Jedi Council Forums - Yun-Yammka in Escrow (Yuuzhan Vong OC, postwar) updated 11-8, Fruits, Kaleesh

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Author	Topic: Yun-Yammka in Escrow (Yuuzhan Vong OC, postwar) updated 11-8, Fruits, Kaleesh
kecen Registered: Jul '05	Date Posted: 11/9/07 4:53pm Subject: RE: Yun-Yammka in Escrow (Yuuzhan Vong OC, postwar) updated 7-27 Nominated!
	Eerk, this needs an update. Here I am with the disjointed plotlines. It will all connect...eventually. Infidel Incantry (part one) Limni pushed the massage chair through the rotting ground cover of the Zonama rainforest. Godsend the ground was not actually dead, but was making fizzy noises as she stepped on it. She had found it; the massage chair, not the ground; in a trash heap next to her family’s minshal. Taking sympathy, the shaper trainee had shoved it into the space in the back made by the recent deaths of all the resident yanskacs in the dinner tank. She begged her almost-father to keep it. Naturally, he said no and she was further pelted with rocks for associating with such an abomination and thrown out of the village. Despite angry lynch mob gathered around her entrance-valve, Limni insisted on keeping the chair, further horrifying her already traumatized family. She was unmoved, emotionally, at least. With a huff, she remembered pushing it across the sea of angry Yuuzhan Vong peasantry as the perimeter of the minshal was taped for purification. Dung maggots! She scarcely felt the sharp points tear the skin of her back. Limni walked on… As she predicted, the pelting stopped after she had suffered the length of a modern Star Destroyer in projectiles. Her pain tolerance was impeccable. Never mind them! Limni was lugging it to a more accepting society in the northern hemisphere, and Sekot would help her! Such a benevolent planet that would rent itself predominantly to generic blue-skinned humanoids would not allow her to be devoured by predators. Besides, how likely was it she would die in the backwoods if the planet provided a complimentary scarf to each of its sentient inhabitants? Limni was determined to find the tree they grew on. In truth, she almost expected one to grow as soon as the thought formed, to support her change in lifestyle. No divine intervention came to fortify her resolve; instead of a soft, fluffy, fur scarf, Limni was pelted by a rain of discard fruit rinds from the canopy above. If the planet was benevolent, Limni thought, the peelings would be trained to avoid hitting me. Halting momentarily, she promptly yanked the orange gunk out of her ratty juvenile hair. On her elongated forehead the humidity had formed salty droplets that furthered the rank smell. Limni wiped it with her hand and trudged on. Zonama Sekot’s current orbit promised balmy midday temperatures, a feat that needed no regulation from cranky, coffin-dodging old shapers who were now freed from their primary occupation to invent massage chairs of their own. They should, Limni further thought. She remembered why she had left the shaper’s damutek the night she met her mechanical companion. Such archaic rules! This and that whatnot about the horrors of free love, sucking up to lewd warmasters, the whole five kilometers! Not that she expected to stay in Gortree and exercise her freedom to choose a sentient spaceship as her man-of-honor at her escalation. No, she would continue to lug the massage chair through the peatish ground even if she was allowed to snuggle with a sea slug. She hoped Sekot wouldn’t pull off a lesson of morality and send her back to the master shaper who smelled of stuffed voxyn and boiled space cabbage. She hoped the chair wasn’t detectable in the Force and was yet another ingenious tracking device. As if the planet’s green coloration picked up frequencies like an intergalactic prodding organ tickled by her every movement in the undergrowth, Limni began to feel the first pangs of suspicion. Lifting a spiked boot, she suspected she had just stepped on a hidden recording beetle. Hopefully, the planet wouldn’t rain more fruit peels on her already soiled headdress for this act of disrespect towards Yun-Yuuzhan’s creatures. Her boots continued to stomp stomp in the mud. The massage chair was miraculously waterproof. Cautious crèche caretakers had warned her that waterproof furniture was detrimental to the planet’s delicate ecosystem. Did chewing mites die as they nibbled on the artificial cloth covering? Limni couldn’t tell, having left her magnifying vision behind with everything else she considered old and crusty. She had a small regret over this. She wanted to check if the squished beetle had an ID tag. Her friend the massage chair was bereft of any manufacturer’s markings, furthering her suspicion. A massage chair, she had read, was used by humans and similar sentients to inflict pleasure in much the same way the Yuuzhan Vong utilized the Embrace of Pain around mating season, after a long, stressful day. A massage chair was exactly what she needed…. Limni planted her crabby bottom in the squishy, flame-retardant seat, strangely drawn to the mechanical travesty underneath. The shaper swore the seat was abnormally warm, no matter; many chairs she sat on were warm. She strapped on flame-retardant seat belt. This was a particularly strange feature, for there was no reason to put one on as stationary as device as a massage char. Unless this was a newer model equipped with wheels…. The massage chair, already awakened from its slumber, whirred to life at that moment. Limni shrieked as it lurched violently downhill, taking the highly tattooed adolescent with it. -----signature----- "Thank you for the warning, but I still see the sun," "A little Vongforming never hurt no one!" Member of the General Grievous fanclub Member of the George R. Binks fanclub, whoo! Supporting Hutt Marriage since October '06
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Blue_but_beautiful Registered: Jan '06	Date Posted: 11/10/07 4:36am Subject: RE: Yun-Yammka in Escrow (Yuuzhan Vong OC, postwar) updated 11-9
	She strapped on flame-retardant seat belt. - Are you sure that's a massage chair? The massage chair, already awakened from its slumber, whirred to life at that moment. Limni shrieked as it lurched violently downhill, taking the highly tattooed adolescent with it. - That's no massage chair! I like this, it's a little odd and quirky in places but I think that works in this latest update's favour, i'm curious to see where this is going -----signature----- "Are you sure you are not an Ooglith masquer with nothing actually inside?" My Fan Art: http://tinyurl.com/mdqf4y High Master Shaper, Yuuzhan'tar - the Yuuzhan Vong Homeworld Proud Recipient of the Golden Elegos™
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kecen Registered: Jul '05	Date Posted: 11/10/07 6:36pm Subject: RE: Yun-Yammka in Escrow (Yuuzhan Vong OC, postwar) updated 11-9
	Oi! You commented (ahaha, you seem to be the only reviewer these days because I update once every two months). My Yuuzhan Vong all seem to be escapist types who manage to run away from home without being used as target practice by crusty militia(wo)men. Limni is vong!Bjork but there's also an actual warrior with the name XP I have the part I didn't type up half-written. I need to make it a bit more historically relevant (update me on the 40 ABY time period! Jacen Solo is doing something irrelevant!) -----signature----- "Thank you for the warning, but I still see the sun," "A little Vongforming never hurt no one!" Member of the General Grievous fanclub Member of the George R. Binks fanclub, whoo! Supporting Hutt Marriage since October '06
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Barriss_Coffee Registered: Jun '03	Date Posted: 11/11/07 10:16pm Subject: RE: Yun-Yammka in Escrow (Yuuzhan Vong OC, postwar) updated 11-9
	Nice update -- I'm starting to see a pattern among all these characters. And it's interesting how something as mundane as a massage chair can be the instigator of so much angst. -----signature----- SAN HILL LIVES!
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kecen Registered: Jul '05	Date Posted: 11/12/07 9:41am Subject: RE: Yun-Yammka in Escrow (Yuuzhan Vong OC, postwar) updated 11-9
	Really? A pattern? My characters are usually a)female, b)representative of Asperger's syndrome symptoms, and c)improbable animals XD -----signature----- "Thank you for the warning, but I still see the sun," "A little Vongforming never hurt no one!" Member of the General Grievous fanclub Member of the George R. Binks fanclub, whoo! Supporting Hutt Marriage since October '06
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kecen Registered: Jul '05	Date Posted: 11/22/07 10:33pm Subject: RE: Yun-Yammka in Escrow (Yuuzhan Vong OC, postwar) updated 11-22 - Date Edited: 11/22/07 10:34pm (1 edits total) Edited By: kecen
	It helps to post in smaller segments short attention span. I'm aiming to make these bits able to stand alone. Work Day Grizhabel’d slipped wearily off the fiber-filled mattress. On the soles of her calloused gray feet, the floor felt cold, like the poorly-heated residence vessel she had once lived. Her dreams had been occupied with visions of far-off worlds alien to her memory, and mountains and mountains of dead bodies. Nothing unusual---dead animals came and went from the stuffed cooling unit of her collective unconscious. She rose to straighten her back, aching from the husky mattress. For the first half of her life, Grizhabel’d awoke to the sound of other funeral workers. Before the waking hours of the worldship they rose, pulling on stale-smelling aprons to begin their life’s work. In the dark was silhouetted a cold room filled with bodies. The stench of reclamation had not yet set upon the cold storage chambers she walked. Steam rose from the orifices of the still-living as they plodded, zombielike, hunching their backs to open the freshly-made deathbeds of the select few of the higher castes notable enough to require their own compartments, away from the contamination of dreck such as her self. Grizhabel’d boggled at the contradiction, peering inside the tunnel. Their bodies would be pawed at by funeral shift kanabar no matter who they were, stripped of the ornate coverings they donned while still breathing. Grizhabel’d walked on, away from their compartmentalized rooms. She turned over the body of a warrior in the unorganized heap too mutilated to tell if it had been male or female. A pair of gloved hands trembled over the ice-coated chest. The little grey Yuuzhan Vong would have to be careful in greeting the mourners coming to claim the body. She had once addressed the remains of a commander a rank too low while her fellow workers were occupied elsewhere, heaping the responsibility of greeting to her alone. She had been severely kicked by the grieving parties after she had switched the names of two vacuum-damaged corpses. They had been two rival domains. She thought about the rivalry between the tephlophene players in the funeral shift. Of course! There was none, not including the mid-morning scramble to grab the one with the cleanest belly. A tephlophene smelt dreadful to anyone unfortunate enough to be to write funeral dirges on one. She hadn’t told this to her human companions at the Museum of Improbable Organisms when the opening for a horn player had opened. Her bandmates had found the matter highly romantic and insisted she write a song about it. Metal doors swung open within seconds of pressing the down button. She stepped inside. Grizhabel’d shook the flaking skin from her braided black hair inside the elevator lift. She swore the smell of preserving fluid was still lodged inside the keratin. The two ocarina-headed sentients in business suits shuffled aside, worrying in formats unbeknownst to her. The elevator doors opened to a poster of Jacen Solo. Grizhabel’d, lost in memory, snapped out of the coroner’s office, where she was polishing her tephlophene with gusto. What was he up to now? Something irrelevant, she thought. Grizhabel’d deleted all the news casts that came through the slot in her pigeonhole. What? There were more today? Sometimes she would forget to check the mail. No matter, her contact informed her of a new public appearance several days in advance. She would do it later. She would have to visit the Museum of Improbable Organisms anyway… She stepped out into the street, beyond the automatic doors with a thoroughly killed brown sack slung over her shoulder. Grizhabel’d’s right eye twitched at the poor taste in architecture as she glanced back. Perhaps it was the light that made her grey irises convulse; tt was a sunny purple day, and the shuttle to the entertainment district was already waiting as she blinked the rainbows from her photoreception. Meanwhile, Jacen Solo was interrogating the former tuba player of the Voidgazers in sterilized room somewhere in the sector... -----signature----- "Thank you for the warning, but I still see the sun," "A little Vongforming never hurt no one!" Member of the General Grievous fanclub Member of the George R. Binks fanclub, whoo! Supporting Hutt Marriage since October '06
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kecen Registered: Jul '05	Date Posted: 12/26/07 5:55pm Subject: RE: Yun-Yammka in Escrow (Yuuzhan Vong OC, postwar) updated 11-22
	Open House A piece of her face fell off. It was only natural---old Yuuzhan Vongi like her were constantly losing bits and pieces. It was probably genetic. In her twilight days, Master Shaper Dal was a rusted relic, resigned to sitting idly in her dim room as light shone from the oblong portal leading outside, casting a static brightness upon the great fleshy shawl draped over her gnarled tree trunk of a body. It was hard to tell if she felt anything at all about her missing body parts, for the Yuuzhan Vong seemed to relish their imminent mortality. She was always having the bits and pieces that fell away being stolen by her prim and proper neighbors, to be sold at craft fairs to tourists that looked like dandy bedfellows. These days, the Almighty Tentacled gods had little market for body parts, and whatever happened to detach itself from its host was off the planet within the week. If she could wiggle her ever so pointy ears, she would. Unfortunately, they were very stiff with the essence of creation, and would have fallen off anyway. More revenue for her neighbors, perhaps. The scene outside was veiled in stony white dawnlight, but Myrnum Dal could see up ahead a most colorful video store clerk. Even from afar, the master shaper knew this visitor bought and sold highly unnatural recordings for a living. Why else would color be bleeding from it in such sloshing sound waves? (The common onlooker wouldn't notice the void anyway, for Yuuzhan Vongi are gifted with the ability to hear color, while most other species only heard blue. The video clerk was leaking every hue except blue, although many of the rolling crests of auditory information came marginally close, as Yuuzhan Vongi are otherwise blind to blue sound waves.) Myrnum Dal could see now the mop of peculiar brown hair, the uncommonly pale, bespeckled skin, the checkered rags it wore. She wondered if it was just another hip adolescent fresh from the creche attuned to decorating their speech with words like peace and misogyny, who wore infidel fashions constantly to be more socially acceptable. (it is notable that while these teenagers were more socially acceptable on a galactic scale, their elders were thoroughly disturbed) This seemed more unlikely the closer the video clerk approached, and Myrnum Dal watched as it slunk, shadow-like, into the room. It looked very unnatural, as video clerks ought to be. Infidel was a more appropriate term, but Mrs. Dal found it to be dirty language. The visitor searched its robes for something, but at that unfortunate moment Mrs. Dal's ears fell off. "Oh poot, I was going to invite you to a movie screening..." Mrs. Dal, eager to correct the abnormally white video clerk, croaked "I can still hear you." "Oh poot, I keep forgetting how hearing works. Here, I got news to pass. Ask for Oranda!" The strange visitor handed Mrs. Dal a plastic case, which would normally be very upsetting to old shaper ladies. Instead, she took the package without detaching her hands. With that, Oranda disappeared in a poof of logic as an abstract sound pattern of pastel colors. Mrs. Dal got out of her chair to walk to the nearest tattoo parlor to apply for a new pair of ears. She had been meaning to for a long time, but now artistic self-modification was out of style and frowned upon in most parts of the galaxy. Freak accidents were becoming increasingly welcome. She was relieved to find that the wiggling neural interface model was fortunately in fashion. -----signature----- "Thank you for the warning, but I still see the sun," "A little Vongforming never hurt no one!" Member of the General Grievous fanclub Member of the George R. Binks fanclub, whoo! Supporting Hutt Marriage since October '06
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kecen Registered: Jul '05	Date Posted: 1/15/08 9:06pm Subject: RE: Yun-Yammka in Escrow (Yuuzhan Vong OC, postwar) updated 12-26 - Date Edited: 1/15/08 9:11pm (2 edits total) Edited By: kecen
	"This is a scene from Apocalypto, you're gonna be sacrificed and we're going to chop off your head!" Says my savage beast of a sister. An update! I only write a lot when I'm in the mood (by writing a sentence XP). Typing is such a chore... This is my reply to Bee Movie, because I think Seinfeld should of been a male florist and Barry be a girl (which is a fact for honeybees. The workers are all female) Yeng'k Hul (The Beekeeper) In the arid foothills of Bolgur, east of the great city of Shar Haan, there lived a menagerie shaper who collected the viscous, golden honey for all future parties. He went about his hobby long into his prime years, secluding himself from the ritual and pomp of the providence lord’s city. There was a reason. On this morning, two-fold the time before the worldships with their myriad colors sailed for faraway shores, he walked the grassland orchard in the predawn. The smell of settled mist hung in the low-hanging trees, and the sparkbees in their nests were not yet awake. As if the Overlord of his very own worldship, he weaved in and out among them with an empty container and a bellow of sleeping gas. It was time for them to pay their dues. At one hive he stopped down with his collection pitcher. With his thorny right hand he pulled open the tiny wooden door (for it was in that age they occasionally used a piece of dead-wood). Curled up in the wax matting lay a tiny worker sparkbee, glistening green and skyblue in the drowsy twilight. “Hello my little servant,” said the shaper in his most courtly voice, wedging a finger under the miniscule animal, sweeping her legs up. Taken by surprise, she twitched all four appendages against his pinch as she was lifted out of the nest and into the almost drinkable morning air. Feeling rather like she was glued to a gnat-trap, she looked up inquisitively at the giant with a pair of ruby-red compound eyes. “Brrr, brrrr, brrru” she said, but they were not words the shaper could understand, only the sound of a fresh dinner. Still speechless, the sparkbee watched as the old man inserted the thin beak of a bloated sack into the body of the nest. A plume of thick white vapor spewed out of the entrance like a swimming sea jelly and left the inhabitants dazed, as if they could drink themselves into a stupor on their own honey. She clung tighter to the beekeeper’s hand as he opened the chamber of the nest to scrape leftover fluids off. Chunks of waxy residue fell into his bucket and he shook the container strapped to his shoulder. Only beginning to awaken, the colony had drifted back into their nightly hibernation. Little clumps of flesh with legs and chitin twitched occasionally. They did not notice the shaper taking his share of their work. His captive began to regain her courage. “Why are you doing this?” asked the sparkbee, clicking her mandibles like a wood saw. The shaper, delighted that his full-time hobby finally yielded somebody to talk with after so long (for it was not uncommon for sparkbees to speak with their masters then) replied: “Because the Yuuzhan Vong have been given dominion over Yun-Yuuzhan’s creatures. We take what we need, and you will adapt.” He cupped the little thing to his face, pinching her sides to avoid a pair of venomous stingers, expecting her to object in her typical, high-pitched voice. “Why is it so?” replied the sparkbee, helpless to stop him from moving on to the next nest and pilfering more of their hard-earned treasure. It felt wrong, and this old man was proud he had squeezed out a response! “As you will see, it is a matter of size, strength, and brain power. A Vua’sa possesses a greater mind than that of a tiny sandbiter. The Yuuzhan Vong outdo them both, but sparkbees are an inquisitive race. Yes. We’ve organized ourselves into a rigid hierarchy like you, and yet we’ve the comforts of having others build our cities. And I could crush you between the tips of my fingers if you decide not to comply now you’ve learned my secrets.” Eyes agape, as they always were, the sparkbee pondered a way to worm herself to back up. How fleeting was the life of a worker! No time to think clearly, but she finally asked: “Does this mean we should take plunders of our own? In the backbrush flowers there swarm tiny spark-folk who buzz about the sticky sap of the pitchers, never knowing what ensnares them. It would do a favor for them to order them into our colony, build our nurseries for us, feed the larvae….” The sparkbee could now feel the strength of the colony pouring into her tiny scent-pits, the buzzing of ten thousand pairs of wings in her knee-drums. To them, the tiny gnats were easy picking. How wise was their master to plant the idea in the garden! “It is well,” smiled the shaper, a hand to the elaborate tent of his beekeeper’s headdress. Sparkbees learned quicker than infidel races, he thought, walking to the wide-roofed minshal that was his home. ---- Years later, when the Yuuzhan Vong left this world for another more fertile, the fluttering of distant wings could still be heard. Underneath was the rumbling of fine-haired feet tinier still walking up branches of bramble coral, into charnel pits, and under the banners of armies. The sparkbees sat in the shade and watched their clients as they worked in the civilizing of the Dung Mound. Draped in sunset-orange, the queen of the colony pulled the honey-sap reins and galloped into the horizon in search of territory. Parties, endless parties. All was well for the hive; they had plenty of honey for all future parties. All they needed was a place to vacation. -----signature----- "Thank you for the warning, but I still see the sun," "A little Vongforming never hurt no one!" Member of the General Grievous fanclub Member of the George R. Binks fanclub, whoo! Supporting Hutt Marriage since October '06
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kecen Registered: Jul '05	Date Posted: 2/17/08 10:27pm Subject: RE: Yun-Yammka in Escrow (Yuuzhan Vong OC, postwar) updated 1-15
	Oh joy! An update. God I hate Windows Vista's filtering system. In the Woodworks Sed Nierp was experiencing technical difficulties. It was those damnable walls again. In his dugout several stories above sea level (for all buildings in this particular sector were very much above sea level), there was a patch of white behind a painting of a nerf in his kitchen. At first it had been a small patch of caf-cream discolouration, but as the weeks passed it grew in size and Sed was losing patience with the universe for bringing this upon him for buying real wood paneling. The stain was an eyesore. It had to go. What was it that the creator expected of this deceased tree? Was it one of those odd species with only one gender per tree? Was this one a female tree who spoke for reproductive liberty? Was the Force punishing her for not producing more of her species, like a good tree should of, being its misogynistic self? Was it immoral to buy wood made of trees he pretended were sentient? Sed Nierp did not care. It was his kitchen, and the universe had no right to give it a post-mortem treatment of cancer! It had cost him a fair sum to install it in his Coruscant condominium, and much more to dodge the wrath of concerned in-laws worried the addition of anything once living to their living space would devalue it. They dreamt of a day where they could move out of county and into a pleasant country house. How quaint, country living. There’s more farmland on this planet than when I last read Lukass Fiiksion books. Again, buying them worried his in-laws. Oh, for depreciation of property! How he loved overpriced paperbacks. How he loved undead trees mowed down in the name of civilization and Chiss storage systems. Word was that books were back in style… Sed Nierp snapped back into reality. He had recently bought a larger painting of a agricultural landscape to cover up the spot, and wasn’t intending on spending any more of his paycheck on the Udding-forsaken walls. The stain needed to go, but not necessarily away. He needed the money for other purposes. His blood was beginning to strain his arteries, for boiling was only the right of underwater crustaceans. He felt like a crustacean deprived of its ability to spawn, strapped to the sweaty torso of a cubicle worker turned commando. He hated cubicle workers. ARRRG! Udding-be-damned those cubicle workers were the cause of all his suffering. Just this morning he was blocked from searching for “removing wood stains” by a faulty filter. It had read it was making the Holonet family-friendly. By which species’ standards? ARRRRRGH! How he despised his cubicle-working in-laws. With as much fury as he could muster, he slashed deep into the laminated paneling with his dinner fork. It felt good to desecrate the object of his unhappiness. He was not a Jeedai, for crying out loud! He would certainly share this with Grizhabel’d. She was surely as displeased with her living space as he! And when she damaged her workspace, it actually squealed in pain. And she had no in-laws. Sed Nierp wanted nothing more than to move in with the Yuuzhan Vong worker. She certainly didn’t work in a cubicle, and had family values that did not include searching for innuendo in every search query he could think of! But what would his aunt say? What would his girlfriend say? We’re genetically incompatible, he would reply. Besides, Grizhabel’d was most definitely very well-preserved, and most likely very aged from living in the… Why was he thinking this way? He’d get strangled for associating with her in the first place if he ever revealed what she really did for a living before they met…. It was a publicity stunt. That was why he hid his stash of dark clothing in his room, where his in-laws would not see them. Sed Nierp’s musical career had gone flaccid by the time he had met the odd gremlin in the back alleys. His band was one tubaphonist short after Murdock Grunner was apprehended on suspicions of being a Corellian spy. Jacen Solo was involved in a relevant activity right now. Meanwhile, Jaina Solo was doing something irrelevant. Stop it, he told himself. His thoughts were straying in unpleasant ways as of late. It was those paperbacks again, making him think of Jeedai and their oft-flaunted exploits. He was a struggling artist with no Force sensitivity. He had no reason to shiver uncontrollably around the new tubaphonist of the Voidgazers. It was his women and children reflex kicking itself into gear. Much more useful than Force sensitivity, it allowed him empathy for non-combatants where a Jeedai would have gone into an indecisive stream of moral psychobabble. Stop it, he told himself again, remembering what he had really meant to bring up. Yes, the publicity stunt. As well as being offensive, the image Grizhabel’d gave off was immensely popular with his friends. Never mind the Yuuzhan Vong had nearly razed the galaxy, never mind their parents hated the likes of Grizhabel’d. To put it in pun, she was hip. The kind of hip that didn’t need surgical enhancement. The kind of hip that made adolescent humans squeal in joy and attend seedy concerts in dimly-lit establishments paneled with real hardwood. Udding it was expensive to have hardwood. “Sed! What have you done to the wall?!” He hung his head low and let the mop of black hair obscure his vision. -----signature----- "Thank you for the warning, but I still see the sun," "A little Vongforming never hurt no one!" Member of the General Grievous fanclub Member of the George R. Binks fanclub, whoo! Supporting Hutt Marriage since October '06
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Vongchild Registered: Apr '04	Date Posted: 2/18/08 4:45am Subject: RE: Yun-Yammka in Escrow (Yuuzhan Vong OC, postwar) updated 2-17: darn paperbacks
	Heh, I've really been enjoying this. You have a wonderful sense of irony and dark humor. I love the adolescent pathos you've imbued into the post-war GFFA. Let me know when you update again! -----signature----- "Oh," the other clerk said, as if it was nothing new, "You got one of the kid's drawings." http://boards.theforce.net/Beyond_the_Saga/b10477/21158399 - Mechanical Dreams Apprentice to Zonoma "I'd take a Yuuzhan Vong Warrior over Jacen Solo any day."
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kecen Registered: Jul '05	Date Posted: 2/18/08 9:44am Subject: RE: Yun-Yammka in Escrow (Yuuzhan Vong OC, postwar) updated 2-17: darn paperbacks
	Vongchild posted: Heh, I've really been enjoying this. You have a wonderful sense of irony and dark humor. I love the adolescent pathos you've imbued into the post-war GFFA. Let me know when you update again! Teenagers scare the poodoo out of me, they can care less as long as... Yep. I finally get a new reader XD Eh, I do like writing about Grizha's old occupation. Blame the book Stiff by Mary Roach. -----signature----- "Thank you for the warning, but I still see the sun," "A little Vongforming never hurt no one!" Member of the General Grievous fanclub Member of the George R. Binks fanclub, whoo! Supporting Hutt Marriage since October '06
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Barriss_Coffee Registered: Jun '03	Date Posted: 2/18/08 6:16pm Subject: RE: Yun-Yammka in Escrow (Yuuzhan Vong OC, postwar) updated 2-17: darn paperbacks
	lol... painfully clever as always. The pain stemming from the fact that I'm often driven to the brinks of insanity trying to follow this stream-of-conscious-esque style. But the Yuuzhan Vong would be pleased. -----signature----- SAN HILL LIVES!
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kecen Registered: Jul '05	Date Posted: 2/18/08 7:27pm Subject: RE: Yun-Yammka in Escrow (Yuuzhan Vong OC, postwar) updated 2-17: darn paperbacks
	Barriss_Coffee posted: lol... painfully clever as always. The pain stemming from the fact that I'm often driven to the brinks of insanity trying to follow this stream-of-conscious-esque style. But the Yuuzhan Vong would be pleased. It's working, it's working! I ought to write an accidental parasite-baby fairytale with the Yuuzhan Vong, then. Those are especially tormenting for women like the tree who got chopped down :B -----signature----- "Thank you for the warning, but I still see the sun," "A little Vongforming never hurt no one!" Member of the General Grievous fanclub Member of the George R. Binks fanclub, whoo! Supporting Hutt Marriage since October '06
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kecen Registered: Jul '05	Date Posted: 4/5/08 1:28pm Subject: RE: Yun-Yammka in Escrow (Yuuzhan Vong OC, postwar) updated 2-17: darn paperbacks
	I say I say, a rude interruption is about to occur! Oh, there's Mandolorians in this chapter. And Jaina Solo. Meanwhile… On the mossy lawn Vua Senneq opened the jaws of the folding chair. A fickle creature, it resisted her prying fingers before submitting and spreading in its full glory. It had no jaw muscles to speak of, sans atrophied strings of tissue too weak to sink its teeth into an unwitting bottom. Vua Senneq wiped sweat from her dreadlocked hair and straightened her studded faux-crab skirt. Two pale blue hands waved and beckoned the white-garbed menagerie groomer to sit down. Master Handler Dal was so pleased with the courteousness of her host her new ear implants curled up like a fern frond. “Hello, Madame Dal!” waved two boys in similar dress to their friend in video-taping. This was a holofilm screening, she knew, and by these children. She snapped out of her initial enchantment over the quaintness of the place. The juvenile warriors (or were they delinquents?) from the school adjacent Mrs. Dal’s house called it an amphitheatre. She was expecting the chair to bite her unshielded bottom, in due manner of amphistaves. Silly children were always finding new ways to conceal weapons in pieces of furniture, now that Sekot declared world peeze and the banning of juvenile projectiles. She was supposed to know all their methods, but she supposed the parts of her brain involved with advanced shaping had fallen out with her original earlobes (she was wiggling her newly acquired curly-haired miraque ears like some lost lovechild of domain Val experiencing the joy of mating season for the first time with her prehensile tongue and half-a-dozen others). Simply stated, she had no idea about folding chairs and their use by horny commanders to snare potential love interests. Not that anyone would be interested in an old prune like her; anyways, Mrs. Dal had decided long ago that she was asexual, when her pinkie toes had exploded in the hot tub. Forbidden romance? A female of her age was simply too old to be involved in a steamy affair with a local military precipitate! They all wore such dreadful clothing. Black all day! And those imported tube-worm socks were too much. Mrs. Dal shook her head and sent pieces of ash-grey tentacles into the seats around her. An omnipotent “erggshk!” through the nostrils followed, interrupting the silence of the forest. Mrs. Dal flushed blue with embarrassment and wiped the residue with the fleshy umbrella she clutched in her arthritic hands. Drat Elan for making umbrellas so popular! Fifteen years or more dead and that annoying dirge the Eel Company pilots loved so much still stuck! She had met morgue workers cutting up bodies for the Maw Luur and smelling of dead fish who were prettier than that no good priss. Mrs. Dal gritted her prosthetic teeth and indented the green carpet with the vertex of the umbrella, using all the force her elbows could sustain. Gods knew how her arms didn’t fall off. When she turned her murky grey eyes back to the stage, Mrs. Dal discovered Vua Senneq was gone, and some other hip young fashionista was in her place. Another flurry of decayed flesh was flung from the Master Shaper’s headdress and the audience groaned. Like Tsavong Lah and one lucky villip mistress, Vua Senneq and who knew what were using the backstage dressing room for unholy purposes. Mrs. Dal’s ribs itched at the thought. It was about time to apply lotion to them, she thought. The amphitheater reeked of planet Sekot’s benevolence as she waited for the lights to go out. Mrs. Dal could almost see the trees smile as they closed in tighter, darkening the outdoor space. Suddenly, she did not feel so out of place in a crowed made of adolescents she would normally be suspected of participating in unsavory activities with if seen together by her fellow shapers. Silence inside the hollowed-out space lingered until Vua Senneq appeared, minutes later, on the speaker’s platform. Vua Senneq, wearing a headset with a built-in radio antennae. The style was called pre-Clone Wars era bounty hunter rustic, if Mrs. Dal had ever read the periodicals from Planet Huk Leaf Press. It was the stuff of fanboys and pheromonal bugs in long skirts, and apparently little girls in short skirts. Which meant it was a blasphemy. Vua Senneq looked like a blue iceman from a bad post-Imperial movie in addition to a pre-Clone Wars relic with unnatural hair and accessories. Historians would tear their own hair out and weave umbrellas. Lake Lichnie school district would ban said umbrellas. The Yam’rii would click their mandibles in delight. “What is this?” she demanded, getting up from the folding chair as it collapsed with a chomp. “In the period play fashion, we have decided to do this production on the abomination-wielding bounty hunters of yore and today,” she pronounced. So the careless mashing of eras was explained. The audience roared with applause, because Mandolorians were surely involved! Meanwhile, Jaina Solo did something irrelevant involving a soufflé and a flamethrower. “We have chosen this topic in spite of the results of our klekket-frequency poll. An anonymous writer suggested we show the movie adaptation of her books on Mandolorian bounty hunters. The video club council overwhelmingly approved of the idea, more than the adventures of Jek Tono Porkins.” A voice in the audience moaned in disappointment. “It was rigged! Those books were boring and had the bounty hunters doing irrelevant things!” An empty holofilm canister thrown in its direction silenced the dissenter. Mrs. Dal opened her umbrella as a few fruit rinds fell from the forest canopy. “So now, we present to you… In true Mandolorian fashion… As the Flitters Peck at My Face… The Life and Times of… Boba Fett!” Cartilage-free noses whistled in applause. The red curtains of the amphitheater shut, and a holofilm began to play…. -----signature----- "Thank you for the warning, but I still see the sun," "A little Vongforming never hurt no one!" Member of the General Grievous fanclub Member of the George R. Binks fanclub, whoo! Supporting Hutt Marriage since October '06
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Barriss_Coffee Registered: Jun '03	Date Posted: 4/10/08 8:50pm Subject: RE: Yun-Yammka in Escrow (Yuuzhan Vong OC, postwar) updated 4-4: Mandos, Jaina
	Touche, Kecen! I do believe you've hit the head on the nail with this one, as the Vong would say. -----signature----- SAN HILL LIVES!
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