#none of them are bothans

[jenevawashere]

Does anyone who follows me get this joke? It’s ok if you don’t. I just thought I’d share this silly thing I made

[radiofreederry]

Star Wars: Tales From the Rambler is an actual play series in Fantasy Flight's Star Wars tabletop RPG system. With @gabajoofs as GM, the series stars myself as Corellian pilot Janica Halcyon, @lakemojave as Trandoshan bodyguard Bhuri'Hssyngigg, @chansaw as Bothan con artist Val Griv'ir, @brucebocchi as Corellian mechanic Ced Saverem, and @thottacelli as Twi'lek mercenary Caitvuna Conu!

THE STORY SO FAR: It has been years since the end of the Galactic Civil War. The New Republic struggles to rebuild the galaxy after decades of Imperial rule, locked in a cold war with the remnant Pentastar Alignment. All the while, in the dark corners of the galaxy, organized crime groups compete with each other to gain power in the galactic underworld after the collapse of the Hutt Cartel. Now, the crew of the transport ship the Rambler have been thrust into this gritty, cutthroat world...

LAST TIME: The crew of the Rambler successfully delivered humanitarian supplies to the New Confederacy of Independent Systems after exploring an abandoned ship in the Drift. They were then called to Coruscant by none other than Chief of State Leia Organa. Leia explained that shipments of tibanna gas from Bespin had been going missing, and charged the Rambler crew with traveling to Cloud City and figuring out what was going on. After making it to Bespin, the crew went to a nearby cantina to get some information. Janica and Bhuri picked up a lead from a visiting Mandalorian bounty hunter, who promised them information if they took down a target, a former Imperial, for her...

Part Two of Tales From the Rambler will air Saturday, April 20, at 2:30 PM PST!

[rosethornewrites]

T & G reading since 8/25

Finished

Teen:

Buried Deep, by NeverEnoughWangxian (🔒)

They proceed to play a somewhat staticky audio recording of the teacher in question. “—if it’d just been me in here I’d vote for the underwater tunnel option, but I’ve got kids in here who can’t swim. We have plenty of snacks and water to last us for a while, so please just focus on getting the rocks cleared away, okay? Safely, of course. Oh, and remind the ones out there that I still expect them to do their homework for tomorrow!” He laughs, bright and clear even through the crackle of the bad reception.

Lan Wangji drops the knife.

It clatters loudly on the cutting board, just barely missing his fingers. He hardly even notices. He’s too focused on that voice he knows so well, on the laugh that he still hears sometimes in his dreams even after all these years.

He exhales shakily. “Wei Ying…”

Wei Wuxian disappears without a trace, and then ten years later, shows up on the news during a cave-in...

Many Bothans Died To Bring Us This Information, by sami (part of 2 series)

"Is that wingdings?" he asks, staring at the screen.

"According to my computer that is goddamn Times New Roman," the geek says. "What it is is some nonsense. You gotta give me access to the real code."

The Top Gear Thing Behind The Scenes, by sami (23rd in a series)

"You know my Mercedes?" Jeremy says, eyes on the Zixuan.

"I'm familiar with it, yes."

"What's it for?"

Catharsis, by Starfell123 (6 chapters)

“Look, I know I’m probably foolish. I know that the chances of this not being a business-meeting are slim to none, but I need to know for sure. If Uncle Jiang wants to apologize, I’ll give him a chance to do so. If not, I want to tell him where to stick it in person.”

Thirteen years after being thrown out by the Jiangs, Jiang Fengmian contacts Wei Wuxian and asks to meet. Wei Wuxian goes in the hopes of reconciling with his adopted family, but the circumstances he finds himself in wont allow that to happen. What will he do when his former guardian tries to arrange a marriage for him that will benefit the Jiang-sect?

General:

Strawberry Wine on an April Evening, by stiltonbasket (52nd in a series)

A little less than a year after their wedding, Wei Ying leaves the Cloud Recesses to go night-hunting on his own.

This is not entirely uncommon. It is true that Wei Ying usually night-hunts with Lan Wangji, or with the juniors: but every now and then, he receives news of mild hauntings within a day’s ride from home and goes off alone to attend to them with Little Apple in tow.

On the fourth such occasion, Lan Wangji finds himself waiting late into the night for Wei Ying to return. Wei Ying sent a messenger talisman to the Jingshi earlier that evening, informing Lan Wangji that he had safely completed his night-hunt and started back for home—and though he ought to have reached the Cloud Recesses within the next two shichen, there has been no sign of him yet.

Drag Me Into Your Coffin (I Will Drag Your Sins Into the Light), by the5leggedCricket (🔒)

During the events in the GuanYin Temple, Jin GuangYao tries to drag Lan XiChen into death with him. When Lan XiChen next opens his eyes, he is faced with a—very alive—Jin GuangYao in Koi Tower, and a Jin ZiXun who is trying to force alcohol down his throat. Lan XiChen has a choice: smile and comply or take a stand once and for all—while still smiling, naturally.

AKA: Lan XiChen goes Off™

whatever it is you imagined (i’ll show you everything), by PrismaticAvocado (🔒)

“Why don’t I chop some wood and till the ground while you clean up a bit inside?” Wei Wuxian suggests.

“Mn,” Lan Wangji agrees. “Bring the wood as soon as you’re done. I bought ingredients in town; I’ll cook the fish soup that you like.”

“Aiya, you spoil me,” Wei Wuxian complains affectionately. “A man as pretty as you should really be the one getting spoiled, not me.”

“You are very pretty,” Lan Wangji says seriously. “And it is not spoiling to cook for my husband who will spend the day working on our farm.”

After decades in Cloud Recesses, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji start a new chapter together.

Unfinished

Teen:

so i cut the shackles and changed my name, by MichelleFeather

“A-Ying, should anything happen, should you be separated from us or find yourself in need of help, find Lan Qiren in Cloud Recesses. No matter what’s happened, he will keep you safe. He has sworn to me his home will always be open to you, no matter what.”

Following the advice of his late mother, Wei Ying runs away from Lotus Pier, knowing that if he were to stay, he would likely die at the hands of Madam Yu.

And, he finds, the Lan Clan is the place where he was always supposed to be.

Remember, by Amona

Jiang Cheng was 6 years old when his father got him three puppies for his birthday. His first instinct was to look around cautiously, ready to gather the pups into his arms in case they decided to go towards —

His mind drew blank here.

General:

Blooming You a Garden Inside Me, by xxxMiaHikarixxx

After Wei Ying's encounter with the Waterborne Abyss, he sees the Twin Jades of Lan taking a walk. Curiously, he follows them and hears Lan Zhan's distaste for him. The first flower petal lands on his palm. Does Wei Ying have the hanahaki curse? Or is it something even more complicated?

This story started as an one-shot for a challenge and has been an ongoing multi-pov monster that fixes everything through angst, romance and lore.

Reunion, by Yellowcrane

With a sigh, Wei Ying dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes. Why was he even here? He couldn’t talk to anyone he used to hang out with because they had all dropped him and moved on with their lives. Even his adoptive siblings hadn’t reached out to him in the ten years since he was kicked out of the Jiang house. He couldn’t blame them. In their eyes, Wei Ying had got caught up in the wrong crowd and made a decision that almost ruined his life. Why would anyone even talk to someone that they assumed had become a deadbeat anyway?

The sound of the auditorium doors opening drew Wei Ying out of his depressive spiral. The auditorium was already silent from the Wen’s arrival, but this silence tasted different. It had a new kind of buzz running through the undercurrents of the crowd. Curious as always, Wei Wuxian looked up, and immediately all he could think was, ah, I guess this is why I’m here.

-

Or, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji reminisce about their younger days and realize their competitive tendencies may have been a bit more romantically charged than they both thought.

[eorzeashan]

hi hello it's me again

i have seen a lot of your posts mention canine-like qualities of the echani, but i don't seem to be able to find anything like that in the official sources of information. i tried looking for a post where you establish the idea, but you know how tumblr search system works: it doesn't...

could you explain the concept or link to a post where you originally talked about it?

Certainly! As it turns out, I didn't have a post written up and simply rambled about it in the tags...which I thought I had explained the concept before, but oh well.

The only official lore of the Echani, besides that of the Thyrsian subspecies, is that they are similar biologically to humans, have body-reading abilities, and light/dark-hued appearances. Which, as you can tell, is not only sparse but probably the least alien thing you can think of when making an 'alien' species. Star Wars tends to place a lot of emphasis on humans with a different coat of paint. There is also the fact that they are rumored to have ties to Arkanian experimentation, which might suggest their similar appearance. There are no ties to canine biology in official lore.

My added headcanon is that they are descended from the Echa'olm, or the wolves of Eshan (Echani homeplanet), as canine species are incredibly movement-sensitive in a similar way to how their body-reading works. Their coloration would carry over as well, since dark brown/black and white are common colors amongst wolves.

Echa'olm are, sadly, a fanspecies, but one cobbled together from multiple concepts I've seen online--none of them canon. This idea mostly came about because of my desire to see such a vague species have more alien traits besides being non-human. While one could attribute the pale features of Echani to Arkanians, I thought it would be more interesting to have a biological explanation beyond other-species' meddling, and an example of a canine species that are more alien within rather than out (opposite, to say, Bothans).

Some of my posts made about the Echani:

Echani Eyes

Echani + Echa'olm Mutualism

[dingoat]

👿 - An Enemy for Ahsuka

I could almost say that one of Ahuska's greatest enemies throughout her various stories is her self esteem, haha, it's definitely one of the things she's battled most consistently against! But there are a few figures who have passed through her life that she would consider an enemy, one quite notably being a fellow Bothan (and one of the core reasons she despises Bothawui society in general). Hadrex Kor'var was the head of a small, not particularly powerful family who sought very much to climb the ladders of bothan society. He exemplified virtually every nasty part of bothan politics, shrewd, conniving, power hungry, and ready to smile sweetly at anyone who might be of use to him, then stab them in the back as soon as they weren't. However Hadrex was also obsessed with the dark side of the Force; with Sith, with occult practises, with rumours of witches and sorcerors, and he fancied himself a bit of a hobby alchemist. None of this scored him any points amongst the bothan councils, though it did give the Empire a mild interest in his business and a willingness to offer him some small support in his grabs for power, because having more links to the famed bothan spynet at their disposal was an appealing prospect.

What Hadrex did have working in his favour was an old family friendship with a considerably more powerful and exorbitantly wealthy family- one who he had the chance to connect his family to through marrige, if only he managed to sire a daughter to wed to their dutiful son. After the birth of his own seventh son, Hadrex finally decided that the situation was nothing that a little kidnapping and forged birth certificates couldn't solve, so long as he could locate the perfect candidate. An appropriately aged bothan girl, unattached to any family, unknown and unrecognisable to Bothawui.

Safe to say Ahuska did not approve of any of Hadrex's plans at all, and he absolutely misjudged the fact that even though no Bothawui family would miss her, it did not mean she would not be missed. He didn't live to see his plans come to fruition, and Ahuska does not care that she can't show her face on the planet any more. She's probably a little proud of the fact.

[doctordisaster]

Watched a half hour of the Asoka Starwars show and got through maybe... five scenes? Y'all know you can... leave stuff on the cutting room floor, right? Like I don't actually need to see every single fucking step of rosario dawson in a funny hat solving a lameass zelda puzzle. Space biker chick seemed to be moving approx as fast as Austin Powers in a steamroller for the unbearable length of the lead-in to her "cool biker move" on a totally deserted completely straight highway that did not pass anything interesting or appear to go anywhere

and SPEAKING of which, I hope when the strike ends streaming people remember that shows are supposed to happen in WORLDS that have PEOPLE and STUFF in them. It's not just the wasteland straightaway to nowhere either, it's this fucking holodeck thing they insist on using to film every goddamn show and it is getting fully unbearable. There's a scene that is supposed to take place in the exact conference room where Mon Mothma said "many bothans died to get us this doordash" years ago, but look: that RotJ scene must have had over a hundred people in it. There were cool aliens and colorful costumes and side chatter and humanity and jokes and story.

In this fucking show that room has two people in it. They are having a boringass conversation for what feels like a quarter hour and they don't even use the hologram table and nobody is fucking there! because the whole room only exists on a goddamn wall of screens that can't render actual characters for shit! and of course my office drone ass is totally distracted because I can't stop thinking: bitch you booked a whole-ass conference room for this??

tl;dr sorry fans of Asoka Starwars but this show is all filler no anything and halfway though the scene whose only point is a fugly muppet that acts and sounds exactly like a cat while having none of the grace that makes cats so charming I turned that shit off never to return

[purgetrooper77]

Star Wars: Trails of Red Episode 3: The Doctor

Rated: T

tw: none that I could think of

On the planet Monsolar there was a squad of Bith gunmen hunting down a Bothan prisoner. The Bothan was carrying a blaster he stole from an unknown black market. He turned around only to see five Bith chasing him. He fired behind him only to kill one Bith. The Bith fired back but missed the Bothan. Suddenly a female yellow Nautolan with red eyes jumped out of the bushes and fired at the Bith squad. Three Bith soldiers were killed by the attacking Nautolan. The male Bothan turned around and shot down the last two Bith. The Nautolan approached the Bothan. "For a second I thought I was a goner." Bothan said. "I'm always by your side, Norzan." she replied. Norzan and the female Nautolan are close friends who go on adventures together. Both are running low on food and money. "There will be more of them soon." Norzan said. "Luckily I know a place where food is stored. Follow me." The two aliens went east and found a large sack of food outside the forest. It was near a large boulder covered in moss. Norzan felt something was wrong. "It could be a trap." Norzan said. "You actually think someone will use food to trap us?" she asked. "Gideeva, I am serious." "Okay, let's test it." Gideeva said. Gideeva picked up a nearby rock and threw it at the food. Three IG Assassin droids jumped out of the shadows only to be shot down and killed by Norzan. "Okay, that was a trap." Gideeva said. Gideeva was always a reckless Nautolan. She is very lucky to have Norzan by her side. "This planet is full of dangerous people." Norzan said. "Tell me about it, we can't find good food here." Gideeva complained. "The best place we can go now are the cave systems." "As in, we are going underground on this planet?" "What other choice do we have?" Gideeva looked at the surface of the planet. "Okay, I'll go underground with you." she said. The two close friends ran to find a cave system and hid underground. A Zeta-class Heavy Cargo Shuttle landed on the ground. There was a squad of Alzoc TK Troopers searching for a local criminal. "This is TK-1123, we have entered Monsolar." the leader of the squadron said. Two TK Troopers looked to their right only to see a dead Bith gunman on the ground. "Well, it looks like a criminal did that alright." said the third oldest TK Trooper. "Question is, what kind of criminal?" the fourth oldest TK Trooper asked. A Nosaurian peaked his head out from a tree. The TK Troopers turned on their night vision only to encounter the Nosaurian. "There's one!" the second oldest trooper yelled. The Nosaurian drew out his blaster and shot down two TK Troopers. The lead TK Trooper fired his blaster but the Nosaurian dodged the attack. He climbed down a tree and shot down three more TK Troopers. There were three TK Troopers left. "Get back to the shuttle and alert the Empire!" ordered the lead TK Trooper. TK-1123 was shot in the head by the Nosaurian. The last two TK Troopers ran away only to be shot down and killed by the Nosaurian. The Nosaurian ran away as soon as the entire squad of TK Troopers were killed. Gideeva and Norzan made it to the deep parts of the cave system. The caves are so deep, no one could see the two. Norzan drew out a flashlight so that both he and Gideeva could see a small amount of light in the cave. "What are we going to do now?" Gideeva asked. "Honestly I have no idea. Everyone either wants us captured or dead." "But why, what did we even do?" "The Empire hates Jedi Sympathizers and Separatist lovers." "I thought the Jedi did nothing wrong." Gideeva said. "The Jedi did nothing wrong. They helped fight the Clone War. It was that Sith Lord that clouded the minds of Clone Troopers which led them to kill their own generals." Norzan confirmed. "I understand the Jedi Sympathizer but not the Separatist lovers. I don't love Separatists at all." "The Empire knows you have Separatist relatives." Norzan explained. "Yeah but that doesn't mean I love Separatists, it means I tolerated my relatives political beliefs." Gideeva said. There were loud blaster noises coming from above. "What was that?" she asked. "We are not alone." Norzan said. Norzan gave Gideeva his flashlight and ran to investigate the blaster noise. Norzan jumped forward only to see a male Talpiddan staring at a dead Bith gunman. The Talpiddan turned around and spotted Norzan. Norzan took two steps backwards. "Hello, Bothan." the Talpiddan greeted. "Are you part of a criminal syndicate?" "I was, until my friends ditched me on this backwater planet. I was here to steal food from the rich. Apparently someone has beaten me to it." Norzan sees a medical symbol on the Talpiddan's left shoulder. "Are you a medic?" Norzan asked. "Yes I am, a cardiologist to be more exact. I am Dr. Tel Gikon." "Pleasure to meet you, I'm Norzan. I have a Nautolan friend in the caves. We need your help." Norzan told him. "I do have a ship west of here. Currently it is guarded by Bith gunmen and IG Assassins." "My friend and I will fend them off." Norzan told him. "You sure?" Gikon asked. "I am sure." Norzan assured. Gideeva ran up and met up with Gikon and Norzan. "I heard you were fending off people?" she asked. "Yes, but first introductions. Dr. Gikon this is my friend Gideeva. Gideeva this is Dr. Gikon. He is stranded like us." "We'll get to your ship in time. What kind of ship is it?" Gideeva asked. "It is a modified Nemesis-class gunship. West of here." Gikon answered. "Let's go." Gideeva encouraged. The three aliens readied their blasters and moved west of Monsolar. A large portion of Bith gunmen looked at the three friends as they all fired their blasters. Norzan shot down five Bith as Gikon shot down four. Gideeva shot down three Bith. The lead gunman fired his blaster. Norzan dodged the blaster fire and shot down the leader as Gikon shot down three Bith. Gideeva shot down two Bith gunmen that were near the gunship. Gikon turned to the right and shot down the last four gunmen. They all entered the gunship. Gikon got into the cockpit, activated the gunship, and took off from Monsolar never to return. Inonok, Bezz, Borkal, Edojan, and Mokor were in the Ubdur System. In the Ubdur System there was a small space station that has been around since 32 BBY. The population inside the station was lower than five hundred people. They were all enjoying the new life as life around them is surrounded by walls of chatter. "Ahh, this is the life we wanted." Edojan said. "Indeed, I'm glad we pulled the heist." Mokor said. "What do you all want to do?" Inonok asked. "I know a place where we all could go. There is a beautiful beach planet in the Trilon Sector filled with great food and amazing houses. We can go there, eat food, spend time at the beach, all of that fun stuff." Bezz said. "Sounds like a great idea." Edojan said. "Let's go there now." Mokor said. The space station was attacked by U-Wing bounty hunter ships. The starships arrived unannounced which put the entire station in a state of panic. Inonok got into his armed freighter and took off from the space station. He tailgated and destroyed two bounty hunter ships. Three U-Wings fired at the freighter. The freighter took little damage from the U-Wings. Inonok turned his ship around and destroyed four more bounty hunter ships. The remaining two U-Wings turned around but were all destroyed by Inonok's starship. Inonok made his armed freighter return to the space station. He got out of his freighter to explain everything to his friends. "What happened?" Bezz asked. "Bounty hunters attacked the space station. I assume they attacked because word got out that we stole from the Raaf Mansion." Inonok said. "Then we need to split up." Mokor said. "No, we need to fight off every bounty hunter till their clients can't send them anymore." Bezz said. "Or we could find the person who is sending bounty hunters after us." Borkal suggested. "Exactly what I was thinking." Inonok said. "Where do we go to do that?" Bezz asked. "I might know a place." "Where?" Edojan asked. "Kimanan, it's in the Inner Rim." Inonok answered. "Kimanan, there is nothing there." Mokor said. "I have heard stories about criminal activities involving bounty hunters there. Besides, it is the Inner Rim we're talking about. Nothing screams criminal activity without the Inner Rim." Inonok said. "Well I don't see why we can't go there." Bezz said. "Me too, let's go to Kimanan." Borkal said. The five rich aliens went into the armed freighter and took off from the space station. They jumped to hyperspace to start their next mission in the Inner Rim Territories.

[lorewarden]

OC x Mother Koril: Part 7

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) As they set down, they find that three stocky, long-maned Bothans are already waiting for them, accompanied by several sentinel droids.

“Now,” Garr addresses Koril, Ki, and Tanner, “The security team keeps watch in the bay while we offload the cargo. That'll take a few hours, and then you're free to do what you like for the next four days. Just don't start any fights, don't steal anything, and don't gamble with the locals – they'll fleece you, trust me on that. And keep your comlinks on you at all times.”

Koril reaches under her cloak to make sure that the vibrodaggers are still where they ought to be. Satisfied, she grabs her energy staff from the sleeping quarters, and strides towards the similarly-armed droids on the platform. The Nikto twins have already taken their positions, and Captain Jhoram is talking to a Bothan clad in a woodland-green tunic and a thick gold chain that reaches down to her waist.

“Any trouble on the way?”, she overhears her rasp to the Captain.

“None”, the Toydarian bobs his head.

“You got lucky, then”, the Bothan's relief is palpable. “We've had reports of pirate attacks on the Reena Trade Route. A little too close to home for our comfort. I wondered if maybe you would run into them over at the intersection.” They move out of hearing range, and Koril takes up a post at the southeast platform bridge, energy staff in firm grip.

The sun is high in the sky, though the heat is bearable and the air mercifully dry. At one point, Rrik comes to offer her a canteen of water, which she gratefully accepts. He lingers, sizing her up, and then proceeds to chatter in his native Jawaese. Koril doesn't understand a word, but his monologue is accompanied by a lot ecstatic arm-waving and occasionally pointing in specific directions, and she assumes he's suggesting the best sightseeing tour. She nods along until her tiny companion seems satisfied, and he leaves her with a high-pitched “Ubanya!”

Koril has no intention of staying in the city, having had enough of the oppressive durasteel buildings and artificial lighting of Nar Shaddaa's underbelly. She wants to seize the opportunity to explore Bothawui's lush wilderness, breathe sharp mountain air, and lose herself in the greenery... or rather, find herself again. So when their cargo is offloaded and the crew dismissed, she asks Nita if they are permitted to leave the city.

“Of course, as long as you bring your comlink.”

“I was thinking...”, Koril starts uncertainly, “If you might like to join me?”

“Really, you wouldn't rather go alone?”, Nita asks as if sensing her dilemma. “Not that I'd mind coming along, I just figured, being cooped up on the ship with us and whatnot...”

The woman has some tact. She might not be bad company after all. “You're more familiar with this world. And I would not object to a hunting partner”, Koril says more firmly.

“There is such a thing as rations, you know, we don't have to hunt,” Nita laughs.

“I am not eating that swill,” Koril lips twitch in disgust, then extend into a feral grin. “It will be fun. Come on, city girl.”

***

With some basic camping gear stashed in the back of their speeder bike – the Zabrak been adamant that they pack only the basics – Nita is accelerating through the mostly-barren northern city outskirts. She feels Koril's fingers digging into her abdomen, the older woman holding on for dear life. An adrenaline junkie she was clearly not. At least, not this kind.

As the terrain changes, however, so does the mood. Nita senses Koril's growing excitement while they skirt a thick treeline and feels her bobbing her head from one side to the other as if not wanting to miss a single detail of their surroundings.

“LOOK, BUT DON'T SHIFT YOUR WEIGHT TOO MUCH”, Nita yells.

“I'M LOOKING-WHAT?”

“I SAID”, she struggles against the wind, “DON'T SHIFT YOUR WEIGHT.”

Two taps on the shoulder in response. She understood.

It is late afternoon by the time they reach an Acthorn forest that surrounds the foot of the mountains. Getting any closer would require that they leave the speeder, which neither is overly keen on doing just yet, so the pair agree to set up camp on the woods' outskirts. They shuffle about setting up a tent, and soon fall into a steady rhythm whilst casually chatting about the local wildlife. Nita explains that there are no large predators in this area – they were only a few hours away from Drev'starn, after all – and that the local herbivores were accustomed to the presence of people and would not be an easy catch. This does not appear to phase Koril. Nita notices that the Zabrak is more confident here, more at ease, and she is glad of it. A part of her looks forward to seeing her in action in tomorrow's hunt.

“City girl”, Koril called her earlier. When they go to gather firewood – she had, naturally, insisted that they not bring a heater – Nita decides to play it up for comedic effect. She trudges through the tall grass with an exaggerated clumsiness, which earns her both an eye roll and a chuckle from her companion.

“Do you never take anything seriously? Besides history, that is”, the older woman snorts.

“I take everything seriously. How I act is a different matter”, Nita responds playully.

“Why, though?”, Koril doesn't relent.

“Because,” Nita ponders the answer for a moment before opting for the truth, “It's easier that way. Life is just... lighter. It prevents me from overthinking, and if it amuses the people around me, all the better.” She raises her head to meet Koril's eyes. “Does it irritate you?”

“Somewhat. Mainly because it comes across as... I don't know, insincere? That's not precisely the right word”, the Zabrak frowns.

Nita chuckles internally, and it is genuine. “I'm not pleasant company when I get philosophical, or when I open up too much. You would not enjoy hearing about my life, I assure you.”

“You don't have to be pleasant all the time. If I ask a question you would rather not answer, say so instead of doing that jokingly evasive poodoo thing that you do,” Koril is getting slightly flustered, but keeps her voice even when she continues. “I am not looking for your autobiography. As Jhoram said, everyone has a past – loyalty is what matters. I'm certainly no blank slate, either. Just be real,” she concludes, her gaze searing.

Nita sighs, and after a pregnant pause, she simply says “That I can do.”

She would try. End note: Their stay on Bothawui was originally meant to be one chapter, but I decided to divide it into two. Our girls are finally spending some quality time together and I don't want to rush through it. NEXT CHAPTER

[untilenglandisnomore]

PadMay 2021 – Day 2: How should Padmé be remembered?

(rocks up a week late with a chai latte) Played fast and loose with the word “should” here and ended up thinking a lot about Imperial propaganda.

Summary: Imperial Supreme Commander Darth Vader is sent to investigate accusations of a university lecturer spreading treasonous Rebel propaganda. A class on the life and work of Naboo’s former Queen Amidala brings back painful memories.

As far as punishments go, it would appear on the face of it that Darth Vader had lucked out. Being sent to assist the ISB might be painfully boring but at least it wasn’t painful. It seemed almost incongruous to the Emperor’s rage at his apprentice, once again, letting the Rebels slip through his fingers.

Vader knew better. Pain, he was used to. Pain, he could tolerate. Wasting his skills and time on pointless political suppression, investigating academics for spreading Rebel lies irked him immensely. The Emperor’s way of reminding him that he was replaceable, disposable.

And to rub salt in his wounds, he was commanded to investigate the faculty at the University of Theed. To be mere clicks away from his beloved’s final resting place was a pointed twist of the knife.

The quicker he got it over with, the quicker he could get back to hunting down the Rebels, so the Sith pushed all thoughts of her out of his mind.

Or at least, that was his intention. Begrudgingly, he followed the ISB Agent into the lecture hall. The Agent was to lead the interrogation, Vader was there to provide leverage.

The class had already started. Fifty pairs of eyes turned on them and the lecturer stopped abruptly.

“Can I help you?” she asked, a strong voice despite the fear spiking through her blood at the sight of Vader.

The Agent gave her shark-tooth smile. “Agent Elliot, ISB. We’ll just be sitting in your lecture today. Making sure everything is up the standards of our great Emperor.”

The way he cocked his head towards Vader made it clear it was not a request.

The lecturer stiffened. “What does education have to do with security?” she asked.

“Sedition,” said the Agent, “is a crime.”

She gave them a flat look. “Fine. Take a seat. Be sure to let us know when the truth runs up against the Emperor’s delicate sensibilities,” she snarked.

Vader felt a brief bit of surprise at her insolence and then almost amused. He really did not like Agent Elliot. There was something about the steel in her eye that made him wonder if all the Naboo were just like that.

They stood at the back of the hall, Elliot pointedly taking notes on his datapad, and Vader glowering, and the lecturer got back to her class.

“Okay hopefully you’ve all read chapters five, nine and ten on the Invasion of Naboo and the Clone Wars.”

There was some half-hearted murmuring across the room. The lecturer rolled her eyes.

“Come on guys. Fine. Does anyone in this room not know who Queen Amidala was?”

There was a smattering of laughter and snorts of disbelief.

Darth Vader didn’t hear the lecturer’s reply because what was left of his body went numb and a distant ringing filled up his ears. He stood frozen as the lecturer set up a holoprojector and suddenly it was her. Her face, lit up and larger than life before his eyes. Her voice breaking through the ringing in his ears and bouncing around his skull.

“Like so many of the people that we tell ourselves we're here to serve, Teckla lives in a district that rarely has electricity and running water as a result of the war.”

Vader could feel his heart stop in his chest. His mind went completely blank. He watched, as if from a very far distance, as the holoprojector floated up off the desk, crumpled up like a piece of flimsi, and then shattered into dust.

Stillness fell over the room as all the students and the lecturer stared at the spot where the holoprojector had sat seconds prior.

The lecturer seemed to recover first, giving herself a little shake and pointedly not looking at Vader.

“Well,” she said, “I’ve got printed copies of this speech on flimsi,” she handed out sheets for students to pass around while they started to whisper to each other, furtive glances in Vader’s direction.“So everyone take a couple of minutes to read the speech and take some notes.”

The students followed their instructions as the lecturer awkwardly scooped up the remains of her holoprojector and deposited them into a bin.

“Okay,” she said at last, “what does this speech tell us about the Clone Wars?”

A handful of students raised their hands, the lecturer pointed to a bothan girl, one of the few non-humans in the class.

“The war was causing lots of suffering and the Senate weren’t doing a good job stopping it. This is why the Emperor had to take over, to ensure peace.”

The lecturer glanced over at where Agent Elliot was standing and didn’t try to hide the roll of her eyes.

“I suppose it could be interpreted that way. Senator Amidala spoke out against corruption in the Senate many times.”

“She didn’t support the war,” said another student, a human boy, “doesn’t that make her a Separatist?”

“And she signed the bill asking the Emperor to hand power back to the Senate. Isn’t that treason?” added his friend.

Another disdainful eye roll in the ISB Agent’s direction as the lecturer trotted out the party line through gritted teeth.

“Senator Amidala was a close, personal friend of the Emperor. The Emperor supports democracy and free speech, but order had to be restored after the war. Senator Amidala was a great leader and surely would have supported the Empire had she lived long enough to see the excellent things it has achieved.”

“Professor?” another student put up her hand. “I was going to do my paper on Senator Amidala and the days around the rise of the Empire but there’s hardly any sources? Should I pick another topic? Do you know how she died?”

Genuine curiosity broke through the lecturer’s stony façade but as she opened her mouth to answer, she yelped and jumped back as her entire desk broke in half.

She stared at the desk. She stared at the rows of students gaping in shock. She stared at Vader.

Her eyes narrowed minutely at the Sith and then, apparently throwing all caution and good sense to the wind, she continued her answer.

“It’s a matter of some… contention,” she started slowly. “Senator Amidala was last seen at her home on Coruscant several hours after the formation of the Empire. She took her personal ship, and left Coruscant. There’s no further sources on where she was or what happened to her.”

The lecture hall felt very cold all of a sudden. Despite the ominous feeling in her gut, the lecturer continued.

“Official Imperial sources reported her death as an act of terrorism by a Jedi. They claim she died a martyr for the Empire.”

“And you don’t think that’s true?” asked a student. It was a fair question. The disbelief was clear in her tone.

The lecturer glanced over again to Vader and the Agent. She shrugged.

“Without any evidence to the contrary, it might as well be true. I think her actions as Queen and as Senator tell us exactly what Amidala would have thought of the Empire.” She ignored the twitch of the Agent’s brow at her tone, and pointed to a student. “Yes, Ilya.”

The class continued, moving on to discuss the boring, political, parts of the Clone Wars which Vader, for one, had no desire to relive.

None of it was new to him anyway, so he allowed himself to zone out the class, gingerly picking through the whirlwind of his thoughts.

Her. Somehow of all the days, of all the classes, they were discussing her.

He briefly mused on whether it was the Force, or his own cursed bad luck. Or, more cynically, if this was engineered by his Master, as part of his punishment.

They remembered her, quoted her speeches and still respected her as a leader, as Queen and as Senator. And yet they knew nothing about her.

They didn’t know that her laughter was musical when she was happy, and a graceless snigger when he made a particularly lewd joke. They didn’t know how the air in a room seemed to change when she walked into it, like all the atoms had ceased moving. Or how it changed again, when she spoke, always uncompromising and direct, like static electricity crackled between her sentences. They didn’t know all the good she could have done. Would have done.

He had robbed the galaxy of her blinding, beautiful presence. She was the only good thing left and he killed her and it was all his fault.

A blaring alarm shook him out of his reverie as students started to pack up their bags and awkwardly file out the door past him, shooting him apprehensive glances as they went.

The girl from before, who had asked… who had asked about that, was loitering behind to approach her teacher.

“Um,” she started, “so what should I do my paper on? So many of the books in the library have been taken out by the new censorship laws, it’s so hard to find good sources.”

The lecturer flashed her student a smile. “It just so happens that the Senator Amidala’s father used to work at this university, he’s an old friend and he dropped off some of the Senator’s old memoirs.”

She went to her bag and pulled out a datapad. “It’s all been copied to the holonet, and,” she rolled her eyes in Vader’s direction, once again demonstrating a remarkable lack of fear for her life, “edited to remove anything that could be interpreted as anti-Imperial. There’s lots of good anecdotes from her time as Senator, and a fair few political essays.”

They started to talk further about the student’s paper but Vader wasn’t listening, his legs moving before he was fully conscious of it, coming to a stop in front of the lecturer and snatching the datapad from her hand. She gave him an unimpressed glare and he was suddenly overcome with a need to explain himself.

“The ISB will need to review this,” he said stiffly, “for evidence.” He abruptly turned on his heel and walked out the room, nearly running over Agent Elliot in the corridor.

“Other than her having an attitude problem, there’s not much to go on here, she’s not distributing illegal material as far as we can see,” said the Agent. “What’s that?” He asked, pointing to the datapad in Vader’s hand.

“Nothing that concerns you,” replied Vader, and stalked away in a flurry of black fabric and disdain.

It wasn’t until he was back in his chambers aboard the Executor that he dared take out the datapad again, too often surrounded by nosy Imperial officials and gossipy stormtroopers.

He flicked it to a random page and at the first line he read, let out a snort of amusement, the sound odd and distorted through his vocoder.

“In a democracy, citizens have a duty to stand up against tyranny. In order to benefit from the rights and freedoms that democracy brings, citizens have an obligation to be vigilant against the rise of authoritarianism.”

This, thought Vader, was definitely not Imperial approved material. Distantly, he wondered if he should report it, this incendiary material was on the holonet, anyone could read it.

People would know what she thought. More would remember her as a traitor.

He preferred to imagine that he could have convinced her, that she would have come to see that the Empire was necessary. But. He quietly knew the truth. She was stalwart in her beliefs and a hell of a lot more stubborn than he was.

She would have been proud to be labelled a traitor by this Empire. She would hate to be remembered as a martyr for it.

She always did have the last word, Vader thought dryly, resolving to conveniently forget about the memoirs being on the holonet, and settled onto a chair to read every word she had written.

[voidendron]

I've been thinking about the future of my Alliance again

I think I'm gonna have it rediscovered a little differently than I'd originally planned

Instead of a lost merchant ship just happening to stumble upon it

Atten and Araa sent up a series of clues. It fits their Need To Be Dramatic personalities they got from their mother, but it also leaves the galaxy at large slowly able to find answers to their questions. Names long forgotten finally have faces to them, and the holos even answer some basic questions

The "clues" are a series of holos, set up similarly to holocrons but obviously lacking the Force aspect. These holos are in a hibernation sort of state, and when the first one is triggered it scans datawaves. If it finds no war-like activities in its system for the last decade, then it activates

The first holo? Found at the Barsen'thor's - Synnda's - tomb. Synnda himself gives the clue in his pre-recorded message, and he gives the history of the Jedi of his time, what his title means

Synnda's clues lead to the dilapidated base that's rumored to have been Alliance HQ thousands of years ago, where Qizulth's holo can be found hidden in the wall of the research center. He talks about Sith philosophy, and the importance of preserving history

His clue leads into the Odessen wilderness, where Varrich's holo lay built into his headstone - a false headstone, as no body is found in the ground beneath, for he made it to see the Alliance's new home. He talks about how war can destroy civilizations, and break even the strongest of men. His holo is the first good look at why the Alliance left the known galaxy

The clues go on, from Lana's on Ziost, to Theron's in a long-forgotten SIS compound in Coruscant's undercity, and then...

The clues stop.

They would have led to Xaerez's holo next, but... well. His holo had been hidden on his estate.

His Alderaanian estate.

His holo was lost with the planet decades before

The galaxy at large laments that they'll never find the last of the clues, as the next holo can't activate until the one before it has. And that's assuming the next can even be found without Xaerez's clue

And then.... on an open channel, nearly a decade after the last known holo was found, broadcasts the next clue

The estate had been robbed almost a century before Alderaan's destruction. The holo ended up in a private collection, and the collector it ended up with accidentally activated it without knowing what it would do

Xaerez's is short and simple, warning others to stay away from the life of a spy, he doesn't answer anything like the holos before him. As soon as he gives his clue, his holo turns off, and unlike the others it won't turn back on. He doesn't even intruduce himself

His clue leads to Rishi, to a long-abandoned beachside home. With the remains of an ancient cybernetic Rancor, is the final holo

Commander Terrin's. The first Alliance Commander. Hers is more robotic, clearly not a recording and instead put together with a computer

Her message is a cold threat to anyone who would harm the new Alliance. And with it, a phrase... and coordinates

Coordinates that lead deep into uncharted space

The race is on

Spacers, merchants, adventurers - many people try to find the planet.

Few survive

None come back with the news everyone waits for

Two decades pass since the final holo's discovery

And a group of spacers, with a Force-sensitive pilot being the only way they survive the dangerous and unknown space, find the new world. Odessa

They're met with distrust, until....

"We were sent," says the Bothan. His fur is ruffled with unease. "By 'Commander Terrin.'"

The leader - Consul Tel'arra, a Twi'lek hybrid - gestures for her people to lower their weapons. The silence between the spacers, and lost civilization now re-found, hangs heavy in the air

The pilot, Mirialan, steps up to the Bothan's side. "We....stand for you," he says, echoing the holo word-for-word. "The galaxy beyond welcomes you home."

Silence

Studious stares

Then,

"...Then we stand with you."

[gondowan]

Over Your Shoulder

Pairing: Paz Viszla x f!Reader

You're used to working for others. As a freelance armstech, you flit from contract to contract, never staying too long in one place. Although the freelancer life is fun, you kind of wish you could trade it all for a little bit of stability. As the maker would have it, that stability shows up in the form of one (1) Paz Viszla.

Tags/Warnings: nothing right now, but future loving degradation, Good Communication Is My Kink, daddy kink, and other sexy consensual shenangians. Reader has slight self esteem issues.

Notes: I haven’t written for fun in forever, but new year new me! If you know me in real life never bring this up because I will combust lol. I was going to fire off a brief smutty one-shot pwp thing but of course I couldn’t resist adding ~ b a c k s t o r y ~ so here you go. Subsequent updates will probably just be pwp.

Chapter 1: All The Grass is Greener Everywhere You Look

Nervousness, you assumed, was a regular feeling for anyone who was newly married. Doubly so for the new spouse of a Mandalorian. Unlike the rest of the galaxy where marriage vows were somewhat loose, Mandalorians took their vows very seriously. Forever, generally meant, forever.

Your relationship with Paz Viszla was strange in and of itself. As a freelance armstech, you hopped from planet to planet offering your repair services, never staying in any one place for too long. While on Bothawui, you had let slip to a client that you were headed to Nevarro next. Greef Karga, the head of the Guild, had put you on a retainer for services to guild members for a few cycles. The pay was good, and he had promised you a steady supply of commissions from the local bounty hunters who frequented Nevarro in need of new weapons and repairs on top of the already nice stipend.

The Bothan, a short humanoid by the name of Eesk, perked up when you mentioned Nevarro, and the next day he came over as you were on your way to the spaceport.

“Can I ask a favor? Do you mind making a delivery for me while on Nevarro?” he asked, pulling a datapad out from his robes.

You looked up, eyes narrowing. Bothans were famous for their information network, and were instrumental to the destruction of the first Death Star, but still, you were understandably nervous. “ Eesk, I’m not interested in looking for trouble. I don’t need the New Republic or any Imp remnant breathing down my neck for delivering that for you,” you said.

Eesk laughed, “Relax, I promise you this isn’t serious. Just deliver this to a Mandalorian on Nevarro. It’s nothing classified, I’m just returning a favor for a friend,”. He slid over a stack of credits. “I’d take it to him myself, but unfortunately I’m held up on New Republic business”.

You reached over and tucked the datapad into your bag along with the credits, “Fine, but you owe me”.

“Next time you’re here, drinks on me.” he said as he walked away.

It was only until you had boarded the transport ship that you realized Eesk had never actually told you were to meet this Mandalorian. ‘Oh well,’ you thought, ‘he’s not getting these credits back’. You leaned your head against the wall of the ship, tired from hauling all of your luggage to the spaceport, and fell asleep.

You were three standard weeks into your contract with Greef Karga and the Guild, and still no Mandalorian had shown up to collect the datapad. It was nice to be somewhat settled in one place for longer than a week, and you had enjoyed the steady stream of work. You had also learned from Karga that the Mandalorian covert scattered from Nevarro, and he hadn’t seen one in a while. For all of their information trafficking and spy network, perhaps Eesk had gotten it wrong for once, and you didn’t really care to ask. After all, it would be nigh impossible to miss a person wearing head to toe armor, especially on Nevarro.

One morning, as you had returned from your walk to the lava plains, you discovered the door to your apartment was unlocked. Strange. Not a good sign. None of your alarms were triggered either. Carefully, you pulled your blaster out its holster before quietly pushing the door open.

“There you are. Been looking all over for you.”

A large man, clad in blue armor and covered in more weapons per square inch that any other being you had ever seen, sat next to your workstation. Despite the blaster pointed at him, he seemed unperturbed, posture open and relaxed.

“What do you want?” you asked, blaster raised, "You picked the wrong house to rob,". You had fended off your fair share of robberies, the expensive equipment you lugged around as an armstech was attractive to petty thieves, and not cheap.

“The datapad.” he said.

“I take it you’re the Mandalorian that Eesk spoke about.”

“Correct,”.

You rummage through your toolkit and dust off the datapad. “Here you go Mr. Mandalorian, although I suggest next time you knock during business hours. Breaking and entering is reserved for long term partners, and you haven’t even bought me a drink yet”. You wince a little inwardly, maybe this dry spell was affecting you more than you thought.

You tap the edge of the datapad on the Mandalorian’s chest plate. “Oh and you might want to get the blaster strapped to your thigh checked, those scorch marks are usually a bad sign,”.

The blue hunk of armor stood up and took the datapad from you. “Thank you for this,” he rumbled before heading out the door.

“Ah, so you do have manners,” you teased before moving to shut the door.

You can’t see the expression on his face, but you hear the huff of a laugh through his modulator accompanied with a shake of his shoulders.

You were pretty sure you’d never see him again.

Wrong.

The next day right as you returned from dropping off a box of repaired pistols, there he was again, blue armor and blank expressionless helmet, sitting in the same spot next to your workstation.

“Can you fix it?” he asked.

You gaped at him for a second, before remembering the comment you made yesterday. “I can take a look,”. You cross over to your workstation, turning on the light and the magnifying glass and grabbing your toolkit. It was an easy but time-consuming fix, and you quickly busied yourself with disassembling the rifle.

“You’re not from Nevarro,”. A question, posed as a statement.

You didn’t look up, “Nope, I’m just passing through.” Hmm, that power cell did not look too good.

“Where is home for you?”

“Nowhere,” you said matter-of-factly as you tinkered away, “Like most people, the Clone Wars and the Empire destroyed what little of a childhood I had. Got taken in by a kind armstech who taught me the trade, and now I hop from planet to planet making a living. What about you? I heard about what happened to the Mandalorians on this planet,”.

“Also nowhere,” the man grunted, and he remained quiet. You finished your work, and handed him the blaster, butt end first.

“You owe me two drinks now, breaking into my place like that.”

He took the blaster from you, two gloved finger tips drawing a line from the middle of your forearm down your wrist. An unnecessary movement, he could’ve just taken the blaster. You gulped. He put the gun back in its holster and leaned forward.

“I might, if you ask nicely. I saw the way you sized me up the first time,”.

You swallowed, mouth going dry. “It’s uh, part of my line of work. Gotta make sure everyone’s packing-- I mean, everyone’s weapons are in tip top shape.” Your stupid lizard brain, at it again.

He cocked his head to the side, “I’m sure it is,” the mirth evident in his tone.

Every evening thereafter, the blue Mandalorian showed up at your doorstep, a new weapon in hand for you to look at. It was nice, you had to admit to yourself. A consistency in your otherwise inconsistent life, and you grew to enjoy his company. What you couldn’t handle however, was the escalating tension between the two of you. He would occasionally stand behind you, his big, all-encompassing frame brushing up against your back, and lean over you to ask about this or that. The first time you thought it was an accident, but then he followed up with an oh-so-casual touch of your wrist, and you were pretty sure it was on purpose, but you also couldn’t tell if that was wishful thinking on your part. Occasionally the two of you would strike up a conversation, but for the most part he sat in a comfortable silence while you worked. When he came over the fourth night, large gattling gun in tow, you decided it was high time to try to get to know him better.

“Uh...would you like to stay for dinner?”, eyes looking down on the (ancient) gattling gun, trying to keep your voice light.

He paused and shook his head “I can’t,”.

Oh, an immediate shut down. Great. Well it was worth a shot.

“Not for the reason you think. I can’t remove my helmet in the presence of others, that’s part of the creed,”.

That made a lot of sense. You hadn’t come across many Mandalorians in your travels, but all of them were rather cagey about their armor and helmet. You had assumed it was due to the value of beskar, but this was the first time you had heard about this creed.

You looked up at him. “Don’t you ever get lonely?” you blurted out, the words forming on your tongue before your brain could shut you down. “Nevermind-- I’m sorry I-”

He interjected, “Sometimes. There are some exceptions though,”.

You leaned forward. “Such as?”.

A pause. He stepped forward, tipping your chin up with a finger.

“ Would you care to find out?”

Ch 2 here

[hiscyarika]

Kir’manir: Chapter One

Beroya

       n. bounty hunter

Word Count: 2.6k

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Reader

Summary: The Mandalorian finds himself face to face with another bounty hunter looking for the child. 

Warning(s): Violence, Injury

A/N: This is the first part to what will be at least a six-chapter series! Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged for future updates! (Also, the gif is not mine!)

Masterlist

Tag Lists

Gif made specially for me by @theforceofdarkandlight​ ❤️

You aren’t sure why the tracking fob had shut off only to reactivate just a couple of days later. You’re also not sure why it had taken you to the desolate wasteland that is Arvala-7 and now has you landing on some equally deserted swamp planet called Sorgan. You’ve never known Greef Karga’s fobs to malfunction, so your best guess is that somehow the fifty-year-old bounty had managed to escape from their captor.

You scoff as you consider the idea. It was probably some amateur with no idea what he was doing.

You hover your ship over a clearing, slowly lowering it to the ground. Successfully landed, you stand from the pilot’s seat and climb down to the hull, gathering the weapons and supplies you think you’ll need for this chase. Karga hadn’t given you much to go off of when describing the bounty. No one is even sure what species it is. So, you opt to take one of your heavier rifles, thinking that it might come in handy in case this target proves to be a challenge even for you.

You step out of your ship and take in your surrounding environment. There’s plenty of tall trees where the clearing ends, shielding you from any prying eyes up above. Though really you don’t think that you’re going to have any problems with the locals. From what you understand about this planet, it’s made up of mostly farmers who are sparsely populated anyway.

Each step is careful and calculated as you make your way through the woods, following the tracking fob as it brings you closer and closer to the target. You step over rocks and fallen branches. Keep your boots from getting tangled in moss and scattered tree roots. There’s no path through the lush green overgrowth that you can find, but you suppose it’s better to stay where you won’t draw attention to yourself. You have no idea how the locals will take to an outsider creeping through the woods at the break of dawn, especially one as heavily armed as you.

By the time the sun has reached its zenith, you’ve found the first signs of life. Trails have been worn into the ground from being traced by hundreds of footsteps. Stumps remain from trees cut down, and soon you find yourself able to hear children running around as they play. Keeping yourself hidden, you stick to the edge of the treeline, just observing the villagers as they go about their day. The tracking fob is beeping wildly in a compartment on your belt, though thankfully you’re the only one able to hear it. You think to yourself that they should lend a little better to stealth operations. Maybe you’ll make the suggestion to Karga when you get back to Nevarro to drop off the bounty.

You let out a soft breath as you look out among the villagers, trying to figure out which one of them is the bounty. But all you see are natives, dressed in dark clothes and carrying around baskets full of bright blue creatures that you assume are their main source of food. None of them look like they’ve stepped far from the village, much less made it all the way to Arvala-7 and back.

And then you see it.

Amongst the children is a little green creature. You take out your binocs, using them to get a closer look. It comes into better focus, and you swear that you have never seen anything like it before in your life. Its pointed ears extend as far as the creature is tall, and it’s not even tall enough to reach the knees of the children. By the beeping of the tracking fob, you know this is your target, and it makes you wonder how such a tiny thing managed to escape the Guild.

You exchange your binocs for your rifle, carefully planning your shot so that none of the kids will be caught in the crossfire. As the crosshairs settle on the creature, it turns around, revealing huge, innocent dark eyes that shine up at his young companions. It’s a child. A fifty-year-old child. How could Greef Karga send the entire Guild after a child? And with orders to kill it on sight, no less.

Your mind is going faster than a Tatooine pod race. You may be a bounty hunter but you still have morals. You still have a conscience. You know that there is no way that you can kill this child and deliver its little body to Karga. There’s no way you could live with yourself after that.

Your rifle falls from its position, and you try to think of what you’re going to do now. If you’d managed to find the target, you know that other hunters will show up soon, and you’ve been a bounty hunter long enough to see that the others lack your moral standards.

Before you can even begin to formulate a plan, there’s a blaster at your back.

Instinct drives you and you whip around, dropping the rifle and drawing your own blaster in one fluid movement. You find yourself face to face with the Mandalorian.

There’s no one in the Guild that hasn’t heard of this man, though this is the first you have ever seen him in person. You think to yourself that he’s probably come for the bounty as well. It doesn’t surprise you that he’s been able to track the little creature to this largely unknown planet. He’s the best hunter in the Guild and Greef Karga makes sure that everyone knows it.

“Don’t,” you say, looking into the horizontal part of his visor. “It’s a child. Karga has us hunting a child.” Your voice is strong and firm as you try to reason with the beskar-clad warrior. You’re fully prepared to shoot him if he makes a false move. You don’t care who he is or what reputation precedes him. You won’t stand for the murder of an innocent kid.

The Mandalorian stares at you for a moment, silent. Then, his helmet tilts slightly to the left, like you’ve confused him. He lowers his blaster then, returning it to the holster at his side. Now you’re confused. You didn’t think it would be that easy to get him to stand down. Your grip on your blaster tightens, thinking that maybe this is all just a clever trick: he’ll get you to let your guard down, then incapacitate you and take out the kid. But you’re no amateur. You aren’t so easily fooled.

“I won’t hurt him. I...I took him from the Imps,” he finally says.

Now you’re really perplexed. This is the Mandalorian you’re talking to. Rescuing a bounty? That breaks every last tenet of the Guild Code. Surely Greef Karga’s favorite would never do such a thing.

You shake your head, pointing your blaster a little more forcefully at him. “Right, because I’m supposed to believe that?,” you scoff.

He’s not at all shaken by the fact that you could shoot him before he has the chance to draw his weapon again. “I brought him in from Arvala-7, then took him back when I realized what they wanted with him. There was a shootout. The entire Guild is looking for us now,” he explains.

You’re still not convinced. Surely if the entire Guild were after the Mandalorian, you would have known about it. But when you think about the tracking fob, and the lapse in its functioning, his story makes sense. He’d even mentioned Arvala-7, the planet you had been originally tracking the target to. And there’s something about the way he stands, about the way he watches you, that makes you rethink your judgement of him.

You let out a sigh, your body still tense as you look at him. Finally, you decide to lower your blaster, convinced that the Mandalorian is being truthful.

“You need to get him out of here. If I tracked him here, then others will come. It’s only a matter of time,” you tell him. You expect that there are already groups of other hunters headed for Sorgan now.

The Mandalorian gives you a curt nod. A silence falls between the two of you, disturbed only by the incessant noise coming from the tracking fob.

You take it out of the pouch on your belt, throw it on the ground, and crush it under the heel of your boot.

“Thank you,” he says, and with that you part ways. Before you head back to your ship, you take one last look at the little green creature. As you sling your rifle back over your shoulder, you think to yourself that you trust the Mandalorian to keep him safe.

---

When you cross the treeline into the clearing again, the first thing you see is the other ship landed not far from your own. It’s a light freighter, one that you happen to recognize as belonging to Daask, a trandoshan widely known for being ruthless and cunning. He’s the kind of bounty hunter that you’d rather not run into on the job, especially not this job.

You watch the loading ramp come down on the other hunter’s ship, revealing the trandoshan and his crew: a bothan and a twi’lek that you don’t recognize. Daask spots you immediately and grins wickedly, his forked tongue flicking out of his mouth.

He says something to the other two, but you’re too far away to hear it. You begin to close the distance, knowing that you’re not leaving Sorgan without some form of interaction. You just hope that the Mandalorian has the good sense to leave the swamp planet as soon as possible.

You take in a slow, measured breath, your eyes locked with Daask’s. Your gaze of stone never falters. You’re out in the open. You can’t afford to make an offensive move yet. But as soon as you’re close to your own ship, you call out to the band of hunters.

“The bounty is gone. They escaped and left the planet before I could get to them,” you say. The lie is weak, and you don’t expect it to work, but all you need now is to buy time.

The trandoshan narrows his eyes, and then pulls his own tracking fob from his pocket. He holds it up for you to see. The red light is blinking, indicating that the target is much closer than you were telling them. “She’s with the Mandalorian,” he hisses.

All three draw their weapons. You do the same. As they open fire, you press yourself against the side of your ship, an angle that keeps them from being able to hit you from their current position. But they begin to move towards you. You move every few seconds, firing back at the other bounty hunters. One shot grazes your arm, but in the heat of the firefight you don’t even flinch. Instead, you take out the twi’lek, your bolt hitting him square in the chest. He falls to the grass with a strained outcry.

The bothan goes down next, and rather than pursuing you on his own, Daask retreats back to his ship, abandoning his crew, leaving them to die. You step away from your ship, watching as the freighter takes to the sky in record time. You think that you’ve managed to stave off the trandoshan for now, but when he hovers above you and aims the ship’s guns down at you, you realize that you’re terribly mistaken.

Your heart flies into your throat and you try to run, try to make it back to the cover of the trees before he can fire, but your legs can’t carry you fast enough. You hear the blast, feel the heat of the explosion that follows, but before you can even comprehend what’s happening, the shockwave sends you flying across the clearing.

Everything goes black.

---

When you open your eyes, there’s someone standing over you. Their form blocks the sun from your eyes, leaving you staring up at a blurry silhouette. Your ears are ringing painfully, and for a moment you think that Daask has come back to finish the job after realizing that you weren’t dead. You try to bring yourself to move, but find yourself paralyzed.

The form begins to move, crouches closer to your level. You close your eyes, bracing yourself for what you believe will be your untimely death. And all for the sake of the strange child that you will never see again. It was laughable really, a bounty hunter dying to save the life of her target. You’ll be infamous with the Guild for years and years to come. Daask will make sure of it. He’ll boast of your death as if he brought down the entire Galactic Empire on his own.

But the hand that wraps around your shoulders does not end with claws ready to tear you apart. No. It’s gentle, gloved in leather. Human.

The Mandalorian.

You open your eyes again. Your vision begins to clear and the ringing in your ears dies down. The outline of his helmet and the armor he wears comes into sharper focus. His voice comes quickly through the modulator in his helmet, but in your daze it’s like you’re hearing him through water.

“Can you hear me?” Syllables and words come together in your head as you finally begin to comprehend language again.

A labored breath escapes your lips. You force out a quick, “Yes.”

He slowly pulls you to sit up and you have to bite back a groan at the way your body aches. It’s a bone-deep pain that you know will stay with you for a while, but you suppose that’s better than being dead.

“What happened?,” he asks cautiously.

“They came for the child. One of them escaped. Daask won’t stop until he collects his pay,” you tell him, though you have no idea if he’ll recognize the trandoshan’s name. Regardless, he’s sure to understand the severity of the situation. More hunters will follow. And it won’t be long before they do.

“He won’t touch the child. I’ll make sure of that.” He sounds so certain, so confident, as if he doesn’t have the entire Guild on his trail.

He pulls you to stand next, and it’s then that you realize just what Daask had done. Your ship—what little remains of it, anyway—sits across the clearing. It burns and smolders, beyond hope of repair. He’s taken out your only means of transportation. You’re not sure how you’ll leave Sorgan now. All you know is that you can’t stay.

The Mandalorian follows your gaze. “What will you do?,” he asks softly.

“I can find my way on my own,” you reply, though you’re certainly not sure how.

“You killed two Guild hunters,” he retorts, looking at where the bothan and twi’lek lie dead just a few yards from the wreckage of your ship. “They’ll put a bounty on your head next.”

“I’m not afraid of them.” Your words are insistent. You’ve been at this for a long time. You know how to beat bounty hunters at their own game.

The Mandalorian goes quiet for a few moments, and as you face him again you can see that he’s pondering something. You’re not sure why he cares so much for your well being, not when there’s a child already dependent on him for safety. There’s no logical reason for him to be concerned about what happens to you now.

“Come with us,” he says.

-

Chapter Two: Narudar

---

Tag List: @theforceofdisney​ @ginger-swag-rapunzel​

[swevenfox]

Daard is my first and only empire related character - a Bothan Sith (yellow markings are actually tattoos not part of his fur colouration and in his hair it just simply dye) who more of a manipulator/puppet master then front fighter saber warrior. 

His weird connection to the Force resulted him to born with odd eyes, one he continuously sees Force Ghosts of people or even environment which helps him to crack some old artifacts none could or understood but also driving him a bit more lunatic as the time passes he has hard time to separate them from reality. He is one can be reasoned, not immediate to jump at anyones throat and treasures sharp and sassy banters above all. 

He is snarky and smug - often appears overconfident and dominant personality while in the shadows he enjoys history, literature and writes poetry for his own entertainment.  

(now pray that the gif will work and tumbrl wont turn it static)

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 102

Okay, trying to queue this again after it apparently got eaten along with chapter 101.

Y’all pray for me to whatever higher powers you believe in or can make up on the spot. Thanks.

Thanks for this chapter goes to the fabulous anon who sent me an ask about Jedis. I really, really hope you are seeing this chapter and I hope you like it. I also want to thank @baelpenrose​ as my resident Star Wars expert, who checked, double checked, and triple checked my writing to make sure everything was as entertaining/accurate as possible.

Before you all cringe at some comments Sophia makes, she is deliberately downplaying her knowledge of Star Wars in an attempt to see if she can give some of the other characters a twitchy eye.

After an extraordinarily bizarre situation regarding my former foe and who I assumed was his partner, I was profoundly relieved to find myself in a very boring, very normal situation a couple of weeks later. Even the regular family dinner was pretty normal: grilled cheese on a very good sourdough, with a tomato soup so garlicky that even I had no objections to it. I made a point to puree it, so Derek was very happy with the texture and I was happy with the flavor. Arthur shot me odd looks once in a while, but it was a happy, calm dinner.

And things were going… so well… I thought as Maverick dragged everyone into his quiet argument with Sam.

“Sam,” He stated emphatically as he dunked his sandwich and ripped a tomato-soaked piece from it. “We all want it to be real but… humans don’t exist outside of Earth and the Ark.”

“Yoda is not human,” Sam insisted loudly, grinning the entire time.

I choked on my soup. “Yoda? You two have been arguing Star Wars this whole time?”

“Maverick insists they are not real,” Sam enunciated carefully. When he got excited about a topic he loved, he had a tendency to rush everything and drop syllables, making his words nearly impossible to understand.

“They meaning Jedi?” Arthur asked, eyeballing the pile of sandwiches on the table. Finally he snagged his third half-sandwich and dunked it without ceremony. “As much as I wish they were real, I have my doubts.”

So did I. “Human beings who can use telepathy, telekinesis, and distance-empathy?” I scrunched my nose. “I think that’s a bit far-fetched.”

“But extraterrestrials exist,” Sam pointed out.

Conor nodded. “They do, obviously. Otherwise, Noah would be a bloody big figment of our imagination.” Shaking his head, he smiled. “If we didn’t make Santa real as children, I doubt we could make up someone like Noah, right?”

Sam only got more serious. “I was always taught that aliens don’t exist. My teachers told me that the only life off of Earth were bacteria. But, even if Else is bacteria, Noah isn’t. So, maybe other things we thought were pretend are real.”

The table was silent for a moment, shattered only by Derek dusting bread crumbs from his hands as ceremoniously and loudly as humanly possible. “Sam has a point,” he signed. “Fabricators exist, aliens exist.. Hell, telepathy exists - “

“Not telepathy,” Miys interjected from above.

“Neuro-pheremonal communication exists,” Derek finger-spelled, making a point of how cumbersome the term was in a way none of the rest of us really could. Seven minutes later, he took a slurp of soup and continued. “Unicorns exist, even if they are chubby. Why not Jedi?”

I opened my mouth to refute, then realized I couldn’t: we had the genetic code for both narwhals and rhinoceros in the gene bank. Good effing luck convincing anyone unicorns don’t exist, I guess. Instead, I grasped on my one last leg of logic. “But humans, like Luke Starkiller and Obi-whatsit Kenoshi don’t actually exist.”

Maverick looked absolutely revolted by something, which confused me. He liked tomato soup, and actually chose the cheese for the sandwiches himself. “Sophia. Have you even seen those movies?” He was absolutely aghast as he posed his question, and I suddenly understood what he was revolted by.

“Of course I did,” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “In college, in Intro to Adolescent Literature.”

Soup abruptly coated everything on the table as both Arthur and Conor spat violently at my clarification. Arthur scrubbed his chin the fastest, so had the honor of levelling his incredulity at me. “Sophia Reid. Do you mean to tell me that you have only seen Star Wars ONE TIME?”

I shook my head, confused. “No. I’ve seen all three.”

“ELEVEN,” Sam corrected me loudly. “There are eleven movies.”

“Please, please tell me you at least saw Rogue One,” Maverick begged. “You may not have known it was a Star Wars movie?”

“Is that the one where the robot hits the guy and says he has another fresh one?” I asked carefully.

Maverick nodded. Arthur, however, looked like he was about to start breathing fire. “I am going to force you to consume every bit of Star Wars media worth consuming if I have to get Charly and Derek to program the audio versions to play in every room you enter.”

“I can do that,” Derek signed, unhelpfully.

Arthur just nodded. “See? I can make this happen. Your quarters will feel like Hoth, all digital communications will sound like C-3PO, and many Bothans will die before your datapad functions.”

Alarmingly, Miys interjected. “Wisdom, Bothans are an endangered species. Please do not encourage Educator Farro to commit atrocities.”

I was still gasping in confusion when Arthur recovered from his choking. “Oh shit. Bothans are real? They were a very back-stabby race of dog-type people who fought against fascists in Terran media. I thought, at least. I wouldn’t actually kill a real one… I am far more high functioning of a sociopath than that, thank you.”

“Noah,” I choked out. “Are you serious? Are Bothans real?”

“Affirmative,” they responded, setting off an entirely new round of choking and sputtering. I would need to have something done about my floors if this kept up. “And while they do resemble Terran canines on a very superficial level, they are genetically more closely related to a Terran fern.”

Arthur looked like his heart had been ripped out of his chest. “That is the least back-stabbing and least threatening plant I can possibly think of.”

Conor, not to be outdone, was still curious. “Boston or Fiddlehead?”

“Asparagus fern, Human Conor,” was the reply that set off a thousand coughs.

Sam recovered first. “That does not mean Jedi don’t exist,” he insisted.

“Of course Jedi exist,” Miys answered in a tone that was as close to being confused as I had ever heard.

Almost immediately, Arthur, Maverick, and Sam started cheering and high-fiving. Conor looked confused, while I spat my soup out again.

“WHAT?” I choked out between attempts at keeping tomatoes and garlic out of my lungs.

“They are as real as any member of any other Terran religion.”

Silence ruled the room for a split second, broken first by Arthur throwing his fork in the air behind him.  Like a signal, it led to Sam and Maverick dropping their head to their forearms with a groan.

I managed to recover enough to slide my food away, lest I risk death over an absurd conversation. “Are there anything like Jedi in the known galaxy?” I asked, receiving a thumbs up from Arthur, who was still trying not to choke on his soup.

“Only in small measures.”

That seemed like the magic phrase to snap Arthur out of whatever coughing fit he was having. “Are there any species in the galaxy that have Jedi abilities?”

“You will need to be more specific.”

Conor, laughter out of his system, joined gamely. “Is there anything that can move physical objects without touching them directly?” he started.

“Several species can,” Miys conceded. “Those who only experience what you consider ‘sight’ as changes in air currents can, in fifty-four percent of cases so far, also change the air currents in a sufficient way as to move physical objects.”

“Wait,” I interrupted. “They can stare at something hard enough to move it?”

“Wisdom, if I experienced physical pain, I am certain that your oversimplification just now would have caused such a sensation.”

Without rebutting, I waved for Miys to continue and ignored the laughter caused by the comment.

“Similarly, there are species more limited than Hujylsogox, who can perceive the physical world strictly through sound,” they continued. “In such cases, it is not uncommon for these species to also alter their surroundings by vibrating physical objects at a frequency that causes them to move within physical space.” A brief pause before, “And no, Wisdom, that does not mean they scream at objects until such objects move. I would also like to point out, Educator Farro, that the same species can cause internal organs to vibrate as a sufficient frequency as to cut off air flow.”

“Force choke is real,” Arthur whisper-shouted, mildly horrified. Clearing his throat, he spoke more clearly for his next question. “What about ‘there is a disturbance in the Force, as if many voices cried out’ etc?”

Miys buzzed thoughtfully for a moment before replying more clearly. “There are number of species who are able to perceive and interpret with great accuracy any changes in interstellar radiation, no matter how small. Should, say, a star go nova or collapse into a black hole, they are very reliable in providing information to cartographers. Should such a species state with certainty that a planet ceased to exist, I would need to see the planet from orbit in order to disbelieve them.”

Maverick let loose a low whistle, but it was Sam who spoke next. “But what about living beings, on an individual level. I know you can do that, but can any other species?”

“It is, perhaps, the most common trait in the known galaxy,” Miys admitted. “Even humans can do this, to a degree, although you tend to ignore it against all logic.”

“Okay. What about force lightning, though?”

I actually started to respond to that, having an answer finally, but Miys beat me to the draw. “Species who communicate through electrical currents are more numerous in the galaxy than those who can see. In the same way, they need to be able to manipulate such currents. Their young are frequently sequestered on their home worlds in order to prevent electrocution of species whose neural organs can be disrupted by uncontrolled communication. The same species are capable of using those same currents to increase their own synaptic response and reflexes.”

I almost wanted to laugh at Maverick’s face. He looked frustrated and ashamed in a way that I could not figure out. Maybe because these abilities existed, but not in humans? Regardless, his tone was frustrated when he asked his next question. “What about force ghosts? Please tell me those are real?”

“Very much so,” Miys confirmed. “Though likely not in the way you think. What you consider ‘Force Ghosts’ are, in the galaxy as it is, the result of technological advancement combined with spiritual beliefs.” A few groans surrounded the table, but Maverick perked up slightly. “Many species believe, as a result of their evolution, that their predecessors’ life energy persists after death. In these cultures, it is so common as to be unremarkable for a person to have a synaptic recording chip installed shortly after birth, to record their entire lives. They, then, pass their chip on to their successor in  position.” Wait a minute… I thought, but Miys continued before I could put everything together. “In such circumstances, many species’s neural organs will manifest a… personality, separate from the original, in order to preserve mental stability. Such manifestations are very similar to what Terran media considers a ‘Force ghost’.”

“Hang on,” I ventured, holding my hand up emphatically to cut off any other questions from the table. “That. Stop there.” Taking a deep breath, I thought back through everything I had read in the past. “I thought the idea of deliberately having multiple, distinct identities was… a story, honestly.”

“Even in your own past, it was discovered that the human brain can host two distinct personalities with no difficulty, Wisdom,” Miys admonished. “These species, however, are uniquely adapted so that, along with the memory implant, they suffer no actual combination or confusion of experiences. What their ancestor experienced is their ancestor’s memory, and what the person experiences is the person's memory. A person cannot overwrite an ancestral core. Only speak to it.”

“Can humans do that?” Sam asked, dazed in wonder at this new revelation.

“Not yet,” Miys responded. “But I do insist on the word ‘yet’, as you were never meant to do many of the things you do now.”

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[thevehszlegacy]

Jen Sept

Basics

Full Name: Jendrush Sept

Prefers: Jen, Captain

Gender: Cis man (he/him)

Faction: Neutral (Republic bias) -> Alliance

Rank: Freelance Smuggler -> Republic Privateer -> Alliance Privateer

Aliases: Captain, Voidhound (boyfriend jokingly calls him “Voidcat”)

In-Game Class: Smuggler - Dirty Fighting Gunslinger

Playlist: Personal playlist / ship playlist

Physical + Mental

Species: Cathar

Height: 5′ 11″ (180 cm)

Hair Color: Black

Fur Color: Gray, black, silver-white

Eye Color: Yellow

Notable Features: 

-Goatee. 

-Hair always in a ponytail. 

-No tail. 

-Often grinning. 

-Likes to paint his claws.

Scars: Base of spine scarred from having tail cut off. Scar across right eye. Missing a patch of fur on ribs. Other various scars across body.

Personality: Arrogant, Impulsive, Immature, Loyal, Sympathetic, Optimistic

Type: ESFP (“Entertainer”)

Strengths: 

-Natural leader.

-Quick thinker.

-Quickdraw + good aim/eyesight. 

-Doesn’t play fair/good at getting the upper hand

Weaknesses: 

-Overconfident. 

-Doesn’t think things through. 

-Mouthy - it can bite him in the ass.

Fears: Dying, pain, slavery

Disabilities/Disorders: ADHD

Relationships

Romantic/Sexual Orientation: Pan

Status: Dating

Boyfriend: K’hedif

Parents: Tetriza (mother) & Lucien (father) Sept - deceased

Siblings: Milthe (sister) & Forah (brother) Sept - they were triplets, statuses unknown

Children: Jessi & Jeva Toklar and Liakige Harren (adoptive)

Miscellaneous

Usual Attire: Leatheris jackets and pants, scarves, fingerless gloves, comfy boots.

Weapon of Choice: Duel wields blaster pistols

Home: Star Hopper

Place of Birth: Aboard the Star Hopper, Unknown Regions

Favorite Color: Blue

Pets: None

History

Born and raised on the Star Hopper along with his siblings, one could argue Jen was born to be a smuggler and any other life would have never fit him. He embraced the life he was raised into and was taught to pilot Hopper from a young age. After their parents’ deaths, the triplets were left on their own where they continued smuggling operations for a time--however, they’d started to butt heads without a mediator, and their operations fell to the wayside when arguments would break out between them.

After dodging a payment to the Hutt Cartel, the triplets were hunted down. Jen managed to escape--losing his tail in the process--but his siblings were both captured and sold into slavery. To this day, he keeps an eye out for them but has lost hope in ever finding them again.

Jen continued operations as a one-man crew for many years, with Corso being the first person in a long time who’d worked with him. His crew grew substantially over the course of a year or two--from a Wookiee, to a Mandalorian, to a Sith Pureblood who’d fled the Empire and the two children he’d adopted on the streets of Nar Shaddaa, to a cranky Bothan who was a retired bounty hunter. 

From one-man crew who didn’t want to work with anyone, to a large crew he started to see as family, it came to a point Jen couldn’t understand how he’d been able to stand being alone for so long--his crew is his family, now. He fell in love with K’hedif, and embraced the fact he had kids with open arms. Jessi, Jeva, and later a Sith apprentice they rescued named Liakige, are all Jen’s kids as far as he’s concerned. 

Jen goes through the class story with the intentions of helping the Republic where possible while still remaining as independent as he can. Come the expansions, he’s part of the goings-on to varying levels. On Makeb, he was sick of all the waiting around for a plan and often led the charges for the isotope and whatnot. Whereas, for SOR, he was more in the background, with he and Jakarro bombing things in tandem with their respective ships. 

Into KOTFE, he briefly takes his crew underground so he can figure out how to get around the blockade on Coruscant, then proceeds to run supplies to worlds in need. When Hylo reaches out needing smugglers for the Alliance, Jen isn’t long to take his crew and join up to work for it, and continues doing so after Valkorian is defeated.

[thedarkreborn]

AN EPISODE VII FANFICTION: THE DARK REBORN

The Galactic Empire has fallen. After forty years fighting a lingering but inevitable defeat following the Battle of Endor, the Empire has agreed to surrender. In a show of good faith, the New Republic has pulled all but ceremonial remnants of their fleet away from Coruscant, their galactic capital, for the treaty signing. Now dignitaries from the two governments meet to usher in a new era of peace and freedom for the galaxy, unaware of the dark threat approaching from the unknown regions…

CHAPTER THIRTY: ABOARD THE ERRANT VENTURE, 40 YEARS ABE

The Errant Venture’s hangerbays were foundationally no different from those of any other Star Destroyer--the aging ship had, after all, begun life as a vessel in the Imperial Navy--but the mismatched collection of ships, and even more mismatched collection of beings who flew on and maintained them, could not have looked less Imperial if they had been assembled for that purpose deliberately. Like Riesel, all of Booster’s crew wore bright red jumpsuits or uniforms to match the ship’s exterior and mark them as his staff, but like Riesel they had all made personal modifications of varying degrees that would never have been allowed upon a military vessel. Gloves, capes, belts, tunics, scarves, head-coverings, jewelry...anything that a sentient being could think to wear, they were wearing. (One petite Bothan even had a pair of gauzy decorative wings strapped to her back for no apparent reason other than that she liked the aesthetic.) And that was to say nothing of the guests aboard. 

They ranged from grimy down-on-their-luck smugglers and freelancers and grifters to high-rolling gamblers and wealthy members of the galactic elite. Leia Organa-Solo was the only high-ranking New Republic politician onboard right now, but that was only because they had all been recently gathered on Coruscant for the disastrous peace treaty and none of the rest of them had made it off-planet with the same haste. The lack of high-ranking Imperials could be ascribed to the same reason; while Booster didn’t much like the Empire (he had spent several years of his life in an Imperial prison, after all, and he was the sort of man who held his grudges close) he wasn’t shy about taking their money--or double-charging them based on a combination of galactic exchange-rates and principle.

The sight of an Imperial shuttle tucked amidst all the merchant vessels and pleasure yachts and junkers that frequented the Errant Venture’s hangers was not, thus, an unprecedented one--but it was still a sight that brought Finn Ghanti to a dead stop mid-stride.

READ MORE.