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Author	Topic: 2008 Before the Saga Awards Excerpt Thread
Before_Awards_Sock Title: Fan Fiction Awards Sock: Before the Saga Registered: Nov '04	Date Posted: 7/5/08 12:56pm Subject: 2008 Before the Saga Awards Excerpt Thread - Date Edited: 8/1/08 10:08am (5 edits total) Edited By: JadeSolo
	Welcome to the 2008 Before the Saga Awards Excerpt Thread ! Here you will find snippets of each qualifying entry for all award categories. Read them and decide which you feel is the best for that category. As a reminder, these are all who qualified for the voting round: Best Alternate Universe Scion of the Warrior House by VaderLVR64 The Truth Shall Set You Free by jedidas3 Not Myself by Bek Into Another Day by Jinngerbread Headstrong by Itachi-Uchiha Best Canon Glory Days by azizah Road to Mandalore by Dar_manda Patience by Glenstorm All the Correct Things by ardavenport Best Action Threads of the Past by Magier Attraction by Dianethx Fast Forward by ardavenport The Wise by 1Yodimus_Prime Best Drama Headstrong by Itachi-Uchiha The Truth Shall Set You Free by jedidas3 Remembrance by jedidas3 The Wise by 1Yodimus_Prime A Long Time Ago but Not So Far Away by Bastet Best Romance Heart in a Cage by Meredith_Kenobi Spindrift by JediNemesis Does Kissing Count? by Alley_Skywalker To You by ardavenport Best Humor Epistles to a Master by Princess_Arulmozhi Attraction by Dianethx Little One by Lilith Demodae Best All Around The Best of Intentions by jedidas3 Attraction by Dianethx Not Myself by bek Style Most Underrated Preservation by Jedi_Perigrine Kinetics by Rogue1-and-a-half Heart in a Cage by Meredith_Kenobi "The One Below" Emerges by Alasse_Earfalas The White Twi'lek by Katana Geldar Serpent Spawn by AzureAngel2 Distortion by Neon Star Best Response To A Challenge At the Foot of the Bed by VaderLVR64 for the Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan holiday challenge Birthright by UnderCoverJedi It Always Rains on Dxun by Commander-DWH Into Another Day by Jinngerbread (Layren) Best Songfic For Good by Jedi-Gon You'll Be In My Heart by Glenstorm It Always Rains on Dxun by Commander_DWH Best Poem Observation by mslanna Vercopa by MsLanna Best Crossover Gate Crashin’ by Jinngerbread and Lithiniel "Holy Force, Batman!" by p_stotts Best Vignette Völuspá by JediNemesis 112 by VaderLVR64 What Dreams Know by LuvEwan An Island of Stone by VaderLVR64 Best Short Story Into Another Day by Jinngerbread Laundry Day by ardavenport The Sian Ny Chronicles by VaderLVR64 Best Epic Headstrong by Itachi-Uchiha The Truth Shall Set You Free by jedidas3 Not Myself by bek Best Series The Best of Intentions and The Truth shall set you free by jedidas3 Fragments of Illusion by dianethx Jinngerbread Cookiees by Jinngerbread Character Best Canon Interpretation, Male Dooku in Glory Days by azizah Obi-Wan in Attraction by dianethx Qui-Gon Jinn in Into Another Day by Jinngerbread Best Canon Interpretation, Female Padme in Purple Palate Politicians by Persphone_Kore Shmi in A New Beginning by Kelia Shmi Skywalker in Not Hers to Keep by VaderLVR64 Best Original Character, Male Flamini in Spindrift by JediNemesis Kale Kenobi in Not Myself by Bek Trin The Sian Chronicles by VaderLVR64 Best Original Character, Female Healer Milcah in Headstrong by Itachi-Uchiha Aelinor in Captive to Crown by Tych_sel Anais in A Win-Win Situation by Jinngerbread aka Layren Skye Darre The Blue Side of the Force: Luminosity by Commander-DWH Best Child Quinlan Vos in Headstrong by Itachi-Uchiha Padme in Purple Palate Politicians by Persphone_Kore Trin in The Sian Ny Chronicles by VaderLVR64 color=teal]Best Non-Human[/color] Auurrr-uuh in The Sky-Fallen by ardavenport Yoda in 112 by VaderLVR64 Yaddle in "The One Below" Emerges by Alasse_Earfalas Best Villain Dooku in Headstrong by Itachi-Uchiha Erelia Zadros in Attraction by dianethx Warden Dernal in Remembrance by jedidas3 Best Ensemble Cast Threads of the Past by Magier Attraction by Dianethx Not Myself by Bek Author Best New Author Jedi_Perigrine silverfighter LordNyax113 Jedi-Gon Best Author JediNemesis jedidas3 Glenstorm Best Collaborative Mending a Broken Heart by Kelia-Lily Gate Crashin' by Jinngerbread and Lithiniel VOTING PROCESS: 1) Select which of the fics from the qualifying list you would like to vote for. Using a template is not necessary, simply list the category and the entry you wish to vote for. 2) Send in your votes in ONE PM to the Award Sock. Votes sent elsewhere will not be counted. 3) You will NOT receive a confirmation PM regarding your votes. If you do not receive a PM from the awards sock within 24 hours of your PM being read, then you did everything correctly. VOTING RULES: 1. You must register prior to voting, so that we ensure that you are not a sock. Registration will be open through the voting period. 2. No voting with a sock. Voting with a sock WILL result in a short-term ban and none of your votes will be allowed. 3. You may vote only once in each era, in one PM as stated earlier. If you send your votes in multiple PMs, they will not be counted. The only exceptions might be on a case-by-case basis, per information given to you by THIS SOCK only. 4. Voting is open from July 20 at 12:01 AM board time until July 29, 11:59 PM board time. Late votes will not be counted at all--no exceptions. Early votes will be returned and you will be expected to send your vote in again under the correct timeline. No exceptions. See rule #7 if you will not be available during the voting period. 5. PM the Before_Awards_Sock with your vote. Votes sent elsewhere will not be counted. 6. Only fics on the Qualifying List are eligible for votes. Votes for other fics will not be counted. 7. If you will not be available or internet-accessible during the voting time period, arrange with the host, Lola64, for absentee voting. This must be arranged ahead of time, before the nomination period ends. Those needing an absentee ballot will follow all of the voting rules. 8. You cannot vote for yourself. Votes for yourself will not be counted. -----signature----- Before Awards Schedule: Nominations: June 4 - June 15 Excerpt submission period: June 19 - June 29 Voting Period: July 3 - July 12 Ceremony: July 18
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Before_Awards_Sock Title: Fan Fiction Awards Sock: Before the Saga Registered: Nov '04	Date Posted: 7/5/08 12:57pm Subject: RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread - Date Edited: 7/15/08 8:04pm (8 edits total) Edited By: Before_Awards_Sock
	Best Alternate Universe Headstrong by Itachi-Uchiha Smoke from their burning ship hung in the air, the cloying gray tendrils seeping into his lungs and making it difficult to breathe. Squinting his eyes against the grit laden air that surrounded them, he cautiously peered over the pile of twisted metal that had once been their twin seat starship. It was unrecognizable now and served as a temporary hiding place until he could figure out what their next move would be. Exhausted physically with his body screaming for water, Jedi Padawan Quinlan Vos ducked back behind the safety barrier before kneeling down beside the figure sprawled out on the ground. Golden eyes took a careful inventory of the unconscious man, the young padawan’s honey brown fingers tentatively lifting the bit of cloth that covered a wicked wound. A grimace twisted his handsome features, the yellow tattooing across his nose glowing in the predawn light as he noted the angry red skin around the ragged hole. His efforts to clean the wound and keep it that way had failed and infection was setting in. A low guttural moan broke from his companion’s lips, the first sound issued in over an hour's time. Pressing his palm against the man’s cheek, Quinlan was flooded with concern as he felt the chapped hotness of the pale skin beneath his hand. Trembling fingers brushed a long lock of ebony hair away from the sleeping man’s eyes before he twisted around to grab the travel bag laying behind him. There wasn’t much water left in his canteen but he knew he needed to keep the fever down until help could arrive. "Padawan?" The whispered word had him spinning around. Bending down he found his mentor fighting to lift weighted eyelashes, the gleam of deep blue eyes glowing with an abnormal brightness in the gloomy light. The hand he slid beneath the Jedi Master’s neck was wrapped to the forearms with his trademark black material, as he gently propped the man’s head up and held the canteen against chapped lips. "Drink, Master," he urged, a sigh of frustration following soon after when the precious liquid dribbled out of the corner of his master’s lips. Setting his mentor’s head back down on the ground, Quinlan screwed the cap back on the bottle. "You have a fever, Master." Trembling fingers weakly lifted to wrap in the front of Quinlan’s tunic before pulling him down. He had to strain to hear the words that spilled from the Jedi Master’s lips in a disjointed ramble. "Danger. You must go. Leave. Find help. Head north to the warlords. Only hope." Quinlan pulled back at the order, resistance immediately burning in his eyes. There was no way he was going to leave his wounded master behind and go off to find some outlaws that may or may not help them. Entwining his fingers with those that still clung to the front of his tunic, Quinlan pressed their now combined hands close to his racing heart. "I won’t leave you, Master. My fate shall be the same as yours." A derisive snort was his mentor’s reply as the injured man stared up at the sky overhead. "Impudent whelp. Wait until I get you back home." "I’m merely following your training," Quinlan protested, his teeth gleaming brightly in the pre-dawn light. "Disobedience and arrogance. I learned from the best." "That you have." The expression of regret that briefly flooded his mentor’s pale, handsome features had Quinlan wondering what thoughts were going on inside the Jedi Master’s head. Into Another Day by Jinngerbread A/N: In this AU, Qui-Gon is a fresh-faced knight, 22 years old. He is looking to pick his first apprentice. Entry Twenty-One I did not realize it had been so long since I last wrote. In my defense, the last two years have been quite busy, with missions seemingly back to back and I moved due to ah…well. I moved. Let's just leave it at that. I misplaced the journal in the move, and did not get back to it, as I have not been back to the Temple in some time. Right now I am on leave for a few more days, before I am assigned another mission. I think I will transpose these entries into my datapad, to make it easier to access. Perhaps if I use the datapad instead of the old fashioned method, I will be able to get back into the habit of writing daily again. While I'm home, I've been visiting a lot in the crèche. You remember Obi-Wan Kenobi who was in my first lightsaber class? He's one of the ones I'm considering as my first apprentice. I am looking at others though, also. He is such a promising student; perhaps someone with more experience would be a better match for him. It's hard to say. I’m also looking at an initiate by the name of Siri Tachi. She's such a bright and spirited young woman, and two years younger than Obi-Wan. It makes her a bit young, yes, but I definitely think there is a good deal of potential there, but again there is the same issue that a Master with more experience might benefit her as well. I'm doing my best to take things slowly and let the Force draw me to the initiates, much as I do with everything else in life. Listening to the Force is the best way to decide. Though, now I'm feeling more confused with the options presented to me. In time, hopefully things will grow clearer. Perhaps I am not to choose just yet and I'm to wait a few more years. Only time and the Force will tell. Not Myself by bek A/N: Obi-Wan was not raised by the Jedi. He spent the first ten years of his life with his mother and father until an accident changed that. He has spent the last seven years in the care of his aunt and uncle, living a life that has become anything but what he would have wanted. His gaze was unfocused in remembrance of his childhood, the better years of his life. He missed his parents, and yet a part of him was angry with them for leaving him alone to the life he now lived. He was no longer the innocent wide-eyed child they had adored; he was now a young man who bore the blood of innocents on his hands and the façade of an exterior hardened by circumstance. He had tried over the years to build a wall around his heart, around his emotions, but failed. He was a person who wore his compassion on his sleeve for all to see, a weakness his uncle had called it. He shook his head to rid himself of his thoughts. A soft voice to his right brought him back to the present. "You're thinking of them again." He nodded his agreement but otherwise didn't answer. "You're thinking, 'how could they leave you in this situation'. Am I right?" He didn't answer right away but then nodded again. Turning his head toward her, he asked, "Why do you let them do it?" A soft sigh escaped her lips; they had been over this too many times. "You know why. The last time I refused he beat me within an inch of my life. If it hadn't been for you, I may have died that night." His jaw tightened and then relaxed enough to ask, "How can a man who calls you his wife lend you to his partner?" She looked down at her hands and then back to him. "He wasn't always the man he is now. Even now, he isn’t always the man he pretends to be." "If you had died that night, at least you would have been at peace." She shook her head. "No. Did I think about it? Yes, but then I thought of you, Obi-Wan. I have raised and loved you since you were ten years old, and before that I spoiled you every chance my sister and Kale allowed. You are all I have left of my family. I couldn't leave you to suffer this life alone. I will not allow you to become like them; I will be here to remind you every day that you are better than that. As long as you hurt for the lives and injustices that are lost within their wake, you are alive. If you were to ever become numb, to stop caring, this galaxy would be in a danger it's never known. You made me a promise once, and I intend to make sure you keep it." "I’ve done too much to keep that promise." She moved closer to him, turning so she was facing him. "You do what you are told to spare yourself from the torture they have inflicted upon you so many times before." When he lowered his head in chagrin, she placed her hand under his chin lifting his head to better meet his gaze, "You survived when others would not have. Your father told me once that 'there is no disgrace in doing what it takes to survive'. They force you to use your gifts for their gain, never your own." He jerked away from her and stood, his posture agitated. No matter how many times they had this discussion, the words always meaning the same but somehow phrased differently, he couldn't help but feel like there was something he was missing. "I steal so we can eat, so we can have clothes to wear and a shelter over our head. I help them maim and ravage other's possessions taking whatever it is they desire in order to elevate their own position in life. I helped them…I helped to take…." he turned to look at her not being able to complete his thought. "How can you sit there and try to rationalize it?" "I'm not justifying what we've all done in one form or another. But neither will I allow you to ever believe that any of this is your doing of your own free will. If you had a choice, I know you would be the upstanding man that your father raised you to be." "The man that you've tried to complete," he said softly, looking out over the town below. "Yes, and I can see that man waiting for the right time to emerge. He's in there, Obi-Wan. He'll know when it's time to come out." TBD -----signature----- Before Awards Schedule: Nominations: June 4 - June 15 Excerpt submission period: June 19 - June 29 Voting Period: July 3 - July 12 Ceremony: July 18
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Before_Awards_Sock Title: Fan Fiction Awards Sock: Before the Saga Registered: Nov '04	Date Posted: 7/5/08 12:58pm Subject: RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread - Date Edited: 7/15/08 8:05pm (1 edits total) Edited By: Before_Awards_Sock
	Best Alternate Universe continued The Truth Shall Set You Free by jedidas3 The Jedi master spoke once more, “Padawan, can you tell me what happened here? What happened to your master?” “He’s dead,” came the raspy reply from the cowering figure. “I know that young one. Can you tell me what happened?” “I killed him,” the padawan whispered. “I killed Master Elad.” Exhaustion began to claim the apprentice as he leaned his head against the wall. “I’m just so tired…I just wanted it to stop.” A nervous energy filled the room as other Jedi who had gathered began to react to the padawan’s words. Rumors and ideas that this apprentice must be full of the dark side flowed from one side of the room to the other. Ignoring the low roar of voices behind him, the Jedi master continued to press for information. He truly believed that things were not always as they seemed to be. “What is your name, young one?” The padawan choked back a sob. “Obi-Wan…Obi-Wan Kenobi.” The Jedi master knew of the young apprentice and of his slain master. Master Elad was well known for his aloof manner and his strict authoritarian approach. He had only trained one other padawan and that student had left the order before he could complete his trials. Whenever he had seen Padawan Kenobi with Master Elad, the tension between them had been evident. Obi-Wan had given the appearance of being the perfect padawan but there was obviously something amiss between the pair. The Jedi knew that nothing could be done for Master Elad, but the apprentice needed help. “My name is Qui-Gon Jinn. Let’s you up off the floor…you can’t be very comfortable.” Qui-Gon extended his hand and waited for Obi-Wan to accept his offer. The apprentice simply shook his head and closed his eyes. “Please, just leave me alone. I just want to be left alone.” “Alone you can not be.” The sea of onlookers parted as Yoda made his way into the room. He surveyed the carnage and the devastation that hung in the air like a thick fog. He slowly walked over to Obi-Wan and stood before him. “Help you need. To the healers you must go. Work this out, we will.” Obi-Wan slowly stood using the wall for support. His eyes met those of Qui-Gon as he leaned heavily on the Jedi master. For the first time, Qui-Gon was able to catch a true glimpse of the padawan’s appearance. Blood stains adorned the front of the robe as well as the sleeves. His hair was disheveled and bruises arrayed his face. The padawan felt as if he weighed next to nothing as he leaned on the tall Jedi. The healers met the pair and relieved Qui-Gon of his burden. Silently, they took the broken padawan from the master and headed towards the healer’s wing. Qui-Gon’s gaze turned back towards the crowd that still remained in the room. He diverted his attention to Master Elad lying on the floor as the speculations continued to pass between the other Jedi. Something caught his attention as he made his way through the crowd. He knelt down beside the fallen master and took his hand. The remnant of a padawan braid was clenched in Master Elad’s hand. Qui-Gon silently admonished himself for not noticing that the apprentice was missing his braid. “Answers you seek, but they are not here. Lie with the padawan they do.” Master Yoda stood beside his former student as he silently indicated for the crowd to disperse. He knew that an investigation would be warranted and that those Jedi in charge of the inquiry would need to study the scene. “He confessed to killing his own master. Do you think he did it?” “There was no deception in his words. Speak the truth, he did. Help he will need. Help him you will.” Qui-Gon began to protest. He couldn’t deny that the boy needed help. However, the Jedi master did not believe that he was the one to help the young padawan. Yoda tapped his walking stick on the ground to emphasize his point. “Argue with me you will not! The only hope that boy has, you may be.” “Master, I…” “The will of the Force it is. More than meets the eye there is. Get to the truth you must or forever lost the boy will be.” Yoda turned and left Qui-Gon standing there alone, grasping the braid in his large calloused hand. Qui-Gon Jinn looked down at the body of Master Elad. “More than meets the eye, huh? Well, I guess I better get started.” He quickly left and headed towards the healer’s wing knowing that he needed to talk with Padawan Kenobi and discover what would drive a padawan to brutally slay his master. Scion of the Warrior House by VaderLVR64 “The slave Shmi Skywalker has given birth to a healthy boy,” the majordomo said. “She has died in the effort however.” He could not quite conceal his satisfaction. “Very well then,” she replied. “Record the birth and mark him, Fengris.” “Today milady?” he asked. “Today,” she answered implacably. “It will be done, milady,” he said. He was to the door when her voice stopped him. “The boy, Fengris?” He turned and waited patiently. “Has he the potential of which the Seer spoke?” Fengris paused and considered the matter. Even now, the brat was screaming out its protests in the crèche. “There is possibly some potential…” he answered carefully. “It is much too early to tell.” “You think me foolish to listen to an old woman’s words, do you not?” Her voice was mild, but he saw the flash of anger in her eyes. “It is not my place to understand,” he replied. “You fear this child?” she asked, quirking one brow. “He is an unknown quantity,” Fengris said softly. “But if he is what the old woman said,” Lady Ratha murmured. “Think of how valuable he will be!” “If,” Fengris observed. “Time will tell us what we need to know. Keep me apprised of his progress, Fengris,” she said quietly, but even in those soft tones, he could hear the subtle sound of a blade being unsheathed. “The Seer spoke of the child…and now he is here.” A cold smile stretched her lovely mouth. “He must be guarded until we know if he is a treasure or an enemy to this House.” “It will be done, milady.” Walking back toward the slaves’ quarters, he pondered the events of the day. The loss of the slave woman was nothing more than an administrative matter. He would have to find a wet-nurse for the baby; the Lady Ratha was not going to risk the potentially valuable infant. The dead woman would be quietly and quickly cremated and the baby would remain in the care of the crèche, where all the slaves’ children started their lives. Many ended it there too, he admitted, for the life of a slave was difficult. He smiled now to remember how the dying woman had glared at him, her hatred alive and well even if her flesh was failing. For a moment, he experienced a moment of unease as he considered that he had violated the Lady Ratha’s trust in him. She had been most specific in her instructions. It was not his betrayal of his mistress that plagued him, but the possibility of discovery. The slave’s death eased some of that worry. If she had not had the good manners to die in bringing forth her misbegotten whelp he might have taken care of that little detail himself. As it was, she had saved him the trouble. He felt a moment of fondness for her, obliging him that way. The child lived, and that was best – for the moment. He did not share Lady Ratha’s hope that this child would be the one foretold by the Seer, but stranger things had happened. And even if he was the one, Fengris could foresee that such a child could be dangerous to the House of Suuntra. Time would reveal what, if any, special destiny that slave child would have. His only job was to keep it alive and that he could do. He must keep the child alive, if only to escape Lady Ratha’s fury. The crèche was quiet, even the newborn had finally fallen into a fitful sleep. When Fengris leaned over the small cradle, however, the baby opened his eyes. Something ancient gleamed in those blue eyes, something that made the majordomo uneasy. Reaching out, he let the baby grasp his finger as babies are wont to do. The child touched his finger only briefly and then let out a cry that shook his small body. The crèche nurse peeked in and then withdrew when she saw Fengris. “You know, don’t you, little one?” Fengris said softly. “Maybe you are the one the Seer glimpsed in the mists.” The baby still howled his outrage. “You are even more helpless than your mother, little Anakin Skywalker,” Fengris hissed. “You will not live unless I say it shall be so.” Abruptly, the baby’s cries stopped and their eyes met. Fengris found that he was the one now trembling. Stricken to silence by the babe’s unnatural manner, Fengris withdrew from the cradle and rushed out of the crèche. He pushed the thought of the dead slave’s son out of his mind. He needed some form of diversion. There was a new slave, one that looked innocent enough. He smiled coldly to himself as he thought of her. That won’t last long, he said to himself with grim satisfaction. -----signature----- Before Awards Schedule: Nominations: June 4 - June 15 Excerpt submission period: June 19 - June 29 Voting Period: July 3 - July 12 Ceremony: July 18
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Before_Awards_Sock Title: Fan Fiction Awards Sock: Before the Saga Registered: Nov '04	Date Posted: 7/5/08 12:58pm Subject: RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread - Date Edited: 7/16/08 4:45am (5 edits total) Edited By: Before_Awards_Sock
	Best Canon All the Correct Things by ardavenport In the fresher, Qui-Gon filled a large drinking cylinder; he sniffed the contents. It was fresh, clear and cool, purified, but still with a trace of the hillside springs from outside. He took it back along with a stack of thick, absorbent cloths, pale and unblemished, like the room and the furnishings inside the cottage. He put them on a stand next to the sleep bench and sat next to Obi-Wan who had slid off his own robe and travel pack and taken his med-kit off his belt. It lay opened next to him. Qui-Gon dampened a cloth and began wiping off the grit and mud from Obi-Wan's face, revealing the scratches underneath. The shadows of people darkened the window and something thumped against the closed door. Muffled voices, loud enough to penetrate into their refuge, drew Obi-Wan's startled attention. "That does not concern us, Padawan," he instructed sternly, taking Obi-Wan's chin in his hand and turning it toward him. Obi-Wan's eyes were wide with disagreement, but he said nothing. Qui-Gon continued cleaning, first the left cheek, then the right. Streaks of red stained the cloth along with the grime, but not much. Qui-Gon's eyes critically evaluated the bruises and scrapes while Obi-Wan watched his Master with increasing intensity behind his blue-gray stare. But he did not squirm or fidget while he submitted to the examination. Flipping the cloth over, Qui-Gon dipped the unblemished side into the water cylinder and continued wiping Obi-Wan's face, uncovering bruises on his cheek and forehead, and a long shallow scrape slashed across his nose. He dabbed the mud off from the ginger hairline and a round, shiny black bug crawled out onto the pale skin. Qui-Gon caught it on the end of his little finger and scrutinized it critically. Little legs and antennae twitched and wiggled, but it was clearly not parasitic. He flicked it away and continued to wipe away dirt along with tiny brown and black bits of dried muddy plants, but nothing else crawled out of Obi-Wan's hair. Picking up and dampening a new cloth, Qui-Gon cleaned his apprentice's neck and the collar of the tunic before laying the cloth aside. He gently placed his hand on Obi-Wan's right arm. "Let me see," he said quietly and Obi-Wan nodded. Qui-Gon gently drew the injured arm away from where Obi-Wan had clutched it to his body and folded his hand around the point of injury. He had not sensed any broken bones or torn tendons and there were none. But it was badly bruised, warm with pain. "You can lessen the impact of this on your own, Obi-Wan," he said and Obi-Wan nodded, closing his eyes. He felt the Force from his Padawan, a little fitfully at first, gather about the wound, cooling the swelling. Qui-Gon watched carefully before reaching up and touching the bruise on Obi-Wan's forehead. They remained still, Obi-Wan's wounded arm relaxed, still cradled in his Master's hand. A faint mirror sensation of Obi-Wan's bruises prickled the same places on Qui-Gon's body and forehead through the Force. But there was no more serious injury underneath them. There was more thumping on the door and more muted shouting penetrated the interior of the cottage. Neither Jedi reacted or moved. The noise and shadows over the windows receded. Qui-Gon opened his eyes and looked down at his apprentice. He picked up an antiseptic stylet from the open medkit, clicked it on and began passing the tip over the facial scrapes, his hand under Obi-Wan's chin. "You are concerned about what happened," he stated. Obi-Wan's eyes opened slowly. Qui-Gon read the personal disappointment in his expression, a sense of failure. "I'm sorry I fell, Master." "I am sure you are," he agreed, again laying his hand on Obi-Wan's injured arm. While the Force could speed up healing, it was hardly better than a medical droid and bacta. The arm would be tender and sore until they returned to their ship and took advantage of its facilities. "But there is no need to apologize to me, Obi-Wan. You did nothing wrong." Obi-Wan stared back with a shocked expression as if Qui-Gon had announced that he would be knighted as soon as they returned to Coruscant. "But I did not realize where the danger was, Master. I though it was safe, but instead I fell through the bramble bridge." He smiled. "The only reason why I did not step where you did is because you were ahead of me." Qui-Gon began skimming the end of the stylet over the scrape on Obi-Wan's nose. "And which would you say was the greater danger? The rotted bramble bridge? Or the blaster cannon that fired immediately after you fell through?" Obi-Wan's shock renewed. "It was a cannon?" Patience by Glenstorm Down there, my friend, Qui-Gon pushed the notion into his strange mount’s mind. With a confused squawk the Draigon obeyed, winging down smoothly towards the inland caves. It was then that his plan backfired spectacularly. A shadow fell across the earth. Qui-Gon heart plummeted like a rock as he looked up and saw to his horror that a whole flock of the flying beasts were now winging after him, alerted by his mount’s cry and determined to rid it of its passenger. There were hundreds of them. And more were gathering-- a hungry black cloud heading straight for where the rest of the refugees were hidden. Oh, dear Force. What had he done. He had to warn them down there, they had to prepare for… this. For a second he was at a loss. The only way was to alert Obi-Wan through their fledgling bond, if that was what it was. The boy had been able to reach him every time he had had a need but Qui-Gon had never tried to do the same, too stubborn and afraid of the pain it would cause him if he did. But the choice had now been taken from him. Shutting out the memory of Xanatos that inevitably rose with the action, Qui-Gon reached for the strange connection he had now with Obi-Wan. It came to him with an ease that surprised and Qui-Gon felt the awareness of the boy’s mind mingle suddenly with his. It was a bond, alright Weak, but there. Detailed communication was beyond the neglected link, so Qui-Gon did his best to push along the sense of coming danger and the need to warn every soul hiding within the doomed caves. No response and for a moment Qui-Gon despaired. The flock of Draigons was closing and Obi-Wan had not heard him. Had his fear and stubborn heart condemned everyone on this planet to death? He would never forgive himself if it had. But just as his hope dwindled to its blackest moment, there came a flash of blue, cutting through the mire of his despair. Obi-Wan came racing from the caves, lightsaber held high, ready to face whatever threat had been forewarned. Qui-Gon watched as the boy’s step faltered, the blue blade sagging slightly as its owner caught sight of the nightmare that was winging his way. But only for a moment. In the next second the lightsaber straightened. Obi-Wan prepared to battle the insurmountable odds. Like a Jedi, Qui-Gon’s mind whispered, but he had no time to mull over the statement, for the ground was rushing up at him. His ride had reached its end. Wasting no time Qui-Gon released his hold on the Draigon’s mind and gathered himself, leaping into the air even as the beast twisted and snapped at his heels. Bloodied and battered, Qui-Gon fell, hit the floor and ran. He did not stop or look back until he reached Obi-Wan by the cave entrance. The boy’s shifting eyes took him all in at a glance including the pouch still hanging securely from Qui-Gon’s belt. One trouble, at least, lifted from his young brow “Go, Master,” he said as Qui-Gon drew level and slowed. “Go to them. They need you.” Qui-Gon’s gaze flickered towards the gathering cloud. Obi-Wan caught it and urged him on. “I’ll hold them, Master Jinn,” he said, gripping his lightsaber firmly. “Go now.” The look of quiet resolution on the boy’s face caught Qui-Gon’s returning protest in his throat. In those blue-green depths he could see only calm acceptance and a peace with what would most certainly result in the his defeat. Obi-Wan had deemed the lives in the caves were more important than his own and he was willing to lay it down for them all. Jedi, Qui-Gon’s mind whispered again as he stepped forward. This boy was turning out to be more than he ever expected. Almost he stayed. Almost ignited his lightsaber and turned to face death at the boy’s side. But Obi-Wan was right. He was right. Others were relying on them. Qui-Gon paused just long enough to squeeze the boy’s rigid shoulder before racing on into the caves, shutting out as he went the sound of a thousand terrible wings circling above and the hum of a single lightsaber standing alone… Road to Mandalore by Dar-manda Authors note: I couldn’t find anything about Canderous’ ascension to Mandalore, so I wrote it. He sat next to her as she awoke. He was holding one of her grenades. She sat up stiffly. “Lightsaber,” he said, activating the blade, it was red. “There are only a few people I have ever heard of that use red lightsabers, and if you tell me you killed a Sith and stole it, I'm not going to believe you.” He said levelly, as the blade retracted. “Even if I were telling the truth?” She said, he shook his head. “And I know I can't make you believe me.” She made to stand up and he drew his knife. “Ok so it's like that.” She sat back down, tucking her legs up under her. “What do you want from me?” “The truth.” “That one I killed a Sith and took.” He growled. “Honestly,” she held up her hands. “He got in my way when I was trying to leave. I was in a bit of a rush at the time and I didn't have much else on me, mainly just the clothes I stood up in. He decided that he would make me stop and fight the incoming threat. I didn't want to, so I left.” She looked into his face while she was talking. “You said you only ran away once in your life, that was it? What scared you enough to make you run?” “You,” the single word bought an expression of confusion to his face. “Well word filtered down the ranks that Revan was coming, of course like you we didn't know who he was, he was just a Jedi to us. Then they started saying that he had a crack shot with him, that was just seen as a challenge and I was desperate to have Carth's head mounted on a wall somewhere.” “Aren't we all?” Canderous murmured. “But then someone bragged that he would kill himself a Mandalorian. Your name was mentioned and I did the most sensible thing I have ever done in my life, I ran for it. I got outside and everything became complicated.” She paused, met with stony but attentive silence. “The walkway I was running along collapsed and I had to climb up the outside of the Academy...” He held up a hand. “The Academy, the Sith Academy on Korriban?” He took a deep breath, wanting nothing more at that moment than to wring her neck. “So you're a Sith? Sent to stop me?” “No, Revan asked me to help you, he said that he knew you could never walk out on him. He thought it was mainly the morbid curiosity the Mandalorians are legendary for that kept you with him. He asked you to do something for him and he understood a lot about us because he knew you wouldn't dare back out. He knows we were once a proud, honourable race and he's seen what we have been reduced to. Brigands and mercenaries? We should be so much more! And he knew that you are the one man that can make it happen.” She was on her feet and in his face, her vehemence making him sheath his knife. “I hold a very loose allegiance to the Jedi Order, but a great allegiance to Mandalore. What I am is what you are. You walk away from me and I will burn Ordo to it's core, before I ever admit that I am your kin!” Canderous' mouth dropped open in shock, no-one had ever spoken to him like that in his entire life. A few people had tried, but only one of them had ever survived. “Not to mention that Mandalorians have sided with the Sith at every available opportunity. I find your lack of trust in me on discovery of the fact that I'm a Jedi, frankly disturbing. You're a hypocritical, old man, who only lives for the next war to start so he can revel in blood! You want lecture me about honour! When you re-discover yours, you can, until then... I have nothing more to a say to a hu'tuun like you!” He slapped her, the blow was so hard it took her to her knees and broke her cheekbone. She shook her head, trying to clear her vision and his boot caught her under the chin, knocking her flat. He activated the lightsaber and kneeling down on her hands, held it to her throat, the blade touching her skin just enough for it to smoke. “How dare you call me that!” He growled. She did not answer him, she was busy concentrating on the end of the hilt. Being threatened with a lightsaber was not the best focussing aid for a Jedi trying to unscrew something using the Force. Glory Days by azizah Summary: Dooku tries to find out just what is going on back at the Temple during the events of A Captive Temple. Lights flickered on automatically as he stepped out onto the deserted terrace. Dooku waived them off impatiently. He preferred the darkness, there was nothing here to see but fountains and flowers. Had he been in the mood for pleasant scenery his personal preference would have run more toward the magnificent view of the glimmering cityscape, distant and perfect, far below in the valley. He stood looking out for some time, so deep in his own thoughts that the lightest touch on his cheek startled him out of his brooding stupor. Glow moths. Their tiny insect song and soft whisper motion of their wings suddenly loud in his ear as they swarmed past him, drawn toward the warmth and light of the reception from which he had fled. Dooku had no such inclination. He moved a step further, out of the light into the shadow, the muted talk and laugher from the party inside followed him. Dooku released a slow breath of uncharacteristic frustration. Inside, Taylar was in top form, full of flattery and sympathy, wit and good humor, flitting about the room from group to group just like one of these damnable insects. Try as he might, Dooku could not get the man alone. The solution his dilemma was simple, of course. And it was under that pretence that Dooku had come away from the light and laughter to this dark corner. He looked down at the comlink in his hand and hesitated. It really was a simple matter. The distance to Coruscant was not so great, he could know the truth of the matter in moments. He had but to ask and his former apprentice would willingly tell him everything, Qui-Gon had never denied his master anything that was within his power to give. It was just that it had been a long time. Far too long, Dooku admitted with a sigh. And how did one begin that conversation. It has come to my attention that you’ve been in a bit of trouble lately. Come Padawan, the truth now, were you really responsible for the near destruction of the Temple? But in all truth, he knew that this was not the real issue. Dooku was no more afraid of a few awkward moments than he was of losing a light saber duel to an initiate. No lack of proper words had ever stood between him and his padawan. No, it was not the words that Dooku dreaded, it was something else. A subtlety so fine it should have been lost within the intricacies of interstellar communication. But it was there, broken down into parts, hurtled across the galaxy and perfectly recreated in the re-synthesized voice of his apprentice, and Dooku always recognized it immediately even though it was a quality he had never thought to connect to himself. Defeat. That bastard, Xanatos! With an effort, he quelled some rather un-Jedi-like emotions, and brought his thoughts into focus. He would not go down that road tonight. Dooku glanced back inside, if anything the crowd around Taylar had grown. There were other Jedi he could go to for answers. His own former master, Master Yoda, or his friend, Mace Windu both would readily and easily talk to him. But still he hesitated. After a long moment, he keyed on his com and entered his identification code followed by another series of numbers. The connection was instant, though no shimmering holographic form appeared before him in the darkness. There was no reason for a visual, the Temple’s assignment system was completely automated. With the proper access codes, the system gave the current status of all Jedi knights. When prompted, Dooku entered the code for Qui-Gon Jinn. It was a long code, but his fingers moved with a deft familiarity across the keypad. A beat and then confirmation. Active - On assignment. A small green light flashing on screen confirmed the same information. He closed the link, feeling slightly ridiculous. It was invariably the same. It was true that on a handful of occasions he had felt a sort of hollow justification at the unexpected blink of an anemic yellow alert light. Inactive. Usually followed by contact coordinates for the healer’s ward in the Jedi Temple. But these rare occurrences could be measured in the space of days. Or nights, passed with interminable slowness in some far corner of the galaxy. Entering another code would have allowed Dooku to leave a message or if possible, convey the coordinates necessary for contacting the knight in question. He never did. -----signature----- Before Awards Schedule: Nominations: June 4 - June 15 Excerpt submission period: June 19 - June 29 Voting Period: July 3 - July 12 Ceremony: July 18
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Before_Awards_Sock Title: Fan Fiction Awards Sock: Before the Saga Registered: Nov '04	Date Posted: 7/5/08 12:59pm Subject: RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread - Date Edited: 7/16/08 1:13pm (5 edits total) Edited By: Before_Awards_Sock
	Best Action Attraction by dianethx Note: Qui-Gon Jinn eats something, making him irresistible to women. At the moment, he was trapped. Women were pulling at him and I could see him shrugging off the brown cloak that entangled him in the mob, that hampered his movements. The women seemed to enjoy this, lifting it high into the air and they began to tear it to pieces, making happy noises while they shredded it. This was not good. They were eyeing him like he was a wrapped present and it was Life Day. As one woman, bolder than the rest, started to reach for his tunic, he was able to get one hand free and raised it high. I threw my cable launcher at him. With a slight nudge in the Force, pushing the women back to get some breathing room, he caught it; then he was suddenly in the air, scrambling up the cable toward the chandelier. There was a low collective moan and some of the more athletic in the mob were jumping up, trying to reach him. He may be a large man but he's Force adept. He hung there, swaying slightly, looking down at the agitated crowd, a stunned and rather confused look on his face. Some of the women were calling to him, begging him to come down, hands raised in entreaty. A few of them were crying. Others were still hopping around, trying to reach him any way they could. An enterprising woman, shorter than the rest, had taken one of the high-backed chairs, climbed up onto it and was using the added height to try and grab his ankle. If it hadn't been so troubling, it would have been amusing - the chandelier with a Qui-Gon ornament attached, the crazed mob swaying back and forth in time with the fixture's movement. But Qui-Gon's refuge was starting to disintegrate. Bits of dust and ceiling were floating down, covering the mob in white powder. And he was lower than he'd been just a few moments ago. Not good. There was a soft sputtering sound; larger pieces of duraplast clunked to the floor. Qui-Gon and the fixture he was clinging to slipped again and now he was only a few meters above the mob. Jumping distance if the person was athletic enough or standing on a chair. It seems impossible but the chair-grabber launched herself into the air, hoping to catch my master's foot and drag him down. She missed, falling instead into the center of the pack, collapsing the crowd. For a moment, there was a scramble of arms and legs as the women tried to stand up again. This gave Qui-Gon the opportunity he needed. Using the Force, pulling up his legs and using them to gather enough momentum, he and the lamp began to swing wildly, first one way and then another and finally, in one final desperate move, past the edge of the rabble. He let go, leaping free and sprinting for the door. With a low groan, the mob realized that their prey had escaped and they turned, almost as one, and pelted after him. I was a few steps ahead, barreling down the corridor toward the kitchen area. He was catching up fast. Long legs and the added incentive of an aroused swarm of demented women would do that. I forced myself to go faster. But unfortunately, the hallway was the main conduit for food and drink to be moved from the kitchen into the ballroom. Hovercarts piled high with desserts choked the passageway; the remainder was filled with droids carrying trays of drinks. We were in trouble. Qui-Gon sprinted past, hair flying and tunics askew. "Keep up, Obi-Wan. Those women are..." Then, without missing a beat, he ducked under a mechanical arm and leaped over one of the floating dessert trays. All grace and style. "Irrational." How he could fly through the air seemingly without effort was beyond me at the moment. But now was not the time to ask, not when a rabid mob was closing on us both. Qui-Gon glanced back at me, then pushed ahead, forcing some of the droids out of the way. He was trying to make a path for me but I wasn't the one with the problem. Still, I didn't want to slow him down. I followed his lead, dodging droids, leaping over the hovercarts, trying to catch up. Unfortunately, I didn't have Master Qui-Gon's Force skills. Jumping over the mountain of sweet treats floating down the hallway, tucking in as much as possible to avoid an accident, I thought I'd left myself enough room. Unfortunately, I was a little too cocky. Making it past most of the desserts, I came down on the other side of the hovercart but my boot clipped the edge. Disaster. Fast Forward by ardavenport Scrabbling up onto the ground, almost level with the window, he ran a weaving path over debris and through random blaster fire toward the nearest skimmer. A small and skinny teenager, he easily evaded it. Reaching the first skimmer, he slapped the canopy release with his palm. Nothing happened. Nothing activated. An explosion close by threw pebbles and chunks of buildings at him, some of them heavy. One crashed into the canopy of the skimmer. It cracked. Running to the next one, Obi-Wan fleetingly thought about the Force, guided by his outstretched hand releasing the hatch on the skimmer. But he knew the advance thought poisoned the action. Do or do not. He didn't have time to try. The canopy of the next skimmer rose immediately after he slapped the access panel. Engines hummed and lights inside the cockpit flashed as he climbed inside. The seat was big and too far back and the restraint straps too loose, but the engines fired up immediately, the computer blinked yellow, then green for lifters, lift boosters, acceleration dampeners, thrusters, thrust boosters, internal atmosphere, auxiliary life support. There were no weapons. And only orbital impact and heat shields. Nothing happened when he clicked on the seat adjust, so he scooted forward, the loose safety straps sagging over his shoulders. He gripped the control stick in his right hand. The weight of the ship vanished, the lifters cancelling out the planet's gravity. The ship immediately drifted to the left and he corrected, then swung it around back toward the meeting buildings. There was a huge, gaping hole over the window that he had escaped from, black smoke billowing up into the clouded sky. Qui-Gon popped up from behind a fallen section of wall and ran straight toward him. Obi-Wan continued turning the ship. He released the rear cargo space hatch and it flipped upward. Qui-Gon leaped, the Force strong and sure as his body arced through the air and dove into the opening. The ship tilted and bobbed to the left with the impact and added weight, the acceleration dampeners barely keeping up. He could feel Qui-Gon adjusting his position with every dip and pitch of the ship. Obi-Wan boosted the stabilizers. The last pilot had routed extra power to the thrust boosters. A line of blaster bolts streaked across the landing field, tearing up the duracrete, the pounding muffled from inside the sealed ship canopy. Obi-Wan swung the ship around and upward and it zoomed toward the mountains. The seat adjustment finally snapped into place, but he hardly noticed the jolt forward, the safety restrains pulling tight over his narrow shoulders. The cargo hatch was still flashing orange on his board. It was closed, but not sealed. He couldn't go out of the atmosphere. He banked and rolled past a steep purple-lichen covered slope. The proximity alarm signaled four pursuit craft behind him with a string of honking beeps. Four green triangles wove and positioned themselves behind his white one on the computer screen. Yellow blaster fire streaked over the ship's canopy. Obi-Wan rolled the skimmer and plummeted into a ravine, hugging close to the side, the rock face whizzing by. A rock outcropping exploded to his left before falling far behind. A fifth ship joined the other four on his screen. With a quick right angle turn, the long canyon floor changed to a ribbon of overcast daylight. The ship wobbled and bounced with Qui-Gon's weight in back, suddenly shifting to the opposite side. The status light of the cargo hatch went red. Open. Obi-Wan fought the stick for control and re-routed more power to the stabilizers from the rear thrusters. The previous pilot had clearly valued speed over maneuverability. He dodged rock outcropping and clipped the ends of snaggly branches. A quick dodge of more blaster fire forced him into a roll that almost turned into a spin around the ship's unstable axis before he leveled his orientation again. The canyon walls vanished. He was surrounded by gray sky again. The rear hatch indicator went back to orange again. Then blue. Sealed. Pressurized. The auxiliary life support activated. Obi-Wan's thumb pressed down hard on the rear thrusters. The ship angled straight upward. Gray surrounded him. Hazy yellow streaks flashed through the clouds, cleanly missing him. His ship shot out into blue sky and indigo thinning atmosphere above. The white-yellow sun blazed behind him. Obi-Wan headed straight for the rings. Five ships emerged from the cloud layer, blasters firing in nearly every direction but toward his space skimmer. But after a moment Obi-Wan's proximity alarm went off again with six green triangles on the screen. He rerouted power from the lift stabilizers to the thrusters and arced the ship upward. The Wise by 1Yodimus_Prime The tree was ahead. The one he’d found on his walk the other day. This was why he’d found it. This moment, right now. It was perfect. Rule number four: Always identify where the highest ground with the most exits is. If you need to make a stand, make it there. With the aide of the Force, it took him only moments to ascend its massive, complex trunk. He was thirty feet up before the girl caught up to the base, hand on her eye. He slowed down to rest, and studied her carefully. She seemed normal, now that he could view her with less terror and shock clouding his judgment. Just a girl, a little older than he, wrapped in black animal fur, ropey hair, dirty hands, catching her breath. Not so scary after all. Then she looked up. There was something there he’d never seen before, not in anyone. Not even in those bullies on the street who would beat up on little kids till they passed out, just for fun, and leave them to their fate. This was beyond that. This was…this was something fierce and cold. Something dark and primal. Something calculating and intelligent. Something…murder. There was murder there, in that fiery look. And it was aimed at him. He closed his eyes, he took deep breaths. That terror was coming back. He had to stay calm. He wouldn’t die if he acted rational. He’d be okay if he just stayed calm and acted rational and remembered his rules. Rules I’ve never put into practice before. Rules I made when people called me by that stupid name and I was full of myself from all my scared followers’ praise. Who the heck am I kidding here? Calm. Stay calm. The girl began climbing. It was extra effort for her. Even though he knew she had the Force, she apparently didn’t know everything about it, because she wasn’t using it now. Dummy. You could be up here in seconds if you’d just paid more attention to your true power, instead of training to kill people or whatever. He shook his head, feeling disappointed in her. Who was the fool that taught this girl? Then he snapped out of it. He should be taking advantage of this, not thinking of rebukes. What was he, a monk? She might be taking her time, but she had time to take. He didn’t have any. And now that he watched how she climbed it struck him: there really wouldn’t be a way out – an easy exit – from this situation. Not the way he’d expected. She was climbing erratically. Intentionally so. It would make anticipating her direction nearly impossible. There would be no way to predict where she’d be once he began climbing down. He was going to have to face her. Or was he? Rule number two: if you cannot avoid a fight, end it as quickly as possible. He winced. He hated that one, because it left so much up to the person with nowhere to run, which wasn’t fair. Still, it was logical. And he’d had plenty of time under Lady Averus to think up something better, but he never did, so this would have to do. He searched around, his mind racing. His Master had given him lots of lessons for his memory to pull from. There was one in particular that was about as clever as it got, though. He began concentrating on the branch she was about to step on. He concentrated on the fibers, woven inside, stuck firm to each other, holding strong. But maybe not so strong. Maybe a little bit loose, a little bit cracked. And oh, maybe they want to separate. Yeah, yeah actually, they do want to separate, they long for it. They want to be apart, they want to unweave. So they do. She put her foot on the branch. It snapped. It fell. She went with it. He stifled a laugh as she lay on her back, groaning. Go ahead, try again. He smirked. Except…she did try again. And faster, and more erratic and harder to predict, staring at him the whole way up with those cold, murderous eyes. He shuffled around the trunk, just to get something between him and those eyes. It occurred to him that maybe he should have waited a little bit longer before playing that trick. Long enough that her fall would do more than just knock the wind out of her. In fact, the boy suddenly realized, maybe he should have killed her. Maybe that was my chance. Maybe…that was my only chance. Finally, it sank in, like the black roots of a weed, that this wasn’t a game. Threads Of The Past by Magier “What do you mean he’s not coming?” Anakin asked harshly over the comlink as he paced back and forth in the corridor, restless like a caged animal. “Qui-Gon will be meeting you at the dock …” “But … you said yourself that he rescued you …” “And now you will,” Obi-Wan countered with determination. “You have told me about the events in the mine, how it directly led to him finally choosing you … what about the timeline?” the padawan asked, throwing his master’s preoccupation back in his face. “It was my destiny to be Qui-Gon’s apprentice, and we will have to trust the Force, that it can work through the change in events.” Anakin muffled a groan as the transmission ended, stamping his foot hard against the ground. Qui-Gon should be charging in valiantly to rescue Obi-Wan. At least he was here, and he wouldn’t fail his master. Anakin slipped through the door again to where the boy was sleeping. Reaching out, he gently shook him. Obi-Wan opened his eyes, the bluish gray orbs widening in surprise. Anakin put a finger to his own lips. “I am Anakin Skywalker. I’m here to rescue you. Let’s get out of here.” Obi-Wan nodded and began to follow before stopping abruptly and tugging on the Jedi padawan’s tunics. “Wait! Guerra.” “It’s going to be sunrise soon, and when they find you missing, every guard in this place will be looking for you,” Anakin scolded. “You’re unarmed, and I don’t know how well I can hold all of them off.” “Guerra helped me, and I owe him.” Anakin couldn’t find an argument, especially staring into his master’s determined eyes. “Okay, let’s find him.” They made their way to a lower level of the platform, Anakin following the Force signature he recognized as belonging to Guerra. They found the long-limbed alien sitting by an open window, gaze fixed upward as the sun rose over the ocean. He clutched a sling made of tarps in his hands. “Guerra!” Obi-Wan called. The alien jumped. “Obawan. How did you escape?” “A friend,” the boy said with a smile. “Now come on. We’re leaving.” Guerra reached his hands up to his collar in panic. “I can’t leave. Neither can you, Obawan.” Obi-Wan looked up at Anakin. “I forgot. It’s an electrocollar. It will blow us up if we leave.” “Wouldn’t want that to happen.” Anakin flashed a bright white smile as he concentrated the Force on the transmitter in Obi-Wan’s collar. “The buzzing is gone,” Obi-Wan said. “We can remove it when we get to shore.” “Yes, the guards in the security office on the Bandor loading dock carry the transmitter,” Guerra explained. “We will just have to pay them a visit,” Anakin said. The lights dimmed suddenly and an alarm, complete with flashing lights, began to sound. “That’s our cue to exit,” Anakin breathed out. Why was nothing ever easy? Obi-Wan hesitated. “Come on,” Anakin said more forcefully. “Go to the upper levels and hide,” Obi-Wan said to Guerra. “In an hour, your collar will be deactivated for good. Trust me.” “I trust no one,” Guerra said as he started for a nearby stairwell. He paused, looking back over his shoulder. “Not so, Obawan! I trust you.” They could hear footsteps in the corridor now. Anakin jumped up into the open window. He reached out and grabbed Obi-Wan’s arm, jerking the boy to his side. They climbed out on the railing. Anakin sensed the blaster fire before it erupted, pushing Obi-Wan to hydrocraft below as he ignited his saber. “Start the engine,” he yelled as he jumped down to join the youth. Determination gleamed in his eyes as he began to deflect the blaster fire raining down on them. He finally allowed himself to relax as they zoomed out of weapon’s range. “Where’s Qui-Gon?” Obi-Wan asked almost immediately. “Waiting for us on shore.” Disengaging his weapon, he turned to find Obi-Wan looking out across the sea. “I had hoped he would come for me.” The boy turned back to face him, gray eyes churning like the turbulent sea. He had been on the other side of that look more times than he could count. It was filled with questions, and Anakin hoped there might be a few he could actually answer. -----signature----- Before Awards Schedule: Nominations: June 4 - June 15 Excerpt submission period: June 19 - June 29 Voting Period: July 3 - July 12 Ceremony: July 18
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Before_Awards_Sock Title: Fan Fiction Awards Sock: Before the Saga Registered: Nov '04	Date Posted: 7/5/08 12:59pm Subject: RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread - Date Edited: 7/15/08 8:08pm (6 edits total) Edited By: Before_Awards_Sock
	Best Drama A Long Time Ago, But Not so Far Away by Bastet Author's note: Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan have crash-landed on a familiar planet (to the reader, that is), and now they've found out that their fight for survival has only just begun. The vision abruptly ended, like a light switch being turned off, and Obi-Wan felt himself falling backwards into darkness. “Master!” he cried out, hardly aware he had done so out loud. The sound of the roaring water faded, and he landed on his back in the warm sand. “Obi-Wan!” he heard Qui-Gon calling, and then he felt strong arms around him, lifting him up, and he reached out, grabbing onto rough cloth, anything to anchor himself to reality. “Padawan, what’s wrong? Speak to me!” “The fire, it was burning everywhere, and the wave, Master!” Obi-Wan cried, his hands twisting in Qui-Gon’s tunic. “We’re going to die!” “Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, look at me!” Qui-Gon said commandingly, and the boy immediately opened his eyes to see the concerned face of his master looking down at him. “You’re alright, Padawan, everything is okay.” “No,” Obi-Wan moaned, shaking his head. “No, it’s not! It’s coming, Master! The Force warned me, it showed me! We’re in trouble!” He clutched harder at Qui-Gon’s tunic, unable to look past the man’s head and out at the ocean, for fear of what he might see. He felt his master’s large hand on top of his head, and then suddenly he felt a blanket of peace and calm enfold his mind, soothing his terror, allowing him to begin to relax. “That’s it, my Padawan, calm down,” Qui-Gon said softly. Obi-Wan felt his master continue to pour comfort into him across their bond, and he closed his eyes again, dropping his shields to allow it to flow into him unhindered. Slowly his breathing evened out, and he sighed quietly in gratitude. “Thank you, Master,” Obi-Wan finally whispered as he opened his eyes. He looked around, and saw that everything was the same as it had been earlier, the sky was blue with the occasional puffy white cloud, a cool breeze was blowing, and the forest was green and dim. And finally he was able to bring himself to look out over the ocean, and he saw with relief that it was still the same blue-green body of water stretching to the horizon that it had been before he had started his meditation. “Can you tell me what happened, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon asked gently, and the padawan turned back to his master’s concerned blue gaze. He nodded, finally feeling calm enough to tell the big Jedi about his vision, as the horror of it was slowly fading under the clear blue sky and the tranquility of the moment, though he knew that it was something he would never forget. Slowly at first, Obi-Wan told his master of every detail, hardly aware that his shields were still down, allowing Qui-Gon to see everything as it had been in his vision as he spoke of it. When Obi-Wan finished speaking, Qui-Gon remained silent for several minutes, taking in everything his padawan had told him. “Master, what are we going to do?” the young Jedi finally asked, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen. “We need to get out of here!” It was another moment before Qui-Gon finally spoke, he had been gazing out at the ocean. He turned back to his padawan, his face serious. “Yes, we do, Obi-Wan,” he said regretfully. “We need to be far from here when that asteroid hits. But from your vision, I’m not even sure that will be enough. We need to find shelter, something much more substantial than a tree.” “Like what?” Obi-Wan asked, still a bit too rattled to think very clearly. The desire to get as far away from the ocean and the forest as possible as quickly as possible was almost overwhelming him, it was taking almost all of his control not to jump up and start running right {i}now{/i}. “I was thinking a cave would be ideal,” Qui-Gon said. “The deeper the better.” Then he put his large hand back on Obi-Wan’s head, and the boy closed his eyes as he felt his master sending him another wave of calm. “Just relax, my Padawan,” he said softly, obviously having sensed the boy’s restless agitation. “I don’t think the Force would have warned you about what was coming if there wasn’t enough time for us to do something about it.” Headstrong by Itachi-Uchiha He was alone in the room, just as he had been during most of his time as a Jedi. Forced to kneel on the cold hard marble of the intricate pattern in the center of the Council room floor. They didn’t care that he was beyond exhausted, weaving back and forth as he fought to keep himself from tumbling at their feet in a limp pile of black garments. The bright lights reflecting off the vehicles that buzzed outside the huge windows had him squinting his eyes. Lowering his gaze it came to rest on the object that sat on the floor before him. He had spent hours crafting the silver cylinder, the gray durasteel now worn from constant contact with his hand. Even from this distance he could see the black scorch mark in the hilt from where a blaster bolt had slipped past his defenses. He’d decided to leave it as a reminder of his failure. Failure. That word brought his thoughts careening back to the present and of the still figure who stood behind him. He could feel the accusing stare burning a hole in the back of his head as their bond briefly hummed with disappointment and hurt. Strong shields were abruptly slammed down, severing any lingering link between them. The sense of loss drove him forward, a hand forced to reach out and steady himself, keep him from falling face forward on the floor. For a brief instant he thought he felt an instinctive wave of worry from behind, but it vanished so quickly he decided he must have imagined it. There were only three of the Council members present, the rest no doubt off on missions. He forced himself to straighten once again, his gaze briefly touching on each of theirs. His show of defiance did not go unnoticed, Master Yoda’s mouth creasing into severe lines of disapproval as the ancient master leaned forward. “Grievous charges have been brought against you, Padawan Akshay. Anything to say in your defense do you?” “No, Master Yoda.” He bit back a smirk at their surprised reaction before continuing. “Everything Master Qui-Gon has told you is true. I allowed my father to tempt me with the promise of power and wealth and was actively assisting his effort to wage war on a neighboring planet. When Master Qui-Gon confronted me with what he had learned I pulled my weapon on him.” Master Yaddle’s feline eyes studied him with deep sadness. “Sense little remorse in you do we.” “I regret my actions and know that what I did was unforgivable. If it will make you all feel better, I can grovel and plead for understanding but what good will that do? I have betrayed your trust and no amount of pleading on my part can change that.” He tilted his chin out while pulling his shoulders back. “I am prepared to accept whatever the Council decides is suitable punishment for my actions.” Master Yoda shook his head slowly before shifting his gaze toward the silent figure behind Xanatos. “Anything to say on this matter do you, Master Qui-Gon?” Xanatos froze as he awaited his mentor’s response. They hadn’t spoken on the trip back from Telos, both of them keeping a safe distance on the ship. Xanatos had little hope that his mentor was prepared to forgive and forget what had transpired. “The trust between us has been damaged beyond repair.” Qui-Gon’s quiet words were laced with hurt. “I ask the Council to release me from my duty as Xanatos’ master.” Eyes sliding shut, Xanatos bowed his head in acceptance of his mentor’s request. Even though he had expected such a response it still pained him to hear the words spoken aloud. They had been together for so long, Xanatos close to taking his Trials and being knighted when he’d allowed himself to be mislead and used. Although he understood Qui-Gon’s reasoning, a small childish voice buried deep inside still cried out in anger at the rejection. Almost as if sensing his thoughts, Master Yoda’s ears flattened against his head, a sure sign he was unhappy. “Anything to say to Master Qui-Gon do you?” Xanatos hesitated before shifting his body in the direction of his now former master. Qui-Gon’s expression was carefully guarded, arms crossed over his chest as he met Xanatos’ gaze with one that revealed nothing of his current thoughts. He seemed to have aged over the course of the last few days, appearing worn and almost fragile as he braced himself for whatever Xanatos had to say. The Wise by 1Yodimus_Prime Hiding was out of the question. During the day he could walk openly in the streets, so long as he appeared purposeful and kept to the neighborhoods that tolerated him. But at night, they all came out. Violent, territorial gangs of children, older than he (always older), who sniffed out every safe place in the town and called it their’s. He had no protection, he couldn’t sleep, he was terrified and cold and exhausted from always having to keep moving, every night and every day so he didn’t look suspicious to the merchants or look like a target to the gangs. They didn’t even offer their victims a chance to join. They just surrounded them and beat them up until they bled. Until they bled a lot. Until they became wrecked little heaps on the dirty ground. Then he would creep over, after they’d gone, and concentrate on the little cells and fibers that couldn’t be seen, helping them get reoriented, find their way, make them want to reconnect, regenerate, seal up, get better. When it worked, the being for whom all those little cells and fibers made up would awaken feeling better than ever, wondering if the gang’s actions had been nothing more than a bad dream. The boy, of course, would be out of sight by then. Except, sometimes he was too scared to go near them afterwards, to help. Maybe because of what the older kids had said, or because they didn’t run off far enough. And sometimes, he didn’t help them because frankly, he didn’t think they deserved it. In those cases, he’d just sit there behind a parked speeder or a dumpster or looking out the shattered window of an abandoned building, and he’d watch the wrecked little heap as it shuddered and shook and mumbled wrecked little things from its wrecked little mouth…and sometimes, staggering, they got up and limped off…and sometimes, to his regret, they stopped moving altogether. Eventually, he knew in his heart that such a fate waited for him here. It was only a matter of time. If he didn’t find a way to get off the street, as soon as possible, he would die. He would be ganged up on, and would die. And no amount of intelligence and no amount of pure brilliance would stop that. He had to get out. Any way he could, he had to get out. TBD -----signature----- Before Awards Schedule: Nominations: June 4 - June 15 Excerpt submission period: June 19 - June 29 Voting Period: July 3 - July 12 Ceremony: July 18
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Before_Awards_Sock Title: Fan Fiction Awards Sock: Before the Saga Registered: Nov '04	Date Posted: 7/5/08 1:00pm Subject: RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread - Date Edited: 7/15/08 8:08pm (1 edits total) Edited By: Before_Awards_Sock
	Best Drama continued The Truth Shall Set You Free by jedidas3 …Kneeling down beside the padawan, Qui-Gon reached out to the hurting youth, placing his hand gently on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Obi-Wan? Please let me help you. There are no more games to be played.” “That’s good,” Obi-Wan replied wearily. “I don’t have anything left to lose…except my life—and that’s not worth much.” “Padawan Kenobi…Obi-Wan—I will not allow that to happen.” Qui-Gon prayed to the Force that he sounded more confident that he felt. He had the ability to bring peace to warring worlds, but he had yet to find a way to bring peace to the decimated spirit of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Obi-Wan shook his head and sighed heavily as he leaned back against the wall. “Master Jinn, I’ve lost the Force, most of my friends, and what little dignity and self respect that I ever had. By my own hand, I’ve lost my master and there’s nothing I can do or would do to change that. But more importantly, there is nothing that you can do. I’m asking you one last time to forget about me and leave me alone.” Qui-Gon realized that he was just beginning to gain insight into Obi-Wan Kenobi and what he had been forced to endure at the hands of Master Elad. Even if he had the desire to, he could not turn his back on the young padawan. “I can’t do that, Obi-Wan.” The Master and the Padawan said nothing as time seemed to stand still for a moment. The day had been filled with turmoil and chaos as well as several unexpected discoveries. The Jedi master did not want to ruin the first moment of tranquility that the youth had been able to claim as his own. Qui-Gon finally broke the silence as he spoke to the young man. “Obi-Wan, why did you react to my request with such vehemence? Were you afraid that I was actually going to harm you?” Obi-Wan briefly recalled the simple command of removing his under tunic that had spawned the events of the last few moments. “Afraid? No, Master Jinn, I wasn’t afraid. Fear…after all, fear leads to anger…I’m sure that I don’t need to tell you the rest.” “No, you don’t. However, you haven’t answered my initial question.” “Why don’t you tell me why it is so important to you? What are you expecting to see, Master Jinn?” The padawan was raising his defenses, once again. He silently cursed himself for allowing the Jedi master to see through the minute crack that he had allowed in his armor. “Why don’t you tell me what it is you’re afraid that I’ll see? I hope that I’m wrong about what I’m expecting; but judging by your reaction, I would venture to say that my perceptions are correct.” “If I do as you ask, will you leave?” Qui-Gon smiled as he stood up and offered a hand to the padawan. “For now,” he replied. “But only because you need to rest and eat something and I have another engagement.” Obi-Wan struggled to his feet ignoring the Jedi master’s offer for assistance. “Fine,” he angrily replied. He hastily pulled off his under tunic and stood before the older Jedi. What Qui-Gon saw was not what he was expecting—it was far worse than he could ever imagine. Obi-Wan’s back and chest bore scars both old and new. It was evident that various tools of torture had been used to mar the once perfect skin. The Jedi master immediately recognized several scars that would have been caused by a lightsaber burn. Other scars appeared to be the result of someone who was very proficient at wielding a knife. Qui-Gon could not even fathom a guess as to what other forms of pain had been inflicted on the padawan. The older Jedi stood speechless as he continued to stare at Obi-Wan. “Satisfied?” Obi-Wan asked. He desperately wanted the older Jedi to leave and never come back. “Not very pretty, are they?” “No they’re not,” Qui-Gon finally answered. “However, what is on the outside does not make you who you are. Who you are on the inside, your soul, is what is important.” “Well, Master Jinn, I guess I’m out of luck. My soul is as scarred as the rest of me. Now, you said that you would go.” Obi-Wan picked up his tunic and slipped it back on. He sat on the edge of his bed waiting for Qui-Gon to leave. “Tell me one more thing before I go.” “What?” “Was Master Elad responsible for those scars?” “Some of them...” Remembrance by jedidas3 “There’s something you don’t know about me," she whispered. “I thought we agreed a long time ago that we wouldn’t have any secrets between us.” “You’re right, Ben. But…” “But she kept something very important from you,” Dernal interjected. “I wasn’t talking to you,” Ben snarled. Ben wasn’t expecting the blow that knocked him backwards. He slowly forced himself to stand, wiping the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. The teen started to charge towards the Warden but found himself on the floor writhing in agony. He wasn’t sure whose screams were louder, his or Siri’s, as he pleaded for the agony to stop. After a few seconds, the pain stopped and Ben lay on the concrete floor. His breath came in short gasps as he worked to gain control of himself. The young man didn’t have to open his eyes to know that the Warden was standing over him holding the control to the collar that was around his neck. “You better remember your place, boy. I was trying to do you a favor by telling you that you’ve been sharing your cell with a Jedi.” Ben’s eyes snapped open, hatred consuming every fiber of his being. He struggled to sit up as he looked around for Siri. When he saw her face, Ben knew that the Warden wasn’t lying. “You’re a Jedi?” he asked Siri, part of him still not wanting to believe what he had just heard. “Yes,” Siri blurted out. “Please just listen to me. I can explain.” “There’s nothing to explain. You lied to me. You’ve been lying to me!” “Ben, please just listen!” Siri begged. “I’m through listening to you! No more lies!” Ben shakily rose to his feet and pushed his way past the Warden. He grabbed Siri as she scrambled, trying to get away from him. “Ben, don’t!” she cried out. “You don’t want to do this!” He pulled Siri to her feet and shoved her against the wall, his arm placed precariously across her throat. Ben knew that all he had to do was shift his weight and Siri would be dead… … The young man was pulled away from Siri to find himself face to face with the Warden. “Now is not the time,” Dernal reminded the teen. “You will face her in the area. Her death will be added to your list of triumphs.” “I would rather take care of her now,” Ben said. “This is personal.” “It may be personal, but tonight I have people paying to come and see a fight and I intend to deliver,” Dernal stated. “Do you understand me?” “I understand.” Ben heard the Warden’s words but his focus remained on Siri who had slid down the wall. He could tell she was crying, but he no longer cared. Tonight, he would no longer have to worry about fighting to keep her alive. All he had to think about was how long he would allow her to suffer before he delivered the fatal blow. The door opened and the guards entered the cell. Ben didn’t move to protect the young girl as the guards forced her to her feet and led her away. As soon as the door closed, he turned his attention back to the Warden. “Where is she going?” Ben inquired. “Don’t worry. I’m just moving her to another cell until tonight. I didn’t think that you would want to share a cell with her any longer.” “No, I don’t.” “Just rest. I’ll see you tonight.” Ben nodded as he watched the Warden turn to leave. When he was alone, he sat down on the floor and stared into the darkness. He was glad that no one could see the tears that were beginning to roll down his cheeks. The youth wasn’t sure why he was crying, but it really didn’t matter. He had been betrayed by the one that he truly loved, the one that he had been protecting. He still didn’t want to believe that Siri was a Jedi. How had he been so easily fooled? Why did she lie to him? How could she say that she loved him and then side with those who had nearly destroyed him? He leaned his head back against the wall. When Ben closed his eyes, all he could see was Siri pleading with him not to hurt her. The young man’s fury was reaching new heights as her betrayal played over and over in his tortured mind. Tonight, she would die and he would be the one to carry out her death sentence. -----signature----- Before Awards Schedule: Nominations: June 4 - June 15 Excerpt submission period: June 19 - June 29 Voting Period: July 3 - July 12 Ceremony: July 18
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Before_Awards_Sock Title: Fan Fiction Awards Sock: Before the Saga Registered: Nov '04	Date Posted: 7/5/08 1:00pm Subject: RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread - Date Edited: 7/17/08 2:53am (4 edits total) Edited By: Before_Awards_Sock
	Best Romance Spindrift by JediNemesis The story so far . . . Seven thousand years before Anakin Skywalker’s birth, four Jedi - Masters Iri Khaliqui and Charlaithe Maur, and their respective apprentices Flamini and Mairìs - have been sent on a mission to the planet Spindrift as representatives of the infant Republic to the planet’s native race, the Eluaha. For four long days now they had been under the water. Four long days of, for the Masters, delicate and spun-out talks with the Eluaha elders; for the apprentices, of silent, obedient attention. The Eluaha knew the Force, it turned out; they referred to it by a complex chain of motions that was, as far as Flamini could tell, much the same as the figure for ‘ocean’. The most practised Eluaha Force-sensitives, when they had been contacted and summoned to act as interpreters between the elders of the people and the outsiders, had proved as attuned to its nuances as any trained Jedi. In four days it had been possible to defuse any lingering suspicions the Eluaha held, and begin the long, long process of explaining in all its conflicted detail the nature of the society being born amongst the stars. A break had been called in the discussions to allow the Jedi a little while above water, breathing air that - though it was hot and tasted of unnameable alien vegetation - was fresher than the compressed supply in their breathing apparatus. They had a few more hours ashore, and then it would be time to don fresh breathing masks and go back under the waves. The two apprentices had been given the last few hours free, whilst their Masters saw to the upkeep of the ship and made their reports back to the Council. Flamini had cleaned himself up and changed into a new depth suit. The glossy black synth-fabric had been worse than armour earlier in the day, with the sun at its height, but now as afternoon drew on the dreadful heat was lessening. Out in the water, Eluaha occasionally broke the surface; their appointed handlers, keeping a watchful eye, or just curious passers-by eager to catch a glimpse of the strangers from another world. Flamini waved to the shining heads when they appeared, his attention only half on them. His attention was taken entirely away from the Eluaha when from further up the beach, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of movement, and a moment later a figure waving on the horizon. He sat back, the Eluaha forgotten, and waited as Mairìs came wandering unhurriedly down the beach, scuffing up sand and stones like a child on his first outing to the seaside. The depth suit glistened wet, clinging to the lines of his body. Flamini looked away, embarrassed, and gazed resolutely out to sea until the other apprentice slid down the sand dune beside him. They sat together in companionable silence for a few minutes, until Mairìs said dryly “The horizon’s very interesting, I have to say.” “The alternative is looking at you in that wetsuit,” Flamini said, without taking his eyes off the skyline. “What with being crèchemates,” Mairìs retorted, “growing up together, baths, swimming, and sparring shirtless, you’ve seen just about every inch of me. Now turn round.” Flamini obeyed, unable to conceal a grin. Mairìs was grinning too, eyes glowing green through his wet fringe. The glow was only a genetic quirk, but an unusual one, and Mairìs, a born extrovert, loved every iota of attention it got him. “I went up the headland a way,” Mairìs said, yawning. “There’s a swamp.” Flamini nodded consideringly. “A swamp. Anything else?” Mairìs shrugged. “Rocks, mainly.” The conversation subsided. Flamini followed the lines of salt and sand crusted in Mairìs’ hair and the folds of his wetsuit, and commented absently “I’m sure there’s more interesting things to look at.” Mairìs glanced out to sea, and said with uncharacteristic quietness “It’s all under the surface, isn’t it?” Flamini nodded. There was another silence. Flamini closed his eyes for a moment, letting the small background noises of waves and wind fade and the Force settle around him. His presence and Mairìs’ faded into one another, a binary star; further away were the comet-trails of the Eluaha sensitives, bright and fluid, slipping like quicksilver. A light touch on the back of his hand brought him out of the trance. “You’ve had all afternoon to meditate,” Mairìs said, and nodded towards the sea. “And you can do it just as well under there as up here.” “I take it you’re suggesting doing something else.” Flamini shrugged. “Do you want to show me the swamp you found, or what?” To You by ardavenport //^^\\v//^^\\v//^^\\_ He Lives _//^^\\v//^^\\v//^^\\ They finally let me into the room. 'His vital signs are dropping,' the doctor said. But he is only a doctor. One of the medical people leads me in, but I push the arm away when I know we are close. I reach out and my hands touch the padded edge of a diagnostic table. Then I find him. The skin of his arm is cold and I cannot stop the sudden fear inside me. I brush past sensors and tubes and find his hair and face. I am close enough to feel his breath on my lips. It is so faint. My fingers touch his mouth. "Qui-Gon. . . ." 'The damage is severe,' the doctor said. Now I can feel it as I had not, as I would not hear in their voices when they finally came after working so long on him. I feel his head move a tiny bit. He is weak. His great strength is gone, drained from him by the evil device he was imprisoned in for so long. It took so long to find him and the treachery in our midst. The betrayers are undone, but Qui-Gon . . . . there seems so little left of him. "Tahl. . . ." he breathes. "I could not go without seeing you again." "Stay," I plead. I have never begged for anything as I do now. "You came to me and told me my own feelings when I did not know them myself. You cannot go now." My eyes sting with tears. I press my forehead to his and they fall on him. "I pledge myself to you, Qui-Gon. You must stay." I take everything I have inside me, my love, the Force, my own breath and I will it into him. It seems so small compared to the great strength that has always been Qui-Gon. There is so little left now that my blind eyes weep freely. There must be more. Just a little bit more. Just enough. I feel movement and I know he feels what I feel. My hand goes to his chest; I search for the life left within him. He breathes in. "Stay," I beg. "Please." He breathes out. He breathes in again. It is a small motion of his body. But it is enough. His skin is wet and warmed under my tears. He breathes out. He breathes in. I am frozen in place, breathing with him. I dare not move. Nothing else exists except for this. There is nothing else for a very long, long time. The Force is faint in him, but it stays. Eventually there is motion around us. Medical sounds and then hands and voices. I will not be moved and the others move past me. "Tahl?" The voice has been calling to me and I can no longer ignore it. "Please, the doctors need to put in a breathing tube. Let them help him." It is Qui-Gon's Padawan, Obi-Wan. I lift my head and he pulls me away, his hands on my shoulders. I am startled when my hand no longer touches Qui-Gon's chest but Obi-Wan grabs my wrists; his grip is gentle but strong. Obi-Wan is so much bigger then I recall, almost man-sized. When did this happen? "Tahl, please. They need to help him now." The voices of the medical people are no longer muffled. They have become efficient again amidst the beeps and buzzes of their machines. There are still doubts among them, but I know. . . . . . . .Qui-Gon will live. Does Kissing Count? by Alley_Skywalker Summary: A teenage ObiWan struggles through the awkwardness of a first date… not to mention the issue of the Code. ********************* Why am I here, again? Really it was a question worth asking. After all, he should be in the archives studying, or in the training rooms going over katas. Meditation would surely be another alternative. So why was he here? Obi-Wan looked around at the hay-strewn ground underneath his boots, the cheap yellow glow lights, the primitive games that encircled him on all sides, with the clusters of stuffed animals that hung down from the ceiling ledges like lumps of grapes would hang from a grapevine, and the hoards of children running back and forth with cotton candy wads in their hands and chocolate smeared over their faces. Usually Obi-Wan didn’t mind younglings too much, but then the Jedi trainees were calm and collected, for the most part. Here, the atmosphere sometimes reminded him of a zoo. Loud music blared over the fare grounds and the squeaking of the ferrous wheal could be heard from several meters away. So why was he here? “Obi-Wan, come here! I found it!” Obi-Wan turned around on his heal toward the melodic voice calling his name. Now he knew why he was here. Siri Tachi, her blonde hair freed from its usual bun and flowing in a graceful wave down her back, stood on a small platform so that Obi-Wan could just make her out above the crowd of people, holding on with one hand to a pole and leaning forward precariously. She had practically dragged him here. Truly, were all girls this evil? But then, on the other hand, she hadn’t held a lightsaber to his neck and forced him to go. She had… suggested it. And he had agreed! Just sort of melted… There was some meditation to be done on his part. Obi-Wan hurried through the crowd toward his girlf—his friend and jumped up onto the platform next to her. “Ok, now what?” She looked at him strangely. “I thought you said you were good at bumper cars?” “I did?” She laughed. “Yes, remember when Broglen was bragging about how good he was at bumper cars you said that you were wonderful at them and could beat him any day.” Garen’s voice sounded in the back of his mind. [i}“Never let a girl think that another guy is better than you at anything.”[/i} “Oh yes, that,” Obi-Wan rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “Yes, I remember.” Siri laughed and tugged his sleeve. “Come on.” She flitted way from him. Obi-Wan could bet that only a Jedi girl could be so light on her feet. Not to mention in heels which looked ridiculous on her. Should he tell her that? Was honesty better than flattery? He did say she looked great. Well she did but…the heals…did it matter? Was it supposed to? “Obi-Wan, are you coming?” Siri called, holding onto the sides of two bumper cars. “I’m gonna kill Garen,” he muttered. -------------------------------------------------------------- Obi-Wan watched Siri as she chewed contently on a cheerio. Why couldn’t he have simply taken her to Dex’s for dinner? The food there was a lot better and surely a lot healthier. Especially the vegetarian menu. That’s what he always got. Qui-Gon said it was just a stage but really, weren’t they, as Jedi, supposed to respect all living things? So how were they supposed to respect them and eat them at the same time? ----------------------------------------------------------------- There was something nice about the way Siri smiled, something luring about her eyes. He liked to watch the movements of her body. Her laugh had a nice melodic sound. She had a terrible tongue and really what was with the “Prissy-Wan” nickname? But then how many other girls out there can kick a guy in the wrong place and still look cute while doing it? The ferrous wheel rotated again and Obi-Wan suddenly found himself and Siri high above the ground, looking over the wasted area of Coruscant which was being used for the fare grounds. Siri was looking at him, somewhat expectantly. Obi-Wan felt himself blushing. What was he supposed to do? He knew what he wanted to do… This was all wrong somehow! She’s really pretty… Qui-Gon would not be happy if he knew… Does she have to lick her lips like THAT? There is no emotion… Garen said girls like guys who take hints…Is she giving me a hint? “Whenever you’re ready, Kenobi.” Oh! The Sith with it! Obi-Wan leaned in and captured the blonde’s soft, pink lips with his own. She tasted nice… Does kissing count as violating the Code? Heart in a Cage by Meredith_Kenobi Rutan and Lyla sat on a stone bench in the garden with the soothing sound of a water fountain trickling behind them. It was, Rutan noted wryly, not so far from the very spot his mother had given him the news of his betrothal. Mr. Man, Rutan's bodyguard, was lurking somewhere nearby, though to Rutan’s request he was keeping out of sight. The young Hapan Prince knew that Mr. Man had only accepted this order because of the tiny tracking device and microphone that he was made to wear at all times which was directly linked to a tiny device in his bodyguard’s ear. “This is dreadful, I am so sorry for you.” “It is not your fault, Lyla.” Lyla tilted her head. “I know that, Rutan, but I am your friend. I have every right to feel sympathy for you when you have been wronged.” She put her hands over his. “For so long you have talked of marrying for love and finding your soul mate. You had me beginning to believe that for you it would be different; that you would be the exception. A male chume’da marrying his true love!” She laughed wryly. Her fingers touched one of the ink splotches on his hands and she met his eyes. “Like in the beautiful stories that you write.” “Maybe I can love Cumin Li,” Rutan suggested. “Maybe she is my soul mate.” “That shitha?” Lyla cursed. “I should hope not.” “You have met her, then. Is she really that bad?” “That bad and worse. Your mother could not have picked a woman less suited to you.” Rutan moaned and his head fell to his hands. “What am I going to do, Lyla?” She did not answer. He lifted his head just enough to look into her eyes. They were wet with tears, though she shed none. “Will you come with me when I go to meet her?” “Of course.” “Why are you crying?” “I am not crying.” “Yes you are.” Lyla wiped her eyes viciously on her sleeve. “I am just so sad for you, Rutan! It feels like all my dreams have been dashed, though it is yours that are gone.” They sat in awkward silence, listening to the water fountain, before Rutan finally spoke. “Lyla?” “Hm?” she sniffled. “Do you love me?” “Of course.” “No—what I mean is…” Rutan scratched the back of his neck nervously. “As more than a friend.” She looked at him. “I do not think so. Do you?” “No, I do not think so.” They again lapsed into silence. It lasted for so long that Mr. Man appeared on the scene, looming over them like a dark shadow. “There was an extensive, unscheduled silence on the chatter line. I came to investigate. Are you all right, Majesty?” Lyla gave Rutan an astonished look. “You have to schedule your silences?” “Only when you are around.” The two friends traded solemn looks. As one, they looked at Mr. Man, who stared back at them as somber and serious as ever. Lyla and Rutan met eyes again then burst into laughter. Sensing that their laughter was not going to let up any time soon, Mr. Man wandered off again. He did not even bother to hide that he had rolled his eyes at them. Rutan took deep breaths in an attempt to stop laughing, but as hysterical laughter always goes, that only made it worse. “I think we have upset him.” Lyla covered her mouth with her hand to make her laughter less obvious. “That was really mean of us.” “He just thinks we are overly silly, I do not think he is truly upset.” “He is just trying to protect you.” “From awkward silences.” They fell into new fits of laughter. -----signature----- Before Awards Schedule: Nominations: June 4 - June 15 Excerpt submission period: June 19 - June 29 Voting Period: July 3 - July 12 Ceremony: July 18
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Before_Awards_Sock Title: Fan Fiction Awards Sock: Before the Saga Registered: Nov '04	Date Posted: 7/5/08 1:00pm Subject: RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread - Date Edited: 7/17/08 3:01am (3 edits total) Edited By: Before_Awards_Sock
	Best Humor Attraction by dianethx Note: Qui-Gon Jinn eats something, making him irresistible to women. "How badly is he injured?" Oh, dear. I wanted to explain everything right then and get it over with but I didn't think it would be a good idea without Master Qui-Gon here. Instead, I stumbled my way through, trying not to say too much. "He.... isn't injured, Master Windu, but he might still be contagious. He will need to see the Healers when we arrive." With every word, Master Windu's frown deepened. But I couldn't stop now, especially since it was important not to spread this contagion any further than could be helped. Force-sensitive females fighting to get to Master Qui-Gon would not be a good idea. "I think it would be better if they were only male Healers or non-humans." My courage faltered as he stared at me and I finally stuttered out, "Mmm... Master." I swear his eyes flashed yellow for a moment. Leaning back in his chair, he glared blaster bolts at me but his voice was deadly calm. "Ah, so the holovids are true." My heart stopped beating. If there were vids of what my master had been doing, it would be all over the Temple. Everyone would see them. Everyone would know that Master Qui-Gon had been kissing women for hours, that he'd been covered in cake and sweetcream and loving it - that he'd been singing that obscene smuggler's song in public. Blast! Master Qui-Gon would be known as the sex-crazy, singing Master for the rest of my life. I'd never hear the end of it and no one would understand what I'd gone through. Instead, I'd be linked forever with kissing and riots and flying dessert. I'd be Kissing-them Kenobi, pathetic padawan to that rogue womanizer, Get-me-some Jinn; even Oafy-wan would be better than that! I tried not to whimper. "Hhhh.. holovids? As in more than one?" I couldn't keep the horror out of my voice. Master Windu's eyes got colder. I don't think he liked the situation and the fact that my master was at the heart of it just made it worse. "As in dozens, Padawan Kenobi. They started appearing on the holonet shortly after you left the planet. And there have been complaints as well. Your Master has a great deal to explain to the Council." "It wasn't his fault. Master Windu, it really wasn't." I was babbling now. I just hoped that Master Windu wouldn't try to have Master Qui-Gon expelled. Much as I don't always like what my master does - he confuses me sometimes - he's the greatest Jedi in the Order and he didn't try to do this. It just happened. "We shall determine that when he comes before us. Windu out." The transmission static died as Master Windu clicked off but I didn't see it. Instead, I stood there, panicking, my brain in total shut-down. I'd never make it to Knight. Master Qui-Gon would be kicked out for bringing disgrace to the Order and no one would take on the padawan of a rogue Jedi. I'd be cast off as well and we'd have to make our way in the galaxy without the backup of the Order or the friendship of our fellow brothers and sisters in the Force. No money, no friends, no way to pay for food or shelter or anything, we'd be disgraced, poor pathetic fools living on the streets of Coruscant, begging for our supper, the example to Jedi everywhere. We'd probably even be written into the Archives as the epitome of failure. All because of kissing. I swear if we get out of this in one piece and I'm still in the Order, I swear on my honor, on everything that I am and ever will be, that I'll never kiss anyone ever again. Ever! Little One by Lilith_Demodae Note: This was a response to a Missing Scene challenge. Little One "That's the new child?" "Yes. Quite a young one, in fact." "It'd fit in my palm." "I understand that at his full growth the top of his head wouldn't reach your knee." "Ah, I suppose that explains it." The two crèche workers stared down at the tiny figure in its cradle. "He looks like a chew toy." "Hush. Don't you dare say that where any of the other children might hear you." "But he does. It's the ears, the way they stick out like that." "And as if that wasn't enough, look at the name they slapped on the poor thing." There was a rustle of flimsy as the records were briefly consulted. "What kind of name is that?" "They say it's cultural." "So is cannibalism of the dead and ritual scarring in certain backwaters of the galaxy, but that doesn't make it right." "No argument from me. And it's not like he's going to grow up in that culture anyway." Blankets were carefully tucked closer around the tiny body. "Welcome to the Jedi Temple, little Yoda." Epistles to a Master by Princess_Arulmozhi No excerpt -----signature----- Before Awards Schedule: Nominations: June 4 - June 15 Excerpt submission period: June 19 - June 29 Voting Period: July 3 - July 12 Ceremony: July 18
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Before_Awards_Sock Title: Fan Fiction Awards Sock: Before the Saga Registered: Nov '04	Date Posted: 7/5/08 1:01pm Subject: RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread - Date Edited: 7/15/08 12:44pm (3 edits total) Edited By: Before_Awards_Sock
	Best All Around Attraction by dianethx Note: Qui-Gon Jinn eats something, making him irresistible to women. Humor and romance I must admit that I was worried. I've faced draigons and Togorian pirates and Master Yoda's gimer stick but this was really much worse. Those women were crazy and they weren't afraid to do whatever they could to get to my master. I just hoped that they didn't try to kiss me or worse, pinch my cheek like some baby. I hated that. Luckily, the first woman ignored me once I let her pass. She bound up the ramp and tried to jump into my master's arms but after his struggle with the Captain, he knew what to expect. He grabbed her and held her at arm's length for just a moment and then leaned in to kiss her. I was looking back to make sure everything was okay and I'm sorry I did. People look silly when they go to kiss someone. Master Qui-Gon had his eyes open at first and then closed them as he reached the woman's face. As far as I could tell, his mouth was slightly open as he pressed in. I bet the women liked it but I don't think it's very sanitary. All I know is that I'm never going to kiss anyone like that... ever. From my location, I could hear the female give a pleased little sigh. As I glanced back, my master whispered something to her and she turned around and started down the ramp, humming under her breath, a huge smile on her face, a happy woman. One down and ninety-nine or so to go. Drama and action There was a soft sputtering sound; larger pieces of duraplast clunked to the floor. Qui-Gon and the fixture he was clinging to slipped again and now he was only a few meters above the mob. Jumping distance if the person was athletic enough or standing on a chair. It seems impossible but the chair-grabber launched herself into the air, hoping to catch my master's foot and drag him down. She missed, falling instead into the center of the pack, collapsing the crowd. For a moment, there was a scramble of arms and legs as the women tried to stand up again. This gave Qui-Gon the opportunity he needed. Using the Force, pulling up his legs and using them to gather enough momentum, he and the lamp began to swing wildly, first one way and then another and finally, in one final desperate move, past the edge of the rabble. He let go, leaping free and sprinting for the door. With a low groan, the mob realized that their prey had escaped and they turned, almost as one, and pelted after him. I was a few steps ahead, barreling down the corridor toward the kitchen area. He was catching up fast. Long legs and the added incentive of an aroused swarm of demented women would do that. I forced myself to go faster. But unfortunately, the hallway was the main conduit for food and drink to be moved from the kitchen into the ballroom. Hovercarts piled high with desserts choked the passageway; the remainder was filled with droids carrying trays of drinks. We were in trouble. Qui-Gon sprinted past, hair flying and tunics askew. "Keep up, Obi-Wan. Those women are..." Then, without missing a beat, he ducked under a mechanical arm and leaped over one of the floating dessert trays. All grace and style. "Irrational." How he could fly through the air seemingly without effort was beyond me at the moment. But now was not the time to ask, not when a rabid mob was closing on us both. Qui-Gon glanced back at me, then pushed ahead, forcing some of the droids out of the way. He was trying to make a path for me but I wasn't the one with the problem. Still, I didn't want to slow him down. I followed his lead, dodging droids, leaping over the hovercarts, trying to catch up. Unfortunately, I didn't have Master Qui-Gon's Force skills. Jumping over the mountain of sweet treats floating down the hallway, tucking in as much as possible to avoid an accident, I thought I'd left myself enough room. Unfortunately, I was a little too cocky. Making it past most of the desserts, I came down on the other side of the hovercart but my boot clipped the edge. Disaster. Not Myself by bek A/N: Under his uncle's care, Obi-Wan faces another unwanted situation. The baby screamed in terror, somehow sensing his mother's fear. The young woman awkwardly tried to rock the child, trying to soothe him but only succeeding in making him cry louder. "SHUT THAT THING UP!" Tears were running down her cheeks; she choked on her fear. "I'm trying to, Sir." Using her right hand, she gently and soothingly brushed her fingertips along the baby's cheek. "It's okay, little one. Please be quiet, mommy's here," she pleaded. The child momentarily settled down, his small body trembling with each shuttered breath he took. He looked into his mother's eyes and not finding the calm he needed, he resumed his loud protest of the chaos around them. She pulled the baby closer to her and placed her hand alongside his head covering the ear that was still accessible to the mayhem in all its glory. "Shhh, it's okay. It's okay," she whispered. All around her pandemonium ensued. A blaster fired, causing a clerk to fall to her death. The woman hid her eyes in the baby's blanket as she proceeded to try to pull the child closer than he already was. Drawers were emptied and flung to the floor crashing against the tile. The baby jumped and the screams became louder. A hand reached down and pulled at the child trying to detach him from the firm grip of his mother. She held on, fighting for the right to stay with her infant. The voice above her shouted, "SHUT IT UP!" The man was suddenly ripped back and flung several feet away. Someone knelt in front of her, his hands remaining purposely folded in front of him, a physical sign that he meant no harm. "Take the child and go sit in that chair." She nodded and rose to do as she was told. Once she was out of harms way, the figure turned back to the man who was now struggling to regain his footing. "I told you women and children are off limits." The voice was firm; sure of its wording and confident that the order would be obeyed, or else. Nayt came out of the back but stopped upon seeing the confrontation between his partner and his nephew. The hostages were now silent, watching. The only sound was that of the infant who continued to wail in the background. Traest's eyes narrowed at the young man. "You dare to interfere, whelp? With all the ‘rewards’ you’ve received, I would have thought you’d learned your lesson by now." "I am a slow learner," a smirk curved Obi-Wan's lips as he said this. He knew he had gone too far, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to care. "You will not touch that child or his mother. If you want someone to take your anger out on, I'm right here." "Getting a bit braver are we? I should've done away with you a long time ago." Obi-Wan took a step forward and spread his arms out in invitation. "So what's stopping you?" * * * * * A/N: Obi-Wan is to meet with a soul healer in order to work through his past. Hebsley is anything but your typical shrink. The two carefully made their way to one of the lower senate levels. Deciding the Alderaan platform was probably the best bet since the healer was friends with Bail Organa, they stepped into the mobile unit. Sitting down at the controls of the Senatorial pod, Obi-Wan gently eased it out from its dock before handing the controls over to the physician. The whooping and hollering done by the healer did little in way of not alerting anyone to their presence. The older man pushed the lever that allowed the unit to zoom forward and then pressed it to its limit. A terrified look suddenly crossed his features when he realized he may not have enough time to pull up before smashing into the wall. The teen next to him reached out and took control effectively skimming the wall, sparks flying out behind them. “The room is circular, Hebsley, not a straightway track.” The healer grinned, thrilled beyond belief by the moment they were in. “I knew that!” Obi-Wan chuckled. “Of course you did.” A loud whistle from below caught their attention and the platform came to a sudden stop. Looking over the sides, the two men saw a security force standing in the opening of the Alderaan delegation docking point. Frowning, Hebsley carefully made his way back to the port. Obi-Wan leaned over and whispered, “How much trouble are we in?” The man smiled as a child would when finding some hidden treasure. “It’s nothing I haven’t faced before. I’m forever getting kicked out of this place.” The Best Of Intentions... by jedidas3 …The cabin itself was definitely smaller than the quarters he shared with Qui-Gon back at the Temple. There was a common room and kitchen combination that looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in several years. Two small bedrooms flanked the living area and a tiny refresher unit, barely big enough to turn around in sat at the back of the house. Chipped paint and furniture that had been covered made Obi-Wan wonder when how long it had actually been since anyone had stayed here. “What do you think?” Qui-Gon finally asked. “It’s…um…it’s quaint,” Obi-Wan replied, satisfied that he found the right word to describe their new abode. He took a step back in surprise as Qui-Gon laughed. “You have a gift for understatement, my Padawan. I don’t think ‘quaint’ is exactly how I would describe it,” Qui-Gon remarked. “I thought it sounded better than dirty,” the youth quipped. “I think with a little cleaning, it will be just fine,” Miranda interjected. The soul healer caught the glance that was exchanged between Master and Padawan. “A little cleaning?” Obi-Wan repeated. “Well, maybe a lot of cleaning,” the healer corrected herself as she got a better look at the dust that was caked on the nearby book shelf. “I guess you’re right. It’s better than some of the places that I’ve been in.” Obi-Wan walked over to look out the window, ignoring the gaze of his Master and the healer. He didn’t know why he let that last remark slip out. The youth was trying to forget about his past, but it seemed like he was constantly delving into it. Pushing these thoughts aside, Obi-Wan turned back around to face Master Ru’tan and Qui-Gon. “So, where do we start?” ~~~~~ “What are you afraid of, Xanatos?” Obi-Wan inquired with an eerie calmness. His hand moved to rest on the hilt of his lightsaber. Xanatos glared up at him saying, “Afraid? Why would I be afraid of you?” “Because you know that I’m going to destroy you.” “You’re going to destroy me? I find that difficult to believe.” “Believe it.” Obi-Wan closed his eyes as he continued to draw upon the energy of the Force surrounding him. The wind was now blowing so hard that it was difficult to stand up. The earth started to rumble louder as cracks began to appear in the dusty ground. The teen was amazed that he was able to keep upright as he pressed on towards Xanatos. He smiled as his tormentor fell to the ground and began crawling away from him. There was no doubt in Obi-Wan’s mind that Xanatos was truly afraid for his life. “Stop it!” Xanatos screamed over the howling wind. “You don’t know what you’re doing!” “I know exactly what I’m doing. I’ve done this before or don’t you remember? Don’t you remember that last time I was with you and your Master? Your Master forced you to take me back to Elad because he couldn’t handle my power. What makes him think he can handle it now? You told Elad to destroy me and he almost did. You told him to find a way to deplete my midichlorians and he did. You had him put me through hell and now it’s your turn!” ~~~~~ “Of course I’m going to worry about you. I love you.” Obi-Wan closed his eyes. She had said those three words that he longed to hear. Knowing that Siri loved him had kept him pushing forward when he had wanted to give up. “I love you, too,” he quietly assured her. “Then why do I feel as if there is a big but coming?” He shook his head. “There’s a possibility that I’ll be gone for at least a year, maybe more. Master Qui-Gon and Master Yoda are concerned that I will not be truly focused on my training because…” “Because of me,” she finished. “Because of how much I love you.” Obi-Wan ran his hand through his hair. “I thought I could do this, but I can’t lose you.” “You’ll never lose me,” Siri vowed. “The Jedi aren’t going to change their rules for us. We have to make a choice.” “I know.” The two Padawans sat in silence, neither one wanting to go any further on this path that they were being forced to walk. If Obi-Wan could have made time still so they wouldn’t have to face the truth, he would have without a second thought. He brushed a stray tear from Siri’s cheek. “Please don’t cry,” he pleaded. “I can’t help it. I know what we have to do and it’s breaking my heart. We have to say goodbye.” “No!” Obi-Wan cried out. “Not goodbye.” “We have to,” Siri argued. “No. If it means losing you…” -----signature----- Before Awards Schedule: Nominations: June 4 - June 15 Excerpt submission period: June 19 - June 29 Voting Period: July 3 - July 12 Ceremony: July 18
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Before_Awards_Sock Title: Fan Fiction Awards Sock: Before the Saga Registered: Nov '04	Date Posted: 7/5/08 1:01pm Subject: RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread - Date Edited: 7/15/08 8:13pm (1 edits total) Edited By: Before_Awards_Sock
	Most Underrated Serpent Spawn by AzureAngel2 On Aargonar Anakin Skywalker touches an amulet that is in possession of General A'Sharad Hett. Overwhelmed by empathic powers his mind travels back into the early historical roots of the Tusken raiders. He comes to know more of their fierce nature and their dark secrets. Looking closer at the amulet itself Anakin felt his heart beat in his chest very painful once more. It was a very simple, yet elegant thing. Very much alike the Japor stone that he had given Padmé so many ages ago. Hett went on talking, but Anakin paid no attention at all. His fingers moved closer and closer to the amulet, until the sun went out and the universe began to explode around him My story has many roots as I explain in my fanfic threat. But it was actually the following sentence from the mini-series TERRY PRACHETT´S HOGFATHER did trigger me back to writing in my spare time: "It was some time after this creation when most people forgot that the very oldest stories of the beginning are, sooner or later, about blood." In my fanfic I want one clear path in front of me with the main character Isabeau knowing as little as the reader. Her knowledge will grow in time. We experience times of peace with her: The ever blowing desert wind made the feathered leaves of the date tree tremble. I raised my arms high above my head, stretching my body lustfully. A soft meow escaped my throat. I just loved the peaceful moon hours in the open desert, especially here in the sanctuary of my favourite oasis. The never-ending intrigues of the serail were very far away then. Carefully I listened to the stories that the wind carried with him. I watched him stroking over the surface of the salt lake with his invisible hands. Get annoyed with her: It was a profane thought for me to bathe in the milk of a bantha. The morning milk of a fully grown cow was enough to feed an entire tribe of twenty people. How the women in papa’s homestead could bathe in it, I would never ever understand. They were obsessed with cleaning themselves. What was wrong of smelling of sand, blood, salt, stone, animal fur and the desert winds? Go into battle with her: This very movement made a huge male womp-rat jump straight into my way. He was an ugly thing. His hair had turned grey at some spots and there were scars all over his body. He had parts of his ear lobes missing. They were not more than shreds of skin. One of his eyes was also missing and a front tooth was splintered. Some instinct told me that this was the boss of the entire colony and the old battle veteran had come out to answer to my challenge. I pulled my lance out of the ground again and while I did so, he attacked with full force. And I had to admit that he was damn fast and flexible. His claws hit me more than once, cutting through the fabric of my camouflage suit and leaving ugly marks on my skin, but I was able to pay him back with my lance. That made him more and more furious. Hear wondrous things: “Mother Nature is indeed the most clever and talented architect of all. In the run of evolution she has created countless spirals, cherida: galactic mists, the destructive powers of a tornado, whirlpools, resting snake bodies in the undergrowth of the jungle, fern leaves, and glittering spider webs between the branches of the trees. Even the DNA molecules have their chair in the dance of creation. She is a living force that binds the universe together in its very essence.” Feel the dark side of the force: In her anger Solitaire was as beautiful and as frightening as a sandstorm. I stared at her with open mouth, prepared of getting my flesh torn from my bones. She jumped on her feet, raising her arms high above her head. I felt my throat getting tighter. Breathing became hard. “The bastard! Now his real loyalties show. I knew it, I knew it. Only he could be so bold.” Stars danced in front of my eyes. “He will pay for this. I will make this known to the queen!” My upper body became very heavy and suddenly my face lay in the sand. “She will demand blood for it!” Sand corns flooded my nostrils and made me choke even more. In the nearby future Isabeau will face extreme challenges, lose all that was known to her and find a new family somewhere else. The force will be with her. "The One Below" Emerges by Alasse_Earfalas start Yaddle turned her gaze back to the deep blackness of the pit in front of her. The long shadows that were cast by the setting sun made it seem all the more ominous. “Many steps, you say it will take,” she said quietly, her voice lightly quivering. “The first step, what is?” Yoda smiled. Flickers of the Yaddle he once knew were beginning to show. “To feel.” Yaddle suddenly realized why Yoda had given her this task. Returning to her prison, going back into that darkness that had claimed her for almost two hundred years, would force her to feel that despair and loneliness again. She realized now that in escaping that prison, she’d been running away from the emotions she’d felt there. She’d never let them go; she’d merely left them there. Her entire body was trembling as she stepped closer to the edge. She didn’t want to go back. She was afraid, though she knew her fears were unfounded. Master Yoda would be with her this time. But somehow, it still felt the same. Her fear glued her feet to the ground. She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t- She suddenly felt herself being shoved into the pit. Her body tumbled down the steep pile of rocks that had lead to her escape, then crashed on the hard, cold ground. Memories flooded her mind. The mocking guards, the sound of the rocks as they were piled over the hole to keep her trapped, the cold chill of the still air. They were all so clear and vivid. Tears began to flow. The despairing heartbreak of being trapped and isolated choked her heart. Yoda hopped into the hole behind her. The Force push he’d given her served two purposes. First, it actually got her into the pit. Second, it recreated what he assumed had happened the first time. He felt the chill of the air as his feet landed on the cold earth. He turned, using the Force to lift the stairway of rocks up and out of the hole, then carefully arranged them to cover the pit again. He had already informed Aaroc that he was going to do this, who had in turn informed the rest of the Kobans. He turned towards Yaddle. She was on her hands and knees, crying. It hurt him to see her like this, but he knew from experience that this was the best way to help her get past her fears and pain. … He stared off into the infinite blackness of the caves that sprouted from the pit. “How much exploring, have you done?” he asked quietly. Yaddle came to her knees. Hearing Yoda’s voice had somehow calmed her. The fear and pain of being trapped and alone were slowly thawing and dripping off of her frozen heart. “Not much. If too far from this section I went, lose sight of the light and lost my way, I would have.” She heard a sound that she hadn’t heard since Plovin Kut had been killed, almost two hundred years ago. It was the sharp sizzling, then light hum of an igniting lightsaber. She turned to see the bright green glow of Master Yoda’s lightsaber reflecting off his smiling face. “Lose your way now, you will not. Come.” She slowly rose to her feet and followed him. Every so often, she noticed, he would make a mark in the wall with his lightsaber, which was always in the shape of an arrow pointing in the direction they had come from. Wow, she thought. Really thinks things through, he does. Cautious he is. Perhaps this is why afraid, he is not? “Part of the reason, that is.” Yaddle stopped from surprise. “Heard my thoughts, you did?” Yoda laughed. “Of course. Think too loudly, you do.” He turned and winked at her, to make sure she knew he was kidding. Yaddle smiled. “So… why afraid, are you not?” “Why afraid, are you?” He cut another arrow into the wall. “Because been here, I have. Know the dangers of this place, I do.” “But with me you are. Too dangerous for me, are these caves?” She sighed. “No. But… memories, I have.” Ah, getting somewhere we are, Yoda thought. “What memories, do you have?” “Frightening ones. Ones that like to remember, I do not.” “Such as?” There was a pause. “Being swallowed alive.” Yoda stopped. Slowly, he turned to face her. The green light reflected off her very serious face and created highlights in her sad, frightened eyes. “By what?” A gurgling roar sounded in the distance. Yaddle’s eyes darted in the direction it had originated from, then flicked back to Yoda’s. “One of those.” end Kinetics by Rogue1-and-a-half Keltar watched the countryside roll away outside the speeder; the land was a quiet green, their own speeder the only one in sight. It felt good to be moving at a rapid clip again. The ship had indeed malfunctioned, the hyperdrive going in fits and starts that threatened to shake the ship apart if not dealt with. It had taken some time, but things had finally gotten fixed, but the time in hyperspace had almost gone slower than that out of it. Keltar had paced like a caged animal, much to Enk's bemusement. But now they were here at last and if the world on which he found himself was quiet, backwards and slow, the man driving their speeder was none of the above. The driver glanced in the mirror at Keltar, almost as if picking up the thought. "So, how do you find Sylvestrin?" he asked. Keltar nodded slowly. "After Coruscant, quite a change." "I'm sure," the driver said, grinning. His name was Dan Mytral; he was an officer in the security division of the capital city of Sylvestrin, which shared a name with the planet. The largest city on the planet, it was, but even at that, Keltar figured, the job of security officer had to be a fairly quiet one. He'd thrown himself into the Jedi's procedural manual with a zest found only in those thrilled with change and something new to do. Keltar had liked the man instantly. "So," Mytral continued, "I hope you'll tell your friends about the quiet little vacation spot you've found." "Of course," Keltar said. "Definitely a nice change of pace." "Wouldn't be too bad a deal to have another Jedi come over for a visit," Mytral said. "You're quite the celebrity around the station house." "First Jedi here?" Enk said. "Pretty sure," Mytral said. "This is all pretty new," he said. "We only joined the Republic last year." "Aha," Keltar said. "That explains something then; why the child wasn't picked up on earlier." "Sure," Mytral said. "Blood samples are part of the regimin around here. Lots of airborne diseases, thanks to the farming culture, so we test every child under the age of fifteen every year. But they only got integrated with the Republic computer systems a few months ago." "At which point, the midichlorian tests were done on all samples . . ." Enk said. "Exactly," Keltar said, leaning back. "What kept you out of the Republic so long?" Mytral shrugged. "Dunno, really. There are benefits to being out of it, you know?" "I'm sure there are," Keltar said. "If you never need peacekeepers or aid." "We just learned to handle things ourselves, I guess," Mytral said. "Crime rates in the basement; hope joining the Republic doesn't change that." "Trade should certainly pick up," Keltar said. "Mmmhmm," Mytral said. "Here we are." He steered the speeder off the road and into a long dirt path leading to a small house, carefully put together, unpretentious, made of mud and straw. Keltar didn't ask if Mytral had the paperwork; he knew he would. It would have been inconceivable for a detail to have slipped the detective's mind. The three got out of the speeder, the detective leading the way through the muddy yard. "Let me do the opening," Mytral said. "People around here, they aren't backwards exactly, but they take things from an old home folk better than an offworlder." "I understand," Keltar said. Mytral knocked on the door, a sharp, short burst of sound. After a long moment, the door creaked open and a man, clad in a simple farmer's garment stood before them. Behind him, Keltar saw a woman seated at the table; she appeared to be crying. No wonder, he thought; it was a huge decision, sending a child away for the rest of his life, even for a life you knew would be better than yours. "Glan Mellon?" Mytral said. "I'm Dan Mytral from the city security office. Here with the Jedi, Master Keltar and his padawan. Come to pick up your son." Keltar couldn't see Mytral's face, but he could hear the comforting smile in his voice. And then Mellon stammered something, a sentence that seemed to go on forever and Keltar felt the earth shift under his boots, felt the smile leak from Mytral's face, felt the shocked eyes of his padawan turn to him suddenly. For the first time in years, Keltar felt real fear. "The Jedi . . . but . . . the Jedi . . . they've been here . . ." "They've taken him already . . ." TBD -----signature----- Before Awards Schedule: Nominations: June 4 - June 15 Excerpt submission period: June 19 - June 29 Voting Period: July 3 - July 12 Ceremony: July 18
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Before_Awards_Sock Title: Fan Fiction Awards Sock: Before the Saga Registered: Nov '04	Date Posted: 7/5/08 1:02pm Subject: RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread - Date Edited: 7/17/08 2:57am (10 edits total) Edited By: Before_Awards_Sock
	Most Underrated continued The White Twi'lek by Katana_Geldar Half an hour later, Jali and Xhen left an airtaxi and walked for a few blocks. They had left Eastport and were in the harsher environs of one Coruscant’s industrial sectors. Jali could feel the heat on his face as they walked, several times he wiped his brow free of sweat and he could feel more running down the back of his neck and down his spine. Was he doing the right thing? Handing himself over like this? It was what Nuada would have wanted, wasn't it? Jali knew he was either being very brave or very foolish by doing this. One thing was for sure, this wasn’t about Lucen Vertey’s killer anymore. He’d done that, Xhen was a murderer, but he had been forced into his role in a similar way that Tira had been. Nuada had played on their weaknesses, making them act out of sheer desperation. And it wasn’t even about Antiene’s investigation about the illegal weapons anymore, as that was only one thread of many that led to the centre. And that, Jali hoped, was where he was going right now, the centre of everything to stop things like this from happening. Just as they passed an electrical grid a long black airspeeder slowed to a stop next to them. The doors opened and out jumped two burly Klatooinians, the seized Jali and forced him into the speeder. A third figure, an eyeless human in a dark suit, emerged and spoke with Xhen. “You’ve done better than I thought you would,” Nuada Vekstar said to him. “You can go now, we’ll be in touch.” “But, I thought you…” Xhen faltered. “You can go now,” Nuada repeated. Xhen didn’t protest twice. Soon enough, Jali was sitting between the two thugs with Nuada sitting across from him. The speeder raced through the deserted streets before taking to the air. “Did you really have to come all this way just to pick me up, Nuada?” Jali asked impatiently. The Miralukan made an impatient gesture. “Good to see you still have manners, Dawler.” He smiled. “There’s something I've been waiting to give you.” He signalled to the Klatooinians. The first one punched Jali in the groin, the second hit him in the stomach. As Jali collapsed in pain, Nuada continued talking. “Now, I know what it is that you’re doing,” he said calmly. “And seeing as you won’t stop, I thought it was time we had a talk.” He paused for a few minutes. “You never stop, do you Dawler? It doesn’t matter who tells you.” “It’s not like that,” Jali groaned, “but you’re not going to make me.” Nuada leaned forward and grabbed Jali’s collar. “Whatever your course is, the plots you put there go right in my direction!” he shouted. “You think I like talking to scum like you? Bah!” “Perhaps it makes you feel more comfortable,” rasped Jali, his air rapidly running out through Nuada’s grip. The Miralukan threw Jali back, Jali collapsed in his seat and gasped for air. “So,” Nuada continued, “since you won’t listen to what’s good for you, I’ll take you to meet some friends of mine.” “Aurek?” This was what Jali had been hoping for. Nuada laughed out loud. “Someone sure keeps you up to speed, Dawler,” he sneered. “You probably won’t get to see Aurek, not unless you’re very lucky.” He took out a black cigarette case and opened it. He lit one for himself then offered the case to Jali. Jali shook his head. “You take the first draw,” he said. Nuada smiled again, removed the cigarette from his mouth and lit another. After a quick inhale he passed it on to Jali. “You know, Dawler,” he said casually as he put his own cigarette back in his mouth, “I reckon you’re smarter than I gave you credit for.” He inhaled deeply. “And that’s not a compliment.” Preservation by Jedi Peregrine “Wilch!” The human smiled. “Hello, old friend.” “Listen, I really should apologize for the way I acted earlier.” “No, I’m the one who was wrong. These visions are enough to drive me insane and I’m taking it out on the people who deserve it the least.” Wilch gently pushed the rest of the way into Plort’s apartment and closed the door behind him. “I spoke to Qui-Gon earlier today.” It was hard to shield his emotions, especially from someone with the depth of his mental connection he shared with Plort. It was pretty apparent he hadn’t shielded enough though, from the sharp pang of regret and pain that that stabbed his chest. “Was it that bad?” The dually modulated voices from both Ithorian’s mouths made for a strangely comforting tone. The knot inside his throat prevented him from speaking, so he simply nodded. After a moment he regained control. “After our discussion, I’m more sure than ever that something terrible is going to happen. What makes it harder is that I won’t be able to obtain Masterhood. I’m leaving.” “Leaving?” the Ithorian exclaimed, his puzzlement obvious. Wilch nodded again. “I’m afraid I’m pulling a Qui-Gon. I’m trusting the Force’s visions to play out exactly as they’re shown to me; if they do, the Jedi are headed for disaster. That means I need to do whatever I can to safeguard our order.” “And if the visions aren’t correct?” He shrugged. “Going into seclusion and giving up my Masterhood is a small price to pay for the chance to keep our knowledge and secrets safe.” “Well you’re not going alone.” The Ithorian put his too-large hand on Wilch’s shoulder. “You’ve talked about leaving the Order before, and I always told you I wanted to go where you go.” “I know. I would welcome your company, but this is my burden to bear. You are a great Jedi and I hate to take your service away from them.” Plort scoffed. “Bah, I’m no diplomat. They rarely need someone like me.” He patted his multiple lightsabers appreciatively. “Well, if you’re sure, grab some clothes and some empty data cubes. I want to store as much Jedi knowledge as we can.” Seeing his friend was already ready to leave, Wilch smiled. “Let’s go.” In moments they were in the Jedi Archives. Plort used a couple different terminals for added speed as he started copying files relating to the Order, he downloaded them all; from its training procedures to histories of Jedi accomplishments and descriptions and knowledge of Jedi powers. “This is going to take a while,” Plort commented. “There’s a stack of empty data cubes, use them if you need to,” Wilch said, pointing in one corner of the huge room. Bright lights and pleasant frescoes helped brighten up the room. Various species of sentients bustled around, making sure everybody’s research needs were being met. “I have one last thing to do.” ********* Wilch stretched out his feelings, trying to sense if Yoda was in his quarters. Since he wasn’t, the human went on in. As always, the Master’s door was unlocked. The flimsplast of fond farewell he had written for Yoda, he set on the small bed. Slowly he slid off his robe and hesitated before dropping that neatly next to the letter. He stared at the robe for a goodly amount of time. It was much harder to leave behind than he thought it would be. Memories of when he first earned the right to be called a Jedi and wear the robe were sweet, and without a doubt the proudest moment of his forty three year life. He chided himself for his emotions and nearly jumped out of his skin when a voice from behind spoke. “Take that with you, you should.” Heart pounding in surprise, Wilch turned to see Yoda, leaning heavily on his short cane. “You know?” Slowly, the green head dipped a nod. “Agree with your actions I do not. The Order and yourself you are harming in your departure.” “I know.” He knelt a respectful distance away so he could look in Yoda’s eyes. He meant no condescension by kneeling; Wilch felt that this conversation should be made eye to eye. “But if I’m right, I could be the only one who saves the knowledge of the Jedi for future generations. Even if the chance of my vision coming true is miniscule, it’s one I’m willing to take.” For almost a minute, Yoda said nothing as he contemplated Wilch’s words. Finally Yoda broke his silence. “A Jedi always will you be. Go with the Force, and beware the Dark side.” Wilch cut off his sigh of relief before it could sneak out. He stood and bowed deeply. “May the Force be with you always, Master Yoda.” Distortion by Neon Star There he was. Completely unguarded, a rarity considering the boy was normally a walking arsenal. Even now, he could see the faint tell tale signs of a blaster along one hip, the outline of a dagger at one arm, under the thick, rich blue robes the boy wore. He never knew why such a youngling was so protective, though, it wouldn’t save him this time. The boy was only sixteen, right on the verge of manhood. On Telos, he would be a man in another year, in some places, he was already so. Either way, he would never reach beyond this point. At least, not if the trespasser succeeded in what he had come to do. It wasn’t the boy’s fault; he had nothing to do with how he was made, or who had made him. He didn’t choose his parents. He hadn’t chosen to look like one, and act like the other. And he had come out to be almost a mirror image of the Father intent on killing him. That is what sealed his fate. His mother had tried to protect him, to hide him. But she was no longer there, and the boy had nearly thrown himself out of hiding, latching onto a wealthy patron, and through him, announcing to the galaxy that he was Xanatos Crion’s son. If only he had kept his mouth shut, he might have lived. Very, very lightly was the muzzle pressed to boy’s temple, nuzzling in among the thick, raven strands. Careful, ever so careful. He didn’t want to wake the boy. Didn’t want the child to see his executioner. The slightest shift of that delicate body, eyes lined faintly with rings that signaled not enough sleep, scrunched, before with a sleepy sound, the boy settled again. He almost regretted killing him. He was a beautiful child, with her build, slender though obviously strong in the lines of his body. With his Father’s face, just a bit more curved in boyhood, baby fat still clinging to cheeks that would have eventually hardened into pleasing lines. He would be the desire of anyone that saw him, if he reached adulthood. It wasn’t the boy’s fault. But his existence endangered everything. The trigger slowly pulled back. A single shot would be all it took. If only he hadn’t found the child so. Unprotected, something so rare with such a jealous patron nearby, who normally had guards about the boy. Underground leaders always were so very possessive. Really, considering the man, maybe he was doing the child a favor, nothing good would come out of such a binding relationship. But to find him like this… completely unaware, innocently sleeping in the sun, in what should have been a safe place for him…. Though, no place was safe from the one that had deemed to murder him. He almost regretted it…. Blue eyes opened drowsily, to meet his for those few moments. His pause had lost him the opportunity to do this without the boy being aware… “Father?” such confusion, such tenderness despite that this was the first time they had seen each other face to face. “Goodnight, Granta,” Jedi Knight Xanatos Crion pulled the trigger. Heart in a Cage by Meredith_Kenobi “I have found for you a wife,” Queen Mother Pola Kla informed her son as they walked arm in arm through the palace gardens. All Hapans were lovers of nature and all things that grew from the earth. The Palace gardens reflected this and were bursting with beautiful rare flowers, fruits, and vegetables. They were cared for only by the most handsome of men servants who were as much a part of the display as the greenery. Rutan looked at the Queen Mother unhappily from the corner of his eyes. She was looking straight ahead and would not meet his eye. “Have you now?” Pola Kla smiled briefly, a display of pearl-like teeth behind painted lips. “I will hear none of your nonsense about ‘love’, Rutan. You are my only heir—the heir to my throne—and you will marry a woman worthy of such an honor. Whether you love her or not is hardly an issue. She will be of high birth and clean blood; her family will be honored and renowned by all; she will be wealthy and well-learned; her intellect will be superior to most; she will know many languages, and will be well-spoken and skilled in the art of politics; she will rule our world with a steady hand, with you as her advisor.” She patted the hand that was looped in hers and he had to fight not to flinch at her touch. “I believe I have found such a woman.” “Who is she?” Pola Kla smiled cunningly. “You’ve not met her.” She paused suddenly to admire a blooming white flower; thousands of tiny petals had blossomed into a bundle nearly as large as her head, framing a center of brilliant red. “Oh, look at this beauty!” She took her time to smell and admire it. Rutan tried to hide his impatience. “Her name?” The Queen Mother plucked the flower and held it in her hands. She began to pluck the petals one by one. “She is my sister’s daughter, your sweet cousin.” Rutan raised an eyebrow. “If she were sweet, you would not have chosen her.” The Queen Mother smelled the flower delicately. A smile tugged at her lips. “Her name is Cumin Li.” “Cumin Li. When do I meet her?” “Meet her?” The Queen Mother laughed coldly. “What a notion. When or if you meet the woman before you marry is hardly the issue. This is not one of those silly novels you read and write, my son, which is a vulgar pastime and is clearly unhealthy for your young impressionable mind.” She took one of his hands in her own and examined the dark stains on them that before he had been taking such care to hide. She snorted in disgust. “Why can you not use a datapad to write in, like a normal person?” Rutan quickly pulled his hand away. “I like to write with a pen, with my own hand; somehow it makes my writing come more from my heart, my very soul.” Pola Kla leaned forward mockingly, pouting her lips. “Always the poet.” “Datapads are so impersonal,” Rutan continued, ignoring her words. He added a certain stress to his next sentence by leaning forward slightly. “Just like arranged marriages.” The Queen Mother arched an eyebrow and looked quite displeased. “Unbreakable arrangements have already been made.” With each word, she plucked more petals from the large flower in her hands. “Papers have been signed, and promises made. You may be a hopeless romantic, Rutan—” She placed the empty flower stem in his hands. “—but you are now spoken for.” -----signature----- Before Awards Schedule: Nominations: June 4 - June 15 Excerpt submission period: June 19 - June 29 Voting Period: July 3 - July 12 Ceremony: July 18
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Before_Awards_Sock Title: Fan Fiction Awards Sock: Before the Saga Registered: Nov '04	Date Posted: 7/5/08 1:02pm Subject: RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread - Date Edited: 7/15/08 5:46pm (4 edits total) Edited By: Before_Awards_Sock
	Best Response To A Challenge Into Another Day by Jinngerbread A/N: In this AU, Qui-Gon is a fresh-faced knight, 22 years old and receives a gift for his knighting/birthday. Kyran bought this journal for me, so I might as well humor him and actually use this. I’ve never been much for journal writing but perhaps it will be useful. Writing is good therapy, or at least the givers of this diary claimed. Yesterday I was knighted. It was also my twentieth birthday. I endured a good deal of ribbing from Sian and Kyran. Kyran said something about this journal keeping me busy with all the spare time I would have now. Spare time. I’m not convinced such a thing exists, myself. They are both knights, so perhaps they know differently. Maybe. Sian wasn’t helping my case by agreeing with Kyran, rather loudly, I might add. His gift was a stylus to write in this journal. I tried to tell them that I would be busy with missions and would have no time to write, but my remarks fell on deaf ears. ~~ Today I moved out of the rooms I used to share with my Master. Even at my knighting ceremony I suppose it took time to actually sink in even with the party we held afterwards, and the gifts I received. It feels more real now that I'm truly a knight and not a padawan anymore. I'm not quite sure what I think about that just yet. It makes me nervous, even as I am looking forward to the future and what it holds. My master won't be there to fix problems anymore, or come after me if I get in trouble. It's a definite heavier responsibility than I've ever felt before. I hope I find myself equal to the task and the confidence that the Masters have placed in me. Speaking of the move, I found a few things I had been looking for as I packed them away, and many more things that I didn't need at all. I never realized how many things I had acquired on various missions over the years. I tend not to want to throw things away, that have sentimental value, or that I find interesting, because you never know when something will be useful later, but on the other hand, I did clean out two heaping cans full of old things that I could honestly not remember why I had kept them at the time, only that I did. It made the move to my own rooms much easier, I must say, after I cut down on the acquisitions. During the move, my friends came to help me. As we were moving boxes, Sian asked if I'd used the journal yet. The smug look on his face as I said yes, though, almost made me wish I hadn't. Oh well, at least I didn't tell him how nice his pen was. I pretended nonchalance, but I don't think he fell for it, the way he grinned at me when I told him I had used the stylus also. Blast. The Council has asked to see me tomorrow. They sure don't waste time, do they? I'm actually rather curious about what they have in store; a mission perhaps, or some other Temple assignment that they would consider a newly knighted padawan good at. I suppose I'll have to wait to find out. Birthright by UnderCoverJedi “Is the Force speaking to you?” Qui-Gon asked, coming to stand beside his apprentice. Their shoulders brushed against each other and Qui-Gon could feel the tension quivering in the young man’s muscles. “The Force?” There was a snort of laughter from the Padawan. “I don’t think so, Master.” “How do you know?” Qui-Gon asked with a slight smile. “The voice of the Force is sometimes subtle…hard to identify. It is only when we are still and quiet in ourselves that we can hear what the Force is telling us.” “I’m not a very still and quiet person.” “So I’ve noticed,” Qui-Gon answered dryly. “I’m a Jedi; we tend to notice these things.” A smile appeared briefly on the young face, only to flicker away like a candle flame. The two were silent for a moment, and then the apprentice spoke. “Do you ever think that you weren’t meant to be a Jedi, Master? That some nosey medic found midichlorians in your blood and you got swept up in policies and procedures that brought you to the Temple way before you were old enough to decide what you wanted for yourself?” “I never quite thought of it like that,” Qui-Gon conceded. “An interesting point of view, I must admit.” “Well?” “Well what?” “Do you ever think you weren’t meant to be a Jedi? That there is something else out there for you, maybe someone* with whom you were meant to share your life?” There was intense curiosity in the young man’s voice. Young man? Qui-Gon mused. Closer to a boy most days, he admitted. Still, there were many years ahead of them for him to mature - to be seasoned into the Jedi Qui-Gon knew he could be. “I think I am exactly where I was destined to be,” Qui-Gon replied. “I was born with enough midichlorians to become a Jedi for a reason. If I was not meant to be a Jedi, they would not have been present within me…or I would have gone unnoticed for one reason or another.” He clasped his hands together. “As it was, something brought me to the attention of the Jedi and I was deemed worthy by the birthright of what flowed in my veins.” He smiled. “Just as it is your birthright.” “So you are content with your lot as a Jedi?” The question was more than mere curiosity; Qui-Gon sensed the boy’s intent interest in his answer. He did not want the correct answer, the one that the Council would have him give him. His Padawan wanted the truth – whatever that might be. “I am content.” He said the words with no hesitation or reservation. He was happy with his life as a Jedi, and if he had ever experienced regrets, they were few and fleeting. “Are you content, Padawan?” “Yes, Master,” the young man answered quickly. Then he sighed and shrugged. “Most of the time I am…I suppose.” He bit at his lower lip and continued to look out at the horizon. “Not always,” he confessed quietly. “Not always.” The Master heard pain in the Padawan’s words – pain and doubt. Qui-Gon pondered the young man’s answer. It was not the answer a proper Jedi would have given, but he himself was not a proper Jedi – not in the strictest sense of the word. He had always felt as if he was one with the Force; he could feel it pulsing in his veins, permeating every cell of his body, filling his heart when he was burdened. This bond with the Force brought him peace and serenity – and contentment. It was a gift he would have wished for his Padawan above all others. Yet, it was not his to offer. It was not something that could be given, it had to be found; no one else could do the finding for him. He turned and saw intent blue eyes focused on him. There was a need for reassurance in the young man’s gaze and Qui-Gon smiled. “You are a gifted Jedi, my young Padawan,” Qui-Gon said. “Only the Force knows if you are on the path you are meant to walk. One day, you shall get the assurance you desire.” “Yes, Master,” he replied obediently. The doubt was still there, as was the pain. Beneath them, however, there trembled the barest note of anger. Qui-Gon put his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Come, Xanatos,” he said. “There is much left to do.” The Master thumbed on his saber and the brilliant green blade sprung up between them. It cast an eerie light on the young man’s face, lending a brittle shine to turbulent blue eyes. “Yes, Master,” Xanatos replied. His saber hummed in the quiet. It Always Rains on Dxun by CommanderDWH Where once was light Now Darkness falls Where once was love Love is no more These tears we cry Are falling rain For all the lies You told us The hurt, the blame! And we will weep To be so alone We are lost! We can never go home * * * Ielyn Larkin angrily brushed wet strands of dark hair from her face. She'd stumbled out of her ship, looking for somewhere to go. Anywhere to go, really. After the battle at Malachor V- She shook her head. Even thinking about that battle seemed anathema to her brain, which was currently threatening to melt and ooze out her ears. Blinking, she reassessed her surroundings. Dxun. She'd landed on Dxun. It was raining. Dammit, it always rained on Dxun. Should've remembered that from the war. Of course, she'd been preoccupied. There was an odd familiarity to the forest, even though she had no way of knowing whether or not she'd actually landed there. Those records were on another ship, one that hadn't been donated by the Jedi as they'd told her not to let the door hit her on her way out. She squeezed her eyes shut, all she could feel was the water pelting her. No life, nothing. It was all wrong. She knew she should be able to feel something- anything. The grass beneath her feet. The trees surrounding her. She couldn't even feel herself in the Force. It was like staring into a black hole. Her memories, however, were another story entirely. They were so vivid she would swear she could almost hear the voices of her fellow Jedi around her. The camaraderie, the trust they'd had was nothing short of incredible. Especially knowing what they were getting into. Malachor V was bad, but Dxun was arguably worse. It was certainly longer. But they had to win. Dxun was the Mandalorian fortress, their primary territory. If the Mandalorians could be forced off the moon, and off Onderon, then the Republic would finally have the upper hand. Their leader, the Revanchist. He'd been so sure of his plan, and she'd followed his orders. Even with her command depleted and scattered. Even more of them died in that attempt. They'd been there for months. Five bloody, violent months of every tactic they could come up with, from all-out space assaults to guerrilla warfare. The only upside was that they knew they weren't harming any civilians, because there weren't any to be found. Just Mandalorians. Scores and scores of Mandalorians. And cannoks. Damn those cannoks, they ate everything, including a couple of lightsabers. She instinctively reached down to make sure hers was still there, before she remembered that she no longer had one. "You are exiled; you are a Jedi no longer." Master Vash's words echoed in her head. Exile was extreme. It just wasn't done, and was generally self-imposed. That's what they'd always said, all those years. Until she and the others left to defend what was left of the Republic. "You should never have gone!" Ielyn shook her head. She was falling apart. No wonder the Jedi had cast her out. Though, they had no idea she was tearing at the seams. No, they'd found other reasons to send her on her way. Her 'bloodlust' and 'thirst for war' seemed to come up often enough. Actually, she found such accusations laughable. Anybody who wanted to go to war was certifiably insane. But there's a long way between wanting to go to war and recognizing that sometimes it's not avoidable. It is not the Jedi way. Ielyn snorted. That was an easy enough platitude to hide behind. But she sure as hell knew that sitting around and meditating while people died also wasn't the 'Jedi way.' It couldn't be. That was the part she never understood. The Jedi Council would rant about the Dark Side, and the dangers of violence, and how aggression wasn't the way of the Jedi. Easy enough for them to say. So long as all they heard were the newscasts, they didn't have to recognize the reality of the war. Ielyn, on the other hand, felt everything. Everywhere she'd ever been. Every planet where she'd made a friend. She shared a bond with each of them, and every time one of them died, or was hurt, she felt it. Sure, it was just as bad going into battle with her fellow Jedi, but at least she was doing something about it. Feeling became her motivation to succeed. Until Malachor V. At the Foot of the Bed by VaderLVR64 Obi-Wan looked at his Master with some concern. Qui-Gon Jinn, it seemed, had lost his mind, at least if Obi-Wan’s observations were correct. The normally reserved and serene Jedi Master sat across the table, grinning widely though Obi-Wan knew of no reason for his Master to be quite so cheerful. “Master?” he asked carefully. “Yes, Padawan?” Qui-Gon returned. “Is…is something…wrong?” Obi-Wan asked warily. Besides the fact that you’ve got a Padawan you did not want? They had not been Master and Padawan for very long, and the boy could not shake the memory of their rather troubled start as a pair. Qui-Gon had not wanted to take on another Padawan, and it had only been through the direct intervention of the Force itself that he had done so. “Wrong, Padawan?” Qui-Gon asked in obvious surprise. “What would make you think that?” You’re sitting there grinning like a madman, Master, that’s all. “Nothing, Master, nothing at all,” Obi-Wan murmured and then pushed his plate away. “I’m not all that hungry, if you don’t mind.” Qui-Gon stared at him. “Not hungry? I’d better call the Healers if Obi-Wan Kenobi isn’t hungry,” he replied with yet a wider grin. “No, no, I’m fine,” Obi-Wan said hurriedly. “Just not hungry, that’s all.” The two considered each other over the space of the small table for a moment. “Very well then, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said at last. “Just put your dishes in the cleaning unit and get ready for bed.” “Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan answered dutifully. “I will.” With one more assessing glance at his Master, Obi-Wan did as he was told. When he got to his room he closed the door behind him with no small measure of relief. “He’s finally gone over the edge,” Obi-Wan whispered and then immediately felt guilty for such a traitorous thought. He would clean his teeth later, he mused. After Qui-Gon had gone to bed. Obi-Wan toed off his boots and placed them in a corner, then he shrugged out of his tunic, removed his leggings and slipped on some sleep shorts and a shirt. As he did so, he glanced at the chrono beside his bed. “Festival of Life,” he whispered. Tomorrow was the first day of the Festival, which would last five days. When he had been in the crèche, the younglings had gotten some small treat on each of the five days. When they became Padawans, they were told, it would be up to their Masters if the Festival was to be celebrated. Apparently, Qui-Gon Jinn did not celebrate the Festival of Life – and that meant that Obi-Wan would not either. Pushing aside his small regret for the lighthearted celebration, he closed his eyes. I’ll get up in a few moments and clean my teeth, he thought sleepily. Just a few minutes… Obi-Wan fell asleep. ~~~~~~~~~~ Obi-Wan woke slowly, wondering why he felt a bit depressed. Sun shone in through the tiny window of his room, only partially blocked by the towering buildings that rose all around the Temple. Sliding out of bed, he padded to the window and peered out at the day. Bright and sunny and beautiful. And the First Day of the Festival of Lights. Today was the Gift of the Past Days, he thought. He tried to tell himself that he was not disappointed that there would be no celebration in their quarters, for he had nothing to give Qui-Gon in return. Yes, it was for the best. Then he turned and saw a small package, wrapped in palest blue. Unable to help himself, he laughed and ran to the bed, picking up the package and turning it over and over in his hands. Then he quickly untied the string and looked inside the box. A small bit of amber, golden and softly glowing in the morning light and he could feel how ancient it was, how timeless. There was a note on flimsy, it was unsigned. Our past does not define us, it merely illuminates the paths that are ours to choose. ~~~~~~~~~~~ “Thank you, Master,” Obi-Wan murmured as he slid into his seat for morning meal. Qui-Gon looked up, his expression curious. “For what, Padawan?” “The gift, Master,” Obi-Wan stumbled a bit over the words. “That you left on my bed.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Qui-Gon muttered dismissively, but Obi-Wan did not miss the slight, playful smile that tugged on his Master’s lips. “I don’t like gifts much myself,” he said with a stern glance. Obi-Wan got the message. No gifts. Maybe next year, when he knew his Master better. He could surprise Qui-Gon and then they would be even. -----signature----- Before Awards Schedule: Nominations: June 4 - June 15 Excerpt submission period: June 19 - June 29 Voting Period: July 3 - July 12 Ceremony: July 18
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Before_Awards_Sock Title: Fan Fiction Awards Sock: Before the Saga Registered: Nov '04	Date Posted: 7/5/08 1:03pm Subject: RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread - Date Edited: 7/10/08 1:23pm (3 edits total) Edited By: Before_Awards_Sock
	Best Songfic You’ll Be In My Heart by Glenstorm Without thought Qui-Gon closed his arms around the child and was surprised by an overwhelming sense of familiarity and… rightness. Mystified Qui-Gon wondered again at how Ben had managed to link with him, to see what he had been trying to do with the Force and emulate it. Such a feat usually required a strong bond between a full Master and his Padawan. Qui-Gon looked down at the boy. He didn’t even know the child’s real name and Ben did not know his, Qui-Gon realised suddenly. A sleepy voice cut though his musings. “Know who you are.” Startled, Qui-Gon asked. “Who am I, Ben?” A slight knowing smile touched the small lips. “You my Mast’a.” Qui-Gon’s breath caught. The tall Jedi stared but Ben said no more. My Master. Could it be possible? Whatever would Xanatos say? Ben shivered slightly and Qui-Gon tightened his hold. Setting his questions aside, he simply let himself marvel at the tiny form next to him, for there was no doubt in his mind that here in his arms lay the makings of an extraordinary Jedi. A Jedi to whom he owed his very existence -- with or without his front teeth. “Rest, Ben,” he said above the sounds of their rescue. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.” Impossibly Ben replied. //Know.// Qui-Gon smiled and let him rest against his heart. * For one so small You seem so strong My arms will hold you, Keep you safe and warm This bond between us Can’t be broken I will be here Don't you cry * Exhaustion dogged Qui-Gon’s steps as he made his way back from the Council debriefing. The mission to Bandomeer had tested him severely. Both physically and emotionally. For on that unlikely backwater planet, he had been forced to confront his own bitter past and finally face up to the approaching future. And now all he wanted to do was retire, reflect and… sleep. But no, he had one more duty to perform. A most important ceremony. Silently he glanced over his shoulder at the young boy following softly in his footsteps. His senses told him that his new Padawan was also having trouble fighting sleep’s siren call, even as he carried his small bag of belongings to his new home and life in Qui-Gon’s quarters. The mission had been no easier on Obi-Wan than it had been on him. Maybe harder, due in no small part to himself. Letting the shame for his behaviour wash through him, Qui-Gon promised himself that he would try his hardest to set things right for this boy. Starting this instant. By the time he was finished this evening Obi-Wan Kenobi would no longer have any doubts as to where he belonged. The pair reached the Master’s quarters and Qui-Gon palmed the door open. He had not stayed in these rooms for a long time and was not surprised when he was greeting by a cool, impersonal atmosphere. The homely feel that the place had enjoyed in years past was gone. Obi-Wan shifted uneasily beside him, clearly uncomfortable with being in Qui-Gon’s private living space. Qui-Gon frowned. He realised suddenly that he was standing next to a virtual stranger. For all the hardships they had faced together on Bandomeer, they hadn’t really had the chance to get to know one another. At least not enough to be comfortable in silence. Which was stretching now. Attempting to ease Obi-Wan’s sudden shyness, Qui-Gon stepped forward placing a warm had on the boy’s slim shoulder. “Welcome home, Obi-Wan,” he said gently. The boy gave him a shy smile and Qui-Gon squeezed his arm in response. Stepping away he pointed to a doorway on the left side of the living space. “Now, that door there leads to the Padawan’s room. It is yours now, Obi-Wan. Everything you need you will find in there.” He pointed ahead. “Through there lies the kitchen. A place that I’m guessing will now need constant restocking.” Obi-Wan flushed and Qui-Gon smiled. As a growing thirteen-year-old boy it was no secret that Obi-Wan was a living food vacuum. “And finally that door to the right leads to my room. This is the living space and I hope you will find it comfortable.” Finishing his brief tour, Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan. “Now why don’t you go and unpack. Make the place your own and then have a wash. Pay special attention to your hair.” Obi-Wan looked a little confused but nevertheless moved quickly to obey his new Master, walking awkwardly across the living space--in completely the wrong direction. “The other left, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon redirected gently. Flushing right up to the roots of his hair Obi-Wan quickly changed direction and vanished into the Padawan’s room… For Good by Jedi-Gon THUNK! Thunkthunk THUNK! Thunkthunk THUNK! A sigh. Without much effort or thought, Obi-Wan bounced the ball off the wall, his face carved into in a mask of sadness, his mind drawn within himself. He was helpless, useless, and alone. No contact with Qui-Gon, nor Guerra, nor the Force. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, letting the ball bounce away. His life was meaningless, now. All he had left was three meals a day, two daily hours of rec time, and perhaps a few books to read on occasion. Nothing more. Sighing, Obi-Wan reached up behind his right ear and unpinned the long strands of hair that used to be his braid. They fell down, stick straight ginger, over his shoulder. He idly fingered them, wishing that they were still woven in that ever familiar braided shape. He thought about rebraiding it, briefly, but decided against it. That would be not only dishonoring to himself, but to Qui-Gon, and the entire Order. The young man let out a huff. As if he hadn't dishonored the Order enough already. With a groan, Obi-Wan fell to the floor, his side pressed up against cold duracrete. Cold. It was the only feeling he would have for the rest of his miserably meaningless life. Inside, Obi-Wan wanted to cry – to let it all go. But he couldn't. He felt so void and dead inside that even tears wouldn't have helped. “This is the time where you must be strongest, Obi-Wan. In your deepest, darkest hour, you must stand firm. Strong and enduring; a Jedi.” Seemingly out of nowhere, Qui-Gon's words sounded in Obi-Wan's mind. The same words he had said after they returned to the temple... Obi-Wan's already emotionless eyes distanced themselves into an unseeing glaze. He knew Qui-Gon was right. He shouldn't be having this pity party. He should be remaining a strong Jedi, like he was trained to. He should be. He would be, from now on. He let out a sigh. Qui-Gon truly didn't realize just how large of an imprint he had left on his former apprentice, did he? You'll be with me, Like a hand print on my heart. And now whatever way our stories end, I know you have re-written mine, By being my friend... Obi-Wan knew that there was no way Qui-Gon could hear him, not with the chip that Obi-Wan had in his neck, but, nonetheless, Obi-Wan still tried. He closed his eyes, imagining what it was like when he and Qui-Gon had communicated mentally. In his imagination, he told just how much Qui-Gon had taught him – how much he had affected his life. Like a ship blown from its mooring, By a wind off the sea. Like a seed dropped by a sky bird, In a distant wood. Who can say if I've been changed for the better? Obi-Wan sat up straighter now, his eyes possessing a determined glint. Whether the Jedi Master knew it or not, Qui-Gon had irreversibly changed Obi-Wan. Perhaps it was his stubbornness, perhaps it was his strength, or perhaps it was his steel-eyed determination. But because I knew you... As the skies of Coruscant darkened over the Jedi temple, Qui-Gon held a rock in his hand – deep crimson flickering in the depths of black sheen. He ran gentle hands over the round stone as he stood by a window. It had been his rock for so many years – but it was different now. Obi-Wan had left an imprint on it that couldn't be altered. A bit like how he had effected his master, Qui-Gon thought. He was different; changed forever. Sighing sadly, the big Jedi looked out at the nighttime sky. Because I knew you... Obi-Wan looked out through his small window, at the skies. Was Qui-Gon seeing the same stars as he was? He hoped he was. It was an odd sort of connection that gave him comfort. I have been changed... Not drawing his eyes away from the window, Obi-Wan clutched the bead at his chest. He would be a Jedi. A strong, enduring Jedi, just like his master. ...For good. Obi-Wan's eyes sparkled with the same maverick glint that Qui-Gon's had. Force only knew what was going to happen. But whatever his future, Obi-Wan had been changed; for better or worse. It Always Rains on Dxun by Commander_DWH Where once was light Now Darkness falls Where once was love Love is no more These tears we cry Are falling rain For all the lies You told us The hurt, the blame! And we will weep To be so alone We are lost! We can never go home * * * Ielyn Larkin angrily brushed wet strands of dark hair from her face. She'd stumbled out of her ship, looking for somewhere to go. Anywhere to go, really. After the battle at Malachor V- She shook her head. Even thinking about that battle seemed anathema to her brain, which was currently threatening to melt and ooze out her ears. Blinking, she reassessed her surroundings. Dxun. She'd landed on Dxun. It was raining. Dammit, it always rained on Dxun. Should've remembered that from the war. Of course, she'd been preoccupied. There was an odd familiarity to the forest, even though she had no way of knowing whether or not she'd actually landed there. Those records were on another ship, one that hadn't been donated by the Jedi as they'd told her not to let the door hit her on her way out. She squeezed her eyes shut, all she could feel was the water pelting her. No life, nothing. It was all wrong. She knew she should be able to feel something- anything. The grass beneath her feet. The trees surrounding her. She couldn't even feel herself in the Force. It was like staring into a black hole. Her memories, however, were another story entirely. They were so vivid she would swear she could almost hear the voices of her fellow Jedi around her. The camaraderie, the trust they'd had was nothing short of incredible. Especially knowing what they were getting into. Malachor V was bad, but Dxun was arguably worse. It was certainly longer. But they had to win. Dxun was the Mandalorian fortress, their primary territory. If the Mandalorians could be forced off the moon, and off Onderon, then the Republic would finally have the upper hand. Their leader, the Revanchist. He'd been so sure of his plan, and she'd followed his orders. Even with her command depleted and scattered. Even more of them died in that attempt. They'd been there for months. Five bloody, violent months of every tactic they could come up with, from all-out space assaults to guerrilla warfare. The only upside was that they knew they weren't harming any civilians, because there weren't any to be found. Just Mandalorians. Scores and scores of Mandalorians. And cannoks. Damn those cannoks, they ate everything, including a couple of lightsabers. She instinctively reached down to make sure hers was still there, before she remembered that she no longer had one. "You are exiled; you are a Jedi no longer." Master Vash's words echoed in her head. Exile was extreme. It just wasn't done, and was generally self-imposed. That's what they'd always said, all those years. Until she and the others left to defend what was left of the Republic. [/i]"You should never have gone!"[/i] Ielyn shook her head. She was falling apart. No wonder the Jedi had cast her out. Though, they had no idea she was tearing at the seams. No, they'd found other reasons to send her on her way. Her 'bloodlust' and 'thirst for war' seemed to come up often enough. Actually, she found such accusations laughable. Anybody who wanted to go to war was certifiably insane. But there's a long way between wanting to go to war and recognizing that sometimes it's not avoidable. It is not the Jedi way. Ielyn snorted. That was an easy enough platitude to hide behind. But she sure as hell knew that sitting around and meditating while people died also wasn't the 'Jedi way.' It couldn't be. That was the part she never understood. The Jedi Council would rant about the Dark Side, and the dangers of violence, and how aggression wasn't the way of the Jedi. Easy enough for them to say. So long as all they heard were the newscasts, they didn't have to recognize the reality of the war. Ielyn, on the other hand, felt everything. Everywhere she'd ever been. Every planet where she'd made a friend. She shared a bond with each of them, and every time one of them died, or was hurt, she felt it. Sure, it was just as bad going into battle with her fellow Jedi, but at least she was doing something about it. Feeling became her motivation to succeed. Until Malachor V. -----signature----- Before Awards Schedule: Nominations: June 4 - June 15 Excerpt submission period: June 19 - June 29 Voting Period: July 3 - July 12 Ceremony: July 18
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Before_Awards_Sock Title: Fan Fiction Awards Sock: Before the Saga Registered: Nov '04	Date Posted: 7/5/08 1:03pm Subject: RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread - Date Edited: 7/9/08 11:14am (1 edits total) Edited By: Before_Awards_Sock
	Best Poem Observation by MsLanna Observation Maybe his are calloused hands, Who will ever see? Sheathed in gloves when they touch, their grip like steel made to restrain not to hold Tenderness? nil return - uncompromising - Maybe his are fearful thoughts Who will ever know? If they are full of fire and steel, or they threaten to reveal - regret - What does a man in iron think? You can take the helmet, but to find a face as hard as the Mando steel Revelation? nil return Maybe his are pensive eyes that hide behind that mask full of dark and depth and fire mirrors of hopes and of - But in his eyes the sudden - vulnerability - quickly retreats behind the sadness of knowing the world too well -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Vercopa by MsLanna vercopa bes'laar cuun runi laraari mesh'la kaab tome al ni laraari lise dar sal cuun kar'ta hetti dral tracyn tome al ni haa'tayli lise dar kyrbej o'r kovid kyr'am an rud bal ni akaani lise dar ni ne sibu 'mhi' tug'yc n'sibu 'su'cuy', cyar'ika tion meh - tion meh - Vercopa 'meh' ven cuyi vencuyot bes'larr al ni susulu lise dar Yes, I'm mad and it's in Mando. But I am also nice, so here's a translation: Wish/dream/I wish the music our souls sings is beautiful sound together but I can sing no longer the colour our hearts burn are a bright fire together but I can see no longer a battlefield in my head death and destruction and I I can fight no longer I cannotsay 'we' again can't say hello/still alive, beloved what if what if I wish 'if' had been the future is music but I can listen no longer -----signature----- Before Awards Schedule: Nominations: June 4 - June 15 Excerpt submission period: June 19 - June 29 Voting Period: July 3 - July 12 Ceremony: July 18
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Before_Awards_Sock Title: Fan Fiction Awards Sock: Before the Saga Registered: Nov '04	Date Posted: 7/5/08 1:03pm Subject: RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread - Date Edited: 7/11/08 12:09pm (2 edits total) Edited By: Before_Awards_Sock
	Best Crossover Gate Crashin' by Jinngerbread and Lithiniel O'Neill stood, his bullpup FN P-90 slung across his chest. His hand rested lightly on it, ready to take aim at a moment's notice. O'Neill glanced to Jackson, their linguist. "You wanna talk to him, or should I?" "You go ahead and see if he can understand English, just don't shoot at him unless he goes for his weapon," Jackson advised. "Even then, I'd be careful," he added. O'Neill shot Jackson a look that said... "Well, duh!" ... and took a step forward, waving at the stranger. "Hey, there!" The Jedi looked at the stranger who was waving, evidently in greeting. He was trying to decide on the best approach but he supposed friendly was a good one for now, even if he didn't really understand what was going on yet. "Hello there." At least they spoke Basic. That would make things easier. O'Neill was mildly surprised. They'd run into scores of humans in their travels, and most of them had spoken any language but English. And half the time, Jackson had been forced to use all his linguistic skills to make himself understood. But all of a sudden, here, and so far from home, was a complete stranger, speaking perfect English. It put him on his guard. "Uh. I don't suppose you could tell us where we are." The Jedi Knight arched an eyebrow. "And here I was hoping you could tell me what you guys were doing out here sitting next to a big circle in the desert." Jack paused, frowning slightly. Was it possible this guy didn't know what a Stargate was? He decided to voice that opinion. "You mean the Stargate? How can you not know what a Stargate is?" Kyran eyed the circle warily, then the one speaking. "Stargate? No, I can't say I've ever heard of it and I've traveled extensively through the galaxy." O'Neill was oddly pleased to have one-up on someone who was so advanced technologically. He still didn't know exactly how the doohickey worked -- that was Carter's job anyway -- but that wasn't any of this stranger's business. "It's for travel. Wormholes. Sciencey stuff." "Sciency stuff?" The Jedi had thought he was speaking to someone intelligent at first. Yet the language he was using was belaying that fact. "You couldn't be anymore vague, could you?" Jack folded his arms across his chest and gave the robed figure his best stony look. "Oh, I probably could." Kyran sighed heavily. "So this Stargate somehow develops wormholes that allow you to travel from star to star? Why would anyone need that with hyperspace capabilities? It seems a bit primitive to me." O'Neill frowned. Hyperspace? This was starting to sound oddly familiar. Of course, Earth had hyperspace capabilities, too. It was all wormholes, everything seemed to come down to wormholes. "Yeah, well...we like it." "So then you four were the disturbance I felt, " he mused thoughtfully. "Nah, it was probably the 'Gate. It takes a lot of power. "O'Neill paused, realizing belatedly that if he was going to get anywhere with this guy, he'd probably be better off introducing himself and his team. "By the way, I'm Colonel Jack O'Neill, US Air Force. And this," he said, gesturing at the blonde woman, "is Lt. Col. Samantha Carter, also USAF. Our companions are Dr. Daniel Jackson, civilian consultant and resident archaeologist." Jack nodded toward his bespectacled friend, then to the Jaffa. "And...Teal'c," he concluded. Kyran nodded at each in turn, memorizing their names and faces as he was trained to do automatically. "Kyran Josel," he finally replied, bowing. "Pleased to meet the four of you. I'm an official representative of the Galactic Republic. I was actually on my way home, when I felt this wormhole, as you call it. It was too powerful a disturbance not to do an investigation. I do hope you understand." Galactic Republic? O'Neill realized with a sinking feeling that they had somehow stepped into a world of fiction. He took in the hooded robe, the cylinder -- lightsaber, he corrected mentally -- on the other's belt, the high boots, everything. "So, I guess you're some kind of..." He felt silly saying it. "Ahem. A Jedi, or something?" Kyran's eyes darkened at the reception to his introduction. "Yes, I am." Jack held up a finger. "Excuse me just one second." He turned and walked two paces back to join the team. "Either I'm losing my mind, or we've just stumbled on the most realistic Sci-Fi convention ever. You wanna talk to this guy, Jackson?" "Well, I likely should, as it looks like you're just going to end up pissing him off," Jackson pointed out, shaking his head at his colleague. Jack gave the archaeologist a tight smile. "Thanks, buddy." Jackson adjusted his glasses carefully and approached the waiting Jedi. Holy Force, Batman! by p_stotts Bruce sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “First of all, I want you to know up front that the answers you give me will determine whether or not I turn you over to the authorities.” “The authorities?” Obi-Wan took a moment to calm himself. “I haven’t done anything wrong… have I?” Bruce shrugged. “We’ll see. That jet you crashed in isn’t like anything I’ve ever encountered before. That leaves all sorts of possibilities to contemplate. For example, it might be some new top-secret prototype, like the stealth bomber was several years ago, and perhaps you stole it, and crashed because you’re unfamiliar with how to fly it.” Obi-Wan drew on the Force to purge the growing annoyance he felt at Bruce’s suggestion. “I am no thief, Master Wayne, and I assure you I am quite familiar with how to fly that… jet.” “Well, if you were authorized to fly it, then the military would have tracked your flight and would have sent out a rescue and retrieval team… yet no one has shown up. Can you explain that?” “You are the one who suggested I was flying a top secret prototype, not me.” “Then what is it?” Obi-Wan looked down at his hands, folded in his lap, and searched the Force for guidance, but none was forthcoming. He looked up into Bruce’s face and said, “I’m afraid I am not at liberty to say.” Bruce raised his chin. “All right, let’s start with something simpler. Where are you from?” Obi-Wan swallowed heavily. “I am not from around here.” “No kidding. Care to be a little more specific?” “I don’t think that would be wise at this time.” Irritation showed on Bruce’s face. “Look, Obi-Wan, or whatever your name is.” He stood up and glowered down at Obi-Wan. “I don’t intend to waste my time beating around the bush with you. I will not expose myself, my household, or Gotham City for that matter, to what I consider a threat. Now, either you answer my questions, or I’ll have no choice but to turn you and whatever that was you were flying over to the authorities. I can assure you, they won’t be so patient or gentle with you.” Obi-Wan drew in a deep breath. He knew his response would seal his fate, but he felt he had no choice. He looked at Bruce and said, “You must, of course, do what you think is best. I can only tell you that I am no threat… not to you, not to your household, nor to your city, and certainly not to your planet.” Obi-Wan suddenly found himself the target of one of the most intense stares he’d ever encountered. “Did you say planet?” Uh oh, said too much Kenobi. He remained silent and let Bruce draw his own conclusions. “That’s why your jet didn’t look familiar,” Bruce continued. “It’s not a jet. It’s a space craft of some type.” He brought his face close to Obi-Wan’s and rested his fists on either side of him on the mattress. “You’re not from this planet, are you?” Obi-Wan refused to react to the obvious tactic of intimidation. He knew he could push Bruce away from him at any time. The Force swirled inside him, filling his mind with calm, and he felt compelled to tell Bruce the truth. Finally, he broke eye contact with a heavy sigh, dropping his gaze to his lap. “No,” he whispered. Bruce straightened up then slowly sat down on the edge of the mattress. “What happened?” he asked in a surprisingly gentle voice. -----signature----- Before Awards Schedule: Nominations: June 4 - June 15 Excerpt submission period: June 19 - June 29 Voting Period: July 3 - July 12 Ceremony: July 18
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