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Author	Topic: Writer With The Force Challenge Entries: Round One, Challenge 8 Entries up 9/15!
DarthBerryStraw Registered: Mar '07	Date Posted: 7/11 9:57pm Subject: RE: Writer With The Force Challenge Entries: Round One, Challenge Four 7/10
	Entry # 5: Can't. Stop. Laughing. That was great, really great. Entry # 6: Nice, very nice. Palpatine's point of view can only be described as chilling. I loved this. Entry # 7: You caught me at the summary. It occurred to him that he had not been thinking grandly enough. Local trade disputes? If he went about it correctly, he could build himself a galactic war... and blame the Jedi and their own disaffected for it. Sidious put the last touches on Chancellor Palpatine's robes and allowed himself one private smile before the funeral. -----signature----- “I MAY BE A HOGWARTS STUDENT….” Hargirid paused angrily. “BUT I AM ALSO A SATANIST!” - ... Tara UDCS: Of All the Witty Titles http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/29095691/p1/?7
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ForceWriter Registered: May '08	Date Posted: 7/23 6:00pm Subject: RE: Writer With The Force Challenge Entries: Round One, Challenge Four 7/10
	Challenge Five: An Expert Opinion Your character(s) is an expert at something... tell us about it. What is it? How did they learn it? From whom did they learn it? (You don't have to answer these questions, they are just to get your muse going.) The catch... it can not be something we know they have an expertise in! Example: We all know that Luke could be considered an Expert on the Force, but what if he also though himself an expert musician? Entry # 6 Title: Chocolate Chip and Sand Slug Cookies or The Secret Talents of Jabba the Hutt Era: The Saga, specifically, ROTJ Characters: Jabba the Hutt, Princess Leia Organa Summary: Jabba has a hidden talent and he's giving Leia an earful about it. You know, Leia, or whatever your name is, you really aren’t a very gracious guest. It’s not like I haven’t heard all those names you just called me before, but I’ve never heard someone say them to my face when I didn’t have a blaster aimed at their skull. I’m a despicable, ugly, ruthless, fat, slimy slug? Well, look, Sweetheart, you’re a stubborn, bossy, arrogant little bimbo. See? I can do that, too. And let me tell you something, you pretty little thing, about how you see me. “Despicable.” Hey, I’m not despicable, just a shrewd businessman. I know what needs to happen to get the job done, and get it done well. If that means disintegrating a few folks that are stupid enough to get in my way or hanging carbon-frozen smugglers up on my wall to teach them a lesson, that’s what I’ll do. They know what they signed up for. Especially that little twerp you just thawed out. Idiots, the whole lot of them. “Ugly.” How rude! I’ll have you know that I am one of the most desirable Hutts in the galaxy. I was ranked in the top five most eligible Hutts last year, and let me tell you, it wasn’t just because of my money, Sweetheart. For kriff’s sake, have you ever even looked at Han Solo? Do that first, and then we’ll talk about ugly. “Ruthless.” Okay, I kind of like that one. It’s true. In my line of work, you gotta be. “Fat.” Bless your little heart, you must come from a poor background, because, Sweetheart, clearly you don’t recognize that a hefty weight is a sign of prosperity. I’m a rich son of a bantha, in case you didn’t know. Way rich. So of course I’m going to be fat, because I get to use my credits to buy all the delicious food I want and I don’t have to lift a finger to do anything because I can pay people to do things for me and shoot them if they refuse. “Slimy.” Slimy is the worst. If you would just touch my skin, or the skin of any Hutt for that matter, you would find that it is actually quite dry. Sure, Hutts produce a slime that covers their bodies, a green slime that has often been called putrid and sticky, but the slime is necessary to protect our delicate skin from drying out. And really, we only slime ourselves early in the mornings, usually before non-Hutts see us. So I don’t know where folks get off calling me slimy, because mostly, I’m not. Why can’t you focus on my good qualities, Sweetheart? No one ever talks about how smart I am or my flawless taste in palace decor or how delicious my baking is. No one even knows I bake. Did you know that I bake, Sweetheart? Because I do. I’m an expert baker. Yeah, I know I just told you that I can pay people to do things for me, but this is one thing I like to do for myself. Let me tell you how this all started. I love baked goods, especially cookies. Have you ever had a cookie before? You’re a skinny little thing, so I’m going to guess not. I’ll see about getting you one, because they’re delicious. Anyway, the best part of cookies is the dough before you bake them, and when I had someone do all my baking for me, I never got to eat the dough. And also, none of my chefs ever crumbled up little sand slugs in the cookies like I love so much. So I decided to learn. I taught myself mostly because I don’t like people telling me what to do. My dear sweet mother, Louda the Hutt, had an old recipe that she sent to me and I learned on that. It takes a pound nerf butter, seven eggs, eight cups of Corellian sugar, some vanilla from Naboo, flour from Kashyyyk wheat, sand from Tatooine, and chocolate from Alderaan, except now I can’t get that anymore. So instead I substitute the sand slugs like I was telling you. They really melt in your mouth, especially when the cookies are warm. Let me tell you, Leia or whatever your name is, I was really bad at baking when I first started. I lost nearly half a metric ton while I was learning because I would only eat my cookies and I couldn’t keep them down. Folks started to think I had lost all my money because I got so skinny. But now I’m back up to where I should be, plus a kilogram or two, because I finally found the secret ingredient to my cookies: Twi’lek blood. Oh, I don’t kill my girls for their blood, don’t worry. They’re too pretty. I just make sure that they give a transfusion every week or so. I said I didn’t kill my girls for their blood. I didn’t say that I don’t kill them. That green one made me angry. That’s what happens when you resist. Rancor bait. So now that I’m an expert baker, Sweetheart, or specifically, master cookie baker, I’d have to tell you my life is complete. I’ve got delicious food to eat. I’ve got all the money in the galaxy. I’ve got two brand-new droids that I’ll get to dismember. I had that idiot Han Solo on my wall until you came along, but now I’ve got him and that furball Chewbacca in my dungeon, so that works just as well. And I’ve got you, probably the prettiest little human girl I’ve ever seen, on a leash by my side in my favorite slave girl outfit. Yep, I’m the luckiest Hutt in the galaxy. Hey there, Sweetheart, do you want a cookie? Oh, kriff. Hold that thought. That stupid Jedi friend of yours just killed my Rancor. Other Threads: Beyond the Saga Before the Saga Votes Due by Sunday July 26th! -----signature----- Writer With the Force Challenge Sock http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=28454919&brd=10304&start=28454938 . Congrats to the 1st WWTF Champion: ZaraValinor!
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Goddess-Jaina-Redick Registered: May '05	Date Posted: 7/23 8:00pm Subject: RE: Writer With The Force Challenge Entries: Round One, Challenge Five up 7/23
	Entry #6: I can totally picture Jabba as the cookie monster. -----signature----- I bleed Duke blue. I was a Giants fan before they were good. <3 Raw is Jericho
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DarthBerryStraw Registered: Mar '07	Date Posted: 7/27 11:40am Subject: RE: Writer With The Force Challenge Entries: Round One, Challenge Five up 7/23
	Entry # 6: Jabba never even crossed my mind for this challenge, but this was awesome! -----signature----- “I MAY BE A HOGWARTS STUDENT….” Hargirid paused angrily. “BUT I AM ALSO A SATANIST!” - ... Tara UDCS: Of All the Witty Titles http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/29095691/p1/?7
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ForceWriter Registered: May '08	Date Posted: 8/3 9:52am Subject: RE: Writer With The Force Challenge Entries: Round One, Challenge Five up 7/23
	Challenge 5.1- Mini Challenge On the line this time is only immunity or a chance to get back into the game! No one will become OWTF! Pain and Suffering Challenge The only requirement for this challenge was to write a Hurt/Comfort fic! Entry # 1 Title: Comforted by a friend Characters/Pairings: Valin Halcyon, Nyche Kaloar Era: Saga Summary: Nejaa Halcyon dies and his son is seeing this. Coronet was the city where the Rainbow elementary and high school was situated between the university district and hill district and children from both districts visited it. Well tended walkways provided a safe passage for the children. A 14 year old boy was practising alone in the gymnastics room of the school. He had been allowed to do that from the day he visited that school for the first school-day now more than 9 years ago. He remembered his first school day vividly. His father and mother had brought him towards the school and after a meeting with his teacher Jenna Forhoo she had shown his dad the gymnastics room. Nejaa Halcyon had entered that with an approving smile on his face and demonstrated a lightsaber kata for her. And each day after lessons his father came and taught him the Jedi-way of fighting with a lightsaber. And during time between lessons he was allowed to practise when the room was free. Valin smiled when he completed a Kata swinging his training-saber in an intricate arch. A few years and his dad would give him a real lightsaber. ‘13 years’ he had said, ‘all Jedi Padawans get their first real lightsaber after their 13th birthday.’ ‘And now the flowing leaf Kata’ and he started the first elegant upward swipe when a view through the Force assaulted him. “Ooh nooh, dad. Noooh” he gasped and dropped down unceremoniously. --- An 18 year old girl with blonde hair and striking green eyes was passing the gymnastics room to go to her next classes. She was Nyche Kaloar and a friend from Valin Halcyon since the day she had met him celebrating his 4th birthday. She heard the boy’s anguished cry. Dropping her schoolbag she ran inside and kneeled down next to the prone boy. “Valin, Valin I am here. Shh Valin” and she took the crying boy in her arms. “M my daddy, he is, he is, I don’t feel h him anymore. Nooh! Why, oh Force why?” “Valin, I know.” Nyche held Valin until the sobbing abated. --- Jenna Forhoo had finished her school-day was walking towards the teachers office when she passed the dropped schoolbag. Peeking inside the gymnastics room she saw the two teenagers. She knew of the ancestry of the two and went inside. Valin heard her and gazed up with a face still wet with tears. She knew that the boy’s father was called away by the Jedi to lead a campaign in the wars. ‘Dratted clone wars, splitting the galaxy apart. Only a few months now and look what those wars are bringing? Death and grief. For a Jedi this must be awful. Valin has told me that Jedi were taught to save people, prevent them to get injured or killed. And who’s to gain from those wars? Weapons manufacturers and builders of warmachines. And yes those greedy beings making credits from another being’s suffering.’ She took a handkerchief out of the pocket of her skirt and gently began to wipe Valin’s face. She asked “shall I contact your mother?” Valin mumbled “uh, can you contact a friend first. He is Rostek Horn and he works at CorSec.” - - - - - She did and it was Rostek Horn who took the two children home to meet with Scerra. The boy comforted his mother and Rostek was there to aid them. A few days later a great friend – the Caamasi Jedi Ylenic It'kla – came to their place and told them of the heroic death of Nejaa, saving all his friends. Rostek cared for Valin and Scerra and during the Jedi purges he used his great knowledge to alter the records at CorSec. Nejaa Halcyon just became another one of those officers who died after the Clone-wars. Rostek married Scerra and Valin’s name and birthday were changed, all to hide the fact that Valin was a Force sensitive and the son of a Jedi. Nyche Kaloar married Valin and almost two years after the Jedi-purge their son was born. Corran Horn, a boy destined to become one of the new Jedi masters. ~~~~~ Entry # 2 Title: Matters of Time Era: The Saga, immediately after ESB Characters: Leia and Luke, Han Summary: Because they both lost so much at Bespin. Because, she thinks, there is not always a happy ending. (But she had started to believe that she might get hers.) She thinks that, if she had eyes in the back of her head, she might have known they were being followed. She thinks that, if she believed harder in a higher power, then he (or she, or it) would have kept it all from happening. She thinks that, if she were perfect, then she would have seen it coming and maybe they wouldn’t have ever gone. (But if she were perfect, she wouldn’t have fallen in love with him, and if she were perfect, she could have fixed the ship and they never would have needed to stop.) But she doesn’t have eyes in the back of her head and she doesn’t believe hard enough in gods or angels or demons because she has seen too much of hell (no higher power would ever allow whole planets to be destroyed, obliterated into glittering stardust that shouldn’t have been so beautiful) and she has never had a hope of being perfect, so they went anyway and pretended like they weren’t walking into a trap. And when the smoke cleared away (really, there was too much smoke) and the screaming stopped (though it won’t stop, not ever, because she still hears it and it makes her sick) and the blaster bolts faded into the distance (even though they’re never that far behind) she was left in a seat (his seat) on a ship (his ship) and her heart (his heart) had been ripped from her chest and thrown against the ground and shattered into a million unrecognizable pieces and she felt alone, so alone. And as she sat there (in his seat) she wished for a moment that she had died with her family in a brilliant green blast, she wished that she never had to feel this pain. (Except that if she had died with them, she would have never known him, and she thinks that might be worse.) -- Because, he thinks, there is not always a happy ending. (He only pretended he might get one with her, anyway.) He thinks that, if he were older and wiser, he might have seen the mistake that he was making. He thinks that, if he had been stronger, he would not have jumped and maybe not have lost his hand (or believed so easily that he was the son of true evil). He thinks that, if he didn’t love her as much, he never would have gone in the first place. (But he couldn’t not love her because she was beautiful and perfect and so strangely familiar.) But he is not older even though he is now wiser (though is he, really?) and he is not as strong as he should be and he is human and flawed and like everyone else so of course he loves her, so he followed his vision and went to help her and was really only able to make things worse for them all. And when the pain subsided (in his hand but not in his heart, his mind, his soul) and he called her name (he never believed that she’d hear him) and a city that was so deceptively beautiful faded away (he never saw much of it to begin with) he was left in a bunk (he could still smell their sweat and their lust) on a ship (the love that they made was all around him) and his heart (her heart, but she would give it back to him) had been ripped from his chest and thrown against the ground and shattered into a million unrecognizable pieces and he felt alone, so alone. And as he lay there (the echoes of passion in the room were crushing) he wished for a moment that he had never left home and had never known what it meant to feel true pain. (Except that if he had never gone to find her, she would have died, and he thinks that might be worse.) -- When they fix his hand and he goes to her side, she smiles at him, but it is a sad smile and he can hear her thoughts ever since he spoke in her head and he knows that he is not the man she is thinking about. He wonders for a moment when he got old, when he grew up, and he thinks it must have been in the last few hours even though it suddenly feels like so long ago. But he has grown up, because he knows how she does not feel about him and suddenly that does not bother him so much anymore (even though it really does). She looks at him with tears in her (beautiful) eyes and he takes her in his arms and he hopes one day he will know the same (beautiful) love she feels for the one no longer with them. (But then he hopes that he won’t, because who could really love the son of pure evil?) “I miss him,” she says, and he says he knows, and he promises her that they’ll get him back (though he wonders what will happen to her if they don’t) and she wipes the tears away from her (beautiful) eyes. Then she asks about his hand and he tells her it feels fine (or it will one day or maybe never) and she says that with time maybe he’ll forget it ever happened. He smiles when she says that (but it is sarcastic and painful and not happy at all) and says that that’s the real trick after all (and is glad for a moment that she never heard him say that, the man that isn’t with them anymore) and that, with time, maybe they’ll forget about everything. And he hugs her close and he thinks that, with time, she’ll forget about her broken heart (because she will get him back) and he’ll forget about his (because loving her so much won’t do him any good anymore) and maybe, just maybe, that, with time, he can forget that he is the son of pure evil (and maybe he is pure evil himself). She feels him sigh and she hears the beat of his heart in his chest and she thinks that the sound is so familiar (but it is not the heartbeat that she knows so well, the heartbeat that she loves). And she feels the pain in her heart and in her mind and her soul and she can feel the pain in his as well, but she doesn’t know why. She can only hope that that her arms offer him comfort just as his offer her the same and that one day, maybe, they will both be lucky enough (or blessed enough or stupid enough) to have whatever it is they need to heal, to truly heal (and she pretends like that might be possible). He is right, after all, and so is she, and maybe they only just need to forget. She thinks it’s funny (and that it isn’t) that all they really need are matters of time. Because there is not always a happy ending. (But this time, there will be.) ~~~~~ Entry # 3 Title: Enough is Enough Era: Saga Characters: Obi-Wan, Luke, Owen and Beru Plot: Events lead up to ANH It hurts me to see him like this, it really does. I’ve been trying for years to make sure Luke doesn’t grow up to be his father, but he doesn’t know that. All he sees is his stingy uncle holding him back from his dreams. Of course, I had dreams once too. My dreams didn’t include drying out on this hunk of rock either, but I changed long ago from resentment at the baby dropped on my doorstep to loving Luke enough to want to spare him from the horror of following his father’s footsteps. Of course, there are plenty of problems in my life that don’t belong to my step-nephew, like sand people, the eternal heat, a horrible moisture crop, and of course killer sandstorms. It took all of my strength to stand by my convictions and refuse to let Luke apply for the Academy. With the recent events in my life, I just wanted to tell him fine, go. Even though I love him dearly, I know deep down that the day he does leave is the day that Beru and myself are out of the way of trouble, that we can continue living our lives without the constant fear of white stormtroopers, or a man in black armor. I have resisted the urge to let him leave for years now, but this time seemed different, almost like an ultimatum. I was tempted more than ever before, and my nerves were already shot from the previous couple of days. First, my #3 moisture harvester broke down, losing an entire week’s worth of water, which set me back too much money. Then I lost two of my droids to a sandstorm. The storm simply showed up for a few hours and when it cleared, they were gone. I think jawas took them. But the final straw, the one that nearly sent Luke out into the world that very night came just yesterday. I was in Mos Eisley, picking up some milk and other supplies and stopped as usual into a cantina. Not Wuhers’ place, that damned band only knows one song. I only had one drink, trying to forget for a moment the lot that life had thrust on me, when a man pulled up to the bar beside me, and ordered me another round. I didn’t need to see his face to be filled with loathing at this man who had robbed me and my wife from the life we deserved. “Owen,” Obi Wan began, nodding at me “how’s Luke doing these days?” I didn’t answer. It was always the same on the rare occasions he caught up with me in town. Always Luke, never “How are you and Beru?” or “Sorry for making sure you never had the money to make it off this dirtball” or even “Nice tan.” No, for him Luke was always of the utmost importance. Not important enough to help out raising him, but I wouldn’t let him, and he knows it anyway. He let me stew for a moment before surprising me. “Owen, I am truly sorry for making sure you never had the chance to leave this dirtball.” I must have scowled at him because he quickly continued, “I didn’t need to read your mind to know that, Owen. I used you for years for the greater good of the galaxy, and never gave you the chance to turn it down. I used you as bait, put you and your wife in mortal danger, and forced you to raise someone who might possibly be the savior to the galaxy.” He sipped at his own drink for a moment in silence, letting me get acclimated to this new breakthrough in our “relationship”. “It’s over, Owen.” He sighed. “Luke has simply grown too much to be held back any more. He’s outlived his usefulness as bait, and he’s certainly old enough for me to begin training him to take on his father directly.” Obi Wan looked at me with those intense blue eyes. “I have to take him now, Owen. Once again for the greater good of the galaxy I need to hurt you. My plan failed, and I wasted the past 18 years of your life. I should never have kept you here. I’m sorry Owen, but this is how it must be. Luke must learn the ways of the Force, and come with me.” The elderly Jedi sighed again, then dropped a credit chip in my hands. As he left he paused and told me over his shoulder, “I’ll come for him in two days, Owen. Please don’t make this difficult.” After he left, I was in a daze. I looked at the credit chip in my hand, and realized numbly that it was a huge denomination, more than enough to set me and Beru up somewhere nice, and never have to break my back working another drop of moisture. Still, what I had resented for years had grown on me and all I felt was an intense sense of failure, defeat, and bitterness. The money wouldn’t buy back the better part of two decades that was wasted. Not only that, but the boy that I had raised as a son was going to be taken from me, and led into a life that could easily force him into the role of killer, just like his father. It was the bottom of the barrel for me. I somehow made it home, but I never did remember how. I didn’t want to tell Beru about what had happened, simply because seeing her face when I told her that Luke was being taken from us to pursue a life of danger was more than I could bear. Instead at dinner I was more sullen and surly than usual, and when Luke once again brought up leaving to join the Academy I shot the idea down more out of habit than anything else. And yet, it made a perverted type of sense: If Luke joined the Academy, he would be out of reach of Obi-Wan and he might be spared the heartbreak I felt sure was coming for him. That night I confessed everything to Beru. She, of course was devastated, but she surprised me once again. “Owen, you have raised a wonderful boy into a fine young man.” She soothed to me. “He’s a little headstrong, but all young men are at that age.” She looked at me with pride evident in her eyes before continuing, “You raised a child not your own, a man who might one day save the galaxy from evil. You gave a moral compass to the liberator of oppressed people everywhere, and no one can take that away from you. Whatever happens from here on out, you can rest easy knowing that Luke knows the difference between right and wrong, and that will serve him and the galaxy for the rest of his life. I am proud of you, Owen Lars. You are a great man.” Lying in bed in the arms of my wife made me realize the truth in what she said. I vowed right there to take Luke to see Obi-Wan first thing in the morning. That night I slept better than I ever have before. For the first time in two decades I dreamed of a glorious tomorrow. ~~~~~ Entry # 4 Title: How? Character/Pairing: Ani/Padme Era: Saga, AoTC Summary: A poem Anakin may have written for Padme. How can I stop loving you When from the moment You walked into my life, My heart … Beats for you My soul … Burns for you My flesh … Bleeds for you? How can I live without you? How can I forget the kiss … The taste Of your lips on mine … The feel Of your body against mine … The whisper Of love unspoken? How can I forget the taboo moment? I can not … Will not . . . . Ever. For when I thought all was lost You lead me … Comforted me More than your words of denial Your actions … Showed me What is in your heart. We are meant for each other, Padme. I know this. You … Are my angel. I … Am your knight. We … Are whole Only when we … Are together. This time we are only voting for the entry you think is the best... no One with The Force vote required! Votes Due by 12-noon Wed. Aug 6th Other Threads: Beyond the Saga There is no Before the Saga entry for this challenge -----signature----- Writer With the Force Challenge Sock http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=28454919&brd=10304&start=28454938 . Congrats to the 1st WWTF Champion: ZaraValinor!
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Alexis_Wingstar Registered: Sep '06	Date Posted: 8/3 11:24am Subject: RE: Writer With The Force Challenge Entries: Round One, Challenge 5.1 Entrires up 8/3!
	Entry 1: Oh, how devastating to feel the death of one's father! It's good Valin had a friend to comfort him. Entry 2: A bit provocative and very bittersweet. Very well done. Entry 3: It's rare to see Owen's POV on this. I like it. Entry 4: It's unique to do hurt/comfort through a poem. -----signature----- "Change. It can be good. It can be bad. It can be expected or come as a thief in the night. Invited or not, it always comes." ~Koria "Tender Shadows", co-written w/ The Musical Jedi "Two Peas Out of the Pod" http://www.nanowrimo.org/eng/user/205643
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Goddess-Jaina-Redick Registered: May '05	Date Posted: 8/4 7:56pm Subject: RE: Writer With The Force Challenge Entries: Round One, Challenge 5.1 Entrires up 8/3!
	Entry #1: Loved the background on Corran’s family. Entry #2: Interesting perspective and way it was written. Entry #3: Loved Uncle Owen! Don’t see enough fics with him, says I. Entry #4: Lovely poem. I especially liked the way it was set up. -----signature----- I bleed Duke blue. I was a Giants fan before they were good. <3 Raw is Jericho
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ForceWriter Registered: May '08	Date Posted: 8/15 8:44am Subject: RE: Writer With The Force Challenge Entries: Round One, Challenge 6 Entries up 8/15! - Date Edited: 8/15 8:55pm (1 edits total) Edited By: ForceWriter
	Challenge Six: Hyperspace Craziness! For this challenge the authors were to write a story about being in hyperspace with someone who has been in space a little too long, or that their character has been there too long! Entry # 1 Title: Lost Ones Characters/Pairings: Anakin, Dooku Era: Saga Summary: AU off RotS I am Count Dooku of Serenno. Darth Tyranus of the Sith -- or, perhaps not, all things considered. I was Jedi Master Dooku until thirteen years ago. I am beginning to worry about the impulse to remind myself of my own name, and I am not sure if I should be more concerned about the prospect of forgetting to. I am in a shuttle that was really meant for one person, and Skywalker is piloting it. I have no hands. I am not sure how this happened. Well, I remember the hands. Rather vividly, in fact. Skywalker may have moved too fast for me to block him, in that moment, but it's not as if I lost track of him entirely. I also remember my master telling him to kill me. I was surprised. I shouldn't have been surprised. A great many things became clear at that moment, things I had known and yet not assembled. Lines of thought that I should have followed through to their natural conclusion, hints I had ignored, all flowed together at once. It felt very much like taking pressure off a blood vessel and letting the limb wake up: coming back to life is painful. I suppose it's better when you are not about to die. I am Count Dooku of Serenno. Sith. Are you still a Sith if your master has repudiated you? I don't remember from the histories. Possibly no one survived it long enough to ask. Obviously there was no point in arguing with him. He was through with me. Skywalker was hesitating, the ethics they'd tried to teach him holding both our blades back for just a moment. "I shouldn't," he said. I could hear the recital going through his head -- oh, not his thoughts, I'd just heard it enough times myself. A Jedi should not kill an unarmed prisoner. Yes, I know, very funny. I was once a Jedi. I still had the Force. Both my master's will and Skywalker's were bent against me, and my wrists were distracting, but they could not keep it from me altogether. They would block any attack, even if I could focus enough for one. They would not expect this. I let go of the absurd shock of betrayal and the rather more legitimate fury as much as I can, although recent habit was not helping, and slapped as much healing energy as I can in Obi-Wan Kenobi's direction. "Obi-Wan," I said as he stirred, disoriented and bewildered but awake, or waking, "do you remember what I told you on Geonosis?" I am Count Dooku of Serenno. I was once a Jedi. "Kill him," my master snarled then, but Skywalker was distracted. Then there was some confusion. I might have been unconscious for part of it. The next thing that is not a jumble is finding myself here. Skywalker told me Kenobi had Palpatine, and then he took us into hyperspace. He did not set a course. He never calculated a path. I would like to think I simply missed it, but I know better; the awareness is in my bones and all around me. The Force is in hyperspace as well, though if life forms inhabit it more than transiently, they are hard for us to recognize. We are riding it now. Skywalker is riding it, not quite the dark side but nothing peaceful either. Some tumultuous current on the knife-edge between, a wave that crests races and does not break. To look at him feels like falling and being blinded by the sun, all at once, as if he is the gravity well of some sun that should long since have collapsed, a supernova forever on the verge of being a black hole, an impossible star dragging others in his wake like the tail of a comet. Is this what Qui-Gon saw in him? He hasn't closed the viewscreens. He is steering by the Force and staring out at the elongated streaks of stars and the nameless colors in the black between them. I see their afterimages when I close my eyes; I'm not sure if he has blinked. I have no idea where he's going, and I doubt he has anywhere in mind. If he started out with a destination in mind, or anything in mind other than to tear us both away from the worlds he knows, where he has learned (has he?) that his indulgent mentor was ruling both sides of the war, where he loves and rails and is traitor and betrayed, I think he forgot it some time ago. They say hyperspace will drive you mad, if you watch it too long. I feel it pulling at my vision, at my thoughts -- nothing malevolent, nothing with will, but shapes and colors and dimensions my senses do not know how to process. I can only see the shadows of them that my senses interpret; I perceive, vaguely, that there is more to them through the Force. Then again, that's true of normal space in some ways too. There is always more to a thing or creature's nature than we are equipped to understand. And then, some of us are equipped and given all the signs, and still do not understand. Hyperspace is doing something else to him. To Skywalker. I am Dooku. He isn't looking at it, after all, even if his eyes are on it. His mind is with the engines, with the hyperdrive, with the sensors -- with the mechanical things that propel us into and through hyperspace, that sense the paths and dangers. His thoughts are there as much as they are on what the Force is telling him directly. The despair is fading as he loses himself to machine and to a nature we were never meant for, and he blazes brighter, as if this is somehow where he belongs. Other longings flicker around the edges, but they cannot find the center, not yet. Not now. I don't know if they ever will. The dark side drew me along so, Sidious did, one goal replacing another, one method becoming an end. Did I belong to it, all along? Does he belong here? Is it the same? His eyes flicker away from the screen once, and he blinks, opens his mouth, then shakes his head and turns away from me again. I do not know if he will bring us back. We will die in here from lack of supplies eventually, but even then, perhaps his spirit will remain and drive the ship along its undescribed course, screaming away from the known galaxy until there are no more planets and suns to weave around. I do not know if he will leave hyperspace. If we will. I am not sure I care. I am... I was a Jedi, once. ~~~~~~~ Entry # 2 Title: Better Late Than Never Era: Saga (Say 5-ish years after RotJ) Characters: some nameless OCs, maybe a droid. Who knows who might show up! Plot: What does "crazy" mean to a droid? For this story, I have parted from the traditional method of writing fan fiction. You are not going to see a plot, character development, or even any sense of redeeming value. Instead, this is a screenplay! That's right, all you have to do is dig a giant hole in your back yard, fill it with boiling lava, and VIOLA! Instant Mustafar for you and your friends to put on this production! Enjoy! (SCENE: A perky human female, walks backwards while talking to a group of visiting tourists on the lava fields of Mustafar) Tour Guide: And here is the exact spot that Obi Wan Kenobi thought he killed Anakin Skywalker after their epic lightsaber duel. (She pauses while twenty camera flashes record this moment) And if you'll follow me, I can show you where Anakin killed all of the leaders of the Separatists and then... (Her voice trails off as she stares in disbelief at the ancient spaceship that lands next to her. After a couple of moments of stunned incredulity, a door hisses open and an old style battle droid walks nervously down the ramp.) DX-45: Am I too late? Is Grievous mad? Tour Guide: Griev..Grievous? GENERAL Grievous? Are you a... battle droid? DX-45: Really? OK, I thought that was obvious, but whatever. Look, I know I'm pretty late, but surely it's better late than never, right? Tour Guide: Um, how late ARE you? DX-45: I figure I'm about twenty years late, but I got a good excuse! (Everyone in the tour group waits expectantly for a few seconds) I got lost. General Grievous sent me here specifically to protect some people from... Jedi assassins...or some nonsense, but I took a left at Corellia, and long story short, I ended up in a different fricking galaxy before I finally stopped and asked for directions. Tour Guide: (After a stunned silence) Ummmm, the Clone Wars ended like 20 years ago, when a jedi came here and killed the leaders of the Separatists, there aren't any more battle droids left. DX-45: Really? That's a bit of a blow to the old ego there. Tour Guide: Besides that, another galaxy? That's impossible! DX-45: No, really! I even accidentally destroyed some species home planet. I hope that me leaving while shouting "Droids rule! Suck it, Vong!" doesn't come back to bite anyone in the butt. Tour Guide: Why would you do THAT?! DX-45: Ummmm, I was on that ship for over ten years. I figured you knew I was crazy by now. Tour Guide: You're a crazy droid? How does a droid even go crazy? This doesn't make sense. And I thought all battle droids only said "Roger roger" or something like that, DX-45: SIGH I spent the first year in space teaching myself how to speak Basic. After that I got a bit bored, and decided to go insane to pass the time. What did you THINK an insane droid would sound like? Humans just have no appreciation for the subtle nuances between "Roger roger" and "ROGER roger." Roger: Yes? DX-45: That was unnecessary. (Shoots Roger) Tour Guide: HEY! You can't just shoot my guests! DX-45: Oh yeah? Who's going to stop me? If I'm the last battle droid, then I'm taking over this galaxy! No one can stand in my way! BWAHAHA!!!!! The tour guide and her tour group cower in fear, but from behind a boulder, a disheveled Obi-Wan wanders by. Obi Wan: (with a sigh) I got it. The jedi doesn't even break his stride as he shoves the maniacal droid into the lava and wanders off again. Tour Guide: (shouting after him) Is that your solution to EVERYTHING? ~~~~~~ Entry # 3 Title: Nap Time Characters/Pairings: Darth Vader, Emperor Palpatine, Jar Jar Binks. Era: The Saga Summary: It's battle for the ages when hyperspace makes everyone high strung, especially when it's nap time... “Your move.” Darth Vader yawned, waiting for Palpatine to place his move. Why he had suggested a game of chess struck him as unusual. Palpatine didn’t make his move for some reason. Vader raised his head to see Palpatine sitting there, half-asleep. “Wake up!” he yelled. “W-w-what?! My move? Okay.” Palpatine moved his queen two spaces forwards. “What the Force? You can’t be serious Master! That leaves your king in check!” Palpatine shrugged angrily. “So, who gives a Sith! We’ve been in hyperspace ten days now, and I’m going stir crazy!” Vader raised a fist. “Well, if you hadn’t chosen a hairdresser all the way in the Outer Rim, we wouldn’t have that issue now would we?” Palpatine grew further chagrined. “Wait just a dang minute you...you jerk! I have very sensitive scalp skin! You of all people should know that, seeing you massage it on Tuesdays!” “Maybe we should calm down...” “Calm down? Who’s being crazy! I’m calm your calm! We’re all calm!” Vader pressed his comm button on his wrist device. “Lieutenant, it’s time for Palpatine’s...nap. Please bring in the tranquilizers.” “Yes my lord.” “Nap! I ain’t taking no nap!” Vader put his hands up as a gesture to lower his tone. “Master...you know you get rather ornery when you don’t take your nap. And if your ornery, who’s going to run the Empire?” Palpatine got up, his demeanor annoyed. “Stop treating me like a child moron! I am....more than 80 years old!” “Well, if the robe fits...” “You’re calling me a child?! The audacity! This coming from Mr. ‘Waahhhh! I want my Padme! Who killed Padme?’...and Mr. ‘Waahh! I hate Obi Wan because he kicked the crap out of me! Waahh!’” Vader was now really frustrated, although no one could see it underneath his mask. “That does it!” Vader drew his lightsaber, and in response Palpatine drew his. “Bring it black man!” “You about to get owned you old hag!” The two, accompanied by epic sounding music, met in mid-air, their sabers clashing, sparks flying in every direction. The two ended their lock and flew backwards, then resumed their sparring. Vader attacked with an upper strike, then retreated and swung his saber sideways with ferocity of a nexu. Palpatine blocked both and more of Vader’s strikes, parrying with skill unprecedented for an old man. “Ha! You suck Vader!” “Don’t write a check your old butt can’t cash!” Vader Force pushed Palpatine backwards and rushed, swinging his saber recklessly. Palpatine blocked some of the wayward blows and jumped, then flipped, all the while striking at Vader. Vader spun around, trying to match the old man’s speed. “Give it up, you breathless half human! I own you!” Vader growled and unleashed Force lightning on the hapless senior sending him pounding him into the ground, wheezing. “No...fair. You knew...that I didn’t take my skin ointment...today.” Vader ran close to him, and with one hand, raised his saber. “Now, I’m going to finish you off!” Before he could swing, the nurse, Jar Jar Binks came in. “I havea sira Palpatine’s medication! Mesa ready to administer it!” Using the opportunity, Palpatine took advantage of Vader’s hesitation and began shocking him with lightning. Vader managed to bring his saber forward and block it, but he wouldn’t be able to hold it much longer. “Whats yousa doin?! Yousa let the hyperspace wooziness get to ya!” “Jar Jar...stun...Palpatine...it’s his time for a nap.” Palpatine yelled out. “No...its his* nap time!” Jar Jar looked at both, scared and unsure of who to support. “Don’t listen to him Jar Jar! He has to take a nap!” Jar Jar grew more perplexed. “I can’t,” Palpatine stuttered, “ I can’t hold it any longer.” Jar Jar decided to take a guess using his tried and true method. “Einie, menie, meini, moe, cath a nexu by its toe, if he a hollers letsa him go, mesa momma said to pick the very bestest one, and you are...it.” His finger ended pointing at Vader. “The finger hasa spoken!” He armed the tranquilizer gun, and fired. “Auuuuaaggghhhhh!” cried Vader in abject surprise and slight irritation from the dart. He fell over, then began snoring peacefully. Palpatine got up and dusted himself off. “Whatsa that all about Palpy?” “Well, it’s been ten days in hyperspace...it finally got to him. Besides, he gets cranky when he doesn’t have his nap.” “Yousa got that right!” “Well, lets get him in bed....awww, he’s so much cuter when he is sleeping.” The two picked up Vader, and plopped him on the nearest bed. As they left, Palpatine gave Vader a stuffed bantha, tucked him in, than shut the light off. ~~~~~ Entry # 4 Title: With Friends Like These Pairing: Obi-Wan, Anakin, Surprise Era: Saga The Jedi had not suspected a short campaign, nor had they expected to be on the front lines of the war against the Separatists so quickly or for so long. They did their best to cope, as always trusting in the to make up for any weakness in mind and body. But still they were only sentient creatures made of imperfect flesh. They weren’t infallible And those who walked off the red sands of Geonosis and onto battle ships were the first to return to the Temple for recuperation. But there had been one stubborn soul who had been in the field longer than any other and the signs of stress were past the initial stages. In retrospect, Obi-Wan Kenobi wasn’t sure how he had drawn the short straw. One moment, he and some of the other Council members were talking about the problem at hand and the next he had ‘volunteered’ to solve it. “Why am I here?” the other Jedi Master, the problem at hand, asked in a petulant tone. “Master, myself and others on the Council have become worried about you.” “Worried?” “Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan agreed, with a mental sigh of relief. He had figured that this would be very difficult, but so far the Master was only curious. Perhaps he did not seen the changes in himself. “You have been out in the field longer than any one else and we fear that you will tire yourself out.” “Don’t worry,” the Master replied. “I’m not tired at all.” From behind him, Obi-Wan sensed the humor in Anakin’s presence hike up another degree. He could just imagine the smile curving his former apprentice’s mouth. He dropped his head in his hands, rubbing his thumb and finger at the spot between his eyes. “I’m going to go now.” The older Master stood to leave, but Obi-Wan halted him with a hand. “Master, please, hear me out.” He was the negotiator for Force sake, surely he could manage to show one of his colleagues the error of their thinking. This time he let the sight escape the realms of his mind and into reality. “Master, you have not been yourself of late. I am concerned.” “I don’t know why,” Anakin mumbled. “He’s finally starting to make sense to me.” “Anakin,” Obi-Wan warned. “Sorry, Master,” the young man replied in a voice that implied he was anything but. Under different circumstances, Obi-Wan might have appreciated Anakin’s humor. He didn’t feel the need to be a sharp or as demanding with the young man now that he was a Knight in his own right. “What is Skywalker talking about?” the Jedi Master said with a wave of his hand in Anakin’s direction. “I’ve always made sense.” “Of course you have, Master,” the young Councilman said soothingly. “But the fact still remains that you must return to the Temple.” Confusion and suspicion sparked in the large eyes. “Are you trying to get rid of me? You want the fleet all to yourself. Kenobi and Skywalker. Right?” For a long moment all Obi-Wan could do was blink in horrid surprise at the older Master. He managed to get this absurd idea wrapped around his mind. “Master, this is exactly what I’m talking about. You would never have suspected me of deceit in this.” “Ha! You are your Master’s pupil. Defying the Council. Defying me! For this boy.” “Hey,” Anakin objected. “Yes.” The large eyes narrowed. “I see it now. I can see the future. And you two are my down fall.” With a warning that was only a tenth of a second before the danger, the older Master lashed out and the Force threw Obi-Wan back and into Anakin. They crashed on the floor in a heap of robes and limbs. A flash of green passed over Obi-Wan’s vision and the conference room door opened and closed in quick succession. There was a whir as the magnetic lock cycled on. “By the Force,” Obi-Wan cursed, leaping to his feet. He pushed and pulled against the door uselessly. Tried typing in his security code. “Blast.” “How did he do that?” “He’s a Jedi Master, Anakin.” Obi-Wan pulled his comlink, thumbed it on. “This is Master Kenobi. It is as we worried. Master Yoda has lost his senses. If you see him, use any means necessary to detain him. He is not to be harmed.” He paused. “And can someone come to Conference Room B23.” “I can’t believe it,” Anakin said, after Obi-Wan’s comlink cycled off. “Only Yoda would be both more lucid and more paranoid when he was insane.” “He’s not insane, Anakin. He just needs some rest. A break from the fleet.” “He’s definitely not himself,” Anakin continued. He squinted, looking at the door Yoda had disappeared through. “Did he look taller to you?” Other Threads: Beyond the Saga There were no Before the Saga Entries for Challenge six! Voting Ends at 12-noon on Sunday August 18th! -----signature----- Writer With the Force Challenge Sock http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=28454919&brd=10304&start=28454938 . Congrats to the 1st WWTF Champion: ZaraValinor!
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BaronCoop Registered: Mar '06	Date Posted: 8/17 8:35am Subject: RE: Writer With The Force Challenge Entries: Round One, Challenge 6 Entries up 8/15!
	Well done everyone! I didn't quite know what to expect from everyone here, and you proved me right. (Did that make any sense?) Anyway, #1, good use of an AU to show what COULD have happened to Dooku, heck that might even have redeemed him where all else had failed. #2, eh. #3, I certainly wouldn't have wanted to put Vader down for a nap, but I do love making fun of him. #4, crazy Yoda? Inspired. -----signature----- Vote Palpatine/Vader '08! Or Else! Sith Happens Have a Nice Day! Or Else!
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Alexis_Wingstar Registered: Sep '06	Date Posted: 8/17 8:54pm Subject: RE: Writer With The Force Challenge Entries: Round One, Challenge 6 Entries up 8/15!
	Entry 1: Very haunting. Entry 2: DX-45: SIGH I spent the first year in space teaching myself how to speak Basic. After that I got a bit bored, and decided to go insane to pass the time. What did you THINK an insane droid would sound like? Humans just have no appreciation for the subtle nuances between "Roger roger" and "ROGER roger." Roger: Yes? DX-45: That was unnecessary. (Shoots Roger) Entry 3: “Well, lets get him in bed....awww, he’s so much cuter when he is sleeping.” You mean the mask changes when Vader's sleeping? LOL Entry 4: The last line was great. -----signature----- "Change. It can be good. It can be bad. It can be expected or come as a thief in the night. Invited or not, it always comes." ~Koria "Tender Shadows", co-written w/ The Musical Jedi "Two Peas Out of the Pod" http://www.nanowrimo.org/eng/user/205643
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ForceWriter Registered: May '08	Date Posted: 9/1 3:47pm Subject: RE: Writer With The Force Challenge Entries: Round One, Challenge 7 Entries up 9/1!
	Challenge Seven: Five Times For this challenge you are to write about the "five times" someone did something or something happened. Your title should be "The Five Times" followed by what it is about. Example: The Five Times Luke Hurled Force Lightening Then the story would proceed to explain each of the five times Luke hurled Force lightening. Voting Ends 3pm Thursday September 4th! Entry # 3 Title: Han Solo and the Princess Era: The Saga(ish) Characters: Han Solo and Leia Organa (Duh.) Summary: The five times Han Solo proposes to Leia Organa. LEITMOTIF I: In which there is a lot of Corellian whiskey... The first time that Han Solo (captain of the famous Millennium Falcon, psuedo-reformed smuggler, and admittedly handsome spacer) proposes marriage to Leia Organa (princess of a planet that no longer exists, member of a senate that no longer exists, and doe-eyed rebel ice queen), it is on a dare and he is drunk. Seven shots of cheap Corellian whiskey, a raucous drinking game with Rogue Squadron, and a perpetually jubilant mood following a crippling blow to an evil enemy, a victory celebration, and an Alliance Medal of Honor have been known to do that to a man. To his credit, Captain Solo is not the only drunk sentient on Yavin IV, and to her credit, Senator-Princess Organa is perhaps the only sober sentient on Yavin IV. So instead of being angry, because she could have easily been angry, she only rolls her (soulful, beautiful, chocolate brown) eyes and shakes her pretty head, but not hard enough so any soft, loose tendrils fall from her elaborate braids. “In your dreams, Flyboy,” she says, and Captain Solo gives her a half-grin and a mock bow and returns to his seat, somewhere between twelve laughing Rogues on their eighth shot of whiskey, one roaring walking carpet, one middle-aged Alderaani general who is not quite ready to deal with his grief, and one red-faced farmboy-turned-Jedi apprentice-turned-intergalactic hero, leaving her alone in her corner, left to nurse her half-full glass of too-sweet Nabooan champagne and think about everything everywhere but a marriage to a handsome Corellian scoundrel. (But she tries not to think about what her father might say, because that thought just might be too painful.) LEITMOTIF II: In which there is something like friendship... The second time that Han Solo (captain of a barely-working tin can, swaggering space pirate, and arrogant bantha-head) proposes marriage to Leia Organa (stuck-up princess, too-careful politician, and fresh-faced beauty, if only she would just smile), it is fifteen minutes after she first rejected such a preposterous idea and she can’t decide if he is a little more or a little less drunk. This time, instead of sauntering her way and leaning an elbow on the table in front of her so his face is level with hers and she can see every fleck of green and gold swimming in his eyes, he kneels before her on one knee and takes her delicate hand in his, calloused and strong, and repeats his question. Only, this time there is no smile in his voice and he is serious, so serious. She can hear the snickering of the Rogues and refuses to glance in that direction and refuses to look at him and refuses to look anywhere but their tangled fingers because she is suddenly and inexplicably overwhelmed with a deep and debilitating sadness. “My father won’t be at my wedding,” she whispers quietly, though she meant to say, “No,” and Captain Solo, that jaded spacer, that strange enigma, understands immediately. He stands and pulls her up by her trembling hand and wraps a strong arm around her trembling shoulders and ignores the startled looks from the Rogues that she can just feel boring into her back. She half-wonders where he is taking her, but she does not do so for long because they are suddenly outside, in the dark, beneath the stars, and he guides her (soulful, beautiful, chocolate brown) eyes to a shimmering light in the sky and whispers “Alderaan” into the crown of her head and his breath is warm in her hair. Then he circles her into him as her trembling gives way to sobs that she knows no one but he will ever witness and he strokes her back until she quiets, and silly drunken proposals are forgotten. (She knew there was more to him than money.) LEITMOTIF III: In which there is too much violence... The third time that Han Solo (captain of his own ship but not in the Rebellion even though the position has been offered at least five times, for the love of the Force, laser-brained scoundrel, and secret softy, but don’t you dare tell anyone) proposes marriage to Leia Organa (stubbornly duty-bound rebel, undiplomatic diplomat, and pint-sized powerhouse in pretty packaging), he does it to shut her up. They are fighting again, because they do it so well and because it is easier than loving, and it started over gods-know-what but came around like it always does (always does, how does she do that?) to his inability to commit to the Rebellion and anything else but his Wookiee and his ship. So he steps towards her, one, two, three, reminding her of an exotic and sensual tango she’d seen once, danced by visitors to her father’s court, and he leans in so the tips of their noses touch and he can see her (soulful, beautiful, chocolate brown) eyes and she pretends not to notice the sparks and he whispers, “Why don’t you marry me then, Your Worship? Then you’ll see how committed I can be.” And she struggles for her breath for a minute, but only a minute because then his face melts into that attractive, infuriating grin that he gets when he knows he’s won and she finds her voice again, enough of it anyway to bite out, “Captain, one of these days you’re going to have to answer for being such an arrogant fool.” She doesn’t stay to watch his ego deflate and choses instead to turn quickly on one heel, an action that always awards her with such a satisfying crunch of the ice beneath her boot, and stalks through the corridors of frozen Echo Base and decides that she is shaking from the cold and from the anger and most definitely not from the realization that she had almost said, “Yes.” (He punches a wall when he gets back to his ship and breaks the third knuckle on his right hand, because he’s in love with her, and because he doesn’t want to be.) LEITMOTIF IV: In which there is not a kiss... The fourth time that Han Solo (temporarily blind captain of the Millennium Falcon, freshly bounty-free reformed smuggler, and shakily swaggering scoundrel-turned-nice man) proposes marriage to Leia Organa (duty-bound rebel leader on an extended leave of absence, recently liberated slave girl, and half-vindicated strangler of intergalactic crime lords), he is still suffering from hibernation sickness and she hasn’t yet gotten the collar off her neck. He asks her as she leads him to his sorely missed bunk on his sorely missed ship, and she smiles, but he can only halfway tell because everything is still so blurry. He asks her again as she takes off his shoes and tells him to lie down, then she leans in so her breath is warm on his cheek and he can see her (soulful, beautiful, chocolate brown) eyes, eyes that he has missed so, so much, eyes that were sad and terrified the last time he saw them and are now deep pools of liquid jubilation. He tells her that he loves her and that he is committed to her and he brushes trembling fingers over the collar on her neck and realizes that he is crying because she has endured so much for him. (Somehow, he forgets what he has endured for her, but when he remembers, he decides he would do it a million times over.) And when she tells him he’s worth it, he asks her again, and she wipes away his tears with a gentle hand and a gentle smile and says, “Let’s talk about this some other time, Nerfherder. You need your rest.” Then she lays beside him and rests her head on his chest so she can hear his heart beating and feel him breathing and it reminds her that he is there and he is real and so alive. And he can feel the collar still around her neck, cold even through the blankets, as he begins to fade into the sweet oblivion of sleep, free sleep, and he thinks that, perhaps it is time to join her Rebellion, because it definitely couldn’t hurt his chances for happily-ever-after with her, because he is finally free, and because maybe, just maybe, he believes in it, too. (Later, when he accepts the commission of general, he still believes in their mission, but secretly, it’s because he knows when they win, they’ll want to marry her off to the highest bidder, and he wants to get there first.) LEITMOTIF V: In which there is finally an answer... The fifth time that Han Solo (well-respected Alliance general, hero of the Battle of Endor, and honorary member of an Ewok tribe) proposes marriage to Leia Organa (twin sister of the very last of the Jedi, honorary member of an Ewok tribe, and soon-to-be Minister of State of the New Republic), he is still exhausted from the battle two days ago and so is she, and the setting sun is reflecting in her (soulful, beautiful, chocolate brown) eyes, and she says, “Yes.” (And they live happily ever after. Because they have their love, and for once, that is enough.) Other Threads: Beyond the Saga Before the Saga -----signature----- Writer With the Force Challenge Sock http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=28454919&brd=10304&start=28454938 . Congrats to the 1st WWTF Champion: ZaraValinor!
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Alexis_Wingstar Registered: Sep '06	Date Posted: 9/1 7:01pm Subject: RE: Writer With The Force Challenge Entries: Round One, Challenge 7 Entries up 9/1!
	That was so sweet. I love the repetition of her (soulful, beautiful, chocolate brown) eyes and how the descriptions of Han and Leia's status change during the five times. -----signature----- "Change. It can be good. It can be bad. It can be expected or come as a thief in the night. Invited or not, it always comes." ~Koria "Tender Shadows", co-written w/ The Musical Jedi "Two Peas Out of the Pod" http://www.nanowrimo.org/eng/user/205643
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ForceWriter Registered: May '08	Date Posted: 9/15 10:36am Subject: RE: Writer With The Force Challenge Entries: Round One, Challenge 8 Entries up 9/15!
	Challenge Eight: A picture is worth a thousand words... literally. For this challenge the authors were to pick a picture of anyone or anything and write a story with 1,000 words exactly. If they sent in a story that was too long, they got cut off, too short and they get -1 added to their score for this challenge. As for voting, don't worry about the word count, just look at the picture, read the story and vote! For rules on voting, please see the first post of this thread! Voting will end at 5pm board time Thursday September 18th! Entry # 4 Title: The Brightest Era: Saga Everything was awkward. The silence. Anakin had been a Jedi apprentice for just a few days. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Anakin Skywalker breathed looking out the forward viewport of the ship that would take him and his new Master from Naboo to Coruscant. Outside, blossoming in a mass of colorful, shifting gas, red to orange, orange to yellow, yellow to green, green to blue, blue to violet, was the beginnings of a star, a sun for a future system. It boiled, a mysterious pot being pulled and pushed by unseen but real forces, coalescing, creating and destroying. “What is it, Ob...Master?” Anakin asked brokenly. In his life before, he had never called his owner Master, never allowed himself to be owned. But here, he had offered himself to instruction. He didn’t understand all of it, but it was becoming easier to think of Master as an guide and not owner. Obi-Wan, as fresh and green as Anakin himself, looked down upon him with a sad, but knowing smile. “It’s us.” “Us?” He thought Qui-Gon had been confusing. All that talk of trusting his instincts and believing in the Force. Anakin was sure that Obi-Wan would be ten times as worse. Squinting, the former slave tried to understand what Obi-Wan was telling him. He hadn’t been as close to the young Jedi apprentice as he had been with Master Qui-Gon, but he wanted to show that Obi-Wan had made the right choice. He wanted to succeed more than anything, to prove that he was more than a slave to himself, to his mom. But no matter how he tried to see the billowing gases, to see something that went beyond the obvious, he could not. “I’m sorry, Master, I don’t understand. Its just a bunch of color and lights.” A gentle, unsure hand settled on his back, followed by a soft laugh. “I should be more clear. I only meant that we are on the cusp, the beginning of things.” “But it looks so violent,” Anakin countered. Obi-Wan nodded, his throat working as he swallowed heavily. “Yes, quite violent.” His eyes grew opaque, his gaze unseeing for several long moments. “I’m afraid that we will not be short on our share of...inconvenience. But I hope that we won’t find ourselves in the same sort of trouble as Naboo for a few more years.” Naboo. What was supposed to be a simple negotiations for two experience Jedi, had left one of them dead, the other unexpectedly Knighted and with an apprentice of his own. The Sith had been discovered to be a real threat and not as extinct as the Jedi had thought them to be. Anakin had been in the middle of it, suddenly thrown into the chaos of a war and saving an entire planet from slavery. “No Trade Federation,” the boy agreed. He couldn’t see the pain in Obi-Wan’s face, but he could feel it in the Force, a heavy, salty wetness. Unshed tears. “But what will happen to it?” What will happen to us? he really wanted to ask. Turning his focus back to the bundle of changing gases, Anakin waited. “Well, there are forces, gravitational that it will interact and reenact with. Sometimes the pressure will be intense.” Obi-Wan closed his eyes. “Almost impossible to withstand. Then, after sometime, and much tribulation, everything will coalesce. And there will be a star. A light to the universe.” “Like Qui-Gon?” Anakin asked. For a moment, a mosaic of emotions as varied as the colors in the fledging star, played across Obi-Wan’s face. Surprise that Anakin had been so quick to make that conclusion, saddened by the remembrance of the man who had raised him and cultivated the Jedi he was today, and proud of his Master’s accomplishments. Eventually, the maelstrom of emotion slowed and settled to fondness. “He would have fought you on that, Anakin. My Master could be quite stubborn. Always doing things in his own way. I would get so frustrated. But you’re right. He was a light. A beacon. Even if he wouldn’t see it that way.” “I miss him.” They fail silent, watching as the protostar moved into the distance. The ship repositioning itself to move from the burgeoning gravity field and back into hyperspace. Each lost in their own thoughts. “He’s still here. There is no death, only the Force.” “I wish I could watch it.” “You don’t need to watch, Anakin, you’ll live it. Every mission that will be on, every lesson learned, will take you one step closer to being that light in the darkness.” Anakin smiled. “Do you really think so?” “Master Qui-Gon believed that you could shine the brightest. And I believed Qui-Gon.” “I want to be the greatest Jedi ever,” the boy stated proudly. “You will be, Anakin. But for now. Let us enjoy the beginning. It can be rather beautiful too.” The ship lurched and there was the surreal pseudo motion, and suddenly the protostar was gone. Pinpricks of light stretched out, turned into starlines. It dazzled the senses and caused Anakin to feel queasy. Obi-Wan was right. He wasn’t ready for that type of brightness now. But someday he would be. He’d be everything that Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon believed him capable. He’d be the Chosen One. He’d help the Jedi take the Sith down and he would be the beacon to the universe. It would take years. And the pressures of being a Jedi seemed so abstract right then as a nine- year-old boy. Anakin would falter, for a time seeming more a black hole than the star he would have liked to become. But one day there would be a boy and that boy would see in him a spark, would help fuel it with his own brightness. Luke would be a star from the beginning. But when it counted, Anakin Skywalker, once known as Darth Vader, would burn brightly. Other Entry Threads: Beyond the Saga There are no Before the Saga entries for this challenge -----signature----- Writer With the Force Challenge Sock http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=28454919&brd=10304&start=28454938 . Congrats to the 1st WWTF Champion: ZaraValinor!
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