Star Wars OPEN Elite League Limmie

GM Note

All players should note that all OOC talk related to the game can now be had in Out of Bounds, our very own OOC thread, which we are now allowed to have. Please take all further OOC discussions there. I have no doubt that they shall be spirited and hilarious as always.

 

OOC: Uploaded by yours truly.

IC: Meredith Chambers
Six Boroughs Stadium, Nar Shaddaa


To do a tour de stade was an incredibly difficult training exercise. To do one and complete it at Six Boroughs was impossible and yet that was what Meredith Chambers was attempting, the impossible.

Fresh off of her victory in the Limmie All Star Game, Chambers had put her nose to the grindstone to get her body back into game shape after what she considered was a mediocre performance on the galactic stage. The fans had loved the game, that was always a bonus. She had even admitted to the media that Alana Glencross was a great competitor and a good person and for once that didn't taste like a bad drop of medicine. Maybe there was respect forming between the two. Maybe the All Star game had accomplished what it set out to do, unite the Limmie world during the horrific 'Great Quiet'. Maybe. But now the regular season was back on and all bets were off. Red was going to be gunning for her and the team. The entire league had an early baptism of fire in that physically exhausting Limmie game but now the shooting was for real. People wouldn't die, of course, but their personalities could only absorb so many bullets before they fell to the ground in spasms.

Rumors were swirling around the Vertical City that Limmie would resume soon but nothing was set in durracrete. To her it was all talk by the officials and therefore off her radar. All she could do was to focus on improving her body, her mind, sharpening the tools in her belt for yet another intense season of the galaxy's most popular sport. Her feet beat a steady cadence on the durracrete steps as she flew up one set of stairs and down another, rarely stopping, rarely missing a beat. She was in her zone and loved the fact that the stadium was her playground, her home. On and on she went, pushing herself further and faster.

Six Boroughs had character and had come to define the Vertical City, for better or worse. A lot of changes had been made to the city to modernize it for tourists. Crime, although terrifyingly high compared to other moons/worlds, usually settled down during the sports season. The galaxy's greatest drug wasn't spice, it was Limmie. Still, the city hadn't been awarded a Final in over 40 years. The long drought had left many Smugglers fans in despair. What was so bad about a moon that smelled of garbage and had a homicidal rate that made even Kerry Trieste use the restroom? As long as you navigated the streets with a sense of self-preservation, you'd be fine. As the saying went on Nar Shaddaa, 'Out of Sight, Out of Mind'.

Chambers had an earpiece clipped into her right lobe that fed her information about the Limmie world from HSN. She nearly tripped and fell down a flight of stairs as the news went out that Limmie had returned and that the league would be adding additional teams for next season. To top it all off, the Vertical City, her home, had been awarded the Final. Un-frakking-believable. Ending her tour de stade prematurely, Meredith rushed to midfield and collapsed on her knees, tears flowing down her face, eyes closed as she released all of the pent up emotions that had been bottled inside of her since Limmie had ended. Clenching her fists, Chambers tilted her head back and screamed in joy, screamed in excitement, screamed for all those who ever gave a damn about the greatest sport the galaxy had ever known.

"Frak yes!" Chambers roared as her voice echoed from section to section of the venerable stadium.

The quietness of the stadium seemed to devour her being. There came a loud noise from outside the stadium growing in an intensity like the flames of a fire. She pulled out her datapad to watch the live HSN feed from Nar Shaddaa. Airspeeders were honking, crowds were celebrating and hugging one another, rival gangs were putting down their weapons and acknowledging a truce, and most of all, Nar Shaddaa came together as one moon. Listening to the roar of the crowds, Chambers, who rested all alone in the center of a pitch that had helped shape the history of Limmie, couldn't help in that one moment understand why it was that she played the game. Not for money, not for glory, not for a place in history, but because when it mattered the most, Limmie united people from all walks of life, from every step along the political spectrum, from every species that ever lived.

Wiping the tears from her face, Chambers pumped a fist in the air, her trademark celebration after a good play, and headed to the locker room with a big smile.

Limmie was back.

Tag: No One

 

IC

During the Great Quiet, the Miners had dispersed to their homes, awaiting word that the officials' strike was over. They went to all ends of the galaxy. Dorf Landa to Bastion, Inviere and Andersen to the Hapes Cluster, Uncia to Cathar, all of the Bakuran natives to their homes across the planet. Quinn Cunertol did not return to his native Eriadu, but rather roved around the galaxy, scouting and observing. Big John Talley went back to Nouvelle Orleans and enjoyed himself royally, the favorite son of the city. He even started attending College of Deredith & Millicent games to, in his words, "Actually enjoy this team winning rather than having to worry about being part of making that happen!" The Chancellor, of course, kept herself well occupied on Coruscant with affairs of state.

But one being could not be found. The press looked high and low for her. They scoured Cape Suzette, the scene of her college days. They covered ever square micron of Ojai (which was not all that large to begin with) and could not find her.

Alana Glencross, it seemed, had fallen off the plane of the galaxy after the HSN All-Star Game...

---

IC: Alana Glencross
Forest Moon of Endor

ZAP!

Alana dropped the charging Gurreck which slammed into the floor of the forrest, skidded through the dirt, and stopped dead about half a meter from her. She remembered to exhale and started panting as time started again in her head.



"Frak!" she exclaimed with relief.

"That was better this time," her guide, a Devaronian said, "You waited a couple beats to make sure you had the shot."

"For Force sake, I thought having a Whipid defender bearing down on you was intense, but that's got nothing on that," Alana said in the middle of the adrenaline rush.

The All-Star Game had convinced her that she wasn't in peak condition thanks to the Great Quiet. And try as she might, she couldn't help but catch snippets from the Holonet.

"Alana Glencross is a pretty face with a history of underachieving..."

"...just doesn't have the mental toughness to get to the next level..."

"...captain in name only..."

"...looked tired in the second half..."

"...needs to step up her physical play..."

There was truth to all of that, an uncomfortable truth. Offseasons in Ojai she thought she'd worked hard, but it hadn't been enough. The Miners were 1-2 and in a precarious position of another non-playoff appearance. She needed to do something different this time, something bold. Something unusual.

That was where survival training on Endor came in. It was just her, her guide, their rations, and their blaster rifles on a moon that Alana was pretty sure had the sole intent of trying to kill her. Including the Ewoks. Apparently redheads were considered especially tasty in their culture. All those plush Ewoks she's had as a kid apparently were not indicative of the fact that the runts had no problem attempting to roast Humans for dinner. Yeah, they forgot to put that on the tag when they sold those cute cubs.

Alana had left her commlink, her datapad, everything on Bakura. She was completely disconnected from the galaxy at large. Her guide, however, for reasons of safety (like being kidnapped by pirates--the Coruscant Senators had reminded everyone of that), was not. His commlink was beeping now as Alana looked at the dead Gurreck.

"Uh huh?...Yeah?...No Sithspit....Okay, I'll tell her," the Devaronian said, "Hey Alana, the strike's over. Apparently games start up again this week."

Alana closed her eyes and turned her face to the sky. Thank the Force.

"Great. Let's get back to the shuttle so I can go home and kick some butt," Alana said.

One Gurreck down, one Phil Brooks coming up.

Tag: JediMaster1511

 

OOC: Perfect choice of music, Trieste.


IC: The Chiefs
Location: War Memorial, Char'les'town, Nadiem

Reggie Dun'lop strolled into the locker room only to here a bunch of "Hey, Coach"s from some of his players. Others started clapping.

He looked around at everyone.

"Great job in the All-Star Game, Reg," the hot Zeltron midfielder Francine said, putting her hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks, everybody," Reggie responded with a smile on his face. "But I couldn't 'a done it without those players, ya know." He pointed at Med Bradon. "Like Braden here. He did one helluva job out there. And some of those other players, like Chambers. She had a rough first half, but kept us in it the rest of the game." He turned to Millie Braden. "And let's not forget the support from Millie, and..." he reluctantly glanced toward the Hanson brothers, "these crazy sons of Biths."

"Those cops weren't very nice," one of them responded.

"But it's great to have all you guys back again," Reg said, clasping his hands. "Now let's get out there and play some Chiefs limmie!"

The team cheered and began suiting up, getting ready for their first practice session since the break.

TAG: Anyone, possibly Liam_Vehn for the thing about Chambers...

 

GM Post

The GCLA had once been second only to the Elite League in prestige in the galaxy of boloball. But it had fallen upon hard times in recent years, fading into obscurity with all of its history.

That was, until the Chandrila Patriots got tired of the Premier League. Fed up with what they saw as Commissioner Agado willingly turning the Premier League into a development system for the Elite League teams, the Patriots had decided that the time had come for action. Discreet inquiries went out to their Core world brethren. At the suggestion of Corellia, an invitation was sent to the Agamar Packers, who had already departed the Premier League the season before. Soon, a six team cabal emerged to jump ship, arms linked. Their landing place was suggested by the Kuat Triforce: the old Galactic Championship Limmie Association. The GCLA would welcome big name teams with open arms and the teams could claim a long lineage of legitimacy. Gladly, the GCLA swept out teams like the Rodia Hunters to take these big boys from the Core.

But one team would not be budged. The Ryloth Rough Riders had been one of the great teams back in the day. They wanted in on this new GCLA. They were riding a young wave of talent that they thought had real potential. The best way to discover if that was true was to put it to the test against some of the most legendary franchises to grace a Limmie field.

One other team edged its way in. No one is exactly sure how the Onderon Crazy Dragons muscled their way in GCLA, but they did. But the consensus among those in the know was clear: Sam Poland had something to do with it, but nobody quite knew what that was. Maybe it had been favors called in with her former club, the Patriots. Or had the Crazy Dragons made it on merit? No one except those at the very top knew, but the fact remainder: Onderon was in the GCLA.

It is three weeks into the season now and the Triforce aare off to an undefeated start. For Onderon at 2-1, life is good…but fortunes can change quickly. Like in the Elite League, a cluster of 1-2 teams sit at the bottom of the standings. Included in this tangle are the Rough Riders. One season after going to the GCLA Final, the Rough Riders are in danger of back sliding. To say that they have their work cut out for them is an understatement.

Week 1
Kuat Triforce at Alsakan Flyers (16-4)
Onderon Crazy Dragons at Genet Vornskrs (31-4)
Agamar Packers at Corellia Rebels (20-32)
Ryloth Rough Riders at Chandrila Patriots (14-5)

Week 2
Alsakan Flyers at Agamar Packers (2-34)
Chandrila Patriots at Onderon Crazy Dragons (7-11)
Genet Vornskrs at Corellia Rebels (27-23)
Kuat Triforce at Ryloth Rough Riders (32-21)

Week 3
Onderon Crazy Dragons at Kuat Triforce (2-11)
Agamar Packers at Genet Vornskrs (6-19)
Ryloth Rough Riders at Alsakan Flyers (4-11)
Chandrila Patriots at Corellia Rebels (2-0)

Week 4
Genet Vornskrs at Kuat Triforce
Alsakan Flyers at Onderon Crazy Dragons
Chandrila Patriots at Agamar Packers
Corellia Rebels at Ryloth Rough Riders

Week 5
Alsakan Flyers at Chandrila Patriots
Ryloth Rough Riders at Genet Vornskrs
Kuat Triforce at Corellia Rebels
Onderon Crazy Dragons at Agamar Packers

Week 6
Kuat Triforce at Chandrila Patriots
Agamar Packers at Ryloth Rough Riders
Genet Vornskrs at Alsakan Flyers
Corellia Rebels at Onderon Crazy Dragons

Week 7
Corellia Rebels at Alsakan Flyers
Chandrila Patriots at Genet Vornskrs
Agamar Packers at Kuat Triforce
Ryloth Rough Riders at Onderon Crazy Dragons

Tag: JEDI_TEEGIRLOO JediMaster_1977

 

Sam Poland
Great Iziz Field

The Onderon Crazy Dragons were on the field practicing for their next match against the Alsakan Flyers. The Dragons had just come off of a heart wrenching loss to Kuat Triforce, leaving the Dragons at 2-1 in the standings. For Sam Poland this wasn’t good enough. She expected the team to strive for perfection. Some say she is obsessed with winning. This was true in many ways. She would do anything just to get what she wanted.

There were rumors that Sam bribed her way in getting the Crazy Dragons in to the GCLA. Sam’s behavior didn’t help much with rumor control. She was the General Manager of the team, yet she would be on the field coaching loudly to the players pointing out flaws. Even coaching the coaches, which made head coach Ross Mckowen furious at times. Sam didn’t care as long as the team recorded wins and wins championships.

“You’re too far to the left Pamjer.” she yelled at the goalkeeper Brad Pamjer, who immediately moved toward the right.

“Leed come in strong.” Sam barked at the team captain and right half back Jenna Leed.

It had been Jenna who put the Crazy Dragons in the spotlight. Fresh from her victory in the all-star game. Everyone took notice of Onderon since then. Sam was giddy inside. This was exactly what the Crazy Dragons needed, publicity for the team. Sam was going to exploit that as much as possible. The stadium has been selling out, which couldn’t make Sam more happy. Everything was going right just the way Sam had wanted. With the exception of the one loss to Alsakan.

Sam’s hope is to get the Crazy Dragons into the Premier league even though some teams like the Chandrila Patriots have left it for the GCLA. In Sam’s eyes the team hasn’t made it until they are in the Premier league. Only then will the team get the respect that it deserves. But for now the GCLA will have to do. They need to work their way up before they enter another league. It’s only been five years but Sam was always thinking about the future of the team.


TAG: No one

 

IC: Gark S’rily
Thyferra, Korthe Residence



Gark sat on the sofa, mindlessly watching the HoloNet as yet another press conference by Calo Mornd, the swine who was now the head of Andromeda Steel and Droid Corp., turned into a Gark-bashing affair. Man, that guy never gave up an opportunity to smear the Bothan’s name, and the worst part about it was that all the reporters ate it up. Yes, it was certainly all Gark’s fault that Mornd was shutting the Senators down at the end of the season, and that they were losing money. The way Gark remembered it, Mornd was the swindler, and the Senators hadn’t been losing money for the better part of a decade. Winning a lot brought with it loads of credits, and the Senators were now the face of the game on the galactic capital. Gark wasn’t sure what alternate dimension Mornd was coming from, but it certainly wasn’t one where people spoke the truth. As far as the Bothan was concerned, it was a dimension called corporate backstabbing, and he had fallen victim to its mechanical gear-shifting.

Gark hardly stirred as the door opened and Pamila Korthe, the attractive Zeltron head coach of the Thyferra Force, walked in carrying a bag of groceries. She came in and set the bag down on the counter, then looked to see that the Bothan guest had plunked himself right in front of the HoloNet screen once again. “I can’t believe you still watch all that crap,” she said with a sigh, grabbing the remote that she left on the counter and flipping the screen off. “You keep saying that you’re stressed out, and it’s no surprise why when you keep looking for things like that that grate on your nerves.”

“I . . . I guess I just let my mind wander again,” Gark said, not moving. This sofa was rather comfortable, and he yawned once. “But, I just can’t stop thinking about everything. No matter what I watch, no matter what I do, I cannot escape what happened a few months ago. It’s like a hidden demon that I just can’t face up to. It’s tormenting me, and there’s nothing I can do about it. As long as Mornd sits there and I’m here, completely helpless and friendless, then I’ll never get over it.”

“Well, I found something that should cheer you up a little bit,” Pam said. She unrolled a piece of flimsy and came over to the sofa, handing it to Gark. The Bothan’s fingers took hold of the flimsy, and he looked at it. What he saw was an image of himself from a much happier day. Mini Gark on the flimsy was staring right back at him, a huge grin on his face as he clutched a pair of Galactic Cup trophies in his hands. A proud moment for a man who himself had run through the gauntlet a time or two to get to where he had been then; Galactic Cup-winning coach, and successful businessman. The Gark who was looking at the flimsy, what was he? Just a shell of the man he used to be, no longer successful, no longer happy. Those cups, what value did they have anymore? Gark couldn’t take it anymore; he crumpled up the paper in his fist, the feeling of flimsy crackling under his knuckles providing him only a small sense of satisfaction as he looked for a cure-all that would heal what ailed him.

“I didn’t want you to do that,” Pam said. “Did you look at it? You were holding two Galactic Cup titles!”

“Two titles,” Gark muttered under his breath, but it was loud enough so that Pam could hear. “Two titles.”

“Didn’t that excite you at all?” Pam asked, desperately looking for something to cheer up the Bothan. But it was no use; Gark had his mind set on being moody at this time.

“All I see are a pair of empty cups,” Gark said.

“Empty cups?” Pam asked incredulously. How could such prizes as Galactic Cups, revered by all who followed the game of Limmie, mean so little? Was Gark just being a head case, or did this transcend the bounds of common sense? It then occurred to Pam that this was potentially going to cause the Bothan to break; perhaps he was right, everything he said, everything he did. Maybe she was the one who just didn’t get it. Pam wouldn’t have made it this long had she been in his position, to have everything, everyone, all the things that had made your life what it was, taken from you, and forced to live on sofas begging for spare change on the street corner. She hadn’t gone into coaching Limmie at a high level just to sit at the library a few blocks down the street reading endless mounds of datapads on galactic law to clear her name for a crime she theoretically hadn’t committed, the hope of success also tempered by the cold hard fact that most likely this effort would be for naught, that her name would forever have the black censor mark over it stripping her of all her pride. What the Bothan was going through right now, that was unimaginable. Perhaps he would rather be dead right now than shamed like he was; maybe this was the ultimate version of a living hell that one could experience. That constant tormentor that hung about your head like a black cloud, threatening to rain on you no matter what positives you tried to take from life, ready to strike when you least expected it. She had no idea what that felt like, and she had no intention of ever finding out, but she came to realize that this was more than just a pride issue on Gark’s part. This was more than she had ever imagined, because when even two Galactic Cups failed to make a former Limmie coach feel anything positive running through their veins, then that person was truly in a deep, dark place, one that was hard to come out of.

“All I see are a pair of empty cups,” Gark repeated firmly. He looked back at Pam, who had been lost in thought for several seconds as she pieced together the puzzle. “I still love the game, Pam, but when you lose everything, when everyone turns on you, where can you go to escape your past? I just hope that you finally understand, because I haven’t given up on the game. It’s the one that’s given up on me. For the first time in my life, I . . . I don’t know where to go. It all used to be so simple. Get yourself through school, go to college, get a good job to support yourself. Nowhere was I trained on what to do if my life suddenly was turned upside-down, where I lost everything that I cherished, and was sitting here today as a broken man, a shell of my former self. I never forgot the game, I never quit on it. The game, the galaxy, has quit on me. What have I done in my life to say to the galaxy that I would steal money from people who really needed it? Why anyone would believe that gossip I don’t know, but that doesn’t matter now. What does is that I’m here, and I can’t take this anymore.” He looked back at the Zeltron. “What would you do in my position? How could you fix those bridges you burned earlier in your life, knowing that doing so might be against your better judgment?”

“Frankly, I wouldn’t know where to begin cleaning up your life,” Pam said. “It’s so fractured right now. I looked at that photo, and what I saw there was you, in your moment of triumph, on top of the galaxy as you held aloft your prizes of Limmie glory. The person I let into my house is someone who is haunted by his past, by what has been done to him, and I don’t know what I can do to help you. You need to figure this out on your own . . .”

“I just need an answer, Pam,” Gark said quickly.

There was silence for several seconds as Pam thought. “I would make amends for any past transgressions,” Pam said finally after deliberating her options. “Even if you haven’t actually harmed anyone, I would think that would clear your conscience.”

Gark nodded. “I can do that,” he said halfheartedly. He picked up his comlink off the end table, dusting it off because it had been sitting there unused most of the time he had been staying on Thyferra. What use was a comlink for a man who did not wish to be found by the rest of the galaxy? He started to flip through his list of contacts, and each successive one made him even more depressed. Dirxx, Andrew Mundle, Shayt, Moen, Polis, Brosh . . . the entire team was there, and Gark almost choked up with emotion. All of them had been his friends at one time, and now what were they? Just names on a list, faces that had turned their backs on him as they went on with their lives hoping that swindlers such as himself would never come knocking again, even if he was asking for a small bit of forgiveness from them. That’s what Mornd had intended all along; Gark’s life was in tatters, and there was no light at the end of this tunnel that he could see. Finally, he stopped at one name, one that made him really fall down the chasm of depression. “Ryal” was all that it said.

“Whatever you need to do . . .” Pam said from behind Gark. “Just get it done. You’ll feel better for it, I promise.” Gark thumbed the ‘call’ button on the comlink, then put the comlink on speaker so that Pam could also hear what was said on the other end of the line. Gark wasn’t sure if this was a good idea, but he wanted Pam there as moral support. Right now, she was the only person who could save him from himself. After three rings, the other end of the connection finally popped up.

“Hello?” came a voice, speaking in the traditional Bothan language. Pam looked at Gark, an eyebrow cocked. He had forgotten to mention that he had called his sister, the one who only a few years before had been racked with cancer. She had recovered and was now leading a rather healthy life, but Gark had lost contact with her soon after that after being exiled from Coruscant. Finally, the Zeltron motioned to her mouth and opened it, then pointing to the comlink. All the while, she kept a stern look on her face.

“Hi, Ryal,” was all that Gark said. He said it so that Pam could also understand him.

“You!” Ryal shot back through the comlink, this time in Basic. “What gives you the right to call me like this, after what you pulled?!”

“I wanted to make amends for everything,” Gark said. “It’s hard to explain, but I just want . . .”

“I’m not going to listen to your petty excuses!” Ryal shouted, obviously angered by this whole conversation. “Get away from me and my family, you creep! Never call me again, you understand? You hear me, you piece of worm-ridden filth? NEVER call me again!”

“Look, I’m just trying to make up for everything,” Gark said quickly, trying to keep the conversation going. He was starting to sweat under the pressure; this was harder than Pam had made it sound. He had always been taught to never make excuses, because that only led to further problems down the road. Now he was forced to do damage control, and he was sure that this conversation, if it could be called that, was certainly not helping his mental state. “Please, listen to me . . . I’m your brother . . .”



“I don’t have a brother,” Ryal said tersely, cutting the connection instantly. All that could be heard now was the crackle of static coming through the comlink, this sound bouncing off the walls as the entire house was silent. Gark stood over the comlink, stunned by what he had just heard. He had now been disowned by his own family; he was now a loner, a wanderer, a drifter without direction. He felt helpless, like the gears of everyday life were going to pick him up and grind him into dust as they went on, never stopping to see that they had ground up some poor fellow in the process.

“I’m sorry,” Pam said, putting a hand on Gark’s shoulder. “I know that I sound like I don’t care, but I just want you to know that . . . that . . . I’m here for you.” Everything was coming full-circle now; all those months that Gark had been staying here had all been coming to a head at this point, when his resolve was going to be severely tested. Either he would rise from the ashes and regain his status, or he would break from the pressure and die a broken man in a ditch somewhere. The ball was in the Bothan’s court now; everything depended on what he was going to do now.

Gark looked at the Zeltron, then looked back down at the comlink, all the while not saying a word. Then he sighed, the weight of the galaxy seemingly landing on his back in one fell swoop, trying to crush him under its mighty weight. Up against it was his now-feeble resolve; what had once been strong, and had made him a success, was now a fraction of its former self, the property of a man so tormented that he had no idea of what he wanted anymore other than the fantastical dream that he might someday be able to clear his name and regain whatever dignity that was left at the door for him. There was no describing such a conflict of emotions, even to a close friend; you almost had to experience such torment first-hand in order to understand, or in Pam’s case, even try to begin to grasp the concept of utter defeat and desolation. This had gone beyond Limmie; it had been an attack on Gark’s very soul by Mornd, and so far the cutthroat was winning. Typical businessman, doing whatever he could to make a few credits. But Limmie . . . Limmie . . . perhaps, as much of the tormentor as it was, maybe that was the key. But for now, Gark had sunk to a new low; the chasm that he seemed to be staring up through just got that much longer, the dark tunnel that much wider and threatening. He was in a cold, dark place, one that he was afraid that he would never escape from with his full mind. Life had now become a prison, a fortress of solitude where he was the only prisoner, forced to sleep on couches and rely on the one friend he had for his meals because he didn’t dare go out in fear that the people, even on Thyferra, would eviscerate him on sight. His very existence at this time was tenuous at best, and only getting worse as new reports came in to add to the growing pile of anxiety. What a mess.

“I’m afraid that there’s no going back now,” Gark finally said, still looking down at the comlink. His speech was slow, deliberate. It was clear to Pam that he was in no mood to be cheered up, and she didn’t blame him one bit. That conversation, if it could be deemed as such, had been a disaster. No burnt bridges were mended there, and her suggestion had only led to more depression for the already-downcast Bothan in front of her.

Several minutes passed with nothing said between the two. The only thing that either of them could hear was the slight whine of construction equipment as workers were building a new apartment complex a few blocks down the road. Although the time went by fast for Pam, the seconds seemed to tick by at an oozing pace for Gark. His mind raced, but his sense of reality was so distorted that it felt like even his fast-moving brain was moving about as slow as a space slug. How could Ryal do this to him? She hadn’t even given him a chance to explain himself, and had then dropped the bomb on him before he could recover. She had obviously been swept up by the media frenzy, and now Gark had lost another friend, one whom he feared he might never recover.

“Are you going to be all right?” Pam finally asked, breaking the deathly silence in the room.

“I’ll be fine,” Gark said, but both of them knew that this wasn’t true. He was close to choking up, but he had to work to restrain himself from beginning to bawl his eyes out. No, he didn’t need to do that, not in front of his only remaining friend . . . if in fact Pam was a friend, or just the only person in the galaxy who believed that he may still be a halfway-decent person and not the vilified scumbag that Mornd had painted on his image and then spread out to the media pundits eagerly awaiting a scandal story to put out as their headline.

A soft beep echoed around the room, and Gark looked to his datapad on the end table. The screen had lit up, and so he picked it up. The screen said that he had one unread message, so he carefully pressed the key to open the message. Some text flashed upon the screen, and to Gark’s dismay, it was not a letter of sympathy. Instead, it was quite the opposite.

Greetings.

Ryal tells me that you tried to contact her a few moments ago, and that you sounded more like a blithering buffoon than a respectable businessman the entire time. I wish I had been there to hear it, because that would have been oh-so-sweet music to my ears. You know what, I’m going to put this straight; enjoy your exile, because I’m certainly enjoying it. Your team’s going down the drain, boy, and I’m loving every minute of it. And the best part? The idiotic media believes me; it must be my charisma and friendly attitude.

Anyways, just thought you should know that after you left town for your own good, Ryal, needing someone to help her in this time of utter distress, came to me out of options. I took her in as any loving sibling would, and have given her a safe haven from the rest of the galaxy. Especially from you. I would say that she looks upon me as her own brother now, one who is there for her when she needs support and guidance. Unlike you, I respect her, and give her space to operate in in times of struggle. If only you could have learned this, but oh no, you seemed hell bent on running your own vendetta against those poor, helpless people in need. Shame on you, shame on you. From what I heard, I’m now her only sibling, and you’re just some faceless stranger who I could easily slap a restraining order on if you ever come back. You know, because I’m just that caring.

I’ve gotta run, because there’s so much to do. By the way, your apartment is rather quaint; when I need to rest, I occasionally go over there and take a nap in that favorite chair of yours. It’s rather comfortable, and I really appreciate you buying it so that I could use it. You’re just so nice for letting me use all of your assets; what a nice guy you are. Ryal seems to be enjoying the pampering I give her, and her son loves me like his own father, because you know how the real one kinda got in a tangle and then got dumped off the deep end. But not to worry; Ryal’s in good hands with me.

Enjoy your exile, because I know I am.

Cheers.
~
CM

Gark read through the words, each sentence adding to his increasing sense of numbness. His eyes were bulging out, sweat began to drench his face, and his breathing began to become more rapid. When he hit the end of the letter, he stood there in stunned silence for several seconds, not a single muscle even twitching. Then the numbness turned to pure hatred. A wave of aggression washed over Gark like a tidal wave, cascading him in hatred and despair. He then threw the datapad onto the floor with frightening force, causing the device’s screen to shatter in thousands of microscopic shards as it hit the deck and exploded. Then, before anything else could happen, he let out a thunderous roar, something even he didn’t know he was capable of. It was so massive that anyone witnessing it might have thought that Gark was a seasoned warrior because it was so bloodcurdling.

Pam listened to this aggressive outlet of negative emotion. The cry even made several hairs on her head stand up, it was that unlike Gark to do this. The roar itself was more than just a simple letting out of anger. It was the desperate cry of someone who was in dire straits, a wanderer without a cause, a man whose life had been torn apart. But, it was also more than that. It was a cry of anguish, of desperation, of absolute mirth and hatred, of desolation, of pure angst. If given the opportunity, Pam thought, Gark, if Mornd was standing right there in front of him, would easily have ripped the head off his enemy just like a gundark would to its prey.

When Gark was done with his roar, he fell back onto the sofa in a daze. Then, he lifted his paws in front of his face, his eyes taking on a glazed look as he stared deeply at his paws almost like he was looking into the soul of another person. His breathing was still ragged, and his face was drenched with sweat as he sat there panting, looking completely haggard. Finally, his lips moved. “What have I become?” he finally asked to no one in particular, still staring at his paws. “I’m a monster.”

Pam cautiously came over to the sofa, still afraid that Gark would lash out again in anger. She put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s OK,” she said in a soft voice.

Gark looked up at the Zeltron, and put his paws down. “I’ve lost everything,” he said, shaking as he went. “My team, my friends, my home . . . my family . . . he’s taken everything from me.”

“Then I suggest you do what you need to do,” Pam said. “Is there anyone else who can help you?”

Gark sat for a moment, still in stunned silence. Then, he looked back up. “There is. I have an uncle in the Outer Rim. I haven’t talked to him in a long time; I don’t know if he’s still alive . . .”

“Do you trust him?” Pam asked.

“No . . .” Gark said. “But what choice do I have?”

“I’d say that this is a good time to pay him a visit,” Pam said. “Take it from me. As a friend, I don’t want to see you spiral down into depression. I know you can be better than this. Prove me right, for your sake.”

“All right,” Gark said. He stood up, still weary-looking. Then, he came over and embraced Pam, who hugged him back. It was the least she could do to try and keep him going. His spirit was down to its last dregs, and she was convinced that a change of scenery, and maybe some guidance from someone closer to him than she was, would perhaps get him back on track. He had worked so hard studying the last few months that she didn’t want to see him give up on his dream, no matter how impossible it seemed. It was odd how the tables had turned; years earlier, she was the one in need of guidance, and Gark had come along to provide support when she needed it. Now she was paying him back when he was in desperate need of help. It was funny how life worked out at times.

---

The home of Fryd’ryk “Fred” S’rily wasn’t exactly a flashy place to live. In fact, it was more of a hovel than anything else, a retreat from the rigors of everyday life around the galaxy. It was here that Fred S’rily sat, reading another book from his extensive library collection for about the fifteenth time. Although he had read every book in his collection at least a dozen times, they never got old. Every time he finished, he was eager to start in on a new adventure, even if it was one where he already knew the outcome and could almost recite half the story from memory. But that wasn’t the point; the principle was the escape that the stories provided for him, because no one came knocking anymore. He had originally built his home as a place to escape when he had been in desperate need of shelter from debt collectors. In his younger days, Fred had been a gambler, probably too much for his own good. He had racked up large debts, and then had run away until he could figure out a better plan. He had eventually paid those debts back in full by working odd jobs and doing whatever he could to scrounge up a few credits, but the lack of social interaction during those years had cost him mightily. All of his friends stopped coming around, and eventually the only people who came knocking these days were either trying to sell him something or were lost and needed directions. It was a lonely life, and Fred had eventually resigned himself to his fate years ago when he finally came to the conclusion that he was no longer a place for him in regular society. So there he sat, day after day, waiting for something, anything, to happen that would rekindle his passion for life itself.

The doorbell rang, and Fred sighed. It was probably another salesman making the rounds, most likely that one young buck who was trying to see him something called a “garbage disposal” doohickey for his sink. Fred had never seen a need for such a device, as he usually just composted his waste in the tiny garden plot out back, and had tried to tell the man that several times. Yet the salesman kept coming back, much to Fred’s chagrin. The guy was probably making his rounds again, so Fred grabbed a gnarled cane that he kept next to his recliner chair, ready to try and prod any salesman out front away before they could start in on their spiel. The doorbell rang again, and Fred sighed. “Coming!” he muttered to himself, slowly making his way to the door. Unlatching the lock on the door, he opened it slowly and poked his stick out from behind it. “I’ve told you before, I don’t want to buy whatever you’re selling. I don’t need it, and I don’t want you coming around here anymore. You hear me?” He finally opened the door all the way, but there was no salesman there. Instead, there was another Bothan, wearing a grungy t-shirt and shorts.

“Hi Uncle Fred,” Gark said sheepishly.

“Gark!” Fred said, his eyes lighting up. “I haven’t seen you in ages! Come on in, my boy!” He let Gark walk into the hovel before shutting the door behind him. He then made his way back to his favorite chair, motioning to his nephew to do the same. “So, what brings you out this far? A burning desire to see crazy ol’ Uncle Fred, eh? I knew that someone would come by eventually who wanted to talk to me instead of trying to sell me something. I just knew it.”

“I came to ask for advice,” Gark said after he had sat down on a stiff armchair. He winced at the hardness of the seat, but then he promptly forgot about it as he began to speak.

“What for?” Fred asked. The old Bothan had to take his time to sit down, since he had to keep the cane on the ground the entire time. He had not aged well, and just getting up and down from his chair at times gave him problems. “The last time you came to me for advice was for tips to woo a particularly nice girl back when you were in high school. That was a long time ago, kid; it’s been what, thirty years or so since you asked that? Time certainly flies by when you get to be my age.”

“You know why I’m here,” Gark said sullenly.

“Unless you’re on the lam from prison or being chased by mercenaries, I’m pretty sure I don’t,” Fred said, shrugging as he reclined in his seat.

“It’s about . . . about my apparent transgressions with the law,” Gark said. He was staring down at the floor as he said this, because he didn’t want to sound sincere about it. What had he done that was against the law?

“Oh, that,” Fred said. He crossed his legs as he began to slowly rock back and forth in his chair, his arms sitting gently on the faded old armrests that had probably been worn out fifteen years earlier.

“You know, don’t you?” Gark asked, still not looking at his uncle as he spoke.

“Of course I do, my boy,” Fred said. “Everyone knows about it. I’ve actually had a couple of visitors come by recently just to tell me that my nephew is a scumbag, and then they leave. What am I supposed to say to them? Son, whatever you did, or didn’t do, its major news. I got word of it the day it came out, and I don’t follow current events that much.”

“Yeah,” Gark said, sighing.

“So, I repeat my question: what do you need my advice for?” Fred asked.

“I just need someone to listen to me,” Gark said. “Everything I’ve ever worked for, everyone I’ve ever met, it’s all gone. All the people I knew have turned on me, and all of my assets are gone. I don’t even have my favorite old sweatshirt that I used to wear because it was stolen by some hoodlum months back. I’m in a dark place right now, and I have nowhere else to turn. I was hoping you could give me some inspiration. Something, anything, to get me back on track.”

“Kid, I can’t heal all your problems just by talking to you for a few minutes,” Fred said after several moments of deliberation. “I just want to make that clear. Whatever happened to you, you first and foremost need to go and make it right. Hoping something turns out right won’t make any damn difference in the galaxy; if you want something to change, you need to make it happen with your own two hands.”

“What am I supposed to do? Walk around a town and get murdered in cold blood just because I supposedly did something wrong?” Gark asked incredulously.

“No,” Fred said, keeping calm. “If you want things to change, you need to facilitate that. If you want to clear your name, which is what I suspect you are trying to get at here, it won’t be easy. You’ll need to study law hard, you’ll need to be able to thoroughly explain your case in front of a court, and you’ll also need to screw your courage in order to have any shot at achieving your objective. No one says it’s going to be easy; frankly, kid, I don’t think it can be done. I used to be a gambler, so I know odds, and the odds are not in your favor. They probably never will be. So, if I’m a jury, what would I think if you came in and presented a case the remove the black marks from your record? Would I trust the man with all the money and influence, or would I trust the disgraced man who barely has the clothes on his back and a few datapads to his name? Kid, if you’re going to have any chance at this, you need to go full-force at it, because if you don’t give 200% effort, there’s no point in even trying.”

“I got that,” Gark said. He stood up and stepped forward. However, a loud bang stopped him dead in his tracks. Fred had whacked his cane against the wood floor, his face serious as he stared down his nephew coldly.

“Apparently you didn’t,” Fred said. “You think I’m not giving you the advice you need, don’t you?”

“Basically, yes,” Gark said.

[media=youtube]BjgTFd6XAg8[/media]

“You’re just as impertinent as your father,” Fred said, shaking his head. “He was always headstrong, and I had to talk sense into him a lot in our youth because he went off and did something rash. He was always the courageous one, while I was the cautious sibling who usually ended up explaining to our parents why your father got roughed up all the time. I think it’s rather ironic that he ended up being straight-laced when he matured while I became the one with the risky streak to my name.”

“So . . .”

“Kid, what I’m trying to say is that you need to think about what you’re going for here. Do you really expect to be able to just walk into a courtroom and win your case? If you haven’t noticed, public opinion is against you. You can’t expect your old reputation to win you over many fans.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” Gark said. “That has to count for something.”

“And what proof do you have on the contrary?” Fred asked. Gark couldn’t respond to this. He had no proof that Mornd was lying; for all anyone knew, he had been guilty of those grievous crimes.

“None,” Gark finally said.

“Just what I suspected,” Fred said.

“Is that all you’re going to tell me?” Gark asked. He was starting to get fed up by his uncle’s remarks. Although he knew they were true, Gark wanted something else from his uncle. Maybe some moral support, or perhaps a secret strategy to try? But, at this point, he would be lucky to get a piece of cheese and some water. Uncle Fred was being a hard-nose, and Gark wasn’t sure how to respond.

Fred sat in his chair for several seconds. Finally, he picked up his cane once again and pointed to one of the walls of the hovel. “Gark, I need you to know that I’m just doing this in your best interest. I may sound like a dapper old fool to you, and in most cases I probably am. After all, why trust a gambler who made his reputation losing on all the sabaac tables between here and the Unknown Regions? But I really do care. I haven’t seen you in so long, but that doesn’t mean that I haven’t been keeping up to date on your progress. Take a look for yourself.”

Gark stood up and made his way to the point where Freed was pointing with his cane. There was a faded board there, dozens of tacks drilled into the board. Each tack was attached to a piece of well-worn flimsy, each one a clipping from old magazines and periodicals. The closest piece of flimsy came down off the wall as Gark moved there, and he bent down to pick it up. “S’rily’s Senators Ride Again” said the headline. The subheadline said: “Win over Kuat has the Ragtag Rebellion in Place for Playoff Push”. Gark looked up at the other pieces of flimsy on the board. “Coruscant Champs! 262 Galactic Cup Winners!” screamed one headline, another one proclaiming “Senators Turn Up Heat, Best Smugglers in Rim War Shootout”, and one near the bottom of the board had a similar headline as it advertised one of the semifinal wins for the Senators and proclaimed them as one of the contestants for the Galactic Cup. Gark couldn’t tell which year it was from, but he had seen enough.

“You saved these?” Gark asked, turning around to face his uncle. “These go back quite a ways . . .”

“Every one,” Fred said, his stern look fading back to a meek smile. “Ever since you became coach of the Senators, I’ve been clipping the articles from the paper every week to save because I knew that someday you might stop by and find out that your Uncle Fred wasn’t as much of a hermit as you thought. Even though you never called and never wrote to me, I didn’t forget about you. All of your accomplishments, everything you ever worked for out on that pitch, it’s up there. Now, I suppose that seeing those make you depressed?”

“A little,” Gark said. He turned back to read more of the headlines.

“Well, I can’t help you for that,” Fred said, “but I can tell you that you’ve done an awful lot in your life. Your father would be proud of you if he was still alive.”

“He would probably have disowned me too if he was still alive,” Gark muttered. “Even he would have turned his back on me, and I wouldn’t blame him. I’ve become something I never wanted to be. I’m afraid of myself, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Your father never would have done that to you, mark my words,” Fred said sternly. “Never think for a second that he would write you off without proper proof of transgressions, and then some. He may have been stubborn at times, but he really loved you. I have no doubt that if he was alive now, that he would support you.”

“It’s just that . . . Ryal has disowned me,” Gark said, returning to his seat. “I called her the other day . . . and . . . she didn’t want to talk to me, finally stating that I’m no longer her sibling. It was devastating, especially after I helped her through her dark times a few years back . . .”

“Aye, that would be a crushing blow,” Fred said. “I understand how that feels, at least to an extent. When your parents died in that accident, I was distraught. I didn’t leave my house here for several weeks afterwards because I was overcome by grief. Even though I had become an estranged brother, your father was still family to me, and given our cultures’ kinship, I was deeply affected by his passing. But, you know what? I didn’t give in; I kept pressing on, knowing that he would have wanted me to. The same goes for you; if you really want to right the situation, you need to press on. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, and take action. It’s the only way you’ll ever get over this.”

“But I can’t . . . it’s too hard . . .” Gark said.

“Hard?” Fred said, laughing. “And you think your life up to this point was a piece of cake, right? Look, kid, I saw you grow up in utter poverty, yet you persevered. You went to college, got damn fine marks, graduated with a solid degree, and got a job in a giant corporation, even when people doubted your skills. Then, you climbed up the corporate ladder in a relatively short amount of time, and then you took on Limmie duties on top of that, leading a team whose name had been mud for so long and molding them into a championship winner in one season! Then, on top of that even, you coached them to another title plus a lot more victories, and you got several awards in the process. I don’t know what you’re telling yourself, but from my point of view, this whole battle of yours right now should be pretty easy in comparison.”

“But I still had a network of support back then,” Gark said, still downcast.

“Hey, you have me,” Fred said. “I believe that you can fight through this, even if no one else does.”

“Do you believe what I’m saying, though?” Gark asked. “I didn’t do anything to deserve this kind of treatment. All those stories are lies. Mornd’s the one at fault, not me. I’m just not sure how to prove to everyone that they painted the wrong image of me . . .”

“Look, kid, I believe in whatever you say because I’m your uncle. I’ve always known that you had high integrity. Now, if you’ve been feeding me a load of crap, and you are indeed guilty of those crimes, then you can burn in whatever purgatory place you believe in from whatever hokey religion or cult you believe in for all eternity. But, if you are truly innocent, and you’ve been framed for something that you had no part in, then you need to show the rest of the galaxy that you aren’t afraid to push back.
When life knocks you down, you get right back up and keep fighting. I just wish that I had heeded that advice back when I was in your position, because I chose the easy path of hiding away from my past instead of taking the tough road that would have eventually paid off. And not a day goes by that I don’t regret that, because look at me now. You’re the first real visitor I’ve had in a long time; all of my friends have been out of contact for the better part of twenty years, and I’m generally miserable. Don’t make the same mistakes that I did, kid. So you’ve hit a small bump in life; big deal. You need to buck up and make the change you want to see.”

“You really think you can do it?” Gark asked. For the first time, he was feeling that Uncle Fred was finally giving him some good advice.

“You’re a S’rily, and we never back down from your challenge,” Fred said. “I never shied away from the odds, your father always gutted it out even when the going got tough, and you made a mockery of all your critics in school and at work. I’d say that you’re cut out of the same cloth that your father was, and having known him for a long time, that means a lot. Now, are you going to sit down on your laurels and let that crazy guy step all over you?”

“No,” Gark said.

“Are you going to let life roll over you, and let your sister disown you?”

“No.”

“Are you going to fight back because you can?”

“Yes,” Gark said.

“Good. There’s your advice,” Fred said, reclining back in his chair once again. “If that’s all you needed me for, you’re welcome, and hopefully you’ll be successful in all your endeavors from here on. I’ll be following your progress from here as always, because I believe that you’re worth something, even if you don’t think so.”

“I’m just nervous about returning,” Gark said. “It’s going to be a long road.”

“Then meet it head-on and don’t back down,” Fred replied. “Although I don’t think you should, you could always imagine yourself as a masked man who has been severely wronged in his life looking to redeem the corrupt society he lives in by taking no prisoners or excuses. Perhaps they would even name a HoloFilm after you someday, loosely based upon your struggle against the corporation who destroyed your life.”

“And I suppose that this fantasy version of myself would wear a pale white mask with a sappy grin on it, with a top hat, long black cape, and tall boots. Not to mention the hordes of knives hidden in the folds of the cape that I would use to kill my enemies,” Gark said sarcastically.

“You know what, that doesn’t sound half bad,” Fred said, cracking a grin. “I think it would be called ‘G for Vendetta’, or something like that. ‘One Bothan is on a mission to fight for justice against those who have oppressed him’. Hm, I should write that screenplay and make big credits on it.” He laughed heartily.

“Except I don’t think that they would look at my case too kindly after I’d killed several people by throwing knives at them,” Gark replied, cocking an eyebrow.

“That’s not the point, my boy,” Fred said. “If you want to be successful on this vendetta of yours, instead of using knives and fighting skills, you need wits and a complete knowledge of galactic law in order to top your foes. If you can do that, you’ll have a chance to come out ahead in the face of the impossible.”

“All right,” Gark said. He stood up and turned to leave, but some scraping on the floor made him stop. He looked back at his grizzled old uncle, who stopped right next to the younger Bothan.

“You’re not going to come out all this way without giving ol’ Uncle Fred a hug, would you?” the elder Bothan said. The two then embraced, Gark sure that this was the first time he had done so in a long, long time.

“Thanks for everything,” Gark said. “I won’t let you down, I promise.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Fred said. “As long as you don’t let yourself down, then you’ve won the battle. It doesn’t matter if I get disappointed in the process, because this is all about you. You need to face your fears and let them know that you won’t be pushed around. Make them fear you, and only then will you understand what I mean.”

The two Bothans released each other, and Gark walked out the door. As he strode down the street, he realized that, instead of all the pent-up anger towards Mornd that he had been harboring when he had come, that a wave of positivity had washed over him. Uncle Fred was right; he had been through far worse before, and he hadn’t let that stop him, so why start now? It was odd knowing that he finally had some confidence; for months, he had been a depressive pessimist, complaining that nothing was working. But now he had something to drive him, something that he hoped would get him to the elusive light at the end of the tunnel. Calo Mornd was going to be sorry that he had pissed Gark off. Mornd was going to meet his worst nightmare, and Gark was going to make sure that the human felt his presence by the time everything was said and done.

[hr]

Pam came back from practice, weary from all the times she had had to blow the whistle. It seemed like the players on the Force had gotten rusty during the ‘Great Quiet’, and they just didn’t seem as sharp as they had been before. Riff Persnor was on the top of his game, but he had practiced and played a game during that time; everyone else hadn’t had that luxury, and so Pam had to start from Square One again just to get them all back in sync with one another. She waited for Gark to pop up and welcome her back, but he was nowhere to be found. But, he was probably at the library like he usually was, trying to cram as much into his brain as possible. It was a shame, really, because on her way back Pam had stopped by a local pawn shop, where she had seen a pair of delightful-looking Langann trophies for sale at dirt cheap prices. The owner, who apparently was a voracious Force fan, had sold them to Pam for only a few credits each, given that the name on the trophies wasn’t worth a premium anymore, and they had been sitting in the shop for weeks without being sold. Apparently Gark’s name wasn’t worth nearly as much as it used to be, even when it was on one-of-a-kind trophies.

As she sat down on the sofa to mindlessly watch some HoloNet, she realized that she was sitting on something. Standing up, she reached down and picked up a piece of flimsy that had been left on the couch. The piece looked a little tattered, but it was still legible.

[I]Pam,[/I]

[I]I’ve left of my accord, and I’m headed to Coruscant now to face my destiny, whatever that may entail. Note that I will most likely not succeed, but I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate all that you did for me over the past few months. I couldn’t have asked for a kinder stay, and I’m glad that at least you believed in me. Thanks for everything, and I hope to thank you in person when all this blows over. Don’t bother trying to contact me, because as of now I am off the grid as far as communications go. But, if you don’t hear from me soon, I’ll probably be rotting in some filthy jail cell, but at least then my conscience will be clear. [/I]

[I]Again, thanks for everything, and good luck the rest of this season.[/I]

[I]Yours truly,[/I]

[I]G[/I]

The initial ‘G’ had been written in extremely flowery writing, which made Pam wonder why the Bothan had taken the time to be that precise with his handwriting. So now he had gone, ready to face his fate in the courts. Pam had to commend his courage; he certainly had guts. But it was going to be an uphill battle, and most likely he was going to lose. All she could do was hope that he would come out all right, because that’s what friends were for. Placing the flimsy down on the end table, Pam flipped on the HoloNet, instantly getting immersed in the endless stream of SportsCenter programming. Gark was on his own; now he needed to deliver a miracle.

 

IC: Alana Glencross
Miners Hotel, Vandelhelm

It was good to be back together, all of them, even if they were on the road and getting ready to take on the defending Galactic Cup champions, the Jets. It had been a warm reunion with hugs, slaps on the back, and smiles. But John Talley had put them back to work.

"You're not ready," Talley said, "You've had how long without a team practice? Too long. We need to get back into fighting shape."

And so the practices had begun again, intense and fast. There wasn't much time until the season began and they needed to essentially relearn the playbook and get used to playing together again. The practices had already been long and hard. Nobody liked them, but Alana knew they were paying off. She was already falling back into her familiar rhythm with Everett again. And it had been as part of their quick reacquaintance that Alana had come up with an idea that Everett had immediately loved.

As was traditional, the team came together for dinner at the end of the day in one of the conference rooms at the team hotel. It was a time to relax after the rigors of the day, and tonight it was going to have a little fun too.

"Okay guys, if I can get your attention," Midfield Coach Gaeriel Valerii said, trotting up to the front of the room, "It turns out that we've got a bit of a surprise for all of you tonight. It turns out we have a very esteemed visitor. You all know him from his breakout season last year--allow me to present to you Phil Brooks!"

The Miners looked oddly at each other until in from a side door came Everett North in a green and white Jets jersey, hair done up like the star Jets forward. Trailing behind him was a pigtailed Alana in a similar Jets jersey. North waved and feigned receiving the adoration of the entire room, which was mainly jeering him good naturedly. "Thank you, thank you, my adoring fans from throughout the galaxy. It is I, Phil Brooks, the greatest Limmie player that is, ever has been, and ever shall be."

"Gee willikers!" Alana said, her voice elevated to a high pitch, "You're so cool! I feel lucky to just be within 100 meters of you!"

"Well, you are," Everett said smuggly, "After all, this is me that we're talking about here."

"Phil, I feel so lucky to be a member of the Jets with you. I mean, we won a Galactic Cup last year," Alana said, "I mean, if that's what you did in your first season, what are we going to do now?"

"Well, let me tell you something about that," Everett said, laying a hand paternally on Alana's shoulder. And then he began singing, accompanied by music from Gaeriel's datapad piped into the sound system of the conference room.


"I've always had the hope
That on the day I retire from Limmie
Commissioner Kayl'hen will shake my hand
And say, 'You've done an awesome job, Brooksy'"

Now it's our time to go out..."

"Our best player," Alana added admiringly as she made moon eyes at Everett.

"And play some damn fine Limmie
And we can do it together, you and me
But mostly me!

"You and me, but mostly me
Are gonna change the world forever
'cause I can do most everything."

"And I can stand next to you and watch!" Alana added enthusiastically.

"Every hero needs a sidekick
Every captain needs a mate..."

"Aye, Aye!" Alana interjected with a salute.

"Every dinner needs a side dish..."

"On a slightly smaller plate," Alana pointed out helpfully.

"And now we're seeing eye to eye
It's so great, we can agree

That Yore Vex Ten has chosen you and me," they sang together.


"Just mostly me," Everett finished.

"Something incredible
I'll do something incredible
I wanna win more than
Everyone else combined..."

"Our best player," Alana added once again, totally transfixed by the joyous apparition that was Phil Brooks.

"Something I've foreseen
As number nineteen
I'll do something incredible
That blows their freaking mind!"

"And as long as we stick together," they sang in unison.

"(And I stay out of your way," Alana threw in.

"Out of my way!" Everett suddenly interjected, pushing Alana aside.

"We'll change the world forever
And then tomorrow a winning day!" Alana sang as she regained her balance.

"Mostly me!" Everett belted out again, as if the subject of the song was ever in doubt.

"So quit singing about it and do it," Alana said, turning to North.

"How ready and psyched are we
And life is about to change for you
And life is about to change for me
And life is about to change for you and me," they sang together again.

"But me mostly
And there's no limit to
What we can do
Me and you," Phil added, once again putting a nurturing hand on Alana's shoulder.

Only to shove her off stage suddenly and finish with a grand vocal flourish of, "But mostly meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

The Miners stood and applauded, some of them like Corrie Anderson still laughing uproariously at the not so subtly mockery of the face of the Jets. It was all good fun.

But what nobody realized was one of the hotel servers had caught it all going down on her datapad and recorded the entire thing. It was shortly to be on its way to local Holonet stations on Vandelhelm and doubtless it was going to get picked up by the wider galactic sports media too.

Yeah, that probably wasn't going to be pretty.

Tag: JediMaster1511

 

IC Beskaryc Taab
Team Offices, Mando'ade Mercs, Meshla Vhetin, Manda'yaim

It was over, finally. Terms had been reached with the shabla Refereee's Union and the Great Quiet had come to an end. The terms were not exactly what Taab would have liked, but they were close enough and at least now the season could resume. There had been talk amongst the ownders that the rest of the season would have been in jeopardy had the strike lasted much longer. Taab had argued against such. Despite its popularity, he didn't feel the league could withstand such a blow. They would have broken the public trust and that was something not easily regained. He hated the idea of stadiums half full for meshgeroya matches, especially given the expense of keeping a gragantuan stadium like the Meshla Vhetin running.

No one (except Taab) had seemed to like the idea of replacement refs from the college ranks either. The various heads of Conferences there balked at losing the cream of their officiating crop to the professional leagues. The refs at the college level were standing with their professional bretheren and refused to cross the picket line, and many of the other owners felt that negotiation was better then replacement in terms of public perception.

It was then that Taab had an idea, replace the striking refs with droid referees. They would not be susceptable to grudges or preconceived notions about a player or team. They would be used only as a stop gap, to continue on the season until the Union and the owners came to an agreement. They were to be specifically built and programmed for the ELL, they would have no issues crossing a picket line. Best yet, Taab had announced the initiative himself, he would fund their devolopment and lease them to the league.

It had caused an uproar of course, many claimed that the droids would be programed to favor the Mercs. Others felt that droids wouldn't have the instinct needed to see the ebs and flow of any given matchup and would be unable to "control" the pitch. Of course neither group of detractors knew the truth. There was no project under way, it was a bluff to try to get the Union back to the table and end the Great Quiet.

Taab handled question after question, week after week about the droid refs on his college meshgeroya tour. He never went into speciifics of course, but he managed to keep the threat alive. A month later a deal had been reached and the ELL was back in business. Taab had no idea if his ploy had worked, or if it was just coincidence, but he didn't care. The Great Quiet was over. Professional Meshgeroya was back!

Of course that led to its own set of problems. The Mercs had done well keeping their players in shape, and after the disaster of not knowing where Kor'le was prior to the All-Star game, had
managed to keep tabs on everyone as well. That conditioning had helped the Mercs do well during the great quiet, they had not only won their tournament (a fact that was still being touted all around Manda'yaim) but their representatives had also done well in the All-Star game, the final score notwithstanding.

But their first game back would be a challenge. The Monarchs were undefeated midway through this split season, while the Mercs were just on the outside looking in at a playoff position. This game could be a statement game. By knocking the top team down a notch and also putting themselves back into playoff contention, the Mercs could take charge of the Post Great Quiet ELL. Taab wasn't sure they could do it, there were so many variables now and this eemed more like opening day at the Meshla Vhetin than a mid-season matchup. Despite his uncertainty though Taab couldn't help grinning from ear to ear under his buy'ce. The beautiful game was back.

TAG: CPL_Macja

 

GM Post

Yes, that long awaited day has come! Actual scores for the Elite League teams! Bonus rolls to Bakura, Coruscant, Mando'ade, Nadiem, Nar Shaddaa, and Onderon.

Elite League Limmie
Week 4 Results
Rydonni Prime Monarchs at Mando’ade Mercs (26-34)
Euceron Storm at Nadiem Chiefs (16-3)
Coruscant Senators at Nar Shaddaa Smugglers (11-9)
Bakura Miners at Vandelhelm Jets (12-27)

Galactic Championship Limmie Association
Week 4 Results
Genet Vornskrs at Kuat Triforce (2-0)
Alsakan Flyers at Onderon Crazy Dragons (25-9)
Chandrila Patriots at Agamar Packers (8-10)
Corellia Rebels at Ryloth Rough Riders (24-27)

Tag: Bardan_Jusik CPL_Macja Dubya_Scott jcgoble3 JEDI_TEEGIRLOO JEDIGUNSHIP JediMaster1511 JediMaster_1977 Liam_Vehn

 

PLL Update

Week 4
Bison Sabres at Tatooine Sandskimmers (18-8)
Kessel Runners at Mon Calamari Mariners (5-33)
Thyferra Force at Fondor Freedom (16-5)
Kamino Waves at Naboo Ducks (20-21)
Bastion Imperial LC at Toprawa Torpedoes (15-28)
Denon Demons at Hapes Consortium Buccaneers (26-22)
Druckenwell Marksmen at Cloud City Sky Captains (14-9)
Kashyyyk Rangers at Concordia Crusaders (18-32)
Balmorra Blasters at Commenor Gundarks (24-18)

 

IC Post

The opening shot is of Bakura Gardens, an empty stadium, calm, quiet, dignified.

NARRATOR: It is perhaps the most storied rivalry in the galaxy.

On the screen come a series of quick cuts of fast hits, of blue jerseys on maroon jerseys before cutting to footage of an equally serene Six Boroughs Stadium.

NARRATOR: Of all the franchises in the Elite League, the two are the longest tenured Outer Rim Limmie teams. Between them they can claim 14 Galactic Cup championships and 27 Final appearances.

Footage of players lifting the Galactic Cup above their head, including the edelweiss-laureled Dana Roslyn and the gritty, intense Rhia Grames who defined her franchise flash across the screen.

NARRATOR: They are the Bakura Miners and the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers, the teams that meet annually in the Black & Blue Battle. They play for the Old Whiskey Trophy--

The trophy, a crystal decanter, as the narrator continues.

NARRATOR: --a recent institution but one that underscores the intensity of the game.

The feed cuts to a one-on-one interview with the Miners head coach.

"BIG JOHN" TALLEY: From having been in the college game for so long, I know something about rivalries and let me tell you--they don't get bigger than this.

NARRATOR: This season, the holocameras will be in the locker rooms, at practices, and following the players on both teams as they prepare for the Black & Blue Battle. This, is Smugglers/Miners 24/7.



After the credits sequence, the establishing shot is of the Jets' stadium on Vandelhelm.

NARRATOR: The Great Quiet is over. The Miners are back to work against the defending Galactic Cup champions, the Vandelhelm Jets.

The footage switches to pregame footage of John Talley. "Look, it's not how I would have liked to come back after such a long break. On the road, not much practice time, against the defending champions...but that's the schedule, you know? We'll do the best we can."

NARRATOR: It has been an active midseason break for the Miners, in particular their captain, Alana Glencross. Given the A by new General Manager Quinn Cundertol at the start of the season, the Miners went to the Semifinal in the Chancellor's Cup before being defeated by the eventual champions, the Thyferra Force. Glencross was then named to the HSN All-Star Game on Cloud City where her team fell short by one point of a victory. Even so, Glencross was one of the highest scoring players on either team.

Footage of these events play as the narrator speaks, before cutting to interview footage with Alana.

GLENCROSS: The Great Quiet...well, I would have liked to have taken home the Chancellor's Cup. It's been over 10 years since the Miners have won the Galactic Cup. We could have used the boost. The All-Star Game was fun, and an honor obviously, but I definitely felt like I lagged at the end of the game there. It convinced me I was out of peak condition and I spent the rest of the Quiet fixing that.

NARRATOR: The Miners' captain does not talk about what she did to fix that. Indeed, the redhead has been tight lipped about what she only once referred to as "conditioning". But perhaps that is because the Miners had more on their minds.

Cut to footage of the Glencross and North musical number at the team hotel.

NARRATOR: Footage leaked to the Holonet of a tongue-in-cheek parody of star Jets' forward Phil Brooks, performed by the Miners midfield duo, complete with musical accompaniment. The irreverent ode quickly made local headlines on Vandelhelm. If their play in their game was any indication, the Jets were not amused.

Footage from the Miners-Jets game is shown, particularly of hard hits by Jets players putting the Miners onto the turf. Alana Glencross is tackled and fumbles the ball, recovered by the Jets. Everett North too is taken down hard.

NARRATOR: Mental mistakes cost the Miners more than anything else as they miss several bar points and give up points on penalties to the Jets, who had struggled thus far in the season. However, the Miners struggles are apparently greater.

DORF LANDA: Obviously this isn't good. Tied for last in the league, 1-3. This was a game we needed to win. We needed it badly. And we didn't get it.

ADANNA INVIERE: We let this one get away from us. The Jets were pumped and we didn't match their intensity. I'm not going to blame the Great Quiet. They were off for the same period of time too. There's no excuse. Absolutely no excuse.

NARRATOR: Inviere, the former Senator, lost to the Jets last season in the Galactic Cup Final. She was part of a rebuilding effort of the Miners led by their new General Manager, brought in by Supreme Chancellor Kerry Trieste after the departure of Dana Roslyn.

The video cuts to footage of Cundertol in a box at the game.

NARRATOR: Quinn Cundertol, formerly an assistant GM with the Eriadu Slicers, was an unexpected hire by the Miners. Many had expected Briar Thorne, the GM of the Miners' development associate the Bison Sabres, to take over when Roslyn left. However, the largely unknown Cundertol was hired by Chancellor Trieste and given carte blanche to do what was needed to get the team back into contention. He immediately revamped the roster, traded for Inviere, demoted popular players to the Sabres, and brought in something not seen in decades on the Miners: non-Humans. Thus far, Cundertol's experiment has yet to show any gains.

CUNDERTOL: I'm not happy with where we are. Not at all. This time last year the Miners were 0-4. That doesn't make where we are any more acceptable. However, this team has seen radical change. When you have that sort of change, immediate results are not always quick in coming. But I am not going to sit idly by. Our fans expect winning and they expect it now.

TALLEY: The odds are against us from hereon out. At 1-3, we have zero margin for error. In a four team playoff set, there is no way you don't make the playoffs without four wins. No way at all. Even with four wins if we lose the wrong games for the tiebreak, we could still find ourselves on the outside looking in. The Smugglers game is about a lot more than the rivalry this year; it's about our lives here.

NARRATOR: Talley has good reason to take the game seriously. Since the start of the season rumors have swirled that Cundertol requested permission to pay off Talley's last year on his contract outright so he could fire the coach. Chancellor Trieste refused. Neither party has validated the rumors, but they have hung over the team all season long and relations between the Head Coach and General Manager appear to be infrequent. Indeed, after the loss to Vandelhelm, neither speak to each other on their way out of the stadium.

GLENCROSS: I've been accused of being an underachiever all my life and it's followed me to the Elite League. Evening up my record in the Black & Blue Battle would be a good start to changing that.

Tag: Liam_Vehn

 

IC: Reggie Dun'lop, Med Braden (Nadiem Chiefs)
Location: Char'les'town, Nadiem, Outer Rim

Week 4 was a tough and embarrassing loss to the Storm. The Chiefs were now officially tied for last place. The following morning, Coach Dun'lop got up early to take a walk and clear his head. He had to make some changes or they would become the laughing stock of the Elite League. Sure, they made the Cup Final a few years ago, and made it to the Semi-Finals the following year. But that may have just been a couple of those "rags-to-riches" seasons. They've been in last place ever since.

Reg would have to bring those Premier League players up to the Chiefs, shake up the roster a bit. He hated the idea of kicking some of the Chiefs down to the PLL, but that's how it was in professional sports. Those guys became like family to him. The last thing he wanted to do was send them to Kashyyyk to play for the Rangers.

Reg suddenly lost his train of thought when he heard someone say his name.

He spun around to see his Chiefs captain Med Braden approaching him.

"Mind if I walk with you?" Braden asked.

"Sure, kid. Why the hell not."

The two of them walk for a while in the early morning air when they came to one of the food processing plants. As they walked alongside the large durasteel building, Braden said, "You hear they're shutting this place down?"

"Yeah," Reg responded.

"Apparently the farming planet doesn't have enough money to run it's own food processing plants."

"I know, Braden," Reg said to him. "I watch the HoloNet."

Braden looked up at the building as the walked. "Tons of them are closing around the planet. Gonna put thousands of beings out of work."

"Forcing them off-world," Reg continued. "I told you, I already know." He paused. "If the Nadiem people don't have money or aren't living here at all, it's gonna hurt Chiefs ticket sales."

Braden added, "The damn Core Worlds don't care about us way out here. They can get plenty of processed food from numerous planets that are closer and easier to reach."

As they passed the processing plant, Reggie's mind began to run a mile a minute. Ideas started popping up in his head. Maybe there was some way to help Nadiem's financial crisis. Something he and the Chiefs could do. Something the sport of limmie could do.

Maybe...

TAG: no one in particular...

 

IC Post




The camera, fixed on the skyline of Nar Shaddaa, catches the soul of the city in accelerated motion. The lights of speeders and public transportation zoom by in red and white blurs. People come and go to work at a frenzied pace. Construction resumes on yet another skyscraper.

NARRATOR: The Vertical City never sleeps. Always in motion, the city is unlike any other in the galaxy. Night is constant as are the highly trained police force. Commerce is at an all time high with the signing of an historic agreement between the Republic and the Roon Trade Organization. Thousands of vessels come and go as they like bringing messages of good and evil and with them the fortunes of the Smugglers Moon.

The camera shows a series of quick cuts of shady characters meeting in dark alleys, heavily armed police on crowded city sidewalks and of people partying at a popular night club.

NARRATOR: The people of the Vertical City have much to celebrate. The Great Quiet has officially ended and for the first time in over forty years, Nar Shaddaa will host the Galactic Cup Final.

A slow motion shot of the crowd at Six Boroughs going wild and rioting (read celebrating) after their last Final victory in 267.

NARRATOR: Three years removed from their last Galactic Cup victory, the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers find themselves in the thick of playoff contention. But two weeks of intense rivalry games have taken their toll. Last week, the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers stumbled against the Coruscant Senators in a defensive battle. Even without Gark S’rily, the Senators were still able to vanquish the burgundy and black in a close match.

Images of the Senators-Smugglers game are shown. Costly mistakes are focused on as the Smugglers are narrowly defeated 11-9. A tired looking Meredith Chambers trudges off the field, grass stains over her jersey, disappointment etched on her face.

NARRATOR: If the Smugglers are to advance into the playoffs this year they must first take on their old foe, the Bakura Miners.

Highlight reels from some of the greatest games played between the Miners and Smugglers are shown. A collage of blood, sweat, and tears.

NARRATOR: The struggle against a rival is never easy. This year, it was made even more difficult by the suspension of Elite League play for what seemed to be an interminable amount of time. Now that the greatest game the galaxy has ever known has returned, the players are pushing themselves into even greater shape. No one has pushed themselves harder than star goalkeeper Meredith Chambers.

The camera pans across a lonely Six Boroughs as Meredith Chambers runs a tour de stade. The image cuts to her face at the end, sweat pouring off her skin, hair matted, eyes tired but focused. Another transition, Chambers gritting her teeth as she slips into a bath full of ice cubes. The image shifts to Meredith Chambers barking out defensive commands to her teammates during practice. Her burgundy and black gloves seem to glow in the indoor practice facility. The voice of Chambers comes over the image as an interview begins.

MEREDITH CHAMBERS: Always pushing myself. Always have something to prove. I can’t rest on my laurels. The rest of the league doesn’t do that, why should I? So I won the Limmie All Star Game, big deal. We lost a game that really mattered against Coruscant last night. A game we should’ve won. But we made too many mistakes, I made too many mistakes.

NARRATOR: Chambers has put a lot of pressure on herself to improve following her dismal performance on Bespin earlier this season. Despite allowing a phenomenal amount of points in the first half, Meredith closed out the game with a solid showing and helped Team SoruSuub win the first ever Limmie All Star Game. But fellow teammates are quick to point out that it will take more than a strong showing by Meredith Chambers to win against the Miners.

SASHA LUY’KIN: Yeah, I played in the All Star game. Helped mobilize SoruSuub to win but it was only a small role. Playing with a bunch of athletes who have only had one practice together is a real test of skill. Meredith is a great player but she’s only one small piece of the pie. There are fourteen others out there on the pitch who represent the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers and we all have to play better to get a win against Bakura. Will the game be physical?

The camera slowly zooms in on Sasha.

LUY’KIN: You bet.

NARRATOR: Playing a physical game of Limmie is a way of life for the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers. Recent rule changes threaten to destroy that way of life. General Manager Vincent Cutter has built this particular squad to be bruising, powerful, and unyielding in the face of a bully. Cutter has come under fire from the league recently for encouraging his coaches to reward hard knock to opposing players.

Camera cuts to a shot of Cutter’s office. He is on his comlink talking with league headquarters.

VINCENT CUTTER: Yeah, I’m aware that Facin delivered a face changing blow to the Senators. That happens. That’s part of the—excuse me? You telling me that we aren’t allowed to tackle that way anymore? A sportsmanship award, please, that’s insane. We’re playing professional Limmie here not cooking cupcakes for the local urban scout project. You want to fine my team? Go the frak ahead!”

NARRATOR: The Nar Shaddaa Smugglers are playing a high stakes game. There are currently four teams with a 2-2 record heading down the stretch. One mistake down the schedule and what could be a playoff spot might just be a ticket to watch the post
season from home. The team, possessing the third ranked offense, has thrived under veteran Helena Forsythe who was traded back to the Smugglers after a successful stint with the Senators.

The camera shows Forsythe adjusting her jersey in the locker room.

FORSYTHE: Feels good to wear the burgundy and black again but I will admit I miss those guys on Coruscant. Seeing them the other day brought back a lot of memories. Course, not a whole lot remains of that team. They’ve been gutted like a fish. I enjoyed several winning seasons with the Senators but I’m ready to play hard here and get back to what I love the best, being a Smuggler. Part of that tradition means playing a tough game against the Miners. The team has named me captain. I’m going to do the best I can to lead us to victory.

NARRATOR: Re-using old talent has been a trademark of the franchise for years. Retreads and reclamation projects have been the bread and butter of the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers. They are an organization that takes care of their players and prides themselves on honoring past commitments.

CHAMBERS: I’m not getting any younger.

The camera slowly zooms in on Chambers face which grows taut and emotional. Her lower lip starts to tremble as she struggles to find the words.

CHAMBERS: Every hit hurts a little worse in this league. You start to count your blessings, enjoy every play, every moment, because in the blink of an eye it could be gone. Smugglers versus Miners? It doesn’t get any better than this.

 

Sam Poland
Great Iziz Field

Sam was beside herself. She couldn’t believe that the Crazy Dragons dropped another game. This made them 2-2 in the standings. She knew she had to make sure that the team was practicing harder than ever. She didn’t invest her money in a team that was going to losing every week. Sam hated watching HSN which portrayed the dragons as a bumbling circus of a team.

Sportscaster: The Onderon Crazy Dragons losst another game making it two in a row losing to the Alsakan Flyers. Brad Pamjer had a rough day keeping the goals away, while captain and all-star Jenna Leed had a hard time scoring for the Crazy Dragons.

Sam didn’t want to hear anymore it was bad enough that she had to go and talk to the owner and reassure him that the team is on the right track. Sam went in to the office of the owner of the Crazy Dragons Tom Shannon who was a good friend of Sam’s.

“Samantha good of you to come.”

“No problem anything for you Tom.”

“I’m worried about the direction of the team Sam, we lost two games in a row and if this continues we won’t make the playoffs.” He said with a worried expression on his face.

“The losses are disheartening but there is still more games to play. If we can get the upper hand in the remaining games there may still be hope for the dragons yet. Let’s not get discouraged. This is a young team and we just got in to the GCLA. We should be proud of our accomplishments so forth. “

“In the meantime i plan to be more involved in the practices.”

“Even more than you are now?”

Sam chuckled “Yes I will make sure that the team is working harder than ever to make you feel at ease. I’m sure we will be winning in no time once again.”


TAG: No one

 

IC

NARRATOR: The offseason saw many changes for the Miners. One of them was a familiar face returning to Bakura. Half back Adanna Inviere left the Miners when Roslyn instituted a salary system in which all players shared in a salary pool that paid them equally. She landed with the Coruscant Senators where she won a Galactic Cup with the Senators in 268 and returned to the Final in 269. When Quinn Cundertol came in as General Manager, he orchestrated a three team trade that brought Inviere back to the Miners.

The feed cuts to an interview with Inviere.

INVIERE: I liked playing for the Miners, but back then I had to do what was right for me at the time. It was a good move, but it was also a good move to come back to the Miners. I like it here.

NARRATOR: There is one aspect of life that the Hapan is not fond of: the fact that she is not the only Hapan on the team.

Cut to footage of Corrie Anderson in practice.

NARRATOR: The season prior, the Miners acquired Corrie Anderson from their archrivals, the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers. Anderson's entire professional career has been spent on teams where Inviere played for a rival. They now sit on opposite sides of the locker room from each other--literally.

DORF LANDA (interview): I'm not going to lie--there's some tension as a result of it. But they're both professionals. They don't let it get in the way of their play. I'd be lying if I said that they were best buddies.

NARRATOR: The two seem disinclined to discuss what sparked their mutual dislike.

ANDERSON (interveiw): I'm not talking about it.

Cut to Inviere sitting silently at the camera, clearly not pleased to have been asked about the topic.

NARRATOR: Intrateam rivalries aside, the Miners are focused on their upcoming game against the Smugglers and spend considerable time watching holo footage to prepare, both as a group as well as in individual units.

The footage is of John Talley showing plays from the previous week's Smugglers/Senators game.

TALLEY: Turnovers, turnovers, turnovers. They gave them up all day long against the Senators. Points off turnovers are going to be the key to this game. I've said it a hundred times and I'll say it a hundred more if that's what it's going to take to get us to start capitalizing on these opportunities. Chambers is a keeper you can beat. Hands down. We're getting them at home, away from Six Boroughs. The crowd's behind us. We need points early to get them behind us and keep them there, get in their heads.

NARRATOR: Though general philosophy is thrown around, so are specifics.

TALLEY: Look, see here how Luy'kin opens up when she's looking to pass. She scans the field. We need pressure on her, force her to make a bad decision, then capitalize on it. When they've got the ball, we need to run a zone offense, fool them into thinking that they've got open lanes and then we pounce. We've run this before at both ends of the field. It's nothing radical here and it plays to our strength.

NARRATOR: Individual unit sessions are equally detail-oriented and illuminating.

Cut to the Midfield meeting with Gaeriel Valerii diagramming with Glencross and North and the backup midfielders.

VALERII: It's about balance when playing the Smugglers. More often than not if we bring two up we're going to get punished for it. We've got to use a seesaw here. Ev--you have got to be defensively responsible. You can't allow us to get outnumbered down low in the D zone. I don't want to see their mids below our line of scrimmage e-ver. You hear me? E-VER.

NORTH: Yeah, but if they're giving us the offensive zone, we've got to capitalize. We've got to.

VALERII: It's a trap you idiot. You think you're going to score on Chambers from halfway down the field? You're not. They're trying to suck you in, spring their mids as cherry pickers and go. We can only bring one and that's got to be selective Red. If you want to play offense you're in the wrong position. If Ev's got two back pushing him you need to pick them up.

GLENCROSS: If we do that we're allowing them to dictate the pace of the game! Are we going to give them control of that.

VALERII: We let them dictate the pace if we give them the ball! This is a possession game! Possess the ball and we control what happens! Smart passes guys! Make yourselves open when we've got control and we win. It's that simple!

North rolls his eyes.

NORTH: I don't like this. It's too passive.

VALERII: Do you want to beat the Smugglers? Because going deep into their zone is not going to beat them. They will capitalize! How many times do I have to say this?

NARRATOR: The Midfield Coach will say it another three times before the end of the meeting.

Tag: Liam_Vehn

 

IC: Pamila Korthe
Fondor

“Drop the hammer!” Pam yelled at her offensive unit. The Thyferra Force were currently leading the Fondor Freedom 11-5 in an Inner Rim/Colonies Conference matchup. A win here would push the force to 3-1 on the season, with two wins in conference, while a loss would drop the Force to 2-2 and put them in a more precarious position in the 1-1 conference record logjam. Riff Persnor, coming off an appearance in the HSN All-Star Game, seemed to be the only starter on offense who wasn’t looking rusty, and dodged yet another Freedom defender on his way to the goal. The Cathar was then confronted by a taller Fondorian, and was forced to pass to a slashing Wylega Zola. Zola, brought over in the Adanna Inviere-Leroy Brown trade from the Euceron Storm, easily faked out the goalie and burned a shot into the net. Goal for the Force, assist Persnor, 14-5 Thyferra late in the game.

Pam did a fist pump on the sideline. That wasn’t exactly how she had drawn up that play, but it was close enough. Persnor and Zola seemed to be developing nice chemistry out there on the field, and the coach had no doubt that they would both make nice additions to any Elite League squad. Maybe not with the Senators, but someone would give them a look if they decided to forgo their Premier League contracts and go up a level, or if they got a camp invite. Either way, someone was bound to give them a look, but for now they were here. When the Freedom put the ball back in play, the Force defense made an easy play and took possession on a dumb turnover, easily setting up an easy bar shot by Dypral to push the lead to 15-5 with only seven minutes left in the game.

Those last few minutes bled off the clock, sealing the 16-5 victory for the Force. After the postgame pleasantries were over, the Force headed back to their locker room in a victorious mood. Pam had to hand it to them; they absolutely shut the Freedom down on both sides of the ball, making them whiff on tackles and cough up the ball when they were driving. It hadn’t exactly been a pretty game, but it had been enough to win handily.

“I want to congratulate you all on a solid effort today,” Pam said to her huddled team. “I know you didn’t have adequate practice these last few months, but you certainly showed that you could overcome that obstacle to put up a good win. Defense, you kept their offense on their toes all day, and that helped Kapp out in goal. Offense, nice job spreading the ball around. I just want to harp a little on turnovers; we need to cut down on those if we want to win against tougher opposition. Midfield, you did your job today by playing both sides of the ball and making their middies feel uncomfortable. Overall, a solid job, but there is still room for improvement. Dismissed.” The players began to change out of their game uniforms, and Pam headed to her office in the visiting locker room. She sat down in the chair, letting her mind wander for a few seconds. The Force were now 3-1, and were setting themselves up nicely for a possible playoff run. They just needed to finish strong if they wanted to earn a playoff berth and make a run for the title.

TAG: No One

 

IC: Beskaryc Taab
Meshla Vhetin, Manda'yaim




Taab was pleased as the Monarchs and Mercs started their game. It was as if the Great Quiet had never occured, or perhaps had even sharpened the fans desire to see good professional meshgeroya. The Dha werda verda brought the crowd to its feet and it seemed as if they never sat down throughout the entire match. And what a match it was. Neither team seemed to suffer too much from their lack of playing during the quiet. Sure there was some rust here and there that had to be worked through, but the fans were not the only ones who felt excited by the game being back. The players felt it too, and their play showed it.

The game itself was a high scoring one, the offense of each team looking sharper than their defense. Through the first half the match swung back and forth, the Mercs would be up by a few points only to see the Monarchs go on a run and take the lead. A Mercs run minutes later would reclaim the lead before surrendering it again. It was an exciting game, which was partly responsible for the crowd's excitment. Taab couldn't think of a better way for the game to come back.

In the second half the Mercs began to pull away. Still the game never seemed out of reach for the Monarchs, all it wouild have taken was one more good run and they could have taken the match. But this was the Merc's day, and by the end of it they had handed the team from Rydonni Prime their first loss of the season. As the team shook the hands of their opponents on the field, Taab set his HUD to display
the scores for the other teams around the league. Half the league now stood at 2-2. With three games left to play, the playoffs were still very much undecided. Taab felt fortunate, not only was this game at home, but so too were the next two matchups before the Mercs had to head to Bakura to close out the season. If the Mercs played out the rest of the season like they had today, by then they should have one of those playoff spots locked up. If not, then Taab would be a very disappointed man.

TAG: CPL_Macja

 

IC: Setarcos Rhemes
Enroute to Coruscant

The last weekend was a rollercoaster of emotions for the head coach of the Monarchs. At the start of the weekend he watched, with his daughter Laura, his alma mater continue their dominance over the GVSU Pilots. It was a close match all the way down to the last second when the Pilot’s star forward fired, what looked like, the game winning goal only to have it turned into an over the bar point.

But then the next day they woke to the noise of game day on Mandalore. He had experienced this once before but for some reason this season it louder. And by the end of the match it was louder still when the Mercs handed the Monarchs their first loss of the season.

Normally he would have held a post game press conference, but the Monarchs’ security swept in and moved them to the Crown Jewel without much of an explanation. Setarcos did not mind much since ahead of them was the biggest challenge yet, the Senators. For two consecutive seasons the Senators have handed them losses and if you add to that their Premier League affiliate, Thyferra Force, they were 0-3 with a differential of -27.

If they don’t win this one they will have the worst record against them than any other team and the Senators would have sole possession of first place in the ELL.

TAG: Jedi Gunny

 

IC: Senators Team

The Rim War game against the Smugglers had been a real brawler. Neither side had given an inch, and the score certainly reflected how much of a slugfest it had been. The Senator defense, much-maligned with the loss of four solid players, held their own against the Smuggler attack, shutting down their attacks and keeping Helena Forsythe away from the goal the entire sixty minutes. By the end, it was 11-9 in Coruscant's favor, which pushed their record to 3-1.

Jet Adama had scored three goals to lead the Senators, and two bar points came from the other forwards to help Coruscant win. Aileen Wynn would undoubtedly take the credit for the win, but the entire team knew that they were the ones making the game plan. They had stopped listening to Wynn long ago, and were now doing what they felt like. Adama especially had decided to thumb his nose at Wynn, and this playing style had netted him three goals. The locker room was completely against Wynn, but until they could show their anger with her, she would still be coach, and that was a prospect that no one on the team wanted. Wynn had to go.

Now they were to return home to face off against the Monarchs, whom they had dominated in recent time. However, those were the old Senators teams, with all of their star players in uniform. Now they had a bunch of backups and castoffs running the show, so anything could happen. They just hoped that Wynn would go and that they could do enough to get noticed by another club and maybe get a new contract during the offseason when the Senators were most likely fold.

TAG: No One

 

PLL Update

Week 5 Results
Commenor Gundarks at Thyferra Force (5-20)
Concordia Crusaders at Kessel Runners (35-2)
Cloud City Sky Captains at Bison Sabres (17-5)
Fondor Freedom at Denon Demons (8-32)
Mon Calamari Mariners at Bastion Imperial LC (20-16)
Tatooine Sandskimmers at Kamino Waves (10-34)
Hapes Consortium Buccaneers at Balmorra Blasters (21-30)
Toprawa Torpedoes at Kashyyyk Rangers (21-29)
Naboo Ducks at Druckenwell Marksmen (1-6)

 

GM Post

"Are you ready for some--"

We're sorry to interrupt this totally awesome Monday Night Meshgeroya theme song, but the somewhat well known singer who performs it recently got into hot water with HSN for saying that "Kerry Trieste and Liam Vehn watching a Limmie game together is like if Mon Mothma and Emperor Palpatine had watched a Limmie game together." What exactly he meant...well, nobody's quite sure, but it got enough people up in arms that we've had to pull the song. So we apologize for lack of an awesome theme song. Instead, please enjoy this.



Bonus rolls to Bakura, Coruscant, Mando'ade, Nadiem, Nar Shaddaa, Onderon, and Rydonni Prime.

Elite League Limmie Scores
Week 5 Results

Nadiem Chiefs at Mando’ade Mercs (20-1)
Vandelhelm Jets at Euceron Storm (15-3)
Nar Shaddaa Smugglers at Bakura Miners (26-16)
Rydonni Prime Monarchs at Coruscant Senators (23-9)

GCLA Scores
Week 5 Results
Alsakan Flyers at Chandrila Patriots (27-28)
Ryloth Rough Riders at Genet Vornskrs (11-31)
Kuat Triforce at Corellia Rebels (8-11)
Onderon Crazy Dragons at Agamar Packers (21-23)

Tag: Bardan_Jusik CPL_Macja Dubya_Scott jcgoble3 JEDI_TEEGIRLOO @JEDIGUNSHIP JediMaster1511 JediMaster_1977 Liam_Vehn

 

IC:

NARRATOR: It is game day morning in Salis D'aar.

The establishing shot is of a large shuttle setting down on a landing pad in Salis D'aar. A military guard is waiting for it. Descending from the shuttle to the salutes of Bakuran Marines is Chancellor Kerry Trieste.

NARRATOR: Chancellor Kerry Trieste, owner of the Miners, has arrived early from Coruscant and the affairs of state. The former UBSD captain has not missed a game since inheriting control of the team from her father.

Trieste speaks to the camera inside of a speeder moving through the city. Thanks to the Chancellor's status, the speeder never stops in traffic.

TRIESTE: The Miners are probably the most important thing to me. If I had to choose between them or being Chancellor...well, it'd be a tough decision.

She smiles before they cut to the interior of the cloistered apartment of Quinn Cundertol where he sits at his kitchen table with eyes closed and hands together as if in prayer.

NARRATOR: In trendy northwestern Salis D'aar, General Manager Quinn Cundertol takes a moment for introspection. He actually takes many moments as he sits like this for an hour, not moving. Indeed, it is in this state that team doctor Han Tunross finds the GM.

Enter Tunross through the door, not immediately finding Cundertol.

TUNROSS: Quinn! Despite all my entreaties to the contrary, Meegan wanted to offer you a ride. Do you--

Tunross stops talking when he finds Cundertol in the kitchen. The doctor looks at the holocameras.

TUNROSS: Oh, right. Yeah, he does this sometimes. Sits there. I think he once did it for an entire day. Have you been filming this whole time because I'd like proof that he really does just sit there. It'd help me settle a--

Before the doctor finishes, Cundertol opens his eyes and is out of the chair in a flash. He seems to pay no mind to the cameras in his apartment.

CUNDERTOL: Come on Han. Vince Cutter isn't dawdling this morning. Neither will we.

Cundertol is out the door and down the stairs before Tunross can reply. The doctor just shrugs to the cameras. Cut to a high rise apartment with transparisteel windows. Sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter, looking out of the windows at the skyline.

NARRATOR: Elsewhere, team captain Alana Glencross prepares for her third Black & Blue Battle. In her rookie year she took home the Old Whiskey Trophy in the trophy's first season and saw it given away the following season at Six Boroughs.

GLENCROSS: The Bloom Bowl with Naboo hasn't happened for years. The Coruscant game is a big one on the schedule, but it's just simply not on the level of the Battle. That's the game that captures your imagination as a kid growing up on Bakura. It's the game everybody remembers. It always sells out no matter what. Both teams could be terrible and the place would still be packed. If you ask any Miner fan if there's only one game they could win each year, they'd say the Smugglers. It's how I feel.

NARRATOR: At Bakura Gardens, gameday preparations begin.

The scene changes to the interior of the BBC broadcasting booth before the feed goes live. With a view of the field behind them are the first year BBC Sports duo, Lun Selayen and Aerax Skytrayn.



SELAYEN: Can I get some whiskey over here? I would really love a whiskey right now.

SKYTRAYN: We're going on in 20 seconds Lun. I don't think that's a good idea.

SELAYEN: I think it's a fantastic idea. I know Jorg over there agrees with me, don't you Jorg? Yes you do.

STAGE MANAGER (OFF SCREEN): On in 10.

SELAYEN: Seriously though, can I get a whiskey over here? Seriously?

The theme music is playing.

SELAYEN: Seriously? Serious--Good afternoon Miner fans and welcome to BBC Sports' presentation of Bakura Miners Limmie. I'm Lyn Selayn.

SKYTRAYN: And I'm Aerax Skytrayn. Today is the Black & Blue Battle and the Miners are fighting for their playoff lives as the Smugglers look to rebound from a tough loss last week in the Rim Series.

SELAYEN: These two bitter rivals will meet here on the hallowed moor of Bakura Gardens for an epic battle royale.

In confusion, Skytrayn looks at Selayen.

SELAYEN: "The moor"?

SKYTRAYN: Yes, the moor. Everybody calls it the moor.

SELAYEN: Nobody calls it that.

SKYTRAYN: I think everybody calls it that.

Skytrayn simply rolls her eyes and the feed cuts to the inside of the Miners locker room where Talley addresses his team.

TALLEY: We've practiced all week, we know what to do. We know what their strengths are. This is our house, this is our game, and it's our trophy and we're going to take it back today. Let's go do it!

NARRATOR: With simple, to the point words, the Miners are energized and hit the field.

Cut to shots of the crowd, eagerly awaiting the team. It is raining and fans huddle underneath ponchos, hats, and jackets.

NARRATOR: Thanks to the Great Quiet, the remainder of the Bakura Miners' season will be played in their rainy season. Today is a particularly tough downpour. The fans who show are a dedicated lot, braving the elements but this is the Black & Blue Battle. It is not a game to be missed. In addition to braving the elements, Miner fans are a musical lot. Perhaps not always in key, but musical all the same. There are the standards, "Molly Malone", "The Molly Maguires"--the two songs that have resulted in the fanbase being called "the Mollies" by some--but today there is a different tune that energizes the crowd and greets their favored athletes.



The scene cuts to the Miners coming down the tunnel in their home dark blues with yellow accents. Alana Glencross, hair pulled back behind her head into a ponytail, leads them out into the rain. As the water begins to plop on her in the open air, she takes off into a run to the cheers of the crowd, followed by her teammates.

NARRATOR: The rain cannot dull the festivities for this is a day looked forward to all the yearround.

Cut to Kerry Trieste, applauding from the owner's box, to a pensive Quinn Cundertol from the General Manager's box, to John Talley, water already streaming off the brim of his hat.

NARRATOR: The rain seems to encourage scoring as both teams go at it early.

A series of clips of scores by both teams are shown, the rain pouring down through it all.

NARRATOR: The early lead goes to the Smugglers. The Miners are not without their chances.

SKYTRAYN (narrating offscreen the action shown): Glencross has a penalty kick from a makeable range here. She looks like she's going to go for the over the bar point here. Squares up, kicks...and she's wide. That's the second missed free kick for the Miners today. You've got to wonder whether that'll hurt them later.

NARRATOR: However, all is not lost. As the first half winds down, the captain goes for redemption.

SKYTRAYN (narrating): Glencross steps up with a pass from Landa, she spins around a Smuggler defender who can't keep his footing and she's got open space...and goal!

SELAYEN (offscreen): Oh that was a thing of beauty--I tell you that was like a beautiful woman. I want to make love to that goal. Slow, sweet passionate love.

SKYTRAYN (offscreen): Oh Maker.

NARRATOR: The Miners hit the locker room with a 10-9 lead.

The scene is inside the Miners locker room is close to chaos as coaches are shouting everywhere, players are debriefing each other, plays are being drawn up. The camera focuses on the midfielders.

NORTH: I swear there's room to step up there! We're gonna lose if I don't step up!

VALERII: No, frak no! You stay back! You are holding them in check.

NORTH: We need to overload the O zone!

VALERII: NORTH! DON'T DO IT! BY FORCE I WILL BENCH YOU IF YOU DO!

Alana interjects herself between the two.

GLENCROSS: Calm the frak down! Everybody!

NARRATOR: In the second half, North decides to take the game into his own hands.

SKYTRAYN (narrating): North has the ball and--oh my God! He's laid out there! He was absolutely leveled! North looks woozy down there after that one.

SELAYEN: I think he got knocked all the way to Vandelhelm with that one. That was not pretty. That was like the opposite of pretty. That was like a Whipid. Ugly, ugly, ugly.

NARRATOR: North gets up on his own, but leaves the field for physical examination. This forces a change of gameplan for the Miners.

The video is on the sideline.

VALERII: Red, you've gotta hang back now. You can't hang a rook out to dry on the back end there. We'll get torched.

GLENCROSS: Our O's struggling. They need me up there.

VALERII: The D needs you back there too. We're barely containing. You've gotta fall back and take the middle of the field away.

There is a moment of silence as the rain pelts them both. Glencross nods her head.

VALERII: Attagirl. You got this.

NARRATOR: The results are not encouraging. The Smugglers offense takes off and targets the rookie midfielder, penetrating the Miners zone easily. The points come fast and furiously. When all is said and done, they put 17 points on the board in the second half and retain the Old Whiskey Trophy by a 10 point margin.

The footage is of a dejected, wet, battered Miners squad leaving the field.

A series of interviews are now shown.

CUNDERTOL: I'm refusing to call this a rebuilding year. But I'm also calling a spade a spade. This season has been a disaster. We've lost to both our rivals and we're not going to the playoffs. Clearly further changes are required.

TRIESTE: I brought Quinn in to shake things up after last year. I understand that building a championship team takes time, but I also expected more than this. No, I'm not happy with this season. Not at all.

TALLEY (he sighs before speaking): Sometimes you just take them on the chin. Today was one of those times.

GLENCROSS (still sopping wet--clearly being interviewed immediately after the conclusion of the game): I don't know what more we've got to do. I just don't.

Tag: Liam_Vehn

 

Jenna Leed

They were on a three game losing streak. It was the worst feeling ever. The morale of the team was lower than it ever was. Not even a speech could get their spirits up. Just when they thought things couldn’t get worse Jenna Leed grabbed the local paper and it had a horrible review on the Crazy Dragons.


Onderon Gazette - So much for playing to team strengths, The Onderon Crazy Dragons were playing as if someone stole something from them. They couldn’t put two and two together with the way they played. Goalkeeper Brad Pamjer allowed so many goals that he might as well step aside and allow free goals in to the net.

Right Half back Jenna Leed got taken down several times losing the bolo-ball in the process. General Manager Sam Poland might want to get on this team, because nothing is going their way. They have sunken to a new low. The Crazy Dragons are fairly new to the GCLA and they have their sights on the Premier league. Not with this kind of play.


Jenna ripped the paper and threw it in the trash. She hated to think that the Dragons had become laughing stocks of the GCLA. The team is already doing three a day practices in sweltering heat. Jenna knew they needed to get out of this losing streak as soon as possible. Maybe they can salvage the rest of the season but that would mean they would have to win out the rest of the games. Was hope all lost. She knew she shouldn’t think this way but she hated losing. She almost forgot how it was to win.


TAG: No one

 

IC Post:

NARRATOR: With the Bakura Miners leading 10-9 at half time, the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers find that their game plan is going to have to change if they are to have any chance at winning. Head Coach Luc Everoux sits with the team to hash out a plan that he hopes will lead to victory.

EVEROUX: Glencross is a threat. We allow her to play the game she wants to play and this game is going to come down to the wire. But her counterpart, North, he’s the weak link in the chain. All game long he’s been biting to help their offense out. To tip the scales in their favor.

LUY’KIN: So what do you suggest?

EVEROUX: You let him into your area and then you beat his brains out.

CHAMBERS: That simple?

EVEROUX: You know nothing is ever that simple.

NARRATOR: The offensive unit, consisting of Forsythe, Rypen, Dupont, Reiger, and Rollko, listen as offensive coordinator Tronnheim lays out his second half adjustment.

TRONNHEIM: You guys need to move away from the edges of the field and crowd the center. They’re an incomplete team in the middle. You overwhelm their zone coverage and force them to react to you. Use the size of that fat lard of a goalkeeper Herglic to your advantage.

ROLLKO: Was wondering when you were going to unleash our unit. We’ve been playing it pretty safe all game long.

RYPEN: They’re defense has been putting up some decent blocks. But I’m seeing a few cracks in their strategy.

DUPONT: You thinking a little pitch and roll?

FORSYTHE: You know I can block them all day long.

REIGER: Nothing like a little hip check to get the party started.

TRONNHEIM: Just do what you need to do in order to win. Setup a few screens and see if they nibble. Should leave Dupont open to put a few points up on the board. The field is wet out there and the Miners are built for speed. Make them slip.

NARRATOR: The game resumes. Nar Shaddaa’s defense reminds young North why he should’ve listened to Glencross and is forced to leave the field.

Camera shows North being assisted off the field.

NARRATOR: The Smugglers offensive unit, stifled all of last week against the Coruscant Senators, comes alive in the second half with ten unanswered points. The small but faithful contingent of Smugglers fans become rowdy and obnoxious. There is clearly more than the alcohol at work here. There is a sense that the Old Whiskey Trophy is staying with the Vertical City for one more season.

The camera shows time winding its way down to zero. The game ends and the fans start to file out of the stadium. Smugglers and Miners players mingle at mid-field. Forsythe and Dupont are shown hoisting the Old Whiskey Trophy above their heads and taking a long pull of the crystal decanter before passing it down the line to other teammates. General Manager Vincent Cutter standing confidently in the press box dressed in a nice suit. The camera focuses on Chambers and Glencross.

NARRATOR: Unlike in past seasons, there seems to be a heartfelt exchange of words and a brief hug between Chambers and Glencross. The two women have forged a strong bond since the Limmie All Star Game. They are a shining example of sportsmanlike conduct. Though, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, it is unlikely that they will ever be inviting one another over to dinner, this is, after all, 24/7 Miners-Smugglers, the Black and Blue Battle. The greatest rivalry in modern Limmie history.

Tag: Nada