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Author	Topic: The Shadows of Conflict - Part Three: Assassination (FINALLY UPDATED -- The Dance, 4/17)
Ty-gon Jinn Registered: Jan '00	Date Posted: 2/2/04 9:58pm Subject: The Shadows of Conflict - Part Three: Assassination (FINALLY UPDATED -- The Dance, 4/17) - Date Edited: 4/17/05 9:51pm (18 edits total) Edited By: Ty-gon Jinn
	STAR WARS The Shadows of Conflict – Part Three: Assassination ***** Hello, everyone! Welcome to the third chapter of the Shadows of Conflict, “Assassination.” As usual, any advice on my writing is appreciated. (I know I advertised this as coming yesterday. You’ll have to forgive me; DRL seems to hate my JC persona, but I always return.) Prologue: One for the Annals of History Part 1: The Advent of War Part 2: The Past Rediscovered Part 3: Assassination Part 4: Behind Enemy Lines Part 5: Advancing the Fronts Part 6: Day of Reckoning Shadows of Conflict Short Stories: Uprising: The Story of the Krioni Revolution Of the Song of the Stars The Fool or the Fool Who Follows Him: Kilprenn and Loenik’s Story The New Order of the Grey: Expedition One And Blessings, Curses Say Quasi-SoC Stories for Challenges, Theme Threads, and Such: Perchance to Dream Hallucinations That the Rain Would Raineth Every Day The Calling States of Mind Anijara Crossings A Planet Forgotten Welcome Back to Coruscant Duel of the Fates Decisions, Decisions A Fuzzum Matinee Evacuation Protocol Alpha Oh, and on a related note… The Cost of Honor – Prologue One: One Breath The Cost of Honor – Prologue Two: The Red and the Black The Cost of Honor – Prologue Three: Beyond the Sea The Cost of Honor – Prologue Four: Travelers The Cost of Honor – Prologue Five: Ascension THE COST OF HONOR Home for the Holidays (Part One of the Hope for the Holidays Trilogy) Hope to Those Who Have None (Part Two of the Hope for the Holidays Trilogy) This New Year’s Eve (Part Three of the Hope for the Holidays Trilogy) "Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot. BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR." --Mark Twain, "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" Rating: PG-13 for sustained action/science fiction violence. Warning: I haven’t read ANY of the EU books, just as a warning, so if I stray too far, we can just call this AU. Time-frame: This is, with the exception of this first post (1000 years pre-TPM, I apologize for tacking that on), a post-Thrawn fic. It takes place before the Republic/Imperial Peace Accord. Character Focus: Original Characters, a few minor movie characters Summary: Strife runs rampant through the Allied Forces as tensions between Republicans and Imperials resurface. When an assassination rocks the Imperial ranks, the Allies break up and only the relationship between a Jedi of the Republic, an aging Imperial commander, and the boy they both helped train may be able to save them. Also, in the absence of the Imperial leader, a legend thought to be long dead returns to re-take control of the Empire. Disclaimer: I'm just writing this story for fun, and I have no intention of making money off of it. Star Wars, the Jedi, and other things that sound familiar from the movies or "Expanded Universe" books are property of George Lucas and Lucasfilm LTD. If something sounds familiar from another fanfic, it is the respective property of its author. Connections: This story is closely tied to the Round Robin "The New Order of the Grey," and is therefore tied to Rokangus' BattleMaster series and Era of Tribulation. Because of close ties there, it is tied to Casper_Knightshade's Dark Hope universe. It's not necessary to read those, but you can, if you would like to understand all the little references. Spoilers: None as of yet, but I’d be wary of Episode III spoilers as the date draws nearer. What has gone before… The New Republic has faced a new menace called the Union of Hasprian Emirates. Once the victims of a civil war on a small, outlying Republic planet, the Hasprians settled the war on their planet only to rise up and attack nearby systems, regardless of alliegance. They seceded from the Republic and formed a large Union of their conquered worlds. Seeing the need to combat this, the New Republic, the Imperial Remnant, the Hutts, and a group calling themselves the United Kingdom of Krioni, who had rebelled from the Hasprian Union formed the Quadruple Alliance. Kari Kilprenn, a retired Imperial, reenlisted to help the Empire in the war effort, to find himself in a teaching position, training young fighter pilots. It was his Eagle Squadron- Calven Y'saiah, Malcolm Suhail, Miri Laslos, Rojyr Kenfels, and Hobbe Ngumo- that saved the day at the Alliance's first victory, the Battle of Caedmon, while he himself had an attack of senility as his ship was destroyed in an asteroid storm. In the face of the Hasprian menace, the Alliance sent out a task force to retrieve an object that could decimate the enemy offensive. Calven Y’saiah was trained as a Jedi by the reluctant Purge survivor Tsilas Patmose so that he could enter an ancient fortress and claim the Emma-i-Liberati. The gem was claimed by the Alliance, and the Hasprian fleet was decimated. The Alliance has also been joined by a Federation of planetary militaries headed by the Kameer, ready to defend their territory once an advantage was given to them. The Hasprians, however, have bred a race of Rhodura, lizard-mounts that lead them on surface attacks. With the Hasprians withdrawn to their own territory under the leadership of Grand Admiral Rikarde Dion and Viceroy Jharrod Ishmael, the Alliance tries to rebuild the decimated economy of Tatooine and the Hasprians gear up for the next attack… __________ A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away… Penthesilia held the baby in her arms in the darkness. The child looked like her, sharing her milky-white complexion, her dark lips, and her colorless eyes. As she cradled her baby girl, she stroked the top of her head, seeing where the raven hair was beginning to grow in. She spoke to her, in a language that had never been heard offworld, singing an ancient lullaby in the low light of the flame. As she sang, she heard a sound. She looked up to see another woman standing there, a slim young lady who shared her prominent features. “My lady,” she whispered. “A ship has come.” “Do you recognize it?” “It bears the marking of the E’sithropes, my lady.” Penthesilia laid the child on the bed as she swore, an ancient expletive that took even the younger woman off guard. “Why would the E’sithropes be coming here?” “Their ship never returned,” the younger woman offered. As Penthesilia stood straight and tall, adopting a regal stance, she glared at the younger woman. “No ship has ever returned from this world.” “I think, my lady, that it is obvious why they have come.” Penthesilia slipped on a glove, a fitted network of leather straps that slid over her fingers and attached around the palm. As she secured it, she eyed the sharp metal at the end of each finger. The glove, in effect, gave her claws; the metal rods, each more than fourteen inches long and made of polished durasteel, fit snugly over her fingers. She flexed her fingers before her face, and sighed, “Yes, it is obvious. But they shan’t get her without a fight.” The younger lady picked up the baby and cradled her against her shoulder as Penthesilia strode out of the hut. The black forests of Niurdoro VI left the village blanketed in shadow, leaving the women in darkness as they moved through the forest. Their world orbited a great gas giant planet, so blue that it was nearly black, and between the planet and its rings, the system’s sun was completely eclipsed in the sky. The only light guiding the women through the roadless woodland was that of the fire outside the hut. As they moved through the trees, birds took wing, flying away from the movement, creating a stir, and Penthesilia prayed that the ship overhead wouldn’t notice. Chances were, however, than anything in the air would be unable even to see the fires burning. A storm was brewing, it seemed. What little window on space they had was rolling over with black storm clouds, and as the women walked, a mist began rising, a watery fog that obscured anything more than a few feet away. She reached a clearing, and, in the dimmest, furthest reflection of the firelight, saw a figure standing there. Standing tall was the figure of a man in dark robes, frozen motionless. She reached up to pass her fingers over the contours of his face one last time, shivering at the stony feel. She took a deep breath, and, sighing, pulled her hand back, and, claws extended, rammed her fingers, full-force, into the hood, punching the metal into the figure’s face. It cracked loudly, and as she twisted her hand and shoved it over, the figure’s head cracked and broke. Chunks fell away, while other pieces crumbled to dust. Looking to the sky, Penthesilia yelled in a Basic tongue, “There! Now there is nothing left for you to come and claim!” She heard something, and started to turn around. Whirling back, she thought she heard it come from the other direction. The sounds were all around her, whispering from the darkness. She began to stumble backwards, almost blindly. There was something behind her – a Devaronian figure, only one of the stone figures they kept around the village. She pressed her back against it, certain at least of where she was by it, and peered around its side. Lightning flashed above, and a loud peal of thunder followed. In the flashing light, she saw the glint of metal. She motioned for the younger woman to step forward, and, tears in her eyes, she kissed her infant’s forehead. A footstep came up behind the stony Devaronian. Penthesilia began muttering frantically. “I told you. There is nothing left for you to come and claim. He has been sent away from the land of the living; you saw me destroy what was left!” She heard the unmistakable sound of a metal weapon as it grazed the side of the figure. She muttered to herself in her own ancient tongue as the younger woman with the child began backing away. Something seemed to whisper to Penthesilia; she knew not whether it was the figure behind her, the wind, or a trick of her own mind. “No new life is to be created unless it is authorized and controlled.” She began to sputter. “She is not yours to claim. She is mine!” “She was his,” the whisper spoke, “he, who has gone, he who belonged to us.” Penthesilia slammed her eyes shut, then burst from her hiding place, screaming. Slashing her hands wildly, she flinched when her raging claws were parried by a broadsword. Looking at her opponent, she saw what she had feared. A man was there, in black robes. She could not see his face, though beneath the cowl, a bit of flesh was visible around the neck. The flesh bore tattoos, large, winding marks forming elaborate symbols. The symbols were of Cantaspher, the coloring was of Korriban. He held in his hands a tizona, a bladed weapon with a fine point. She knew the significance of every fiber of his being; she had absorbed it from the father. But this was not the father; he had no right to claim the child! The blade rushed at her again, and she ducked. The metal buried itself in dusty stone before the Devaronian crumbled entirely. Penthesilia slashed at the warrior’s back, eliciting a sharp noise of pain, but it seemed to do more damage to the robe and cloak than to the man. The younger woman turned and fled, running over the terrain with the child cradled in her arms. The lightning flashed as she stumbled over a bluff into the firelit clearing. More women stood there, around the fire, all of the same coloring as Penthesilia and her child. The milky pale skin and raven black hair stood out in stark contrast to the orange glow of the fire, the little color that existed in the black forest. The mist was heavy now, and the edges of the kindling were beginning to be wet; the fire was dwindling. “What is happening, Cytherea?” asked one of women. “They have come,” Cytherea said breathlessly. “They came for the child.” Lightning flashed again, and the women could see Penthesilia beyond the trees, attempting to follow Cytherea with a cloaked and hooded warrior following, sword raised. The women gasped as Penthesilia stumbled into the clearing, still slashing desperately at the menacing figure, who parried the strokes of the claws with his blade. The claws were dusty; undoubtedly, several stone figures had met their demise in the scuffle. Tears stained Penthesilia’s eyes as she swiped again, but the warrior had turned his sword; she had no idea that any material was capable of it, but her claws were shorn through, and most of their length fell to the ground. Staring up, she looked in horror as the clouds parted and a ship descended. A second figure, this one feminine, cloaked and hooded in the same fashion, stepped forward. Penthesilia knew her on sight, though she could not place a name; the father had known her, and she had absorbed the recognition. When she had drained the life from the father, his culture, his knowledge, his life had come with it. She knew of the union of Cantaspher and Korriban; she knew of the Va’der and the path of revenge; she knew why they had come, but she refused to believe it. The hooded woman observed Penthesilia, kneeling in the now-spongy ground before the warrior’s sword, then immediately turned her attention to the other women. She stepped forward, singling Cytherea out immediately. She stepped forward. For Cytherea, the world seemed to go black, and then the child was in the arms of the hooded woman. She began to struggle, to try to take the child back, but she felt as though her limbs were made of metal, and she could not move. Penthesilia was now at her side, reaching, as she was, for the child, but nothing moved the woman who held it. The rain began falling, and the fire fizzled and died. The water began running down the raven hair and cloaks, the child began to cry. The same voice that whispered to the minds of the women spoke; “Take her aboard the ship; she is ours now.” The hooded woman turned and boarded the ship, the child still in her arms. Putting away his sword, the warrior turned to follow. Penthesilia had been reduced to tears; she sobbed loudly. The warrior stood on the ramp as it closed in the belly of the transport. “No ship has ever returned from this world.” Penthesilia’s earlier words now whispered to her on the winds, and she lunged forward, arms outstretched toward the ship, as if she could stop the engines by pure will. The ship lifted off of the ground, and began a slow ascent. Penthesilia wailed, and the other women rushed to restrain her. The ship began to gather speed, climbing higher. As a loud sob broke through her lips, Penthesilia grabbed onto air as if it were material, and her blackened fingernails dug into the skin as she held tightly onto nothing. The ship jolted and slowed to a stop, hovering over the woods. The engines were started again, and the ship tried to keep ascending, only to have their ascent hampered. It was as if they were stuck in a tractor beam pulling them inward. Penthesilia slipped out of the grasp of the women in the rain, and her feet slid across the slick mud, as if she was being pulled. She stretched out her hands again, and she felt herself sliding forward, into the rain… even upward. She felt her feet leave the ground; in the darkness, in the rain, she felt herself floating at least a foot above the ground, suspended between her home and the ship that held her daughter. She cried out again, desperate to keep some hold. A light shone down upon her from the ship, blocking out any light that anyone could have seen. It seemed to shine through her, piercing her very existence. She found herself unable to move, but her grasp on her daughter was still strong; she was held, suspended, over the ground, unable to do anything, even to let go. She cried again as the light streamed down on her; what light could do to a creature like herself was painful. She had lengthened her own life a hundred times over, and absorbed hundreds of lives’ worth of energy and knowledge; she was an assiliamorph, and had absorbed from her victims every facet of their being, yet she could not absorb the light. The energy was too direct, it seemed to pierce, to burn, and to penetrate. Yet nothing could hamper her grip. Tear streamed down her face, mixing with rain, falling to the ground. Cytherea watched as everything faded but Penthesilia, hanging helplessly on nothing as the ship held itself over the treetops. She began crawling forward, toward Penthesilia, to help her, when her hand fell upon something. Picking it up, she could feel a metal cylinder. It was grooved, with what seemed to be a switch on one side. Pushing it forward, she jumped in surprise as a light issued from its end, red as blood, and jumping forward with a snarling hiss. She dared not pass her hand through the light, she feared getting too close to its end and burning herself. The rain seemed to have no effect on the burning light. It hummed as her hands trembled, and she held it in front of her, away from her. The voices on the wind began to speak again, speaking, whispering, screaming at her. It was suddenly as though the wind and the rain had caused the whole world to spin around her; she was aware of voices on all sides, whispering to her all at once. It is the only way, they said. Do it – do it now – finish this, end it, finish her the only way now – now – it is time, finish – the only way – do it now – kill her – finish her – you must end it – now – the only way – she must die. Cytherea was crying, her eyes bloodshot and stinging as the rain washed down her face, mingled with tears. The voices spoke louder, louder, whispering at the volume of shouting, as she became aware of Penthesilia again, before her, hanging in midair. Blindly, she lunged forward, and, slamming her eyes shut, leapt up and thrust the light-shaft downward. This light truly did pierce Penthesilia. Her crying ceased; her mouth hung open. She gasped, suddenly unable to breath. Something flashed in her eyes; the colorless grey flashed a sickly yellow. Her limbs began to droop; she trembled a bit, and then her body fell apart, collapsing to dust as the stone figures had done, vanishing as if she had never been there. The light fell from above her and buried itself in the mud; the edge of the cylinder only barely protruded. No one dared to touch it. The ship’s engines groaned as it tried to ascend; despite the accelerators, the ship was beginning to descend again. The hooded woman sat at the controls, shouting. “We’re losing altitude!” The warrior stood behind her. “Then gun the damned engines again!” As the ship jerked forward again, something flashed where Penthesilia had once been suspended; a pale purple light shot forth with wind that not even the storm could compare with. The women ducked, the forest shook, the energy shot out over all the area. Stone figures crumbled, a tree was knocked over, birds took wing and flocked out of the way of the energy en masse. Suddenly, it seemed to be coming back as the women all cowered, their minds overloaded with what seemed the presence of Penthesilia. The light receded, the wind blew back, and with a loud snap, the light was gone. The ship shot away like a bullet from a slug-thrower, and the women found themselves alone in the mud. The animals of the black forest had not settled down, and their flapping, scurrying, squawking sounds echoed from afar. The child had been taken by the E’sithropians, and the mother had been killed. The storm began to wane. ***** A set of heavy metallic claws hewed at the rock that had hardened over the years. Bits of old clay began chipping away as the claws hammered down upon it again and again and again. Finally, a large enough piece fell away, and a metal cylinder lifted out of the block. What was once mud now littered the ground in a million splintered shavings, and the E’sithropic weapon began to levitate, moving over the ground. As it floated, it spun over its end, and the red blade ignited once more. It finally landed in the hand of Cytherea, noticeably older, though still as stately as all the women ever had been. She had not known what she was doing when she extended her hand, but the weapon had skittered out of the rock and rose sharply to glide smoothly into her hand, seemingly of its own accord. “The weapon has been reclaimed,” she muttered to herself. “It is time for us to meet; my own time draws short.” The women around her, most younger than she, though of their real ages there was no telling, gazed at her, awaiting orders. “Recall the corvunem,” she announced, and began walking into her hut. She sat down on the straw cot and closed her eyes, meditating, nearly in a trance. The women had been amazed at the order to recall the corvunem – such a thing had not been done for centuries. Yet they were not to question her authority. Cytherea was regarded as a Prophetess, one who could see the fate of their race. The corvunem of which she spoke were birds, birds who, as it is said, were capable of speaking to each other through the fabric of space itself. The women, being assiliamorphic, were able to absorb the knowledge that the birds had gathered, though to recall the corvunem would mean to have all the birds abandon their watchtower, the eyrie at the top of the highest mountain. Cytherea breathed deeply, trying to see beyond their own world, their reign in exile, to the darkness beyond, to Korriban. A blackbird lighted on her window; she did not see it, with her eyes closed, but she felt it, she knew it, and immediately, she began to understand its thoughts. Things that it had seen by hearing it from others elsewhere began to take shape in her own mind. A rain of blackbirds came streaming from the distant peak and began flocking over the village. The women standing outside let them light upon their arms, then began carrying them toward Cytherea. For hours, they waited while Cytherea sat with her eyes closed, corvunem all around her. One of the birds had died, all its organs failing as it was drained. Cytherea’s eyes opened, and the women jumped slightly. “I am afraid, ladies, that we have been sadly mistaken.” She strode out of the hut, and began walking away from the village. She picked up a torch, and began striding through the forest. The women behind her picked up torches of their own, and the entire village joined in the procession, the ancient rite of the march through the forest to declare the end of one’s time. “The child is dead; she has been dead for some years now.” “Then it is done?” one of the women asked, not diverting her eyes from straight ahead as they walked. “No,” Cytherea said, keeping her chin up as the proceeded through the woods. “She is not the last. Time has passed; the child matured. She married. She had children.” “Children?” a woman at the end of the line repeated. “A daughter,” Cytherea sighed, “but first, a son.” This surprised the women; they had never before known of the birth of a son among their race. Their own fathers had been outlanders, and the few that had children had those who were fathered by outlanders. A male in their line had been unheard of. “It appears we were also mistaken about the united front of Korriban and Cantaspher. The E’sithropes have been at war with themselves and with others for thousands of years. It seems that what is left of their race has dedicated itself to either the E’orqest, the path of peace they had once known, or the Va’der, the revenge of the Cantaspherians.” She hesitated. “The son has chosen the Va’der.” The women murmured. “And the daughter?” one dared to ask. “I do not know,” she said. “I have not felt the presence of the daughter since shortly after her birth, and I did not feel anything from the corvunem.” She thought immediately of one woman who had dealt extensively with the birds. “Can you even tell me her name?” The woman of whom she was thinking spoke up, but was of no help. “It is… mystery, my lady.” They reached another large clearing, where a bluff gave way to a sharp stone face, almost a small cliff. Beneath the bluff was a large brushpile, and nearly three dozen stone figures stood around it. The women broke their formation as they entered the clearing, and Cytherea turned to face them. “Ladies, this daughter represents the refounding of our race, the establishment of darkness in its purity outside our world, the breaking of exile for reign. It is time that we uphold what is right by her. If the son has chosen the Va’der, then it is revenge he shall have, and we shall pledge ourselves to be agents of vengeance for the daughter. If anyone should come to claim us as warriors, we will be ready, for we shall swear fealty, upon this… Sithian weapon… to the descendents of the girl, until the end of time, when the foundations of the galaxy are unmade and all the universe is changed.” “You realize, Cytherea,” one of the women said, “That you will be bringing the curse of Dathomir upon us.” “Curse those witches!” Cytherea spat. “Yes, I am well aware. But this will be to our advantage, for we shall all be at the disposal of the descendant, whether we be alive or dead.” “And as for the daughter, and her place in the curse…” “Death is the one place the E’sithropes do not dare to go! That blood flows in our mistress’ veins; let her not need to dare. Let the curse reinforce her being, and Korriban be her home until the foundations are altered! All of us, let us swear to this, and may our children be held to it.” Cytherea held out the weapon, and, slowly, hesitantly, one by one, the women laid their hands upon it. “It is done,” then, Cytherea said with a weak smile. “Good. For it is I who spilled that blood, and if I cannot pledge us all to the atonement of it, then my life has been forfeit!” She raised her other hand, wearing metal claws. “My own life, and this life!” She punched slammed the claws into the back of the head of a stone figure, a man that crumbled. “And this!” The head of another man went flying into the dirt. “And this one!” A third, this one a Twi’lek, fell over, cracking, as large chunks were swiped from his side. “It is done! We are pledged to the legacy of the Sith Maiden!” With that, she picked up the torch she had set aside and thrust it into the brushpile. The women all placed their torches in the brushpile, and watched as the flames began to crawl over the kindling. Cytherea climbed to the top of the bluff, and stared down at the fire that seemed to be licking at her heels. She began muttering to herself. “Death is the one place the E’sithropes dare not go… but they do not realize that it is beyond that veil, in the waking twilight, that the darkness is strongest.” As the flames licked up past her toes, she lifted her head. Her eyes were glowing. The grey pupils were radiating a bright yellow that seemed to fill her whole eyes, to illuminate the rest of her. As she spoke, her voice deepened, to the point where it seemed to echo itself. “The Oath of Cytherea has brought about new dimensions to the Age of Darkness! Its end will not be ours!” She raised her arms high, and in the light of the fire and of her eyes, she cried, “The coming of light heralds one end, the end of those of the Va’der, but a second darkness shall come, one for us, when we shall be called upon!” The light in her eyes was flashing now, never waning back to grey but pulsing yellow light. He voice continued to deepen as she panted heavily, and her breathing became ragged. “Watch Korriban, O birds of Niurdoro! And wait for the coming of the daughter’s descendents, you daughters of darkness!” Her eyes seemed to glaze over, and she gasped. She stumbled, lightheaded, and teetered on the sheer face of the bluff. Raising her eyes to the blackened skies, she began to laugh. It started slowly, in giggles, and soon swelled to a laugh that was nearly haunting. She laughed in earnest, loud and long. The deep laugh reached a fevered pitch; the pulsing light in her eyes hit a frenzied frequency. She cackled, her laughter disturbing the wildlife all around. And she crumbled, falling to dust as if she had never been there. The winds began blowing outward from the bluff. The women ducked under their arms, their billowing sleeves covering their powder-white faces. This winds began whispering, whirling around all the women. It seemed as though they were names being spoken. The women heard hundreds of names as they slipped past their ears on the wind. Fawni-Amylle-Nebula-Juna-Luna-Faradi, they seemed to whsiper, Sarali-Naressa... and then the voice that whispered was unmistakably that of Cytherea. Dorolee. And, as though the roll had been taken, the silence resumed. The corvunem began flying away, back toward the highest peak. __________ EDITED at the suggestion of Casper_Knightshade to place the story information up before the first post... -----signature----- I'm alive! And I'm back!! Who'd have thought it, eh? Assassination: http://boards.theforce.net/message.asp?topic=14787030 The Cost of Honor: http://boards.theforce.net/message.asp?topic=13443744
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Casper_Knightshade Registered: Oct '00	Date Posted: 2/3/04 1:40pm Subject: RE: The Shadows of Conflict - Part Three: Assassination (First Post, 2/2)
	And you see: my suggesting makes the post all the more excellent! That was a good take on what I've written so far, Ty-gon. Even though I haven't really nailed down everything in terms of the E'sithorpian past I find it a hoot nonetheless that folks give it a go and see what they can come up with, which is interesting always and enjoyable to read. By the sounds of it, we have our own little off shoot tribe of Sith starting down their own path of destiny. And it appears their ancestry may be in conflict with one another in the present time with the Hasperians. It makes me wonder if Calvin figures into this. Great start! -----signature----- The Sith Hunters http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/29378838/p1 ------ Download the first three volumes of the Gessa Saga on ZIP! http://thegessasaga.tripod.com/
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Miana Kenobi Title: Pacific RSA & NSWFF Mod On Limited Time Registered: Apr '00	Date Posted: 2/3/04 10:05pm Subject: RE: The Shadows of Conflict - Part Three: Assassination (First Post, 2/2)
	All I can say is... There be some freaking sutff going on! I'm a bit lost, but when am I not?? Excellent start, Ty! -----signature----- President of San Diego FanForce He tini nga whetu e ngaro I te kapua iti. Dyslexics of the world, UNTIE!
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Ty-gon Jinn Registered: Jan '00	Date Posted: 2/6/04 11:22pm Subject: RE: The Shadows of Conflict - Part Three: Assassination (First Post, 2/2)
	Casper: As I’ve said, there are things in my fic that tie to things in Rok’s stuff, and things in his that tie back to you, so I had no choice except to tie mine back to yours, but, honestly, I think I like it that way better. You’re a master storyteller, and any EU I throw myself into had better be worthy of a Nadja or a Naressa. As for Calven and the Sith Maiden legacy… well, I guess that could be one way to take it, yes… Miana: We’re all lost. That post came up out of the blue and will be explained later on… suffice it to say, if you haven’t delved into Casper’s stuff, that the most powerful Sith beings, both of the Sith Lords and the Sith race, came, at the end of the long Sith Wars, from a single family, and the line of the Sith Maidens started with a girl called Mystery, cut off from the Force. We shall see how that lineage figures in later on… but in this story we see the beginning of the fulfilling of the Oath of Cytherea, and the ancestors of the Sith Lords may yet have some part to play… [Cue Ominous Laughter…] __________ Monument Square was packed full; only a few times had it seen such a crowd since the toppling of the Statue of Palpatine, and not since that fateful day had the crowd been so celebratory. The place had been, in the time of the Old Republic, the place that had been home to thousands of press conferences and dignitary-visits, and the New Republic had taken up the tradition, but it had never been so festive. From the buildings all around hung banners, the standards of the New Republic, the Imperial Remnant, and the Associated Hutts, and a flag of the United Kingdom of Krioni fluttered from the building at one end. On the other was a great dais where the monument once had been. Behind the dais was a large curtain, and against it hung several smaller banners, standards of the nine chief systems of the Kameer Federation, newly reclaimed from the Hasprian Union by strength of their own militaries. Both Imperial and Republican troopers guarded the dais and the entrances to the square, most from an elite Imperial security force. Small tents lined the sides of the platform that made up the bulk of the square, offering concessions to the crowd, who had come to see each dignitary from each body represented give a speech. Vendors were on hand to sell pallies, ruby bliels, blue milkshakes, shaak nuggets, muja strips, and fried pavenders. Clear blue sky shone down on the crowds; the area of the square had been blocked to air traffic to make room for the fireworks that would come once dark had come. Already, it was sundown, and the blue sky was darkening. It had been nearly half an hour since Mon Mothma of the New Republic had addressed the crowds. Kouza D’wylfe, Grand Moff of the Imperial Remnant, was to be next. The great celebration heralded the defeat of the Hasprian Union. The battle of Tatooine had been, for the Hasprians, a miserable failure, and, for the Grand Alliance, a great victory. With the single fall of a tiny, robotic hammer, the Hasprian war fleet had been decimated, leaving only the hyperdrives intact, and, though the ships were able to jump away, it was not known how many could be repaired, how many would have to be rebuilt, or how many were scrapped altogether. On steps that led through the curtain to the rear of the dais, Grand Moff D’wylfe was leafing through notes he had scribbled to help him through his speech. Commander Kari Kilprenn, who had been the instructor of the now-famous Eagle Squadron, and his close friend, Colonel Coren Loenik, were to accompany him out onto the dais, and D’wylfe’s wife, Rebecca, was helping him organize his notes. A great clock on the face of a nearby building began striking the sign of another Galactic Standard Hour, and D’wylfe began backing up the stairs to advance ahead of Kilprenn and Loenik. “Thank you, Rebecca.” “You’ll do great!” she called after him. He smiled back at her, and continued up through the curtain. As he stepped toward the podium on the edge of the stage, the crowd erupted in applause. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, “Beings of all races, this is a great day for the Alliance! The dignity of the Empire has been restored, and with it the splendor of the Republic! With the Hutts and the Krioni, we have driven the Hasprians back to their own space, and it is now just a matter of time until we can dive beyond their borders to rescue our systems from them!” In truth, there were plans for no such attack; the Viceroy of the Hasprians had gone behind the back of the Grand Admiral of the War Fleet and offered peace to the Allies, at least for the time being, in a mutual trade agreement. To launch a full-scale border assault now would be a war crime. But none of the Allies had any doubt that it would only be a matter of time, and that as soon as the Hasprians slipped up, they would find the limits of Hasprian territory unguarded. “Right now, each Allied government has sent crews to both Tatooine and Bespin to help in the rebuilding!” There was little new in the speech. They had heard the same from Chancellor Mothma, though her speech, too, had progressed toward a “State-of-the-Alliance” address, and there was no doubt that the Imperial perspective would be different. Yet, when word of the rebuilding was brought up, the people applauded again. It was at that moment that something happened that no one at once understood. There was the sound of a small explosion, and another, and another, and another, in rapid succession. No one saw the source of the sound, and no one ever came to claim they had seen the bolts. But it was clearly a blast of energy, fired from a blaster rifle. A fiery burst impacted on the curtain, and the standards of the Kameer Federation planets began to fall over. The delegates of those systems jumped to steady them as the curtain billowed back, burning holes in it. It had torn from several of its supports and was nearly collapsing as the delegates fled down the back stairs. As the curtain was caught by the blast and began billowing backward, the second shot fell below, and the podium exploded, shattering instantly. As the people screamed and the crowd began running in panicked, frenzied, chaos, the blackened shards of Tumaco wood flew away from the dais and high into the air. The guards on the dais rushed to the front and began scanning the crowds; the guards at the entrances had drawn their weapons, and no one was leaving. The third blast hit D’wylfe squarely in the chest, and he staggered backward a step, driven, doubled over by the impact, before tottering over and taking a headfirst dive onto the floor of the dais. A fourth shot glanced the floor near where D’wylfe lay, forcing Kilprenn and Loenik off their feet. The curtain was now completely in flames, and Kilprenn’s scream was caught by D’wylfe’s microphone as the curtain broke its last support and came crashing down. It was in the confusion that something darted from the side of the stage, and, in a crouching bound like a perootu cat, leapt across the stage. When the dark form left the side of the stage, S.C. Surtic, captain of the Imperial guard, had whirled around, weapon in hand, but by the time he saw the shape, it had already crossed the three men lying on the stage. He took a shot, but the black form slipped over the edge of the dais as flames shot up brightly and the bolt was hopelessly off-target. Loenik struggled to his feet, and was trying to rouse D’wylfe. Kilprenn tried to stand, but was having trouble. Rebecca had climbed the stairs, but could not get through the flames, which raced up from the horrible pile of tapestry; the heat was unbearable, and she had to climb back down, though the security forces that had jumped down the sides were trying to move her back into the offices of the New Republic. They had a hard time convincing her to do anything, for she was screaming and sobbing and reaching back toward the flames, and eventually, the dragged her beyond the transparisteel doors, to stand with the delegates of the Nine Worlds of the Kameer Federation. The crowd, unable to leave, had collapsed upon itself like rollicking waves in an inland bay, and beings were trampled underfoot. Security forces had managed to drag D’wylfe and Kilprenn off the front of the dais and hold back the crowd, which was too terrified of the blaze on the platform to try anything against the direction. “Get medics!” Captain Surtic screamed. He bent down and looked at Kilprenn, who had a wild, but very much alive, look in his eyes. The fire seemed to have spooked the old man, who seemed to be muttering something about jinns and fire-beasts from the foundations of the galaxy, then, when he could lock onto Loenik’s face, about another blast, about Monument Square, Tsiml or something he couldn’t quite discern. Surtic bent down to examine D’wylfe, but the look in his eyes was completely different one than Kilprenn’s, a milky-white, glossed look that seemed to peer into another world entirely, unmoving, unblinking. Surtic pressed his fingers to the eyelids and pulled them downward. They slid down easily, already beginning to grow cold, and he closed them before looking up to see the medics arriving from an airspeeder that had touched down next to the dais. Another pulled up above to extinguish the fire. Over the roar of the speeders and the din of the crowd, no one could hear what he was shouting. “What?” yelled the medic. “I said the Grand Moff is dead!” -----signature----- I'm alive! And I'm back!! Who'd have thought it, eh? Assassination: http://boards.theforce.net/message.asp?topic=14787030 The Cost of Honor: http://boards.theforce.net/message.asp?topic=13443744
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Miana Kenobi Title: Pacific RSA & NSWFF Mod On Limited Time Registered: Apr '00	Date Posted: 2/6/04 11:39pm Subject: RE: The Shadows of Conflict - Part Three: Assassination (UPDATED -- The Title Event, 2/6)
	Whoa. That didn't go too well. AWWW... and I was just beginning to LIKE the Old Moff! Great start, Ty! -----signature----- President of San Diego FanForce He tini nga whetu e ngaro I te kapua iti. Dyslexics of the world, UNTIE!
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Casper_Knightshade Registered: Oct '00	Date Posted: 2/7/04 7:45pm Subject: RE: The Shadows of Conflict - Part Three: Assassination (UPDATED -- The Title Event, 2/6)
	I guessed slightly right? Cool! Cue that bass drum because the Republic, the Empire, and everyone else just got hit with some heavy beats. Right off the bat, we're getting a good idea about 'Assassination'. But its only the title, though: obviously there is brilliantly more. Great stuff! -----signature----- The Sith Hunters http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/29378838/p1 ------ Download the first three volumes of the Gessa Saga on ZIP! http://thegessasaga.tripod.com/
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Ty-gon Jinn Registered: Jan '00	Date Posted: 2/7/04 11:04pm Subject: RE: The Shadows of Conflict - Part Three: Assassination (UPDATED -- The Title Event, 2/6)
	Miana: Really? I thought him a decent chap way back in The Advent of War. Ah, well. Casper: Yeah, this is a heavy beat indeed. There is more... they get to probe a bit INTO the assassination, and that's where the fun begins... or it's where SOMETHING begins, let's leave it at that. __________ “Hasprian Fleet Immobilized Over Tatooine The Battle of Tatooine has been declared a victory for the Allied forces, with the enemy ships effectively disabled by what scientists are now investigating, the so-called ‘Gem of Deliverance’ claimed off the new Hasprian outpost of Morgyst by Operation Deliverance…” —from “New Republic Today,” Vol. CXLVI, Issue XXXIV, Coruscant Publications “Hasprians Announce Major Disability in War Fleet The Hasprian Grand Admiral today announced that his own flagship, the Ignes Inferorum, has suffered major injury in jumping to hyperspace through the planet of Tatooine. While waiting to see if it can be repaired, the Viceroy’s ship Pugil Breves will take the place as Hasprian flagship…” —from “New Republic Today,” Vol. CXLVI, Issue XXXVII, Coruscant Publications “Hasprian Troops Overrun By Kameer Armies The world of Kecyrk stands liberated; the armies of the Kameer have overpowered the Hasprian troopers when the Republic delivered word that Hasprians reinforcements would be unable to arrive at the surface. The Kameer are now standing by to send aid to the other world of the federation…” —from “New Republic Today,” Vol. CXLVI, Issue XXXIX, Coruscant Publications “Xallaiman Reclaim Transport Hub of Menelandra Menelandra, the Mid-Rim transport hub recently overrun by Hasprian forces has been taken back by its own people, the Xallaiman. Throwing their aid to the Kameer Federation, the vast resources of Menelandra have given the Federation greater support than was first imagined…” —from “New Republic Today,” Vol. CXLVI, Issue XL, Coruscant Publications “Gem of Deliverance Marks Reopening of Trade Routes In an odd play, the Hasprian Union has reopened trade routes with the New Republic, sealing the negotiations with their claiming of the now-famous Emma-I-Liberati. Though there is little now that an enemy could do with it, Allies are looking to evidence stockpiles for the contraband substance known as Liquid Acceleration that protected the fleets…” —from the “Imperial Register,” Vol. CCXXVI, Issue LVI, Niruan Publishing “Hasprian Control Falls on Tarva, Alambil, and Paravel Troops arriving from Kecyrk, as well as reinforcements from the New Republic, have helped the beings of the Tarva system to overcome Hasprian control, while, at the same time, forces of Menelandra and the Imperial Remnant succeeded in liberating Alambil. Hutt-enhanced Krioni fighters were on hand to aid in the revolution of the Paravel system, though it seemed they were not needed…” —from “New Republic Today,” Vol. CXLVI, Issue XLI, Coruscant Publications “Chiss Empire Declares Military Allegiance with Hasprian Union Reversing their position, the Chiss have declared their intent to support the Hasprians, no longer as an occupied territory but as a militant ally. While the Hasprian fleet is repaired, the Chiss have taken to patrolling the Hasprian borders, citing lack of support from the Imperial Remnant for their change in position…” —from “Eye Magazine,” Vol. CVI, Issue IM, Coruscant Publications “Mearas, El Rico, and Orual liberated by Federation Armies Eight of the nine worlds pledged to the overthrow of the Hasprians have overthrown the Hasprian holds on their own people, as Mearas, El Rico, and Orual join the free peoples under the Federation, which will choose, after the war is over, whether to rejoin the Republic, the Empire, the Krioni, or the Hutts. All eyes now turn to the world of Leonora, whose former delegate to the New Republic will represent them in the Allied Conference…” —from “New Republic Today,” Vol. CXLVI, Issue XLIII, Coruscant Publications “IMPERIAL MOFF ASSASSINATED Grand Moff Kouza D’wylfe was shot, late in the afternoon, in Monument Square, during the press conference being called the Allied Conference, announcing the success of the Grand Governmental Summit. Medics were called to the scene, but the leader of the Imperial Remnant had passed away…” —from “New Republic Today,” Vol. CXLVI, Issue XLIV, Coruscant Publications “D’WYLFE FALLS, KELSIK ORDERS GRAND INQUISITION Reports from S.C. Surtic, Captain of Imperial Security, have prompted Commander Gordian Kelsik to order a full-scale investigation of the death of Grand Moff Kouza D’wylfe, who was apparently shot last evening in the middle of his speech. It seems various suspect circumstances have revealed themselves…” —from the “Imperial Register,” Vol. CCXXVI, Issue LXI, Niruan Publishing “A Survivor’s Tale Imperial Commander Kari Kilprenn is currently being treated at one of Coruscant’s finest medical facilities for injuries sustained during the attack on the life of Grand Moff Kouza D’wylfe. While tragedy has struck at the heart of the galaxy with this story, with no one has it struck closer than with Kilprenn, who survived a similar attack at that very spot on Monument Square on the life of one Jo’nar Tsiml, and Imperial scientist turned New Republic dignitary. Kilprenn was then treated for burns sustained by a falling heavy tapestry which also trapped newswoman Dezzia Kerr; today, doctors tell us Kilprenn’s most serious injury is a broken leg…” —from “Eye Magazine,” Vol. CVI, Issue MI, Coruscant Publications “… and from the shadow of conflict will rise a new threat. The safety of the galaxy will be compromised, and new Jedi must rise. While the greatest of evils still waits, salvation may be hidden in time. To find it is to mark the loss of great men, but in the division, the legends return…” —from Jedi Prophecy, recorded in the Journal of the Whills “And, ladies and gentlemen, I know that I typically make jokes about figures in the news during this portion of my program, or make comments about my own life of that of my guests, but right now, I’d just like to observe a moment of silence for the passing of Grand Moff Kouza D’wylfe…” —Dezzia Kerr on the opening segment of her show, “Just Dezzia” -----signature----- I'm alive! And I'm back!! Who'd have thought it, eh? Assassination: http://boards.theforce.net/message.asp?topic=14787030 The Cost of Honor: http://boards.theforce.net/message.asp?topic=13443744
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Miana Kenobi Title: Pacific RSA & NSWFF Mod On Limited Time Registered: Apr '00	Date Posted: 2/7/04 11:13pm Subject: RE: The Shadows of Conflict - Part Three: Assassination (UPDATED -- Headliners and Legends, 2/7)
	Mearas... Woo.. go horse lords. Weee... nothing but a lot of editorials to wake you up at 11:15 pm.. -----signature----- President of San Diego FanForce He tini nga whetu e ngaro I te kapua iti. Dyslexics of the world, UNTIE!
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Ty-gon Jinn Registered: Jan '00	Date Posted: 2/7/04 11:30pm Subject: RE: The Shadows of Conflict - Part Three: Assassination (UPDATED -- Headliners and Legends, 2/7)
	Okay, let's see if I can break down how I came up with all those planet names... Kecyrk and the Kameer were preexisting from various other things. Kameer is a rearranging of letters (with one "T" left out) of the word meerkat, the creatures (think Timon from The Lion King) upon which their anatomy was based (mostly). Kecyrk is Krycek, an X-Files character surname, spelled backward. The Xallaiman and Menelandra I made up for my Holiday Contest story This New Year's Eve, and I used Menelandra in And Blessings, Curses Say. Menel is a Sindarin root from the back of the Silmarillion, meaning "sky," and andra is a suffix meaning "earth" or "land" from Old Solar (Hressa-Hlab), the tongue of aliens and angels in C.S. Lewis' Space Trilogy. Xallaiman, if properly pronounced, is just the word Aleman, the Spanish word for German (eh, why not?), with a hard H in front of it. This week, I reread the old Chronicles of Narnia series, since I'm a bit of a C.S. Lewis junkie. The names Tarva and Alambil are Narnian stars that align at the beginning of the adventures of Prince Caspian, and the ruling seat of Narnia is the castle of Cair Paravel. Mearas is, as you picked up on, a reference to the line of Eorl the Young's royal horses, culminating in LOTR's Shadowfax. El Rico is another X-Files reference; it was at El Rico Air Force Base that the original barter - the humans gave their familes, Cassandra Spender and Samantha Mulder included, to the aliens in return for the Erlenmeyer flask, which contained an alien fetus - took place in 1973. Orual come from yet another C.S. Lewis work, 'Til We Have Faces: A Myth Retold. Leonora is a character in The Cid, by Corneille, which I read last year in AP English. I just liked the name, and am planning on introducing a pretty cliched leonine species from the planet. -----signature----- I'm alive! And I'm back!! Who'd have thought it, eh? Assassination: http://boards.theforce.net/message.asp?topic=14787030 The Cost of Honor: http://boards.theforce.net/message.asp?topic=13443744
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Casper_Knightshade Registered: Oct '00	Date Posted: 2/9/04 8:48pm Subject: RE: The Shadows of Conflict - Part Three: Assassination (UPDATED -- Headliners and Legends, 2/7)
	Ah yes, the very distinct headlines of Shadows of Conflict. It makes it all the more interesting and deep in one post. FORWARD! -----signature----- The Sith Hunters http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/29378838/p1 ------ Download the first three volumes of the Gessa Saga on ZIP! http://thegessasaga.tripod.com/
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Ty-gon Jinn Registered: Jan '00	Date Posted: 2/12/04 10:39pm Subject: RE: The Shadows of Conflict - Part Three: Assassination (UPDATED -- Headliners and Legends, 2/7)
	Casper: Yeah, I couldn’t forget an SoC trademark, could I? __________ Dezzia Kerr sat on the small sofa in Kari Kilprenn’s hotel room. She had seen Coren Loenik only moments earlier, but had been hoping to catch her friend before he had to return to the doctor. “Are you coming out?” she yelled in the general direction of the fresher. “You know, Dezzia, I’m perfectly fine,” came a voice from the other side of the wall. “Don’t pretend you didn’t have a nasty fracture in your leg, Kari.” “The break is nothing that a little bacta therapy won’t fix. It’s just this limp that won’t go away.” Dezzia rolled her eyes. “That’s why they gave you the new apparatus I’m curious to see.” “Fine, fine, I’m coming,” Kilprenn said, and the door slid open. He was dressed in his full Imperial uniform, and stood straight and tall, though it seemed he leaned to Dezzia’s right. He started walking out, and limped, shuffling his left foot a bit and compensating by leaning on what seemed like a small droid. The thing was a tall, slim, slivery-metal pole that rose about half his height from the ground, curved outward, and then back toward him, perpendicular to the floor. His hand was resting on a grip there, and a small sling cradled his forearm. On the bottom, several tiny robotic legs spread outward like those of an arachnid. As Kilprenn walked forward, so did his cane. “It looks good, Kari,” Dezzia remarked. “Really? It’s not my favorite thing,” Kilprenn said. “Think of it this way, though. You’re already looking dignified. Coren still has that gauze bandage stuck to his forehead.” Kilprenn let go of the cane to adjust his jacket. “It’s very nice of you to take me to the doctor.” “Ah, what I won’t do for an exclusive,” she sighed. “Ha,” Kilprenn scoffed. “You know, those legs look like something little kids build with toy creator sets.” “They sound like a bug’s scratching on the ground, and I’m going to try to find some plastic tips for that. It’s driving me nuts.” “Ah, relax, Kari.” “You really think I look okay?” “Kari, the first time I saw you, you’d been living in the jungle for a decade and were a complete raving loon. Any look is going to be an improvement.” ***** Regan Learenya, Chief Medical Examiner of the Imperial Guardsmen, looked down at the body of Grand Moff Kouza D’wylfe. A 2-1B unit handed her a pair of scissors to cut away more of the shirt. She had been assigned to review the body and rule on the cause of death as part of Commander Kelsik’s grand inquisition into the assassination. She heard the 2-1B’s vocal recorder unit clicking on, and began speaking. “Apparent cause of death seems to be the wound to the chest, inflicted by blaster bolt. Judging from the burn pattern, it seems that the bolt struck the Grand Moff at an angle, from slightly forward.” She used a small instrument to touch the wound, then paused. “From the size and intensity of the burn, I would guess that a laser rifle is the likely murder weapon.” She started rolling the body over to look at the backside. “Oh, my Force…” she breathed out almost silently. She backed away from the body, now on its side, staring at the back of his neck. Five tiny puncture wounds adorned the nape of the neck in a circular shape, and the area around it had lost all its color. Looking at the grey spot with its obviously deep needle-like puncture wounds, she shook her head and reminded herself that she didn’t know beforehand what she had been looking for. “2-1B, we may need to reevaluate cause of death.” -----signature----- I'm alive! And I'm back!! Who'd have thought it, eh? Assassination: http://boards.theforce.net/message.asp?topic=14787030 The Cost of Honor: http://boards.theforce.net/message.asp?topic=13443744
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Casper_Knightshade Registered: Oct '00	Date Posted: 2/13/04 4:49pm Subject: RE: The Shadows of Conflict - Part Three: Assassination (UPDATED -- Medical Matters, 2/12)
	Well, they discovered the truth, and yet they don't understand it. There can be only bad news from this. AND clickety-clickety-clickety goes the little footsies of the cane. Ay, that would drive me nuts. FORWARD! -----signature----- The Sith Hunters http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/29378838/p1 ------ Download the first three volumes of the Gessa Saga on ZIP! http://thegessasaga.tripod.com/
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Miana Kenobi Title: Pacific RSA & NSWFF Mod On Limited Time Registered: Apr '00	Date Posted: 2/16/04 1:33pm Subject: RE: The Shadows of Conflict - Part Three: Assassination (UPDATED -- Medical Matters, 2/12)
	OOOH.. interesting... looks like there's more than one person who wanted him dead.. Great job, Ty! -----signature----- President of San Diego FanForce He tini nga whetu e ngaro I te kapua iti. Dyslexics of the world, UNTIE!
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Ty-gon Jinn Registered: Jan '00	Date Posted: 2/17/04 9:48pm Subject: RE: The Shadows of Conflict - Part Three: Assassination (UPDATED -- Medical Matters, 2/12)
	Casper: The question is… can they understand it? It is possible? Well, I suppose it’ll be made somewhat clear by the end… Miana: I’m glad it’s interesting. That’s what I was going for. __________ “Viceroy,” an aide announced, “the new ship has arrived.” “Thank you,” Jharrod Ishmael said, glancing at the aide. He had been packing his things, allowing Grand Admiral Rikarde Dion move into his quarters. “I never meant to take over your quarters, Jharrod,” the Admiral said, standing near the door. “It’s not a problem, Rikarde. The Pugil Breves was never meant to be one of the flagships of the fleet anyway. Now that the sister-ship of the old Aurora Fati is finally finished, my quarters really should be there.” As he was speaking, something filled the viewport outside the quarters. Dion could recognize the hull of the Calcator Aurorae starting to drift along nearby. “Anything I can help you move?” Dion asked, stepping forward. “No,” Ishmael said, “I think the droids can handle it well enough. Most of my things are already on the shuttle.” As he packed up the last box, a small metal cylinder fell out onto the floor. Dion picked it up and started examining it. “What is this?” he asked, though it seemed recognizable enough. “Something I picked up from remote access to the Y’tarri Auction House central terminal. It’s amazing what you can buy on there.” Dion pressed a button on the side, and a tiny yellow light sprang out, forming a broad, flat, pointed shape that was maybe eight inches long. It hummed as he moved it through the air. “Is it a lightsaber?” “Well, not exactly a lightsaber. It’s a small weapon of lightsaber design, but no Jedi would have used it. It’s more of a novel weapon that a Jedi might have given to a planetary law enforcement officer.” As he turned it over, Dion looked at the thing ignited before deactivating it. “I had no idea you were interested in such things.” “Well, the Jedi figure into the entire history of the galaxy. I happen to like history,” Ishmael said as he stuffed the small cylinder in his box. “I’m building a replica right now of the double-bladed lightsaber that Obi-wan Kenobi described as being used by his Sith attacker.” “I would be interested to see that,” Dion said, arching his eyebrows. “You think you could use a lightsaber like that?” Dion smirked. “Well, my family has been fencing for several generations now. It’s a bit of a tradition, and if I may say so, I am rather good.” “Really? I’d like to see that for myself.” -----signature----- I'm alive! And I'm back!! Who'd have thought it, eh? Assassination: http://boards.theforce.net/message.asp?topic=14787030 The Cost of Honor: http://boards.theforce.net/message.asp?topic=13443744
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Casper_Knightshade Registered: Oct '00	Date Posted: 2/19/04 8:00am Subject: RE: The Shadows of Conflict - Part Three: Assassination (UPDATED -- The Enemy Front, 2/17)
	Be carefull, Dion: don't give anyone a false impression.... There are....unusual little details in history in terms of what histroical figures did in their spare time. More often than not its stuff you wouldn't think they would be caught dead doing based on circumstances. So this post does pay a little homage to it and gives everything a bit of weight and realism. FORWARD! -----signature----- The Sith Hunters http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/29378838/p1 ------ Download the first three volumes of the Gessa Saga on ZIP! http://thegessasaga.tripod.com/
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Miana Kenobi Title: Pacific RSA & NSWFF Mod On Limited Time Registered: Apr '00	Date Posted: 2/22/04 12:47am Subject: RE: The Shadows of Conflict - Part Three: Assassination (UPDATED -- The Enemy Front, 2/17)
	Dude, building a double-blade lightsaber is a bad idea.. "Hey, I'll try spinning it and looking cool like Darth Maul!" Twirl Twirl Twirl SLICE* "AHHHHH!!!!!"* -----signature----- President of San Diego FanForce He tini nga whetu e ngaro I te kapua iti. Dyslexics of the world, UNTIE!
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