Star Wars OPEN Elite League Limmie

IC: Setarcos Rhemes
General Manager’s State Room, Crown Jewel
En route to Keldabe, Mandalore

For only the second time that season, Setarcos travelled with the team. He could not help notice the strange looks and hushed whispers that emanated from the crew as he boarded prior to the last match. They scrambled to finish prepping his room just moments before departure a week ago. One brave soul girded up enough courage to inquire if the Queen would be accompanying him as well, only to depart relieved that she was not.

The truth of the matter was that he had not seen Variise for nearly one and a half orbital periods. Ever since the destruction of The M’nrydo she had been holed up in her private wing of Ryell Palace. Not once did she make a public appearance, not for the Monarchs home matches. Even when Kerry Trieste made her final public appearance at the Blue & Gold Bowl, Variise was conspicuously absent.

All of this had gone completely unreported by any media outlet on Rydonni Prime. This meant that pretty much no one, outside of those close to the Queen, in the rest of galaxy would have noticed either. Setarcos guessed that being able to control the news did have some advantages.

His daughter, Erika, wanted to do a tell-all report until he gently reminded her that by doing so would not only endanger herself, but her half-sister Laura, her cousin Nicholas, himself, and countless others. He reassured her that everything was well in hand and that once certain events had transpired that she would be more than welcome to publish her findings.

He knew that those events were almost upon them. “So, Aria, what news do you have for me?”



Aria Tor, the Deputy Director of S.P.E.A.R., along with Agent Melanie Mai, had been placed on the Crown Jewel at the insistence of Director Fu’rey. As far as the team and rest of the crew were concerned, she and Agent Mai were the co-pilot and pilot respectively. Their cover story was that the regular flight team contracted a highly contagious flu and was grounded. “Agent Kol’sin just reported in. Both Houses are secure, Sentinel is on station, the Raptors are watching the nest, and the Commander is waiting for the green light from Director Fu’rey.”

“What about the rest of the family?

“They’re on schedule and should be here in time for the game.”

“Thank you for the update, Agent Tor,” Setarcos just sat in his chair rubbing his tired eyes, “Make sure that this news does not reach the team. I don’t want them distracted before the biggest match of their careers.”

“Understood,” Aria was un-phased, the picture-perfect image of a disciplined soldier, “Is there anything else that I can get for you sir?”

“No. Thank you, Tor. That will be all.” She exited as silently as she had crept into his office. Alone with his thoughts, he couldn’t believe the course that his life had taken over the past decade – from reporting the news to making the news.

And it was just getting started…

---

IC: Vesper Lynd
Oyu’baat café, Keldabe, Mandalore
Galactic Cup Week, 276 ELL Season Awards

The glitz and the glamor of the Season Awards were starting to become old hat for Vesper, even if each year was unique in its own way. Last season she was the sole Monarch representative, having become shunned by ownership because of her contract and personal life choices. She even went as far as sitting with the Bakura Miners at the ceremony. This year she was surrounded by her entire team, including the coaching staff.

With the Monarchs being one of the two squads in the Galactic Cup Final, it was expected that they would all be in attendance, regardless of the number of nominees they had. Most of her teammates seemed to be comfortable in their suits and gowns, although it was hard to tell with Romo since he always had the same stoic look on his face. Two of them, Bry Dougant and Sugnok Umanh, kept tugging at their collars.

“Quite fidgeting you two,” Mia Silas smacked Bry’s hand as she was fixing Sugnok’s tie for what seemed like the tenth time, “From now on, each time your finger touches either of your collars you will owe me ten laps around the outside of the stadium. Trust me, Lex and Dawn will ensure that you repay your debt to me. Understand?” Both players nodded their heads.

The first Monarch nominee, Bella Starr, was announced to a loud chorus of cheers from the Monarch faithful. But they were drowned out by the cheers and boos for the next nominee, Erin Windreaver from the Smugglers. But when the winner’s name was read, it was apparent that the Monarchs lackluster defensive performance in the regular season was enough to tip the scales to Windreaver.

“Hey, being one of the top three rookies in the league ain’t bad for the 10th overall pick in the draft,” Bella commented as Erin walked up to get her award.

The next award featured a couple of familiar names, specifically Alana Glencross and Vesper. Since 270, Alana and Vesper had each been nominated three times. Vesper’s were all consecutive and the last time both of them were nominated in the same year Alana walked away with her second win. So when Vesper’s name was in the envelope she was pleasantly surprised. As she walked up to the podium she realized that she was the first person to win back-to-back Duchess Eldins.

“Wow,” the Monarch Army of Sixteen were still going crazy, “Wow. I mean… WOW!” The crowd gave a polite chuckle as they settled down, “When I found out that I was nominated against Duchess Alana for the Glencross Award… I mean Alana for the Duchess Eldin Award,” she felt her cheeks flush, “I thought I had less of a chance then I did last year going against my cousin Fae,” she couldn’t look up at the crowd, instead her eyes were glued to the award, “I am honored to be honored with this… well… honor for the second year in a row. Thank you and Alana,” she held the award out towards the Miners’ contingent, “I’ll flip you for number three. Thank you all.”

By the time she got back to her seat from her post award interview and reaction holos the new Comeback Player of the Year Award had been granted to Kasin Urdaaza. It was a shame that post season performances were not accounted for because Abe’s two straight shutdown games were definitely award worthy.

----- ----- ----- ----- -----

Visitor’s Locker Room, Mesh’la Vhetin, Keldabe, Mandalore
121st Galactic Cup Final, Monarchs vs. Smugglers

Vesper just sat, staring at the letter in her hands. Her eyes slowly welled up as a single tear trickled down her cheek and fell to filmsi below. With an audible sniffle she dried her eyes with the back of her hand. She felt that something like this would be almost common place for someone in a normal, run-of-the-mill family. But this was huge to her.

What some would look on as a simple, almost cheap, gesture of a handwritten note, invoked a powerfully emotional response from her. Honestly if the note had come from her mom or even one of her dad’s sisters, it would have warmed her heart, but it probably would not have reduced her to tears like these words.

For the first time in her life, she felt like she was more than just a part of the Noble House of Trieste. She felt like she was part of the family.

Carefully she folded up the letter and replaced it in its envelope. Looking down, her palms are sweaty, knees weak and arms are heavy. She looks over to a corner where Abe is vomiting in trash bin. She feels nervous, but on the surface she looks calm and ready to drop bombs on the Smugglers.

Each time she closes her eyes she sees that she keeps forgetting the plays they’ve drawn up. The crowd gets loud when she touches the bolo, but the ball just won’t come out of her hand. She chokes, becomes the butt of everyone’s jokes, the game clock runs out, the Cup is lost, it’s over. BUZZZZ! Her eyes snap open, back to reality.

Slipping the specialty jersey over her head, she takes a deep breath and stands in the middle of the room. “Listen up everyone. You need to ask yourself, if I had one shot, or one opportunity, to seize everything you’ve ever wanted - just one moment – would you capture it, or just let it slip away? So lose yourself in the match, the moment. You need to own it. You better never let it go. Because you may only get one shot, so don’t miss your chance to own the galaxy. This opportunity may come once in a lifetime. Just remember that you can do anything you set your mind to.”

“At the beginning of the season we were just learning who we were to each other,” She looked into each and every one of her teammate’s eyes, “Now we know. We are a family. I love each and every one of you. Now let’s get out there and show those Smugglers what happens when you go against the FAMILY!”

TAG: Trieste & Vehn & Everyone else indirectly, if you went to the awards.

 

IC: Jayla Leed
Home Team Locker Room, Mesh’la Vhetin, Keldabe, Mandalore
121st Galactic Cup Final

Music For Post​

Her uniform was all set. Her gloves were cinched down tight. Her cleats were snug and ready to go. She was ready to play. She was ready to make a difference today. She was ready to make history. She was Jayla Leed and she had helped dominate the box for the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers this year. She reflected on the journey that had brought her out to Nar Shaddaa. To the last place she had ever wanted to go.

She had been acquired by Nar Shaddaa in a trade with the Coruscant Senators. When she’d first heard the news she was reluctant to board the shuttle to the Vertical City, to a team that was her rival. She didn’t want to play for the Smugglers. She hadn’t wanted to don the burgundy and black. She had no choice. At first transitioning to the Smugglers had been rough. Hadn’t been easy. But that transition was made easier by Meredith Chambers, defensive coordinator, Hall of Famer, and Limmie legend in her own right.

Chambers had helped redefine Leed’s game, helped make her better, stronger, faster, and more aggressive. That product showed on the field this year and now here she was in the Galactic Cup Final. She couldn’t even begin to wrap her mind around that thought. She leaned against the locker and closed her eyes. This was her time. It was now or never.

She reached her gloved hands up to her face, the old ritual, something that she’d seen Meredith Chambers do during her playing days, and inhaled. Memories of her youth, memories of playing for the Senators, memories of dreaming of holding the Galactic Cup high above her head came to her in a sudden rush. This was where she needed to be. She was a Smuggler. She loved this team. Now she had to deliver.

It was time.

---

IC: Erin Windreaver

Reaver pushed a strand of jet black hair away from her eyes and flexed her muscles. She thought of her own journey as Tover Micjaa called for the team to gather around. How she’d been discarded as a failure at the midfield position and tormented by the media for coming from the backwater planet of Tatooine. But she’d learned to live in the heat. She’d learned to survive in horrid conditions. She’d learned to push her body harder and faster than her competitors because water was a commodity by which
she’d learned to live without.

She was Erin Windreaver. She was a first round draft pick of the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers. She’d just picked up the Ingbrand Award on Mandalore a few nights ago. What a night. What a memory. Never in her wildest dreams had the sand-swept face of Erin Windreaver imagined that she would be winning Elite League Limmie awards, that she would be picked up by such a storied franchise, that she would now start in her first ever Galactic Cup.

She knelt down in a tight huddle with the team, arms interlocked with those around her, and lowered her head.

It was time.

---

IC: Tover Micjaa

“Gather around, gather around,” Tover said softly as he waved the team in around him. The formed up in a circle with him in the center.

He knelt on one knee, one aging knee, and grunted a bit. He wasn’t as spry as he used to be. That was hard to swallow. Hadn’t he always been a young man? Well, not to these kids, not to these kids. He was an old man to them now.

“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” Tover casually asked.

“Yes sir,” came a chorus of voices.

Tover looked around the locker room, eyed it up, sighed and replied, “Well, I’ve played in better.”

That drew a few laughs.

“I’ve played in a lot worse, too,” Tover added.

More laughter.

“I wanted to take this moment to tell you guys, and gals,” Tover said nudging Mylessa McCloud, “to really appreciate where we are today. How we got here. What we’ve accomplished. Really, go ahead, think about it. Take a look at your friend next to you. Take a look at your coaches. Take a good, long, hard, look at yourself. Everyone has worked hard to be in this moment. Count your blessings, people, because this moment is but a fleeting blip in time. A grain of sand. Nothing more, nothing less.

Tover looked down at the floor, his jaw contorting a little bit, he fought back his emotions. He looked back up at his team. “The last time I was in a Galactic Cup game was 13 years ago. Most of you were kids. Some of you might not have even been born, I don’t know. But what I do know is that opportunities such as the one we have today only come knocking once. If you’re lucky, they come knocking more than once,” Tover paused as he looked up at Meredith Chambers who smiled at him, “but I wanted to tell you to enjoy every minute out there today. No matter what happens. No matter what unfolds. I want you to play with heart, with pride, play the way you know how, and the rest will take care of itself.

“Out there,” Tover pointed, “we’ve got a hungry Monarch team. Nobody thought they could make it here. Most of the crowd is going to be pulling for them. We may be wearing our home jerseys but consider yourselves in hostile territory. You won’t get any love from the bucket-heads, you won’t get any love from the fans from Rydonni Prime, but know that you will always have my love and my respect. Today is your day. Today is our day.

“I’ve coached a lot of Smuggler teams over the years. I’ve won a Galactic Cup with Meredith Chambers. I’ve won with Rhia Grames. I’ve lost a couple as well. I’ve retired from the league. I’m a Hall of Famer,” Tover paused as he wiped a single tear from his eyes, “I am a great many things but I can honestly tell you from the bottom of my heart that this team, right here, right now, is one of the best I’ve ever coached. Honestly. You are the best.

Not a word was said. Only the buzzing of the lights in the locker room could be heard.

“Today is our time,” Tover said pointing at each and every player, “our time. Not their time. Our time.”

He thrust a hand into the center of the circle. One by one his team, his players, they followed suit.

“Today is our time!” They roared before heading out of the locker room and down the tunnel.

Tover smiled and followed them out at a jog.

It was time.

---

IC: Kaitlyn Vehn

Kaitlyn had greeted her family in the owner’s box only after security had swept it for any explosives that Taab might have left for her as gifts. She’d gotten a big hug from Eleanor and then Verity, shook hands with Oisin, and cuddled with Grace, Eleanor’s daughter. Jack and Lilly had accompanied her to Mandalore to watch the game and Kaitlyn noticed that Lilly paid attention to details the entire time as she watched the Monarchs warm up on the field. The young girl’s mind was always hard at work. Always paying attention, always so serious.

“I’ll be back in a few,” Kaitlyn told Verity as she made her way down to the tunnel.

She had a ritual. She had a routine. She had to let her team know that through thick and thin, through it all, she would support them. How things had changed for her. She’d hated Nar Shaddaa when she first came and had slowly fallen in love with the entire city, the franchise, and by extension, the Valor Foundation. She’d found a big part of herself in all those experiences, seen a side to her that she hadn’t ever realized was there. That was important. That was special. That meant something to her team, to her fans, to her own peace of mind.

Kaitlyn waited at the end of the tunnel. From the darkness came the pounding of cleats on durracrete. Out of the shadows came the burgundy and black jerseys that she had helped re-design. Then the staff that she had called from the corners of the universe to come together and put together a team that could win it all. There was John Huntington, a Galactic Cup champion with the Smugglers in ’67 and an offensive genius. There was Meredith Chambers, no further explanation needed. There was Mylessa McCloud and Erin Windreaver, her two first round draft picks and ELL award winners. One look told her everything she needed to know. They were ready.

“Miss Vehn,” Reaver said.

“Miss Vehn,” McCloud said.

And so on until Tover Micjaa, the grizzled veteran, emerged from the darkness of the tunnel. Kaitlyn had a sudden memory of calling Tover out of retirement. Of asking him to assemble a contender, of wanting him to deliver on a promise to her that he’d made
when he’d taken the job not so very long ago.

“Miss Vehn,” Tover said as he reached out a hand to Kaitlyn who wrapped him in a tight embrace.

“Go bring me my Cup,” Kaitlyn whispered in his ear.

Tover squeezed her tight as only true friends can do and then raced off to join the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers in the rain-soaked, mud-ridden field of the Meshla’ Vhetin.

Kaitlyn heard the rain come down, the fierce, raucous roar of the crowd, and closed her eyes in quiet prayer.

Dear Maker, let it be our time.

Tag: CPL_Macja

 

OOC: After recovering this from a private message and performing a new copy-edit, here is the climax to this season's portion of my story in all its glory. This post bears the Trieste Stamp of Approval™. At 5,200 words, I believe this is my longest post yet, so grab a snack, sit back, and enjoy.

IC: Zay Antilles
Location: Cafeteria, Jedi Temple, Ossus
Time: One day before the Galactic Cup Final

Zay took another bite of his sandwich, but his mind was not on eating. He was thinking about recent developments in the hunt for Rondy Bassell. By all appearances, their informant had been captured by someone who hated the Jedi, or at least Zay personally. On top of that, his best friend Tenal Dahn had disappeared three months ago without a trace while investigating a lead on Rondy. There was no hard evidence connecting Rondy to the disappearances, but the circumstantial evidence was aplenty.

Zay was so lost in his thoughts about this that he didn't notice his Master, Palla Quelkin, sitting down beside him. She unwrapped her own sandwich, then looked at Zay. “A credit for your thoughts?” she finally asked.

Startled by the words, Zay's head snapped up and swiveled before he saw his Master. “Oh,” he said. “I was thinking about the disappearances, you know, of Tenal and the informant. I think Bassell's connected to both of them.”

“All we have is circumstantial evidence.”

“I know, but it just fits too perfectly. You need motive, means, and opportunity. We have motive—the informant was giving away his secrets and Tenal was trying find him and might have learned a little too much—and opportunity—the informant was probably part of the organization, giving Bassell easy access to him, and where Tenal was investigating he could have easily run into his thugs or even Bassell himself. We just need to know the means.”
“Yeah, I suppose that makes sense. Still, I—wait.”

Palla's hand drifted to her lightsaber, and Zay automatically did the same. A moment later, a young Padawan ran into the cafeteria, with her lightsaber ignited and held in front of her in a guard position. “The Temple is under attack!” she yelled, motioning with her free hand for others in the cafeteria to join the fight.

Zay pulled his new lightsaber off his belt, but did not ignite it yet. He turned back to Palla. “What do you think? Nerf steak dinner says it's Bassell.”

“You'd have to give me ten-to-one odds before I'd consider taking that bet. Come on. Let's find the bastard.”

Zay let his Master lead him out of the cafeteria and info the fray. The situation did not look good; Zay could already see five Jedi, including a pair of Masters, down, and that was just in the small portion of the Temple he could see. The Force surged to his right, and without thinking he ignited his lightsaber and blocked a pair of blaster bolts in one smooth motion, while dodging a third. Receiving another warning through the Force, Zay spun out of the way as three more bolts fired in unison barely missed him.

The tactic was scarily effective. Trained Jedi could deflect a dozen or more blaster bolts a second, but that relied on being able to deflect one at a time. With three simultaneous bolts, the most a Jedi could deflect with a single lightsaber was two; the third was slipping by and taking down victims. Realizing that he was outmatched against opponents that had obviously trained and developed special tactics for fighting Jedi, Zay ran for cover; Palla was only two steps behind.

He needed a plan. Stealing a glance at an attacker's uniform, he spied the logo over the left breast, confirming what he had thought back in the cafeteria. Rondy Bassell was behind this.

“Fighting them one-on-one isn't going to work here,” said Palla. “We need to decapitate the command chain.”

“Which means fighting Bassell,” Zay finished.

“Exactly.”

Zay sunk himself into the Force, and almost immediately he felt a dark side presence, the same one he had felt back in the Unknown Regions. The presence seemed to respond this time, acting like a beacon drawing him to the hangar on the east side of the Temple.

“Come on,” he told his Master. “I know a shortcut.”

Without waiting for Palla, he sprinted down the hall, deflecting two stray bolts that came near him, then leaped into the air and kicked out an air vent before crawling inside, deactivating his lightsaber as he did so. A moment later, he heard the thud of his Master landing behind him.

“This is your 'shortcut'?” she asked with a little disdain. “I don't even want to know how you found this.”

Zay ignored the comment and scurried down the duct. Two minutes later, he reached the end and peered out the vent.

“Any of our friends out there?” asked Palla when she caught up.

“All clear,” said Zay. He pushed himself against the side of the duct, giving him room to swing his leg. It connected with the vent and sent it flying out into the hallway below. Zay leaped down and landed on his feet, and Palla did likewise.

“Now what?” asked Palla.

Zay felt into the Force and felt the dark presence again, pulling him... that way. Without saying anything he took off in that direction, trusting that his Master would follow. He rounded the corner and spotted two of Rondy's soldiers guarding either side of the hangar doors. Immediately, he ignited his lightsaber, expecting them to open fire. Instead, the guards raised their blasters for a moment, then lowered them. One guard reached behind him and pushed a button, causing the doors to open, then motioned for Zay to proceed inside.

Confused, Zay stopped. Was it a trap? Or did Rondy specifically want to deal with him and Palla himself? With Palla, her own lightsaber ignited, now beside him, he cautiously approached the doors, but neither of the guards made any threatening move toward them. Finally, they found themselves inside the hangar, and the door closed behind them.

With no enemy in sight, Zay and Palla deactivated their lightsabers for the moment, but kept them in their hands. They proceeded forward, and upon rounding a corner, found what they were looking for.

Standing in the middle of the room, back to the outside hangar doors where his ship was parked for the moment, was the man whom they had been hunting down for the better part of three years, who had been put in prison twice but escaped both times, and who had orchestrated an attack on the Euceron Storm a little over a year ago that resulted in the deaths of six players: Rondy Bassell. He was surrounded by a semicircle of about five dozen soldiers around the perimeter of the hangar behind him and to his sides.

Standing about five meters behind Rondy was another man, who looked virtually identical to Rondy except for having a little bit more muscle on his arms. Rather than wearing the same uniform that Rondy and the soldiers were wearing, however, he was wearing casual clothes, including an unzipped jacket that hung loosely from his shoulders. In his right hand, he was holding a wrapped package in the shape of a human being. The Rondy look-alike raised his left hand, then motioned to the soldiers around the room, who lowered their blaster rifles.

Rondy stared at Palla and Zay for a moment, and the two Jedi returned the gesture. Zay was the one to break the silence. “You won't get away with this.”

“It is not I that you should be concerned about,” Rondy replied with a chuckle. “There is far more in play here than you know.”

“Rondy,” Palla said, “while it is probably a waste of breath, I am going to give you one chance to put an end to this attack and turn yourself in.”

Rondy stared at Palla for a moment, then threw his head back and laughed. “Only a fool would make that offer,” he said. “You fail to realize that I am not even in charge of this operation. Allow me to introduce you to the real person in command.” He motioned to his look-alike, who took three steps forward, dragging his package with him. “This is my twin brother, Rosty. He has been in command of the attacks since the beginning, and I believe he has a few words to say.”

Zay probed the Force, and realized that Rosty was the source of the dark Force presence that he had felt. One Bassell is enough, he thought. Two is ridiculous.

“So you probably want to know why I'm doing this, don't you?” asked Rosty with a grin. “Don't even bother asking that because I know the answer is yes. Let me tell you my story. I hate Euceron. I grew up on Euceron, but it was a bad place. I was just seven years old when my parents were victims of gang violence, gunned down in broad daylight in front of their house. Rondy and I spent the next year fending for ourselves because the government was so corrupt that children's services couldn't even operate correctly. You try growing up like that and see if you don't end up hating your home planet.”

“Euceron's not like that anymore,” said Palla.

“Yeah, whatever. Too little, too late for us. Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, that brings me to my next point, which is that I hate the Jedi. Why, you might ask? Because after a year of fending for ourselves, a Jedi discovered us on the streets. He took us in, promised to find us better living conditions, a family. Do you know what that kriffing bastard did? He took us to the next planet, some backwards dirtball that probably doesn't even have a name, and abandoned us at the spaceport! Y'all should be ashamed of yourselves for doing that to a pair of helpless kids. We were stuck on that dirtball for five years. No wonder I hate the Jedi! In fact, I hate everyone that associates themselves with Jedi, including this traitor,” he said, holding up the package in his right hand.

Rosty reached over with his left hand and ripped the paper off of the top of the package, revealing a human face. Zay instantly recognized the face as that of their informant, who was obviously drugged and unconscious. Before Zay could react, Rosty moved the informant in front of him and put his left hand behind the informant. “No one betrays me and gets away with it,” he commented. As soon as those words were uttered, Zay heard the distinctive sound of a lightsaber igniting, followed by a red bar of light emanating from the informant's chest. The red bar of light then disappeared, and the informant dropped to the floor dead, leaving Rosty holding a lightsaber in his left hand.

Zay fought the urge to say something. Gritting his teeth, he kept his mouth shut. He knew Rosty wanted a reaction, and he wasn't going to give it to him. Palla, beside him, had apparently decided the same, for she kept silent as well.

With the Jedi remaining silent, Rosty simply continued talking. “Oh, did I also mention that I hate the Euceron Storm? What that poodoo Tunran clan did to me was ridiculous and highly illegal. That—“

“Is there anything you don't hate?” Zay commented.

Rosty looked Zay square in the eye, then let out a deep belly laugh that persisted for several seconds. Finally, he replied. “As a matter of fact, yes, yes there is. Me, for one. And the other would be you.”

Zay was confused by this. “Me?”

“Yes, you. You know, Rondy and I might be identical twins, but the Force can be a fickle thing, for somehow I was the only one that ended up Force-sensitive. I have studied the Force on my own for practically my whole life, and now I am more powerful than any Jedi. You pathetic Jedi don't know even a hint of the power you could have if you would accept the full spectrum of the Force. Oh, I've seen the current Sith, but they are just a shell of their former self. Mere pretenders, cowards, not worthy of the title of Sith Lord. It's time for a new era of the Sith. I wish to reinstate the policies of the greatest Sith Lord ever, namely Darth Bane and his Rule of Two.

“But before I can do that and call myself a Sith Lord, I have to find the missing piece of the puzzle. That is a worthy apprentice. And I have a particular Jedi in mind for that role. You, Zay, would make a fine Sith.”

“I will never turn to the dark side,” Zay immediately said.

“Or so you think. Palla has taught you well, but only under me can you discover your full potential. Join me, and I will complete your training.”

Zay spoke not a word in response, but simply ignited his lightsaber. Beside him, Palla did the same. “No,” she stated firmly. “This reign of terror ends now.”

Rosty sneered. “Or so... you... think!” he said, igniting his own lightsaber on “think”, sprinting forward, and bringing it down on Palla.

Palla blocked the overhead blow, and Zay took advantage of the opening, slashing at Rosty's exposed side. Rosty managed to spin away, and for a moment, they were separated again. Jedi and Sith—wannabe Sith, Zay reminded himself—stared each other in the eye for a moment, then simultaneously closed the gap. All three lightsabers clashed together between them in a momentary standoff before Zay was forced to take a step backward. He noted that Palla had likewise done the same.

Rosty weaved a powerful combination of attacks, and Zay could barely keep up with the barrage. He was repeatedly forced to back up, the attacks just too strong for him. Suddenly aware of the fact that Rosty was quite capable of killing both of them, Zay changed up his strategy. The aspiring Sith Lord had pushed them to the side of the hangar, where there were some pillars that Zay felt he could use to his advantage.

As Rosty pushed them near one of the pillars, Zay made his move, flipping backward and coming around the pillar from the other side in an attempt to flank Rosty and force him to defend both his front and back at once. But Rosty read the move perfectly, twisting slightly and lashing out with a Force-enhanced kick that caught Zay cleanly in the abdomen. The impact forced his stomach to empty itself, and as Zay flew back into the wall, he left the remnants of his sandwich behind, projectile vomiting them onto the hangar floor. Even so, he had the presence of mind to call on the Force to soften his impact with the wall.

As Zay lay against the wall, taking a moment to recover from the shock of the impact, he watched as Rosty picked up Palla with the Force and slammed her into a pillar. Reaching out into the Force, Zay determined that his Master has suffered serious, but not life-threatening, injuries. He stood up just as Rosty ripped the column free from its foundation and unceremoniously dropped it on her, pinning her to the ground.

Now Zay was angry. He charged at Rosty, launching a flurry of attacks. He managed to push Rosty back into the main part of the room, but slowly and at the cost of precious energy. When Rosty leaped high into the air and landed some twenty meters away, Zay took the moment to rest, only now realizing how much the round of attacks had cost him. Rosty reached inside his jacket with his free hand and withdrew another lightsaber. Zay did a double-take—it couldn't be, could it? Slowly, he realized that it was—the lightsaber that Rosty had just pulled out was that of his best friend, Tenal Dahn.

“Now you know what happened to that pathetic fool,” Rosty taunted. “You know, Tenal has a very loud scream. And he didn't take to the Embrace of Pain very well. It took me about a month and a half to get used to his screams coming from the torture room.”

Zay was in shock. Tenal had been tortured? For a month and a half?!

“And you want to know what I did next?” Rosty mocked, letting out a sickeningly evil laugh. “First I cut off his toes. Then I cut off his fingers. Next, the hands and feet. After that came little discs of arms and legs. It took me ninety-nine cuts to completely remove his arms and legs, each one accompanied by yet another scream. It's a crying shame that I couldn't make it an even one hundred. But then I put him out of his misery, but not before one final torture. You see, I cut his head off as slowly as I possibly could. That poor kid screamed bloody murder for twenty minutes straight before he finally had the decency to die.”

As Zay listened to the description of Tenal's torture, he felt the anger welling up inside of him. Kill him, said a little voice in the back of his head. Make him suffer the way Tenal did. Zay tried to ignore the voice; such things were the way of the dark side, the ways of the Sith. He did not want to go down that path.

But when Rosty got to the part about about Tenal's death, something inside of Zay snapped. He no longer cared about what was right or what was the Jedi way. Rosty had done terrible things, and he needed to die, and die in the most painful way possible, and now. Zay's face scrunched up as his look of shock was replaced with one of pure, loathing hatred, and he charged at the man who had tortured his best friend. Rosty merely laughed as he blocked Zay's furious attacks with both lightsabers.
Zay called on the Force to enhance his attacks and was able to push Rosty around with ease, one attack after another forcing him backward. This time, the attacks did not tire him, but rather gave him energy. Rosty, despite now being on the losing end, was grinning from ear to ear.

“Good! Good!” he said to Zay. “Use your hatred. Let it flow through you.”

For a moment, Zay's attack faltered, and Rosty was able to push him back a step as Zay processed what his opponent had said. Suddenly, Zay realized how much he had let Rosty get to him with Tenal's torture. He realiszed that he had lost control of his actions. He realized that he had been calling on the dark side for energy and power since then. And perhaps most importantly, he realized that the vision of Rondy that he had had two weeks ago on Ilum, while constructing his lightsaber, was referring to this moment right here—and the fate of the entire Jedi Temple could depend on his decision.

Zay was pushed backward three more steps as he considered all of this. Finally, he made his choice. Zay hit Rosty with a Force push, which, although not very effective, was enough to create a couple meters of separation between them. With the duel broken up for the moment, Zay took a deep breath, and purged the dark side from his body.

“You've failed. I will never turn to the dark side.”

Rosty's smile quickly turned into a look of anger, but Zay did not notice, for he was in the process of bathing himself in the light side of the Force. Having summoned the full power of the light side, Zay resumed the attack, this time under full control of his actions. Methodically, he pushed Rosty back one step at a time, holding on to the advantage but careful not to expend too much energy. The look of anger on Rosty's face gradually melted into an expression of fear, as he realized that he was outmatched—yet Zay stood between him and escape. The Padawan was fully aware of this fact and used it to his advantage, pushing Rosty toward the back of the hangar. With one particularly powerful attack, Zay knocked Tenal's lightsaber out of Rosty's hand, then called it to his own.

Now Zay had the advantage of two lightsabers to one. Rosty tried to mount a defense, but Zay was just too good, able to move Rosty around at will. The limitations of Rosty's self-taught skills were becoming apparent, as Zay noticed that he was repeating the same patterns, with little variety in his lightsaber moves; the repetition was well-disguised, making it difficult to spot in the heat of battle, but it was there. One such pattern left his weapon arm exposed for a split second, and the next time Zay spotted that sequence, he took full advantage. With one slash, Zay sliced off Rosty's right hand at the wrist, and it and the lightsaber it was holding fell to the ground.

Almost immediately, Zay felt a warning surge through the Force, and he leaped across the room to his Master's defense as the soldiers circling the room opened fire. Zay held off the attack, deflecting each and every one of the blaster bolts back at the soldier who fired it. Rosty took the opportunity to break for his ship, and Zay noticed him nodding at Rondy as he passed. Rondy spoke a few words into his comlink, then withdrew as well. A minute later, soldiers began to stream into the hangar and load up on the ship, even as the forces that had already been in the hangar continued their barrage on Zay and Palla, preventing Zay from interfering with the escape. Within three minutes, every enemy soldier, including those in the hangar had loaded up, and Zay watched as their ship lifted off and made for the stars.

Zay turned his attention to his injured Master. Reaching into the Force, it took him only a small amount of effort to lift the heavy pillar off of her. Just then, several Jedi, including the Grand Master, came running in. Suddenly, the weight of all of the effort of the entire duel hit Zay like a ton of bricks, and he collapsed to the floor in exhaustion. His last thought before passing out was I hope my Master is alright....

---

IC: Palla Quelkin
Location: High Council Chambers
Time: The next day

“So that's the damage report,” said Weric Sorott. The Muun Jedi Master and High Council member sighed as he said this, then leaned back in his chair, waiting on the Grand Master to respond. The entire Council, as well as Knight Palla Quelkin, who was standing to the side of the door supported by a pair of crutches, fixed their eyes on Kash, as he studied the report on a datapad.

All of a sudden, Kash stood up, reared his arm back, and threw the datapad as hard as he could into the far wall, where it promptly shattered into a dozen pieces. Palla involuntarily pulled her head down as if to dodge, even though the datapad had missed her by several meters. The Grand Master would have made a good limmie player with an arm like that, she thought.

“How the kriff did we let them do this?!” Kash yelled. Realizing that his anger was getting the better of him, he sat down and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down before continuing. “Fifty-eight dead, a hundred and nineteen injured. And that's just Jedi, never mind the decimation of Temple security. Hell, they even took down Esli Corsh.”

Palla's eyes drifted three seats to Kash's right, to the empty seat where the Kel Dor Master had sat during Council meetings. Palla herself had sparred with Esli more than a few times and knew that she was a master among masters in the art of lightsaber combat. It had been rumored that she was next in line for the position of Battlemaster when Kerrick Kre'fey could no longer keep up in his old age. Now she was dead, and Kre'fey with her, leaving a vacuum at the Battlemaster position.

“The past cannot be remade, Master Skywalker,” Ada Skobra quietly reminded him. The Lannik Master reached over from her seat next to Kash and placed a hand on his shoulder. “We need to determine how to proceed from here.”

“I know,” Kash said. “It's just that, I mean, never in a million years did I think this Temple could be violated like this, just for the purpose of trying to turn one Padawan to the dark. I don't even know where to start.”

“Perhaps we can start with that one Padawan. It may be time to give him another chance at the Trials.”

“Okay, that seems as good of a place as any to start. As you all know, I recuse in matters involving Zay, so I leave it to the rest of you to discuss this.”

Zenlin Koan, a human sitting across from Kash, spoke up. “I would argue that he's already passed the Trials.”

That set off a series of murmurs throughout the Council room. Kash held up a hand to quiet everyone, then addressed Zenlin. “I don't get it. Explain.”

“He passed the Trial of Insight last year during the first go-around. That leaves four Trials,” Zenlin explained. “During the first round, he lost his arm. Since then, he's accepted that and dealt with it in an appropriate manner, so that can count as his Trial of the Flesh. The other three come from his duel with this Rosty guy: Courage for facing a superior opponent, Skill for defeating him, Spirit—”

Zenlin got no further before the room was filled with an uproar. After a moment, Ada Skobra finally got everyone's attention and spoke the words that everyone else had been trying to say. “I would hardly call a self-trained wannabe darksider 'superior'.”

“Just look at how the duel went down,” Zenlin said. “Rosty was pushing not only Zay, but Palla too, around with ease at the start. And you heard Palla's own report a few minutes ago. Zay needed to summon the entire power of the light side to best him. Just because he's self-trained does not mean he's inferior. On the contrary, I find that in any martial art, those who are primarily self-taught with little or no formal training are the most dangerous. And I would certainly consider lightsaber dueling a martial art.”

Ada was already shaking her head. “But the only data we have to judge on is that Zay beat him. Without data on who he's capable of beating, we can't make such a judgment.”

Palla, who had been observing the debate from her place near the wall, finally felt the need to say something. “Excuse me, Master?” She hobbled her way to the center of the room. “Remember that Rosty beat me with ease. During the short time I was in that fight, I was thoroughly outmatched. He took me out of that fight like I was a first-year student. You want data on who he can beat? He beat me, and you, Master Skobra, of everyone now sitting on this Council know that I'm no slouch when it comes to lightsaber skills.” Palla paused for a moment to let that sink in, then continued. “And don't forget that I had a good view of the rest of the fight from when I was pinned. I know my Padawan's level of skill in virtually everything. And when I was watching him duel Rosty Bassell by himself, I truly feared for his life. That's how good Rosty was.”

Without waiting for a response, Palla pivoted on one crutch, then hobbled back to where she stood before, leaving the Council room in silence. After a couple of minutes, a Barabel sitting to Kash's left finally spoke. “This one agreez with Palla,” Melodia Ardonel said. “The skill of Rosty Bassell cannot be denied.”

Several other Council members chimed in, agreeing with Melodia, and Ada threw in the towel. “Okay, fine, I see the point here. I can accept the Trials of Skill and Courage here. But what about Spirit?”

“Remember that Rosty tempted Zay with the dark side, goading him to turn to the dark,” Zenlin replied. “And Zay nearly went down that path. But he recognized his own actions and rejected the dark side. In doing so, he confronted and defeated his own dark side that resides within him. It's a bit nonstandard, but I think it can count.”

To Palla's surprise, this claim was met with a lot less skepticism; indeed a majority of the Council accepted the claim without argument, and the rest conceded the matter.

“So,” Kash said, “we have general agreement that the five main Trials have been passed. Other aspects of his Knighthood have been discussed here in the past; are there any objections on that front?” A few Council members shook their heads. “Okay then. If you object to Zay Antilles being promoted to a full Jedi Knight immediately, without regular Trials, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Palla shifted her eyes from one Council member to the next, watching each of them in turn. None made any move to speak.

“Then it is done,” said the Grand Master. “I will initiate preparations for Zay's Knighthood ceremony tonight.”

---

IC: Zay Antilles
Location: High Council Chambers
Time: Two days later

OOC: Start the video at 0:58 and end at 1:35.


Padawan Zay Antilles walked into the darkened room and took a position in the center of the room. As the door closed, twelve lightsabers ignited simultaneously, held upright by the eleven remaining members of the Council, plus, Zay noted, Palla herself, who, no longer needing crutches, stood on her own two feet three spots to the right of Grand Master Kash Skywalker, temporarily filling in for the deceased Esli Corsh.

Zay looked at each of the twelve Masters in the room—yes, that included Palla, who would be promoted to Master soon, having successfully trained Zay to Knighthood—and silently acknowledged each one before fixing his eyes on the Grand Master, who spoke.

“Step forward, Padawan.”

Zay did so, taking two steps forward, then dropping to one knee before his friend. Kash lifted his lightsaber; simultaneously, the other eleven Masters lowered their blades to point at the floor.

“Zay Antilles, by the right...” Kash brought his lightsaber down to where it nearly touched Zay's right shoulder, “...of the Council, by the will...” Kash lifted his lightsaber over Zay's head and lowered it down to just above Zay's left shoulder, “...of the Force, I dub thee...” Kash returned his lightsaber to Zay's right shoulder, “...a Jedi...” Kash snapped his lightsaber up, cleanly cutting off Zay's Padawan braid near the ear, “...Knight of the galaxy.”

Zay stayed where he was for a moment as it sank in, then he stood. Smiling, he looked at Kash and nodded his head, then turned his head to Palla and did the same before reaching down to the floor to retrieve his severed braid.

Without any further words, Jedi Knight Zay Antilles walked out of the Council Chambers. Behind him, Kash and Palla looked at each other, and Palla chuckled. Both of them knew that Zay was just getting started.

TAG: Nobody

 

IC: Setarcos Rhemes
Visiting Owner’s Luxury Box, Mesh’la Vhetin, Keldabe, Mandalore
121st Galactic Cup Final, Monarchs vs. Smugglers

It was a surreal moment for the Monarchs’ General Manager. He was standing there, surrounded by the Monarchs’ senior management staff and their families. His assistant GM, Hris Helios, stood there with his wife and three of their four children, watching their fourth child, Aley Helios, warming up to play.

The three K’ntarrs – Kalin, Arden, and Loruna – had their significant others with them – Thara, Catherine, and Rex, respectively. It had become obvious that the connection between Arden and Catherine was much more than a professional relationship. His heart sunk slightly. He knew that Vesper truly had feelings for the young Baron of Balmorra, but those feelings were no longer reciprocated.

Remus Olappa and his protégé Dia T’ramis were huddled in a corner watching various pieces of game footage. They were using as much time as possible to scout and evaluate potential draft candidates. Setarcos was proud of what his mad scientists of recruitment had accomplished as the bulk of the players on their side of the ball were a direct result of their efforts.

A sudden impact against his shoulder brought his attention back to the room, “Hey Pops, quit daydreaming.”

“I’m not, Erika. I’m thinking.”

“Well… I’ve got a gift for you.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him to face a nearby vidscreen, “Just keep watching.”

Rhemes recognized the unmistakable set of Limmie Tonight, “Erika, I like LT just as much as the next guy, but do you really think that right now… WHAT THE KARK WAS THAT?” Setarcos immediately grasped for the controller to rewind the live feed. Sure enough what he thought he had seen was actually what he saw. “Erika, are you responsible…”

“Uh huh.”

“Was that from our old…”

“Yup,” the young Bakuran reporter cracked a big grin, “I might have made a couple of calls and reminded some of the interns of your former deal. And during those calls I may have suggested that it would be unwise to renege on someone that was well connected.”

“I’ve… never… been prouder,” he wrapped his arms around his daughter and laughed as they rewatched several HSN interns streaking through the set.

“So where’s that cute, brooding co-pilot that you haven’t been able to keep your eyes off of?”

“Aria? Hardly. Besides, she decided that the ship was more important than watching a Galactic Cup Final,” he turned his attention to the other occupants in the room, Nicholas Arden and his mystery woman. “So are you going to introduce me to your cousin’s girlfriend?”

The mysterious red-head turned her attention to the General Manager, “Well Mr. Rhemes, to begin with, I’m not Lord Nicholas’s girlfriend,” she looked up from her drink and locked her emerald eyes upon him, “and the name is Raudona… Talia Raudona.”

---

IC: Romo Benedict Crowley III
Visitor’s Bench, Mesh’la Vhetin, Keldabe, Mandalore
121st Galactic Cup Final, Monarchs vs. Smugglers

In the driving sleet, just after pregame warm ups and just before kickoff, Romo told Michelle to huddle up the team. Without removing his sleet streaked sunglasses, he started to talk in a low voice. “You all know that I am not one for inspirational speeches. ‘Win one for the Skipper’ and ‘It’s not whether you win or lose, it’s how you play the game’ are all things we heard when we played Little League and Juniors. This… This is the Galactic Cup Final. This is the place where dynasties are born and legends are destroyed.

“When you pulled on that jersey tonight, you made a commitment. A commitment to not only yourself but to your teammates. A commitment that the name on the front of your jersey is a helluva lot more important than the one on the back! All-star teams fail because they rely solely on the individual's talent. We win because we take that talent and use it inside a system that's designed for the betterment of the team.

“You know, in all the years that I coached, I never met anybody who wanted to win as badly as I did. I'd do anything I had to do to increase my advantage. Anybody who tried to block the pursuit of that advantage, I'd just push 'em out of the way. Didn't matter who they were, or what they were doing. But that was then. You have special talent, a gift. Not the planet's, not the people’s, not the team's, not Setarcos Rhemes', not mine. It's yours, to do with what you choose. Because that's what I believe, I can tell you this: I don't care if you win or not.”

He paused for a moment and looked up into the stands. Scanning them his eyes fell upon the Smugglers across the way.

“Forget about the crowd, the size of their team, their fancy uniforms and remember what got you here. Focus on the fundamentals that we’ve gone over, time and time again. And most important don’t get caught up thinking about winning or losing this game. If you put your effort and concentration into playing to your potential, to be the best that you can be, I don't care what the scoreboard says at the end of the game, in my book we're gonna be winners. Okay? Alright! Let’s go! Let me hear it!”

That’s when Vesper took her spot in the middle of the huddle and started:

Vesper: 1; Team: 2
Vesper: Win; Team: For You
Vesper: 3; Team: 4
Vesper: Win; Team: Some More
Vesper: 5; Team: 6
Vesper: Win; Team: Again
Vesper: 7; Team: 8
Vesper: Win; Team: Great
Vesper: 9; Team: 10
Vesper: Win; Team: Again
All: Again, Again, Again, Again!

And with a mighty war cry the Monarchs charged out to the field to play for the Galactic Cup for the first time in team history.

TAG: Trieste & Vehn

 

HSN Afternoon Headlines

• Lightning ownership reportedly organizing for a “comeback season”
• Martin Vigo announces that he will oversee the construction of a new Stadium for the Starkillers to be completed by the start of the '79 season. It will be built adjacent to the current site making for limited speeder parking for the next two seasons all ticket holders are encouraged to take public transport
• Stadium name to be determined dependent on the highest corporate bidder

TAG: Rebecca_Daniels Runjedirun

 

IC: Falene Trieste
Miner offices, Salis D’aar, Bakura
Three months and two days after the conclusion of the 276 season

(Music, containing one or two no-no words, found here.)

Falene bit her lip nervously as she looked at the crowd milling about in the largest conference room that they could muster in the conference room. Gathered there were all of her teammates, the front office staff, her head coach and staff, the training staff, all the scouts that could be gotten into town on short notice, and the Smug Dragon himself. They were friends, peers, beings who made the team able to play like it did for nine grueling weeks of the year.

Now they were none of that. They were all employees. That was why Falene had called them together from their offseason.

“Okay…looks like everyone’s here,” Falene said, calling for attention, “Let’s begin.” The room quieted down and all eyes turned on her. “Thanks for coming. I know this was very sudden, but you’ve probably all heard the news—”

“That you’re the new boss?” Max Grap called out.

“Well, yeah. I’m the new Taoiseach of the Noble House of Trieste and that means that I control the ownership shares of the Miners,” Falene said.

“Does that mean I ask you about getting a raise?” Zonko Lyriss called out.

“Look, I know this is hilarious,” Falene said, “but I’ve got something to say, okay? Can we just all hold on for a moment?”

“If I say no, will you fire me?” Ponie asked.

“Knock it off,” Valerii growled from the back of the room, “Fae’s got something to say and yeah, she does sign your checks so it would behoove you to shut up and listen.”

Falene gave the head coach an appreciative look. “Well, this has kind of made my point. Ever since I found out I was Taoiseach, I’ve really only thought about one thing, and that’s that this isn’t going to work with me owning the Miners and playing for them.”

“What?” Nelly Wizmark exclaimed, “You’re quitting the team?”

“No no no,” Falene said quickly, “That’s not it at all—”

“You’re selling the Miners?” Niskat shouted in disbelief.

“No! Everybody don’t say anything!” Falene said, “I’m not quitting and I’m not selling the Miners! I won’t be able to play if I’m dealing with all the administrative stuff that comes with running a team and you all can’t play if you’re always thinking about what it means to be on the pitch with your boss.

“That’s why I’m appointing my Aunt Regan, effective immediately, Chairwoman of the Miners,” Falene said. She motioned to the side of the room and all the eyes turned to look at the Bakuran Supreme Court Justice.



“Hello everyone,” Regan Eldred said with a smile.

“She’s well qualified. My mother had her in the same role during the Civil War and we won a Galactic Cup under her leadership in 259,” Falene said.

“Remember that, Gaeriel?” Regan asked the head coach.

“How could I forget?” Gaeriel replied.

“We’ve worked out an agreement where I will not interfere with any of Regan’s decision of Chairwoman. She’ll have total control of the team. At the end of each season, and only then,” Falene stressed, “she and I will discuss the coming season. That way I’m still just a player on the team and not the boss. Nobody can come to me and ask for any special favors or anything like that. The course will stay steady this way.”

“What’s to say that she doesn’t just fire all of us?” Becki Morlan asked, “Uh…no offense, your honor.”

“It’s actually Justice Eldred, if you want to be specific,” Regan said, “and my reply to you is this: what was to say that my sister didn’t just fire all of you?” She let that sit in. “Look, you’ve always got to trust someone and right now it’s me. What I’ll say is that I’ve been watching Miners limmie my entire life and I know a good squad when I see one. I have no intention of blowing up the roster. I’ll be sitting down with Quinn—we have a good working relationship as I’ve assisted in some legal matters for the team in the past—to determine where we go from here. I’ve got some ideas, but we have a general manager for a reason and I’m inclined to trust his judgment.”

“If I can just wrap things up,” Falene said, “basically nothing’s changing. I’m still just a player and the Triestes still own the team. So you can all rest easy this offseason until we get to training camp.”

“Yeah…about training camp,” Alana Glencross said.

That was when Falene realized that the captain’s red hair had been missing from the start of the meeting. Everyone turned to look at the captain, who was standing in the doorway.

“Hi—sorry I was late,” Alana said, “But training camp—yeah…I’m going to have to ask to be excused for part of that.”

“You know camp is mandatory,” Valerii said, “even for the captain.”

“Training camp’s in like five months or so?” Alana said.

“Yeah, about that,” Cuth Hulu said.

“So…I’d really like to go…but unfortunately there’s someone else who has a say in this,” Alana said, “And he or she is not going to be very appreciative of getting tackled.”

The room was silent as everyone’s eyes drifted to Alana’s abdomen.

“Oh frak,” Jolla Pic said.

TAG: None, but I’m sure people will enjoy making Easy A puns now

 

Sub-Sub-GM Post
276 Premier League Limmie

Final Standings
Northern Galactic Conference
1. Mon Calamari Mariners (6-3)
2. Toprawa Torpedoes (6-3)
3. Empress Teta Pikemen (5-4)
4. Kessel Runners (5-4)
5. Sabilon Skookumchucks (5-4)
6. Ord Mantell Scrappers (5-4)
7. Balmorra Blasters (4-5)
8. Shilli Suncrushers (4-5)
9. Onderon Crazy Dragons (4-5)
10.Alsaken Flyers (1-8)

Southern Galactic Conference
1. Ryloth Rough Riders (7-2)
2. Fondor Freedom (6-3)
3. Vandelhelm Jets (5-4)
4. Stewjon Metropolitans (5-4)
5. Kuat Triforce (4-5)
6. Trantor Mules (4-5)
7. Kamino Waves (4-5)
8. Naboo Ducks (4-5)
9. Bison Sabres (4-5)
10.Genet Vornskrs (2-7)

Premiership Finals
Conference Semi-Finals
Northern Galactic
(4) Kessel Runners at (1) Mon Calamari Mariners (9-32)
(3) Empress Teta Pikemen at (2) Toprawa Torpedoes (33-36)

Southern Galactic
(4) Stewjon Metropolitans at (1) Ryloth Rough Riders (8-9)
(3) Vandelhelm Jets at (2) Fondor Freedom (13-12)

Conference Championship
Northern Galactic
(2) Toprawa Torpedoes at (1) Mon Calamari Mariners (33-30)

Southern Galactic
(3) Vandelhelm Jets at (1) Ryloth Rough Riders (19-6)

Premiership
(3) Vandelhelm Jets at (2) Toprawa Torpedoes (4-36)

Congratulations to the Toprawa Torpedoes, the 276 Premiership of Limmie Champions!

 

Sub-GM Post

Bonus rolls this week to (points in parentheses): Thyferra (32), Tatooine (30), Byblos (28), Concordia (28), Druckenwell (28), Commenor (28).

Limmie Futures League
Championship Week
Zygian Savings and Loan Seventh Place Game
(8) Kashyyyk Rangers at (7) Garqi Gunners (10–8)
Ardees Beverage Fifth Place Game
(6) Thyferra Force at (5) Tatooine Sandskimmers (14–13)
SoroSuub Third Place Game
(4) Byblos Red Wings at (2) Concordia Crusaders (27–16)
Futures Cup Final, presented by Gundarkade
Mesh'la Vhetin, Keldabe, Mandalore
(3) Druckenwell Marksmen vs. (1) Commenor Gundarks (23–2)

Congratulations to the Druckenwell Marksmen, 276 Limmie Futures Cup Champions!

TAG: Jedi Gunny Bardan_Jusik Vehn Runjedirun Tim Battershell CPL_Macja

 

GM Post

Every season I say the conference finals are my favorite week of limmie.

Not this season.

This has been a heck of a Final week and rightly deserved bonus rolls to Nar Shaddaa and Rydonni Prime for it.

Banked bonus rolls to Bakura, Coruscant, Euceron, Mando'ade, and Ralltiir for 277.

121st Galactic Cup Final
Mesh’la Vhetin, Keldabe, Mandalore
(2) Rydonni Prime Monarchs vs. (1) Nar Shaddaa Smugglers (4-11)

Congratulations to the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers, the 276 Galactic Cup Champions! A clearly hard fought Final this year. Numifolis Award winner will be forthcoming.

TAG: CPL_Macja Vehn

---

This concludes the 276 Elite League Limmie season.

Expect the opening post for 277 on Tuesday. You won't want to miss it.

 

​

Meshla'Vhetin, Keldabe, Mandalore​

121st Galactic Cup Final​

Monarchs 4, Smugglers 11​

IC: The 276 Nar Shaddaa Smugglers

The dark waltz had begun.

The deadliest duel in the sporting galaxy had just started with the Monarchs receiving the opening kickoff in an environment that screamed inhospitable, intolerable, and potentially very dangerous as injuries were more likely to occur due to sliding on the rain-soaked pitch. The threat of injuries didn’t hold either team back as they scrummed at midfield in fast, razor-like jabs, each side pushing, shoving, hitting as hard as they possibly could to gain an advantage against the other and put up points in what was shaping up to be a close contest for the ages.

The crowd loved the game. They roared with sickening delight at every hard hit, at every player that shook off the after-effects of a ringer, of every potential penalty that the referees looked the other way on. Finally a Final played in adverse conditions. Here they could see a true test of which squad was better prepared for the outdoor weather, for the heavy rains of Keldabe, Mandalore. Pre-game strategies were gone. Now it was a purely physical contest. A race toward the finish line and to sporting immortality.

The Monarchs scored first on a botched defensive play by Bree Tarth and Mira Kashvili. Jayla Leed watched helplessly as the bolo sailed over her rain drenched head. The Monarch contingent roared in delight as they scored first blood. Leed wiped the water off her face and punted the bolo to mid-field where Reaver leaped high, caught the ball with her chest, and came down pivoting as she skillfully side-stepped a low tackle by Cali Royd. She had a narrow window to fire a quick pass to McCloud who powered the bolo with her feet past Lana Ping and Aley Helios. She put on the brakes, narrowly avoiding a fierce hit by Cora Xux, leaving her one on one with Abe Cynour, the man formerly known as Galaxy Defender.

Left, right, McCloud put out all her moves on the sloppy field and Abe tracked her all the way. The Salbukk Award winner going up against the man who had been narrowly defeated a few days ago for the Comeback Player of the Year award. Mylessa barely suppressed a smile as she spotted a hitch in Abe’s game, the two in a deadly duel for points, for respect, for their fans honor and it was McCloud who pulled the trigger on a play that Abe couldn’t possibly comeback for or recover from. She faked high, aimed low, and fired a heater right between his legs that sizzled into the net for three.

The Smuggler crowd roared, hugged one another, celebrated as the team took a 3-1 lead. McCloud raised a finger in the air, ignoring the rain, ignoring the booing Monarch contingent, watched with pride as Micjaa fist-pumped hard in the air. Minutes later the Monarchs responded with what would be their last points of the game, a heater sent in by Vesper Lynd past the muddy gloved fingers of Jayla Leed for three.

At the half the game was 4-3, Monarchs.

---

Kaitlyn couldn’t sit down as she looked frantically up at the clock. There was still an entire half to play and so far she had yet to see her team break out and put up the points that had come to define their season. This game was far too close for her liking, far too close, and now the Monarchs had the momentum heading down the home stretch. With the conditions on the field worsening by the minute, with the mud and water pooling it wasn’t looking very promising for the Smugglers who typically didn’t have to play in such adverse conditions.

“For someone who bought a team without caring a thing for the sport of Elite League Limmie, you sure are into this,” Verity observed as she sipped a drink.

Kaitlyn laughed and replied, “I’ve changed a lot. Nar Shaddaa grew on me, Verity, and you selling me the team was the best thing that ever happened to me. I needed this team. I needed the Vertical City.”

Verity gave a wistful smile. Somehow, someway, she knew that all along back three years ago when she’d first proposed the idea.

The game resumed with a Smuggler possession. The Monarch defense wasn’t having any tricks today. They were refusing to bend, refusing to break, both sides giving their all in a contest that reflected how badly both franchises wanted to win. One was looking for their first title and the other was looking to make history with a record 10th.

---

Lars Steelhead, wearing his famous orange shirt that said, Blasters Don’t Kill People, I Kill People, had bought tickets to the game and now sat with the rain pouring down his yellow construction helmet. The nail in his head was really hurting today in the inclement weather and he remembered a promise he once made to his friend Reggie that if the Smugglers won the championship today he would have the nail surgically removed in homage to the team that he bled burgundy and black for.

“This game should be over by now,” Reggie grumbled through chattering teeth.

“No, Reg, this game is a marathon. The side that will win today is going to be the one that makes the least amount of mistakes. This game is going to hinge on one play. And one play alone,” Lars observed as he ignored the rain, the chill, and the sorry excuse for beer that the Mandalorians served on their miserable planet.

---

That game changing play came late in the second half. There was Vesper Lynd driving hard down the pitch, her jet black, rain-soaked hair, flying all around her as if she herself were the harbinger of a tempest. Lynd, the Bakuran hero and a Trieste by blood, dodged Tarth, juked Keisel, stiff-armed Zetter, kicked out at Tullo, and upper-cutted Nexrus for a chance to seal the game against Leed. She was on fire today. She was the one thing keeping the Monarch offense in the game. She was a one-woman show.

She proved why she was the Duchess Eldrin Award winner with her domination of the tired Smuggler defense. She was showing them all about sportsmanship today with bone-crushing hits. Nobody was going to ever say again that she played nice. She was motivated, she was driven, and now she had Jayla Leed directly in her sights.

Leed tensed, flexed, read every movement by Vesper, knew she was alone, knew she wouldn’t have any help. There wasn’t much time in regulation and the game was still knotted up at 4-3. She had to stop Vesper. She had to stop Vesper in all her beauty, in all her rage, now was the time. She reflected on Micjaa’s speech before the game. How she could feel his heart-ache at losing to Alsaken 13 years ago in a game that went down to the wire. Now, once more, everything the Smugglers played for would come down to this.

Vesper tried to fake but Leed had taken a page right out of Vesper’s book. Film-study was an amazing tool if used properly. Jayla didn’t bite. That threw Vesper off of her game, broke her concentration, and she fatally hesitated. Jayla remembered what Meredith had told her during many a session of training camp. “I was a good goalie because I knew when to defend as well as when to attack. When you see your opponent hesitate, when you see them flinch, when you see them doubt, strike hard, strike without mercy, and 9 times out of 10 you will win your match-up.”

Now was the time to strike. Now was the time to shift the momentum of the game. Now was the time to make up for Micjaa’s loss 13 years ago. Now was the time to send the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers into post-season history.

It was time.

Jayla struck and she struck hard. Vesper had no idea what happened as she went flying backward into the muddy turf, ball loose, Monarch contingent screaming for a penalty, screaming for retribution, something, anything, but the referees wouldn’t bite. They wanted a close contest. They wanted to look the other way. This was the Final for crying out loud not some pee-wee junior Limmie game. Leed scooped up the ball and punted it deep into the Smuggler’s offensive zone. Lereoux made an easy catch and fired one past Cynour for three. Smugglers 6, Monarchs 4.

The Monarchs got the ball back and continued a hard push into Smuggler territory. They were angry as if someone had kicked the proverbial hornet’s nest. They refused to go down without a fight as they surged into the Smuggler backfield. But nothing they could do today was going to make a dent in the suddenly stout Smuggler back six. Nexrus made a block, Zetter a deflection, Tarth used her lanky form to confuse the Monarch offense while Kashvili and Tullo placed some questionable hits on the Monarch forward tandem of Shae Bellweather and Winnifred Aptos.

“Lock them down, lock them down!” Meredith barked from the sideline.

Somehow, through the driving rain, Leed heard the command. She relayed it to the defense who continued to smother the Monarchs every time they surged forward, through the mud, through the incessant rain, through the jeers of the Mandalorian faithful, the Rydonni Prime faithful, the hostile crowd hoping to see the defeat of the burgundy and black. Time was nearly gone. And with it went the Monarchs season as interceptions were thrown, picked off by Reaver and a hungry Smuggler backfield. The Smugglers capitalized on mistakes by responding with a quick succession of points by Lerouex, and then McCloud, with a one pointer thrown in by Gargova Brousard. The Smugglers were leading by seven putting their total points at 11.

The stadium collectively held its breath as time continued to disappear off the clock. The end was near. Everyone could feel it. One season was ending and soon new champions would be crowned.

Ten seconds. Erin Windreaver flicks a pass to Mylessa McCloud.

Nine seconds. McCloud plays keep-way from the Monarch defense.

Eight seconds. Heated exchanges occur between a very tired Smuggler offense and an equally tired Monarch defense. Some shoving and fighting.

Seven seconds: Raucous cheering by the Nar Shaddaa Smuggler fans led by Lars Steelhead. A personal promise fulfilled.

Six seconds. The Rydonni Prime Monarchs refuse to go quietly into the evening and kick the ball out of McCloud’s hands to midfield.

Five seconds. A rough and tumble scramble for the bolo-ball ensues as the Smugglers play loose in anticipation of a victory.

Four seconds. One final scrum at midfield, Vesper Lynd fighting hard for the bolo-ball. She recovers the ball for her team.

Three seconds. Kaitlyn Vehn makes her way down to the field in utter disbelief. A dream realized.

Two seconds. Meredith Chambers-Vayne and John Huntington embrace on the sideline. They have been in enough championships to know that it is over.

One second. Vesper Lynd heaves one last pass toward the goal which is gently caught by Jayla Leed to end the game.

The buzzer sounded. The bloody and beaten pitch of the Meshla’Vhetin, the hostile territory of the enemies of the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers, was tamed.

Smugglers 11, Monarchs 4.

---

IC: Kaitlyn Vehn

She was in disbelief. She was in utter shock. The moment she had been dreaming about for nearly three years was finally a reality. There could be no mistaking it, the franchise she had rebuilt, the franchise that she had personally assembled, from the staff on down to the players, had pulled off the greatest victory of her life. Soon she would be holding the Galactic Cup trophy high above her head in triumph.

A loud explosion above her rattled throughout the stadium as burgundy and black ticker tape blocked out the overcast skies, blocked out the rain, as Smuggler fans and players alike were drenched in the colors that ran as thick as blood on the Vertical City. Nobody had given her a chance when she’d taken over the team three years ago. She was a deposed leader, she was a failure, and yet she had perservered to assemble one of the greatest coaching staffs the galaxy had ever seen, to draft elite talent such as Mylessa McCloud and Erin Windreaver, to build a new stadium, create new uniforms, all of it done in an effort, in a singular push, to put the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers on the greatest stage of them all.

Mission accomplished.

Kaitlyn watched the defeated Monarch players embrace their Smuggler counterparts. Despite the hard fought match, both teams respected one another tremendously and a victory over a franchise that had never won the big one wasn’t something Vehn was going to gloat over. After all, a few bounces here and there, and the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers could’ve been the ones walking home in defeat. She walked over to Vesper Lynd who appeared pretty disappointed about the loss and embraced her.

“You played one hell of a game, Vesper. The galaxy hasn’t seen the end of your talents by any means,” Kaitlyn whispered in her ear.

She then shook hands with Setarcos Rhemes. Vehn didn’t know him that well. In fact, she’d spoken to him so rarely that she was surprised to see that he was a fairly good looking man. “Your franchise is something to be proud of, Setarcos. I know this one hurts but you’ll be back. I know you’ll be back here.”

All around her Smugglers players celebrated. Kaitlyn instinctively looked around for the police because she knew how quickly riots could develop when Nar Shaddaa won something as monumental as a Galactic Cup. She laughed as Tover Micjaa was dunked in Gundarkade by McCloud and Reaver. She could hear Tover yelling, “Get this monkey off my back, get this monkey off my back!” A jab at all those critics who doubted that he could win the big one after coming out of retirement and now those critics were silenced. Not a word would be written down that suggested that Tover Micjaa was a brilliant but ultimately unsuccessful coach. The Hall of Famer was rightly enjoying his time in the spotlight. He’d earned his place in the Hall of Heroes at Six Boroughs.

Meredith Chambers-Vayne and John Huntington were exchanging hugs and congratulations one another on a job well done. Kaitlyn felt a twinge of sadness as she looked at Meredith. She would be moving on to Hapes next year. At least, however, she’d delivered for Kaitlyn by helping secure a record 10th Galactic Cup for the franchise. This one would go on Chambers already impressive resume as title number four. She would be missed.

John Huntington had come to the team in ’67 as an aging veteran signed from the Chandrila Patriots. He helped the Smugglers in a title that year and then promptly retired shortly thereafter. His offensive schemes this year had maximized the roster talent at his disposal and he could have had any pick of ELL head coaching openings but instead chose to decline and remain with the Smugglers. So far, it appeared as if he would return next season, Kaitlyn hoped he would.

Kaitlyn felt herself tackled by her son Jack, embraced hard by Lilly, as her family guided her down the aisle toward the dais that would be where the Galactic Cup trophy was presented. On either side of the aisle was the squad that she had assembled. Brousard, McCloud, Windreaver, Tullo, Zetter, Keisel, Leed, Tarth, Kashvili, all of them shook hands with her and said in that tone of respect, that tone of love, “Miss Vehn.”

Kaitlyn made her way to the stage, the Smuggler faithful roaring so loud it was deafening, ear-shattering, joyous. She spotted Lars Steelhead waving to her, towering over the rest of ‘The Crew’. He gave her a big thumbs up. Tover joined her on the stage as did Jack, Lilly, Meredith, and John. The crowd below her parted as Kaitlyn caught sight of something surreal, something so familiar, and yet so foreign, the Galactic Cup of Limmie, being carried by none other than the woman she had once tried to depose, Niakara Kayl’hen. All of the Smugglers players touched the trophy, some kissed its silver exterior, others simply screamed in delight.

"The Galactic Cup of Limmie is the greatest athletic trophy in the galaxy. Today, we have seen two teams, both of which had fantastic seasons, duke it out in one of the best Finals in recent memory for the privilege of having their names inscribed on the Cup. I'd like to congratulate the Rydonni Prime Monarchs on a fantastic season."

The Smuggler fans roared in honor of their defeated foes. The few Monarch fans that remained in the stands clapped approvingly.

"Three years ago, a new era began in the Vertical City. A new sheriff came to town and she had one goal: to make this great franchise a champion again. Her plan was simple: assemble a great coaching staff that knew its stuff and lead by example, taking the reins in the front office, building a team with one goal in mind: to win the Galactic Cup. There were ups and there were downs, but today, after just three years, the Smuggers have triumphed and they have reached the mountaintop," Kayl'hen said,
"Congratulations to Kaitlyn Vehn, Tover Micjaa, John Huntington, and Meredith Chambers-Vayne putting together a fantastic team. Now, Jayla Leed come over here and get the Galactic Cup."

The Smugglers' captain came over and posed for a moment accepting the Cup from Kayl'hen, who then gave a smile and a nod to her.

Jayla held the trophy up high and squealed in delight. What a moment for her. A phenomenal performance in the playoffs, a stunning stop in the Final game against the Monarchs and she had earned every credit of her contract this year. She’d started her professional career with the Thyferra Force, moved up to the Coruscant Senators, and now stood as a champion with the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers. She was proud now to wear the burgundy and black, proud to be a member of this storied franchise that had seen something in her and pulled the trigger. Something special. She had been named the Numifolis Award winner for the playoffs and had every reason to smile tonight.

“I wanted to thank the fans, you’ve been great all year,” Jayla began as ‘The Crew’ hooted and hollered, “but most of all I wanted to thank Miss Vehn for believing in me and giving me a chance. I’ll admit I wasn’t too enthusiastic playing for a rival,” that drew a few laughs, “but I’ve grown to love the Vertical City, love this franchise, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. People had written me off on Coruscant. People had discarded me like yesterday’s news but the Smugglers believed in me all the way. I told them when I signed that I would do great things for this organization, well, Nar Shaddaa, here we are! Thanks to my defensive coordinator, Hall of Famer, Meredith Chambers-Vayne. She’s one of a kind and the best to learn the goalkeeper position from. I hope one day to be as great of a person as she is. Thank you.”

Jayla turned and offered the trophy to Kaitlyn Vehn.

Kaitlyn examined the Galactic Cup trophy that she had coveted for so long, nearly afraid to touch it, to hold it, to raise it high above her head like she’d imagined all of these years. Today was truly a dream come true. She gently took the trophy from Leed’s grasp. It felt heavier than she had ever expected. She looked longingly at its smooth surface, reflected on the teams that had come before, saw last year’s entry, the Bakura Miners engraved on its exterior. Now the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers would be joining them in the halls of eternity. She found the Smugglers teams of years past. Of 228, 230, 239, 249, 261, 267, 270, and now, adding to that storied history, 276.

Kaitlyn wanted to collapse, and would have, were there not a railing that surrounded the stage. She fought back tears as she looked over at her coaching staff, then her players, and then the Smuggler faithful. Everyone was ready. She was ready.

Now was the moment.

It was time.

Kaitlyn Vehn, a former leader of the Roon Trade Organization, a pariah to some in the Elite League, a woman with ambition who had remade the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers in her own image, once paralyzed from the waist down, healed and resurrected, lifted the Galactic Cup trophy high above her head, holocameras going off like crazy.

“Nar Shaddaa, this one is for you!” Kaitlyn roared in victory. “This one is for you!”

“Vehn! Vehn! Vehn!” The crowd screamed in delight.

Kaitlyn Vehn was all smiles now as she stood atop the stage. She had reached the pinnacle of success. Her goal had been achieved far quicker than she could have ever possibly imagined. She owed so much to Tover Micjaa, to her coaching staff, to her players, and most of all, to her fans who believed in her when the rest of the galaxy did not. She was victorious on the greatest battlefield of them all. What a great day. Slowly, carefully, she lowered the trophy to her coaching staff.

Both Meredith Chambers-Vayne and John Huntington briefly embraced the trophy, neither of them wanting to take time away from the man who truly deserved a moment with the silver chalice, Tover Micjaa.

“I retired from the game 12 years ago. I never thought I would see this trophy again. I never thought I would stand here before the entire galaxy and witness Nar Shaddaa taking home a record 10th Galactic Cup. Never in a million years did I think that I would play a hand in helping Nar Shaddaa take home three of their last five. I am so honored to have come back to this wonderful organization, to our fans, to have coached this team, but I would be nothing without Kaitlyn Vehn backing me the entire way. I’ll end with a promise that I made to her. I kept my word, Miss Vehn. I kept my word that I would bring you the Galactic Cup! We did it! We did it!” Tover yelled as he held the Galactic Cup trophy up high for all to see.

Kaitlyn laughed and posed for the holocameras with her coaching staff, with her dream team. They’d done it, all right. Nothing could take that away from them. The 276 Nar Shaddaa Smugglers were now eternal. They had done something special this year that had never been done before. They had won a record 10th Galactic Cup. A few minutes later the team assembled on the pitch in their muddy, rain-soaked uniforms for a group holo, Galactic Cup trophy in the center of it all, there was still one thing left to do, one last thing.

Kaitlyn pulled Jack onto her lap, wrapped Lilly in close next to her, and said, “I wouldn’t have made it this far, done as much, nor grown as much, were it not without my family by my side. This trophy, today, is really for you.”

When people went to visit the Limmie Hall of Fame on Empress Teta, when they found the holos of the teams that had won the Galactic Cup trophy, they would for years reflect on one burning image that stood out above the rest in the section dedicated to the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers. One holo that said so much about an owner who had once loathed the sport, loathed the Vertical City, and slowly found her soul transformed by the allure and the mystique of the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers franchise. That holo, taken that evening after the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers won, showed Kaitlyn Vehn at the happiest moment of her life holding her family tightly to her, united as they always should have been celebrating the greatest victory of them all.

The victory of love and of family.​

​

​

​

Tag: CPL_Macja;Trieste, and anyone else who is interested. ​

OOC: I wanted to take this moment to recognize the perseverance, so to speak, of those players who have not won a Final. You guys, and gals, are the ones that really should be commended for sticking with a game that is as random as it is entertaining. I hope that each and every one of you will be putting up your own Final post in the seasons to come. In my mind, we're all champions. Thank you. ​

 

GM Post

HSN Morning Headlines

• Two-time Galactic Cup champion Nanchecka Stormborn of the Miners announces her retirement from limmie. “It’s been a thrill, but it’s time for me to settle down.”
• Keli Sen of the Starkillers retires. She is reportedly exploring coaching positions
• Alana Glencross (MF, Miners) to sit out majority of training camp due to maternity leave
• Regan Eldred, Bakruan Supreme Court Justice, to serve as Chairwoman of the Miners in Falene Trieste's (CHB) place

TAG: Runjedirun

 

IC: Falene Trieste
Lynd family box, Mesh’la Vhetin, Keldabe, Mandalore

Falene could only sit there and watch as the events of the Final unfolded before her. One year ago she had been part of the great drama that unfolded before the entire galaxy, her actions directly affecting the outcome of the game as her cousin had perched above, watching. Now the situation was reversed.

Cousin Vesper was doing everything she could, but the Nar Shaddaa defense was allowing next to nothing through. Vesper was coming closest of anyone in Monarch colors to breaking through—but, with the exception of one spectacular score, the Smugglers were taking her out of the equation. All credit to Jayla Leed, a player who had rightly been among the nominees for Comeback Player of the Year (though, to Falene’s mind she wasn’t sure why that award couldn’t be folded into the Zumtak—wasn’t coming back just another form of persevering?), who was the rock on which the burgundy and black defense was built. Falene wondered what Gark S’rily thought of his former goalkeeper now.

The mood in the Lynd box was tense, to say the least. They had been on the edge of their seats in the first half, but as the second half progressed and the Smugglers began to control the momentum—not much, just a little bit more—the box could sense it. Dread started to fall over the Rydonni Prime contingent. Aunt Siona, usually gregarious during a game, was eerily silent as she watched the formations ebb and flow across the field, adjusting to each other and counterattacking.

It was nothing like the Final that Falene had played in last year. She and the Miners had made the Rebels look like a JV team out there. This year there was none of that. Both teams were at the height of their ability. It was a game of inches. The barest of swings could throw the game the other way—but the Monarchs just weren’t getting that swing.

When it was all said and done, when the sky went burgundy and black in celebration, the Lynd box was quiet. Falene could feel the unspoken ache in the room. So close, and yet so far. The room was drained of energy as surely as if the steady rain had drowned it out. Falene put her hand on her Uncle Dorian’s shoulder.

“I had hoped that Vesper and I would share another bond now,” she said.

He nodded, but said nothing. Falene knew that letting words flow might uncork other emotions and she understood why he said nothing. Ginnifer had left her seat and was standing in the corner, unable to watch as the celebrations unfolded. Falene suspected she was crying. Grandmother Lynd sat ramrod straight in her seat, looking down at her nose with an air of disdain at the Smugglers and their festivities—though something about her manner made it seem like they were more frivolities in her opinion. Cillian was slumped in his seat, resting a cheek against a fist, glumly. Falene’s eyes happened upon his friend, Rickard, the man with only half a natural face. She looked at his one good eye and he looked back, the other eye dead in its mask, a mere pretense. Falene believed that he was all too familiar with the incompleteness that the Lynds felt right now.

“I’ll be going now,” Falene said quietly. She figured it was best to let the Lynds have their moment together and she stepped out of the box quietly.

Pulling on a jacket against the cold, Falene headed for the lifts. Mandalorians of all sizes and colors passed her by, many of them giving her a nod in response to the Monarchs t-shirt she was wearing and visible thanks to her jacket’s half open zipper. She wondered if any of them recognized her as a member of the reviled Miners or if they saw in her only one more Monarch fan, one of the many with whom they had joined for this day against the Smugglers, unsuccessfully.

Falene was able to jockey her way into one of the lifts to head down to the ground level to catch some kind of transportation back to the spaceport so she could start the journey home. She’d heard the accommodations on Mandalore were…nothing worth sticking around for, to put it nicely. She figured she could just sleep on the flight back to Bakura.

“Hold that door!” a voice called out.

Falene reached out to jab the “door open” button to hold the lift. In slipped a familiar face, one crisscrossed with scars.



“Falene!” May Trieste, daughter of Oisin Trieste and Verity Vehn, said with surprise, “What are you doing here?”

“I was watching with the Lynds,” Falene said, “the bigger question is what you’re doing here. Why aren’t you on the field with your folks?”

“I should really be getting back to Theed,” May said, “I’ve already lost so much instructional time coming out here as it is. I’m going to have to read half a book on the shuttle back just to catch up.”

“You know, this is usually why most people go to medical school when they’re 23, not 19,” Falene pointed out, “You should be getting hammered and partying right now.”

“Like you did?” May asked with full knowledge Falene did nothing of the sort.

“I was an athlete, so no. But we’ll say like Ginnifer.”

“I don’t think Cousin Ginnifer should be anyone’s role model,” May said.

Falene became aware that the background noise in the lift was actually Mandalorian speech. Instinctively, she looked over her shoulder and saw that all the Mandos were looking at her.

“Hi,” Falene said.

“Aruetii, did she call you Falene?” one of the Mandalorians said, “As in the little layari Miner?”

“I…don’t know what that middle word was, but yeah,” Falene said.

The Mandalorians laughed. “We were just saying that you’re lucky that you don’t play the Mercs next year in the regular season. Johnny Meshgeroya would make you look foolish,” another Mandalorian said.

“I don’t seem to recall we looked that badly against him Week 1,” Falene pointed out.

“Haar’chak! She’s got you there,” a third Mandalorian said.

“Johnny will be better as in his second year. He’s acclimating to the game,” the second Mando said.

“Acclimating, acclimating, that’s all you ever say. Are you still acclimating to firing in a straight line because last I checked you couldn’t hit the broad side of a bantha,” a fourth Mandalorian said. The Mandalorians laughed.

“Our little hastaal friend mentioned the name Vehn. She is a kotep aruetii to wander on her own after how her Smugglers defiled Mesh’la Vhetin,” the first Mandalorian said, indicating May.

“Not that it matters, but I’m actually a Miners fan,” May said.

“Equally terrible life choice, but at least you’ve got company,” the Mandalorian said. The lift decelerated and the doors opened. “Here we go, little aruetii. Best get moving before you get trampled. Take a good look at Mesh’la Vhetin before you go—you’ll miss it when you get back to your shoebox stadium.”

Falene looked at the grand concourse of the Mandalorian stadium, thousands of beings stretching as far as they eye could see. “Yeah,” Falene said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back here soon enough.”

The Mandalorians thought that she meant Keldabe. Falene was fine with that. But “here” was also the Galactic Cup Final. Falene had every of intention of coming back—and not in a Monarchs’ t-shirt.
TAG: Bardan_Jusik CPL_Macja Jedi Gunny Vehn

 

Epilogue​

IC: Lars Steelhead
New Vertica Hospital, Nar Shaddaa

“Lars, wake up!” Reggie nudged his good friend.

Lars opened his eyes. He’d been in surgery for much of the morning as the medical staff at New Vertica hospital worked hard to remove the nail that had been in his head. The surgery had gone well though he now had a splitting headache. He’d gotten so used to the nail that when he ran his hand over where the nail used to be all he could feel was empty space and that felt weird, wrong, and foreign.

“Hey man, turn on the Holo, they’ve got the Smugglers victory parade on Channel Six!” Reggie insisted.

Lars grumbled and reached for the controls. The Holo clicked on and Carly Fyres was heading up the broadcast for Vertical City Network. He turned up the volume as he sat up in bed to watch the festivities.

“The victorious Nar Shaddaa Smugglers returned home today from their Final victory against the Rydonni Prime Monarchs on Keldabe, Mandalore,” Fyres started, “and we have the triumphal parade of the team as millions line the streets of Nar Shaddaa to celebrate their team. What a historic day for the Smugglers, 10 Galactic Cup titles, two award winning rookie players, a dream team coaching staff, and an owner who stopped at nothing to secure her ultimate victory. Congratulations, Nar Shaddaa!”

The mood on set was ecstatic and Lars could barely suppress a smile as the Galactic Cup trophy was passed from player to player on their victory parade to Six Boroughs stadium. It seemed a long time ago when the Smugglers had been purchased by Kaitlyn Vehn. It seemed a long time ago when they’d had any reason to believe that their franchise could be great again. The signing of Tover Micjaa, of John Huntington, of Meredith Chambers-Vayne had all seemed a little unreal, a little far-fetched, but even Lars had to admit that looking back Kaitlyn Vehn had possessed a stroke of brilliance that seemed to flood right on down to the fans. Somehow, someway, Vehn had known just what to do to put the team back on track, to make Nar Shaddaa relevant again.

Lars had tears in his eyes as the parade stopped at Six Boroughs and once more that beautiful trophy was displayed in all its glory on the telecast. He never thought he’d live to see the Smugglers take home another Cup, not like this, not like this. He’d grown up watching Rhia Grames coach, Tover Micjaa play, and countless others. Seen good Smuggler teams and seen others fail but in his humble opinion, the 276 squad was the best he’d ever seen take the field, a perfect storm of talent, momentum, and arguably timing. The broadcast went to a commercial break.

“You feeling okay after your surgery?” Reggie asked.

“I made a promise, dear friend, that if the Smugglers won the Cup I would get this nail removed. Well, I never thought it would leave my skull. But it has. I’m glad. I’m thinking about a career change,” Lars said.

“Yeah, doing what?”

“A friend of mine wants me to play an extra in a comedy movie of his. I think its called Happy Gilroy. Some movie about Limmie and this guy who has a temper and tries to save his grandma’s house by playing in the minor leagues. Could be good,” Lars
said.

“Any idea when filming starts?” Reggie asked.

“Two months from now,” Lars replied.

“Oh, good, so you can count,” Reggie teased.

Lars sat up, eyes bulging, and leveled a heavy finger at Reggie, “And you can count on me waiting for you in the parking lot after my stay in the hospital!”

Reggie put his fake right hand on Lars’ shoulder and said, “I know, Lars. I know.”

“You never told me how you lost your hand,” Lars said.

“Was playing Limmie near a swamp back on my home-planet. Ball went into the water and so I go to get it and a damn alligator jumped up and bit my hand off,” Reggie explained.

“Oh my Maker!” Lars cried out, alarmed.

“Don’t you worry, I killed that alligator and have its head hanging from a wall at my house,” Reggie said.

Lars gulped.

“Reg?”

“Yeah?”

“Remind me to never make you mad,” Lars said.

“Sure, Lars, but if you’re ever upset, I want you to think of a happy place. A happy place,” Reggie said.

“A happy place?”

“All in the hips, Lars, all in the hips,” Reggie said as he swung his hips left and right.

Lars laughed.

It was good to have a friend like Reggie.

It was good to be a Nar Shaddaa Smugglers fan.

It was even better to have that nail removed from his head.

---

IC: Kaitlyn Vehn
Six Boroughs Stadium

​

Kaitlyn couldn’t take her eyes away from the Galactic Cup trophy resting gently on her desk at Six Boroughs stadium. All of what had happened over the last few days seemed so surreal. She kept imagining waking up and having the entire experience be a very good dream. Each time that thought entered her mind she’d touch its cool surface, run her hand over the engravings, happy as anyone in the galaxy could possibly be.

What a year it had been. She’d been healed by the Jedi, adopted a daughter, pulled off a successful draft, won a Galactic Cup, and moved into the house that she’d built, Six Boroughs. All was well in her universe. All was very well. There was still one last bit of business to take care of. One last thing before the year wound down to its inevitable conclusion.

“Sit down, Lilly,” Kaitlyn instructed as her adopted daughter took a seat across from her.

“Am I in trouble?” Lilly asked.

Kaitlyn laughed and shook her head, “I wouldn’t be talking to you if you were.”

Lilly chuckled at that one. Kaitlyn was right. Whenever Kaitlyn got quiet that’s when Lilly knew that something was wrong.

“Have you had any luck finding work since graduating from the Valor Foundation?”

Lilly shrugged her shoulders. “Not really. I really don’t want to work in service. Did that a little bit and it really sucks. People treat you like crap and the pay is abysmal.”

“So what would you like to do?”

“I don’t know, something important, something meaningful, something that makes a difference,” Lilly said.

“Such as?”

“Well,” Lilly looked down at her feet and then back up at Kaitlyn, “I really liked it when you took me to the draft last year. That was very cool.”

Kaitlyn raised an eyebrow. “What did you like about the draft in particular, Lilly?”

“You have a very narrow range of time to make a decision that will forever impact the franchise. The way you decisively maneuvered in the first round to secure McCloud and Windreaver, I mean, nobody else had the gumption to do that and look where we are now, Galactic Cup champions,” Lilly explained.

“You find that you operate well under pressure?” Kaitlyn asked.

“I believe I do, yes,” Lilly responded.

“You know of all the staff that I hired, all the Limmie experience I gathered under me, not one of them was decisive enough to steer me in the direction of Mylessa McCloud. You did. You saw something in her that nobody else did. Because of your input, Lilly, you put the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers on the path to a championship. Do you know how much that means to me?”

“I think I have some idea,” Lilly responded.

“You have an eye for assessing talent,” Kaitlyn said. “Would you say that about yourself?”

Lilly didn’t reply right away. She looked over at the Galactic Cup trophy and knew that it would have to be returned to the league soon.

“I got lucky, Kaitlyn, that’s all. Just lucky. Anyone could’ve pulled the trigger on McCloud,” Lilly replied.

Kaitlyn shook her head and responded, “Not anyone. Coruscant would’ve scooped her up in a heart-beat. I’m saying you’re a natural when it comes to scouting talent, Lilly.”

“What are you suggesting?” Lilly asked.

Kaitlyn leaned forward and smiled, “How would you like to join my staff this year as a scout for the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers? You’d be working with Shay Dionne. She’s a hard woman but knows her stuff. Perfect person to train under.”

Lilly’s mouth dropped open. She was 18 years old and was being offered a position with a sporting franchise, a Galactic Cup winning sporting franchise? Un-frakking-believable.

“Well?” Kaitlyn asked.

Lilly, somehow, someway, formed the words, “Yes! Frak yes! I’ll take it!”

Kaitlyn stood and walked around her desk to embrace Lilly.

“Welcome to the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers, Lilly,” Kaitlyn said.

“Glad to be here, boss,” Lilly replied as she squeezed her adopted mother tightly to her.

“See you on Monday. We’ve got a busy week ahead of us. Limmie sleeps for no person!” Kaitlyn insisted.

“I’ll be there, I promise I won’t let you down!” Lilly replied.

“I know,” Kaitlyn said and couldn’t help but smile as she watched Lilly leave.

Kaitlyn stood alone in her office and looked over at the Galactic Cup trophy, her trophy, her victory. Oh, what a year it had been, what a year indeed. She thought of a quote that ran down the Ypres family for generations. Something she would pass on to Lilly one day, something that hung on her office wall.

“One conquers twice who conquers oneself.”​

​

She ran a hand across the Galactic Cup trophy and quietly laughed. She had vanquished her enemies this season, slain them all with one stroke after another. Seen their fields run red with their blood, the stench of defeat. She would return the trophy soon enough, on her terms.

Kaitlyn Vehn in three years had taken the league by storm and as she reflected on her victory, her triumph, she knew that her enemies would not stay vanquished for long. They would all be targeting her now. They would want revenge. They would have their day in the sun. But for now, for this season, Kaitlyn Vehn had arrived, she’d seen, and she’d conquered all.

Oh, the Elite League would hate her now and all Kaitlyn could respond was one simple phrase: “Let them come.”

Tag: No One​

​

OOC: This ends Kaitlyn Vehn's storyline. Thank you for reading.

 

IC: Beskaryc Taab
Meshla Vhetin, Manda'yaim

Taab watched on as the Smugglers completed their historic Galactic Cup victory over the Monarchs. By all rights he should have been angry as they began their celebrations, but he wasn't. Meshgeroya fans around the galaxy had just been treated to game for the ages, and it had happened right here, on his field. He nodded his head in appreciation for what they had done, how far they had come and the hardships they had endured in winning here. Truely the best team of the 276 season had taken home the crown. He appreciated it, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

He left the "commissioner's box" and began to make his way to his own office. there would be an announcement tomorrow that he had to finalize. Besides as host for the game his duties were fairly well discharged at this time. It was time to worry about how to get his team back to the finals, and see them lift the Cup for the first time. He stopped short, cocking his head to the side. Well, that wouldn't really be his problem soon either would it?

A reporter saw him pause, and knowing he was always good for a quote approached him.

"Lord Manda'alor, how do you feel about your most hated rival winning it all here on your home turf?"

Taab wasn't surprised by the question, after all he had just gone through the emotions a few moments ago. He responded tersely, "The best team won, hopefully next season it will be the Mercs..." He trailed off before starting again, his face was hidden behind his T-Visor but there was a gleam in his eye as he decided to preempt his own announcement. "But by next season I'll have no say in that. I've decided to sell the Mando'ade Mercs."

TAG: No one.

 

GM approved:

Name: "G" Valmar
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Affiliation with the team: Equipment Manager
Born: 250 ABY
Team: Ryloth Rough Riders
Appearence:
Bio: Not very much is known about his young life, including what his real name is and who his parents were. As a kid the only family he had was his sister and they had been shipped out to foster homes around the galaxy ranging from Ord Mantell and Hapes to Corellia and Coruscant. The only thing that gave him stability throughout was Limmie. Even though he never stayed in one foster home for more then a few months, the local limmie leagues that he joined when he was in each home gave him the acceptance he always wanted. Also during this time he had to provide for his younger sister who cause "G" to begin stealing. One time when he was 17 and his sister was 15, they were at a home on Ryloth. "G" had just gotten done with practice with the local team in Lassu who had ties to the Ryloth Rough Riders, when he came back to the house and found the windows smashed and the bodies of his current foster parents laying in a pool of blood. After exploring a little more he found his sisters room ransacked. He had run to his window and saw a hooded man carrying his sister over his shoulder. He threw her into a hovercraft and sped off, his sisters screams echoing in the night. The next day it was said that the body of a teenage girl had been found in an alleyway. From that day on "G" vowed to find that man and get justice for his sister. He applied to be an agent with the OUter Rim Investigative Agency and over the years followed many leads involving the hooded man, but the case soon went cold. The year is now 277 ABY and all that happened ten years ago. "G" is now a senior agent and is currently working an undercover assignment as an equipment manager trying to bust a smuggling ring involving the Ryloth Rough Riders, but his thirst for vengeance for his sister still runs deep as ever.

 

IC: “G” Valmar
Staff breakroom, Kala’unn Memorial Stadium, Ryloth

The shots rang out as the sound of breaking glass resounded through the night. The only thing that mattered to “G” at this point though was catching this dark hooded man he was chasing.

Where did it go wrong? He knew it was too good to be true with life being so perfect, being a part of such a good limmie team, and probably the best foster parents he and his sister had had since they were put into the system. The current home they were at had been the longest they’d ever stayed at. A whole four months to be exact. Honestly he had never seen his sister more happy than what she was every time they sat around the table for dinner. Their current foster parents were two middle-aged Twi’leks who had just sent their two sons off into the real world and weren’t ready to give up the feeling of parenthood. They had by far been the nicest couple “G” and his sister had been with and he had actually thought they might have found a permanent home. That’s when the moment that changed his life forever happened.

It had all happened so quickly. Coming home from practice, seeing the windows shattered, the foster parents laying in a pool of blood, seeing his sister being carried away down the street by a hooded man, and then doing something he never imagined himself doing; jumping out the window of his sister’s room three stories from the ground.

The cuts and scrapes he received from the shattered glass slowed him down a bit, but not enough to stop him from chasing the hooded man. Through twists and turns, down dark alleys and down crowded sidewalks in the city, and finally tackling him to the ground in a group of people and aliens in a small marketplace where people had crowded around to see the two men wrestling on the ground.

“G” connected with a right hook to the jaw. He felt a small pop under his knuckles as the blow connected, the other man’s jaw being knocked a bit out of place. The hooded man then returned the favor as he wrestled “G” across the ground bringing him up in a classic sleeper hold. Feeling the blackness begin to creep up on the sides of his vision, “G” struggled to buck the man off his back landing several elbow shots to the man’s gut. One connected a little lower than originally intended, but “G” didn’t care. The hooded man keeled over letting out an obvious sign that he was in substantial pain. Taking that opportunity “G” slid his leg around knocking out from under the man his legs as he fell back onto his tail bone a noticable crack sound resulting afterwards. Seeing that his sister wasn’t with him anymore, “G” let out an unrelenting volley of punch after punch and jab after jab into the mans nose and face.

Seeing the man broken and beaten on the ground “G” stopped and took in his first real look at the man since the chase started. What he saw made “G” want to throw up then and there. Laying in front of him with blood cascading down his face from his broken nose, was the exact same face of his own.

With shock still rising over him, “G” all of a sudden felt someone tapping his shoulder and saying his name. “Geeeeeeee!!!! Geeeee!!! wake up!!!.”

He almost fell out of the chair he was sitting in. Standing before him in the staff breakroom at Kala’unn Memorial Stadium was Sam Y’alic, one of the assistant equipment managers. “You were sleeping and moaning in your sleep again “G”. Thats the third time this week. Everything alright?” He didn’t say it out loud but everything was definitely not alright.

He had joined the Outer Rim Investigative Service 10 years ago starting out as a Probationary agent (Probie for short) and worked his way up the ranks until he was a senior field agent getting his own assignments every other day it seemed like. His methods of getting things done were seen as unconventional by some and celebrated by others. Most of the time they were against regulations and considered to be taboo, but the results he ended up getting 95% of the time didn’t lie. They had gotten him to where he was now as a senior field agent and he wasn’t about to give that up now.

Over his 10 years with the agency he had seen many Directors of the department come and go, with a lot of them seeing how successful “G” was. They had asked him to stand in and be the interim Director a few times when they retired or stepped down, but he refused them every time saying he liked being a field agent. For the majority of the time he had said he only worked alone and didn’t like working with a partner because he feared the guilt that would come along with something possibly happening to them on the job at his fault. Having nothing of it, the current director assigned to “G” 4 months ago a partner named Bensi Klye (See link: http://img1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20120918031841/ncislegend/images/9/90/Vlcsnap-2012-09-18-04h15m59s150.png) which was about the same time he was put on this assignment of trying to bust a rumored Smuggling ring involving Limmie equipment trying to infiltrate the Ryloth Rough Riders Limmie team as an equipment manager.

During the first few weeks of their partnership things were rockier than the Judland Wastes on Tatooine. Klye continuously questioned every move and call that “G” made. One time during the first few weeks of the smuggling operation, “G” had followed a lead tracking down one of the brothers of the possible ring leader. He was holed up in an office building and “G” had set up a team on the perimeter while he and Klye went inside to confront the man. A chase ensued where he got separated from her. Gunshots rang out and he rushed in to find that Klye had shot and killed the suspect even after he had specifically stated he wanted him alive. She later said it was in self defense, which Internal Affairs soon found her story to be legit.

Throw on top of all the problems he had going on at the agency the fact that his nightmares were back. Ever since that fateful night where he lost his sister he had been having several nightmares replaying those events, but with different outcomes almost every time. The past few years they had slowed down, but around the same time he got his partner the dreams began again. This time around though, when he catches up to the hooded man, he kept finding his own face underneath the hood. “G” couldn’t for the lift of him figure out what it meant, but that wasn’t his top priority at the current time.

“G” snapped out of his thoughts and brought it back to reality. He looked up and studied Sam. The huge broad shouldered Bith stood about a foot taller then “G” and his bulbous big black eyes sometimes creeped “G” out. “Yes of course everything’s just fine. Why do you ask?”

The Bith cocked his head like he didn’t understand the question. “I just told you. You were talking in your sleep again. Add onto that every time we get the equipment out for Limmie practice you always end up grabbing the wrong stuff. You sure you are an actual equipment manager?”

This last question would’ve caught any undercover ORIS agent off guard, but not “G”. He had been on this assignment for so long that he was surprised the people hadn’t been questioning him sooner. He got up, grabbed the front of the Bith’s shirt, and pulled him up so close he could feel Sams breath on his face. “Did I ask for you to question me?!?” The Bith just stared at him with a blank look. “I said did I ask for you to question me?!?” The Bith once again just stood there. Losing his patience very quickly, “G” formed his hand into a fist and cocked it back ready to deliver a hard punch to the jaw. He could see the expression on the pink skinned alien change almost instantly as he saw the fist coming at him. Before “G” could land the blow though his arm was stopped by a pair of delicate looking hands. Those hands belonged to “G”’s partner who was also undercover on this assignment as an equipment specialist.

She gave a quick passing glance in “G”’s direction that scolded him. “How dare she look at me like a little child,” he thought to himself. She then moved her gaze to the Bith who was still in a prone position before “G”. “What seems to be the problem here fellas?”

“Oh T...t…thank goodness you stepped in when you did. This piece of bantha poodoo was about to bash my face in for asking a simple question.”

Bensi turned her gaze back at “G”. “Is this true?”, she asked with a look on her face like one of a mother talking to her scolded child.

He held back his answer at first. He was so gonna have a talk with her later about protocol on an undercover assignment. “Yes it is. I apologize for letting my anger get to me. I haven’t been sleeping well lately and it has made me irritable.”

“See now was that so hard to work out?”, she said in one of her sweetest of voices.

The Bith just stood there and shrugged his shoulders, but the look in his eyes showed he accepted the apology regardless of how much he didn’t want too. “G” let go of his shirt and tossed him to the floor as the Bith ran off to go tell his buddies about the incident.

Once the Bith was out of sight, Klye slammed “G” against the wall in the breakroom. “What the hell was that all about?!?”, she said her tone doing a full 180 degree turnaround from earlier with the Bith. There was fire in her eyes that had risen up as well, but he wasn’t intimidated in the least.

“For your information probie, I had the situation in perfect control. He was about to reveal info on the origins of the smuggling ring.”

The fire only grew in her eyes. “Don’t give me that load of sithspawn!! We both know that the lead we are following isn’t a Bith. Lettie gave us specific orders to lay low and gain the trust of the staff here.” She stopped to take a breath and then continue, but “G” who had pretty much lost all patience interrupted her.

“How dare you talk to me in that way. I’m the senior agent in this operation you know that and you also know that I know what I’m doing!! We both agreed after that incident in the office building we would do things my way from now on!! My gut instinct told me that Bith was involved in some way and he was about to make me.”

“I saw the whole situation. The Bith was clueless and couldn’t tell the difference between a spark plug and a hydrospanner much less determine whether you’re an agent or not!!” Their argument had escalated to a full on shouting match which had drawn everyones attention. The duo just looked at those people and gave them an innocent nod.

Right at that moment both “G”’s and Bensi’s comms began to beep. It was the agency’s red alert beacon going off. They hurried their way down the halls of the stadium and out to the parking lot. Along the way “G” answered his which gave way to the all too familiar voice of their Operations manager Lettie Hange. “I need you both back in ops ASAP. A break in the smuggling case has just come up and we need you here to debrief you. We believe one of the equipment managers that you are working with “G” is a mole and supplier for the smuggling ring. We have it narrowed down to a Rodian, Twi’lek, and a Bith.” That last bit made “G” do a double take. Maybe Klye was onto something earlier after all. “We are taking all precautions to make you both haven’t been made. I shall see you both back here as soon as possible. End transmission.” Bensi looked over at “G” as they both scrambled into their speeder. The look said it all, a look that said “I told you so” which made him just roll his eyes as they sped off towards their HQ.

TAG: No one

 

IC: Cruth Kantor
Galaga Club, Coruscant

The stars were out in force for the presentation of the Helmsman Memorial Trophy, the award that was to be awarded that night. Cruth was going to present it once more to a very deserving athlete, but even he didn’t know who that might be. With the Athletic Club he owned partially closed due to routine maintenance and repair work that couldn’t be pushed back any longer, the Galaga Club had opened its doors for him and his trophy, which some lucky athlete was about to walk away with.

The Zabrak strolled to the podium, and the entire theater went silent. “Hello, and welcome to the presentation of the 276 Helmsman Memorial Trophy. This award is handed out to the best college player from this season, which saw a bunch of entertaining games from all over the galaxy. The four nominees are as follows:

From Enarch Tech, corner forward Genevieve Rokee.” Highlights of the Zabrak showed on the various vidscreens around the club.

“From Citadel University of Anaxes, half back Patti Meter.” Cameras showed the 2-time winner of the Outlandi Award, and she smiled for all of them.

“”From the University of Agamar . . .” Dirt track, Cruth thought as he spoke. “Goaltender Oola Ban.”

“From Druckenwell Technical University, full forward Nina Odette.” Applause came from the crowd, and then things went silent once again. Cruth reached down and picked up the envelope in which the name of the winner was waiting.

“It’s time to find out who won,” he said. Slitting the envelope’s seal, he slid out a piece of flimsy. Now was the moment of truth.

The winner of the 276 Helmsman Memorial Trophy is . . .

Spoiler

Patti Meter, half back from the Citadel University of Anaxes.”


Meter went up to the front to take her award and to pose for pictures. She had a feeling that this could be the start of something big, because this was a prestigious award. However, her Draft position was the big question. Where would she start her pro career? That question could only be answered at the Draft. For now, she was the best player in the galaxy, and that was a pretty damn good feeling.

TAG: Everyone OOC: Yes, this helps set up the Mock.

 

Mock Draft v. 1.0


1. Coruscant Senators – Patti Meter, Half Back, Citadel University of Anaxes

The Senators were atrocious on defense last year, and are in desperate need of new leadership in their halfback line. Adding the Helmsman winner from this season should help, especially with veterans stocking the position group for the black and orange. Meter should help immediately.

2. Agamar Packers - Wylliam Starsearcher (Human, Male, Right Half Back, University of Tatooine)

The Packers made some strides in their defense last season, but there is still work to be done. Starsearcher is an interesting prospect coming out of Tatooine, and could compete for a starting job.

3. Mando’ade Mercs - Neal Baelidy (Human, Male, Defensive Back, Namaryne System University Knights)

A string of defensive backs is surprising, but all three of these teams need help on that side of the ball. With the retirement of the Hanson brothers, the Mercs need to find help at all three of those half back positions. Baelidy should be able to slide into any of those spots immediately, and has the utility value to stick.

4. Bakura Miners - Genevieve Rokee (Zabrak, Female, Enarch Tech, Corner Forward)

With the retirement of Nancheka Stormborn, the Miners need a corner forward to replace her. Look for Quinn Cundertol to select her replacement here, especially a Helmsman nominee. However, then again, since when has he decided to agree with my Mock Draft? He should, though. I kinda know my Limmie too, ya know!

5. Euceron Storm - Dorvan Fiesta (Xexto, Male, Corner Forward, UB Gesco City)

More of a maintenance pick to help stock their forward line, but Fiesta should be good. The big knock on him is size, but his hands are astounding (get the pun?)

6. Euceron Storm - Canton Golbert (Zeltron, Male, Midfielder, University of Coruscant)

Again, the Storm don’t need to draft for need, so they can take the top midfielder off the board here to bolster their corps there.

7. Rydonni Prime Monarchs - Emma Blanchard (Human, Female, Half Forward, University of Ryell Clemency Beasts)

Hometown girl? Rydonni Prime and its local bias? Need a new whipping girl for the Vesper Lynd show? Check, check, and check. Blanchard will fit in perfectly with this team.

8. Nar Shaddaa Smugglers - Doug Kraken (Quarren, Male, Corner Forward, Dac State University)

Again, not a pick for need, but the Smugglers don’t need much from their picks here in this Draft. Look for them to trade this pick if a good deal comes along.


Second Round:

Coruscant Senators - Horst Penn (Human, Male, Full Back, University of Agamar)

Agamar Packers - Ivaan Artor (Human, Male, Full Forward, University of Agamar)

Mando'ade Mercs - Shen Shyall (Shistavanen, Female, Druckenwell Technical University, Half Back)

Bakura Miners - Bo'gruth (Aqualish, Male, Right Corner Back, Coruscant Polytechnic Institute)

Euceron Storm - Mike Doubleday (Human, Male, Half Back, Tanaab A&M University)

Ralltiir Starkillers - Augustina Dekula (Twi’lek, Female, Left Half Back, University of Ord Mantell)

Ralltiir Starkillers (from Rydonni Prime Monarchs) - Morganthow (Ryn, Male, Half Forward, Chandrila A&M)

Euceron Storm (from Nar Shaddaa Smugglers) - Jaymes Nolen (Human, Male, Forward, University of Byblos Starjammers)

Third Round

Coruscant Senators - Severine (Hapan, Female, Midfielder, Royal College of Hapes)

Agamar Packers - Jessie 'Quicksilver' Dare (Human, Female, Midfielder, University of Agamar)

Mando'ade Mercs - George Wulson (Weequay, Male, Midfielder, University of Coruscant)

Bakura Miners – Off-board pick

Euceron Storm – Off-board pick

Ralltiir Starkillers - Sutton Millard (Human, Female, Corner Back, Atalanta University)

Rydonni Prime Monarchs – Off-board pick

Nar Shaddaa Smugglers - Ropdor (Rodian, Male, Half Forward, The Ord Saboak University)

TAGS to Bardan_Jusik, Tim Battershell, Trieste, Vehn, Runjedirun, jcgoble3, CPL_Macja

 

Elite League Limmie 277: Coronation​

​

(Excuse the associated images--it was the best arrangement of the music I could find.)​

The press had been notified that “the Commissioner of Elite League Limmie will be making a major announcement at precisely noon in the press briefing room of the Elite League offices,” today.

“A major announcement.” Those words had been used very rarely by the Commissioner. The last time that anyone could remember those words being used was when the conference realignment had been announced—and that had shaken the League. Accordingly, it was standing room only in the briefing room as the sports reporters waited for the Commissioner to appear.

In the hallway outside, Niakara Kayl’hen took a few deep breaths. What she had to say would be the toughest speech of her life. She didn’t feel ready for it. She would probably never feel ready for it.

“Commissioner, it’s one minute to midday,” Esther Gondorf said.

Kayl’hen nodded. “Esther, it has been a pleasure working with you.”

“And with you, Commissioner,” Gondorf replied.

And with that, Niakara Kayl’hen walked through the door into the briefing room. The light from the camera flashes was blinding.

---

In a back room, Kerry Trieste sat, leaning forward, elbows on her knees, fingers steepled in front of her mouth. Though the outcome of what was to come was already assured, she was more nervous than if it was an election day. It was almost funny that the hardened political veteran was nervous about what was waiting for her.

The worst part of it was that she knew she should be nervous. What she was about to do might well the most scrutiny of anything she had ever done in her life.

---

“Gentlebeings…” Kayl’hen began, “members of the media…limmie fans around the galaxy.” The words seemed to dry up in her throat, but somehow they sounded strong and clear as she spoke them. Maker help me get through this, Kayl’hen thought.

“For nearly 125 years, Elite League Limmie has hosted the greatest competition of bolo-ball to be found anywhere in the galaxy. The players who have graced its teams are the best in the galaxy. During my tenure as Commissioner, the sport not only maintained its level of excellence, but exceeded it.

“We have had some of the most exciting Galactic Cup Playoffs in the League’s history since I accepted the position of Elite League Commissioner—including the most recent one. Regular season games regularly sellout across the galaxy. We broadcast our games across the Holonet to more systems than ever before,” Kayl’hen said, “Of all the accomplishments of my tenure, I am most proud of the institution of the Skywalker and Solo Conferences as they are currently constituted. We now have an exciting conference schedule bolstered by new rivalries that have made the sport better. I will admit, there was some rough patches in getting these conferences properly adjusted, it has made the sport better and it was well worth it.”

Those words were directed at one being who Kayl’hen was sure would get the message. This Bothan was unrepentant, even now.

“But to all things there is a season, and that includes a Commissioner,” Kayl’hen said, “This is why, at the offseason Board of Governors meeting, I tendered my resignation as Commissioner…”

---

She had so carefully planned all of this. It had been years in the making. Kerry had been carefully laying groundwork, keeping her actions off the sensors. Building bridges and relationships well in advance of when she would ask for votes. Doing favors and building up that intangible ledger that was worth more than credits. She had given up the leadership of her family—a distinction that had meant everything to her—for this. Kerry couldn’t help but wonder if she was letting the Noble House down with what she was doing, if her naked ambition had gotten the better of her. The galaxy was going to have its say about what was about to happen. It could judge her harshly.

But it was going to happen. Nothing could change that now.

---

“For the last 16 years it has been my privilege to be the Commissioner of the Elite League. I leave it knowing that I did more good than harm and that alone makes me content,” Kayl’hen continued.

The next sentence stuck in her throat and that was when one of the members of the press, one of the beat regulars, stood and started applauding. She was soon joined by the other colleagues who had been to so many Kayl’hen press conferences. The others soon took up the applause, all of them standing, paying their respect to Niakara Kayl’hen.

“Thank you, thank you, you are too kind,” Kayl’hen said, in an attempt to continue. However, the press were insistent that they would laud the Bothan for everything she had done before they let her go.

---

Kerry had been planning this speech for months. She’d crafted it carefully, shaving words, adding others, refining it like gold. It would set a tone for everything to follow. She was sure of it.

“Chancellor Trieste?”

“Actually, it’s just Mrs. Trieste now,” Kerry said.

“Of course. It’s time.”

Kerry stood and smoothed her dress. She looked at herself in a mirror to make sure that everything looked to be in place.

It was time.

---

“As I have dedicated the last 16 years of my career to promoting the Elite League, I felt it was incumbent upon me to present the Board with a candidate to succeed me for their consideration,” Kayl’hen continued when the press finally ended their applause, “Many candidates were vetted. However, there was only one being who fit all of the criteria to successfully lead the Elite League into the future.

“The League needs a being of proven leadership, one who has handled great things and done them well. The learning curve is steep enough even for the experienced.

“The next Commissioner must be able to wade through the politics that are an inextricable part of Elite League Limmie. These are not just the politics of the Board of Governors or of dealing with irate General Managers. The Elite League spans a galaxy without regard for political borders. We must operate with many different planetary and interstellar governments. A Commissioner who understands these challenges is required.

“To work cooperatively and productively with the Board of Governors, the Elite League requires a Commissioner who can stand at the head of the table and garner their respect. This comes from knowing their interests and balancing them with the interest of the players, the fans, and—most importantly—the sport in mind.

“It is my pleasure to say that, after debate, the Board of Governors found this candidate acceptable and voted to confirm the nomination.”

Niakara Kayl’hen paused.

“Gentlebeings, may I introduce the next Commissioner of Elite League Limmie…”

---

“…you know her well—Kerry Trieste.”

That was her cue. Kerry walked into the briefing room, all smiles, and shook the hand of her predecessor with a broad grin for the media to capture—to much applause. When that finished, Kerry stepped up to the rostrum.

“Thank you all for that warm welcome,” Kerry said, “I was once told that after being Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, you really don’t ‘do’ anything. After all, what’s an appropriate second act after leading the free galaxy? Well, in all honesty, Commissioner had a nice ring to it.”

The reporters laughed.

“Seriously, it is my pleasure to take the reins of such a prestigious organization. As all of you know, my passion for limmie has been a constant my entire life. It started with the family game that my parents held every year, which continues to this day. It grew in my high school years and then as a UB Salis D’aar Bear. Alas, politics saw to it that my life took a different turn, but I was lucky enough to continue my involvement with the game through the Miners. It was with great reluctance that I stepped down from my role with the Miners organization, but the time had come to pass the mantle.

“How lucky I was that I will be able to continue to promote and advance the limmie as Commissioner,” Kerry smiled.

---

“…Fenrir Lokensgaard.”

Seemingly (if not actually) hundreds of flashes lit the briefing room as the next Commissioner of Elite League Limmie strode from a side door to the podium, where he shook hands with Kayl’hen, sporting a large smile.



“Well, good day, members of the esteemed press. I look forwarding to getting to know all of you individually over the coming months,” the male Arhan said, “I must begin by saying that I was surprised to get the call saying that the Board of Governors of the Elite League wanted to interview me, a deputy commissioner in the Alliance Boloball Conference. My first answer was actually, and I remember these words very clearly, ‘No, stop pranking me Suze,’ at which point I naturally hung up.

“I later learned that those had been my first words to the Commissioner of the Elite League,” Fenrir smiled. The audience laughed, as did the Bothan herself.

“Honestly, I don’t know where to begin,” Lokensgaard continued, “I can tell you what I told the Board my goals are right out of the gate.” He ticked them off with his fingers.

“Uphold the high level of athletic excellence and fairness set by Commissioner Kayl’hen.

“Ensure the fiscal soundness and profitability of all teams in the league.

“Provide an outstanding fan experience in all areas.

“I think it’s really just that simple,” Fenrir said.

---

“…I can honestly say that nothing in the galaxy could have possibly made me any happier than to have the pleasure of serving as the Commissioner of the Bakura 10 Conference,” Kerry Trieste continued, far away from Coruscant on her homeworld.

“Mr. Tosct has built a firm foundation for the conference, which is generating revenue for all of its member institutions and increasing alumni engagement. It’s time for this conference to start really flexing its muscles and show the galaxy what it can do.

“Though our flagship sport is, and will remain, limmie—and I think the Bak10’s performance at the Elite League Limmie Draft these past few years proves that—it is going to be a personal priority for me to develop all the sports in the conference into galactically-renowned programs. The conference’s aquatics programs are, objectively, the best this side of Dac. Our championships prove it. We have strong lightball, zoomball, and smashball programs. In crew we take on the big players in the Core regularly. It’s time that the galaxy stand up and take notice of Bakuran collegiate athletics and recognize our excellence.

“I spent ten years on Coruscant showing the rest of the galaxy what Bakura can do when we put our mind to it,” Kerry said, “Now they’re going to find out that not only does Bakura work hard, but we play hard too.”

---

Commissioner’s office, Elite League Limmie offices, Coruscant
Prior to Week 6 games

“Niakara, we’re not leaving this office until you and I select the next Commissioner,” Kerry said.

“The Board of Governors selects the next Commissioner,” Kayl’hen said. She had just agreed to her own resignation and Kerry Trieste’s “favor” was beginning to unfold before her. “I don’t.”

“No,” Kerry said sternly, “The bylaws say that the Board of Governor approves the contract of the Commissioner. It doesn’t say who identifies candidates.”

“It’s been historically farmed out to a search committee,” Kayl’hen said, “appointed by the Board.”

“But, given the lateness at which you will regretfully tender your resignation, the League will be adrift. The time to do a proper search at the Board level will be woefully inadequate,” Kerry said, “However, when you make a recommendation, one that has your personal seal of approval, the Board will accept it.”

“Some of your colleagues don’t like me,” Niakara said, “If I suggest someone, they’ll vote against it.”

“Leave the votes to me,” Kerry said, “I’ve been counting votes all my life. I can count to seven with no trouble at all.”

“I take it you have a candidate in mind?” Kayl’hen sighed, “Wouldn’t happen to be you now that you’re about to be unemployed in a few days, would it?”

Kerry laughed softly. “Oh no. I have a different retirement in mind than having the galaxy get more furious at me than they ever did when I was in elective office. No, no. You and I are going to find the next Commissioner.” She lifted up her datapad. “I’ve got files on every candidate in this galaxy with any promise at all. We’re going to find someone who will be a strong leader, who will keep both the owners and the unions in line. Someone who won’t ruin the good thing that everyone has going on here. Someone who’s going to make sure this League is in the black.”

“Your vision for the future of the League, I take it?”

“Niakara, you know my position. You upheld the standards of athletic excellence and sportsmanship. Worthy, worthy endeavors. I admire you for defending them,” Kerry said, “But there’s a reason I impose an internal salary cap on the Miners. This has always been a business.”

Kayl’hen said. “Kerry, why am I in the room? You know what you want. Go find your next Commissioner without me and get your votes.”

“Whoever we find in these files won’t be my candidate,” Kerry said, “Whoever it is, it’s going to be the Commissioner we need, not the one we desire.”

And so it was, in the dark of a Coruscanti night just beginning to lighten with the coming dawn, that Niakara Kayl’hen passed a file electronically between datapads to the Chancellor.

“What do you think of this Lokensgaard? He shows promise,” Kayl’hen said.

Kerry Trieste was silent for two minutes as she read intently. When she finally looked up she said, “Let’s bring him in. I’m not convinced…but we might have just found him.”

---

Present day

As Kerry fielded another question from what was already proving to be a friendly press corps, her mind wandered over the years of work she’d put in to bring about her appointment as Bak10 Commissioner.

The chancellors and presidents of the member universities officially voted on the Commissioner, though many with the input and advice of their Athletic Director. Kerry had begun with her base of power: the University of Bakura chancellors. She knew them, or their predecessors, well from her years as Prime Minister when she had served as President of the Board of Regents that oversaw the system. It had been an easy matter to plant the idea with them that Yarl had done good things, but that the Conference needed someone to take it to the next level. Someone with galactic experience who could handle the Super 16 and SEC. It didn’t take them long to come up with her name, seemingly on their own. The rest of the Conference resented the undue influence the UB campuses exerted on the Bak10 when they organized themselves into a bloc, that was that. Well placed calls to her alma mater, a meeting set up by Declan with UB Telaan Valley’s Chancellor (it would not do to refuse a favor from their Senator), and a gentle introduction from Siona to the Chancellor at UB Gesco City had helped smooth things.

With four out of six votes already lined up, Kerry picked up the fifth without any trouble. Her sister Fiona had been forced out of field command by Kerry’s Unionist successors and tucked away as Superintendent of the Bakura Fleet Academy. It was an insult to Fiona, but it now served a purpose. It took only a brief meeting at the Academy to bring the Athletic Director on board—whether he liked it or not given the fact that the chain of command was quite strong at a military academy the Academy.

Kerry activated the other connections of the Noble House to round out the roster. Her sister Regan set up a meeting with the President of Tiarest University. Ronan made arrangements for her to meet the President of the University of Evenvale (those arrangements being coupled with a reminder regarding recent gifts to the School of Business). Nessa, whose husband had attended the College of Deredith & Millicent, and Ronan, who had sent his eldest son there recently, both helped get Kerry in to see that President. Falene, still beloved at PCNS in the wake of her galactic championship there, had no trouble getting her mother a sit-down with the AD who made sure to bring the President along. They all fell in line. Atalanta University’s President had no intention of singling herself out as the only one to vote against the incoming Commissioner.

And so it was that Kerry Trieste, by a vote of 10-0, succeeded Yarl Tosct as Commissioner of the Bakura 10 Conference.

It was unfortunate that she’d to step down as owner of the Miners. If she had remained as such she would have heard all about the conflict of interest. The accusations that she would use her influence to keep Bak10 limmie players from entering the ELL Draft and get them to sign with the Miners as free agents would begin the moment such a thing happened just once. She couldn’t divide the Noble House’s property, which included the shares of the Miners, so she’d had to give it all up to be Commissioner. There would always be some talk that she was turning the Bak10 into the exclusive development system of the Miners, but Kerry was going to put that to rest by making sure that the best and the brightest went where they belonged: the ELL Draft. That would solve her credibility problem and show the Super 16, SEC, and every other conference who was the best collegiate athletic conference in the galaxy.

However, those were her plans for the future. In response to the question from the reporter, who had just finished, in the present, Kerry replied, “Let me put it this way: it’s good to be home.”

---

Fenrir Lokensgaard looked out at the press and media. He firmly, but casually, grasped the sides of the podium that bore the Elite League Limmie seal. Yes, it felt good to stand at this podium. He was now at the center of the galaxy of sports. This very podium represented it. Fenrir was the final arbiter of the most popular (and prosperous) field sport in the galaxy, its popularity rivaled only perhaps by podracing—and that was a seriously debatable charge.

The lights would always be upon him here. Their glare might be harsh and unrelenting to some, but to him it was glorious. In the light, one shone and dazzled. Fenrir had spent enough of his time in the shadows—almost all of his life there. It had been a “dead end job” in the ABC, a deputy commissionership. But where others had seen dead ends, Fenrir had found possibilities and—more importantly—he had acted on them. What he had done, quietly, in the shadows, had brought him to where he was today. And when he had gotten his shot, when he had been called before the Board of Governors, he’d known exactly what to say and they’d voted him in.

None of them had seen him coming. Especially not the Chancellor, who had removed herself from the picture just as he had risen to the top. He couldn’t have planned it any better himself—and he had been planning for quite a long time.

In that moment, Fenrir knew that he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

“If I had to sum things up in a sentence…I guess it’d be that it’s a pleasure to be here,” Fenrir said with a broad smile.

Elite League Limmie had a new master.

TAG: Bardan_Jusik CPL_Macja jcgoble3 Jedi Gunny JM_1977 Rebecca_Daniels Runjedirun Tim Battershell Vehn

 

OOC: No, this is not a draft post. I've had this ready to go for some time.

IC: Polis Vayne
Home, Coruscant

Polis sat on the sofa, deep in thought. Changes in the Senator front office and coaching staff had given him much pause, because it had opened an opportunity. But could that possibility become a detriment to his career as a coach? Should he go forward with this offer, or should he stay behind in his current position? Was it time to move on and look for greener pastures?

The former corner forward watched as the twins played with each other on the floor. Both of them were 2 years old by now, a complete shock to his system. They were growing up so fast. Anya looked so much like her mother, while Buck . . . well, he had the roguish looks of both parents, the impressive jaw of his mother and the moppy hair that his father had always worn. How would such a decision affect these two? What would Meredith think if he went through with this? Could he himself deal with the repercussions of such a change?

But he wanted this opportunity. He had spent several years as a positional coach with the Senators, had done his part to help the team. But now was the time to move on. His stock was rising every year, and someone had finally given him the chance to get closer to the pinnacle of coaching. He had to take it. He was grateful to the Senators for everything they had done for him, but now it was his turn to take his career somewhere new.

He finally picked up his comlink and called his wife. Meredith was on Hapes now as the incoming head coach for the C-Bucs, and was going to be gone for large parts of the offseason to deal with matters there. But she picked up, which was a relief for Polis. He filled her in, and all she said in return was that it was up to him, and that she would support his decision.

It was time for Polis Vayne to make the switch.

---

“ . . . our new offensive coordinator, Polis Vayne,” Lorrin Malestra said to the crowd in the press room on Thyferra. Polis came up and shook the GM’s hand before sitting down at the table.

“Mr. Vayne, why did you decide to choose becoming the offensive coordinator for an LFL team?”

“It was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. Being an offensive coordinator is something I’ve been wanting to do for some time, but this gives me an opportunity to hone my craft at a lower level. Besides, I hear Thyferra’s nice.”

“Why did you decide to leave Coruscant and come to their organizational affiliate?”

“It was a tough decision to leave, but I figured that it was in my best interests to come here. At least I get to stay within the organization.”

“This is quite a shift, going from veteran commodities to rookies and prospects. How difficult do you anticipate this new job to be?”

“I expect it will be trying at times,” Polis said. “But it will be my job to get those rookies ready for the big-time, and that’s what coaching at this level is all about. I look forward to fostering relationships with these young players and preparing them for the Elite League.”


After the press conference was over, Polis drove back to his apartment, the twins in their speeder seats. It was small, but it would have to be considered “home” for the upcoming season. For now he would return to Coruscant, and would rent this space out to someone else, but soon enough he would return. For now, he was placing a few items in the apartment so that he could settle in. One of the items he took out from his boxes was a piece of flimsy with some lipstick on it in the imprint of lips, a reminder from Meredith that they might be half a galaxy away from each other, but they were still together. This was going to get a place of honor, Polis figured as he gently placed it up on the wall. He just hoped he was making the right decision in staying here.

TAG: No One

 

Sub-GM Post

For immediate release

The Limmie Futures League has considered the case of Ava Killenger, on appeal from the Coruscant Senators and Thyferra Force. After discussion with team management and Ms. Killenger herself, it is the opinion of Commissioner Marius Turnell that she has learned her lesson after her drug abuse offense in 265 and that no purpose is served by continuing the League's hold on her through the first two weeks of the season. Accordingly, the Commissioner has fully reinstated Ms. Killenger, effective immediately, meaning that she may be called up to the Elite League whenever the Senators see fit. The Commissioner trusts that Ms. Killenger will not repeat her offense, and has made it clear to her that should it be repeated while she remains within the jurisdiction of the Futures League, stricter punishment will be enforced.

TAG: Jedi Gunny

 

IC: Vesper Lynd
Meshla Vhetin, Keldabe, Mandalore
121st Galactic Cup Final, Monarchs vs. Smugglers

Going into the half the Monarchs were not where they wanted to be up by one, lonely point. It was not a good position to be in against a team that puts up an average of 20 points a game and torched them for 40 at the beginning of the season. The upside was the Monarchs’ Defense was holding. Then again, you wouldn’t have known that by the way Abe was reacting. Frustrated by giving up a goal through his five hole, he kicked his chair into his own dressing stall, picked it back up and slammed it down on the ground, shattering all four of its legs. Defiantly he sat on top of the ruined remains during the duration of Halftime.

His emotional outburst was the manifestation of what the rest of the team was feeling. The frustration was starting to eat at Vesper. No matter what she and the rest of the offense did they just couldn’t seem to get any traction in the race for points. Stepping back out on the pitch, the wind started howling like the swirling storm of emotions inside of her. As the Smugglers started off the bolo in the second half, Vesper tried to keep her cool.

“Don’t let them in your head,” she mumbled to herself as she cut her way through the Smuggler defense, “Don’t let them see your frustration. Be the good sport you always have to be. Conceal your anger, don’t feel your ire, don’t let them know your fury.” That was when it happened. She laid a bone-crushing hit on Nexrus to leave her one-on-one with Leed. “Well, now they know.”

As she moved in on Jayla she decided right then, she was going to let it go. She wasn’t going to hold back anymore. She no-longer was going to care what everyone was going to say. She was going to allow the storm within her rage on, and show it to the rest of the galaxy. That’s when Leed laid a hit on Vesper that sent her flying. When no whistle came from the officials Vesper knew they were in trouble. The lack of a call bloodied the Monarchs and the Smugglers could smell it.

‘The Hit’, as future generations of Monarchs would come to call it, was the turning point in the game. The Smugglers’ Back Six stepped up the physicality of the game, the one thing that the Monarchs forwards lacked. They were designed for finesse and high tempo, so the Smugglers style of defense slowed them and allowed Leed to lock them down for the rest of the match.

---

Visiting Owner’s luxury box

Even though the players on the field continued to pound away at each other it was obvious to the Monarchs upper management what the outcome was going to be. One by one they all slipped out the door until the only ones that remained were the Helios clan. They were so focused on the game action that they never realized what was happening until the final buzzer sounded and they were all alone.

---

Visitor’s dressing room

After the match ended and the Smugglers initial celebration ebbed while the ELL officials set the stage for the trophy presentation, Vesper made sure she walked over to Jayla Leed to congratulate her and to show she had no hard feelings about ‘The Hit’. She then lead the Monarchs off the field, so that the Smugglers could have their moment in the sun… or, as it was, the sleet.

Not a single person spoke as they changed out of their uniforms into their travel clothes. Vesper opted to stay in the shower longer than anyone else. Letting the water trickle down her body, it slowly washed the mud and frustration of the entire past season off of her. The water, as it always was in the visitor’s showers at Meshla Vhetin, was cold, but it was warmer than the sleet of which they just came out. Leaning against the wall one small thought crystalized like an icy blast, she was never going back to the way she was before, the past was in the past.

She walked out of the shower to find herself the last person to get changed. All of the other stalls were completely empty, not even the equipment managers were around cleaning up after the team. Her dirty uniform was missing, all that was hanging in her stall was her change of clothes. As her head popped through the neck of her shirt a strong hand forced a rag over her mouth and nose. She fought as hard as she could, until the world around her grew black…

to be continued…

TAG: No One

 

OOC: The following post is the start of a collaborative effort between Vehn and Jedi Gunny. This is the story of the Hapes Consortium Buccaneers. As of this post, no Hapans were actually harmed during the making of this project though that can change at a moment's notice should Commissioner Lockensgaard make us mad.

Ta'Chume'Dan, Hapes

Meredith's shuttle touched down on the landing pad of her homeworld of Hapes. A heavy rain thundered above, splashing the ground below, but she didn't mind. She had missed real weather in all her time on Nar Shaddaa. She'd missed feeling sunlight, feeling snow, feeling rain, the wind, and it wasn't until she set foot on Hapes that she realized how much she'd missed her childhood home.

She reflected on her children at home on Coruscant with her husband, Polis Vayne. They were descendants of Hapans as well. They should be here to honor where they came from, to honor their past. Maybe one day they would journey with her to the land that had born one of the greatest players to have ever played the beautiful game in the Kayl'hen era of Elite League Limmie.

Meredith suppressed a smile as familiar scents came to her. Yes, she remembered this world well. Full of happy memories. Full of peaceful memories. She had loved growing up here and it was a real pleasure to be back. When she'd left she'd been but a child. Now she was an adult with all the trappings of a champion. This move to Hapes felt right. Maker, did it feel right.

Meredith double-checked her datapad and picked up her pace towards the Hapes C-Bucs headquarters. She had a meeting with her fellow Hapan, former rival, and now boss, Adanna Inviere in just a few minutes. It wouldn't be good form to show up late. Now they had to work together. Now they had to formulate a plan for a franchise that had too long learned to love the poodoo trough. No, this was her chance to set her mark. All she needed was to make it very clear to Inviere where the boundaries were. If they played nice together, this entire experiment would go well.

She strode past the Hapan secretary and confidently entered Inviere's office.She recognized Inviere immediately. Who wouldn't? She was one of the most beautiful Hapans that Meredith had ever seen. Adanna made Meredith appear homely and quite a few suitors had come calling in Meredith's single days. But enough about romance. This was business.

"Good morning, Adanna," Meredith said eschewing a more formal address.

Adanna turned around in her chair to face the source of the voice. Before her stood Meredith Chambers, the legend . . . and yet there was something surreal about all this for the younger Hapan. All the times she and Chambers had gone head-to-head in their playing days, Chambers saving goals, Adanna keeping her goalie from having to save goals. They were about as separate as two individuals could be, but there was something else, something that brought them together more than either had probably thought so hard about before. There was the lineage they both shared, the Hapan way of life. Perhaps, despite their differences, their pitched battles over the years, and the intervening period of time since they retired . . . they could make something special happen here. Now was their chance to make history, and to prove that they were the next generation of superstar managers. They had learned from the best; now they had to beat their mentors and allegiances to be successful.

"Ah, Meredith," Adanna said. "Sit down." She motioned to the chair on the opposite side of her desk. "I'm sure you know already, but we have a lot to discuss."

Meredith sat down and matter of factly crossed her legs. It felt strange to be working on Hapes. It felt even stranger to be working for Adanna Inviere. Gone were the flicks and zips of memories of their heated contests on the pitch. No raucous roar from the orange and black, no counter punch from the devils in burgundy, no, here, they stood on somewhat equal footing. No longer battling, no longer pursuing that holiest of trophies as players, time had worn their once sharp edges down. That wasn't a bad thing, Meredith thought. That wasn't a bad thing at all. A younger Meredith Chambers would never have indulged five minutes of Inviere's time. Then again, a younger Meredith wouldn't have been in a position to coach a professional Limmie squad.How times changed. Old battle lines were being re-drawn on a daily basis. Why not start here, on Hapes, the place where it all began for two very talented players and minds of the Elite League?

"We do," Meredith said after a momentary pause to stare out at the Hapan skyline.

"Forgive me, Adanna, but this all seems so strange, you and I, working together to build a contender. But here we are. Once rivals and now, well, maybe tolerant ex-competitors. I want to say that we should look at our roster. See who fits and who doesn't. But something tells me that we have plenty of time to go over that conundrum. I think we should focus on philosophy, strategy, and finding out what it is that really defines Limmie on Hapes. I mean, let's get real here, pretty girls wearing tight shorts and jerseys only goes so far. I know you and I have lifted the Galactic Cup in victory, I believe we could do the same here. Thoughts?"

Adanna just smirked at Meredith's comment about tight shorts. Oddly enough, that was the most attractive part of the organization to the rest of the league and the galaxy at large. But then her expression changed again when Meredith finished, because this was a serious issue. The C-Bucs had to be known for more than the attractiveness of the players wearing the Hapes uniform. They had to prove that they were also efficient Limmie players. That was going to be the ultimate challenge.

"You know, Meredith, if someone had told me a decade ago that we would be working together on a coaching staff after retirement, I would've laughed in their face. This was not something I would have ever seen coming, and I'm sure you would have had similar thoughts. I know it would have been a shock to me. 'It would never happen until the Hapan sun goes into true night', I would have said.

But now this is a reality, and we are here to win the Cup. And you are correct; we must understand not only what we have to work with here on Hapes, but also what we want out of this organization. We have both worked under excellent organizations, and we both have ideas on how we can bring that knowledge into this franchise. But that doesn't necessarily work in all situations. Teams struggle, and we're going to be fighting against the clock to turn this team around. That is our goal."

She looked to the shelf she had just populated with odds and ends. A Holo of her holding the Galactic Cup trophy in 271 was the first thing she saw. She wanted to lift that silver chalice once more, and Meredith was going to help her get there. But they had to get started somewhere.

"So, what are we waiting for?" the Hapan said, calling up a roster. "Let us begin."
hologram on Adanna's disk whirred open and let out a gentle hum as the Hapes Consortium Buccaneers roster was vividly displayed for both participants to see. Meredith studied the faces of the starters for a quiet moment. Stats were compiled next to each name as were highlight plays on display for analysis. Meredith didn't bother with the highlight reels quite yet. What she wanted to see was what she had seen with the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers and that was players that were hungry, attacked decisively, and played with no mercy. That was the Smuggler Way. She suspected, and rightly so, that Inviere's time with the Senators and Miners had shaped her own galactic philosophy on playing styles and strategies even though now Adanna found herself more on the contractual side of the sport, which, Meredith admitted, she was more than qualified to handle.

"Let's start with the back side," Meredith said, "I like what Montes brings to the table. She's got some technique to learn but she plays with some heart. She's just aggressive enough in the box to make opponents miss but not so much that she's eating turf through over extension. I'd like to keep her in the starting line-up. Her right hand gal, Kara Milvoy, is too often caught out of position because Hapes doesn't have a proper Full Back. Pamn Bouvier plays the position in a reactive way instead of setting the tone for the others to follow. That's not wise. If she gets put on her heels or blocks the goalkeeper's view, which," Meredith paused as she ran some footage," she does quite a bit then that screws everything up. Having said that, Bouvier is young still and can be re-trained."

Meredith killed the footage as she set her sights on Domino Derval.

"Derval should be trade bait. She's neither good for the system nor for Hapes," Meredith groaned.

Meredith's eyes caught Adanna's. A look was exchanged between them.

"You didn't," Meredith said with a bit of smile and then looked back at the roster.

"You did," Meredith laughed.

Derval and Honey Ryder disappeared off the Hapes C-Bucs roster entirely and in Ryder's place was the unmistakable visage of Alysha Romax standing tall and proud in a photo taken last season.

"Ms. Inviere," Meredith said her voice full of intrigue, "I do believe I am going to like working for you. You know just how to shop for all the groceries, especially the tasty ones. I've coveted Romax for a long time. Tried to get Kaitlyn Vehn to pull the trigger last year on a trade but she wouldn't nibble. I could've only imagined the terror wreaked by Erin Windreaver and Alysha Romax on the same team. Damn. Well, I suppose, this will have to do."

"Now we've got a hole in our roster at Left Corner Back which leads me to suggest that we try something radical this year. Well, not radical for Hapes, but you know the league starts calling come draft season wanting the Buccaneers to poke their heads into the maelstrom. I strongly advise us to stay clear of the draft and focus on quality talent evaluation. We can afford to be selective. Other clubs can't. Ladies only, you know the routine."

"Quite," Adanna said. She did in fact know the routine. The Draft didn't suit the needs of their franchise; even though a decently-ranked Hapan midfielder was on the HSN Rankings, why go to the trouble to draft three players when you might only keep one, or any at all. That would just be a waste of time.

"I'm sure there's someone we can find out there in this Cluster who would fit that roster hole quite nicely." She began to drum her fingers on the table a bit as she pondered options. "But I know one thing. This defense needs to shape up from last season. I'm not going to lie to you, Meredith. This defense was horrible last year. Even the Senators, with the banged-up team that oddly enough helped lower the price of Alysha in trade talks, torched them completely. At the time, I found that a refreshing concept, to be able to burn what should be a good defense. But now it worries me. We need to evaluate all of our defensive players and see if we can't just replace them with better options. Ms. Montes might be the only one we keep from the Back unit if we decide the rest are trade bait."

She paused here to collect her thoughts. Trades weren't likely; the organization would only accept Hapan women in return, and not many teams had one they were willing to give up. Reena Wyley with the Senators was one option, but her marriage to Cord McKerty shot that idea out of the sky. Those two wouldn't separate, she reasoned. Loren Jul with Ralltiir? Probably close to retirement, and besides, Martin Vigo likely wouldn't let her go. The Miners had a couple of Hapans on their roster, but both of them were forwards. The C-Bucs needed defense.

"I think we should table the defense discussions until we've gone over the whole roster." She then scanned the rest of the team. "Midfield seems . . . fine. Alysha will give us a veteran presence that we otherwise lack. Ms. Galore is still young and may not suit our needs." This led her to another thought.

"We may need to do something even more radical than bringing in a few new starters," she said. "We may need to get some frakking reserves. This team is overtaxed, spent after sixty. In order to win, we need to have subs to bring in for stretches so that they don't keel over out there."

Reserves. Meredith had to agree. The Nar Shaddaa Smugglers were not a team known to employ reserves. Did they have them? Yes. Did they use them? No. Historically, the Smugglers prided themselves on finding talent that could not only put other teams away but play the full sixty minutes and some change if necessary. That meant recruits were harder to come by. Reserves. Inviere was right. That was the way to go.

"I could've used some backup help during my time with the Smugglers," Meredith mildly complained, "but then again I don't know if I would've wanted someone else sealing a victory in my stead. I like your idea, Adanna. I say we look in the Hapan collegiate system or try our luck with open try-outs. You never know where you might find diamonds in the rough. Which brings me to leadership. This team is clearly lacking. Nobody on this roster screams "go-getter", "assertive", or even "leadership". I don't want to coach a bunch of Queen Mother's, I want a frakking team that wants to fight when the chips aren't going their way. I think we need to take a long hard look at swinging for another trade, maybe bringing in someone from another squad that has some fire."

Adanna thought about this statement for a few moments. Meredith had a point; the C-Bucs had mostly floundered the past three seasons when it came to leadership. Yes Wai Lin had been an All-Star, but was she really a competitive nightmare for opposing teams to have to deal with? Would Alysha be enough to get them over that hump? She was known to be an aggressive player, but as last season had shown, there were faults with that sort of attitude. Could they get the veteran midfielder to keep that competitive edge?

And then she thought of trades once more. Hapan options seemed few and far between. Would they have to swing a deal for a non-Hapan? Could the fanbase accept a move like that? Was this the time for a radical change that would destroy everything that had come before them? Could Hapan pride not be enough to provide them with a winning Limmie team?

Adanna mused on what Gark S'rily would have done in this situation. The Bothan was known to make a deal if it suited his needs, but he was also a proponent of building talent within an organization. The Thyferra Force had been a symbol of that talent development. Hapes didn't have that sort of development pipeline, so they had to get creative. But the Hall-of-Fame GM had also taught her to focus on the skills of players, not just their talents. Players like Maximus Qorbus and Christine Gamble dominated the headlines with their star-caliber plays, but what about other players Adanna had played with? Jed Ortmeyer? Role player, did what was necessary to win. Dorf Landa? Took a backseat to Aron Rodders and helped the Miner offense flow by passing the ball instead of scoring goals. They had to field a cohesive team here on Hapes, one that had willing passers, scorers, and everything in between. They needed to evaluate this roster and find someone who could fill in those blank spots. The defense was in need of a fix, but so was the offense. And then they needed veteran leadership from all sections of the squad.

"Who were you thinking of trading for?" Adanna finally asked after she finished her deliberation. "We have room to swing trades, but I want you to know one thing, Meredith. This may require us to make a paradigm change. Will the fans accept us bringing in a non-Hapan if we need some competitive fire? Because if we make one move like this, that opens up future possibilities, but also future detriments to our culture. You know how fiercely loyal we are to our own identity." She paused here; this had the opportunity to be huge. "Do we stay in the past, or do we move forwards and bring in non-Hapans for the first time?"

That was the six million credit question. Stay put or go forward. Such policies had helped teams in the past. Most recently, Meredith thought, the Bakura Miners had broken the last vestiges of their own
social prejudices and allowed non-humans on to the team. How'd that work out for them? Two titles in five years. Not bad. Oddly enough, for all its diversity, Nar Shaddaa had nearly an entirely all-human team. Nobody was complaining when they were winning but Meredith couldn't help but reflect on that little fact. Minor quibbles, really.

"There may be someone we can poach off the Smugglers reserve unit and bring them on over to Hapes without losing anyone on our end," Meredith pointed out. She keyed up a display. The image of Autumn Graves was displayed.

"She's in her early 30s, still fairly fresh in the legs, and has some experience with respectable clubs such as the Miners and Smugglers. She's done her part as a role-player in the past but I noticed that her personality really came to light when we subbed her in last season with the Smugglers a couple of times. She really held things together nicely and may be ready for a bigger transition into a leadership role. She would bring that veteran presence that is hard to get these days. I wouldn't say she's a retread but I would say that she's well-seasoned. She's got some mileage but so does anyone whose really been used as more of a role-player than a full on starter. I think she's got potential and she would be worth considering."

Meredith took a drink of water and looked out at the Hapes skyline. Such a pretty world and also an incredibly rocky one depending on which way the political winds of the time were blowing. She supposed that was the way it always had been. The men relegated to more menial tasks and the women telling them when and where to get off. That was fine. She suppressed a smile as she thought of something her mother once told her about the man thinking he was the head of the family but the woman was the neck. Yeah, Meredith thought, Mom had been right. So true. She brought her attention back to her Hapan problem. That is, how to fix decades of neglect in a short space of time.

"Adanna, we need to move forward. We can't afford to hold on to our Hapan traditions. There is a place and a time for that. This is Limmie. This is about something so much more than Hapan female superiority, beauty, or whatever competitive advantage this team thinks it possesses. You and I both know that change can be uncomfortable. Change can be hated. But in the long run, if change is slowly embraced, it can lead to greater growth and personal learning. Hell, I remember the time I first had a trainer tell me that I was playing the box all wrong. I was pissed off. I'd just won my first Cup with the Smugglers in '61, I was full of myself, I thought I could take anyone and anything on. But I was wrong. I realized, after watching footage of my rookie year, that I had a lot of holes in my game and the trainer was right. So I shut up, held my tongue, and put in one of the best seasons for the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers in '63. It was only a bad bounce of the ball that the Alsakan Flyers won that year."

She looked away and remembered the Flyers celebrating their win. She still felt sick to her stomach thinking about it. At least she'd helped coach the Smugglers to victory just a few weeks ago. That was something special, something worthy of the Limmie Hall of Fame.

"I pledge to help us move forward. We need to open our roster, open our team, then, only then, will we have the success we want to see come to Hapes," Meredith insisted.
That's what I was hoping to hear," Adanna replied as she leaned back in her chair. She was dedicated to bringing this team back to prominence, and now Meredith was now on board as well. With that issue cleared up, it was time to continue moving forward. Graves was indeed a player of renown. Adanna had played with her on Bakura, and had dealt with her a few other times during the later stages of her career and into her GM role. The former forward had found a nice niche on the bench for Nar Shaddaa, but was a worthwhile investment should they need a veteran. Perhaps she could shift back to forward if necessary? There could only be upside on a trade like that. She filed the thought away in her mind, something to bring up later.

"If we want to open the roster, as you say, let's take a look at our offense first," the GM said. "As you know, Wai Lin is our incumbent captain. However, I was shocked to see how poor she could be under stress last season, and perhaps even before that. She's not cut out to be a captain at this level. Or, at least not a major captain. She has an edge to her, but maybe as more of an assistant captain. I learned on Coruscant that multiple captains has its advantages. Helps improve communication amongst the troops. I propose that we demote her a step if we can find a better player to take over that mantle as captain."

She scanned the rest of the roster. The offense had been dreadful the past two seasons, barely escaping the cellar in the category both years after a strong debut in 274. Lin needed help, and the players whom she had around her were barely above average at best.

"Our offense is a mess," she concluded. "I think we could easily start over on that unit. Build it around Lin and Havelock. Those are our stars. We need to give them some firepower to work with. We should look to swing some trades, and try to build this unit from the ground up. Johnson could fetch some interest, and the Mastersons might gain some traction as a pair if the right team comes along."

She called up a roster on her datapad. It was the Senators, whom she knew might swing another deal. There weren't many offensive options they had who were female on the active roster. Sorcha Styles was the only one of some clout, but S'rily was going to hold onto the one piece of the Jayla Leed trade that had actually worked the prior season. Dauza Chary likely was off the table as well despite her struggles, so she moved on from that name as well. The Senators had a few up-and-coming prospects, but those were too dangerous to rely on as starters right now.

She flipped to another team roster. The Monarchs likely weren't interested, so she moved to the Mercs. Maybe there were options there, maybe not. Another flip. Miners? Nope. Starkillers? Not likely, since Martin Vigo probably would want too much for his established players at this point. Packers? Mess on defense, Adanna thought as she looked at their roster. Besides, the Packers didn't have the player archetypes the C-Bucs wanted, so she moved on again. The Storm could always look to gain another piece, but return would be questionable. Perhaps a development player or two? Ylesia probably wouldn't mess with a trade.

That left her with the other poor teams in the league, and then the Smugglers, who were not so poor. Meredith would know who she might get from Vehn, but that left the Patriots and the Rebels. The Rebels were trying to figure out who their next coach would be, and who knew what Reina Kether would be interested in. Aside from Avano Koobis on offense, the Patriots didn't have a female forward of note. The Rebels had Gemma Sal-Solo, but with their horrendous offense the prior few years, was she that much of an upgrade over Tilly Masterson at the left corner? Well, it might not hurt, Adanna reasoned, to at least ask. But it still wouldn't fix their problem. They had to find some small improvements here and there; blockbuster trades were likely off the table at this point.

She looked at the free agent list. There wasn't much here, since most players were either male or inexperienced. "The only option we have in free agency," she said, "is Kellie Dupont. I know you played with her, but she is no better than a reserve at this point in her career. Could bring veteran experience, though. If we get her in the right system, she might be a nice addition. However, I think we should look to find trades. Any ideas?"

Meredith shrugged her shoulders. The problems of the Consortium's only Elite League Limmie team were not going to be solved overnight, or to be honest, next week. They were looking at a severe talent problem and a recruiting pipeline that looked as clogged and as backed up as some of the personal hygienic systems Meredith had seen on Nar Shaddaa during much of her time there. Yeah, this roster was a problem and the problems didn't just start with the leadership issue, the problems seemed to percolate on down to the regular player, the support personnel, maybe even the water girl.​

​

"I don't think that trading right now is a viable option. The Smugglers, much like your Senators, like to hold on to their talent. Hold what they've got. If they discard a player its usually because they no longer fit the system, are too old, cost too much money, or have developed a bad case of malcontent behavior. Looking at the free agency list," Meredith paused as she examined the faces and stats of those contained therein, "there are a few players that if we had to round out our reserves we should pick up. I'm liking bringing Dupont in. She was serviceable with her time on the Smugglers. Not sure about her time with the Mercs. Didn't follow her career after she left the Vertical City. She plays hard, sometimes a little too hard, and knows how to hold her own. She won't win many one on one match-ups but she can slow other teams' units down. Moving on from her, there's always Nolli Uto to fill our corner back hole and if we need to move some names along on offense I'd wait until just before the draft to snag some people. Teams love to dump players that are eager to move on to other pastures."​

​

Meredith sighed and rubbed her temples. Hapes suffered during the regular season because they didn't take the game seriously. They hadn't in nearly 26 years. Back then, during the Final, Hapes had defeated Coruscant to take it all home for the Consortium. They hadn't been even close to the pinnacle since then. That said many things. Said that this organization needed the expertise of Chambers and Inviere and said that Hapes better take playing in the ELL seriously because hungry teams like Denon were always breathing on the league's proverbial neck hoping to get back into the dance.​

​

"We need to really make our mark this year. The league has got Hapes on a short leash. You know what its like to go into win-now mode. Well, we're not too far from that point. Honestly, we may have to roll with the roster we have. If that's the case I'll coach them up to the best of my ability," Meredith said with a determined gaze.​

​

"I just hope that's enough," Adanna said as she leaned back in her chair. She took another deep breath and stared at the Holo of her holding the Cup once again. How difficult it seemed right now to get back to that magical place called the Galactic Cup Final. She had been there twice in her career, both with teams that had been cast-off by the media. Now, if she wanted to win another Cup, she would have to trust her new head coach and hope that whatever roster she trotted out every week would be enough to contend. If they failed, it might mean the end of her GMing career, and she didn't want that.​

​

"We are in a hell of a bind," she finally commented after her period of silence. It's a good thing that we're both strong women, Meredith. Lesser beings would crumple under this pressure. But I know that we can make something happen. You in your coaching, and myself in the front office. We can change things around, but both of us need to give it our all. It sounds cliche, but that's the way we're going to have to build this team - with reckless abandon, with the competitive edge you keep mentioning. That's how we played, and it's how we need to build this team. But both of us can't afford to let that go in our current capacities. Promise me one thing, Meredith. You're going to grind the other team's gears for a full sixty minutes with whatever roster we can develop. I saw enough film of you to know that you never gave up. Now you need to do that again. As for me," she said, now staring at the head coach with a firm glance. "It's time I get out of Gark S'rily's shadow and prove to the galaxy that I belong here. It's all or nothing."​

​

Meredith stood and extended her hand to her boss, to her former rival, to the woman who could make it all happen for the Hapes C-Bucs.​

​

"I promise," Meredith replied knowing that Inviere's destiny and her own were now inexplicably​

intertwined.​

​

Tag:Jedi Gunny;Trieste​

​

 

GM Post
Commissioner’s office, Elite League offices, Coruscant

“Esther Gondorf for you, Commissioner,” the receptionist announced.

“Ah! Yes, of course. Send her in,” Fenrir Lokensgaard said. The Near Human attorney walked into the office, looking straight at her new boss. “Come in, come in. Forgive the mess. Haven’t redecorated yet. I’m thinking the place needs more green, but we’ll see how I feel. Have to get an interior decorator droid in here to simulate it for me. Please, sit, sit.”

This was Esther’s first meeting with Fenrir and she was not nearly so at ease as he was. Then again, she wasn’t the Commissioner. “You wanted to see me?” she asked.

“Yes,” Fenrir said, coming out from behind the desk to lean/sit against the front, “I’ve been told that you were quite instrumental to my predecessor. That you took care of things for her.”

“You could so that. As general counsel, I certainly had plenty to do,” Esther hedged.

“I would think so, organization of this size and all,” Fenrir said, “Which is—”

“Commissioner, I have the Rebels’ ownership on your desk comm,” his receptionist buzzed.

“Thank you, I’ll take it,” Fenrir said, holding up one finger to Esther to ask her to hold on as he picked up the handset on his desk, “Good morning—it is morning in Coronet City, isn’t it?...Yes, doing wonderfully. Getting settled in. So sorry we haven’t had a chance to speak since the Board meeting. It’s obviously been a whirlwind over here….Yes, I wanted to just touch base with you briefly. The Rebels are being demoted from the Elite League. I expect that you’ll find a nice home in the Premier League. Have a nice day.” He hung up almost immediately.

“You can’t demote them just like that!” Gondorf exclaimed, “The Board has to vote on that!”

“Firstly, I just did. Secondly, that’s why we have you, Esther,” Fenrir said with a rakish smile, “Now, I hate to cut this short, but I have a press conference in…” he checked his wall chrono, “…seven minutes.”

“Excuse me? When did this get set up?” Gondorf asked. She’d heard nothing about a press conference.

“I think my predecessor’s management style was a little too…formal. I’m going to try a little more…shall we say fluid approach? Beings in this League who would like to see their careers progress would do well to follow that model, Esther,” Fenrir said.

Esther Gondorf now understood what this meeting had been about. It had been no accident that she’d been privy to that call with the Rebels. “I believe I see what you mean,” she said.

“I thought you would. Everyone did say you were sharp,” Fenrir said, “Now, if you’ll excuse me? Press conference and all.”

Gondorf stood. “Of course.” She headed out. Before she could reach for the switch for the door, she was stopped.

“Oh, and I’d like to see your work on the Rebels by the end of the day,” Fenrir said, “if it’s not too much trouble…Deputy Commissioner.”

Esther looked over her shoulder. “Of course, Commissioner.”

---

“…and as a result I am proud that my first act as Commissioner is to admit the Ryloth Rough Riders as the newest member of the Skywalker Conference, taking the place of Corellia,” Fenrir told the press in his confident, but casual manner, “After all, Corellia and Rydonni Prime are so close together, it’s a wasted opportunity to expand the geographic footprint of the League. I look forward to attending my first Rough Riders game later this season…”

---

HSN Morning Headlines

• Free agency opens with a bang
• Corellia Rebels demoted from ELL
• Ryloth Rough Riders promoted to ELL
• Mando'ade Mercs sign Ciegarth (Kaleesh, Male, LHB) to 3 year contract extension
• Mando'ade mercs release Gunman Forp (Ishi Tib, Male, CB) to free agency
• Mando'ade Mercs release Sas'quetch (Wookie, Male, FB) to free agency
• Mando'ade Mercs in contract talks with Xander Darkrider (Human, Male, MF)
• Mando'ade Mercs sign Tsulkalu (Wookie, Female, CF) and Rajah Rolko (Shistavanen, Female, CF) to 1 year contract extensions
• Mando'ade Mercs sign Jolis Horonel (Human, Male, MF) to 2 year contract extension
• Kellie Dupont (Twi'lek, Female, HF, Mercs) signed as a free agent by Hapes
• Abbey Waters (Human, Female, C/FB) traded to Hapes by Coruscant in exchange for Anya Amasova (Hapan, Female, HF)
• Reid Livingstone (Human, Male, CB) traded to Fondor by Coruscant in exchange for Bernie McAllister (Human, Male, FB)
• Demetra Silkins (Human, Female, MF traded to the Alsakan by Coruscant for Kinn Numm (Sullustan, Male, CB), Orrin Calcutt (Kiffar, Male, CF), and Luka Mellot (Human, Female, DB)
• Interviews have begun on Nar Shaddaa for the vacant defensive coordinator position
• Tover Micjaa contemplates retirement after winning it all
• Vick McTodd (Amaran, Male, RCF) released by Nar Shaddaa
• Nolli Uto (Nautolan, Female, LCB, Ylesia Lightning) signed by Chandrila
• Saicle Gekkgon (Zabrak, Male, RCB) released by Chandrila
• Rikket Unhirst (Human, Male, MF, Zehava College) signed by Chandrila
• Bpa Mersac (Twi’le, Female, MF) released by Chandrila
• El-Enda Shamai (Cerean, Female, FF) released by Chandrila
• Marmu Ishana (Bimm, Female, FF) signed by Chandrila
• Hapes reportedly shopping Pam Bouvier (Hapan, Female, FB), Teresa "Tracy" de Vincenzo (Hapan, Female, RHF), Jill Masterson (Hapan, Female, RCF), Giacinta "Jinx" Johnson (Hapan, Female, FF), and Tilly Masterson (Hapan, Female, LCF) on the trading block

TAG: Bardan_Jusik CPL_Macja jcgoble3 Jedi Gunny JM_1977 Rebecca_Daniels Runjedirun Tim Battershell Vehn

 

GM Approved!







Name: Lilly Vehn
Gender: Female
Birth year: 259 ABY
Physical appearance: Slender, brown hair, green eyes, 5’7’’
Homeworld: Bakura
Relation to Team: Assistant Scout for the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers

Lilly Vehn is 18 years old. She’s a recent graduate of the Valor Foundation. She’s a teenager with a powerful family name and an even more powerful adopted mother. She’s lied about her age to Kaitlyn Vehn so as to stay in the system longer. She’s talked herself out of dangerous situations by being street smart. She’s bold, foul-mouthed, and slightly emotionally unstable. She’s a typical teenager in a rough urban environment. But that’s not where this story begins.

Lilly Weste was born in Atalanta during a time of unrest, during a time of civil war. Her parents were Unionists and proud supporters of the Maple Flag Republic, the rebel government that fought a hard, losing war against Kerry Trieste, her political party Fianna Fail, and her Bakuran Marines. The Westes pride and support for a dying cause ultimately forced them off-world. The Weste family narrowly escaped the tight cordon around the planet that the Bakuran Defense Force strictly enforced and made their way to a world beyond the Third Republic, beyond the reaches of Kerry Trieste: they made their way to Nar Shaddaa.

Many émigrés of the Bakuran Civil War went to Nar Shaddaa to escape a dying ideal, to escape the closing of a dark chapter in Bakura’s history. Most of the émigrés returned to Bakura following reconstruction but the Westes opted to stay and try their luck in the crime-infested Vertical City. For several years their luck went well. They prospered, they donated to charitable causes, they rebuilt their lives, and over time the troubles on Bakura were forgotten.

The Westes luck ran out when the family was involved in a horrific speeder accident along one of Nar Shaddaa’s major thoroughfares. A garbage truck, driven by a tired man at the end of a long shift, hopped over the center divider, went airborne, and rolled into oncoming traffic. The Westes never had a chance to avoid impact. When rescue operators arrived on the scene they were surprised to find Lilly still alive in the back-seat. Her initial diagnosis seemed promising but in the early hours after her rescue doctors determined that Lilly would never be able to walk again. The doctors at New Vertica General Hospital decided that Lilly would best be served by the Valor Foundation as she got older and that she seeks physical therapy treatment in the hopes that one day she could walk again.

Lilly spent the next six years of her life with the Valor Foundation. She got to know the physical therapy department real well. Just when it seemed as if she would never find a reason to live again she met Kaitlyn Vehn, herself disabled in a shuttle accident, and the two formed a strong, inseperable bond. Kaitlyn promised that Lilly would walk again and she upheld her promise by taking Lilly to the Jedi Temple on Ossus to be healed. The healing was successful and Lilly once again was walking on her own power. Shortly thereafter, Lilly was adopted by Kaitlyn in an informal ceremony and became a part of the well known, and well intentioned, Vehn family.

Lilly couldn’t have asked for a better situation. Given all that she has been through being a part of the Vehn family has been a dream come true. She has wanted for nothing. Still, her adoption was not enough to stop her from doing some research into her parent’s deaths. She needed answers and the answers weren’t coming. What she has recently discovered, what she has recently found, has changed her perception on the very family she has joined. Nothing seems safe. Nothing seems certain.

Lilly Vehn has come of age in a galaxy that has moved beyond the Bakuran Civil War, beyond old hatreds, beyond old prejudices. A new Chancellor sits atop the throne of the Third Republic. The Vehn family no longer runs the Roon Trade Organization. The Hutts have regained control of the Vertical City and in the midst all this change is a confused, angry, isolated teenager with only a violent, horrific memory of her parents keeping her going forward one step at a time.

Choices are looming and Lilly Vehn knows that time is running out to make her move. The only question lingering in the thick, putrid, suffocating air of Nar Shaddaa, is which choices will she make and will they bring success or ruin upon her family name?

---

New Vertica, Smugglers HQ, Nar Shaddaa

IC: Lilly Vehn




“Yeah, I want him gone,” Kaitlyn Vehn instructed.

Lilly yawned and looked out the window. She’d been called by Kaitlyn, she still couldn’t quite bring herself to call Kaitlyn “Mom”, to show up in her office ready to work. So she dressed the part, wearing a nice suit, trying to appear ‘grown up’, and feeling like she was failing miserably. So far, nothing had happened today. Boring. She sighed and looked over at the chrono on the wall. She’d only been in Kaitlyn’s office for a half hour and there was still a full day’s work ahead of her. At this rate she was going to die before anything happened.

“I don’t care if his agent is complaining, he’s off the squad!” Kaitlyn insisted as she slammed down her comlink. She looked down at her desk and rubbed her temples.

“Problems?” Lilly asked.

“McTodd’s agent is giving us a hard time for letting him go,” Kaitlyn said of the former third-round draft pick.

“He didn’t exactly help the team last year with his stellar play,” Lilly observed.

“Did he do much of anything last year?” Kaitlyn asked looking up at Lilly.

“Distractions, stunts, some key blocks, but nothing major. The offense really revolved around McCloud, Brousard, Lerouex, and a bit part by Gunn. You’re smart to let him go, Kaitlyn. McTodd is yesterday’s news,” Lilly said.

“You catch the headlines out of HSN this morning?” Kaitlyn said.

Lilly frowned and looked down at her datapad. “Uh, don’t think so. What’s up?”

“Tover is contemplating retirement,” Kaitlyn grumbled.


“Wouldn’t you if you’d done what you’d been asked to do? You know how hard it is to get back into the Finals for squads. Traditionally the Smugglers tend to ta-“ Lilly was cut off by a wag of the finger from Kaitlyn.

“I’d rather not be reminded of historical trends, thanks,” Kaitlyn said.


Lilly folded her arms across her chest and again looked over at the chrono. Only five minutes had elapsed. Maker, today was going to be long.


“Bored?” Kaitlyn asked.

“A bit,” Lilly responded.

Kaitlyn grunted and opened a desk drawer. She fumbled around in the drawer for a little bit. “I think I’ve got something that’s going to take all of your boredom away, Lilly?”

“Oh yeah?” Lilly asked.

Kaitlyn closed the desk drawer and brought a blaster pistol to bear on Lilly. Lilly’s eyes went wide. Her heart raced, she couldn’t move, she couldn’t get out of her chair, she wanted to scream but no sound came out.

“Your parents deserved to die, Lilly. They deserved to die,” Kaitlyn said as she squeezed the trigger.

Lilly screamed and awakened in a puddle of her own sweat. She was in her bed, she was safe, nothing, nobody, could get her here. She caught her breath, collected her thoughts, looked over at the chrono and saw that it was only minutes from when the alarm was supposed to go off. She hated waking up too early for her alarm even more than she hated hearing the aggravating buzzing that usually stirred her from a restful sleep.

She tried to shake off the after-effects of her nightmare but the image of being betrayed, of being shot by someone she loved, killed, that sent chills down her spine. She rolled out of bed, slipped on some clothes, and walked over to her dresser. She tapped a holo with her finger, smiled a little bit, as the video came to life. Her parents were showing her the new car they’d just purchased. They seemed so happy. So alive. So full of vigor. Of course, Lilly thought, this was taken the summer before the accident, before her entire life had changed in the blink of an eye. Somehow, someway, she’d started to forget about her parents, what they sounded like, the way they were around her. That hurt. That wasn’t easy.

Lilly killed the holo and sat back down on her bed. She buried her face in her hands and just breathed. That was all she could do right now. She was hours away from starting her new job with the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers. Hours away from working directly under Shay Dionne to scout the top talent of the Elite League, hours from the biggest opportunity of her young life. So why wasn’t she more excited? It wasn’t nerves. It wasn’t lack of sleep. It was the churning of information that made her sick to her stomach.

She took her face out of her hands and stared intently at the wall. She knew exactly what was wrong. What was wrong was that she’d found something out about her parent’s unfortunate deaths that challenged everything she believed about the day that had changed her life for several years. Their deaths were no accident. Their deaths were no random strike by the gods of the universe. Their deaths were planned, planned by one individual with a lot of power, a lot of respect on the Vertical City. Someone that was close to her. Someone she loved.

Lilly reached underneath her mattress and procured a small holdout blaster pistol. She felt surprisingly calm as she examined the familiar weapon. Yes, there would be a time to use her weapon. There would be a time to strike. That time was not now. That time would be later. She smiled as she put away her blaster and hopped in the fresher. Oh yes, this was all coming together so well. She was part of the Smugglers organization now. She had a bright future ahead of her. A future that was full of promise. .

The old idea returned, an idea that had been burning inside of her for weeks, ever since she had found out the truth. Now the truth was going to take its deadly toll. She had motive. She had a target. She had the wherewithal to disappear into the Vertical City never to be seen again but there was one last task she needed to accomplish before the 277 Elite League Limmie season drew to a close. One final act of loyalty to her parents. One final act of vengeance.

Kaitlyn Vehn needed to die.


Tag: No One