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Topic:
2008 Before the Saga Awards Excerpt Thread
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Before_Awards_Sock
Registered:
Nov '04
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Date Posted:
7/5 12:56pm
Subject:
2008 Before the Saga Awards Excerpt Thread
- Date Edited:
8/1 10:08am (5 edits total)
Edited By:
JadeSolo
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Welcome to the 2008 Before the Saga Awards Excerpt Thread !
Here you will find snippets of each qualifying entry for all award categories. Read them and decide which you feel is the best for that category.
As a reminder, these are all who qualified for the voting round:
Best Alternate Universe
Scion of the Warrior House by VaderLVR64
The Truth Shall Set You Free by jedidas3
Not Myself by Bek
Into Another Day by Jinngerbread
Headstrong by Itachi-Uchiha
Best Canon
Glory Days by azizah
Road to Mandalore by Dar_manda
Patience by Glenstorm
All the Correct Things by ardavenport
Best Action
Threads of the Past by Magier
Attraction by Dianethx
Fast Forward by ardavenport
The Wise by 1Yodimus_Prime
Best Drama
Headstrong by Itachi-Uchiha
The Truth Shall Set You Free by jedidas3
Remembrance by jedidas3
The Wise by 1Yodimus_Prime
A Long Time Ago but Not So Far Away by Bastet
Best Romance
Heart in a Cage by Meredith_Kenobi
Spindrift by JediNemesis
Does Kissing Count? by Alley_Skywalker
To You by ardavenport
Best Humor
Epistles to a Master by Princess_Arulmozhi
Attraction by Dianethx
Little One by Lilith Demodae
Best All Around
The Best of Intentions by jedidas3
Attraction by Dianethx
Not Myself by bek
Style
Most Underrated
Preservation by Jedi_Perigrine
Kinetics by Rogue1-and-a-half
Heart in a Cage by Meredith_Kenobi
"The One Below" Emerges by Alasse_Earfalas
The White Twi'lek by Katana Geldar
Serpent Spawn by AzureAngel2
Distortion by Neon Star
Best Response To A Challenge
At the Foot of the Bed by VaderLVR64 for the Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan holiday challenge
Birthright by UnderCoverJedi
It Always Rains on Dxun by Commander-DWH
Into Another Day by Jinngerbread (Layren)
Best Songfic
For Good by Jedi-Gon
You'll Be In My Heart by Glenstorm
It Always Rains on Dxun by Commander_DWH
Best Poem
Observation by mslanna
Vercopa by MsLanna
Best Crossover
Gate Crashin’ by Jinngerbread and Lithiniel
"Holy Force, Batman!" by p_stotts
Best Vignette
Völuspá by JediNemesis
112 by VaderLVR64
What Dreams Know by LuvEwan
An Island of Stone by VaderLVR64
Best Short Story
Into Another Day by Jinngerbread
Laundry Day by ardavenport
The Sian Ny Chronicles by VaderLVR64
Best Epic
Headstrong by Itachi-Uchiha
The Truth Shall Set You Free by jedidas3
Not Myself by bek
Best Series
The Best of Intentions and The Truth shall set you free by jedidas3
Fragments of Illusion by dianethx
Jinngerbread Cookiees by Jinngerbread
Character
Best Canon Interpretation, Male
Dooku in Glory Days by azizah
Obi-Wan in Attraction by dianethx
Qui-Gon Jinn in Into Another Day by Jinngerbread
Best Canon Interpretation, Female
Padme in Purple Palate Politicians by Persphone_Kore
Shmi in A New Beginning by Kelia
Shmi Skywalker in Not Hers to Keep by VaderLVR64
Best Original Character, Male
Flamini in Spindrift by JediNemesis
Kale Kenobi in Not Myself by Bek
Trin The Sian Chronicles by VaderLVR64
Best Original Character, Female
Healer Milcah in Headstrong by Itachi-Uchiha
Aelinor in Captive to Crown by Tych_sel
Anais in A Win-Win Situation by Jinngerbread aka Layren
Skye Darre The Blue Side of the Force: Luminosity by Commander-DWH
Best Child
Quinlan Vos in Headstrong by Itachi-Uchiha
Padme in Purple Palate Politicians by Persphone_Kore
Trin in The Sian Ny Chronicles by VaderLVR64
color=teal]Best Non-Human[/color]
Auurrr-uuh in The Sky-Fallen by ardavenport
Yoda in 112 by VaderLVR64
Yaddle in "The One Below" Emerges by Alasse_Earfalas
Best Villain
Dooku in Headstrong by Itachi-Uchiha
Erelia Zadros in Attraction by dianethx
Warden Dernal in Remembrance by jedidas3
Best Ensemble Cast
Threads of the Past by Magier
Attraction by Dianethx
Not Myself by Bek
Author
Best New Author
Jedi_Perigrine
silverfighter
LordNyax113
Jedi-Gon
Best Author
JediNemesis
jedidas3
Glenstorm
Best Collaborative
Mending a Broken Heart by Kelia-Lily
Gate Crashin' by Jinngerbread and Lithiniel
VOTING PROCESS:
1) Select which of the fics from the qualifying list you would like to vote for. Using a template is not necessary, simply list the category and the entry you wish to vote for.
2) Send in your votes in ONE PM to the Award Sock. Votes sent elsewhere will not be counted.
3) You will NOT receive a confirmation PM regarding your votes. If you do not receive a PM from the awards sock within 24 hours of your PM being read, then you did everything correctly.
VOTING RULES:
1. You must register prior to voting, so that we ensure that you are not a sock. Registration will be open through the voting period.
2. No voting with a sock. Voting with a sock WILL result in a short-term ban and none of your votes will be allowed.
3. You may vote only once in each era, in one PM as stated earlier. If you send your votes in multiple PMs, they will not be counted. The only exceptions might be on a case-by-case basis, per information given to you by THIS SOCK only.
4. Voting is open from July 20 at 12:01 AM board time until July 29, 11:59 PM board time. Late votes will not be counted at all--no exceptions. Early votes will be returned and you will be expected to send your vote in again under the correct timeline. No exceptions. See rule #7 if you will not be available during the voting period.
5. PM the Before_Awards_Sock with your vote. Votes sent elsewhere will not be counted.
6. Only fics on the Qualifying List are eligible for votes. Votes for other fics will not be counted.
7. If you will not be available or internet-accessible during the voting time period, arrange with the host, Lola64, for absentee voting. This must be arranged ahead of time, before the nomination period ends. Those needing an absentee ballot will follow all of the voting rules.
8. You cannot vote for yourself. Votes for yourself will not be counted.
-----signature-----
Before Awards Schedule:
Nominations: June 22- July 2
Excerpt submission period: July 6- July 16
Voting Period: July 20-July 29
Ceremony: August 2
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Before_Awards_Sock
Registered:
Nov '04
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Date Posted:
7/5 12:57pm
Subject:
RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread
- Date Edited:
7/15 8:04pm (8 edits total)
Edited By:
Before_Awards_Sock
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Best Alternate Universe
Headstrong by Itachi-Uchiha
Smoke from their burning ship hung in the air, the cloying gray tendrils seeping into his lungs and making it difficult to breathe. Squinting his eyes against the grit laden air that surrounded them, he cautiously peered over the pile of twisted metal that had once been their twin seat starship. It was unrecognizable now and served as a temporary hiding place until he could figure out what their next move would be.
Exhausted physically with his body screaming for water, Jedi Padawan Quinlan Vos ducked back behind the safety barrier before kneeling down beside the figure sprawled out on the ground. Golden eyes took a careful inventory of the unconscious man, the young padawan’s honey brown fingers tentatively lifting the bit of cloth that covered a wicked wound. A grimace twisted his handsome features, the yellow tattooing across his nose glowing in the predawn light as he noted the angry red skin around the ragged hole. His efforts to clean the wound and keep it that way had failed and infection was setting in.
A low guttural moan broke from his companion’s lips, the first sound issued in over an hour's time. Pressing his palm against the man’s cheek, Quinlan was flooded with concern as he felt the chapped hotness of the pale skin beneath his hand. Trembling fingers brushed a long lock of ebony hair away from the sleeping man’s eyes before he twisted around to grab the travel bag laying behind him. There wasn’t much water left in his canteen but he knew he needed to keep the fever down until help could arrive.
"Padawan?"
The whispered word had him spinning around. Bending down he found his mentor fighting to lift weighted eyelashes, the gleam of deep blue eyes glowing with an abnormal brightness in the gloomy light. The hand he slid beneath the Jedi Master’s neck was wrapped to the forearms with his trademark black material, as he gently propped the man’s head up and held the canteen against chapped lips.
"Drink, Master," he urged, a sigh of frustration following soon after when the precious liquid dribbled out of the corner of his master’s lips.
Setting his mentor’s head back down on the ground, Quinlan screwed the cap back on the bottle. "You have a fever, Master."
Trembling fingers weakly lifted to wrap in the front of Quinlan’s tunic before pulling him down. He had to strain to hear the words that spilled from the Jedi Master’s lips in a disjointed ramble.
"Danger. You must go. Leave. Find help. Head north to the warlords. Only hope."
Quinlan pulled back at the order, resistance immediately burning in his eyes. There was no way he was going to leave his wounded master behind and go off to find some outlaws that may or may not help them. Entwining his fingers with those that still clung to the front of his tunic, Quinlan pressed their now combined hands close to his racing heart.
"I won’t leave you, Master. My fate shall be the same as yours."
A derisive snort was his mentor’s reply as the injured man stared up at the sky overhead. "Impudent whelp. Wait until I get you back home."
"I’m merely following your training," Quinlan protested, his teeth gleaming brightly in the pre-dawn light. "Disobedience and arrogance. I learned from the best."
"That you have." The expression of regret that briefly flooded his mentor’s pale, handsome features had Quinlan wondering what thoughts were going on inside the Jedi Master’s head.
Into Another Day by Jinngerbread
A/N: In this AU, Qui-Gon is a fresh-faced knight, 22 years old. He is looking to pick his first apprentice.
Entry Twenty-One
I did not realize it had been so long since I last wrote.
In my defense, the last two years have been quite busy, with missions seemingly back to back and I moved due to ah…well. I moved. Let's just leave it at that. I misplaced the journal in the move, and did not get back to it, as I have not been back to the Temple in some time.
Right now I am on leave for a few more days, before I am assigned another mission. I think I will transpose these entries into my datapad, to make it easier to access.
Perhaps if I use the datapad instead of the old fashioned method, I will be able to get back into the habit of writing daily again.
While I'm home, I've been visiting a lot in the crèche.
You remember Obi-Wan Kenobi who was in my first lightsaber class?
He's one of the ones I'm considering as my first apprentice.
I am looking at others though, also. He is such a promising student; perhaps someone with more experience would be a better match for him.
It's hard to say.
I’m also looking at an initiate by the name of Siri Tachi.
She's such a bright and spirited young woman, and two years younger than Obi-Wan. It makes her a bit young, yes, but I definitely think there is a good deal of potential there, but again there is the same issue that a Master with more experience might benefit her as well.
I'm doing my best to take things slowly and let the Force draw me to the initiates, much as I do with everything else in life.
Listening to the Force is the best way to decide.
Though, now I'm feeling more confused with the options presented to me. In time, hopefully things will grow clearer.
Perhaps I am not to choose just yet and I'm to wait a few more years.
Only time and the Force will tell.
Not Myself by bek
A/N: Obi-Wan was not raised by the Jedi. He spent the first ten years of his life with his mother and father until an accident changed that. He has spent the last seven years in the care of his aunt and uncle, living a life that has become anything but what he would have wanted.
His gaze was unfocused in remembrance of his childhood, the better years of his life. He missed his parents, and yet a part of him was angry with them for leaving him alone to the life he now lived. He was no longer the innocent wide-eyed child they had adored; he was now a young man who bore the blood of innocents on his hands and the façade of an exterior hardened by circumstance. He had tried over the years to build a wall around his heart, around his emotions, but failed. He was a person who wore his compassion on his sleeve for all to see, a weakness his uncle had called it. He shook his head to rid himself of his thoughts. A soft voice to his right brought him back to the present.
"You're thinking of them again."
He nodded his agreement but otherwise didn't answer.
"You're thinking, 'how could they leave you in this situation'. Am I right?"
He didn't answer right away but then nodded again. Turning his head toward her, he asked, "Why do you let them do it?"
A soft sigh escaped her lips; they had been over this too many times. "You know why. The last time I refused he beat me within an inch of my life. If it hadn't been for you, I may have died that night."
His jaw tightened and then relaxed enough to ask, "How can a man who calls you his wife lend you to his partner?"
She looked down at her hands and then back to him. "He wasn't always the man he is now. Even now, he isn’t always the man he pretends to be."
"If you had died that night, at least you would have been at peace."
She shook her head. "No. Did I think about it? Yes, but then I thought of you, Obi-Wan. I have raised and loved you since you were ten years old, and before that I spoiled you every chance my sister and Kale allowed. You are all I have left of my family. I couldn't leave you to suffer this life alone. I will not allow you to become like them; I will be here to remind you every day that you are better than that. As long as you hurt for the lives and injustices that are lost within their wake, you are alive. If you were to ever become numb, to stop caring, this galaxy would be in a danger it's never known. You made me a promise once, and I intend to make sure you keep it."
"I’ve done too much to keep that promise."
She moved closer to him, turning so she was facing him. "You do what you are told to spare yourself from the torture they have inflicted upon you so many times before." When he lowered his head in chagrin, she placed her hand under his chin lifting his head to better meet his gaze, "You survived when others would not have. Your father told me once that 'there is no disgrace in doing what it takes to survive'. They force you to use your gifts for their gain, never your own."
He jerked away from her and stood, his posture agitated. No matter how many times they had this discussion, the words always meaning the same but somehow phrased differently, he couldn't help but feel like there was something he was missing. "I steal so we can eat, so we can have clothes to wear and a shelter over our head. I help them maim and ravage other's possessions taking whatever it is they desire in order to elevate their own position in life. I helped them…I helped to take…." he turned to look at her not being able to complete his thought. "How can you sit there and try to rationalize it?"
"I'm not justifying what we've all done in one form or another. But neither will I allow you to ever believe that any of this is your doing of your own free will. If you had a choice, I know you would be the upstanding man that your father raised you to be."
"The man that you've tried to complete," he said softly, looking out over the town below.
"Yes, and I can see that man waiting for the right time to emerge. He's in there, Obi-Wan. He'll know when it's time to come out."
TBD
-----signature-----
Before Awards Schedule:
Nominations: June 22- July 2
Excerpt submission period: July 6- July 16
Voting Period: July 20-July 29
Ceremony: August 2
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Before_Awards_Sock
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Date Posted:
7/5 12:58pm
Subject:
RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread
- Date Edited:
7/15 8:05pm (1 edits total)
Edited By:
Before_Awards_Sock
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Best Alternate Universe continued
The Truth Shall Set You Free by jedidas3
The Jedi master spoke once more, “Padawan, can you tell me what happened here? What happened to your master?”
“He’s dead,” came the raspy reply from the cowering figure.
“I know that young one. Can you tell me what happened?”
“I killed him,” the padawan whispered. “I killed Master Elad.” Exhaustion began to claim the apprentice as he leaned his head against the wall. “I’m just so tired…I just wanted it to stop.”
A nervous energy filled the room as other Jedi who had gathered began to react to the padawan’s words. Rumors and ideas that this apprentice must be full of the dark side flowed from one side of the room to the other. Ignoring the low roar of voices behind him, the Jedi master continued to press for information. He truly believed that things were not always as they seemed to be. “What is your name, young one?”
The padawan choked back a sob. “Obi-Wan…Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
The Jedi master knew of the young apprentice and of his slain master. Master Elad was well known for his aloof manner and his strict authoritarian approach. He had only trained one other padawan and that student had left the order before he could complete his trials. Whenever he had seen Padawan Kenobi with Master Elad, the tension between them had been evident. Obi-Wan had given the appearance of being the perfect padawan but there was obviously something amiss between the pair. The Jedi knew that nothing could be done for Master Elad, but the apprentice needed help. “My name is Qui-Gon Jinn. Let’s you up off the floor…you can’t be very comfortable.” Qui-Gon extended his hand and waited for Obi-Wan to accept his offer.
The apprentice simply shook his head and closed his eyes. “Please, just leave me alone. I just want to be left alone.”
“Alone you can not be.” The sea of onlookers parted as Yoda made his way into the room. He surveyed the carnage and the devastation that hung in the air like a thick fog. He slowly walked over to Obi-Wan and stood before him. “Help you need. To the healers you must go. Work this out, we will.”
Obi-Wan slowly stood using the wall for support. His eyes met those of Qui-Gon as he leaned heavily on the Jedi master. For the first time, Qui-Gon was able to catch a true glimpse of the padawan’s appearance. Blood stains adorned the front of the robe as well as the sleeves. His hair was disheveled and bruises arrayed his face. The padawan felt as if he weighed next to nothing as he leaned on the tall Jedi. The healers met the pair and relieved Qui-Gon of his burden. Silently, they took the broken padawan from the master and headed towards the healer’s wing.
Qui-Gon’s gaze turned back towards the crowd that still remained in the room. He diverted his attention to Master Elad lying on the floor as the speculations continued to pass between the other Jedi. Something caught his attention as he made his way through the crowd. He knelt down beside the fallen master and took his hand. The remnant of a padawan braid was clenched in Master Elad’s hand. Qui-Gon silently admonished himself for not noticing that the apprentice was missing his braid.
“Answers you seek, but they are not here. Lie with the padawan they do.” Master Yoda stood beside his former student as he silently indicated for the crowd to disperse. He knew that an investigation would be warranted and that those Jedi in charge of the inquiry would need to study the scene.
“He confessed to killing his own master. Do you think he did it?”
“There was no deception in his words. Speak the truth, he did. Help he will need. Help him you will.”
Qui-Gon began to protest. He couldn’t deny that the boy needed help. However, the Jedi master did not believe that he was the one to help the young padawan. Yoda tapped his walking stick on the ground to emphasize his point. “Argue with me you will not! The only hope that boy has, you may be.”
“Master, I…”
“The will of the Force it is. More than meets the eye there is. Get to the truth you must or forever lost the boy will be.” Yoda turned and left Qui-Gon standing there alone, grasping the braid in his large calloused hand.
Qui-Gon Jinn looked down at the body of Master Elad. “More than meets the eye, huh? Well, I guess I better get started.” He quickly left and headed towards the healer’s wing knowing that he needed to talk with Padawan Kenobi and discover what would drive a padawan to brutally slay his master.
Scion of the Warrior House by VaderLVR64
“The slave Shmi Skywalker has given birth to a healthy boy,” the majordomo said. “She has died in the effort however.” He could not quite conceal his satisfaction.
“Very well then,” she replied. “Record the birth and mark him, Fengris.”
“Today milady?” he asked.
“Today,” she answered implacably.
“It will be done, milady,” he said. He was to the door when her voice stopped him.
“The boy, Fengris?” He turned and waited patiently. “Has he the potential of which the Seer spoke?”
Fengris paused and considered the matter. Even now, the brat was screaming out its protests in the crèche. “There is possibly some potential…” he answered carefully. “It is much too early to tell.”
“You think me foolish to listen to an old woman’s words, do you not?” Her voice was mild, but he saw the flash of anger in her eyes.
“It is not my place to understand,” he replied.
“You fear this child?” she asked, quirking one brow.
“He is an unknown quantity,” Fengris said softly.
“But if he is what the old woman said,” Lady Ratha murmured. “Think of how valuable he will be!”
“If,” Fengris observed.
“Time will tell us what we need to know. Keep me apprised of his progress, Fengris,” she said quietly, but even in those soft tones, he could hear the subtle sound of a blade being unsheathed. “The Seer spoke of the child…and now he is here.” A cold smile stretched her lovely mouth. “He must be guarded until we know if he is a treasure or an enemy to this House.”
“It will be done, milady.”
Walking back toward the slaves’ quarters, he pondered the events of the day. The loss of the slave woman was nothing more than an administrative matter. He would have to find a wet-nurse for the baby; the Lady Ratha was not going to risk the potentially valuable infant. The dead woman would be quietly and quickly cremated and the baby would remain in the care of the crèche, where all the slaves’ children started their lives. Many ended it there too, he admitted, for the life of a slave was difficult.
He smiled now to remember how the dying woman had glared at him, her hatred alive and well even if her flesh was failing. For a moment, he experienced a moment of unease as he considered that he had violated the Lady Ratha’s trust in him. She had been most specific in her instructions. It was not his betrayal of his mistress that plagued him, but the possibility of discovery.
The slave’s death eased some of that worry. If she had not had the good manners to die in bringing forth her misbegotten whelp he might have taken care of that little detail himself. As it was, she had saved him the trouble. He felt a moment of fondness for her, obliging him that way.
The child lived, and that was best – for the moment.
He did not share Lady Ratha’s hope that this child would be the one foretold by the Seer, but stranger things had happened. And even if he was the one, Fengris could foresee that such a child could be dangerous to the House of Suuntra. Time would reveal what, if any, special destiny that slave child would have. His only job was to keep it alive and that he could do. He must keep the child alive, if only to escape Lady Ratha’s fury.
The crèche was quiet, even the newborn had finally fallen into a fitful sleep. When Fengris leaned over the small cradle, however, the baby opened his eyes. Something ancient gleamed in those blue eyes, something that made the majordomo uneasy.
Reaching out, he let the baby grasp his finger as babies are wont to do. The child touched his finger only briefly and then let out a cry that shook his small body. The crèche nurse peeked in and then withdrew when she saw Fengris.
“You know, don’t you, little one?” Fengris said softly. “Maybe you are the one the Seer glimpsed in the mists.”
The baby still howled his outrage.
“You are even more helpless than your mother, little Anakin Skywalker,” Fengris hissed. “You will not live unless I say it shall be so.”
Abruptly, the baby’s cries stopped and their eyes met. Fengris found that he was the one now trembling.
Stricken to silence by the babe’s unnatural manner, Fengris withdrew from the cradle and rushed out of the crèche. He pushed the thought of the dead slave’s son out of his mind. He needed some form of diversion. There was a new slave, one that looked innocent enough.
He smiled coldly to himself as he thought of her. That won’t last long, he said to himself with grim satisfaction.
-----signature-----
Before Awards Schedule:
Nominations: June 22- July 2
Excerpt submission period: July 6- July 16
Voting Period: July 20-July 29
Ceremony: August 2
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Before_Awards_Sock
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Date Posted:
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Subject:
RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread
- Date Edited:
7/16 4:45am (5 edits total)
Edited By:
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Best Canon
All the Correct Things by ardavenport
In the fresher, Qui-Gon filled a large drinking cylinder; he sniffed the contents. It was fresh, clear and cool, purified, but still with a trace of the hillside springs from outside. He took it back along with a stack of thick, absorbent cloths, pale and unblemished, like the room and the furnishings inside the cottage. He put them on a stand next to the sleep bench and sat next to Obi-Wan who had slid off his own robe and travel pack and taken his med-kit off his belt. It lay opened next to him.
Qui-Gon dampened a cloth and began wiping off the grit and mud from Obi-Wan's face, revealing the scratches underneath.
The shadows of people darkened the window and something thumped against the closed door. Muffled voices, loud enough to penetrate into their refuge, drew Obi-Wan's startled attention.
"That does not concern us, Padawan," he instructed sternly, taking Obi-Wan's chin in his hand and turning it toward him. Obi-Wan's eyes were wide with disagreement, but he said nothing.
Qui-Gon continued cleaning, first the left cheek, then the right. Streaks of red stained the cloth along with the grime, but not much. Qui-Gon's eyes critically evaluated the bruises and scrapes while Obi-Wan watched his Master with increasing intensity behind his blue-gray stare. But he did not squirm or fidget while he submitted to the examination.
Flipping the cloth over, Qui-Gon dipped the unblemished side into the water cylinder and continued wiping Obi-Wan's face, uncovering bruises on his cheek and forehead, and a long shallow scrape slashed across his nose. He dabbed the mud off from the ginger hairline and a round, shiny black bug crawled out onto the pale skin. Qui-Gon caught it on the end of his little finger and scrutinized it critically. Little legs and antennae twitched and wiggled, but it was clearly not parasitic. He flicked it away and continued to wipe away dirt along with tiny brown and black bits of dried muddy plants, but nothing else crawled out of Obi-Wan's hair.
Picking up and dampening a new cloth, Qui-Gon cleaned his apprentice's neck and the collar of the tunic before laying the cloth aside. He gently placed his hand on Obi-Wan's right arm.
"Let me see," he said quietly and Obi-Wan nodded. Qui-Gon gently drew the injured arm away from where Obi-Wan had clutched it to his body and folded his hand around the point of injury. He had not sensed any broken bones or torn tendons and there were none. But it was badly bruised, warm with pain.
"You can lessen the impact of this on your own, Obi-Wan," he said and Obi-Wan nodded, closing his eyes. He felt the Force from his Padawan, a little fitfully at first, gather about the wound, cooling the swelling. Qui-Gon watched carefully before reaching up and touching the bruise on Obi-Wan's forehead. They remained still, Obi-Wan's wounded arm relaxed, still cradled in his Master's hand. A faint mirror sensation of Obi-Wan's bruises prickled the same places on Qui-Gon's body and forehead through the Force. But there was no more serious injury underneath them.
There was more thumping on the door and more muted shouting penetrated the interior of the cottage. Neither Jedi reacted or moved. The noise and shadows over the windows receded.
Qui-Gon opened his eyes and looked down at his apprentice. He picked up an antiseptic stylet from the open medkit, clicked it on and began passing the tip over the facial scrapes, his hand under Obi-Wan's chin.
"You are concerned about what happened," he stated.
Obi-Wan's eyes opened slowly. Qui-Gon read the personal disappointment in his expression, a sense of failure.
"I'm sorry I fell, Master."
"I am sure you are," he agreed, again laying his hand on Obi-Wan's injured arm. While the Force could speed up healing, it was hardly better than a medical droid and bacta. The arm would be tender and sore until they returned to their ship and took advantage of its facilities. "But there is no need to apologize to me, Obi-Wan. You did nothing wrong."
Obi-Wan stared back with a shocked expression as if Qui-Gon had announced that he would be knighted as soon as they returned to Coruscant.
"But I did not realize where the danger was, Master. I though it was safe, but instead I fell through the bramble bridge."
He smiled. "The only reason why I did not step where you did is because you were ahead of me." Qui-Gon began skimming the end of the stylet over the scrape on Obi-Wan's nose. "And which would you say was the greater danger? The rotted bramble bridge? Or the blaster cannon that fired immediately after you fell through?"
Obi-Wan's shock renewed. "It was a cannon?"
Patience by Glenstorm
Down there, my friend, Qui-Gon pushed the notion into his strange mount’s mind.
With a confused squawk the Draigon obeyed, winging down smoothly towards the inland caves.
It was then that his plan backfired spectacularly.
A shadow fell across the earth. Qui-Gon heart plummeted like a rock as he looked up and saw to his horror that a whole flock of the flying beasts were now winging after him, alerted by his mount’s cry and determined to rid it of its passenger.
There were hundreds of them. And more were gathering-- a hungry black cloud heading straight for where the rest of the refugees were hidden.
Oh, dear Force. What had he done.
He had to warn them down there, they had to prepare for… this.
For a second he was at a loss.
The only way was to alert Obi-Wan through their fledgling bond, if that was what it was. The boy had been able to reach him every time he had had a need but Qui-Gon had never tried to do the same, too stubborn and afraid of the pain it would cause him if he did.
But the choice had now been taken from him. Shutting out the memory of Xanatos that inevitably rose with the action, Qui-Gon reached for the strange connection he had now with Obi-Wan.
It came to him with an ease that surprised and Qui-Gon felt the awareness of the boy’s mind mingle suddenly with his.
It was a bond, alright
Weak, but there. Detailed communication was beyond the neglected link, so Qui-Gon did his best to push along the sense of coming danger and the need to warn every soul hiding within the doomed caves.
No response and for a moment Qui-Gon despaired. The flock of Draigons was closing and Obi-Wan had not heard him. Had his fear and stubborn heart condemned everyone on this planet to death?
He would never forgive himself if it had.
But just as his hope dwindled to its blackest moment, there came a flash of blue, cutting through the mire of his despair. Obi-Wan came racing from the caves, lightsaber held high, ready to face whatever threat had been forewarned.
Qui-Gon watched as the boy’s step faltered, the blue blade sagging slightly as its owner caught sight of the nightmare that was winging his way. But only for a moment. In the next second the lightsaber straightened. Obi-Wan prepared to battle the insurmountable odds.
Like a Jedi, Qui-Gon’s mind whispered, but he had no time to mull over the statement, for the ground was rushing up at him. His ride had reached its end.
Wasting no time Qui-Gon released his hold on the Draigon’s mind and gathered himself, leaping into the air even as the beast twisted and snapped at his heels.
Bloodied and battered, Qui-Gon fell, hit the floor and ran.
He did not stop or look back until he reached Obi-Wan by the cave entrance.
The boy’s shifting eyes took him all in at a glance including the pouch still hanging securely from Qui-Gon’s belt. One trouble, at least, lifted from his young brow
“Go, Master,” he said as Qui-Gon drew level and slowed. “Go to them. They need you.”
Qui-Gon’s gaze flickered towards the gathering cloud. Obi-Wan caught it and urged him on. “I’ll hold them, Master Jinn,” he said, gripping his lightsaber firmly. “Go now.”
The look of quiet resolution on the boy’s face caught Qui-Gon’s returning protest in his throat. In those blue-green depths he could see only calm acceptance and a peace with what would most certainly result in the his defeat. Obi-Wan had deemed the lives in the caves were more important than his own and he was willing to lay it down for them all.
Jedi, Qui-Gon’s mind whispered again as he stepped forward. This boy was turning out to be more than he ever expected.
Almost he stayed. Almost ignited his lightsaber and turned to face death at the boy’s side. But Obi-Wan was right. He was right. Others were relying on them.
Qui-Gon paused just long enough to squeeze the boy’s rigid shoulder before racing on into the caves, shutting out as he went the sound of a thousand terrible wings circling above and the hum of a single lightsaber standing alone…
Road to Mandalore by Dar-manda
Authors note: I couldn’t find anything about Canderous’ ascension to Mandalore, so I wrote it.
He sat next to her as she awoke. He was holding one of her grenades. She sat up stiffly.
“Lightsaber,” he said, activating the blade, it was red. “There are only a few people I have ever heard of that use red lightsabers, and if you tell me you killed a Sith and stole it, I'm not going to believe you.” He said levelly, as the blade retracted.
“Even if I were telling the truth?” She said, he shook his head. “And I know I can't make you believe me.” She made to stand up and he drew his knife. “Ok so it's like that.” She sat back down, tucking her legs up under her. “What do you want from me?”
“The truth.”
“That one I killed a Sith and took.”
He growled.
“Honestly,” she held up her hands. “He got in my way when I was trying to leave. I was in a bit of a rush at the time and I didn't have much else on me, mainly just the clothes I stood up in. He decided that he would make me stop and fight the incoming threat. I didn't want to, so I left.” She looked into his face while she was talking.
“You said you only ran away once in your life, that was it? What scared you enough to make you run?”
“You,” the single word bought an expression of confusion to his face. “Well word filtered down the ranks that Revan was coming, of course like you we didn't know who he was, he was just a Jedi to us. Then they started saying that he had a crack shot with him, that was just seen as a challenge and I was desperate to have Carth's head mounted on a wall somewhere.”
“Aren't we all?” Canderous murmured.
“But then someone bragged that he would kill himself a Mandalorian. Your name was mentioned and I did the most sensible thing I have ever done in my life, I ran for it. I got outside and everything became complicated.” She paused, met with stony but attentive silence. “The walkway I was running along collapsed and I had to climb up the outside of the Academy...” He held up a hand.
“The Academy, the Sith Academy on Korriban?” He took a deep breath, wanting nothing more at that moment than to wring her neck. “So you're a Sith? Sent to stop me?”
“No, Revan asked me to help you, he said that he knew you could never walk out on him. He thought it was mainly the morbid curiosity the Mandalorians are legendary for that kept you with him. He asked you to do something for him and he understood a lot about us because he knew you wouldn't dare back out. He knows we were once a proud, honourable race and he's seen what we have been reduced to. Brigands and mercenaries? We should be so much more! And he knew that you are the one man that can make it happen.” She was on her feet and in his face, her vehemence making him sheath his knife. “I hold a very loose allegiance to the Jedi Order, but a great allegiance to Mandalore. What I am is what you are. You walk away from me and I will burn Ordo to it's core, before I ever admit that I am your kin!” Canderous' mouth dropped open in shock, no-one had ever spoken to him like that in his entire life. A few people had tried, but only one of them had ever survived. “Not to mention that Mandalorians have sided with the Sith at every available opportunity. I find your lack of trust in me on discovery of the fact that I'm a Jedi, frankly disturbing. You're a hypocritical, old man, who only lives for the next war to start so he can revel in blood! You want lecture me about honour! When you re-discover yours, you can, until then... I have nothing more to a say to a hu'tuun like you!”
He slapped her, the blow was so hard it took her to her knees and broke her cheekbone. She shook her head, trying to clear her vision and his boot caught her under the chin, knocking her flat. He activated the lightsaber and kneeling down on her hands, held it to her throat, the blade touching her skin just enough for it to smoke.
“How dare you call me that!” He growled. She did not answer him, she was busy concentrating on the end of the hilt. Being threatened with a lightsaber was not the best focussing aid for a Jedi trying to unscrew something using the Force.
Glory Days by azizah
Summary: Dooku tries to find out just what is going on back at the Temple during the events of A Captive Temple.
Lights flickered on automatically as he stepped out onto the deserted terrace. Dooku waived them off impatiently. He preferred the darkness, there was nothing here to see but fountains and flowers. Had he been in the mood for pleasant scenery his personal preference would have run more toward the magnificent view of the glimmering cityscape, distant and perfect, far below in the valley.
He stood looking out for some time, so deep in his own thoughts that the lightest touch on his cheek startled him out of his brooding stupor. Glow moths. Their tiny insect song and soft whisper motion of their wings suddenly loud in his ear as they swarmed past him, drawn toward the warmth and light of the reception from which he had fled. Dooku had no such inclination. He moved a step further, out of the light into the shadow, the muted talk and laugher from the party inside followed him.
Dooku released a slow breath of uncharacteristic frustration. Inside, Taylar was in top form, full of flattery and sympathy, wit and good humor, flitting about the room from group to group just like one of these damnable insects. Try as he might, Dooku could not get the man alone.
The solution his dilemma was simple, of course. And it was under that pretence that Dooku had come away from the light and laughter to this dark corner.
He looked down at the comlink in his hand and hesitated. It really was a simple matter. The distance to Coruscant was not so great, he could know the truth of the matter in moments. He had but to ask and his former apprentice would willingly tell him everything, Qui-Gon had never denied his master anything that was within his power to give. It was just that it had been a long time.
Far too long, Dooku admitted with a sigh.
And how did one begin that conversation.
It has come to my attention that you’ve been in a bit of trouble lately. Come Padawan, the truth now, were you really responsible for the near destruction of the Temple?
But in all truth, he knew that this was not the real issue. Dooku was no more afraid of a few awkward moments than he was of losing a light saber duel to an initiate. No lack of proper words had ever stood between him and his padawan.
No, it was not the words that Dooku dreaded, it was something else. A subtlety so fine it should have been lost within the intricacies of interstellar communication. But it was there, broken down into parts, hurtled across the galaxy and perfectly recreated in the re-synthesized voice of his apprentice, and Dooku always recognized it immediately even though it was a quality he had never thought to connect to himself. Defeat.
That bastard, Xanatos!
With an effort, he quelled some rather un-Jedi-like emotions, and brought his thoughts into focus. He would not go down that road tonight.
Dooku glanced back inside, if anything the crowd around Taylar had grown.
There were other Jedi he could go to for answers. His own former master, Master Yoda, or his friend, Mace Windu both would readily and easily talk to him. But still he hesitated.
After a long moment, he keyed on his com and entered his identification code followed by another series of numbers.
The connection was instant, though no shimmering holographic form appeared before him in the darkness. There was no reason for a visual, the Temple’s assignment system was completely automated. With the proper access codes, the system gave the current status of all Jedi knights. When prompted, Dooku entered the code for Qui-Gon Jinn. It was a long code, but his fingers moved with a deft familiarity across the keypad.
A beat and then confirmation. Active - On assignment. A small green light flashing on screen confirmed the same information.
He closed the link, feeling slightly ridiculous. It was invariably the same. It was true that on a handful of occasions he had felt a sort of hollow justification at the unexpected blink of an anemic yellow alert light. Inactive. Usually followed by contact coordinates for the healer’s ward in the Jedi Temple. But these rare occurrences could be measured in the space of days. Or nights, passed with interminable slowness in some far corner of the galaxy.
Entering another code would have allowed Dooku to leave a message or if possible, convey the coordinates necessary for contacting the knight in question.
He never did.
-----signature-----
Before Awards Schedule:
Nominations: June 22- July 2
Excerpt submission period: July 6- July 16
Voting Period: July 20-July 29
Ceremony: August 2
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Before_Awards_Sock
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Date Posted:
7/5 12:59pm
Subject:
RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread
- Date Edited:
7/16 1:13pm (5 edits total)
Edited By:
Before_Awards_Sock
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Best Action
Attraction by dianethx
Note: Qui-Gon Jinn eats something, making him irresistible to women.
At the moment, he was trapped. Women were pulling at him and I could see him shrugging off the brown cloak that entangled him in the mob, that hampered his movements. The women seemed to enjoy this, lifting it high into the air and they began to tear it to pieces, making happy noises while they shredded it.
This was not good. They were eyeing him like he was a wrapped present and it was Life Day. As one woman, bolder than the rest, started to reach for his tunic, he was able to get one hand free and raised it high. I threw my cable launcher at him.
With a slight nudge in the Force, pushing the women back to get some breathing room, he caught it; then he was suddenly in the air, scrambling up the cable toward the chandelier.
There was a low collective moan and some of the more athletic in the mob were jumping up, trying to reach him.
He may be a large man but he's Force adept. He hung there, swaying slightly, looking down at the agitated crowd, a stunned and rather confused look on his face.
Some of the women were calling to him, begging him to come down, hands raised in entreaty. A few of them were crying. Others were still hopping around, trying to reach him any way they could. An enterprising woman, shorter than the rest, had taken one of the high-backed chairs, climbed up onto it and was using the added height to try and grab his ankle.
If it hadn't been so troubling, it would have been amusing - the chandelier with a Qui-Gon ornament attached, the crazed mob swaying back and forth in time with the fixture's movement.
But Qui-Gon's refuge was starting to disintegrate. Bits of dust and ceiling were floating down, covering the mob in white powder. And he was lower than he'd been just a few moments ago.
Not good.
There was a soft sputtering sound; larger pieces of duraplast clunked to the floor. Qui-Gon and the fixture he was clinging to slipped again and now he was only a few meters above the mob. Jumping distance if the person was athletic enough or standing on a chair.
It seems impossible but the chair-grabber launched herself into the air, hoping to catch my master's foot and drag him down. She missed, falling instead into the center of the pack, collapsing the crowd. For a moment, there was a scramble of arms and legs as the women tried to stand up again.
This gave Qui-Gon the opportunity he needed. Using the Force, pulling up his legs and using them to gather enough momentum, he and the lamp began to swing wildly, first one way and then another and finally, in one final desperate move, past the edge of the rabble. He let go, leaping free and sprinting for the door.
With a low groan, the mob realized that their prey had escaped and they turned, almost as one, and pelted after him.
I was a few steps ahead, barreling down the corridor toward the kitchen area. He was catching up fast. Long legs and the added incentive of an aroused swarm of demented women would do that.
I forced myself to go faster. But unfortunately, the hallway was the main conduit for food and drink to be moved from the kitchen into the ballroom. Hovercarts piled high with desserts choked the passageway; the remainder was filled with droids carrying trays of drinks.
We were in trouble.
Qui-Gon sprinted past, hair flying and tunics askew. "Keep up, Obi-Wan. Those women are..." Then, without missing a beat, he ducked under a mechanical arm and leaped over one of the floating dessert trays. All grace and style. "Irrational."
How he could fly through the air seemingly without effort was beyond me at the moment. But now was not the time to ask, not when a rabid mob was closing on us both.
Qui-Gon glanced back at me, then pushed ahead, forcing some of the droids out of the way. He was trying to make a path for me but I wasn't the one with the problem.
Still, I didn't want to slow him down. I followed his lead, dodging droids, leaping over the hovercarts, trying to catch up.
Unfortunately, I didn't have Master Qui-Gon's Force skills.
Jumping over the mountain of sweet treats floating down the hallway, tucking in as much as possible to avoid an accident, I thought I'd left myself enough room. Unfortunately, I was a little too cocky. Making it past most of the desserts, I came down on the other side of the hovercart but my boot clipped the edge.
Disaster.
Fast Forward by ardavenport
Scrabbling up onto the ground, almost level with the window, he ran a weaving path over debris and through random blaster fire toward the nearest skimmer. A small and skinny teenager, he easily evaded it. Reaching the first skimmer, he slapped the canopy release with his palm. Nothing happened. Nothing activated.
An explosion close by threw pebbles and chunks of buildings at him, some of them heavy. One crashed into the canopy of the skimmer. It cracked.
Running to the next one, Obi-Wan fleetingly thought about the Force, guided by his outstretched hand releasing the hatch on the skimmer. But he knew the advance thought poisoned the action. Do or do not. He didn't have time to try.
The canopy of the next skimmer rose immediately after he slapped the access panel. Engines hummed and lights inside the cockpit flashed as he climbed inside. The seat was big and too far back and the restraint straps too loose, but the engines fired up immediately, the computer blinked yellow, then green for lifters, lift boosters, acceleration dampeners, thrusters, thrust boosters, internal atmosphere, auxiliary life support. There were no weapons. And only orbital impact and heat shields.
Nothing happened when he clicked on the seat adjust, so he scooted forward, the loose safety straps sagging over his shoulders. He gripped the control stick in his right hand. The weight of the ship vanished, the lifters cancelling out the planet's gravity. The ship immediately drifted to the left and he corrected, then swung it around back toward the meeting buildings.
There was a huge, gaping hole over the window that he had escaped from, black smoke billowing up into the clouded sky. Qui-Gon popped up from behind a fallen section of wall and ran straight toward him. Obi-Wan continued turning the ship. He released the rear cargo space hatch and it flipped upward.
Qui-Gon leaped, the Force strong and sure as his body arced through the air and dove into the opening. The ship tilted and bobbed to the left with the impact and added weight, the acceleration dampeners barely keeping up. He could feel Qui-Gon adjusting his position with every dip and pitch of the ship. Obi-Wan boosted the stabilizers. The last pilot had routed extra power to the thrust boosters.
A line of blaster bolts streaked across the landing field, tearing up the duracrete, the pounding muffled from inside the sealed ship canopy.
Obi-Wan swung the ship around and upward and it zoomed toward the mountains. The seat adjustment finally snapped into place, but he hardly noticed the jolt forward, the safety restrains pulling tight over his narrow shoulders.
The cargo hatch was still flashing orange on his board. It was closed, but not sealed. He couldn't go out of the atmosphere. He banked and rolled past a steep purple-lichen covered slope.
The proximity alarm signaled four pursuit craft behind him with a string of honking beeps. Four green triangles wove and positioned themselves behind his white one on the computer screen. Yellow blaster fire streaked over the ship's canopy.
Obi-Wan rolled the skimmer and plummeted into a ravine, hugging close to the side, the rock face whizzing by. A rock outcropping exploded to his left before falling far behind.
A fifth ship joined the other four on his screen.
With a quick right angle turn, the long canyon floor changed to a ribbon of overcast daylight. The ship wobbled and bounced with Qui-Gon's weight in back, suddenly shifting to the opposite side. The status light of the cargo hatch went red. Open.
Obi-Wan fought the stick for control and re-routed more power to the stabilizers from the rear thrusters. The previous pilot had clearly valued speed over maneuverability. He dodged rock outcropping and clipped the ends of snaggly branches. A quick dodge of more blaster fire forced him into a roll that almost turned into a spin around the ship's unstable axis before he leveled his orientation again.
The canyon walls vanished. He was surrounded by gray sky again.
The rear hatch indicator went back to orange again. Then blue. Sealed. Pressurized. The auxiliary life support activated.
Obi-Wan's thumb pressed down hard on the rear thrusters. The ship angled straight upward. Gray surrounded him. Hazy yellow streaks flashed through the clouds, cleanly missing him.
His ship shot out into blue sky and indigo thinning atmosphere above. The white-yellow sun blazed behind him.
Obi-Wan headed straight for the rings.
Five ships emerged from the cloud layer, blasters firing in nearly every direction but toward his space skimmer. But after a moment Obi-Wan's proximity alarm went off again with six green triangles on the screen. He rerouted power from the lift stabilizers to the thrusters and arced the ship upward.
The Wise by 1Yodimus_Prime
The tree was ahead. The one he’d found on his walk the other day. This was why he’d found it. This moment, right now. It was perfect.
Rule number four: Always identify where the highest ground with the most exits is. If you need to make a stand, make it there.
With the aide of the Force, it took him only moments to ascend its massive, complex trunk. He was thirty feet up before the girl caught up to the base, hand on her eye. He slowed down to rest, and studied her carefully. She seemed normal, now that he could view her with less terror and shock clouding his judgment. Just a girl, a little older than he, wrapped in black animal fur, ropey hair, dirty hands, catching her breath. Not so scary after all.
Then she looked up.
There was something there he’d never seen before, not in anyone. Not even in those bullies on the street who would beat up on little kids till they passed out, just for fun, and leave them to their fate. This was beyond that. This was…this was something fierce and cold. Something dark and primal. Something calculating and intelligent. Something…murder. There was murder there, in that fiery look. And it was aimed at him. He closed his eyes, he took deep breaths. That terror was coming back. He had to stay calm.
He wouldn’t die if he acted rational. He’d be okay if he just stayed calm and acted rational and remembered his rules.
Rules I’ve never put into practice before. Rules I made when people called me by that stupid name and I was full of myself from all my scared followers’ praise. Who the heck am I kidding here?
Calm. Stay calm.
The girl began climbing. It was extra effort for her. Even though he knew she had the Force, she apparently didn’t know everything about it, because she wasn’t using it now. Dummy. You could be up here in seconds if you’d just paid more attention to your true power, instead of training to kill people or whatever. He shook his head, feeling disappointed in her. Who was the fool that taught this girl?
Then he snapped out of it. He should be taking advantage of this, not thinking of rebukes. What was he, a monk? She might be taking her time, but she had time to take. He didn’t have any. And now that he watched how she climbed it struck him: there really wouldn’t be a way out – an easy exit – from this situation. Not the way he’d expected. She was climbing erratically. Intentionally so. It would make anticipating her direction nearly impossible. There would be no way to predict where she’d be once he began climbing down. He was going to have to face her.
Or was he?
Rule number two: if you cannot avoid a fight, end it as quickly as possible.
He winced. He hated that one, because it left so much up to the person with nowhere to run, which wasn’t fair. Still, it was logical. And he’d had plenty of time under Lady Averus to think up something better, but he never did, so this would have to do. He searched around, his mind racing.
His Master had given him lots of lessons for his memory to pull from. There was one in particular that was about as clever as it got, though. He began concentrating on the branch she was about to step on. He concentrated on the fibers, woven inside, stuck firm to each other, holding strong. But maybe not so strong. Maybe a little bit loose, a little bit cracked. And oh, maybe they want to separate. Yeah, yeah actually, they do want to separate, they long for it. They want to be apart, they want to unweave. So they do.
She put her foot on the branch. It snapped. It fell. She went with it. He stifled a laugh as she lay on her back, groaning. Go ahead, try again. He smirked.
Except…she did try again. And faster, and more erratic and harder to predict, staring at him the whole way up with those cold, murderous eyes. He shuffled around the trunk, just to get something between him and those eyes. It occurred to him that maybe he should have waited a little bit longer before playing that trick. Long enough that her fall would do more than just knock the wind out of her. In fact, the boy suddenly realized, maybe he should have killed her. Maybe that was my chance. Maybe…that was my only chance.
Finally, it sank in, like the black roots of a weed, that this wasn’t a game.
Threads Of The Past by Magier
“What do you mean he’s not coming?” Anakin asked harshly over the comlink as he paced back and forth in the corridor, restless like a caged animal.
“Qui-Gon will be meeting you at the dock …”
“But … you said yourself that he rescued you …”
“And now you will,” Obi-Wan countered with determination.
“You have told me about the events in the mine, how it directly led to him finally choosing you … what about the timeline?” the padawan asked, throwing his master’s preoccupation back in his face.
“It was my destiny to be Qui-Gon’s apprentice, and we will have to trust the Force, that it can work through the change in events.”
Anakin muffled a groan as the transmission ended, stamping his foot hard against the ground. Qui-Gon should be charging in valiantly to rescue Obi-Wan. At least he was here, and he wouldn’t fail his master. Anakin slipped through the door again to where the boy was sleeping. Reaching out, he gently shook him. Obi-Wan opened his eyes, the bluish gray orbs widening in surprise. Anakin put a finger to his own lips.
“I am Anakin Skywalker. I’m here to rescue you. Let’s get out of here.”
Obi-Wan nodded and began to follow before stopping abruptly and tugging on the Jedi padawan’s tunics.
“Wait! Guerra.”
“It’s going to be sunrise soon, and when they find you missing, every guard in this place will be looking for you,” Anakin scolded. “You’re unarmed, and I don’t know how well I can hold all of them off.”
“Guerra helped me, and I owe him.”
Anakin couldn’t find an argument, especially staring into his master’s determined eyes.
“Okay, let’s find him.”
They made their way to a lower level of the platform, Anakin following the Force signature he recognized as belonging to Guerra. They found the long-limbed alien sitting by an open window, gaze fixed upward as the sun rose over the ocean. He clutched a sling made of tarps in his hands.
“Guerra!” Obi-Wan called.
The alien jumped. “Obawan. How did you escape?”
“A friend,” the boy said with a smile. “Now come on. We’re leaving.”
Guerra reached his hands up to his collar in panic. “I can’t leave. Neither can you, Obawan.”
Obi-Wan looked up at Anakin. “I forgot. It’s an electrocollar. It will blow us up if we leave.”
“Wouldn’t want that to happen.” Anakin flashed a bright white smile as he concentrated the Force on the transmitter in Obi-Wan’s collar.
“The buzzing is gone,” Obi-Wan said.
“We can remove it when we get to shore.”
“Yes, the guards in the security office on the Bandor loading dock carry the transmitter,” Guerra explained.
“We will just have to pay them a visit,” Anakin said.
The lights dimmed suddenly and an alarm, complete with flashing lights, began to sound.
“That’s our cue to exit,” Anakin breathed out. Why was nothing ever easy? Obi-Wan hesitated. “Come on,” Anakin said more forcefully.
“Go to the upper levels and hide,” Obi-Wan said to Guerra. “In an hour, your collar will be deactivated for good. Trust me.”
“I trust no one,” Guerra said as he started for a nearby stairwell. He paused, looking back over his shoulder. “Not so, Obawan! I trust you.”
They could hear footsteps in the corridor now. Anakin jumped up into the open window. He reached out and grabbed Obi-Wan’s arm, jerking the boy to his side. They climbed out on the railing. Anakin sensed the blaster fire before it erupted, pushing Obi-Wan to hydrocraft below as he ignited his saber.
“Start the engine,” he yelled as he jumped down to join the youth. Determination gleamed in his eyes as he began to deflect the blaster fire raining down on them. He finally allowed himself to relax as they zoomed out of weapon’s range.
“Where’s Qui-Gon?” Obi-Wan asked almost immediately.
“Waiting for us on shore.”
Disengaging his weapon, he turned to find Obi-Wan looking out across the sea. “I had hoped he would come for me.”
The boy turned back to face him, gray eyes churning like the turbulent sea. He had been on the other side of that look more times than he could count. It was filled with questions, and Anakin hoped there might be a few he could actually answer.
-----signature-----
Before Awards Schedule:
Nominations: June 22- July 2
Excerpt submission period: July 6- July 16
Voting Period: July 20-July 29
Ceremony: August 2
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Before_Awards_Sock
Registered:
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Date Posted:
7/5 12:59pm
Subject:
RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread
- Date Edited:
7/15 8:08pm (6 edits total)
Edited By:
Before_Awards_Sock
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Best Drama
A Long Time Ago, But Not so Far Away by Bastet
Author's note: Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan have crash-landed on a familiar planet (to the reader, that is), and now they've found out that their fight for survival has only just begun.
The vision abruptly ended, like a light switch being turned off, and Obi-Wan felt himself falling backwards into darkness. “Master!” he cried out, hardly aware he had done so out loud. The sound of the roaring water faded, and he landed on his back in the warm sand.
“Obi-Wan!” he heard Qui-Gon calling, and then he felt strong arms around him, lifting him up, and he reached out, grabbing onto rough cloth, anything to anchor himself to reality. “Padawan, what’s wrong? Speak to me!”
“The fire, it was burning everywhere, and the wave, Master!” Obi-Wan cried, his hands twisting in Qui-Gon’s tunic. “We’re going to die!”
“Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, look at me!” Qui-Gon said commandingly, and the boy immediately opened his eyes to see the concerned face of his master looking down at him. “You’re alright, Padawan, everything is okay.”
“No,” Obi-Wan moaned, shaking his head. “No, it’s not! It’s coming, Master! The Force warned me, it showed me! We’re in trouble!” He clutched harder at Qui-Gon’s tunic, unable to look past the man’s head and out at the ocean, for fear of what he might see. He felt his master’s large hand on top of his head, and then suddenly he felt a blanket of peace and calm enfold his mind, soothing his terror, allowing him to begin to relax.
“That’s it, my Padawan, calm down,” Qui-Gon said softly. Obi-Wan felt his master continue to pour comfort into him across their bond, and he closed his eyes again, dropping his shields to allow it to flow into him unhindered. Slowly his breathing evened out, and he sighed quietly in gratitude.
“Thank you, Master,” Obi-Wan finally whispered as he opened his eyes. He looked around, and saw that everything was the same as it had been earlier, the sky was blue with the occasional puffy white cloud, a cool breeze was blowing, and the forest was green and dim. And finally he was able to bring himself to look out over the ocean, and he saw with relief that it was still the same blue-green body of water stretching to the horizon that it had been before he had started his meditation.
“Can you tell me what happened, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon asked gently, and the padawan turned back to his master’s concerned blue gaze. He nodded, finally feeling calm enough to tell the big Jedi about his vision, as the horror of it was slowly fading under the clear blue sky and the tranquility of the moment, though he knew that it was something he would never forget. Slowly at first, Obi-Wan told his master of every detail, hardly aware that his shields were still down, allowing Qui-Gon to see everything as it had been in his vision as he spoke of it.
When Obi-Wan finished speaking, Qui-Gon remained silent for several minutes, taking in everything his padawan had told him. “Master, what are we going to do?” the young Jedi finally asked, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen. “We need to get out of here!”
It was another moment before Qui-Gon finally spoke, he had been gazing out at the ocean. He turned back to his padawan, his face serious. “Yes, we do, Obi-Wan,” he said regretfully. “We need to be far from here when that asteroid hits. But from your vision, I’m not even sure that will be enough. We need to find shelter, something much more substantial than a tree.”
“Like what?” Obi-Wan asked, still a bit too rattled to think very clearly. The desire to get as far away from the ocean and the forest as possible as quickly as possible was almost overwhelming him, it was taking almost all of his control not to jump up and start running right {i}now{/i}.
“I was thinking a cave would be ideal,” Qui-Gon said. “The deeper the better.” Then he put his large hand back on Obi-Wan’s head, and the boy closed his eyes as he felt his master sending him another wave of calm. “Just relax, my Padawan,” he said softly, obviously having sensed the boy’s restless agitation. “I don’t think the Force would have warned you about what was coming if there wasn’t enough time for us to do something about it.”
Headstrong by Itachi-Uchiha
He was alone in the room, just as he had been during most of his time as a Jedi. Forced to kneel on the cold hard marble of the intricate pattern in the center of the Council room floor. They didn’t care that he was beyond exhausted, weaving back and forth as he fought to keep himself from tumbling at their feet in a limp pile of black garments. The bright lights reflecting off the vehicles that buzzed outside the huge windows had him squinting his eyes.
Lowering his gaze it came to rest on the object that sat on the floor before him. He had spent hours crafting the silver cylinder, the gray durasteel now worn from constant contact with his hand. Even from this distance he could see the black scorch mark in the hilt from where a blaster bolt had slipped past his defenses. He’d decided to leave it as a reminder of his failure.
Failure. That word brought his thoughts careening back to the present and of the still figure who stood behind him. He could feel the accusing stare burning a hole in the back of his head as their bond briefly hummed with disappointment and hurt. Strong shields were abruptly slammed down, severing any lingering link between them. The sense of loss drove him forward, a hand forced to reach out and steady himself, keep him from falling face forward on the floor. For a brief instant he thought he felt an instinctive wave of worry from behind, but it vanished so quickly he decided he must have imagined it.
There were only three of the Council members present, the rest no doubt off on missions. He forced himself to straighten once again, his gaze briefly touching on each of theirs. His show of defiance did not go unnoticed, Master Yoda’s mouth creasing into severe lines of disapproval as the ancient master leaned forward.
“Grievous charges have been brought against you, Padawan Akshay. Anything to say in your defense do you?”
“No, Master Yoda.” He bit back a smirk at their surprised reaction before continuing. “Everything Master Qui-Gon has told you is true. I allowed my father to tempt me with the promise of power and wealth and was actively assisting his effort to wage war on a neighboring planet. When Master Qui-Gon confronted me with what he had learned I pulled my weapon on him.”
Master Yaddle’s feline eyes studied him with deep sadness. “Sense little remorse in you do we.”
“I regret my actions and know that what I did was unforgivable. If it will make you all feel better, I can grovel and plead for understanding but what good will that do? I have betrayed your trust and no amount of pleading on my part can change that.” He tilted his chin out while pulling his shoulders back. “I am prepared to accept whatever the Council decides is suitable punishment for my actions.”
Master Yoda shook his head slowly before shifting his gaze toward the silent figure behind Xanatos. “Anything to say on this matter do you, Master Qui-Gon?”
Xanatos froze as he awaited his mentor’s response. They hadn’t spoken on the trip back from Telos, both of them keeping a safe distance on the ship. Xanatos had little hope that his mentor was prepared to forgive and forget what had transpired.
“The trust between us has been damaged beyond repair.” Qui-Gon’s quiet words were laced with hurt. “I ask the Council to release me from my duty as Xanatos’ master.”
Eyes sliding shut, Xanatos bowed his head in acceptance of his mentor’s request. Even though he had expected such a response it still pained him to hear the words spoken aloud. They had been together for so long, Xanatos close to taking his Trials and being knighted when he’d allowed himself to be mislead and used. Although he understood Qui-Gon’s reasoning, a small childish voice buried deep inside still cried out in anger at the rejection.
Almost as if sensing his thoughts, Master Yoda’s ears flattened against his head, a sure sign he was unhappy. “Anything to say to Master Qui-Gon do you?”
Xanatos hesitated before shifting his body in the direction of his now former master. Qui-Gon’s expression was carefully guarded, arms crossed over his chest as he met Xanatos’ gaze with one that revealed nothing of his current thoughts. He seemed to have aged over the course of the last few days, appearing worn and almost fragile as he braced himself for whatever Xanatos had to say.
The Wise by 1Yodimus_Prime
Hiding was out of the question.
During the day he could walk openly in the streets, so long as he appeared purposeful and kept to the neighborhoods that tolerated him. But at night, they all came out. Violent, territorial gangs of children, older than he (always older), who sniffed out every safe place in the town and called it their’s. He had no protection, he couldn’t sleep, he was terrified and cold and exhausted from always having to keep moving, every night and every day so he didn’t look suspicious to the merchants or look like a target to the gangs. They didn’t even offer their victims a chance to join. They just surrounded them and beat them up until they bled. Until they bled a lot. Until they became wrecked little heaps on the dirty ground.
Then he would creep over, after they’d gone, and concentrate on the little cells and fibers that couldn’t be seen, helping them get reoriented, find their way, make them want to reconnect, regenerate, seal up, get better. When it worked, the being for whom all those little cells and fibers made up would awaken feeling better than ever, wondering if the gang’s actions had been nothing more than a bad dream. The boy, of course, would be out of sight by then.
Except, sometimes he was too scared to go near them afterwards, to help. Maybe because of what the older kids had said, or because they didn’t run off far enough. And sometimes, he didn’t help them because frankly, he didn’t think they deserved it.
In those cases, he’d just sit there behind a parked speeder or a dumpster or looking out the shattered window of an abandoned building, and he’d watch the wrecked little heap as it shuddered and shook and mumbled wrecked little things from its wrecked little mouth…and sometimes, staggering, they got up and limped off…and sometimes, to his regret, they stopped moving altogether.
Eventually, he knew in his heart that such a fate waited for him here. It was only a matter of time. If he didn’t find a way to get off the street, as soon as possible, he would die. He would be ganged up on, and would die. And no amount of intelligence and no amount of pure brilliance would stop that. He had to get out. Any way he could, he had to get out.
TBD
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Before Awards Schedule:
Nominations: June 22- July 2
Excerpt submission period: July 6- July 16
Voting Period: July 20-July 29
Ceremony: August 2
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Before_Awards_Sock
Registered:
Nov '04
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Date Posted:
7/5 1:00pm
Subject:
RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread
- Date Edited:
7/15 8:08pm (1 edits total)
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