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Topic:
2008 Saga Fanfic Awards Excerpt Thread (Voting begins!)
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SagaFanficAwards
Title: Fanfiction Awards Sock: The Saga
Registered:
Jun '06
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Date Posted:
6/24 1:04pm
Subject:
RE: 2008 Saga Fanfic Awards Excerpt Thread
- Date Edited:
7/2 12:14pm (8 edits total)
Edited By:
SagaFanficAwards
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Best Poem
A Tribute to the Mods by TrulyGhent
Often as I'm wandering, about the forums wide,
I wonder where the Mods unwind, relaxing on the side.
Sometimes I can't help, but imagine all the Mods,
gazing through a portal, like the Mount Olympus gods.
I'll bet they have a secret thread, where only Mods can come,
to talk about us mortals, or chitchat with their chums
They see us little users, scurrying about their feet.
When one of us has a problem, their help do we entreat.
I get a little jealous, but without the Mods employed,
we should have all kinds of strife, where then would be the joy?
They keep our little topics clean, they organize the threads.
why, if we didn't have the Mods, the forum would be dead!
For instance, say we fired Mods, and went along our way,
then we would be sorry, oh! The dreadful day!
If one of us had an error, say a message can't be sent,
we'd be lost without the Mods, then would we repent!
We'd hire all the Mods back on, that's the first we'd do
then we'd tell them that we're sorry, and to them be true.
To us the Mods are Jedi Knights, the keepers of the just
they are the guardians of peace, keep them on, we must
In writing this I mean no harm, I hope I am forgiven,
for if I find this not the case, I shall away be driven,
This poem is all quite innocent, no harm have I intended,
so this is my farewell, if my user name is ended.
Cinderelleia -- A Star Wars Christmas Panto by bi0nic
Author's Note: This is my attempt at doing a Star Wars Panto take on the Prince’s Ball scene from Cinderella in which the eponymous heroine has to make it home before midnight. Instead of glass slippers, Cinderelleia has been granted the iconic “cinnamon buns” hair-do by the Fairy Godmother.
Dramatis personae:
Narrator -- bi0nic
Cinderelleia -- Leia Organa/Carrie Fisher
Prince Charming -- Luke Skywalker/Mark Hammill
Buttons -- Han Solo/Harrison Ford
The Hardup Ugly Stepsisters -- Obi-Wan Kenobi and C-3PO
The Fairy Godmother -- Yoda
Narrator: Hello there and welcome to our audience, greetings one and all,
It's my pleasure to present to you now, the star-studded Prince's Ball.
And no, that's not the result of a tragic ninja attack,
It's the party of the millennium, so come in and have a snack.
Prince: In terms of alcohol and music, I'd have to say this party's cracking,
Although a serious letdown is that the talent's decidedly lacking.
Apart from the Bith band I booked's fine-looking backup singers,
The rest of the female crowd up in here is a proper bunch of mingers.
I can see the Hardup twin-sisters, and they are far from fit,
In fact, I think I can honestly say that I'd prefer the Sarlaac pit.
I can't think why all the invited hotties, are yet to arrive,
Unless of course they're put off by that scar, that I got between Episodes IV and V.
Narrator: At that very moment, an unknown Princess walked into the great hall,
And who was it? Why, Cinderelleia, the fairest of them all.
Prince: Phoar! By the Force, I say, what a cracking female stunner!
I just hope I can get in there before Janson, that prolific free tail-gunner.
My lady, might I be so bold as to ask you for the pleasure of this dance?
You're saucier than Blue Milk, don't tell me, you're from France?
Cinderelleia: Surely, my lord knows that Alderaan is truly all der rage,
But there is a French connection, sure, we all drink wine, even the underage.
Prince: Cor, I like the sound of you already, let's get you liquored up,
We've also got nibbles galore, from twiglets to snickers, yup.
Cinderelleia: While on pringles I'll gladly munch, of drinks I'll have none, my lord,
Methinks your desire to see me get rat-arsed is slightly untoward.
If any lewdness is in your mind, then what kind of girl do you think I am?
Between scrubbing it/debates on the floor, I haven't time for a single-mother's pram.
Prince: My dear sweet lady, you've got it all wrong, if I may make this intervention,
I can assure you right now that my mind only contains the very purest of intention.
May I compliment you, by the by, on your lovely, firm and round buns,
As far as eye candy goes with you, they're almost as nice as your guns.
Cinderelleia looks down to reveal a pair of blasters nestled in twin holsters hanging from her belt.
Cinderelleia: What, these?
Oh, you see, one has to carry something, round my ends for protection,
It can be pretty rough in my south Alderaan section.
While I do like you dancing with me and showing such affection,
I hope what you're pressing against me is not your . . . predilection,
For mere appearances, I believe beauty is more than follicle-deep,
The man who looks past my great barnet is the one that I'd keep.
Though when I first saw you, my heart did indeed leap,
I fear now that you may really be rather a creep.
Prince: While I agree our first meeting has been slightly tempestuous,
As yet we don't know that is it actually incestuous.
So I suggest we enjoy it while it does in fact last,
Oh doesn't time fly, it's already five past!
Cinderelleia: Five past twelve, oh no! I've got to be off at a canter,
Umm, you've obviously worn me out, my lord, from your witty high banter.
I don't even have time to see what on my way out I've forgot,
Oh never mind, I'm sure it won't be relevant to the plot.
Narrator: And so Cinderelleia did indeed race off back home,
So that the Fairy Godmother's magic would not her facade disown,
But in her hurry to get back to hers to catch a repeat of {i]Rome,[/i]
She did not realise that in her rush, she dropped her special, bun-creating hair-clip/comb.
What in the GFFA will our protagonist's fate be?
The only way to find out dear reader, is to wait for the concluding Act, Part 3!
In the Moonlight by Katana_Geldar
The door opens,
his long stride towards her,
her cheek kissed
and he continues without pause.
She follows him, hopeful.
How was your day? she asks
He doesn’t hear her,
the only sound is his shattered dreams.
Let me help you, she says
He sits down,
staring at the hand that isn’t his.
Isolated from the hearts that need him,
silencing his memories,
trying to forget himself.
Yet she can do nothing
as she was there.
His choice was for her and for them.
She goes to bed and he follows,
yet there is a message for him,
An old friend from another life.
He ponders, considers it…
Then deletes it without hearing
Unbreakable by DarthIshtar
Unbreakable
is what they call me
is what they have to believe
is what keeps me on duty rosters
through every tragedy
every loss
every nightmare
every day without
Han
Father
Mother
Alderaan
my sanity
myself
Those who fancy themselves honest call me
Unbroken
and that is as much
a lie
as the title of
Unbreakable.
who told them I was unbreakable?
what told them that?
was it the eternity that I stood in a war room
rather than lying
broken
and beaten and
vulnerable
in a medcenter somewhere below at Yavin?
was it the entirety of my rallying speech
after every
defeat
massacre
and atrocity that all my ideals
could not stop?
or is it the fact that I love
beneath the surface
of my duties?
Is it that I have lost the one man that
I dare to love
still
and forever
and I still fight
this
damned
war?
I am not
Unbroken.
I have never been
Unbreakable.
I have my
shatterpoints
and my
weak spots
but I allow myself to appear
Unbreakable
and Unbroken
not because I am ashamed
of my cracks
but because I
cannot control
who sees them.
What Am I Even Doing Here? by brodiew
Shooting through the atmosphere,
I have no idea what I'm doing here.
Landing heavy with a SPLASH,
My eyes are jolted by the FLASH
of shorting systems.
Ship is sinking in the muck
Giving me no time to truck
With what I don't NEED.
Droid goes flying in to the trees,
Emitting a long, uneasy wheeze.
I float him back with relative ease
His only reply a nasty sneeze.
Sitting in my little camp,
Feeling something cold and damp,
On my butt.
Though my landing was severely botched,
I can’t shake the felling I'm being watched.
Suddenly, I'm feeling famished,
And, as I reach for a sandwich,
What before my eye appears,
but a little gremlin with giant ears.
He makes his way right for my food,
This old and green and funny dude.
I really have no time to waste
As he rifles through my stuff with haste.
He manically throws my things about
As if a being with heavy clout,
Muttering nonsensically all the while,
Then flashing me a mischievous smile.
I tell him who I'm looking for,
But all that he can say is "more"
As he struts across the jungle floor
to kick me.
He says he knows whom I’m here to see
As he shuffles into the forest with glee.
He waves at me, a command to follow
But, in my mind, I’d rather wallow
In my disappointment.
Suddenly serious, he catches my ear,
As he rambles on about my fear,
Saying that the one is near
To tell me what I’m even doing here.
-----signature-----
Official Sock for the 2008 FFA--Saga Edition
Have questions about the awards? PM us!
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SagaFanficAwards
Title: Fanfiction Awards Sock: The Saga
Registered:
Jun '06
|
Date Posted:
6/24 1:04pm
Subject:
RE: 2008 Saga Fanfic Awards Excerpt Thread
- Date Edited:
7/2 4:47pm (3 edits total)
Edited By:
SagaFanficAwards
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Best Poem cont'd
{link=http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=27630160&brd=10476&replies=3]Stars{/link] By Quigonjecca
A poem following Luke’s thoughts after leaving Tatooine for the first time…
Stars,
They bring,
New hope?
My life is shattered,
The last remnants,
Scattered like the stars,
They are irretrievable.
Sand,
Once my playground,
Gone?
Will I ever see it again?
It is everywhere,
Swirling,
Scattered,
Shattered.
Suns,
Twin Mothers of the Desert,
Will I ever feel
Your rays?
Or behind me,
Do you lie?
Family,
What does it mean?
They are gone,
I couldn’t save them.
Now,
Is it my fault?
Guilt,
It will forever plague me.
Was it my error,
Or those stupid droids?
Could I have prevented it?
Or saved them?
Destiny,
I will embrace it,
I have to.
What other choices do I have?
Dreams,
Do I dare to dream them?
Or forever will I be haunted,
By the last dream I dared to dream?
Imperial Academy?
Was I so blind?
Am I that naïve?
Joy,
Happiness?
What are these things?
They are memories,
Of a long forgotten life,
That only ended,
Minutes ago?
Sorrow,
And your companion loss,
I thought I knew you.
But I knew nothing.
Now, I am nothing,
Or am I starting anew?
Cold,
Is like death,
Is like space.
It is too far reaching,
And difficult to fathom.
Will I ever,
Understand?
Alone,
Yet not alone.
Hope,
Yet hopeless.
Where am I going?
Skywalker,
What does that name mean?
Am I someone,
Or no one?
Jedi,
Or Farmer?
Hope,
It is all that I have,
To hold on to.
I must embrace it,
I must hold onto it,
What else can I do?
Stars,
They bring,
New hope?
My life is shattered,
The last remnants,
Scattered like the stars,
But I will try to hold on.
I will try to embrace my destiny.
I will try…
-----signature-----
Official Sock for the 2008 FFA--Saga Edition
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SagaFanficAwards
Title: Fanfiction Awards Sock: The Saga
Registered:
Jun '06
|
Date Posted:
6/24 1:04pm
Subject:
RE: 2008 Saga Fanfic Awards Excerpt Thread
- Date Edited:
6/30 8:34pm (8 edits total)
Edited By:
SagaFanficAwards
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Best Crossover
Guitar Hero by LilyHobbitJedi
“Blast!” thought Obi-Wan Kenobi. It wasn’t the first time he couldn’t find his Padawan, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. He and Anakin were scheduled for a mission the following day, and he needed to tell him. And for some reason he couldn’t find Anakin…again. Obi-Wan sighed and reached out with the Force, but to no avail, Anakin didn’t respond.
Obi-Wan was starting to head back towards his quarters when he suddenly heard laughter. When the Jedi Master decided to investigate, he finally discovered where Anakin was at last. His Padawan was preoccupied, but not with some droid he was rebuilding, but a hologame of some sort. He moved closer to look at it without disturbing Anakin.
On the screen showed different colored dots hurtling down the screen to the end where, Obi-Wan figured Anakin had to hit the corresponding button at the right time on a peculiar looking instrument of some sort. The character onscreen had an instrument as well and seemed to follow Anakin’s moves. And the music…who listened to this stuff and why did they still have hearing?
The song ended, and Anakin then noticed Obi-Wan’s presence immediately. “Master!” he exclaimed worriedly.
“I’ve been looking all over for you, Padawan,” Obi-Wan said softly. “But I can see that your mind was elsewhere.”
“I’m sorry Master,” Anakin apologized. “But Guitar Hero is the most wizard game I’ve ever seen!”
“Guitar Hero?” Obi-Wan asked quizzically.
“Yes, strange name,” Anakin agreed. “But it must have been made with Jedi in mind, because you need amazing reflexes for it.”
“How did you get this game?” Obi-Wan asked suspiciously.
“I didn’t,” Anakin answered. “It was just here one day. All the other Padawans having been playing it too.”
“Interesting,” Obi-Wan said uninterested. “Still, there are other things to be focusing on instead of some child’s game.”
“If it’s for children,” Anakin said, a slow grin forming on his face. “Then you should have no problems playing it, Master.”
Obi-Wan sighed and knew he’d walked right into this one, and the only way to satisfy Anakin’s curiosity would be to play the game. “Ok, I’ll play.”
The older Jedi put the strap of the controller around his shoulder and then moved to select a song. He picked the very first one, Slow Ride.
Obi-Wan found immediately that Anakin was right. First he was highly confused as to why nothing happened when he pressed the buttons; until he learned a short time after that he needed to strum it at the same time. Anakin watched with rapt attention, trying not to burst out laughing at his Master’s frustration.
To say that he had issues at first would be a fact, but it was also true that he soon got the hang of it. And soon Obi-Wan was just as engrossed as Anakin had been. He played more and more, and finally he beat the final level, a difficult battle with some strange devilish being. After the game was beat, he turned to Anakin.
“That wasn’t so difficult.” He remarked.
“Master,” Anakin said in a pained voice. “Do you realize you’ve been playing for over an hour and a half and I’ve left the room at least 3 times while you were going at it.”
“Really?” Obi-Wan said pleasantly. “Well, I do have admit it was a brilliant reflex training exercise.”
“Master!” Anakin exclaimed with a long suffering look. “Can’t you just admit it was fun?”
“Training can be fun, my Padawan,” Obi-Wan replied nonchalant. Then seeing the somewhat disgusted look on Anakin’s face he chuckled. “Yes, it was quite enjoyable. But I still say their taste in music has much to be desired.”
Anakin only rolled his eyes.
~~~~~
A small being with wrinkled green skin and two long pointed ears watched the two Jedi leaving the training room. “Knew they would like it, I did.” Yoda said to himself hobbling into the training room. Setting down his gimer stick and putting the guitar strap across his shoulder and adjusting it, the Jedi Master faced the screen. “Be a Guitar Hero, I will be.”
Everybody Lies by LilyHobbitJedi
“Hello sick beings and their loved ones. In the interest of saving time and a lot of boring chit chat later, I’m Dr. Gregg House. You can call me Gregg. I’m one of three doctors staffing this clinic this morning—”
Cuddy hearing his speech quickly interrupted him. “Short, sweet. Grab a file.”
House ignored her and continued speaking.“This ray of sunshine is Dr. Lisa Cuddy. Dr. Cuddy runs this whole hospital so, unfortunately, she’s much too busy to deal with you. I am a bored,” House paused and sent a meaningful glance towards Cuddy.
“Certified diagnostician with a triple specialty in infectious diseases, humans and non-humans. I’m also the only doctor currently employed at this clinic who is here against his will. That is true, isn’t it?” House glanced at Cuddy again, who just stared at him.
“But not to worry, because for most of you this job could be done by a Gungan with a bottle of bacta. Speaking of which, if you’re particularly annoying, you may see me reach for this,” House paused and pulled a hypo out of his pocket.
“This is Vicona. It’s mine. You can’t have any. And no, I do not have a pain management problem, I have a pain problem. But who knows? Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m too stoned to tell,” at this House bugged his eyes out, freaking out the patients even more.
“ So, who wants me?” House asked. And just as he expected, every single patient in the room averted their eyes. He grinned.
“And who would rather wait for one of the other two doctors?” He asked. This time every being in the clinic raised their hands. House was suddenly very proud of himself.
“Okay, well, I’ll be in Exam Room 1 if you change your mind,” he replied, limping away to the room.
~~~~~
“I have a case,” House protested.
“Which will have to wait,” Cuddy replied, handing House a datacard. “See you in court.”
“If my patient dies I’m blaming you!” House shouted after her.
“You’re killing your patient?” said Wilson, walking over to his friend.
“Only temporarily.” House said. “Want to come to my hearing?”
“Really House, I have been to so many of those.” Wilson replied with a sigh.
~~~~~
“She has a virus,” House replied.
“A virus?” Cameron asked skeptically. “But she has no fever.”
“Yeah, I’m her doctor too, I figured that out. And do you know why she doesn’t have a fever?” House asked.
“Bith body temperature is different than humans,” the patient’s husband said.
“Exactly,” House said. “She has Dantooine’s Dantari flu. A fairly common bug, but it can be fatal if not treated quickly. Your wife is now on the very edge of that threshold.”
The male Bith gasped in horror.
“Another reason we wouldn’t have thought of Dantari flu is that it seldomly affects Bith,” House explained. Then he glanced at his team. “Treat her.”
~~~~~
There were two Jedi in the room, a middle aged man and a teenager.
“Let me guess,” House said to them. “Ran out of fairy dust?”
“Beg your pardon?” The older Jedi said surprised, with a clipped Coruscanti accent.
“I thought you guys had your own special little healers. So why in galaxy’s sake are you bothering me?” House asked.
“Master,” the younger Jedi started, but was silenced when the other Jedi raised a hand.
“My Padawan is ill and requires medical assistance and we are several parsecs from Coruscant,” the older Jedi explained.
“I don’t care,” House replied irritated. “So what’s wrong?”
“I can’t stop coughing,” the teenager replied. “And I’ve been exhausted lately.”
“This couldn’t wait until you got back to your oh so holier than thou Jedi Temple?” House asked.
“We’re not going back now,” the young Jedi replied looking as if he was getting angry.
“Oh did I hurt your itsy bitsy feelings?” House asked snottily.
“Doctor, neither I nor my Padawan appreciate being treated this way,” the elder Jedi responded.
House rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Bonadan cough,” he said writing a prescription down and handing it to the Jedi. “Two days and you’ll be fine.”
~~~~~
“What a horrible doctor!” Anakin Skywalker exclaimed as soon as the door to the exam room was closed.
“He definitely takes pleasure out of getting a rise out of people,” his master Obi-Wan Kenobi replied. “There are many such beings in the galaxy.”
“How does he even have a job when he treats people like that?” Anakin asked.
“I’m guessing his bravado covers up the fact that he is a medical prodigy. I believe I’ve heard of this Dr. House before,” Obi-Wan commented mildly.
“Well I hope I never see that guy again,” Anakin replied.
“Actually,” Obi-Wan replied. “That’s just the sort of character that Master Qui-Gon would’ve befriended.”
Unleashed by JadeMax_and_Brentus
The universe was vast, the cosmos always a beacon from which he could not turn away, nor would he ever fully understand. And that was his lament as well: for all he'd seen, for all he'd done, no matter how far and long he searched, answers would always elude him.
He'd searched himself in those days, weeks since...
The answers were only questions in disguise. His reflection had become a hideous monstrosity - empty of humanity - fused with metallic implants. Constant nightmares gripped him, chilled his bones as he lay awake in his bed at night, barely daring to close his eyes. Waking moments were bizarre twists of reality - friends, whispering in corners, stopping as he came near - eyes watching him at all times, waiting for a relapse.
Why did it happen in the first place?
Empty rhetoric about boldly going where no one has gone before echoed through his mind. They were just words now. So hollow - so completely devoid of the fire that once set his soul alight. His higher purpose - his identity - had come crashing to the ground from the stars he loved so much; it created a void within him greater than a million universes of cold, sinister space.
A wanting, glassy stare met his in the mirror. It was like gazing into eternity - so vast, and yet fragile. All the brave words about creating a new, improved humanity, free of violence sounded so far from anything he once knew. He hated them for what they'd done. He feared them for what they could do in the face of apathy he saw in his comrades - they didn't understand the voracity of his foe, they could only cast a faint shadow against the body of what he had been.
He was Locutus of Borg.
**
Anakin Skywalker dropped from the transport onto the main deck in the Jedi Temple's hangar bay before turning just in time to catch the bags thrown at his head. His right hand shot out instinctively, the new black glove which covered the mechanical appendage creaking with the move. "Hey, watch it!"
Obi-Wan Kenobi chuckled as he stepped down next to his Padawan. "Your reflexes are improving, Anakin. You didn't have to think about that one."
Anakin shot his Master a dirty look. "I haven't had to think about them in months, Master."
Obi-Wan clapped Anakin on the shoulder. "It certainly didn't slow you down on Nivek."
"Thanks for noticing." Anakin's retort was dry. "Not that I'm complaining, but why were we recalled to Coruscant, Master?"
"Why else, Anakin?" Obi-Wan moved ahead of him, leaving Anakin to carry both bags. "The council needs our report."
"Couldn't we just submit it like normal?" Anakin hefted the bags in his mechanical hand, barely noticing the weight as he unconsciously used the Force to minimize the burden.
Obi-Wan turned and arched an eyebrow. "Everyone, even Jedi, need time off the front lines, Anakin. We've been on patrol for over three months; surely some time spent away from battle is not so objectionable?"
Anakin remained silent. Objectionable? No. But he'd have much rather spent their downtime on Naboo with his wife rather than being stuck in the temple where his guard would need to be kept daily. The only bright side of trying to keep a secret from one's Master was the practice it gave. Anakin's mental shields had developed quickly as he'd been forced to master the ability to prevent thoughts from leaking out.
**
With a cry, Padme threw herself from her chair and across the room. "Anakin!"
He laughed, enfolding her in a hug and spun her around as her delighted laughter joined his. He set her on her feet, staring down into her eyes and letting her read the intent in his. His lips were on hers a moment later, his hands possessive and purposeful on her body as he drew her near.
"Anakin, we ca-"
He stopped her protest with his lips.
She tried again, her will against him weakening as her body responded to his touch - a touch she'd missed more than she'd confided to anyone. "Someone could see-"
"Hush." He kissed her again, this time quickly before pulling away. His hands had shifted and were now cupping her face. "I sent them away."
"But Anakin-"
His lips settled over hers, taking advantage of hers being open to deepen the kiss. She practically melted in his arms, clinging to him as he kissed her into a boneless mass of desire. She'd been simmering since he'd left and now, suddenly finding herself back in his arms, she found all thoughts of food had flown, overtaken by a more insistent, more demanding appetite. One that was as ravenous as his own and demanding satisfaction.
All Safe Places by MsLanna
It was one of those days, you know, those that never really happen and therefore can be labelled AU at will. The Star Destroyer Poohnisher orbited a small green-and-blue planet, as yet unaware of it's sudden change in spelling. From now own, the day was also a crossover, and the readers ran for cover. (Thanks for reading up 'til here, anyway.  ).
(…)
Without boring everybody how come that Vader and Jango are in this together, I just fast forward to the crossover part.
(…)
They had almost reached their destinations, when they came upon a small and very pink creature that was collecting acorns. When it saw the two towering figures approach, it dropped its goods with a squeak and ran. Not very far though, as Vader reached out with the force and brought it up into his grip.
"What. Is. That?" Vader held Piglet up to Jango's visor at the scruff of his neck.
The small animal scrambled around in the air wildly. Finally, in his scared effort to get away from the intimidating black shadow, he managed to wrap his arms around Jango's helmet and hold on tight. Covering his eyes with his ears, he hung there, a quivering pink mass of hyperventilating panic.
"My sensors analysis makes it to be 60% cotton, 30% polyester and 10% elastane, and identifies it as," there was a pause, "a stuffed animal."
"Hello, Piglet," a voice came from the height of Fett's knee. "What are you doing up there?"
Piglet lifted one ear from an eye and glanced down. "Oh, h-hello, Pooh."
Before he could explain anything, though, Jango pried him off the helmet. Dangling several feet over the ground again, Piglet immediately put his ears over his eyes and resumed quivering, while Fett scanned the newcomer.
"Another," he stated.
Vader turned his mask to face the cuddly yellow bear with a red shirt. After measuring it for a moment he levelled his finger at it. "I find your lack of pants disturbing."
Pooh cocked his head to the side and scratched himself behind an ear, considering the remark. Of course, that took some time.
"Why?" he finally replied.
Unused to such a stupid degree of insubordination, Vader finally let his anger free and force choked the yellow bear. Not that it showed much of an effect. Pooh scratched his neck absentmindedly, still regarding the cowering Piglet. It's pretty hard to suffocate a stuffed animal. Finally, the Dark Lord left off, feeling a little better, even though the object of his endeavours was not squirming in pain at his feet. If he wanted squirming, he only had to look at Piglet anyway.
"The sensors still detect no sign of life," the bounty hunter stated, poking the pink animal.
"Fett, leave the pink thing. You can take samples later," Vader ordered. "First we need to find a way back. Is that Christopher Robin your leader?" He asked Pooh.
"He is the oldest and most wisest in all the Hundred Acre Wood," Pooh confirmed. "Except for Owl, maybe."
"Good, take us to him. He has some things to explain."
Blue Sun Down by Darth Marrs
“Uh, Mal?” Jayne said from the door into the storage room.
“What?” Mal asked.
“There’s a whole gorram army out here. Want that I should shoot ‘em?”
“How many?” Mal asked.
“More men ‘n I have bullets,” Jayne said, defeat in his voice.
“Just shiny,” Mal muttered. He looked from the stunned doctor to where River sat on her knees next to the now completely silent Long John. The man had his head bent down to his knees as if in prayer. He’d stopped sobbing, and now was just sitting there with River’s hand on his shoulder. She was singing to him under her breath; Mal couldn’t catch the words.
“We’re humped,” Mal summed up.
Jayne backed away as the door exploded open and a wave of security soldiers with Blue Sun patches on their sleeves flooded the narrow passage between the rows upon rows of coffins, some of which contained aliens even stranger looking than the blue tentacle girl.
“Weapons down! On the floor, now!” several of the soldiers yelled.
Jayne dropped his guns and hit the floor as three men descended on him while the rest rushed forward to Mal, the Doctor, River and John. “You know impersonating an Alliance officer is a pretty hefty crime,” Mal said. “You ‘n me, we’re dead men.”
“But now we know,” Simon said. “Afolabi was right. There are aliens, and the Alliance knows about them.”
Then the soldiers were there. Gloved fists struck Simon and sent him sprawling to the floor. Mal knew better than to wait and dropped down on his own. “Simon Tam!” one of the soldiers said, “You and your accomplices are bound by law.”
From the midst of the soldiers came the receptionist, her eyes blazing and a pistol in her hand. “Where’s River?” she demanded.
Soldiers pointed the way and she stepped from their midst to survey the damage. She saw the open cryo-tanks and the two criminals in Alliance uniform. She saw River on her knees next to the large man the imposters had called her companion. She was singing softly.
She leveled the gun at River. “Who is he?” she demanded.
River stared back at her for the longest time, and then smiled. The receptionist took a step back.
When River’s half-audible song ended, the man looked up. The receptionist backed up even further and the barrel of her gun dipped as the man slowly stood. River rose to her feet beside him, orbiting him like a moon. He looked down at River by his side, at Mal and Simon, then finally back at the armed receptionist.
“Her name was Aayla Secura,” he said, pointing at the blue tentacle woman. His deep, growling voice silenced the soldiers throughout the passageway. “She was only twenty-seven.” He pointed to the first coffin they opened. “Her name was Lorana Jinzler. She was only twenty-two when you killed her.” He reached over his head and touched another coffin. He closed his eyes as if absorbing the essence of the body within. “This was a child. Her name was Allara. She was twelve.”
He captured the Blue Sun receptionist with a gaze that made the whole room grow as cold as the tanks it housed. “These were my friends and comrades. My family. You murdered them; you cut them. You desecrated their bodies with your mad, Sith-spawned experiments. You want to know who I am?’
He stepped forward and every soldier there brought their weapons to bear on him. “YOU WANT TO KNOW WHO I AM?” he shouted. Then just as quickly his voice dropped to a whisper of death. “I am Jedi Master Quinlan Vos, and I bring you justice!”
With a roar and a stomp of his foot, Vos’s hands exploded in a torrent of blue lightning that flashed through the woman and every person still standing. The woman’s screams and the screams of the soldiers behind her rang through the passage, reverberating back into a cacophony of death.
The silence that followed was just as deafening. Mal picked himself up and looked over his shoulder at thirty dead soldiers and one dead receptionist. Their bodies still steamed. Then he looked at the man standing in the middle of the hall, his face warped by rage, his eyes flickering with an odd, semi-orange light.
Suddenly River swung around to face him. She placed her hands on his, ignoring the danger of the lightning that lived there. She looked up at him with an expression of such openness, such trust, it even made Mal wince. “Now you know who you are,” she whispered loud enough for all to hear. “Don’t forget again.”
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SagaFanficAwards
Title: Fanfiction Awards Sock: The Saga
Registered:
Jun '06
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Date Posted:
6/24 1:04pm
Subject:
RE: 2008 Saga Fanfic Awards Excerpt Thread
- Date Edited:
7/2 2:50pm (7 edits total)
Edited By:
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Best Short Story
Pieces of Air by Knight_Aragorn
“... grounded all the airspeeders in the fleet for the time being. It’s brought the survey missions to a halt, and Base Command aren’t too happy, but General Rieekan is insisting.”
Luke shook his head in frustration. “All I remember is the controls locking up, and even that’s not very clear. It’s all a haze.”
Wedge, sitting in a chair by Luke’s bed, gave him a sympathetic look. Luke didn’t like the look much. Too many people had been wearing it around him since he woke up; it made him itch in a way he couldn’t define. “It’ll come back in time.”
“That’s not good enough. We don’t have time.” Luke glared at the foot of his bed. His legs were aching again. The med droid said it might be weeks before he would be fully recovered; he hadn’t even been allowed out of bed yet and he’d been awake, on and off, for three days. “I remember being in the mess hall that morning. After that it’s all a blank, except for – for random flashes, flashes that don’t tell me anything. I remember walking towards the speeder, thinking about my helmet feeling tight, I remember thinking about those manoeuvres we were doing last week as I went over that ice field we used, I remember–” swearing panicked engines spluttering sick plummeting whirling white pain red hot cold “– that’s it. That’s all I remember.”
His hands, clenched around the white bedsheets, were shaking. He felt cold, even though the med bay was kept at steady room temperature. He hated snow, he’d decided. Loathed it.
“That’s not unexpected, Luke,” Wedge said. The carefulness of his tone told Luke that Wedge had seen the shaking too. “You sustained pretty severe trauma back there.”
“Don’t placate me, Wedge.” Luke recognised the tone of voice. He’d used it himself on occasion, knew the lines. It’s not your fault. Just concentrate on getting well.
“Sorry. You know it’s true, though.”
Luke shook his head, dismissing the issue. “When are they retrieving… the speeder?” The body, he thought, Pag’s body, but it was too hard to say. Was that callous, or just cowardly? It could have been him. Perhaps it should have been.
“They got it yesterday morning – it had been buried in the storm. Techs are going over it as we speak. They’ll find out what went wrong.”
“It was supposed to be a routine patrol.”
“Yeah. It was.”
Luke stared at nothing. “Did Pag have a family?”
Wedge hesitated. “I don’t know. I didn’t know him very well.”
Luke closed his eyes, then opened them. “Find out for me, Wedge?”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“He shouldn’t have died like that.” Luke was shivering again. He clenched his fists to hide the weakness.
Wedge stood. “I should go,” he said. He put a hand on Luke’s shoulder briefly, uncertainly. “Get some rest, Luke. We need our commander back.”
Luke managed a nod, but didn’t look at Wedge. The other man left, the door hissing closed behind him.
Portrait of a Lady by Gina
I hadn't known it then, but it was to be a beginning…
Awkward introductions that day led to a casual acquaintance, the sort that often grows from a discovered common bond when in the midst of strangers. The more time we spent together, I realized how different she was from many females her age. She had no patience for frivolous topics, and her love of politics resided not in a desire for personal glory and achievement but in the longing to help others. She was passionate in her beliefs, yet it was a quiet passion, her restraint and dignity in the debate chambers speaking volumes, much more so than the long-winded blustering of many of our young colleagues.
Yet no matter how brief our meetings or how intense our workload, she always found time to inquire about my sketches, her eyes glowing with wonder when I would reluctantly show her my latest efforts.
She always believed in me, even when I couldn't believe in myself.
Sighing heavily from the weight of old memories, I turn from my task of cleaning the spattered red paint from my studio walls. Discarding the damp rags and cleaning agents, I press a button on the control unit, and the holoscreen comes to life.
The HoloNews continues to broadcast reports of Padmé's death, life and legacy. But interspersed with the archival footage of our former queen are continued reports from Coruscant concerning an attempted coup by the Jedi Order. The announcer recounts yet again how the Jedi tried to assassinate the Supreme Chancellor, but this time he even hints at rumors that the Order may have been involved in Padmé's death.
Disgusted, I deactivate the holoscreen. To the Naboo, the Jedi are heroes. The story of their heroism during the Battle of Naboo is part of our planet's history. Padmé trusted the Jedi, and I believe her judgment to be sound. For our people, rumors that the Jedi are murderous traitors won't easily be believed.
I can still remember the grand celebration marking the end of the conflict. Standing atop the podium, our young queen had looked radiant and truly happy. She had led her people well, and my heart had swelled with pride for her.
She was so young, yet there was so much promise. But now…only the gods will know what imprints she could have left on our galaxy's history. I turn to stare at that first sketch of the lake country, the one that had caused her to stop and take notice on that fateful afternoon.
That beautiful young stranger had been the first being to see me for what I could be, rather than for who my family thought I should be.
*********
"Why don't you just tell him?" she asked.
He laughed bitterly. "Don't you think that I've tried, Padmé? He doesn't care."
The late afternoon sun was warming, but Palo found little comfort in its golden rays as they walked through the ornate courtyard, surrounded by small groups of their fellow students lounging on the grass. The Young Legislator's Program was only mid-way through the season's session, and the galaxy's youth gathered here were eagerly anticipating the mock elections that would soon take place. It was an election in which Palo was a candidate for the position of Supreme Chancellor, much to his family's delight.
"But it's your life," Padmé continued. "You should be happy, and if this isn't what you want..."
"My father doesn't see it that way," Palo argued. His pace quickened as his anger grew, his long legs and gait making it difficult for Padmé to keep up with him. "Happiness is found in money and position. If his only son turned away from the realm of politics to become a lowly artist, he would be humiliated. In his eyes, I will have brought dishonor to my family."
Padmé's hand slipped into Palo's, and she tugged slightly, forcing him to stop. Palo turned to look at her.
"But if you do not follow your heart, Palo," she said softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, "won't you be dishonoring yourself?"
Despite her simplistic reasoning, Palo couldn't help but smile at the young woman standing before him. Over the last few weeks, their friendship had begun to grow much closer. Palo reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from Padmé's face, but much to his own surprise, his hand lingered there, softly fingering the mass of silken curls. Palo stared down at her, feeling as if he was truly seeing her for the first time.
"You are a rare creature, Padmé," he whispered. In his words, there was a new curiosity, a hint of yearning. And as Padmé returned his gaze, Palo saw that same hint of longing shining in her dark eyes.
Must Hate Ewoks by DarthIshtar
Dare: Write a series of 8 love letters between a rebel soldier and his "lady friend" - a high ranking official in the Empire.
Do not include the words 'love' 'hate' 'empire' 'rebellion'.
Strong-willed SWF seeks intelligent SHF with a rebellious streak and a passion for weaponry. I am an ambitious, well-respected career woman who has been looking for Lieutenant Right in all the wrong places. Must despise Ewoks.
*****
Fun-loving SHM seeks spunky SHF for an off-the-wall epic romance or just a really good noogie. I can leap tall buildings in a single bound and have brought galactic peace to at least three anthills. I need someone just as crazy as I am. Must adore Ewoks.
******
Alliance Delta Base mess hall surveillance audio, 1900-1910 transcript
"So, you think she's really into you, huh?"
"Definitely."
"I don't know. You picked her up from a personal ad in Ruthless holomag. What kind of girl reads those personals anyway?"
"The cute ones, Hobbie. She's got blue eyes. I like that in a woman."
"I still think you might be reading too much into this."
"Reading, schmeading, Tycho. Wedge, back me up here. You've read her letters."
"She does seem strangely compatible. I had to take a shower afterwards, though."
"A shower? Why?"
"Someone calling Wes formidable and attractive."
"True. Has she used the 'l' word yet?"
"What, lum?"
"No, l..."
"Skywalker, someday you're going to have to learn that a good relationship is based on patience and understanding."
"Hasn't written you in a week, has she?"
"Shut up, Luke."
*****
Dear Ysanne,
Happy Sweetheart's Day! Will you be my sweetheart? I guess that's something of a pointless question, since you're still writing to me every week, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to ask.
I guess we'll have to take a raincheck on the camping trip indefinitely. We just moved again (It's hard being a galactic man of mystery, doncha know?) and this place is HORRIBLE for camping. I've never been to Tatooine, but my buddy Luke says it's like Tatooine without the charming tourist attractions. Desert, desert, desert all around, plus we stick out like a lump on a glass plate with our base.
Then again, from that holo you sent me, I wouldn't mind me and you doing some sunbathing one of these days. Things have been pretty boring on base, because they tightened security. On the other hand, we've been involved in a lot of battles, making progress one star at a time, so things aren't too bad.
I hope you don't have someone to hold you tight tonight because I'd rather be the one to do it.
With julaberry cream pies,
Wes
*****
Dear Wes,
Happy Sweetheart's Day to you. It would be easier to be your sweetheart if I knew where to find you. Fortunately, there are not many planets with 'desert, desert, desert all around.' Maybe one of these days I could come for a surprise visit. I'd like to meet you personally.
My work is all-consuming at this point, so I am glad to have a kind of respite in the form of our relationship. Wear your sunscreen and write often so we both survive the boredom.
Yours,
Ysanne
*****
Dear Wes,
I have suspected for some time that we are on opposing sides of the conflict that is gripping our fair galaxy. I would like to correct that. You have demonstrated yourself to be a cunning person of intelligence. I am the same and it is a crime that we cannot be united in purpose.
There is a place for you on my side of things. Even if you choose not to join my staff, we have the finest squadrons known to the history of warfare. We fight for just causes and you have many skills that could be used to our advantage.
Yours,
Ysanne
Wes,
I will take that flimsipic of your bared buttocks as a no. I regret that this would never work between us. You are a seditious scum. I am a successful and loyal schemer. While we share admirable qualities, you do not know the value of devoting them to a noble cause. I will say for now farewell until we meet.
Ysanne
Ysanne,
That was a no. I regret that you wouldn't know the meaning of "noble" if it bit you on your angular nose. I'm a seditious scum, but I'm a damn cute seditious scum. Gimme a comm if you ever catch up to me. And no, this would have never worked. Ewoks come first.
Wes
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SagaFanficAwards
Title: Fanfiction Awards Sock: The Saga
Registered:
Jun '06
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Date Posted:
6/24 1:05pm
Subject:
RE: 2008 Saga Fanfic Awards Excerpt Thread
- Date Edited:
7/2 12:55pm (6 edits total)
Edited By:
SagaFanficAwards
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Best Epic
What the Heart Hides by Valairy_Scot
The Force had accepted many home this day, departed from Jabiim for all time.
For a mere moment, the rain had stopped, hesitant to break the hush that lay below. Rain was life, so without life, how could there be rain?
There now was no one to hear the soft patter of raindrops, but then as if with a soft gasp, the rain felt life among the lifeless, and as if letting out its breath, it sought again to give what had so nearly disappeared. Gentle drops fell, like tears, caressing the cold cheeks of the fallen, sliding over plasti-steel coatings, and kissing the brow of the once living.
Silence had fallen in this corner of Jabiim. The lips of the dead no longer spoke, the eyes that once saw were now blank, and the hands that once held weapons now held only eternity.
What had been a battlefield not long before; full of movement and screams, hoarse orders, and the sound of blaster bolts was now an open grave. Silence replaced the noise of battle, smoke curled from the ruins of the machines of war. Troops once locked in battle were now locked in the rictus of violent death.
This Republic force on Jabiim was wiped out. Within that vast carnage crouched just one man, neither knowing nor caring that a few others approached.
His eyes swiveled around him. So much death…clone troops in disorderly rows of white, tumbled every which way, playing pieces on a game board of life and death…Jedi, padawans to knights, sprawled in mud but whose spirits were now one with the Force...he looked down and touched the cheek of the padawan at his feet. Young, so young … smooth cheeked, peacefully asleep in a slumber that was forever…his padawan, now never to be a knight.
His dying had not been easy, curling his body on his side in an attempt to stave off the pain. Death had been far kinder than the dying, turning the curl of tightly pressed lips into a half smile of acceptance. Drops from above pooled in an open palm, one turned to the sky, in silent supplication or benediction, and in that palm one could not discern drops from the sky from the tears from the face above.
“There is no pain…” General Norcuna whispered, his eyes affixed on the young Jedi at his feet, as he kneeled amongst his dead, “…there is only death.”
Around him lay his entire force, wiped out. He was the only one left to mourn the dead, for the few minutes of life remaining to him – the last survivor, the last Jedi, for Death now stood at his shoulder: Commando Alto Stratus of the Jabiim Separatists.
Death could take him; the Jedi no longer cared for his own fate.
He gently brushed a hand over the young man’s face, closing the open eyes. A padawan should not see his master’s violent end, no matter that the padawan had already seen his own.
“No pain?” Stratus whispered, his rage tearing through the Force, anger dripping as spittle from the mouth of a Rancor. “My cousin died in pain – shot by your troops – crushed by your machines. She knew the meaning of pain. Jedi might not know the meaning of pain, but I do.”
Stratus grabbed the general by his tail knot and jerked his head upright. “You shall know it now.”
“There is no death, there is only the Force,” General Norcuna said simply. He raised his eyes to those of Stratus, calm eyes meeting blazing ones. “I am sorry for your pain.”
“Be sorry for your own,” Stratus hissed.
A moment later he stood triumphant, a bloody blade in his hand, the last survivor alive no longer. Jedi General Norcuna lay dead at his feet – and Stratus smiled.
He re-sheathed his weapon as he looked down upon the prone body, suddenly scowling. The Jedi had died too easily, without one word of protest, one hand still clasped tight to that of the young Jedi at whose side he had collapsed. Whatever bonds had held the two still held in death as in life.
Accursed Jedi! A growl tore from his throat, a dagger of grief and betrayal that pierced the sky. His troops shifted uneasily behind him; their leader had grasped the enemy’s heart and drenched the sodden ground in his blood - and found it was not enough.
“The Jedi are nothing but the bearers of suffering. May your kind soon vanish from the galaxy.” He spat, carefully, on the entwined hands, and then turned to face his troops.
“If you find any wounded, kill them, and let their bodies rot where they fell. Let them find destiny in the mouths and stomachs of scavengers.”
This Time Around by Idrelle_Miocovani
Jaina remained standing, refusing to even give him an answer. “How do you know who I am?” she asked coolly.
“I can sense a time traveler as soon as they appear in the Galaxy,” Palpatine answered quietly. “Their arrival creates a certain… disturbance… in the Force that only those who have traveled through time can feel. Depending on the skill of the Force-sensitive, you can also pinpoint the exact time period from where the time travelers are arriving from. I felt you and Master Durron arrive long before I met you on Grievous’ ship. I knew exactly when you came from, but I wasn’t yet certain of who had arrived. There were a number of possibilities – there are so many Jedi in your era – so I was still surprised when I saw you for the first time.
“You see, Jaina, I have traveled far and wide, through many time periods and through many realities. There are many things you do not know about time travel – the future is never set in stone. When traveling into the future, the things you see there could easily be wiped out as soon as you travel back to a moment in the past.”
Palpatine hesitated; his lips curled into a cruel smile as he continued.
“I have seen the rise of the Hapan Empire, seven hundred years from now. I have seen the Jedi devolve into nothing more than slaves, controlled by the power of the ysalamiri. I have seen the end of the Galaxy itself, with its people struggling for life and stories of the ancient Republic little more than mythologies passed down word by word, father to sons, mothers to daughters…” He looked her directly in the eye. “I have seen many futures where you have been born, and others were you haven’t. But in all the futures where you have been born, Jaina, you have always been so… spirited. Talented. Of all the people I could have wanted to discover the mysteries of time and appear here, in my own period, you were the one who could make it the most… interesting.”
Jaina tilted her chin. Her thoughts were whirling… why was he trying to flatter her? If he expected these remarks to lure her into lowering her defenses, he was wrong. But then, maybe it had nothing to do with this. Maybe Palpatine did not know what would happen in his future, in the future Jaina and Kyp were attempting to change. He said that the future was not set in stone – perhaps he didn’t know about the Rebellion, about Darth Vader’s betrayal, about the New Jedi Order and the Yuuzhan Vong war…
“Chancellor,” Jaina said, her eyes narrowed dangerously, “what is it about me that could possibly interest you?”
Palpatine chuckled – a sound Jaina did not like at all. “My dear, your talents are, to put it lightly, extraordinary. After all, the granddaughter of the Chosen One must have inherited many of his abilities. And then to have you discover the mysteries of time…” He chuckled quietly, a very disturbing sound. “I can sense that you will be causing me much trouble, Jaina Solo. After all, for you to come to this time can only mean one thing.”
“And what would that be?”
“You are here to prevent Anakin from learning the powers of the Dark side, from becoming who he was meant to be. You are tangling yourself with his fate trying to prevent what destiny has chosen for him – and that could have dire consequences for the entire Galaxy.” There was a cold glint in Palpatine’s eyes that Jaina did not like.
“Anakin was never meant to fall to the Dark side,” Jaina growled.
Palpatine shrugged. “Ah, but to one such as I, it is not a fall. It is a chance to learn about the Force, to exploit your best abilities.”
“Like murdering billions of people and destroying entire planets?” Jaina spat, thinking of her mother’s homeworld.
“If those people were enemies –”
“They were innocent!” Jaina snarled through clenched teeth. “An entire planet destroyed – for nothing!”
Palpatine paused, leaning back in his chair and looking at her through half-closed eyes, a strangely peaceful and almost unreadable expression on his face. “You are young and have much to learn about the workings of the world, Jaina Solo,” he said calmly. “You are very much like your grandfather in that respect. I have already given Anakin much advice, but he has yet to learn the true ways of the Galaxy.”
“Let me see,” Jaina retorted, “those include wiping out the Jedi, creating a rule of terror and destroying planets for fun.” She folded her arms and stared unblinkingly at Palpatine.
He merely laughed at her. “My dear, some day that tongue of yours will be your downfall.”
The Consort by AnakinsFavorite
Summary: In this story, the OC Aria has been forced into a marriage with Lord Vader who has an odd vendetta against her. It was just revealed that her recently-deceased mother was Padmé- and Vader’s former lover- something which deeply hurts Aria and her father. Although she wants to stay on Naboo and uncover the many secrets she’s found, Aria is obligated to return to Vader… and is saying her final goodbyes to her father.
Suddenly, the old man burst into motion, and he moved to the edge of his seat to grasp her hands in not a gentle motion but one as if to keep her from moving. “Leave? Why would you leave?”
Something very dark began to gnaw at her stomach as the woman realized what was about to come- it was the very thing she was wanting but could not have. “I have to go back to Bast Castle- Vader told me that-”
“Aria, do you not understand?” Lord Jy’tari exclaimed, sudden passion filling his eyes, but it did not give comfort. “You’re free of him! You do not have to return if you don’t want to- if we hide you, he will never find you!” His eyes gleamed as he watched her carefully for a reaction. “We could stage a fake death or-”
“No, I can’t!” Aria moaned breathlessly, sorely tempted to take his offer. All she had to do was but say yes… “Vader has threatened me that, if I don’t return on time, he will-”
“He can’t harm you if he can’t find you!” Lord Jy’tari hissed, still clutching at her hands. His face was so close to hers that his spittle fell upon her cheek. “And don’t you worry about me, I-”
“Let go of me!” she cried out, trying to pry herself from his grasp. When doing so proved futile, the young woman instead looked at him with terror, tears filling her eyes. “He will kill Myah and Dak!”
“No, you listen to me- you are not going back!” Lord Jy’tari hissed. “I don’t care what measures I have to take- no daughter of mine is going to willingly license herself out to be a Sith Lord’s whore!”
At this, Lord Jy’tari loosened his grip just enough that she could burst away.
Her feet were carrying her to a place she knew not, and Aria only knew that she had to get away from him. At this point, she did not care what shame would be caused to her family- the young woman could only think of Myah’s sad face and Dak’s innocent youth.
Up a staircase she ran, but the darkness made her movement difficult and, more than once, she stumbled into some furniture.
Force, help me!
“Aria!” her father’s voice carried from where he bellowed.
Barely able to breathe, she ran into a drawing room that was right next to the landing and slammed the door shut. Wildly looking about, Aria saw that she could take refuge in any of the three corridors or rooms that the doors in there led to…
“I will not let you!” Lord Jy’tari screamed upon entering into the room. He was hobbling along, the pain in his legs and back making him considerably slower.
“No!” Aria screamed, flinging herself past him and out into the hallway. She was going to have to leave her home again.
The front door was only so close- if the young woman could but get to the stairs, go down them, and manage to go another twenty feet, she would be free.
Lord Jy’tari, on the other hand, seemed to have decided that his daughter would have been better dead than returning to Vader, and he began to yell the foulest things that made Aria start sobbing.
Clutching at her chest, she reached the stair and nearly lost her balance.
Her father had caught up with her.
In a swift movement, he grabbed her hair. A pained scream echoed throughout the place as Aria struggled against him. Servants rushed out from their hiding places to stare at the spectacle- father struggling against daughter. For being old, the man was quite strong, and he halfway managed to drag Aria back up to the top of the landing.
During this struggle, something went very wrong. Perhaps Aria moved to the wrong angle or Lord Jy’tari lost his balance, but the excruciating pain on her head suddenly ended as the tight grip was lost.
Gasping, Aria clutched at her scalp but started in the next moment as the sound of vicious thuds sounded against the stairs accompanied by pained yells.
With haunted eyes, the young woman befell her father’s crumpled body lying at the bottom of the landing, his neck snapped.
Lord Jy’tari was dead.
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SagaFanficAwards
Title: Fanfiction Awards Sock: The Saga
Registered:
Jun '06
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Date Posted:
6/24 1:05pm
Subject:
RE: 2008 Saga Fanfic Awards Excerpt Thread
- Date Edited:
6/26 2:27pm (8 edits total)
Edited By:
SagaFanficAwards
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Best Vignette
Freeze-Frame by dianethx
PAUSE
Everything stopped. The thousands of droids surrounding them, clone-ships descending, Jedi defending themselves in the arena - everything around them seemed to shimmer and then freeze into place.
Obi-Wan let out a sigh - an annoyed sigh. This had been happening too much lately and they were all getting tired of it. "Blast, they did it again." He turned to Padmé and said, "Did you see who got the remote and paused it?"
"No, it's too hazy. I can't see a thing." She shook her head. "Ani?"
Anakin looked around, frowning into the distance, "I think... I don't know. I hope it's the boy. Please let it be the boy. Fighting and crashing into things I can take but that romance stuff is...." He scraped at his face with one hand. "She keeps rewinding and watching us over and over again. It's annoying."
"Ani, we're in trouble. It's the girl."
"E chuta." Anakin shuddered and looked at Padmé, his eyes haunted. "She's going to rewind back to the fireplace scene again, isn't she?"
Obi-Wan groaned. "I hope not. I don't think I could take one more 'kiss and scar' rendition. It makes me nauseous."
"You're not the only one, Master." Anakin scrunched his face up as if he smelled something bad. "What's worse was the 'sand coarse and gets everywhere' poodoo. Who writes that kind of kriffing nonsense?"
Padmé shrugged. "It's not that bad, Ani."
Not for the first time, Anakin scowled at her. "It's Anakin, Padmé. An-A-Kin. Not Ani. Ani's a girl's name."
"But your mom calls you Ani."
"She also calls me pookie-pie." As Obi-Wan started to laugh, Anakin muttered, "Kenobi, don't even start."
There was a mischievous glint in Obi-Wan's eyes as he said, "At least, no one called you Oafy-Wan. I think pookie-pie suits you."
Anakin snapped back, "Listen, old man...."
"Stop it, both of you." Padmé pointed out into the haze. "We're in trouble. The old lady took the remote away from the girl and you know where this is going."
"Yeah, to 'Revenge' and that bedroom scene." Anakin gave Padmé a knowing smile but Obi-Wan just groaned again.
"If you had pulled in your stomach a little more as you moved from Padmé's bedroom onto the veranda, your pajamas would have fallen off and then where would you have been?"
"In an NC-17 movie?" Anakin said eagerly.
"At least I kept my clothes on," Obi-Wan grumbled.
"Yeah, well the old lady also watches the end of 'Phantom Menace' where you and Qui-Gon are taking off your robes and she does it in slow motion." Anakin reminded him. "Over and over again."
"She has good taste," Obi-Wan said softly.
Padmé laughed. "I enjoy that scene myself."
Anakin looked horrified. "You do? Qui-Gon's old enough to be your father."
"But he's not." She looked very content, smiling just a bit, as if thinking naughty thoughts.
"Padmé...."
Obi-Wan turned away, looking out into the distance, aghast. "Anakin, Padmé, I think you need to see this. The old lady has 'Empire' in her hand and you know where that is going."
"To Luke's scene where he finds out I'm his father? Where we have a long, cool lightsaber fight? What?"
Anakin could be so blind about things, especially if they weren't about saber fighting or Padmé. Sending him a hard, Masterly stare, Obi-Wan said, "Anakin, she always goes to the same scene. The one where Luke is on Dagobah in those tight pants and he starts to turn around and she's looking at his...."
"How could she?! Luke's in training to be a Jedi. She shouldn't be watching him like that. I'm going to delete that scene. Dirty old woman!"
"Calm down, Padawan. It's going to be all right."
"Listen Kenobi, you tell me one more time it's only a movie and we're going at it, Mustafar or no Mustafar."
"At least, it's not the old man." Padmé was frowning. "He keeps watching 'Return', running and rerunning that scene with Leia in her slave girl outfit, and making rude remarks."
"He what?!" Anakin seemed ready to explode. "That's it! Leia needs a cloak. And full body armor. And a mask!"
He lunged forward, looking as if he were going to run right through the haze and teach the old guy a lesson he'd not soon forget.
But Obi-Wan knew better; it was not going to work. Besides, the movie might restart any minute and Anakin had to be there, doing his part to help turn back the droids and save the day.
Grabbing onto him as Anakin raced past, Obi-Wan held on as best he could but it was difficult.
Anakin struggled to get away and he was shouting, too. "He's looking at my little girl and thinking evil thoughts. Let me at him!"
One Last Time by JediNemesis
Obi-Wan wondered, every time the cell door opened, if it would be a patrol come to escort him to the termination facility. He had come to the conclusion that the only safe escape plan would be to wait until he was actually at the facility, from where he would, having extricated himself, be in the right place to fabricate a record of his death.
It was a good plan, and hopefully it would both see the families of the Gelmak resistance fighters spared and fool Imperial Central for a little while. Only a little while, long enough for him to get back to Tatooine and sink back into obscurity.
He shouldn’t have accepted any mission from the Rebellion; it left Luke exposed. But Bail Organa could be remarkably intransigent where genocide was concerned, and he had patiently explained in a series of coded transmissions that Gelmak’s native population was being decimated by Imperial ‘peacekeeping’, that historically the planet had had a great respect for Jedi, that it was barely two parsecs from Tatooine, and that the Rebellion were stretched too thin elsewhere.
And so he had taken it, met the local intermediary, negotiated the terms on which the Rebellion would help the Gelmak and try to draw Imperial resources away from the system . . .
And, once again, it had gone wrong. It was almost like the old days.
At that thought, Obi-Wan smiled. It was still good remembering the old days, even if it did inevitably lead to the pain of remembering what had followed. But a mission gone unpredictably wrong, and a tricky escape to be engineered; it was just like the old days, except that he was alone, without Anakin’s competent but occasionally overenthusiastic assistance.
Obi-Wan was lost in nostalgic thoughts of gundark nests when the door did open, revealing the prison warden wearing his uniform jacket over a salmon-pink sleeping robe and looking as if his night could not, by any concatenation of interplanetary malices, get even the slightest bit worse.
And, behind the warden, someone who had to stoop to bring his shoulders through the doorway, and whose long dark cloak whispered across the dirty floor.
Obi-Wan sat up as the warden scurried from view and the door closed, his mind still, ridiculously, haunted by visions of gundarks. Once upon a time, once upon so many times, he had on the very edge of disaster reached out a hand and had it grasped by the same one that flexed restlessly under his visitor’s right-hand glove.
Very little other than that hand remained of Anakin Skywalker, and the memory of how it had happened wrung Obi-Wan’s heart. It had nearly killed him, those years before, to turn his back and walk away, leaving Anakin - Anakin whom he had loved - behind to burn.
Anakin. Obi-Wan had never stopped thinking of him as Anakin, not even after the reports of the atrocities committed by Darth Vader in the Emperor’s service had been proven. It was still Anakin, the person behind the monstrosities, and that was the agony of it.
Anakin folded his arms, the cloak rippling, and said without preamble “The Governor sent an order for your termination.”
“I’m hardly surprised.” Obi-Wan said quietly. “I am, after all, a dangerous criminal.”
“The order was rescinded after I interposed my veto.” Anakin said bluntly.
Obi-Wan sank back against the wall, trying to sense any vestige of human pity in the shielded mind, and after a long while asked wonderingly “Why?”
Gifts of the Heart by Valairy_Scot
It was Gifts of the Heart eve on Tatooine…
…and the one-year anniversary of Obi-Wan Kenobi’s knighting – one year since Qui-Gon Jinn’s death.
That night’s events had taken a piece of his heart away, and the Force had gifted him with something to replace that missing piece, a boy he had learned to love. Tonight he had given that boy a piece of his own heart back…
“Mom!”
“Ani!”
“I’m your gift, and you are mine.”
A tenderhearted boy looked at his mom and whispered, “What gift does my master get?”
…
What gift of the heart do you desire, Obi-Wan Kenobi?
A Jedi does not need gifts.
Jewels?
I have jewels within my eyes reach when I stand under the stars.
Peace?
Peace – ah, but peace cannot be gifted. Peace must be worked for, earned.
Power?
I have the Force, and its power I wield on its behalf. No more do I need.
What gift, then, would please you?
The one I have already. To know – someone once loved me.
**
“He’s all alone, Mom. We have to find him. We have to, please.”
“Ani, maybe he wants to be alone. Maybe he left you a message on your ship? He wouldn’t want you to worry, would he?”
“I’m not worried for him, Mom – Master’s perfectly safe, it’s just…,” Anakin’s lips quivered, “ – it’s just that I remembered – Master Qui-Gon died a year ago and Master Obi-Wan is all alone. I don’t want him to be alone; he should be here with us.”
“Is that what your heart is telling you? Search it, perhaps it will lead us to him.”
“Mom, you’re a genius! Yes!” He pumped his fists. “He’s not alone – he’s with Master Qui-Gon.”
“Ani!”
“Well,” he scrunched up his face and tried again. “He’s talking to Master Qui-Gon anyway. C’mon, he’s not that far.”
**
The soft sound of approaching footsteps brought Obi-Wan to his feet, shaking his head in total disbelief. Why had Anakin left his mother when he only had a few hours to visit with her – and then he realized Shmi was with his padawan.
“Well, Master, it seems I must turn my attention to the living. Before I leave, thank you. Thank you for your guidance, thank you for loving me, and thank you for gifting me with Anakin. And may the Force give me patience and wisdom to deal with this boy.”
“Master.” His padawan stopped and scowled at him, lip outthrust.
“Anakin, let me guess. You didn’t listen to the message I left on your comlink. Did you?” With a mournful shake of his head, Obi-Wan sighed. “Shmi Skywalker, I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi, your son’s keeper. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“Knight Kenobi, it is mine as well. Please call me Shmi.”
“Please call me Obi-Wan.” He smiled, then turned a frown on his apprentice. “And you, young one, explain yourself. You were supposed to spend this evening with your mother.”
“But, Master!”
Over Anakin’s head, mother and master exchanged knowing looks – and smiled in mutual understanding. With a wink at each other, both exclaimed in unison, “But, Anakin.”
“Mom! Master!”
“All right, Padawan. Explain away.” Obi-Wan laid a hand on Anakin’s shoulder as his mother did on his other side, and the three headed for town.
“I didn’t want you to be alone tonight,” Anakin confessed.
Sudden understanding filled Obi-Wan. He came to a stop, kneeled and put both hands on Anakin’s shoulders. “I wasn’t alone, not exactly. Thank you, though. That was very thoughtful of you, but I really wanted you to have this night with your mother. I don’t know if you will have a chance to see her again while you’re a padawan, and even one of your extraordinary talents will not be a knight for many years yet.”
“Mom, I told you he talks a lot,” Anakin complained, looking over his shoulder. “Master – I – uh – we’re supposed to give something of the heart, tonight. Right, Mom?” Shmi nodded.
Anakin looked back at his master. “I don’t have anything to give you.” He scuffled a foot in the sand, then looked up. “’Cept this.” He threw his arms around a surprised Obi-Wan’s neck and hugged him.
“That’s a most wonderful gift, Padawan,” Obi-Wan said softly, hugging Anakin back and basking in the affection he could feel in the Force. “Thank you.”
He hoisted Anakin under one arm and carried him under one arm, tugging the braid to giggles and protests as Shmi smiled beside them.
The Jedi looked to the sky and smiled. I know now what gift of the heart I desired. Someone once loved me; he shifted Anakin to ride on his hip and felt two arms wrap around him: now another one does.
Before She Died by VaderLVR64
Five years before she died…
“I’m so sorry,” Markus whispered as he brushed back her hair. She was still trembling from the force of her tears, and he glanced helplessly up at Darias.
The poor man merely shrugged, his own misery plain to see. “…got to fourteen weeks…” he said softly with the air of a man who is still trying to figure things out. “And then…”
“Then the bleeding and the pain - again,” Fianna whispered. “Oh gods, it hurts – knowing we’ll never -.” Markus could feel her shudder against him and felt utterly useless.
“Shhh,” Markus tried to soothe her. “It will be all right, you’ll see.”
Fianna sat up suddenly, angrily wiping away her tears. “But it won’t be all right, Mar,” she cried. “I’ve got to face facts,” she said. “It won’t be all right. It will never be all right!”
Markus looked into her eyes, wishing he could take her pain as his own – anything to spare her this anguish. He had always been able to fix her problems, but this… This was beyond his capabilities.
“I’m sorry, Fianna,” he said simply. “I’m so sorry that I can’t make this better for you.”
Darias sat down beside his wife and she leaned into him heavily. He held her close, his expression as tender as his touch. Markus knew that his sister’s husband would do his best to ease Fianna’s pain. Maybe he could do what Markus could not.
“I’ve got you, Fianna,” Darias said softly. “And while I would love to have a child, just having you is enough for me.” He tilted up her chin and kissed her. Markus moved his hoverchair backward, reluctant to intrude on this private moment.
“You will always be enough for me,” Darias said to her as Markus closed the door.
~~~~~
Seven months before she died….
“You’re sure?” Markus asked in disbelief.
Fianna nodded emphatically, her emotions making her speechless – for once. At last, she settled for throwing her arms around his neck and practically squealing with happiness. Darias was shifting from foot to foot, his pride and happiness quite evident in the wide grin he wore.
“We’re having a baby!” Fianna screamed again in his Markus’ ear.
He embraced her closely and had to blink away his own tears. “And just when you had given up hope,” he teased tenderly.
Fianna stood up straight and grinned. “You know me; I never know when to call it quits.”
“That’s true,” Markus agreed.
Darias came to stand by his wife and took her hand. “If it’s a boy, we’d like to name him after you,” he said almost shyly.
“You want to name him Markus?” He was shocked, pleased beyond measure, but shocked.
Fianna laughed and shook her head. “No, we want to name him Marmar!”
“Oh gods,” Markus groaned. “You’d have to bring that up now!”
“Marmar?” Darias asked.
“It’s what she called me when she was little,” Markus explained with some embarrassment. “And I never want to hear that name again!”
Fianna grinned at him and Markus knew that she would address him as Marmar for months to come. That was just like Fianna, he mused. She would never let him live it down. He could picture her teaching his niece or nephew to call him Uncle Marmar.
He wondered if it would be so bad.
~~~~~~~
On the day she died ….
Markus had gone to visit Fianna, whose belly was heavy and rounded with the child that was due to arrive any moment. Darias had left her reluctantly this morning to go to work; only Markus’ solemn promise to stay at her side had induced him to leave the house.
“You look great,” he said as he watched her work in her garden. She had always had an affinity for living things, while he could kill a plant in record time. Fianna had been the only living thing he had ever successfully nurtured.
Awkwardly, she got to her feet and rested one hand on the small of her back, the other on the mound of her belly. “Yeah, I’m a real looker,” she mocked. “I bet I could win a Hutt beauty contest.”
“You’re lovely,” he assured her.
She sat down on the bench with a sigh. “I’m ready for this baby to be born,” she admitted. “I want to meet him or her, and finally put a face to all those kicks that have kept me awake for so many months.”
“It won’t be long now...” He stared up at the sky, too startled to be frightened. “What the-?”
A terrible light flashed over the perfect Alderaan sky.
-----signature-----
Official Sock for the 2008 FFA--Saga Edition
Have questions about the awards? PM us!
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SagaFanficAwards
Title: Fanfiction Awards Sock: The Saga
Registered:
Jun '06
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Date Posted:
6/24 1:05pm
Subject:
RE: 2008 Saga Fanfic Awards Excerpt Thread
- Date Edited:
7/2 11:45am (11 edits total)
Edited By:
SagaFanficAwards
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Best Series
Kelia's Drabble Thread by Kelia
Smooth
Anakin held up the miniature Jedi robe, his eyes filled with astonishment.
“You mean it’s really mine?” he breathed cautiously.
“Of course,” Obi-Wan confirmed with a soft chuckle. “Every padawan needs their own robe and this one was custom made just for you.”
“Wizard.” Anakin ran his fingers over the smooth, tawny fabric in wonderment. He never dreamed he would ever own such a fine garment.
Obi-Wan’s smile broadened as he watched Anakin slide his arms into the sleeves, taking painstaking care to arrange the robe over his tiny frame.
“I’m a real Jedi now,” he whispered proudly.
Politician
“Daddy, who’s the best politician ever?”
Anakin looked up at his daughter in surprise, biting back his usual flippant answer.
“Why?
“We’re starting to study galactic politics,” Leia explained. “I have to write about the best politician and Master Erith says you know everybody in the Senate.”
“She won’t let me use mom,” Leia added, her shoulders slumping.
“Then you can’t complete the assignment.”
“Really?” Leia’s brown eyes lit up with excitement.
“Unfortunately no,” Anakin laughed, tweaking her chin.
“Dad!”
“I’ll help you pick someone else,” he offered, “Over a choclime twist at Dex’s.”
“Thanks daddy,” Leia beamed, hugging him.
Friend
“Happy life day Obi-Wan!” Obi-Wan jumped with surprise as the lights to his quarters fl | |