions is exiled or dead because of Outlander’s choices? For example: sith warrior’s reaction if Commander doesn’t save Vette?

I know it’s cheesy, but I like that I saved Vette and Torian. Vhikka gets Torian and Madraxian gets Vette, which frees Vargus to go for Vaylin. 

7. If you have something written about anything from the above (bc I know some people do), share the links to your works (again, if you feel like it)!

I… don’t actually have anything written. I try, but it’s always a jumbled mess. Maybe one day!

[rainofaugustsith]

SWTOR 15 Day Challenge: Canon Divergence

11. Canon divergence. Are there parts of their story that don’t line up with in-game information? Why? Where?

Yes, most notably with some of the class story companions.

1. The situation with Quinn is different. First, Viri knows he's a spy for Baras from the time he joins the crew. Come on, now. An Imperial officer, pledging himself to a brand-new baby apprentice? And it's an Imperial officer who is indebted to Baras and leaves the room on Balmorra to talk to him. Oh, and your dealings with Baras involve neutralizing leaks in his extensive spy network, and he's told you himself that he has eyes and ears everywhere. Viri would have done the math on that.

Viri was forced to take Quinn on board to play along with Baras's games, but she certainly watched her back around him. After Baras moved against her on Quesh, Viri immediately removed Quinn from the crew. The Quinncident thus unfolded differently: Quinn still commandeered that cruiser, but he pretended to be an "ally" who wanted to meet up to discuss things. The only reason Quinn was not killed on the spot when he attacks was because Viri knew that Baras would try to have her apprehended for killing an Imperial officer. So she had Quinn sent to prison for commandeering the cruiser instead.

Quinn did NOT come to Iokath as the Empire's emissary. Rezinal Orzik, the captain from the Black Talon, was Acina's messenger instead. Quinn knows very well that he'd be wise never to get anywhere near Viri or her loved ones again.

I changed it because it seemed far more logical for Viri's story. She would have been shrewd enough to figure out why Quinn was there, she would have clashed terribly with his personality, and she would never have let him back on the crew after what he did. There's just no way.

2. Viri's dealings with Jaesa were different than in the game, and Jaesa herself was very different from the one in the game. Viri did kill the Jedi on Tatooine but spared Jaesa's parents and told Baras not to hurt them. She also refused to hurt Jaesa's old employer at House Organa.

Viri's 'sales pitch' to Jaesa was that the Force is not black and white, there are many ways to use it, and that perhaps Jaesa should take the time to figure out the path that she wants. Thus, the Jaesa who lives in Viri's world is neither the LS nor the DS one from the game. She's a bit of an amalgam and is a pragmatic, level-headed Sith, much like Lana or Viri.

Viri's reunion with Jaesa was neither the LS nor the DS one presented in the game. Instead, she and her team discovered Jaesa imprisoned in an ancient trap on Yavin 4 and freed her.

I changed this from the class story because I felt that both Jaesas in the game were really off the deep end. Either Jaesa is really innocent and naive and has the wrong idea about the Sith Warrior (my Viri has no intention of ever being a Jedi or "walking the light side," she uses all sides of the Force), or she's downright scary - violent and sadistic. I felt that neither of those scenarios did justice to the character so I aimed for the middle. I changed the reunion because neither of them would have ended well, and because the Jaesa I established would not have fit into either of those scenarios. She never would have betrayed Viri by handing over Sith information to a Jedi who wants to kill them all, she never would want to be a Jedi again, and she never would have wanted to kill Lana or slaughter Alliance troops or think that Viri abandoned her.

3. In the Dragon's Maw chapter in KOTET, Viri did NOT use Vaylin's conditioning word. I felt it was horribly wrong that the player didn't have a choice about using the word in the game, and I wasn't going to keep that with Viri. Viri on her very worst day would not have been sadistic enough to torture and humiliate an abuse survivor on a live galactic broadcast that way. She simply challenged Vaylin to a duel, and Vaylin responded by throwing her into the rancor pit.

4. On a happier note, all the exoboars from Vaylin's palace went back to Odessen with her and lived the rest of their lives as pampered, spoiled good babies.

5. There are also times I head canon that Viri's conversations with people about things go far beyond what is shown in the game.

6. With the Gods from the Machine, Viri and her team hunted them down one by one on various planets; it had nothing to do with what happens in the Op. Viri killed Tyth the first time they met, when she ordered the Eternal Fleet to fire on him.

7. In Viri's world, all the gods from the machine had so much twisted Force power (not LS, not DS, but twisted...) that even when dormant, they corrupted people and droids on the planets where they were concealed. Nahut and Tyth on Iokath contributed to ARIES' constant capture/experiments on organics (Vette says there are billions in the necropolis). Scyva was buried below the Czerka excavation on Tatooine, and was fueling the Rakatan Imprisoned One. That energy made it possible to create those cybernecrotic warriors. Esne and Aievela were concealed on Oricon, which helped the Dread Masters completely corrupt that moon. Zildrog, in line with the game, was on Nathema, and contributed to the madness that touched people who spent extended periods of time on the planet.

7. There are some changes to the traitor arc here and there, for instance, Viri took Taran the bounty hunter (my canon in-game BH) to Copero and almost brought down Theron's shuttle. On Umbara, she and Lana didn't go hiking through the wilderness to look for Theron; they called the Gravestone to pick them up and Viri spendt the wait time revoking Theron's clearances and making some strategic defense orders to her team. And on Iokath she refused to put everyone under surveillance, but she asked Jaesa to check out everyone's true nature to try to see who was against her. 8. Viri and Lana were married way before the game let Viri propose. They got married in a secret Sith ritual ceremony after KOTET and had a big public ceremony in the time between Iokath and Umbara. 

[crqstalite]

archives, deceived. [vza’haria.]

To introduce in the extended universe of the famed Havoc Squad, I introduce Vza’haria (Vza, pronounced Viza) Atiya. Her brothers will be introduced in time, but for now, here we are. I also wanted to explore the idea of the original Havoc Squad more than in-game, especially since they aren’t touched again after Chapter 1 in-game. I, obviously had a soft spot for Vanto (Fuse), because I’m a sucker for double agents. So they were romantically involved on the down low.

Also technically takes place before the events of Shadow of the Sith. The Mayhem Squad (all Havoc Squad OCs beyond Hakio) will return?

Published: 12.15.19 Words: 2,317.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Atiyas are big. They're strong. They're the conquerors, the winners that always come out on top. Being the recognized, prized, medal-worthy sniper of the esteemed Havoc Squad was what Vza'haria was known for. That was her, this was her. She wore the colors proudly, never letting her own morals get in the way of getting the job done. Alongside a Jedi Master as her brother and a Tythonian Defender as the other completing their family, she had her work cut out for her as the only triplet fighting the Empire without the Force.

This was her legacy. Saving people, and doing a damn good job while she was at it.

But this...this would haunt her for all her days to come.

They're surrounded by Imperials, Havoc has officially defected. We've been abandoned by the Republic, the Imperials will make this better, she remembers Vanto saying in the dim light of the crew quarters after everyone else has gone to bed, Maybe it won't be the best, but it's better than now.

Seeing the troopers on the opposite side of the war milling about nearby as she recalibrates her weapon, she's wondering if this is the right decision. If Garza thought this was the best idea for them. Had she known? Does she know?

Deep down, she knows the answer is no. She knows this isn't what she would've wanted. This isn't what is right. Vza'haria is about to start quaking in her boots as the bomb is lowered onto the supply ship. Her head is spinning, all she can think about is Ando Prime. Being left behind and surrounded by soldiers who flew the Emperor's flag. They had been abandoned, she later learned after they returned to the Core Worlds, battered and bruised. She'd nearly been past repair herself, had Needles not injected her with a sedative that left her feeling just about nothing and being unable to even move on the ride back to Coruscant. Vanto had to carry her back on planet, the pain was beginning to ebb back into her consciousness and she passed out shortly after she saw the Republic insignia over the military hospital.

They'd been reinstated into the military, but they weren't without their reservations, her especially. For months she couldn't walk on her own, much less even shoot in the shooting range. It was ages before her hands stopped shaking, or phantom pains shot up her spine. Ando Prime had been the straw that broke her.

Ord Mantell had simply been the first place they could defect properly from. They'd awarded her, trying to cover it up before it came out in the media. Harron had never been rightfully angered, Bex, Zora and Ryler weren't far behind. She and Vanto had been on the fence about carrying out the mission. They knew first hand how dangerous it could be to those inhabiting Avilatan.

At the beginning, Vza'haria had gone along with it. She'd nearly died, and all she got was a measly medal and promotion. Vza'haria had, yes, signed up for this, but not abandonment. Not to be forgotten for an unsanctioned mission. She believed in the cause until she really met the Sergeant, a feisty cyborg woman from Coruscant with a cause. Vza'haria hadn't met anyone who'd so willingly stood up to Lieutenant Jorgan (and lived to tell the tale), and her morals were in line. She really believed in what they were doing on Ord Mantell, and never bat an eye at their requests. Hakiojkl (as she later learned while sifting through files to cover up any suspicious missions that could get them caught) fought for the Republic through and through, nearly dying in a mission on Corellia for the cause. She'd suffered so many injuries she had been labelled as honorably discharged for a while before she simply picked herself back up and was redeployed to Ord Mantell.

It made her feel horrible to lie to her. It made her sit up at night instead of sleep just because of how absolutely guilty she felt. Vza'haria made a pledge to serve the Republic, fought alongside her brothers to make the Republic a better place.

And here she was, awaiting the finalities of exchange. Ready to change her entire identity for another faction. Was she really ready to give up years and years of training for one squad? This wasn't who the Atiyas were. But she needed to survive, and the Imperials might've been able to help. Vanto puts a hand on her shoulder, a strained smile. An attempt to cheer her up and that ultimately failed.

She doesn't even have to shout. Her presence is loud enough on it's own. The Sergeant has arrived, stalking her way through the stronghold. Still bleeding scars adorn her face and her uniform is torn in unarmored places, "Sergeant. I thought my orders were very clear. You're not supposed to be here."

Wraith, Zora, moves to point her rifle into the back of the Sergeant, who throws a glance over her shoulder but otherwise doesn't move her steeled gaze from their CO, "I'll take her."

"No, Wraith. The Sergeant deserves to know the truth." Vza'haria can't bear to meet the other woman's eyes. She's shivering, though it's baking in the volcano turned Seperatist base. They'd never been friendly, but she still feels horrible. At least Harron has chosen not to murder her outright. At least that part of him hasn't changed, "I had hoped it wouldn't come to this. I harbor no ill will towards you. You're everything a warrior should be. But I'm afraid the Republic no longer values her warriors-even the very best among them."

"That's insane! Havoc fought the Empire for years, and now you're just going to give it all up?" A fire burns beneath her dark eyes, standing as tall and as rigidly as she can. Pain is showing throw the cracks though, and Vza'haria is painfully reminded just how deep they are in the stronghold. It was not an easy climb, she knew that much, "You were the shining example in the Republic, and now you've turned your back on it."

"The Empire respects warriors, Sergeant. The Republic's top officials, on the other hand, have decided to cast us aside." He says. In some ways, he's right. Even she has to admit just how painful it is to be treated as canon fodder, "The truth is that no matter what they may say, the Republic senate doesn't actually believe it can win another war against the Empire. That makes you and I a threat. Every Havoc Squad victory fires up people's imaginations, fills them with pride-which means the bureaucrats can't afford to let us keep succeeding."

As slowly as she can, her hand nears the blaster attached to her hip. It seems natural, as she had her arms crossed previously, "We can win. The Republic has done it over an over again. You say the bureaucrats can't let you keep winning, but elite groups like us are what keeps the Republic's heart beating. You're really willing to see your faction go under as soon as you leave Republic airspace?"

Harron sighs, "If only you'd been with us longer, Sergeant, you would understand. You might've even come with us."

It's now or never.

"The Republic abandoned us. During a mission on Ando Prime, they simply left us to die. But I won't try to persuade you. Honestly, I hope you die with your ideals intact. The rest of us will never have that luxury."

It's now.

"It didn't have to be like this." She whispers, her blaster trained on a spot right in-between his lungs, "I admired you, Harron. I really did."

There's a click of a rifle, Zora has the barrel of her's trained on her back in the nearly exact same spot. The Sergeant is surprised, eyes wide as she tenses, "If only you'd been able to hold on a little longer."

"I'm surprised, Shadow." Harron doesn't move, but there's a sad chuckle to his voice. She can see Vanto's own disappointed face out of the corner of her eye, but she steels herself for whatever he might say to try and convince her, "I knew you had your reservations, but I thought you were with us until the end."

"Do you know what the Empire will do with that bomb? The Republic hurt me, but I won't give a bomb to them knowing they would kill innocents. That's on your conscience, that's on every single one of your consciences," She says. She's giving up the squad she's always been part of, but killing civillians is where she draws the line. The Sergeant, Hyperion, has pulled her own rifle out and the Imperials are swarming her, "I though you were better than the monster I saw you become."

"You were with us for just as long." In a flash, Harron has her disarmed, holdout blaster skidding away on the durasteel and she falls on her chest, hard. The wind is knocked out of her as she looks up, coughing, "You saw what the Republic was capable of, and yet you still fight for them. If this isn't what you want, then leave."

She struggles to get up, before Wraith shoves the butt of her rifle down her spine and she cries out in pain. It's long enough that everyone has boarded the shuttle, and she can't get up fast enough to follow after.

"Time we were off. Colonel Vorr? Please give the Sergeant and Shadow the warrior's death they deserve." And in a flash, her squad is gone, transport shuttle flying away before her eyes. All the memories, the long nights, the battles, the fights. They're gone. They've abandoned her as much as the Republic has.

Blaster shots. Hyperion has taken up cover behind a stack of crates, and faster than even she can she's sniping heads and taking out soldiers. She's snapped back into reality herself, pulling her rifle out herself and shooting through blurry eyes. Vza'haria had never been emotional, in fact most labeled her as cold. Most recruits were scared of her. But this struck a chord, hard. She was alone in the galaxy, again. Someone else had turned their back on her.

There isn't a word exchanged between her and the Sergeant on the way back to Fort Garnik. She can't bring herself to speak, and she figures that Hyperion doesn't exactly have a lot of good things to say to her either. Vza'haria is going to be labelled as a traitor to the Republic, even if she hadn't left with the rest of Havoc. She still carried out the missions leading up to the capture of the ZR-57.

The General is at Command when they return. At first, the betrayal isn't outright discussed. For a fleeting moment she thinks it's been forgotten. Jorgan has been demoted to a Sergeant, but Hyperion has been promoted to Lieutenant. It's nearly laughable, had the previous events not just occurred. The man wasn't happy, though there's a sense of pride in the new CO of Havoc Squad. For another moment, she's just a tad jealous. It should've been hers. She'd served in Havoc longer than either combined.

It's a glorified chewing out once both of them leave. Vza'haria Atiya is dishonorably discharged from the Republic military. That's fair, she's to be transported to Coruscant and tried by the Senate on the other members of Havoc. But, she'll be held in prison until then. Vza'haria refuses to call her family because of the shame that comes along with it. She doesn't want to see the disappointed faces of her brothers, of her fathers. She doesn't even know how long it will be until she sees any of them in person again.

She's frustrated. Not just with Harron, but with the Republic. She can see their perspective, and can even agree with it. Maybe she should've gone with them in the end, become an Imperial soldier instead. No one said she couldn't be a beacon of hope for the other side.

But in the end, the guilt would eat away at her. At least now, she's still part of the Republic.

-

"Vza'haria Atiya, you are hereby reinstated as a Sergeant of the Republic to Infantry Squad 326, code name Havoc Squad."

She never thought she'd hear the day. When she'd be regarded again as a soldier instead of a traitor by Command. She swells with pride, though she salutes instead. Hyperion, Jorgan, Dorne and Forex are with her as the holoprojector shuts off. To be able to fly the Republic's flag again is a blessing in itself. She's a sniper again, legally this time.

The mission to get here still hurts. To see Vanto one last time before he's carted off to prison, right where she'd just been. It took a piece of her, and out of sight of the others she finally gets the kiss she was promised. Just...in the worst way possible. With the worst timing.

Once they retired, they were supposed to be together for the rest of their lives. It was supposed to be her and Vanto against the rest of the galaxy. Once the war was over, they would never see the Empire again. Vza'haria Bazren was supposed to be the beacon of hope in the galaxy.

But now, she was never seeing him again. Not without a holoscreen between them.

"I love you, Vanto."

"I love you too, Vza."

"Well, I think this counts for a congratulations. One for the promotion, and the other for finally getting off that dustball." Hyperion says, a smile on her face, "Dorne, there's nothing against that is there?"

"Not that I know of." She responds, though there's something that tells Vza'haria that there probably is and she's trying not to bring down the mood, "I'll prep the ship for take off."

She's Havoc Squad again.

But at what cost?

[dingoat]

The Right Way | Part Thirteen

[ previous | the beginning | next ]

In the timeline where Crow turned right, he knew he’d eventually have to face up to his past.

Even though he’d lost all contact with his former comrades, he’d managed to pick up on the murmurings, here and there. Nothing on Nines and Lyrisal themselves, of course… but there were whispers of a breakout at one of the less secure Republic facilities. A place where Crow was reasonably certain some of the lower ranking Deserters had been held; recent recruits, civilians who had not abandoned their army but rather been disillusioned by their former lifestyles, ordinary people seeking a different status quo.

“Come on, are none of you out on this fething frequency anymore? It’s me. Crow. Don’t tell me there’s nobody listening…” But if there was someone listening, they weren’t responding. He’d started trying to contact them again a few weeks back, but to no avail. And with every unanswered signal, he grew increasingly certain that his comm was purposefully blocked, and he knew why.

Coward. For years he’d tried to push it out of his mind, the way he’d fled, the terror he’d known.  No matter that he’d tried to turn things around; no matter that he’d turned his ship back to the fight, it had all come to naught, as they were eventually rounded up and marched into their cells… without him. Because he’d abandoned them. Because he’d been afraid of exactly that. And if the Free People’s Army was mobilising once more, if they were finally breaking themselves free… oh, Nines would never suffer his cowardice to go unpunished.  One way or another, she’d get to him.

He turned his weary blue eyes to the co-pilot’s seat, where Nela was curled up asleep.

Nel.

The only thing that had kept him going all these years. His only reason for being. High paying jobs in his line of work were either extremely dangerous, or deeply unpalatable. She was the reason he’d opted more for the latter, in recent times. Better to do unsavoury work and be able to see to her dinner the following day.

But now… well. It was all going to catch up with him. And he knew he’d have to make sure her future was accounted for before it did.

***

“Well! I think it’s time we pitted our newbloods against one another, get a look at their hand-to-hand skills.” The toned zabrak warrior, chieftain of his clan, turned his eyes to the two newest recruits of Aliit Motir’ang.

Ahuska gulped. Life had certainly taken an unpredictable turn in the last few weeks. She’d never had much hope for being invited into another clan; and especially not now, after the Eternal Empire had rained its blows across the galaxy and soldiers, warriors, tried and proven fighters were all that any rebuilding clan was after.

She’d met Alor Scottrys and his rallymaster, Sydica, doing a simple fodder delivery, overseeing the transport of a crate of live nuna from Dxun to Tattooine. She’d had no idea at the time that their clan were dedicated beast handlers; trappers and trainers both, and in sore need of more hands at that. They didn’t have to watch her handling her sleek silver varactyl long before they extended the offer to join them, and just like that, she found herself telling her old mentor Mirshko’vlk the news, packing her things and getting ready for a whole new life.

Though he was sad to see her go, his pride was undeniable, and the thought of trying to keep her back unthinkable. “Bout time you got yourself off the ranch and out into the galaxy” he’d said, shuffling into her room with a squirming ball of fur and teeth bundled in one arm.

The look that the young Bothan shot him; wide blue eyes, soft and sincere and struck with sudden concern, just made him laugh. “Oh, don’t even think about it, Hus’ika. Don’t you dare think of sticking around on my account. I’ve got Reyr to help around the place, and I’m sure there’s an ad’ika or two down in the Vale that would be happy to earn a few extra credits if she’s not enough. I’ll miss you, sure. The beasts will miss you doubly. But you deserve the chance to make something more of yourself.” The little thing he was carrying revealed itself to be a ten week old Nexu cub with a yowl and a wild flailing of her gaping jaws, at which point Mirshk’ deftly grabbed her by the quills and offered her out to Ahuska. “Here. I know you always wanted one. Something to remember the place by, hm?”

“Oh. Oh shab. Shab! She’s beautiful!” Ahuska scooped her up in an instant, and already those eyes of hers were brimming over. “Vor’e, Mirshk! Vor’e!”

She’d been so busy in the following weeks, she hadn’t even taken the time to settle on a name for the little cub, that now squeezed its way up from her lap and onto the top of the bar at which she sat with her new clanmates. Just a few days prior she’d helped them reclaim their old stronghold, having learned that they’d been forced to abandon it during the galactic conflicts and it had since been settled by a tribe of Sand People. That had been somewhat confronting; as brief and mild as the firefight had been, it was the first time in her life that she’d turned a blaster on another sapient being. But she had handled rifles before, was a reasonable hunter and had been forced to defend herself against dangerous animals before.

This, however? A fist-fight? With a complete stranger? This was something new. And in its own way, completely terrifying.

The man who sat a little way down the bar had to be at least a decade older than her. He’d been lounging there, wise-cracking, making cheeky remarks toward Sydica like he’d known her for years as opposed to having been pulled out of the Hutta swamps and invited back to the clan base only a couple of days ago. Ahuska had been too deathly shy to say anything to him just yet, but now she stared at him, at his bright blue eyes, the brightest she’d ever seen… his shaggy mop of slate grey hair, the rough stubble that accented his jawline and the striking tattoo that coiled its way up the right side of his face…

And then he was turning his broad, toothy grin toward her, and she found herself suddenly shaking her head. “Fight? No… I don’t… I mean I don’t really know how, I’m not sure I’d be any good to… to go up against…”

“Come on,” he said, getting up to his feet and motioning to the door with an incline of his head. For all that he’d been cracking wise and smarmy a moment ago, he now looked so utterly warm and encouraging, Ahuska started to feel herself unravel. “You’ll be fine.”

With her new Alor and rallymaster urging her on, Ahuska followed her roguish new clanmate down to the compound’s arena.

He knew what he was doing; she did not. The fight was short, finished when he delivered a blow to the end of her snout that took her so by surprise she wound up flat on her rear, doing all she could to stop hot tears of pain springing into her eyes. She was hurt, she was embarrassed at her own miserable ability, but she was overjoyed in an utterly inexplicable way.

“I’m going to have to go check in on Nela,” he said, after helping her up and clapping an arm about her shoulders. “But if you want a few pointers some time, I’m pretty sure my tent is right down from yours. Ahuska, was it?”

She nodded, flustered, with her hands pressed to her nose to try and stem the blood flow.

“I’m Crow, not sure you caught that earlier. You did great.” He gave her arm a gentle nudge before heading on his way, and Ahuska felt her heart swell like it never had before.

---

In the timeline where Crow turned left, Ahuska’a knew she’d crossed a line.

One very late night, when she’d successfully completed a hunt that only required the return of the hapless target’s head to receive full payment, she’d set up her camp out in the plains of Dantooine where she’d finally tracked the being down. A pirate of some sort, deserted his crew or double-crossed them or something, she didn’t particularly care about the finer details. Or even the greater details.

He was now just chunks of meat that she was carving up to feed her Anooba, old Rayshe’a, Resol and gangly young E’tad. It was blessedly late, and she was tired, and not looking forward to heading back out to find some game for herself. And so, while stoking her small fire, she came to the conclusion that she wouldn’t. What difference did it make, really? He was already dead. He was about to be devoured anyway. She could go out there and shoot down some animal; some lovely creature that had never crossed her, never done the galaxy a bad turn… or just share the meat with her dogs, a filthy criminal who the galaxy wouldn’t miss.

She knew she crossed a line that night, and felt just enough shame about it that she knew she’d have to keep it from her Clan, distant as she was from them these days. But not enough shame to stop herself.

***

It was a few months later that he tracked her down.

“Ahuska’a Ga’ihlr.”

She looked up from her patch of shade at the man who approached her in the bustling marketplace. A fairly unimpressive looking fellow, old but lean and spry in that way Sith often were, for Sith he surely was, judging by his eyes. “Mmm?”

“The Bothan Butcher?”

“Heh, that what they calling me these days? Easy, E’tad.” She placed a steadying hand at the nape of the young Anooba’s bristling neck. “Who d’you want me to shank, then?”

“Oh, no, no. If it were as simple as that, I’d be quite capable of handling it on my own. I’ve come with more of a… ahhh, business proposition, if you will.”

“Don’t need no partner. ‘n why would you need me if you’re not after a kill?” She spoke with the blunt confidence of one who trusted her reputation to keep her reasonably safe, in the right neighbourhoods.

He was equally to the point. “I need a Bothan. Preferably one with as few scruples as yourself.”

“Hrm?” The look she shot him was equal parts suspicious and curious. “Dunno if you’ve noticed, but I hardly fit the regular mould. Y’ haven’t thought to try Bothawui or Kothlis first?”

“Mmmm, no. I’d rather someone I could trust a little more to actually be on side with me. And, frankly, if you know anything about your own species you’d know why a Bothawui citizen would be less than ideal.”

“Hmf. You’re not really selling yourself, though. Gimme one good reason to hear you out.”

“I’ve watched your career, the last little while. You seem hell bent on punishing the galaxy. Would I be right in assuming it’s because the galaxy took something precious from you, some time ago?”

Ahuska’a stood abruptly, launching into the silver-haired man with a fierce kick to the guts that sent him reeling back a step. “Go feth yourself,” she snarled, pressing forward while her Anooba growled and bristled at her heels. “Before I set my dogs on you.”

He backpedaled swiftly, throwing up his hands in a gesture that was part surrender, part threat, as the dancing flickers of electricity crackled about his fingertips and made it plain he was prepared to defend himself. “What if I told you there was a way to undo that?”

Ahuska’a froze. A bewildering emotion seized hold of her, and it took a few long, furious moments for her to recognise it. Hope. How dare he give her hope. “You’ve got five minutes to convince me before I let my dogs eat you just for suggesting that.”

And so it was that Ulfran brought Ahuska’a on board on his hunt for the Tempus Shard.

=====

Aaaaaaa okay this segment is a little dear to my heart, because not only do we see the moment where Ahuska and Crow meet for the first time... but also the RP where I met @humanrevolt for the first time, too. And what a damned brilliant ride it’s been from that point!! I hope my memory serves it well.

[depizan]

SWTOR for the ask

Yep, that got long...

001 | Send me a fandom and I will tell you my:

Favorite character: Not counting my own, I assume. Well...I really like most of the female companions, actually. Of those that I trust wouldn’t put interesting substances in my drink, Elara is probably the most well rounded. The male companions somehow don’t stand out as much (except when it’s in a bad way), but I do like Vector a lot. And Blizz. And there are some better done NPCs...oddly, most of them spies.

Least Favorite character: Hmm...Skadge or Space Voldemort? That’s a tough call. They both seem like escapees from particularly unpleasant tabletop roleplaying games. Just Skadge is a player’s terrible character and Space Voldemort is the GM’s terrible GMPC. Skadge is more pointless, but also more avoidable, while Space Voldemort at least has plot (even if it’s badly written), but is completely unavoidable unless you avoid the expansions entirely. Which might be a good plan, anyway.

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): I haven’t played all of the romances (most of the romances?), but... Elara/Trooper is well done, and so, though I’m not quite sure I’d call it a romance, is Kaliyo/Agent (though, as Kaliyo is VERY CLEARLY BI, she should’ve been romanceable by f!Agents as well.) Uh... I’ve read some fanfic with other acceptable romances, even some I don’t like in game. (And haven’t played the other romances I’ve heard will not make me wonder if the galaxy has restraining orders.)

Character I find most attractive: Again, not counting my own, I assume. Hmm... I don’t know. Again, it’s a galaxy with a tendency toward aesthetically pleasing people. Maybe Kira? ???

Character I would marry: N/A

Character I would be best friends with: I don’t know. Most of the non-dangerous, non-let-me-get-my-mace companions seem like they’d be cool to hang out with. And I’d like to think I’d get on with at least some of my own characters.

a random thought: Please, Bioware, give us the option to turn off your horrible graphics update so I can actually play the game again. Please? The pre-KoFEET character models aren’t detailed enough for the wrinkle invasion not to be thoroughly uncanny valley. At least to me. It borders on that horrible old animation style with the live lips. Only with wrinkles. (And, yeah, with the right body types, species, or makeup, it works fine. Sadly, none of those are of help to me.)

An unpopular opinion: I can think of at least two popular male companions that strike me as less romantic and more “please get off my ship now.” I also dearly wish they hadn’t gone all anime ages on a lot of the companions. It makes their backstories hurt my brain. Then there’s that little problem of the Republic NPCs tending to be staggeringly incompetent and/or prone to random and inexplicable bouts of evil and somehow none of this has any of the fallout it seems like it really, really should. No, the Republic doesn’t need to be perfect shiny good, but half the time it’s such a mess that I can’t work out how anyone in universe could possibly not notice. Like, the people in the Empire notice the evil, they just don’t see it as evil, or think it’s necessary. Over in the Republic it’s like...has your drinking water all gone bad??? Though, actually, hell let’s go for the big unpopular opinion - I don’t actually like the Charcoal Gray/Black morality. I’d rather shift the entire morality up several notches and have neither the Republic nor the Empire be as terrible as they are in game. And then stick with the Cold War premise. That was interesting and different. And sustainable as a game setting.

my canon OTP: Uh... Mako/Torian? Trooper/Elara? Kaliyo/mayhem? Or does this mean my canon specifically? Because my canon and game canon are not entirely the same thing.

Non-canon OTP: Or does this mean my canon? Though the only romantic OTP in my own canon is Mako/Savler. (Yeah, if Havoc Squad ever makes an appearance, Tevin and Elara are a thing, but that’s even more background.)

most badass character: I think Jace Malcom might get the most epic non-Force User bit in the trailers. In game...I’m not sure. (And, of course, in the tie-ins there’s Theron I-Inexplicably-Take-Out-Sith-Lords Shan.)

pairing I am not a fan of: Oh dear. Well...some of the pairings I generally don’t like have been done well in people’s fanfic. I’m still not sure what the hell Bioware was thinking with some of them, but... That said, I have no idea if either DS!Jaesa/SW or Agent/Hunter can somehow be redeemed in fic because I am not touching either with a ten foot pole. Whatever floats other people’s boats and all, but they can have those boats aaaaall to themselves.

character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): Everyone in KoFEET? Setting that aside... General Garza should not have been giving highly illegal and evil orders. WTF, writers? She can be a Did What I Had to Do sort without resorting to that. Take a look at the writing for Keeper, then keep in mind that Garza is in the Republic, and adjust accordingly. Governor Saresh. Have her be being a hardass about the reconstruction of her own planet, not a rakghoul infested cesspit that’s been abandoned for centuries. Boom. Reasonable character. Too many of the characters on Coruscant to go into here. Not so sure you should’ve gone for the whole Depraved Bisexual thing with Hunter, especially considering the reveal. For that matter did the unnecessary and illogical Imperial baddie in the Smuggler story need to be making rape threats? (Did he even need to exist? Signs point to no.) While on that topic, Rogun the Butcher’s Heel Face Turn makes slightly less than no sense and he would’ve been a perfectly acceptable actual bad guy. Again, the whole Dubrillion thing with Risha feels tacked on and wrong. Did anyone’s characterization make much sense past a certain point in the Bounty Hunter story? Please, someone instruct General Failfish, I mean Var Suthra in the fine art of how top secret things should work and also in the concept of background checks. The list goes on.

favourite friendship: Uh... setting aside my own characters... I really, really like Vector’s friendship with a male Agent. It is just wonderfully supportive and neat. (And rare in fiction.) Havoc Squad comes together rather well. If you excise a certain person, so does the Bounty Hunter’s crew. The Jedi Knight and Kira can also have a really good friendship. And, oddly enough, so can Vette and a f!Sith Warrior. (Possibly a m!Sith Warrior, but I don’t know how that is exactly in game, having not played one.)

character I want to adopt or be adopted by: I think I’ll second your idea that we save Vette from the Empire.

[badsithnocookie]

au: where eirn is a sith warrior, not the sith warrior

the moment of change is on korriban. still angry with her parents, still regretting her short-sighted application to dreshdae, still smarting from the wounds inflicted on her by tremel's pet. she did a slightly better job of clearing up after herself here, though; got away without being so much as suspected, and thus was passed over by the likes of vemrin and baras entirely.

she avenges her fallen bunkmate, as she always did, and comes into contact, not long after, with that bunkmate's overseer. a slightly odd man by the name of emmoridg, who claims - to eirn's irritation - to have an unspeakable thing or two in common with her.

it takes her a while to work out why and what, and when she does, she's as afraid as she is angry. how did he puzzle her out so easily - how dare he accuse her of heresy - and how does he get away with this, right under the inquisition's nose-?

but he does, somehow, and he connects eirn with a heretic looking for an apprentice; who takes one look at eirn and disapproves, in part because the shell she wears is far too perfect, and in part because the chinks where light shines through are far too obvious, simultaneously far too sith for one so humble, and far too gentle for one so sith.

her master, like all masters, teaches harshly, sending eirn around the empire and its territories as a messenger - as a message. still, eirn enjoys the opportunity for travel, and makes the most of her freedom, no matter how limited it may be. her temper and her lightsaber get her into trouble as much as out of it, but such was always going to be the way, for her. her master finds her temper entertaining - finds it a relief, telling eirn on at least one occasion that the likes of them are proof that jedi do not have a monopoly on the light. it's a rare moment of explicit acknowledgement of the path they walk: of its utter contradiction, rejection of the darkness and embracing of the light; rejection of the jedi, and embracing of the sith.

she meets, in passing, a strangely calm once-jedi, who introduces herself as willsaam and who claims to know the light in eirn's heart. for a moment, eirn is terrified beyond measure - convinced that willsaam is with the inquisition, here to demonstrate the reasons that her mother kept so much to herself - but willsaam is on her side, or so she says, and offers only company and companionship. they spend a long night talking in hushed tones - exchanging ideas and comparing Force techniques. eirn teaches willsaam the shell she hides her light beneath, the near-impenetrable cloak she perfected beneath the inquisition's gaze in dreshdae; willsaam teaches eirn a meditation, stolen from jedi and given new purpose by sith. when they part ways, eirn supposes she'll likely never see this sith again, and lights an extra candle the next ancestral day she commemorates.

like many heretics and agitators for reform in the empire, eirn's master - and by extension, eirn - receive an overture from malgus. not in person, not explicitly, but the signs are there and eirn pretends she cannot read them. the empire, for all its faults, is home; regardless of whether or not the republic have lied, of whether the emperor yet lives or has indeed fallen to a jedi blade, now is not the time to splinter imperial forces with civil war. her master disagrees; their last argument is a heated one, with eirn accused of selfish cowardice and accusing her master, in turn, of short-sighted ambition.

in the wake of malgus's execution, eirn finds herself among the accused - the apprentice, guilty of the sins of the master, even if eirn attempts - feebly - to argue she had nothing to do with malgus's coup. in an attempt to prove herself - her loyalty, her status as sith - she finds herself on makeb, working alongside another disgraced sith - this one more directly than she. cytharat is a guarded, wary sith - but so is she, acutely aware as she is of both her heresies and the irony of those same heresies being what prevented her from acting against the empire to begin with. they find a common purpose, though, and claim makeb for the Empire - parting ways on good terms, despite the feeling that eirn can never shake that he is a far more orthodox sith than she.

makeb garners her attention from the dark council, and not the sort she'd like - not, really, that she prizes any kind of scrutiny from such powerful sith. eirn has no idea if marr can tell where her loyalties and sympathies lie - but when he offers her a place under his command, she's not stupid enough to turn it down. for one thing, it's a great honour; for another, it would be a great insult to refuse, and eirn has no desire to get on the bad side of someone who obscures himself so visibly in Darkness that would drown out even dreshdae.

she's serving on his fleet over rishi, assigned to an imperial boarding party - and then, abruptly, to chasing down and weeding out the traitors among their number. there's an irony in her familiarity with revanite doctrine; one heresy among hundreds that her long-dead master had entertained, even if eirn's not certain she's not equally long blacklisted by the traitors. on the yavin moon, she glares defensively at passing republic patrols and itches to steal conversation with the few jedi there who look at her and hers without the sort of murderous intent she's learned to mimic in kind. she gets her chance on a foray into massassi territory, cutting a path for greater sith than she to reach the temple's peak and put a stop to the growing madness. there's not much that can be said with observers present, but they manage - two Force users, who should be diametrically opposed, working in a kind of synergy that feels more right than all the orthodoxy she has ever tried to fake.

she's still under marr's command when ziost crumbles; when all she can do is watch the news feeds with numb, uncomprehending grief, and when all she wants to do is scream-

and when the once-wrath stands at marr's side, eirn cannot help but look at the other sith with mistrust. the emperor's own executioner, swearing fealty to those abandoned and turned on by their master? why should any of them believe - even for an instant - that this could end any other way than poorly?

but marr and the once-wrath fall in battle, and that question is one that never has to be answered - and eirn, in the republic's custody, snatched from the jaws of death by the enemy, can only reflect that marr supposed the chance was worth the risk. he must have known what she was, after all, and yet still allowed her to serve him; and, for all their poor choice in masters, the once-wrath defended the empire to their very end. that, if nothing else, must be worth some kind of honour.

(she lights a candle for them, next ancestral day; meditates on it until she falls asleep and dreams of carbonite and wonders, on waking, if this could all have ever ended any other way)

[cinvhetinordo]

Hunt on Ossus

[22:29]  The Mandalorian bounty hunter finally made it to the hotel where Nicci had been staying, drunk every so often apparently. Soron looked around, and upon noting that she was the only presence, opted to do something he very, very rarely did. He weakened his helmet's seal, unlatched it, and removed the technological marvel. He held it in his hands, revealing a pale white face -- likely born on Mandalore -- covered by short but uncared for facial hair, a fair bruise across the cheek, and slight skin across his chin.

[22:30]  "Su'cuy, vod'ika." He said.

[22:35] Nicci Ordo did not have her own helmet on because she had been drinking water like a fish.  She was so dry mouthed from consuming half the bar the night before, that she felt she would never be satisfied again.  However, she was eventually, and had been busy draining water when he walked in.  She had already seen him with his helmet off once, but it was when she had knocked it off.  "Su'cuy," she said simply.  He had not been seen in a while, and she found this mildly irritating.

[22:43]  The Mandalorian's scratched lips quirked into a faint smile in response to her greeting. His maroon eyes met her green orbs, "Tug'yc, ni ceta." he began with a somewhat earnest apology, "Other than offering you the chance to hunt a Jedi sorcerer with me instead, given that the Sith seem to be holed up in their Citadel in the Upper City, I'd like to offer you a gift to make up for my... lone operation." he said, walking over to the couch to drop his helmet onto it. He reached behind him, into his Z-6 jetpack, and grabbed a bottle out of hard liquor, "Vintage Corellian whiskey. Four thousand credits -- rare but delicious, they say." his unfiltered voice said, "I don't drink often, but... something makes me think you're the right person to drink with. I propose we down a few glasses now, and then a few on our hyperspace journey to the Jedi's homeworld."

[22:50] Nicci Ordo's eyebrow raised a little at his somewhat groveling apology, unsure what to really say to it.  When he pulled out the whiskey she almost groaned.  She had just spent all the night before drinking and only had just now gotten her body back to normal.  Her drink of choice was typically ne'tra gal.  She had never even had Corellian whiskey before.  She considered turning it down, but inwardly figured kriff it and walked over to him.  "I drink often.  But, being as how you do not, you sure your body is prepared for that just before you go hunt something?" she smirked a little.

[22:57]  "Oh please, I'll sweat it out. I'm a Mandalorian, handling hard liquor is in my blood." Soron replied with a mild smirk as he opened the bottle up, bringing it closer to his nose to take in the scent briefly, "Besides, I'm very familiar with this sort of alcohol. It's my favorite. Vweilu nuts give this a woody, spicy flavor that's similar to the scent of Caamsi." he spoke, clearly versed in what he was consuming. He brought it up to his lips, but just before the bottle touched them he hesitated, and offered it to her, "Here. Go for it first, vod'ika."

[23:08] Nicci Ordo's eyebrow raised a little more at being addressed as vod'ika so familiarly a second time.  She had been under the impression this one hated Ordos for the most part. She still looked at him somewhat suspiciously as she raised the bottle to her lips and drank from it. It was quite smoother than she expected.  She took another, slightly longer drink and passed it back.  "So...what is the occasion exactly?  Nothing to spend your money on?"

[23:18] Soron accepted the bottle back, allowing a brief chuckle to escape his lips, "Hah. Nayc, on the contrary, I hit a big enough payout to warrant celebratory expenses. I managed the capture of Mandalorian self-exile Gryff McCallen. The Fel Empire presiding over Mos Eisley paid out the bounty for bringing in the criminal warlord, and I accompanied one of their squads to Yavin IV, where the prisoner was transferred to the YSF and the local Jedi order for further questioning by GFFR forces." he explained, "I'll be splitting the five hundred thousand credits amongst the branch of Journeyman Protectors that operate on Mandalore, us few who are first and foremost royal guards to Mand'alor when we have one. But that's only four of us elite warriors, so I get plenty to spend my reward on. A little fun with a fellow warrior is certainly a worthwhile expense." he said, before raising the bottle her way and finally taking a swig. His gulps were big, but concentrated. He allowed the smooth alcohol to wash down his throat, and licked over his lips before passing the bottle.

[23:23] Nicci Ordo just found herself smirking at him. "Well I guess that makes up for leaving me here for two days while you ran off to go make more money clearly," she winked at him a little, accepting the offered bottle again, and took a much longer drink than before.  She had held back out of politeness.  A 4000c bottle of alcohol was nothing to just chug when sharing with someone.  But when she heard how much he had made, she figured why not.  "Well honored that it should be me then.  I would think your Alor would be someone you would rather spend your time with." she speculated.

[23:34]  "Ner alor was on a contract for the Republic military. He's relayed coordinates and naval tactics to me -- I'll be extending the work opportunity to the Protectors and other Mandalorian mercenaries willing to assist. We'll be taking part in a starship-boarding strike of the Hapes fleet, I believe." Soron recalled job specifics, his eyes wandering as if searching for the information in the distance. He eventually shook his head, "But I won't bore you with work, vod'ika, I know you prefer to... 'fight for your own people.' Oya." he offered his cheers and raised the bottle her way, taking another solid swig, this time even grander. Oof, they had just about finished up about a quarter if not a third of the bottle, these crazy Mandalorians! And the bottle was actually 8000c, but Soron didn't like to flex too much, "But I... I'm still sorry for somewhat abandoning you. Like I said, I'll make it up to you by being with you every minute of this Jedi hunt." he said, offering that rare half-hearted smile of his, "Speaking of which, you have your ship on-world? I ordered the Kom'rk-class pilot to head back to Mandalorian space."

[23:35]  The Mandalorian did, of course, hold out the bottle again, to see if she'd take more of the delicious liquid.

[23:38] Nicci Ordo did indeed take more of it, taking another drink before she answered.  Her cheeks were blushed red from the alcohol, feeling the effects quite prominently now. "Well of course my ship is here.  It isn't like I would send it on auto pilot to go flying in a joy ride while I sat here." she replied.  "You don't expect me to actually pilot it now though do you?" she laughed, and hiccuped sharply, before passing the bottle back.  She was pleased he respected her views enough to mention them without condescension.  She made note to return the favor in the future.

[23:44] Soron took the bottle back, his eyes running over it, studying how much they'd drank. He smirked and decided that, because he usually practiced continence with alcoholic beverages, that he'd take the extra, last sip. It wasn't as big as his other two, but it certainly made him wrinkle his forehead and nose momentarily. He spoke whilst heading back to the couch and replacing the cap, his own cheeks and chin blushed, though trajectory seemingly stable. He was tipsy, joyful, "I did, but I suppose it's best to be sober. I can recall the pilot before he gets too far?" he proposed, turning her way with inquisitive eyes and a quirk of the side of his mouth, in a trusting manner. He was searching for her opinion -- he didn't care for many a Mandalorian's opinion.

[23:51] Nicci Ordo nodded, "That would be the responsible thing.  Either of us could enter in wrong coordinates and send us straight into a star or something else unpleasant.  I want to go out with a bang but not over something silly." she found herself smiling at him.  She never smiled.  Like, ever.  Like literally never ever.  It wasn't just rare, it was never!  She frowned as he replaced the cap.  She wanted more of that.  But was probably best she remained on-the-verge of drunk instead of fully so.  Her face was just warm and that was all, though she was considerably loosened up from her usual harsh-self.  "So where are we going?"

[00:02]  "Well, as great as a beach on Zeltros sounds right now, I'd say after the potential Jedi on my list." Soron said without a slur, though with an odd sense of happiness. His eyes still fixated upon the other, he let his smile grow, rolling his shoulders backwards twice in an almost-giddy fashion, "My tracking's leading me to Ossus. I'll get the pilot to return. We'll set up a tent on-world to work out of. Let's... drink on the way, we're celebrating after all." he said, before stuffing the whiskey into a jetpack compartment. He tapped buttons upon his forearm gauntlet, likely to reach the pilot to signal for a return.

[00:06] Nicci Ordo scowled.  Beaches sounded rather horrible to her.  Sand.  Ew.  "I know we are going after the Jedi, my question was what planet!" she rolled her eyes.  But he mentioned Ossus which answered her anyway.  She wholeheartedly concurred with drinking on the way there.  "Might as well, neither of us are driving.  Never been to Ossus before." she mused. She actually really liked travelling to different worlds.

[00:09] Soron exhaled a quiet snort, before turning to grab up his helmet. He strengthened and latched his seal, placing the helmet over his head again, "Then let's get going. We'll enjoy the bottle on the way, hopefully we'll still have what it takes to set up a temporary camp for us on Ossus. I reckon we can handle our alcohol." his filtered voice came through, before he started on his way towards the door.

[00:12] Nicci Ordo nodded, walking to the bed and grabbing her own helmet, and her repeater.  she put the helmet on her head and it sealed similarly, and swung the repeater on her shoulder.  She walked over to the droid and slapped it, which "woke" it up of sorts, and it moved to follow her.  "Lead on then.  No idea what your ship looks like."

*HYPERSPACE TRAVEL TO OSSUS*

[00:23]  The duo of Mandalorians were picked up by the Kom'rk-class fighter piloted by a Journeyman Protector, likely one from the Concord Dawn or Concordia branch given the vessel. The dropship's underbelly opened and lowered the two's seats, permitting them a jetpack-assisted exit. By then they'd have drank the entirety of the bottle, so they'd certainly be at least tipsy. Jetpacking in formation would have been laughably impossible, and the two's landing in the woods, especially with all the camp/tent gear they'd have to carry, might have been a tad wobbly.

[00:31] Nicci Ordo jumped free of the craft, igniting her jetpack when she was about halfway down, landing rather ungracefully tripped up by a root until her back was against one of the trees.  She stamped out the fire quickly before it became a national hazard, and looked about to see if she was anywhere near Soron, since as he had said, jetpacking in formation would have been impossible.

[00:34] Soron was naturally quite masterful at jetpack maneuverability, but his somewhat intoxicated state messed with his mental speed. He lost balance, though held onto the bag, and opted for a rough landing, during which he was forced into a series of side-ways rolls before coming to a stop not too far ahead of Nicci. He'd throw the bag with the tent aside, and force himself onto a knee, grunting, "Nrrgghhh. /That/ was fun." he buzzed sarcastically, unable to lose his good mood. Alcohol does that, he figured.

[00:39] Nicci Ordo moved a branch full of leaves out of the way of her visor and spotted him.  She cracked a few of her joints and moved toward where he had landed, looking at the bag he tossed aside.  "Hopefully the tent is still intact.  Maybe we should have waited to finish that bottle after we got down here." she considered for a moment.  "Arent the jedi going to use their weird voodoo osik to sense us coming or whatever?" she asked.  She didn't trust force users as far as she could throw them.

[00:45] Soron laughed genuinely as he semi-crawled along the ground, dragging his sole knee along the muddy grass. "Hahahahah. I'm sure our oh-so-inconspicuous landing drew more attention than any space magic they have could." he buzzed humorously, before glancing at the bag, "The tent will be fine. We're on-world alive and totally, totally, /tota/--hahah--lly prepped. Here, help me set it up." he buzzed, deciding to shift over to it and begin opening it up. He tapped the side of his helmet briefly, too, to order the pilot to head back to Mandalorian space, for good now. Drunk boss, totally. This was rare.

[00:48] Nicci Ordo grunted through her helmet.  "Well then maybe we should have at least brought a second bottle so we can drink more after the tent is pitched," she contemplated, "Something less expensive though, that bottle was good but I don't know if it was THAT good," she said, waiting for him to open the bag up and toss her an end so she could secure it.  "Shouldn't the pilot hang around a bit closer, in case every Jedi here heard our landing and decides we aren't welcome?" she asked.  Though Mandalorian space was reasonably close to Ossus.  She thought anyway.

[00:52] Soron shook his head as the Gauntlet starfighter sped through the atmosphere, breaking out of orbit eventually and heading to a different system entirely, "Nayc, higher numbers increase the chances we'll get spotted. The Jedi aren't pro-actively anticipating visitors, so... we'll like... Nicci, just... just don't worry. We have what it takes, vod'ika, heheheh." he buzzed, pulling out the single tent out of the bag. He threw her one side, and began securing the other.

[00:54] Nicci Ordo took the end, and there seemed to be very little fabric there so she actually tried for several minutes to unfold the thing, as if she were expecting the tent to be a lot bigger than what was in her hand.  After several attempts at trying to peel away the fabric, she looked up at him slowly. "Uh...Soron..." she began...pausing.

[00:58] Soron 's muscle memory and heavily-affected hand-eye coordination by all means worked against each other, but he just about managed to set up one side of the tent, raising its height. He'd raised himself to his soldier boots, and so walked around to Nicci and got onto a knee beside her, "Olar, ni gaa'taylir." he buzzed, proceeding to do just that -- help her unfold the fabric, "Haa'taylir?"

[01:02] Nicci Ordo noticed the tent did not unfold anymore than what was in her hand, and just stood there silent a moment, a long, awkward moment.  "I...um....did...you brought another tent right?" she asked.  Surely he could not mean for them both to cram into this thing.  There was no way they would even fit with her armor and weapons on, which she naturally slept with always.  "Riiiight?"

[01:05] Soron 's visor focused on Nicci for a long moment. Then it glanced at the tent shortly, and then Nicci again. His blinks of confusion were hidden behind his helmet, but eventually he huffed past the vox, ".. Fuck." and fell to his side, exhaling a deep breath, "Fuuuck. Nayc." he groaned, "I only carry mine on the field. Fuck, I thought you'd have one somewhere amongst your skulls or somethin'... blrrgh." yeah, alcohol totally impeded their planning.

[01:09] Nicci Ordo just looked at him incredulously, "Among my skulls?  Really vod?  Where in the kriff would a whole tent fit among the skulls?" she asked.  "Though you did just give me an idea of what to use to pour rum in next time," she admitted.  "It is not really an issue.  I can sleep against the tree I crashed into.  If it is sturdy enough to hold me slamming into it then leaning against it to sleep should be no problem..." she trailed off.

[01:11]  "Nayc, nayc, nayc. I wouldn't discomfort you like that, vod'ika." Soron buzzed, shaking his head and forcing himself onto his knees, "Go ahead, try to get in. We might have to squeeze, but I reckon we can fit." the drunk him proposed a risk.

[01:19] Nicci Ordo just stood there for a moment.  She considered telling him that she had slept on much worse things than a tree, but she was so taken aback by him proposing they squeeze in there together, she was just silent for a minute.  Her face was as red as her hair under her helmet.  She decided to just not say anything, least her voice betray what she was thinking.  She at least took the repeater off and lay it against the tree, before climbing in to the tent.  She damn near filled it up with just herself already.  Her armor was not only massive, but her body was curvy enough to make it a really tight fit for literally anything else.

[01:24] Soron climbed in after her, his plating bumping against hers. He'd struggle in the limited space, before he essentially ended up pressing up against Nicci's back. He fiddled with her jetpack to try unlatch and de-magnetize it, before shoving it /just/ outside of the still-open tent, along with his own Z-6. It'd be then that he'd bump his armored forehead against the back of her head, cursing, "Blast it." before removing the helmet and placing it by the jetpack just beyond the open flap to the tent, "That seems... better. Not too tight?" his unfiltered voice asked.

[01:27] Nicci Ordo was not at all better, and her beskad hilts would definitely have been sticking into his back pretty hard.  She reached her hand behind her and unbuckled them, putting them near her head at the tent opening.  He would now be bumping his head against her armored head though, which probably wouldn't feel too good.  For some reason she was hesitant to remove her helmet now though. "Um....this is tight as kriff if I'm being honest," she grunted, laughing a little.

[01:31]  "Staaaaabi <Riiiiight>." Soron huffed, semi-awkwardly and at the same time tiredly. He'd shifted uncomfortably to give her at least some room to remove the blades, and once settled with their plates basically pressed up against each other, he'd rest his head against the ground of the tent, tiredly, "But low-key too tired to move." he mumbled honestly, cracking a short chuckle, "Hahah."

[01:38] Nicci Ordo pretty much slid down the slope right to the edge of the tent, and used that as an almost hammock-like pillow, still feeling massively awkward and was beginning to wonder how she let this man talk her into hunting people in the first place.  In fact she pretty much questioned everything ever right then, and was wide awake for the moment.  She just stood staring through her visor at the grey canvas, shifting about uneasily but trying not to disturb him as he was clearly tired.  "It will be...uh...fine..."

[01:43]  "So.. *yawwwn* ... so long as you're sure, vod'ika. Rest.. rest is important for any warrior, gives us the energy to fight." Soron mumbled a notion he was taught. Eventually, he leaned his head forwards tiredly, his fleshy and slightly bruised forehead pressing up against the back of her helmet.

[01:46] Nicci Ordo just nodded in response but didn't say anything else.  She just sat there, awkwardly, like someone that just had a kitten lay on them and had no idea what to do.  She didn't move, but lay there rather stiffly, her visor fogging up from the exhaust being pushed back in from venting against the canvas.  She probably, wasn't going to be resting much.

[01:50] Soron was having the absolute opposite experience. Given that he was by all means susceptible to alcohol as he drank it ever-so-rarely, the Mandalorian was giddy and light-headed, which led to general tiredness. In his tiredness, as he was slowly but surely, and by all means naturally, losing consciousness, he mumbled, "Udesiir, vod'ika. Nuhoyir.." he mumbled finally. Ha gloved hand, as opposed to being awkwardly placed, opted to shift to lay quietly upon the side of her thigh plate as he was likely slowly dozing off.

[01:56] Nicci Ordo did NOT relax.  In fact when his gloved hand rested on her thigh she got even more unrelaxed.  She hadn't been this close to another person unless it was in a fight, in,  decades!  Actual decades!  There was an unusual feeling of warm fuzzies, weird fluttering things in her stomach, and extreme social anxiety within her that just had no idea how to even remotely process this.  She wanted to slice the tent open in front of her and roll out of it, and run for the tree.  This woman who would face any enemy no matter how intimidating was paralyzed completely.  She simply didn't move, squeezed her eyes closed, and started whispering the resol'nare.

[02:05] Soron 's keen ears caught onto the whispers, and in his sleep he too recounted the rhyme that was ingrained into him at birth, silently mumbling it subconsciously, "Ba'jur... bal beskar'gam... ara'nov... aliit... Mando'ad.... bal Mand'alor.... An ven-...-cuyan mhi."

[mcnaughton]

Abandoning Hope -- Some Thoughts on Rogue One: A Star Wars Story

*NOTE: I wrote this the day after seeing Rogue One at the cinema. I don't do FB, so I posted it to my neglected G+ and linked to Twitter ( twitter.com/drewmcnaughton ). Every few years I remember I have a Tumblr, so I'm sharing it here 6 months later. Also, to correct the opening sentence, I did not see R1 again in theaters, making it the first live action Star Wars movie I've ever only seen once on the big screen. Enjoy....... Original Post 12/16/16 ( https://plus.google.com/108163877778963936170/posts/TUqccQPVkzf ) I will see Rogue One again while it is still at the cinema. That isn't really saying much since I saw Phantom Menace five times during the summer of 1999, back when I had way more time on my hands and George Lucas was only in his first phase of ruining my childhood. Today at work, I told people who knew I saw it last night that if they like Star Wars, then Rogue One is worth seeing, and if they had seen all of them, then they had already seen worse Star Wars movies as well as much better ones (among which I would include The Force Awakens). I did not really know what to expect walking into Rogue One as I had read no spoilers other than there would be no opening crawl (real spoilers will follow below). While I was looking forward to seeing it, it was the least excited I had ever been for a new Star Wars movie (I was 4 years old when Jedi premiered, and the Emperor's force lightning torture of Luke was too much for my little mind to handle). I identified at least two reasons for my lack of enthusiasm: it would not move the saga forward nor would it likely answer long pondered questions since in at least a general sense we already know what happens because it is literally spelled out for us in the opening title crawl of the original Star Wars. Also, we just got a new Star Wars a year ago. I probably will be much more excited for Episode VIII next year, but it is also possible that the House of Mouse Star Wars saturation is already taking its toll. ***Spoilers below, you've been warned*** I walked away from Rogue One with mixed feelings. I did not enjoy it as much as I did last year's The Force Awakens. This is largely due to Rogue One’s paper thin characters. I don’t dislike Jyn or the Captain guy. The blind Jedi inspired warrior and his brick shithouse companion are fun. I especially got a huge kick out of blind Chirrut (I had to Google his name because I honestly could not remember it) saying "May the Force of Others Be With You" and his reference to the Whills, both of which are ancient relics of the earliest drafts of The Star Wars by Lucas (I highly recommend The Star Wars comic book miniseries that brings the rough draft to life; it isn't exactly what I'd characterize as a good story, but it is a fascinating look at from what Star Wars evolved, as well as how certain elements emerged decades later in the prequels, for better or worse). But the only character I really cared about was the droid K-2S0. He dies. They all die. That was fairly predictable. But only K-2S0's sacrifice made me even somewhat emotional. The Captain is a one note character, and while I embrace the diversity on display in these new Star Wars films, I honestly had a difficult time understanding some of his dialogue due at least in part to the character’s (or actor’s) accent. Then there is Jyn, who goes from not really caring about the Rebellion (or anything for that matter) to preaching about "hope" to Mon Mothma almost immediately after her father is killed, seemingly turning on a dime in terms of her character’s motivation. This character’s shift is less convincing than Anakin's turn to the Dark Side. I cared less about Jyn after 2+ hours than I did about Rey in her first couple of minutes on screen in The Force Awakens while scavenging the crashed Star Destroyer, hocking her goods, and making her portion of space bread. Maybe it was a difference in the quality of the acting, the script writing, or both. The absense of characters in whom I am emotionally invested is a big problem I have in fully embracing Rogue One. Not caring about the characters is largely what sank the prequels, especially The Phantom Menace (though to be fair, I really liked Ewan McGregor’s performance in Attack of the Clones because he seemed to be having fun with the role, and even Hayden Christensen had a few shining moments about midway through Revenge of the Sith where I actually felt his inner turmoil). Speaking of which, Darth Vader is in Rogue One and it is pretty awesome. We see his lava planet castle, based on old conceptual art for Empire Strikes Back, I believe. Most of the planets in Rogue One are identified by title cards. This one is not, though I assumed it was Mustafar and I'm sure that will be confirmed or denied through some official Star Wars sanctioned means if it hasn't already. I absolutely love the planet Jedha, with the relics of the last remaining Jedi temple and fallen statues that are very much in the spirit of the Lord of the Rings films (think The Argonath from Fellowship of the Ring). Pretty much everything that happens on this planet are my favorite parts of the movie. I'm getting slightly ahead of myself here though. The film opens with a somewhat cliched scene of young Jyn seeing the murder of her mother and abduction of her father by the Imperial bad guy who needs help finishing the construction of the Death Star. It is notable that the mother is wearing clothing very similar to the Jedi robes in the prequels that were also worn by common Tatooine folks in A New Hope and Return of the Jedi. She also is the bearer of a Kyber Crystal, which have long been known to be the power element for both Jedi/Sith lightsabers as well as the Death Star's main weapon, though never acknowledged on film until now. We then flash forward to Jyn in an imperial jail. It is at this point that I really started to worry about Rogue One because in the next 10 minutes, we visit at least 4 different planets, and I started to wonder if the film was heading into a narrative nightmare not witnessed since David Lynch's Dune (which, in full disclosure, I absolutely love, though I'd never try to convince anyone that it is actually a good movie). Fortunately it does not (although perhaps Rogue One would be far more memorable if it was a complete disaster of a film rather than one that is just somewhat off its mark). As I write this, it has been about 24 hours since I saw Rogue One, and that brief, messy stretch of the film is mostly a blur in my mind, but at its outset, Jyn is going to help the Rebels find Saw Gerrera played by Ghost Dog himself Forest Whitaker because plot reasons.. That leads to the terrific sequences on Jedha. The film is worth seeing for these alone. In The Force Awakens, Han Solo stated that Luke Skywalker went in search of the last Jedi temple. Perhaps what we see on Jedha will come into play in next year's Episode VIII, or perhaps not. There was no teaser for Episode VIII before or after Rogue One. Then a bunch of stuff happens: Jyn's dad dies, we see Tarkin which is cool, and we see some other OT characters, some of whom's cameos are clever, while others are shameless fan service and pandering. And then we get to the film's third act, which has been what most people who have seen and enjoyed Rogue One have pointed to as its highlight. Frankly, I was underwhelmed. Again, I got a little emotional when the droid K-2S0 is killed protecting Jyn and Captain guy. Many of the more iconic images from the film's trailers didn't even make into the final cut of this sequence (which calls into question the apparent validity of the rumors of the production being troubled). I did not hate this extended sequence, but this is the first time in any Star Wars movie where I was not fully engaged in the epic battle. Yes, that includes the ones in the prequels. I did really like when Darth Vader's Star Destroyer popped up to thwart any sense of pure victory the Rebels may have felt after capturing the Death Star plans. Then we see Princess Leia, obviously a special effect, and she lightspeeds away on the Tantave IV into the opening shot of Episode IV. This all calls into question why The House of Mouse felt compelled to make this movie. Well, the answer is simple, to continue to make "a shitload of money" (to quote Lone Star from Spaceballs) off of their $4 billion investment. But why this story? My guess is that the powers that be recognized that Revenge of the Sith’s attempt to tie directly into the beginning of A New Hope failed miserably, largely because of the 20 year gap in the saga timeline between the two films. This is probably why they went with Princess Leia at the end of Rogue One and not Artoo and Threepio, since we already saw them on the Tantave IV in one of the last shots in Episode III. There's a lot of unaccounted for events on the Star Wars timeline, especially in light of the abandonment of the Extended Universe (which was fine by me because most of those novels and comic books were really dumb) and the introduction of new characters, concepts and entities in The Force Awakens. Maybe years from now (or much sooner) we'll get to see the Battle of Jaku on the big screen in another standalone film. I would have preferred that to what we get in Rogue One. Some of my specific nitpicks, such as how can the X- and U-Wings destroy the AT-ATs when in Empire Strikes Back their "armor is too strong for blasters", I've already found answers to -- according to Den Of Geek, these are actually AT-ACTs, designed for cargo, not combat ( http://www.denofgeek.com/us/movies/star-wars/260771/star-wars-rogue-one-easter-eggs-and-reference-guide ). My brother picked up on some other nitpicks, particularly how the end of Rogue One and the beginning of A New Hope don't exactly match up ( https://t.co/q881t4Jr5e ). I'm sure more of those will occur to the collective Star Wars community as time goes by and second, third and perhaps fourth theatrical viewings occur. *****END SPOILERS**** Look, when new Star Wars (and also Star Trek) movies are released, I am tense when I see them the first time because I am anxiously waiting for them to start sucking. There is an unfortunate precedent for that for these two franchises. In the last year, I enjoyed both The Force Awakens and Star Trek Beyond way more on subsequent viewings than I did the first times. In the case of Rogue One, it stumbles out of the gate, then thrives during the Jedha sequences, and finally settles in as a B-/C+ grade Star Wars film. There is a chance I might like it even less when I see it again, but I might also find more to appreciate. I've seen the worst Star Wars and Star Trek films at least several dozen times each, and the best ones hundreds if not thousands of times (no exaggeration…. I wore out my VHS copies of Star Wars, Empire, Wrath of Khan, Search for Spock and The Voyage Home as a kid). I'll see Rogue One again. I even look forward to it. I just HOPE I find something more to like about it.