Star Wars OPEN Elite League Limmie

GM Post

Bonus rolls to Agamar, Bakura, Coruscant, Euceron, Mandoade, Nar Shaddaa, Ralltiir, and Rydonni Prime. Everybody! Hooray!

Week 8 Results

Ralltiir Starkillers at Rydonni Prime Monarchs (26-23)
Chandrila Patriots at Coruscant Senators (16-25)
Bakura Miners at Hapes Consortium Buccaneers (36-19)
Euceron Storm at Ylesia Lightning (15-3)
Agamar Packers at Corellia Rebels (4-0)
Mando’ade Mercs at Nar Shaddaa Smugglers (21-32)

HSN Projections

• Nar Shaddaa win or Ylesia loss will give Nar Shaddaa the Commissioner's Trophy and a first round playoff bye
• Ylesia win and Nar Shaddaa loss will give Ylesia the Commissioner's Trophy and a first round playoff bye
• Euceron will be the third seed in the Skywalker Conference playoffs due to head-to-head win over Mando'ade in Week 6
• Ralltiir will be the first seed in the Solo Conference and has secured a first round playoff bye
• A win by Rydonni Prime and a loss by Coruscant will give Rydonni Prime the second seed in the Solo Conference and home field in the Solo Conference Semifinal
• The winner of Coruscant/Bakura will go to the playoffs (HSN projects this with 90% confidence)
• Chandrila will be the third seed in the Solo Conference with a win and losses by Hapes and Bakura
• Hapes is eliminated from the playoff hunt

All projections are subject to change.

TAG: Bardan_Jusik CPL_Macja jcgoble3 Jedi Gunny Runjedirun Tim Battershell Vehn

 

Sub-GM Post

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

Limmie Futures League
Week 7
Thyferra Force at Druckenwell Marksmen (5–25)
Garqi Gunners at Byblos Red Wings (2–8)
Commenor Gundarks at Kashyyyk Rangers (8–10)
Tatooine Sandskimmers at Concordia Crusaders (2–28)

TAG: Jedi Gunny Bardan_Jusik Vehn Runjedirun Tim Battershell CPL_Macja

 

OOC: Approved by the great Mando himself: Bardan_Jusik.

IC: Kaitlyn Vehn
Week 8
Mercs 21, Smugglers 32



The Nar Shaddaa Smugglers and the Mando’ade Mercs met at midfield for the first time since the debacle that was the All-Star game and everyone watching the game, live and at home, could tell that these two teams absolutely hated one another. Had they been wearing blasters a shootout would have surely ensued and blood, real blood, would’ve been spilled all over the pitch. There could be no compromise today. There could be no soft hits. There could be no sportsmanship. This was the ugliest game in the league. It only seemed right that it was the night game.

No other rivalry in the galaxy compared. No two owners had as much to personally gain from seeing the other defeated as Beskaryc Taab and Kaitlyn Vehn did. Tonight the jail that was built into Six Boroughs was sure to be jam-packed with angry citizens of Mandalore and Nar Shaddaa. Security was tight. There could be no chances. Everyone in the crowd had to go through extensive security checks. One wrong move and a war beyond anything the league had ever seen could potentially erupt.

“Nar Shaddaa, are you ready?” The head referee asked.

Erin Windreaver, rage simmering underneath the surface, body tensed, sleek dark hair pressed against her skin, stared at her Merc counterpart and growled, “Ready.”

“Mando’ade, are you ready?”

Former Nar Shaddaa Smuggler midfielder, current Merc midfielder, and Reaver’s predecessor, Xander Darkrider, replied, “Ready.”

“I know that your teams share no love for one another so I won’t ask for a good, clean fight. I would be foolish to expect one. We’ll be keeping a sharp eye out for any ejectionable offenses. Don’t make us come down on you like we had to in the All-Star game. If the hitting gets out of hand we’re going to close the damn thing down. You frakking understand me?” The referee threatened.

“Understood,” the two midfielders replied at the same time.

“Game on,” the referee growled and set the bolo-ball on the ground.

The battle began with a ferocious physicality that took the league by storm. Ratings went through the roof as the game was closely contested throughout. By the time the half rolled around the game was tied at 15 and both sides looked as if they had truly gone to war. Many of the players had gashes on their faces, their arms, their knuckles, their legs, and still the two sides resumed their titanic struggle for something that went beyond a notch in the win column. No, everyone watching the game recognized that the only notch today that mattered would be the one that registered a kill.

The second half kicked off with a Mercs possession. There was Johnny Lieznam driving hard into the Smuggler’s defense. His athleticism on full display and so was his brash attitude that clashed in all the ways that mattered with Bree Tarth, Ken Zetter, Zen Keisel, and most of all, Jayla Leed.

“Bring that frakker down! Bring him down!” Leed screamed as Lieznam pumped his way into the goal box.

Leed backpedaled to get a better angle on the athletic forward but was popped hard in the back by Ariva Kendal. She hit the turf hard, head ringing, the groans from the crowd sifting through the raucous atmosphere to tell her that the Mercs had scored. The medical team rushed to her side but Leed waved them off. Her jaw ached like all get out. She spit out a mouthful of blood and suddenly knew that this game would require an entirely different game plan.

She called a timeout with the Mercs leading 18 to 15. The defense gathered around her.

“I know you’re tired. I know you’re ragged. Frak, I can’t even talk straight, I think my jaw is broken, but I’m still frakking playing. I want you to aim for their knees. Take Lieznam out. I don’t care if you’re ejected. I want that frakker broken, you got me? Get the ball out quick, pass it up to the offense. McCloud, Gunn, and McTodd can take it from there.”

“Jayla, you going to be okay?” Keisel asked, his beard drenched in blood.

“I won’t be okay if we lose this game,” Jayla hollered grabbing Keisel by the collar of his jersey. “Get your ass out there and win me one against these bastards.”

The game resumed. Reaver had a pass intercepted by one of the Hansons. Which one, nobody seemed to care. The ball once again ended up in Lieznam’s hands. He juked, he jinked, the guy was on fire and knew he had the upper hand here with the defense on its heels. Tarth, the former Miner, blonde hair whistling in the wind, broke free of Kendal and charged for Lieznam’s legs. Lieznam easily jumped up high and failed to see the head-hunting form of Kashvili, a former Merc, whipping into the air, forearm outstretched for a nasty crushing hit on Lieznam’s chest.

The stadium collectively held its breath as Lieznam cried out in pain from the hit, his lower body going one way, his upper body going another. The ball flew high into the air, way the heck up into the stars, and then came back down right into the outstretched arms of Raia Sanin who delivered a shovel pass to Brousard. Now the Mercs were the ones reeling, pummeled by the fast, precise offense of the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers.

Brousard was about to take a hit, flicked the ball on a lazy side-arm to Shady Lerouex who screamed in delight as she caught the Merc goalkeeper, Mitth'or'norris, out of position for an easy three. The Mercs responded with what was going to be their final points of the game. After that something psychologically changed. Nobody was sure what but whatever it was had absolutely broken the Mercs resolve to continue fighting. The Nar Shaddaa Smugglers pulled ahead and finished their war with a victory, with another notch in what had become the galaxy’s best rivalry.

Kaitlyn Vehn watched her battered and bloodied team refuse to shake hands with the Mercs after the game as they trudged off into the locker rooms in what was another memorable battle in the greatest
contest of them all: The Game of Rivals.

Tag:Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Flynn Carp and Ozzy Rytund
HSN Studios, Coruscant

“Hello fans, and welcome to Senators Gameday,” Flynn Carp, the human, said. “I’m Flynn Carp, and as always, here with the most colorful commentator this side of the Mid Rim, Ozzy Rytund. Today we’ve got an intense rivalry game for y’all, with your Coruscant Senators going up against the Chandrila Patriots in the Revolutionary War.”

“This will be an interesting game,” Rytund, a Duro, said. “Both teams are struggling, and whoever wins will still be in the playoff hunt for the last postseason spot in the Solo. However, the Senators have more to lose, because a loss here eliminates them from postseason contention. Their backs are against the wall, so we shall see how they do.”

“This season has been a hard experience for the Senators, with the injury bug rampant and robbing them of their best players. Somehow they’re still alive in this thing, but just barely. Do you think the team can bounce back and make the postseason if all the chips fall in the right way for them?” Carp inquired.

“I think they can, but it will be a tough road. Even if they win this week, they have to go to Bakura next week in the Senatorial Showdown. And with the way the team has played on the road all year, a win there doesn’t look likely unless the Miners pull their starters.”

“You don’t think the Senators can win that game?”

“I never said that. But recent history has put a pall of doubt over the team on the road, and the Miners know how to defend their home field in the regular season.”

“What is going to be interesting about today’s matchup is the sheer number of rookies the Senators are trotting out there,” Carp said, changing the subject. “They have ten rookies on their roster, including several starters. That’s a very young team, and isn’t something you normally would see from a Gark S’rily-managed team.”

“But S’rily is away from the team right now, so this team is in the hands of Adanna Inviere, his assistant. And she obviously feels like bringing rookies up from Thyferra gives them a leg-up going into next season. Besides, with the way many of the veterans on this team were struggling, I don’t blame her. It was time to bring in some new blood.”

“Is this perhaps her audition for a GMing role elsewhere?” Carp asked.

“Possibly. I think we’re just looking at triage for this season, but if Inviere can right the ship in these last few games, we might see some interest in her in that role a season or two from now. There would be a lot of demand for an assistant of S’rily, given how the Senators have been a model franchise for about the last decade and a half.”

“It will be interesting to see how these last two games play out. Now, about those rookies. The starting lineup the Senators will be using today is virtually unrecognizable from their Opening Day lineup. Offense looks sort of the same, but the midfield and defense both look completely different.”

“That defense is a complete work-in-progress,” Rytund stated. “Not a single starter in this game was starting on Opening Day. That’s unheard of in this league, but I can see why the organization decided to go in this direction. They’re starting three rookies, and that’s something most other teams would never do.”

“Do you think the Senator offense can score enough to keep the pressure off Nihal Toggs in his first career start?” Carp asked. “They’re asking a lot from Maximus Qorbus, who’s off to a torrid clip in the first seven games. But can he keep that scoring pace up in the last two games?”

“The rest of the offense will need to step up if they want to win this game. Qorbus can’t be the only option on offense as he is too often. They need to get Styles and Persnor involved more. I mean, the guy was an All-Star in 270; give him a chance to take some shots on goal, and only good things can happen.”

“I think Vail Pin is the X-Factor today,” Carp said.

“How so?”

“She’s playing alongside Qorbus at the opposite corner, so it’s up to her to bring pressure off the edge to complement his presence on the other end of the field. If she can take a page out of Qorbus’ book and use some post moves and back down the Patriot defenders, she might be able to kick it back out to an open forward or bust it inside and try to score. On the overall, she needs to have a good game so that the Patriots don’t double and triple-team Qorbus. That’s how the Monarchs shut Qorbus down at times last week, and it wasn’t good.”

“Dauza Chary is my offensive X-Factor,” Rytund quipped. “She needs to keep spreading the ball around and try to find open players. But most importantly, she has to make sure her forwards are in the right spot to make plays. And she can’t be afraid to take a shot on goal. If she proves that she is a legitimate scoring threat, that might take some pressure off the other forwards.”

“Bad blood rivalry game today. The Patriots have taken the last three in the series, so the Senators are looking to break that string and pick up a win. They’re at home, so they have that advantage.”

“They can’t try to coast to victory because they’re at home. The Patriots, despite struggling this year, can play with the best of them when they want to. The Senators have to make sure they apply defensive pressure, and to keep the ball in the hands of their offense so that they can bleed the clock. They can win, but it won’t be easy.”

“Now, the Senator starting lineup.” An image of the field appeared on screen with names and faces in their positions on the field. “On offense, they’ve got Qorbus and Pin at the corners, Styles at the full. At half, it’s Persnor, Chary, and Maff Biskis. He’s making his first start of the season, and first Elite League start since 271 when he was with Thyferra in their one-year run.”

“Not a bad offense,” Rytund said. “Lots of proven scorers from those six. Chary needs to feed Persnor and Qorbus the ball, and Styles and Biskis can fill in the rest.”

“At midfield, the return of Gayla Renhorn to the lineup will help. She will be starting alongside Mekmek, the rookie in her third career ELL game.”

“We’ll see if Renhorn is rusty from that suspension,” Rytund said.

“And the defense is where the confusion begins. Wyley and Bratter are the only two defenders still playing now who were on the Opening Day roster, and both of them are playing half back. Rainy Frantsen makes another start at half back, and Meels, the rookie third-round pick from last year, is also out there in that capacity. Rounding out the rest of the starters are Blylock, Gundor in a hybrid back role, and Toggs in goal for this first career start.”

“That defense frightens me,” Rytund said. “Too much inexperience for my liking. Three rookies starting, and two veterans who before now rarely ever started in the league are now being relied on to lead. It’s going to be a rough game for this defense unless their offense helps them out.”

“But these are some good defensive prospects,” Carp interjected. “We’ve been hearing about this Meels kid for a while now with Thyferra; he’s a good one. Blylock has some talent, as does Gundor. They just need more playing time to develop.”

“Nothing like a trial by fire,” Rytund said.

“With that being said, we’re all done here. Now, to the field, and our commentary team . . .”

---

IC: Christine Gamble
Senator Locker Room

Christine looked at the team around her, and barely recognized it. There were so many rookies she didn’t know; they had been at camp, but she hadn’t been talking to them. They were just nameless bodies right now . . . but they were all the team had.

“Today is going to be an interesting game,” Pamila Korthe said to her team. “The Patriots are coming in here thinking they can push us around. But we can shove it right back in their faces. Send them packing down to Stoney End. But in order to do that, we’re going to have to keep the ball on offense. If you find a good shot, take it as normal, but don’t force anything. We need to keep the Patriot defense tired so that we can take it easy on the defense. The goal for today is forty minutes of possession time; try to get as much as we can. If we get a lead, sit on the ball and chew clock. Midfielders, you need to play defense like your life depends on it. Gayla, I need you to get over your temper issues and play like the ‘Wild Thing’ they say you are.

On offense, we need to keep everyone involved. Dauza, make sure to get it to Max on the block. However, if he’s covered, get it to Styles or Riff. They can make the best of their touches. Maff, you need to be an integral part of this offense today. Slash the Patriot defense and try to draw their attention. I know you have talent, because you broke our scoring record back in the day. Show me some of that today.

Defense . . . good luck. Switch often and try to keep the Patriot forwards in front of you. If they get by one defender, someone else needs to step in. We’re going to play a lot of zone today since you haven’t practiced much together. Reena, Tank . . . you need to step up and prove that you can be leaders. Your jobs for next year might depend on how you do.

Now, let’s get out there and take that Axe back from those singing wannabes.”

As the team made its way onto the field, Christine came behind them on her crutches. The other players who were injured joined her, Evis Kunat also on crutches. They were a sad-looking bunch, since the Patriots had no major injuries. How they could stay so healthy, no one knew. And this disturbed Christine. What if her injury made her expendable? If all these rookie defenders did well in these last few games, and maybe even propelled the Senators into the playoffs, as farfetched as that sounded . . . was her job safe after that? Or would she be replaced by that one Zeltron corner, Tenegat or D’jukk, and pretty boy Roggers? Could she, Christine Gamble, be the flash in the pan for two years and then fade into obscurity? She wanted the team to do well, but not that well. She wanted her job when she returned to playing shape. But would it still be there for her?

When the team huddled up before the starters hit the field, Christine listened in on the last few bits of advice. She wanted to say something, but she couldn’t open her mouth. It was like her opinion didn’t matter anymore. She was just an injured Limmie player, the crutches defining her person more than her All-Star trips or first-round pick status could now. She couldn’t play, so therefore she was a nobody, just another fan. And the stands were less than heartening to look at. Obviously a lot of Senator fans had given up on the season, and large swaths of green and white were visible. And they were starting to sing that frakking Stoney End crap that they always did. Christine hated fans who sang crappy songs. They just never knew when to shut up.

Finally she made her way to the bench, where she sat down and placed her crutches aside. It was going to be a long game, but her injury had made this a long season. Now there were just two games left . . . two long games.

---

IC: Adanna Inviere

Adanna sat in the team box, staring down at the field intently. The moves she had made over the past two weeks had to work. She was now on the hook for anything that might go wrong. The margin of error for an assistant GM was small compared to the big job, but now that was hers, as least on an interim basis. Now was her chance to not only prove why Gark S’rily had hired her for this job, but also that she deserved an opportunity to gain extra duties, or maybe gain employment somewhere else as a GM. Lots of things were in play today, but everything started with this game.

“It’s going to be a long day if the defense can’t make stops,” Londy Whiste, the teams’ pseudo-owner, said.

“It’s always like that,” Adanna said, her attention not even wavering from the field. “We just need to see if Pamila can use the pieces we got for her. Those rookies are getting their sea legs now. No more excuses, just time to put their fists up and make the best of it.”

---

The game was hard early. Both defenses clamped down, and the offenses were hitting a wall. Christine noticed early on that Qorbus was being double-teamed the whole time, and that Chary wasn’t making her usual plays. She had to swing the ball.

“Swing it! Swing it!” she could hear Polis Vayne yelling. Finally the Nemoidian threw it to Riff Persnor, who passed it back before being clobbered by Gorrika. Chary then got it to Qorbus in the post, where the Nautolan went to work on Cortina Shakalaka. The Theelin was no match for the Nautolan’s size and power, but when Qorbus tried to shoot at the goal, Ugdulo Borr deflected the ball. It somehow slipped over the bar for a point, but it wasn’t the kind of possession the team wanted. The point scored had been a lucky one; that likely wouldn’t happen again. They needed to give Qorbus help in the post if they wanted to get good looks against the overextended Patriot defense.

The next possession down, Chary passed it to Biskis. The forward checked his options before running a little bit and stopping in front of a roadblock of green and white. He passed it back out to Chary, who reset the offense. The call was to bring Qorbus on a wheel route towards the goal, with Persnor running a slant over the middle to draw defenders. But Qorbus’ move was impeded by a Patriot, and he was shadowed by two more on his move. Chary passed it to Riff, who was moving in the flat at high speed. Then, as he tried to chuck it over to Vail Pin, Jerrod Nabak came over and smacked his head into Riff’s arm, and the ball popped up into the air. Sorcha Styles kicked the ball away from Shakalaka, but the ball skittered out of bounds and went to the Patriots.

Except that the game didn’t restart. Riff was down on the turf, holding his arm. The hit by Nabak had obviously put a lot of pressure on the arm, and from the looks of it, the injury wasn’t good. The training staff, whom Christine still wanted to punch for forcing her to undergo surgery without her consent, came out, and carefully brought Persnor back to the sideline. He was holding his arm gingerly by his side, which meant that it was more than just a stinger.

“We may have broken bones,” Hamlin Trenos commented.

And there went Riff Persnor. The final Senator captain had now tumbled down with an injury. Zero Senator players out there today in uniform had any captaincy letters; it wasn’t important, but it was of symbolic importance to have one. Yet the Senators had none now. They were all on Injured Reserve on the sidelines, and it looked like Riff would be joining them. How unfortunate.

Qorbus scored two more bar points in the first half as he backed in on Shakalaka, but on the overall the Senators struggled to keep the pressure on Chandrila without Riff and his threat to score. The Patriots led 14-4 at the half, with three Qorbus bar points and one by reserve forward Arkan Matsoto for the home team. The fans in the stands were getting restless . . . or at least the home fans. The road fans were singing louder than ever, their voices like nails on a chalkboard for Christine. Stoney End was a tiny park, so when the Patriots were on the road, they travelled well. Given that the Senators had a huge stadium, and were doing poorly, more Patriot fans were able to get tickets and show up to support their team. At least 40% of the stands had to be wearing green and white.

At halftime, Korthe tried to get her troops back on the same page. She pushed Thulius Jomas into the starting lineup for the second half, and told the defense to keep contain. Wyley and Bratter were holding their own, but Blylock and Roggers were struggling to stop Lorem Ipsum. The star forward had six points on the game, both on easy goals on Nihal Toggs when the defense slipped up and left him wide-open. They couldn’t do that again. The other defenders were doing OK, but nothing spectacular. They had to adjust and keep the Pats in front of them. That was their only chance.

When the second half started, it looked like a redux of the first half. Ipsum pushed off of Blylock, received the pass, and then smashed the ball over the bar for a quick point. There were some boos from the Senator fans in the stands. Their team was horrible. Christine smacked the bench with her hand, but knew she shouldn’t have when the pain finally registered in her head. Why was this team so bad?

The Patriots came down after a turnover by Wylega Persnor on the other end, with Avano Koobis, the Patriot captain, now being guarded by Girola Gundor, who had been switched off her matchup in the zone look. Koobis pump faked, and the Nautolan rookie jumped. That let Koobis through, and it was yet another defensive mistake. But Tank Bratter was there, as he unloaded on Koobis. The Rodian fell to the turf, the ball squirting out. Bratter picked it up and chucked it up the field to Mekmek. The Mon Calamari rookie dodged Norran Findal and then passed it up to Dauza Chary at the top of the Senator zone.

As with Riff earlier on in the game, Chary went down hard when Kelman Kint switched over and piledrived the Nemoidian in the chest. She went down hard, and the ball squirted out. Gayla Renhorn, sensing the Patriots trying to make a push, smartly kicked the ball out of bounds to stop the clock. Chary struggled to get over to the sidelines, holding her gut. It had been a tough body blow, and now another Senator was out with an injury. Zadd was now out there to replace her, three reserves on the Opening Day roster now manning the three half forward positions.

The Patriot push was stalled with an interception by Mekmek. She jumped to pick off the pass intended by Findal, and then pushed it up herself. She had to wheel around to keep Kint from hitting her, and then passed to Zadd. The Defel began to run, blowing past Kint on his way around. Sorcha Styles got open on the side, and Zadd passed it to her. Styles tried to size up Borr in the flat, and decided that she wanted no part of the Chevin. So she passed it wide to Thulius Jomas, who had a mismatch with Shakalaka. The large forward pushed his matchup back several paces with a strong post push, and then looked for help. He couldn’t get to the goal from here; it would be a bad shot. Qorbus was covered, so that left . . . Zadd. The Defel cut through the formation and caught the pass. Seeing an opportunity, he let loose a cannon shot that streaked over the bar for a point. The Senators were down ten. There was still hope.

The Patriots scored once more with an Ipsum shot over the bar. Ortho Dyhon jammed his toe, and had to get to the sideline during the chaos. That meant one less defender out there for the home team. 16-5 Patriots with plenty of time left in the second half.

“We have to do this,” Reena Wyley said to the defenders during the media timeout. “This is our chance to pick up a win and prove that we belong here.”

And belong they did. The next three Patriot possessions came up with nothing, as Wyley made a nice play to force a fumble and Tank blew up Koobis on another huge hit to cause a fumble. On the other end, Zadd pushed in another bar point. They had ten points to make up, so it wasn’t going to be easy. But it wasn’t impossible.

With the defense finally hitting its stride, the Senator offense tried to find its groove. Qorbus, when he was double-teamed by Borr and Shakalaka down in the post, gunned it out on the perimeter to Vail Pin, who had come across the field to help out. The Shistavanen tossed the ball over the bar for a point. Nine points.

“They can’t keep going for one. They have to score goals,” Cord McKerty said next to Christine on the bench. He had accidentally torn his hamstring when he had overworked it weeks before. He had been having hamstring soreness which had kept him out of several games, and then with the revelation that Dr. Trenos had forced Christine to have surgery, had decided to rebel. So he practiced hard anyways, and that had led to his season-ending injury. The front office likely frowned upon that move. It had been reckless, and was completely unnecessary. But it had been that kind of season.

Now Jomas had the ball against Kint. Sizing up his matchup, Jomas got a screen from Pin and advanced the ball forward. But there were several Pats in his way, so he did the only thing he could. He passed off to Maff Biskis, who was slashing in from the side. The forward bowled over Shakalaka, who had been frozen where she stood with Jomas’ sudden move, to catch the pass. Now he weaved in and out through the lane, which was clogged with green and white. He stiff-armed Borr in the face, which opened up a small alley in the defense. Gekkgon tried to arm tackle, but Biskis was too good and made the Zabrak whiff. Now he had a chance to make a play on goal. Keline Socken was ready in goal for the green and white, so Biskis changed tactics. He put on the brakes and pump faked, which drew Socken out of the zone. When Biskis realized that he was hemmed in, he tossed it out to Styles, who had been following the play. Styles was swarmed under quickly by Borr, but Biskis was now charging in. He got the ball and then painted the corner of the net for three points. The Senators were back in business.

Biskis then took over the game. A bar point later, he used a screen from Pin to get free and then catch the ball from Qorbus on the block. No one was around him; now was his chance.

---

IC: Adanna Inviere

Adanna watched from the team box as Biskis caught the pass in open space. “Come on, finish that play,” she muttered to herself. “Socken is out of place on the left side. A shot to the top should burn her.”

And Biskis did exactly that. He kicked the ball to the left side of the net, and it screamed past the goal line for three. Biskis whooped it up down on the field, and Adanna leaped out of her seat upon seeing the goal. “Yes! That’s how you do it! I love that guy!”

And then she realized that she wasn’t alone in the box. Londy was giving her an odd look, and Adanna quickly sat down when she realized that she had been caught red-handed.

“What was that all about?” Londy asked.

“It was a nice goal, nothing more,” Adanna said.

“Mm hm,” Londy said. It wasn’t like him to make a judgment like that, but Adanna didn’t exactly leap out of her seat when anyone else scored a goal. On the first Biskis goal, she had celebrated . . . but this was completely new territory for the normally-stoic Hapan.

Now the Senators were down six points. Adanna could see that the defense was stiffening in their end, keeping the Patriots on the perimeter and making it easy for Toggs in goal to stand his ground.

---

IC: Christine Gamble

Christine watched the Senator defense figure itself out and shut the Patriots down. The tables had turned; now the Senators were on the attack. A stop made by Roggers led to a counterattack by the Senator forwards. Arkan Matsoto had the ball, passed it off to the hot hand of Biskis, and then he passed it around to Pin. Pin pushed it into the post to Qorbus, who then gunned it around to Styles on the inside lane. The Bothan scored a goal when Socken just barely missed knocking the shot away, and now the deficit was three points. No more Stoney End song could be heard in the venue, the Pats faithful stunned that their team was grinding to a halt.

And the Senators didn’t stop there. They kept plugging away on both offense and defense, shutting the Pats out the rest of the game. When all was said and done, the Senators walked away with a neat 25-16 win over their rivals. Pamila Korthe got to raise the Revolutionary Axe above her head to the cheers of the crowd. If nothing else went right for them this season, at least they had one rivalry trophy in their case back at Team HQ.

Christine knew that the rookies had done their job today. They had knuckled down when the time came, and had shown that they could do it. But they had to do the same against Bakura. It was until later that the team found out that the Senatorial Showdown would be for all the marbles in the Solo Conference playoff hunt. Win and get in, lose and go home was the mantra of this next game.

After the game, some of the players and coaches gave interviews.

“Coach, what do you feel your chances are next week against the Miners and your rivalry with Gaerial Valerii?”

“If we play like we did in the second half today, I’m not too concerned,” Pamila said. “Now, that being said, the Miners are a good team, and have been struggling as of late. You can never count them out, so I expect that we’ll see fireworks next week.”

“Any extra pressure with next week being Bakura’s Truce Day Game?”

“I think we have more pressure on us due to our poor road record than anything the Miners are doing,” the Zelttron head coach said. “What kind of pressure that day has on them stays with them. I’m only concerned about my team and where we’re headed.”

“Everything comes down to this final game. With the injury list you have, you may need to get more minutes from your roster full of rookies. Will that change your plans for next week?”

“I pretty much threw my plans out a few weeks ago when the injuries piled up,” Pam replied. “My staff and I will come up with a game plan this week, and we hope that our team, whatever shape it’s in, will be able to execute it well enough to earn the win. Simple as that.”

“Anything you have to say to the audience around the galaxy?”


“I do have one thing. Tune in to the Showdown next week. It should be a good one.”

TAG: Trieste

 

IC: Martin Vigo:

I sat nursing a cup of caf, pretending to read the news story on my data pad as Bat clutched the stairway railing with both hands and took his first step downward. He made his way down one slow step at a time. His good leg, his left taking the lead on every stair. The right leg dragging behind. His eyes concentrated on each step as he made his way, his hands gripping with all their strength. Hunched over and determined he made his way ever so slowly to the first floor of our home. When he got down he used furniture to surf his way to the kitchen, like toddler just learning to walk. He sat in the first chair he touched, I could hear him breathing heavily, even though I knew he was trying to hide it.

“Did you walk down here?” I heard his mother ask. “I thought you weren’t supposed to walk unassisted.”

Her question went unanswered. I got up and walked in the kitchen to refill my caf. “Don’t ignore your mother.” I said taking a seat at the table and grabbing a cold plant based meat substitute strip.

Bat made a face as I took a bite of food. “I wouldn’t exactly call it walking,” he said. “It certainly wasn’t unassisted.”

“Where’s the walker your therapist brought?” I asked.

“I hate that thing, walkers are for old people. I’m not old.”

“If you fall you could find yourself back in the hoverchair or worse.” I warned. “Where is your walker?”

“In my bedroom,” he replied defeated.

“I’ll go get it,” I said as I backed up my chair and headed to retrieve it.

When I got back to the kitchen my wife had a favor to ask. “Can you watch Zoey this afternoon? I need to direct at the dance rehearsal, the performance is only a couple days from now. Spencer will be with me, so I can’t ask him.”

“What about Tomas?” I asked, “I thought he had a part in the recital.”

“He dropped out when you let him start playing Limmie.”

“You let him quit?”

“He didn’t quit, he had practice conflicts. It wasn’t going to work.”

“Where is Tomas?” I asked.

“He’s getting ready for practice, I’m going to drop him off on our way to rehearsal.”

I decided to take Tomas to practice. It would get Zoey and I out of the house and I was able to talk to him about the importance of commitments. I had also hoped to watch Tomas practice. I ended up on the other side of the park watching Zoey and several other toddlers run around a play area. I found myself wondering if Lucie and Ty were really going to have a baby. If so when the team went on road trips next season my wife and I would be left to watch two grandchildren. I decided, if that happened, I needed to find a reason to travel with the team.

When practice ended Tomas was starving. He wanted a burger so I stopped to get him one. Shortly after getting our food and finding a table I was recognized. “Mr. Vigo” a young fellow in a Fortune jersey called out across the restaurant. All eyes turned on us. “What’s the game plan tonight? How many points are we going to put past Galaxy Defender?”

“Tomas pack up your food,” I said quickly as I began to pack away my own and Zoey’s. The little girl started to cry.

“Hungry Grampa,” she said.

“You don’t seem too confident about that hasty trade you made to deal Cynour. Hopefully it wasn’t a big mistake.” An older gentlemen commented to me from the next table.

“You can eat in the speeder,” I told Zoey as I picked her up and whisked us away from the scene. Tomas followed closely behind. We didn’t even lift out of our parking spot before Zoey had spilled chocolate flavored blue milk on my upholstery.

When we finally got home I spent 45 minutes trying to put Zoey down for a nap. At last my wife got home and I quickly handed the girl over so I could answer some messages. My data pad had been buzzing non-stop ever since I left to take Tomas to practice.

It turned out that there had been a scheduling conflict. My wife’s youth dance production which had been planned for months in one of my theaters was somehow booked to be at the same time as a charity auction. There seemed to be no place in town that had an opening for the auction. Finally I convinced them it could be held in one of the press rooms at the Stadium.

By the time I retreated to watch the game that evening I was exhausted. As I entered the living room I noticed that Tomas and Spencer had moved some of the furniture. Spencer had an old Unanimous jersey on and Tomas was wearing the new Fortune one I gave at the beginning of the season. Tomas kicked a bolo ball directly at the spot where Spencer was standing between two end tables. Spencer didn’t even try to deflect the ball. He stepped to the side mocking fear of it. Tomas had kicked the ball hard, probably harder than he realized. It bounced off the wall and back towards one of the end tables. It hit the end table knocking it over with a loud clatter. “Too loud” Zoey exclaimed cupping her hands over her ears where she was sitting in an easy chair spectating.

“You tell ‘em Zoes.” I said as making my entrance.

Both boys were visibly startled. They turned slowly to face me. “We have a gym,” I reminded them. “Tomas take the ball to your room, pack it in your bag. I don’t want to see it out in the house again.”

“Yes sir.” He grabbed the ball and ran upstairs.

“Spencer I want the furniture where it belongs.” He pushed the sofa back up against the wall, then he picked up the end table that had fallen over. A leg fell off. I reached up and rubbed my temples with my fingertips. Just then Tomas came running back down the stairs. He was carrying an Allin jersey for Spencer to change into and Bat’s walker, Bat was making his way down slowly behind him. He put the walker down at the base of the stairs then raced into the room and tossed Spencer the Jersey.

“Take off that disgraceful…” he trailed off as he noticed Spencer holding the table leg.

They were both looking at me now, no doubt waiting for me to react. “Leave the table where it is,” I told Spencer. “You can do a holonet search for another one, find out how much it costs and come up with a plan to raise the funds, make sure Tomas helps. Run the plan by me tomorrow.”

“Good luck with that,” Bat said addressing Spencer. As he made his way into the room and surveyed the broken table. He plopped himself on the sofa and turned the holo on. “Games about to start,” he said.

I took a seat next to Bat. Spencer changed his jersey, he and Tomas sat on the other end of the sofa. As the final pre-game advertisement ended the broadcast began with a close up of Justyne that quickly spanned out to the entire Starkiller cheer squad. “Mommy!” Zoey called out standing up in her chair.

At this point, after everything I had experienced since getting out of bed that morning I was expecting a loss. Sure enough Rydonni Prime put three points up on us less than a minute into the game. Our next possession ended when Abe Cynour blocked a shot by Jul. The Monarchs drove up field again and put another point on the board, then another. Till called an early time out. I wondered if I should retreat to my office and find something else to spend my time on.

When the Starkillers took the field again Sen was on the bench. Ty had been moved up to center half back and an unfamiliar face was in Ty’s spot at left corner. “Is that one of the player’s Richard sent up?” Tomas asked. “He looks like an old man.”

Tomas was right by ELL standards the man was ancient looking. When the Monarchs began to drive downfield again Ty made a tackle and lodged the ball loose. He tossed it out to the weathered balding man who had taken his position. His appearance was deceiving. He had a powerful leg that was able to kick the ball all the way to up field where Flarn was waiting. Flarn made a quick pass to Jul and she kicked the ball over Cynour’s head and into the goal.

We kept pace with the Monarchs for the rest of the first half. On our end Jul scored 2 more points. Fortune also put in a goal and one bar point. Although we never took a lead, Marmu scored a goal at the end of the half that got us within one. With a halftime score of 12 – 13 I had at least forgotten my plans to retreat to my office.

Sen didn’t take the field for the second half and neither did the older gentlemen. Sosar Drif had been substituted in at center half back. Ty was back in position at left corner. Early on Teaspoon caught a ball that had been aimed at the goal and she flipped it out to Ty. Immediately Ty passed up field to Hovechar who dribbled around a bit until she found an opening to Jul. Jul scored another goal, we had our first lead. From there the score went back and forth several times. There were 5 minutes left when Fortune scored a point tying it up 23 all. Two minutes later Fortune had the ball again. He drove up to the goal then passed off to Jul. Jul made a quick pass to Flarn then Flarn passed back to Fortune who took a wide open shot that Cynour was unable to stop. The Monarchs had plenty of time. They drove the ball back down field. Teaspoon blocked one shot. Dev blocked another. “Get it out there!” Spencer yelled out in frustration. Although none of us could take our eyes off the game it was hard to watch. It was only a matter of time before one of the Monarchs was able to get it in our goal. Then Ty leaped into the air and intercepted a pass. He threw it quickly to midfield as he was heavily pressured. Hovechar was unable to make the catch and the Monarchs brought it right back down field. Teaspoon made another great block. There were only 30 seconds left now, the Monarchs were getting desperate. A final shot was made. Dev got a hand on it slowing it down and Teaspoon easily reached over and batted it out of play. The final buzzer blared. Tomas threw his hands in the air “First round bye!” He declared.

---

I made a point of working at my office inside the theater where my wife’s production was the day of the performance. That way even if I ended up on a call up until the last minute I couldn’t be late since I didn’t have anywhere to go. Justyne brought Tomas, Zoey and even Bat over to watch. I joined them in the audience a few minutes before the production began. Spencer was in almost every act. From the moment he took the stage I realized why he had taken up dance again. His partner was a beautiful young lady, though not so young. She was probably several years older the Spencer. I could tell just by the look in his eyes that he was infatuated with her.

Together they danced flawlessly. All I could do was worry that my 13 year old was in over his head. When we got home that night I asked my wife why she partnered him with a girl who was so much older. She brushed it off saying it was obvious that she needed someone to match is height and no girl his age had a chance. She was more concerned that Lucie didn’t show up. “She must still be mad at me for not letting her dance,” my wife said sadly.

I wasn’t sure where Lucie had been, but I assured her she and Ty would be at dinner the next night. The next night about an hour before we planned to sit down I received a call from Ty. “I’m afraid we have to pass on dinner.” He told me.

By the sound of his voice I knew something was wrong. “What’s the matter?” I asked.

“It’s Lucie, she was going to have a baby, but” there was a pause I knew what he was going to say before he was finally able to get the words out. “Now, she not.”

“I’m sorry.” They were the only words I could say. I really didn’t know what Lucie was feeling right now. I knew what Ty was facing though. He was likely to be up all night comforting his heartbroken wife. “Tell Lucie I am very sorry. Tell her I love her. Take care of her.”

“I will.”

The next morning my wife went to visit Lucie alone. She was afraid taking Zoey would be too much of a reminder to Lucie of what she had just lost. I was left with Bat, Spencer, Tomas and Zoey in my care. I took them all with me to the stadium. Bat was heavily dependent on crutches to get around. I had no choice. I had to leave Spencer in charge of caring for Zoey while I fielded some last minute phone calls from my office. Thankfully all three boys could sense something was up even though I had given them no more details than their sister wasn’t feeling well. When I got up to the box about 30 minutes before the start of the game everything was under control.

We were settling into our usual spots just before the game began. Bat was in the back by himself. Tomas, Spencer and I were up front. Zoey had settled into Spencer’s lap and was much calmer than normal. She was probably missing her grandmother. Then much to my surprise my wife and Lucie walked in. Zoey got up and ran for my wife. “How’s Grandma’s girl?” She asked sweeping her into a hug.

Lucie quietly sat down next to Bat. He moved away, “You’re not contagious are you?” He inquired.

“It’s not catching.” Lucie barked.

“Well excuse me.” Bat fired back. “Dad said you were under the weather and I figured it must be pretty bad because I’ve never heard of you missing a game performance…” he trailed off as he noticed that his sister had buried her head in her hands. “Luce, what’s wrong?”

Lucie rubbed her eyes and looked at her little brother. “I was going to have a baby. Ty and I were going to make the announcement just as soon as the season was over.” Her lip trembled. Bat reached out and gave his sister a hug. Tomas and Spencer had stopped watching the field. They were now staring back at the exchange between their older siblings.

“I’m sorry.” Bat said.

The anthem of Ralltiir was about to start. I tugged Tomas and Spencer to their feet knowing cameras were likely to be focused in on the box at any time.

Tag: @CPL_Macja

 

Week Eight Power Rankings

1. Nar Shaddaa Smugglers – Even though things aren’t quite sewn up in the Skywalker Conference for the Smugglers, they are riding high off a huge win in The Game of Rivals. They should make a deep playoff push, so if you’re looking for a safe bet for the Galactic Cup Final, you know who to pick. Just remember to play for entertainment only, and not investment purposes. 1

2. Ralltiir Starkillers – Bad teams in the Solo Conference have made it easier to go 4-0 in conference than in most other seasons, but that doesn’t diminish what this team has done. A close win against Rydonni Prime this past week has clinched a first-round bye for the Starkillers, who last year were treading water. Martin Vigo may be the new Kaitlyn Vehn. Or he’s just damn lucky. We’ll find out soon. 1

3. Rydonni Prime Monarchs – Yes they lost this week, but it was a bitterly close game the entire time. The Monarchs are proving that they are sticking to the gameplan, and it’s paying off for them with a trip to the postseason this year. Well, as long as they don’t blow it, which they have demonstrated in previous years. For their sanity, we hope not. 2

4. Ylesia Lightning – Ugly home loss to Euceron this week puts their bid for the top seed in the Skywalker in doubt. However, if we see a rematch in the playoffs, expect the Lightning to come out hungry and ready to avenge this loss. 3

5. Euceron Storm – Nice win on the road against Ylesia, and now have clinched the third playoff seed in the Skywalker. Now they have another week to get ready for the postseason, because we don’t expect to see their stars in this week. Of course, backups can be crucial in the postseason, so doling out heavy minutes to them this week might pay off. Or it might blow up in their faces. But what do they have to lose? 2

6. Bakura Miners – Great road win gets their offense back on track, and the defense making some stops. Now they need to stop a Senator offense that can either be great or terrible. Plus they’re playing at home, so they have an advantage there. Can the defending champs stay hungry and seal the deal this week? 3

7. Coruscant Senators – The Senators actually won a game! All kidding aside, they finally put together a complete effort this week despite Gark S’rily not doing anything. Just give Nihal Toggs the Ingbrand already, because after one good start he clearly deserves the ROY award! If they keep playing like this, the Senators may start winning the Ingbrand every year, because their rookies are top notch. One game determines everything this week? No problem. The Senator rookies can do it. 3

8. Mando’ade Mercs- Ugly loss to Nar Shaddaa eliminates the Mercs from the postseason, which sucks for them because they are hosting the Galactic Cup Final this year. Good news is that they proved they can challenge for the postseason, and that Lieznam wasn’t such a bad pick as we originally thought. It’s another rebuilding year for this team, but if other teams in the League have shown, sometimes a few down years is all you need to build up something impressive. Don’t give up on them just yet. 4

9. Chandrila Patriots – Long odds to make the postseason? No problem. The Patriots will likely be going down to Stoney End. Just to watch other Solo Conference teams play for the title. And to maybe be pelted by Patriot Nation with garbage and then lose their jobs by the proverbial firing squad. Times’ up, people! 3

10. Hapes Consortium Buccaneers – Eliminated from the postseason, and given a humiliating loss by the once-struggling Miners. Moira Mallory likely has overstayed her welcome, and her team will be in flux this offseason. But hey, as long as their players are still single, we’ll keep watching! 2

11. Agamar Packers – Scored four points? Check. Won a game? Check. Looks like Tim Dodd’s checklist just gained two new achievements. Now, if they had only played like this earlier in the season, and against better competition. N/C

12. Corellia Rebels – Move along, citizens. When you can’t score on Agamar’s league-worst defense, you know you don’t belong in this league. Go back to the Premier League, you posers! N/C

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

 

IC: Christine Gamble
Senator Shuttle, En Route to Bakura

Christine sat on one of the gravcouches in the team lounge, her crutches nearby as always. It had been two and a half weeks since the surgery, and she felt like the injury was getting a little better every day. But she didn’t dare not have the crutches to keep her upright, because when she tried to walk on the left leg, it hurt like hell. So she kept them, whether she liked them or not.

Also in the room were Mekmek, the Mon Calamari rookie midfielder, Reena Wyley, the Hapan defensive back who was now expected to help be a leader on the young defense, and Pam Korthe, the head coach. They were all watching a mid-week Holo show on the Elite League, with the announcers breaking down the Senatorial Showdown. Most of the rest of the team was either playing around on the half-size practice field in the back of the shuttle, lifting weights, drinking their share of the alcohol on board the ship, or sleeping, so it was quiet here in the lounge.

“The Miners have a major advantage in the midfield, there is no doubt about that,” one of the commentators said. “Glencross and Pic are physical middies, and they like to get in your grill whenever possible. I just don’t think that the Senators have that mean-streak factor from their midfielders. Mekmek and Hoosten just aren’t like that. They’re finesse players who typically get beat up by more physical midfielders.”

“Even the return of Gayla Renhorn to that midfield corps isn’t enough to turn the tide back in Coruscant’s favor,” the other announcer added. “It’s going to be a tough job for the young Senator defense to try and deal with having that Miners standing in their zone for most of the game, so what the Senators need to do is what they did last week. Control time of possession, and they have a chance.”

Mekmek looked down from the screen, obviously hurt by the comments that the announcers were making. But, deep down, she knew they were true. She just wasn’t on par with Alana Glencross or Jolla Pic. A sure-fire Hall-of-Famer and a first-round pick suited up for the Miners . . . and here the Mon Calamari was only in her fourth Elite League game. Chorba Hoosten, her running mate with Thyferra the prior season, was only in her third ELL game coming in. They had no chance as it stood now.

“Hey, rookie. Don’t look so down,” Christine commented when she saw Mekmek get distraught. “You can take them this week. Glencross is a big softy, anyways.”

“You know that’s not true, Christine,” Reena said. “Glencross is . . .”

“Save it,” Christine replied, shutting the Hapan up. Her attention returned to the Mon Calamari. “Just play your game this week, and you’ll do fine. Ava says you were pretty good last year. I hope you can do the same this week when all the chips are down.”

“Thanks,” was all Mekmek said in reply.

“So, Christine, you going to be our sideline coach again this week?” Reena asked.

“I’ll do what I can,” Christine replied. “You know the coaching staff has their gameplan. I can only put in my two credits’ worth on these things.”

Then footsteps could be heard, and everyone turned around to see Adanna Inviere walk into the lounge. She had been a hell of a player during her career, Christine thought as she stared the interim GM down from her couch. Inviere had been one of her idols growing up, because she hit hard, but also played smart Limmie. There was a reason she had won two Galactic Cups in her time.

“Pamila, we need to talk,” the Hapan said.

“About what?” the Zeltron asked.

“Personnel moves. I think we need to have a little chat about our roster for this week.”

Pam shrugged and followed Inviere out of the room, leaving the three players behind.

“What was that all about?” Reena inquired.

“I don’t know. But I have a feeling that we’re getting more rookies on board,” Christine said.

---

Visitors’ Locker Room, Bakura

“All right team, listen up. We all know that this is going to be a huge game,” Pam said to the team as they huddled around right before going onto the field to start their regular season finale. “Win, and we’re in the postseason. Lose, and we’re out. The pundits have been talking all week about how weak we are, about how we’re so damn lucky to be in this position after starting 1-4. And then they cite our 0-4 road record. None of that is heartening, I can tell you now. It’s always about the negatives with some people.

But we have to power through. We’ve done enough to get this far, and to still have a postseason berth to play for. The Miners are a tough team. They cut us down to size last year, so now is the time that we return the favor. They may be bigger and tougher than we are, and certainly more injury-free, but we have a lot of talent as well. Maybe not in known commodities, but we still have talent. All of your rookies, you’re here because you proved your worth one way or another. You paid your dues in the minors, and now you have your chance to show the galaxy that you can play damn fine Limmie. If we win today, the whole galaxy will be talking about how a bunch of rookies helped push this team to the postseason. How many other teams can say that?

So what if the other two Solo playoff teams whipped us? Screw them. They have more experience, and haven’t seen a single injury all year. But we have guts. We want to get to the postseason to prove that those losses in the regular season were a fluke. That is our goal for this season. But first we need to get out of here with a win. And that’s going to be tricky. The Miners have struggled at home this year, but they always bring the thunder with them when they play us. So we have to stick that back in their face and make them run home kicking and screaming. This is their house, but this is our time.

We’re going to have to play a tight game today. The Miners can put up points faster than the Patriots can, so we need to prevent them from scoring goals. Keep them on the perimeter and taking potshots at the bar. We can live with giving up a few 1-point scores, but don’t let them get goals in bunches, because then we’re doomed. Midfielders, I need you to do as much as you can to keep Glencross and Pic from taking over the game. They are capable of that, so stand your ground and try to frustrate them as much as possible. They expect you to be shaking in your cleats when you step out there, but if you stand up and fight, they can’t ignore you. We need rocks at the midfielder position today; nothing else will work. Gayla, I need you to play heavy minutes today if anyone struggles.”

“Fine,” Gayla Renhorn said.

“And on offense, we need to exercise superb ball control. Win time of possession, and take pressure off the defense. Get the ball down low to Qorbus and Styles, but if they get double or triple-teamed, get it out to the wings. We have enough scorers to make something of this game, but only if we play smart and don’t turn it over. No flashy passes, no questionable decisions. We have to play an airtight offensive scheme if we want to get out of here with a win.

Now, you might be wondering who’s going to be leading the team this week. The front office has informed me that we have no preseason captains on the active roster at this point. That is a major detractor for what I wanted for this team going forward. However, I have been assured that everything is alright. They have a candidate who should suit our needs for this game.”

The door to the locker room opened, and everyone looked behind them. Alysha Romax’s blonde hair was unmistakable as she walked in clad in her road grays, the letter ‘C’ on her chest. She stopped behind the group of players, most of whom were looking at her. “Whoa,” Mekmek said.

“What the hell are you doing back here?” Gayla challenged. She had obviously not forgotten about the pregame scuffle that she and Romax had been involved in three weeks earlier that had gotten both of them suspended.

“The GM ended my suspension on account of need of someone with leadership experience,” Alysha said.

“You’ve got a lot of guts coming back here, after what you pulled,” Gayla said through gritted teeth.

“Look, I’m sorry about what happened,” Alysha said, holding up her hand to shut Gayla up. “I let my emotions get the best of me, and I let the team down. But when Adanna asked me to return to the team because they needed a former captain to take over, I knew it was the right thing to do.”

“Right thing for the team, or for you?” Gayla asked.

“Enough bickering,” Pam said. “We have a game to play today, and I don’t want a repeat of three weeks ago.” Some of the newer rookies were confused; what was the coach talking about? “So I want you two to save it for the field, because I’m going to need you two to play heavy minutes. You’re my starting two today. Prove me right in letting you two play.”

Alysha and Gayla shot each other evil glares for several seconds. Then Alysha turned to the rest of the team. “If you want to get to the playoffs, you’re going to have to trust me. I get it. I frakked up royally, and I paid for it. But that was then. This is now. We can’t keep living in the past. We have to get over that and make things happen now with what personnel we have. I’m not going to let the Miners walk all over me. I’m going to make them work for every cubit of field out there, make them have to struggle to get through screens, to make shots on goal, and to avoid tackles. Today, we are going to SHUT THEM DOWN. They said our season was finished, but it’s not. We still have one game left to prove anything and everything. This is a different team. You’ve won two of your last three games. That’s making progress. So we need to complete that journey by winning today. This is our game to lose, not theirs. If we go out there knowing that we have the upper hand, we will fight to keep it that way. Don’t be afraid; stand up to them, stand up and fight. The Miners can break if we exert enough pressure on them. But we all need to do our jobs. Contrary to what some of you believe, I’m ready to do my job, whatever is necessary. Whatever your role demands of you, do it flawlessly. We have a lot at stake here, people. You need to want it badly enough. I want it. Do you?”



The team seemed energized by this speech, Pam just looking content that she didn’t have to say any more to get the players fired up. Gayla still didn’t look happy as the line formed to leave the locker room and head out onto the field. Alysha shot her midfield partner a look. “We can kill each other when it’s over,” she commented. Then the two of them separated, Alysha going to the front of the line, and Gayla trying to be in the middle of the pack.

The walk down the tunnel was a long one, as Christine noted. The crutches made it hard to keep up with able-bodied players, but she did her best. She liked to think she was improving on her mobility with the devices. Sound was echoing through the tunnel. The Miner faithful were ready for this game, and were making their voices heard. They knew the stakes. The Senators knew the stakes.

Alysha led the Senator players on their walk. It was almost as if they walked in slow motion, like in a Holo film. Christine could almost hear the epic music playing as they went, the audience ready to see this team, once left for dead, play for that glorious playoff spot against possibly their biggest rivals on their turf. This was their proving ground, their chance to shine. It wasn’t going to have all the star power that this matchup normally had, but the two teams still had to play. The rookies were ready and willing to play hard to secure their roster spots for next season, and the veterans who had been here before knew what was on the line.

When the team ran onto the field, they could hear the boos rain down. It was expected in front of a hostile crowd to get this treatment. But they couldn’t let that affect them. They had a game to play. Alysha huddled everyone up. “Hit them hard, and keep control of the ball. Play tight defense, and loose offense. Make them come to you instead of you going to them. Ball control is key, and don’t lose your heads. We’ve got a long sixty minutes.”

Christine made her way over to the bench. She had become very accustomed to these during her injury, and she hated them. They were hard, and very unforgiving. Of course, playing Limmie wasn’t exactly a walk in the park either. She certainly hoped Alysha knew what she was doing. The Hapan had shown flashes of immaturity over the past two seasons, both of which hurt her image. Now she had one game to prove that those issues were behind her. She had something to prove. The rookies had everything to prove. The Senators had something to prove. This game was for all the marbles.


Alysha and Gayla settled in at midfield across from Glencross and Pic. Both veteran Senator middies knew that Coach Korthe might pull them at any moment for the rookies if they struggled. After all, Mekmek and Hoosten had gotten them this far, including the win last week where Gayla had come off the bench. One slip up, and the rookies might get a chance to play their line. Alysha just stared down Alana from across the midfield line, trying to give off as focused a glare as possible. “Game on, Glencross. Game on,” she muttered to herself as she flexed her fingers a few times.

TAG: Trieste

 

GM Post

It is nomination time for Elite League Limmie season awards. Awards are handed out to characters in game for the following categories:

• Player most valuable to his or her team (Salbukk Award)
• Rookie of the year (Ingbrand Award)
• Head coach of the year (Langann Award)
• General manager of the year (Grames Award)
• Sportsmanship and athletic excellence (Duchess Eldin Award)
• Perseverance and dedication to the sport of limmie (Zumtak Award)
• Comeback player of the year

Rules:

• You may nominate any character, including your own
• Please limit yourself to no more than three nominees per award
• Please send me your nominations by the end of the day, Sunday March 23
• Voting for nominees, selected by me using your input, will run March 24-April 6

TAG: Bardan_Jusik CPL_Macja jcgoble3 Jedi Gunny Runjedirun Tim Battershell Vehn

 

Big Board: Week Two


Augustina Dekula (Twi’lek, Female, Left Half Back, University of Ord Mantell)
Stat Line: 1 tackle, vs. University of Denon, L 5-36
Analysis: Horrible, horrible game for Dekula. She looked like she didn’t know what she was doing out there, and it hurt the entire defense. Shows that she has some things to work on in the pro game. Stock will drop if she has another bad game.

Sutton Millard (Human, Female, Corner Back, Atalanta University)
Stat Line: 8 tackles, 1 forced fumble, vs. University of Evenvale, W 13-12
Analysis: Good game from this prospect, who showed why he is a premier corner prospect in this year’s draft class. May have made it into third-round pick status in the mocks with this game, and could continue to rise if he tears it up at a combine.

Morganthow (Ryn, Male, Half Forward, Chandrila A&M)
Stat Line: 3 goals scored, 1 bar point scored, 7 shots on goal, 2 tackles, 1 forced fumble, 2 interceptions, 2 assists, vs. CAFA W 39-16
Stat Line: Coming-out party for Morganthow. Still projects as a bench option, but it shows that he can score and do all the little things when asked.

Dorvan Fiesta (Xexto, Male, Corner Forward, UB Gesco City)
Stat Line: 2 turnovers, vs. UBSD L 23-7
Analysis: No one for the Cubs did much of anything, but Fiesta struggled. How much this will affect his draft stock depends on how he does next week, but not even recording a shot on goal hurts him. Missed a few routes, and made questionable passes.

Patti Meter (Human, Female, Half Back, Citadel University of Anaxes)
Stat Line: 12 tackles, 2 forced fumbles, 1 interception, 1 bar point scored, vs. University of Kuat, W 24-20
Analysis: Showed why we like her so much as a prospect. Should be a first-round pick at the very least, if not higher. We think she deserves to be a top-three pick, but there are still lingering concerns about small facets of her game.


Lyle Kent (Human, Male, Coruscant Polytechnic Institute, Goalkeeper)
Stat Line: 10 saves, 10 PA, vs. College of Fondordelphia, W 21-10
Analysis: Good bounce-back game for the goalie prospect after last week’s debacle. It was enough of a performance to push the Mean Green into the Division playoffs as the number 4 seed.

 

IC: Falene Trieste
Royal Limmie Grounds, Hapes

Falene whooped as she came back into the visitor’s locker room.

It was a game for pride, but that didn’t make it any less sweet to win. The Hapan defense had been shredded up the middle by Rodders and Deenever. The Miners had romped all over the C-Bucs end of the field for a nifty 36 point day, a lesson in Miners power offense limmie.

Sure, the C-Bucs had gotten their points in so it hadn’t been a perfect day for Falene—far from it. Wai Lin was Falene’s coverage and the cagey veteran had taken advantage of the third year back several times during the game.

But the offense had held for a classic Bakura-style win. Who cared if the C-Bucs put up 19 on them? When the offense hummed along with 36 points, it didn’t much matter.

Falene high fived Niskat, who had returned to form with 9 of the Miners’ points that day. She’d bottled up in their recent games.

“Way to go Kat,” Falene said.

“Nice work yourself,” Niskat said, clapping Falene on the back.

“Hey! You let in 19 today,” Alana barked. Really? The captain was going to get on her for that after a win? “You need to hold that down, Fae. I wanted my point differential to jump by at least 20 today.” Alana grinned, finally betraying the fact she was just giving the junior player Sithspit for the game.

“Sure, sure,” Falene said.

Before the ribbing could go further, Valerii came into the locker room clapping. “That’s the way to play some Miners limmie. Way to go everyone,” the head coach said, “Stellar job. Stellar. I’m proud of how you played when nothing was on the line today. That shows character.”

The head coach had told them before tipoff to have fun and that’s what they’d done. It had been a fun game—and that was putting it mildly. Falene wished every game was like that one. It was a game where the Miners had been able to show off their skill and take advantage of the Bucs at every turn.

The locker room door opened once more and a surprising figure walked through. Thankfully, it wasn’t Falene’s mother. When Falene had left, she seemed happy enough watching Irsine Chume wear the miner’s helmet that appeared to be a standing bet between the owners of the two teams (though Falene doubted the price was far from high for her mother—wearing her mother’s pirate hat after a Miner loss was no hardship).

This visitor was Quinn Cundertol. Like the owner, the GM almost never came into the locker room after a game.

“Yes, brilliant. Absolutely brilliant,” Cundertol said, “That’s just what we needed.”

“And here I thought you’d be mad we’re tanking your draft position,” Valerii said wryly.

Cundertol looked at the head coach and furrowed his brow. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” Alana asked.

He went over to the interactive vidscreen in the locker room and brought up the Elite League’s official Solo Conference standings.

1. Ralltiir Starkillers (5-3, conf. 4-0)
2. Rydonni Prime Monarchs (4-4, conf. 2-2)
3. Bakura Miners (4-4, conf. 1-3)
4. Coruscant Senators (3-5, conf. 2-2)
5. Chandrila Patriots (3-5, conf. 2-2)
6. Hapes Consortium Buccaneers (3-5, conf. 1-3)

“Gentlebeings, we control our own destiny,” Cundertol said to the locker room.

“Are you kidding me?” Morlan exploded, “We went out there and played for kicks when we were really playing for playoff contention?!”

“I don’t care how you played—you’re there now,” Cundertol said, “and you need to do it again.” He circled the three and four teams in the Solo Conference standings. “It is time to do or die, gentlebeings.”

---

Kilmainham Brook, Prytis, Bakura
After the conclusion of the ELL season

“Does Mom know we’re here?” Declan asked.

“Probably. She knew I was here but hasn’t seen me yet,” Falene said.

“Does your mother often hold family meetings late at night without explanation and keep people waiting?” Ayn asked as she wandered around the Great Room looking at the portraits.

“Not with either of us,” Declan said, “Politicians…who knows. As a kid she didn’t tell us about the inner workings of the West Office.”

Ayn stopped in front of a large painting and smiled. “Well, I’ll be damned. There’s a second one,” she said. Falene turned to see which one her sister in-law was looking at and then suddenly understood. “The Great Reconciliation by Menka Varik,” Ayn said, “And here I thought the only copy was in Marian Square after my Mom used Prime Ministerial privilege to snatch it from the National Gallery.”

“It was a professional courtesy,” Falene said.

The painting was something else. The artist had not been present for the moment it captured, but recreated it from holos with some artistic license. It was of Falene and her family. Standing tall and proud was a young Kerry Trieste, with not a hint of gray hair in her flaming orange hair. Her smile absolutely beamed as she looked at something outside the frame of the picture. Next to her was her husband with his dark locks, a simple smile crossing his lips. One imagined from his stance that he had his hand on the small of his wife’s back. In front of Kerry was Declan, a young boy nearing adolescence, excited to be in the swirl of a pivotal moment in history. Next to him and just behind his shoulder was an even younger Falene, her eyes glistening in the bright afternoon sun.

She had been young, but that afternoon had not faded from Falene’s mind…

---

Nouvelle Orleans, Bakura
260 ABY



A nine year old Falene Trieste looked out at the crowd that packed the central square of Nouvelle Orleans. She believed then that the entire city had come out to greet her mother in those early days when the Civil War was over. It would not be for some years that she would learn many citizens still resented the Prime Minister.

But today the golden afternoon made everything beautiful, especially her mother. The sun streamed from behind Kerry, illuminating her fiery red hair in such a way it almost seemed like she had a halo as she smiled at the crowd. The bells of a church fronting the square rang, heralding peace on earth. Falene watched as her mother gave a speech that would resonate throughout the history of Bakura.

“My fellow Bakurans,” Kerry said, finally quieting the crowd, “It is with great relief that I am able to say today that our national tragedy is now over.”

This only prompted another outburst of celebration. Some people even threw confetti in the crowd.

“Today we are not Federals or Maples. We are Bakurans. Though this fact seems self-evident, we must remember that after four years of strife and turmoil that unity will not come easily. We must now put aside that which has passed and turn our hearts and our minds to rebuilding not just the physical structures that were destroyed by this war, but the bonds that bind us together as Bakurans.

“There shall be no victory parades. There shall be no division of the spoils of war. There will only be brothers and sisters joining hands to rebuild that which has been ravaged, to create a society where all may have the opportunity to prosper through the work of their hands and minds.”

It was then that Kerry was almost possessed by a fervor greater than anything she had ever shown during the war. It was almost as if her halo of light imparted to her some divine gift. For a moment, Falene thought her mother looked like one of the angels of Iego.

“We must come together, one and all, in the spirit of charity and forgiveness,” Kerry said, speaking from her heart and not her notes, “It is time to start the journey a day beyond the enmity and pain of war. Let our shouts of joy at peace not drown out our prayers of thanksgiving that we have lived to see this day and our petitions that through forgiveness, charity, mercy, and brotherhood we may expiate the sins we accumulated in this terrible.

“And to anyone who would say that the vision is too bold, too daring I say that you don’t know Bakura. We are the city on a hill, a people chosen for a great destiny. You cannot snuff out the light of hope, decency, and generosity that shines within us!

“My fellow Bakurans, the great work of peace begins now!”

On that note, the crowd went wild again, transported by the message of hope and prosperity that Kerry Trieste had brought to a city that might still be standing, but had been ravaged just as much by war as any other. Kerry bent down to give her children a kiss on the forehead. When she came to Falene, her daughter looked at her mother and said, “Maker bless us, every one!”

The thought struck Kerry in a most wonderful fashion. “Yes indeed. Maker bless us, every one!” Kerry said as she hugged her daughter.

---

Bakura Gardens, Salis D’aar, Bakura
Week 9, Truce Day Game
The head coach had written just one sentence on the board in the Miners’ locker room. It had been there when Falene walked in and it was there still.

WELCOME TO THE SOLO CONFERENCE QUARTERFINAL

Nothing more needed to be said. This might be the regular season, but it was just as much a playoff game as if the Miners were playing next week. If they won, there was a chance that they’d play a real playoff game at the Gardens. A win today and a loss by the Monarchs would put the Miners into the number two spot. Given where the Miners had been just one week ago at game time, it was unthinkable.

The mood during the warm up had already been electric. The galleries of the Gardens were draped in blue and gold bunting. The drapery was only brought out for Truce Day and playoff games. Falene had seen it once before from the field during the Solo Conference Championship Game.

This was different. There was something else in the air. It was Truce Day. It was a playoff berth on the line to the winner. It was Coruscant.

Falene knew she was tense during the warmup. This game was big. Too big for words, in fact. You just felt it in your shoulders and your neck. You felt it in the way that you passed too hard, your reactions were just a little stiff. Falene had played big games before. Carnation Bowl. Galactic College Final. Galactic Cup Final. She should be used to it.

There must have been something in her demeanor that caught the captain’s attention. “You never get used to it,” Alana said, replying to the unspoken question.

Now, the quiet in the home locker room was louder than the crowd noise that they would explode into very shortly. It was pounding its way into their skulls. The entrance of the head coach and her muffled steps on the dark blue carpet were welcome.

“Not everyone in this room has ever played a Truce Day Game,” Valerii began, “This game is about Bakura. It is about one of the darkest moments in our planet’s history. It is when we looked a future of slavery in the face.

“It is the moment when this planet realized what it could do.

“Truce Day is about Bakura, but what it’s really about is standing on the precipice. The wind blows and you rock back and forth. Shifting your balance even slightly can put you over the edge. Your footing is not solid.

“On your own you will go over the edge. As a team you will draw strength in each other. No matter which way the wind blows, no matter which way we go, we go together.

“Today, we go together.”

---

To facilitate the postgame fireworks, today’s game began in the waning hours of the afternoon. Already the sky was beginning to turn to vivid colors that were in stark contrast to the verdant field. It found a mirror in pockets of the stands where orange and black clustered together. The floodlights that lit the field dimmed and the giant vidscreens in the stadium came to life. It showed vintage footage from the Holonet, familiar to anyone who had any interest in Bakuran politics.

“In our darkest hour, so lately passed, we cried out in the darkness,” Prime Minister Gaeriel Captison said from the steps of the Bakuran Senate Building, just days after the Ssi-Ruuk were defeated in the space above the world, “In that moment, when all was bleak, the inherent goodness of the galaxy was affirmed. In that moment, our faith was rewarded. We did not allow ourselves to be saved.

“In that moment, Bakura stood together and we fought for everything we held dear.

“And, with the galaxy watching, we proved our mettle.”

The footage of Captison faded out to cheers. It was replaced with footage of another Prime Minister of days past—but not too many days gone by. “[INSERT KERRY]”

Falene heard it all from the tunnel leading to the field. The Miners waited just under the overhang to enter the field. As the clip of her mother faded out, the Miners walked onto the field and laid themselves out in a single line. The crowd was pretty nicely whipped up. When the lights came up again and the crowd saw the Miners, arms linked together and now running across the field towards their own sidelines they went predictably nuts. Arrayed in their deep, dark blue home uniforms the Miners looked the personification of Bakuran nationalism. They looked like a team with a date with destiny. For all of her pregame worries, Falene felt like a team that was ready to win, buoyed as she was on the wave of support swelling in the stands.

There was just one problem.



On the other side of the field stood a young Senators squad, one that had upset their historic nemeses the week before. The Miners had returned much of their championship squad from last season. While on flimsi the Miners had the edge, Falene ripped that flimsi to shreds in her mind. They had Pam Korthe. The Zeltron had too many tricks up her sleeves. If anyone was going to be able to turn those rooks into winners, it was her.

Falene scanned the Senators team entering the field. With so many new faces, Valerii and Hulu had gone over the Senators’ lineup several times to ensure that the Miners knew who was who. It was too easy to get confused out there and miss your assignments. Sure, it was easy to keep Qorbus identified with his tendrils, but some of the others blurred. Falene realized that there was an unexpected face in the Senators’ starters.

“Romax is back,” Falene called over the crowd noise to Pic and Glencross.

Alana arched an eyebrow. “If they’re bringing her back after what the Coruscanti media reported, then they really want a win,” Alana called back. She looked to the Senators sideline. Falene knew this would change things for the midfield. Romax was a known commodity, which would make her slightly easier to cover (you never knew what a rook was going to do since they often didn’t know better), but she was also one of the standout athletes for the Senators. Alysha’s presence was going to make things a bit more difficult.

Alana got the attention of the head coach and indicated the switch in Senators’ starting lineup. Valerii gathered everyone together for final words. “We all knew that Korthe was going to have some surprises for us and here’s the first one,” Valerii said, “We’re going to see deep passing from them today at midfield. They’re going to try to pass over the half backs and get the bolo-ball deep. Stick to the game plan and force them to make those high passes. They won’t have much time down low to get set. Let’s get some quick scores in here to keep the crowd in. We’re going to ride them to a victory today.”

Truce Day always featured a tribute to members of the armed services and this one was no different. It was the first Miners Truce Day game since the end of the Ssi-Ruuk War and appropriately several Marines who had seen action were honored on the field with a standing ovation. They had been chosen at random rather than for special decoration. All of them were enlisted, not officers. They had truly seen the brunt of the fighting. Falene clapped for them with her teammates and took the opportunity to shake their hands as they left the field.

An entirely different war was about to begin. It was a war that would decide what team was sitting on their couches in a week and what team would have grass beneath their cleats. This game would be a dejarik game between two head coaches who had entered the Elite League in the same year. The teams could not have been more different: one filled with Galactic Cup champion veterans, the other full of rookies.

Falene, in position for the start of the game, rubbed her thumbs against her fingers. She was ready for the ball, ready for this game to begin. It was time to stop talking and start winning.

TAG: Jedi Gunny

 

IC: Wilrax Tunran IV
Location: Owner's office, Euceron Stadium, Eusebus, Euceron
Time: Week 8 game at Ylesia

Wilrax and Aebatt leaned back and watched as the game got underway. The Storm jumped out to a quick 4–0 lead on a goal and point by Yan'ii, and settled in from there. During the first commercial break, Aebatt turned to Wilrax. “So this history thing of yours is rubbing off on me,” she said. “I've been trying to piece together what happened to the Storm in the early 240s, with the firing of Skylis Krasyn and the playoff bans, but there's conflicting stories out there, and I was too young to remember it myself. Do you remember what happened?”

Wilrax sat back and thought for a moment Krasyn had been the head coach of the Storm for nearly ten years when he was fired in 241. “You know, there are indeed multiple versions of that story. Even my own family couldn't agree on what happened.”

“Really? Can you explain what happened and tell me what the truth is?”

“The truth? I doubt anybody will ever know the truth. But I can explain all sides of the story, though that would be best saved for halftime.”

“Alright.”

The rest of the first half was dominated by defensive play, with only the Storm being able to get decent shots on goal, scoring a total of 11 points. Ylesia, meanwhile, was held to zero, as the Storm rapidly switched between formations, even employing different formations on offense and defense at the same time, to confuse the Lightning.

As HSN began its halftime show, Wilrax reached for the remote and muted it to allow easier discussion. He took a deep breath before beginning. “So you want to know about Krasyn's firing. The story goes back a couple of years before that. After the 239 season, the Storm made a major coup by landing several star players in free agency. Most were signed to one-year contracts. The next year, we dominated the Premier League with an 8–1 record and rolled all the way to the title. Early the next season, though, some of the media alleged that we had gotten those star players unfairly—that we had tampered with them while they were still under contract with other teams. Krasyn and my grandfather denied this, but the allegations persisted throughout the season, and Premier League officials opened an investigation into the matter. We played the rest of the season under a cloud of suspicion. Even without those stars, we were able to fight our way back to the Final in 241.”

Wilrax took a moment to decide how to proceed. “Now that's just the appetizer to this story. Here's the main course. Two days before the Final, an anonymous source within the Storm told HSN that Krasyn had illegally recorded footage of other teams' practices, including that of our opponents earlier that day, using spy droids. Krasyn again denied the charges, but my grandfather would have none of that: he fired Krasyn the next day, without waiting for an investigation. I'm guessing this is where you're running into conflicting stories.”

“Yeah,” said Aebatt. “There are at least a dozen different theories on who the source was, why they came forward, and even whether the charge was true.”

“Oh, there's more than that. Everybody and their mother have their own pet theories, but most of them can be dismissed right away for pure absurdity. I prefer to focus on the three main theories that originated within the Storm. The first comes from general manager Wilkef Andin; he claimed that the source was benchwarmer Noki Demona. Next, you have my grandfather's own theory that the charge came from half back coach Snivo Hyku. Finally, team captain Kyrenic Azalee maintained that it was my grandfather himself.”

“That would make sense with the quick firing. Who do you think it was?”

“I prefer not to speculate, which is really all that can be done at this point.”

“Did any of them have a possible motive for accusing Krasyn?”

“As a matter of fact, all three did. Demona had been continually frustrated with his lack of playing time, Hyku had publicly complained about being micromanaged a couple weeks earlier, and Grandpa just plain never got along with Kraysn.”

“So Azalet, or whatever his name was, thinks he just pounced on a convenient excuse to get rid of him?”

“Essentially, yeah. Anyway, without Kraysn's leadership, the Storm lost badly in the Final the next day. Krasyn was angry at the termination, enough so that he filed a lawsuit the following week for slander, naming all three alleged sources—Demona, Hyku, and Grandpa—as defendants. That case dragged on for almost a year. Eventually, it went to trial; he proved to the jury that the charge was false, but he couldn't get any damages because he couldn't prove who the source was. The jury ruled that without proof of who was responsible, no damages could be awarded. So he proved that he was slandered, but lost the case anyway.”

“Ouch. What happened to him after that?”

“After the court case was over, he eventually found a job with another Premier League team. He later sued HSN for running the false story, and they settled out of court before trial.”

“Interesting. Do you think that the truth will ever be known?”

“No,” declared Wilrax. “I firmly believe that those who know for certain who the source is will take that secret to their grave, if they haven't already.”

“How did this result in a playoff ban?”

“Oh, that. While the first slander lawsuit was dragging on, Grandpa was being pressured from all sides to do something about the two alleged violations. Three months before the season, he self-imposed a one-year playoff ban on the team. The following week, the League added three years of probation. The playoff ban affected the 242 season; we went 7–2 and won the Mid Rim Conference title. But that was it.”

“I remember a longer playoff ban from my early childhood. What happened to cause that?”

“Well, the first playoff ban was over, but we were still on probation through 244. We didn't get through that before we encountered more problems. One week before the 243 season started, we were accused of running a bounty program for causing injuries. Both the League and the team opened their own investigations into the matter, but they never finished. Four weeks into the season, Vucora Sartori, the defensive coordinator, called a press conference and confessed to the bounty program.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. We still don't know what prompted him to confess, but he did. Anyway, he resigned at that press conference, but if he was looking to do damage to the team, it was done. The Premier League brought the hammer down on us with a three-year playoff ban. Since the 243 season was already underway, the ban didn't take effect until 244. That enabled us to make a run to the semifinals in 243, but we began losing stars to free agency right away, and we couldn't sign decent replacements. Nobody wanted to play for a team that couldn't go to the playoffs until 247. Our records tumbled from one season to the next until we went winless in 246, the last year of the playoff ban. Grandpa fired the head coach after that season. The next three years weren't much better, as we basically had to rebuild from scratch. We didn't make the playoffs any of those three years, and after a 1–8 finish in 249. Grandpa cleaned house, firing both the new coach and Andin, the GM.”

“And that led to hiring Marte.”

“Bingo.”

Aebatt started to ask something else, but her comlink buzzed. She answered, listened for a moment, and hung up. “I've gotta go. Got a family emergency. Thanks for the story.” She hustled out the door, leaving Wilrax by himself.

Wilrax casually watched the rest of the game. The Storm went unbalanced for the second half, overloading the defensive end to prevent the Lightning from scoring. It worked to perfection, as the Storm racked up a 15–0 lead before the scrubs were put in. The scrubs gave up the shutout, letting in a goal, but it was still a fine 15–3 win to clinch a playoff berth. Wilrax was happy.

TAG: Nobody

 

​

Mando'ade Mercs injury report (Week 9 at Ylesia)

Jonathan "Johnny Limmie" Lieznam, (Human male) Full forward. Questionable, (ribcage)

 

IC: Jacen Hunter
Construction site, near Keldabe, Mandalore

"C'mon, hurry up aruetii!" Jacen clenched his teeth at the admonishment, he was going as fast as he could trying to keep up with Ris'kah, but couldn't. He never did anything quite as well as she could, though he tried his best. His mother said it was important to always do your best and if you did you could hold your head up high. Seeing Ris'kah slow down and stop up ahead to allow him to catch up though didn't feel him with pride. Grasping at the stitch in his side he slowed down and walked the rest of the way to where she was standing, waiting for him.

"You need to get in better shape aruetii." He would have responded but he doubted he could get a word in through hos wheezing. "I'm weighed down by all this," she gestured at her armor, "and yet I still run faster than you." She shook her head at him. Finally catching his breath all he could manage was a brief, "Well at least we are here now." She nodded in reply, "let's look, but don't do anything stupid. I don;t want us to get caught."

"Here" was one of nearly a dozen new construction site's that had popped up outside Keldabe following the announcement that the Galactic Cup Finals would be held on Mandalore this season. The last time it had happened the Mando'ade had put on a display of Mandalorian lifestyle, complete with military bivouacs for the huge numbers of visiting press and dignitaries to occupy. It was something that Jacen was sure the non-Mandalorians had not really enjoyed, and he was sure the Mandalorians were still laughing about that. this time however, the Mandos were going all out, hiring a large number of off world construction firms to build up the hotels, eateries and other infrastructure necessary to give visiting off worlders a bit more comfort. They seemed to be taking hosting such an event a bit more seriously this time. Of course it was all they had to look forward to after their season had for all intents and purposes come to an end on Nar Shaddaa.

The hated Smugglers had dropped the Mercs from playoff contention with one game left to go on the season. Now all the Mercs had to play for was their own pride (of which they still had plenty of) and the goal of not finishing 4-5 for the third straight season. Rumor was that changes might be coming to the front office or coaching staff if that were to happen. Of course it didn't help their cause that they were calling rookie sensation Johnny Limmie questionable for the final game of the season with some sort of rib injury.

Jacen frowned at the thought. The rookie forward hadn't seemed the same after that vicious hit, and the Mercs who had been in the game up until that point saw their post season hopes flushed away as Lieznam seemed to shy away from contact for the rest of the match. It saddened Jacen to know that once again "his" team would be sitting out the playoffs, but they had done their best. His mom would say they could at least hold their heads up with pride. Jacen didn't think they would take much consolation in that.

"Where's your head at? C'mon...this is wizard." Jacen came back to the moment and smiled. it was so unuasal to see Ris'kah so excited about things. She normally adopted that been there done that kind of attitude, even though she was just a kid like he was. But he knew that there usually wasn't a lot of new construction going on on Mandalore, especially nothing of this scale. It was bound to excite anyone.

They had come after dusk of course, after the workers (a mish mash of various species all working for the Toydarian company who had won the bid for this job) had gone home to their own temporary shelters for the evening. They explored the equipment, repulsorlift diggers and permacrete pourers, even a big rig speeder truck with a trailer full of steel girders waiting to be off loaded. But the most fun thing of all was to run through the halls and corridors of the still unfinished hotel building.

Actually to call it unfinished (or a building) was to be overly generous. All that existed was the internal framework, looking to the kids more like a skeleton of some giant beat rising into the air. The "hallways" had no flooring, just pieces of metal or even wood where the workers could traverse as they set the internal structure of the building. Still the kids ran along this without a care in the world, climbing higher and higher, they wanted to reach the top and look out over Keldabe from the lofty vantage point at the top of this work in progress.

It was a sight that neither of them would get to see. As Ris'kah (who was out in front as always) skipped over a sheet of loose planking she dislodged it from its anchoring point. Jacen, running as fast as he dared in an effort to keep up, caught his left foot on the "lip" of the plank which pushed it completely off of the buildings framework. It sailed off and fluttered to the ground. Jacen of course had no idea that he had just kicked his chosen path off into oblivion and kept going. Even if he had, he wouldn;t have had time to stop. His first inclination that something was wrong came when his right foot came down on...nothing. and kept going on through that nothing. The rest of his body followed suit, and before he could realize what was happening he was falling.

He reached out, desperate to catch himself and was relieved for a moment when before he could even fall a meter he got hold of a support girder. "Ris'kah!" he cried out. "Help me!!!" He could just make it out in the darkness as she stopped and turned around suddenly, he could only imagine the look of horror on her face as she started to sprint towards him. "I'm slipppppppping!!!!!" he shouted in terror as his grip began to give way. She reached out for him just as that grip lost it's battle. Her gloved hands brushed against his, but it was too late and he fell, freely this time, the 20 meters to the ground below hitting it with a loud, wet *thwack*...

TAG: No one.

 

IC: Kaitlyn Vehn
Visitors Locker Room, Agamar



“Good to see you, Miss Vehn,” Erin Windreaver said with a shake of the hand.

“Miss Vehn,” Mylessa McCloud said with a confident smile.

“Glad to be here, boss,” Jayla Leed said as she made her way into the visiting locker room.

Everyone was suited up for the final regular season game against Agamar. The attitude all season long had been one game at a time. Take them as they come. Learn from them. Play hard, fight hard, and the rest will take care of itself. So far, so good. The team had put up a seven win season and held a thin lead in the Skywalker Conference. Now they needed to cement their playoff spot with a win against Agamar.

“Gather around,” Tover said as he took a knee: the team forming a circle around him.

The old veteran had something to say and Kaitlyn could feel it coursing in his bones. Say it, old man, just spill your guts. Share your wisdom. Make us strong and keep us focused.

“Some people say that I’m ancient. That I’m past my prime. That I should’ve stayed retired,” Tover began drawing a few laughs from the younger players, “and maybe I should have. Maybe I should have let the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers rot in mediocrity for the rest of this franchises existence. But I couldn’t do that and I stand before you today as a leader of one of the best teams in the league. For those of you who have been here for awhile I know it took us a couple years but championships and contenders aren’t built overnight. What we have built this season is pretty frakking incredible. I see us going all the way if we continue to play Limmie the way we know how.

“Now I ask that we seal the deal with a solid win against Agamar. They’re a scrappy team. They aren’t going to play dead for anyone. I’m not going to pull the starters like so many would want me to do. I want you guys in there for the full time. I believe in you. Go, bring me a win.”

“So it is said, so it shall be done,” Mylessa McCloud yelled.

“So it is said, so it shall be done!” The team roared as they clapped hands and headed out of the visitors tunnel into the bright lights of Agamar.

Kaitlyn followed them out the tunnel feeling satisfied with the team, the staff, and the entire franchise she had rebuilt from the ground up. She’d been heavily criticized by the media for funding a new Six Boroughs stadium. She’d even been given some flak for designing new uniforms that broke the traditions of the past. People had berated her for assembling nearly an all-human team in what some were saying mirrored the policies of High-Human culture. Critics be damned. They were winning now and they would all be silenced as soon as she could hold that Galactic Cup above her head and proclaim to the galaxy, to all her detractors, that her franchise was hers to do with as she pleased. Yes, she could almost feel the weight of that silver chalice, the millions of pieces of confetti, the champagne drenching her body, the exuberance of the greatest victory of them all.

One game at a time, Kaitlyn, she reminded herself, one game at a time.

Let the battle begin.

Tag:Tim Battershell

 

GM Post
Limmie Hall of Fame, Empress Teta

It was that highest, holiest day of the limmie galaxy. Not the Elite League part—that was the Galactic Cup Final. No, for the quadrillions of beings who loved the sport of limmie, there was one day that was even greater.

The announcement of new inductees to the Limmie Hall of Fame.

As usual, there were fans, largely from the Core, who gathered for the announcement ceremony, held outside the modern-looking Hall. An aged Thakwaash had the honor this year.

“Gentlebeings, the Limmie Hall of Fame has concluded its voting for the 276 ABY Hall of Fame class,” the Thakwaash intoned from the podium, “These votes have been tabulated and audited by independent, third-party accountants to ensure their accuracy and integrity. The report of the firm will be made available to the public upon conclusion of today’s announcement.

“The Limmie Hall of Fame will welcome one new member in 276.”

Only one new member? Usually the Hall took at least a couple players at one time. Who would be the lucky one to be lifted to the olympian circle of greatness?

“This year’s inductee began his involvement with the sport of limmie 16 years ago. He was the unlikeliest of beings to become the general manager of a limmie team—”

And that was when most of the fans knew. Black and orange-clad fans suddenly started cheering.

“In his first season he took a great, but declining franchise and immediately restored it to glory by winning the Galactic Cup of Limmie. He would repeat this accomplishment six seasons later as he brought together one of the greatest groups of players seen in recent memory in the Elite League, one of whom has already been inducted into the Hall of Fame. Under his guidance, the Coruscant Senators would participate in six Galactic Cup Finals in 12 seasons. To date, they have missed the playoffs only twice under his guidance. He has contributed to the development of the sport of limmie by being an active proponent of the Limmie Futures League.

“The Limmie Hall of Fame is pleased to welcome Gark S’rily as its newest member,” the Thakwaash said with a smile.


TAG: Bardan_Jusik CPL_Macja jcgoble3 Jedi Gunny Runjedirun Tim Battershell Vehn

 

GM Post

What We Learned

It’s shaping up to be an explosive final week in the Solo Conference. Though the Skywalker Conference has their playoff teams locked up, the Commissioner’s Trophy is still up for grabs. After Bakura’s performance last year, one of the two teams in the running for it might just want it this time.

Agamar Packers: This was Packers’ second shutout in three seasons. When you consider that the defending champions have only two shutouts in sixteen years, it’s pretty shocking that the Packers haven’t been to the playoffs yet.

Bakura Miners: More teams need to have their planetary patriotic holidays coincide with limmie games. Elite League scheduler: we will hunt you down if you put the Miners on the road to end the season again. We want fireworks.

Chandrila Patriots: If Chandrila wins this week, we really want to hear Kether’s justification of how her -24 point differential team “deserves” to be in the Semifinal.

Coruscant Senators: Speaking of fireworks on Bakura, Coruscant is going to blow it up and improbably make the playoffs or they’re just going to plain blow up. Either way, it’s going to look spectacular.

Euceron Storm: What is the sound of one hand clapping? Well, it’ll sound like the Storm playing limmie this week because they have literally nothing to play for with a road Semifinal game in their future.

Hapes Consortium Buccaneers: Hapes is a very classy organization. They’re letting Moira Mallory finish out the season as head coach before they inevitably drag her into an alley behind the Royal Limmie Grounds and let the Queen Mother’s pet vornskrs tear her to pieces. Seriously though—if you’re the only Solo Conference team who doesn’t have a shot at the playoffs this week, you deserve to be fired.

Mando’ade Mercs: If the mountain will not come to Yoda, then Yoda will go to the mountain. Except Yoda is the Galactic Cup Final and the mountain is the Mercs.

Nar Shaddaa Smugglers: Controlling their own destiny for the Commissioner’s Trophy is everything this franchise could have wanted right now. Well, no, that’s not true. There could be a chocolate fountain in the owner’s box at Six Boroughs. But that’s literally the only improvement you could make the Smugglers organization right now.

Ralltiir Starkillers: With a guaranteed week off for the Semifinal, does Trey Till let his stars rest for two straight weeks or does he put his foot on the accelerator? Luckily, that question will be answered in the first 10 seconds of their game against the C-Bucs so you can quickly switch the channel to something else more interesting, like that channel that has baby Cathars playing with balls of yarn. We watch that for at least half the day in the office.

Rydonni Prime Monarchs: Before you feel bad for Setarcos and company, just remember that they would have killed to be in this position in the last couple seasons. Actually, has anyone checked the limmie gods altar to make sure that they didn’t do that?

Ylesia Lightning: How many times do we have to tell the other 14 players on the Lightning: you are expected to do stuff on the pitch. Kasin will not do every little thing for you. She might be the messiah, but that doesn’t mean you can sip cocktails on the field while idly commenting, “I say, this Antilles Formation is interesting, wouldn’t you say old sport? Har har, let’s go have a massage now at the club.”

And yes, we realized when we got to the end of this article that we forgot to write about the Corellia Rebels. That should tell you everything.

TAG: Bardan_Jusik CPL_Macja jcgoble3 Jedi Gunny Runjedirun Tim Battershell Vehn

 

OOC: Because someone said the suspense was killing them…

GM Post
The Shores, Watercrest County, Bakura

Fionn Trieste had a penchant for buying good anniversary gifts. One year he gave his wife a 107 foot yacht, sensing she was going through “ship withdrawals” from her pirating years. In homage to her previous commands (the Red Wench and the Wicked Wench), the cruiser was christened the Respectable Wench.

Of course, once he’d given her a boat (which Fionn always called it despite the fact her was verbally berated by his wife over the fact that it was a “ship”), Fionn had been forced to give his wife a beach house too. It was officially known as The Shores, but no one in the Noble House called it that. Instead they just called it the Beach House. Located on the somewhat less rainy and generally sunnier shores of Watercrest County with Cape Suzette a comfortable journey away, Kerry Trieste had retreated to the Beach House for these early post-Chancellor days.

The Beach House had enough privacy for her needs. She could have done her work from Kilmainham Brook in Prytis, but if she had visitors there they would be noticed. Very few beings cared to keep an eye on the Triestes’ coastal retreat. Besides, it had a nice view too. Unbeknownst to the public, Kerry Trieste was keeping quite busy on the shore.

She was counting.

Kerry had spent most of her life in the executive and had never held the duties of Deputy Whip for her party in the Senate, but she knew how to count votes and that’s exactly what she was doing now. She’d been laying the groundwork for years, gradually building up credit, doing favors. They were being called in now.

“…yes, I look forward to seeing you at the Board meeting too…yes. Of course….take care,” Kerry said, ending her holo conference.

She was doing all of her math by hand in a flimsi notebook. She’d considered setting up a vidscreen or a board, but she could burn the notebook if she had to. It was harder to leave no digital trace of one’s work on short notice.

Kerry had just finished speaking with the chairwoman of the Patriots. Kerry had been cultivating her acquaintance for some time now. In reminding her of the historic bonds between the Miners and the Patriots, Kerry had secured the Patriot vote at the Board of Governors. In ink, Kerry wrote in her utilitarian script, “Chandrila” under the header “For.” Heading the list was Bakura and beneath that, Hapes. Kerry had sat with Irsine Chume during last week’s game explicitly to secure her vote for the upcoming Board meeting and she’d succeeded.

Kerry had two more calls to make. The first would be to Corellia, who was understandably on edge after a 1-7 season that might go as low as 1-8. If Kerry offered to put the might of the Miners in the way of any effort to demote the Rebels, it would earn a lot of return loyalty. The second would be to Ylesia. Kerry had never met a Hutt who wasn’t willing to do a deal. If her years of public service had taught her anything, it was how to make a deal.

If she could bring both of those teams into the fold, she’d have five. All Kerry would have to do then would be to find two more teams.

Agamar. Possible. She had good relations with Tim Dodd…but those could end if she asked for his vote openly on this.

Coruscant. Doubtful. Especially if the Miners won this Truce Day.

Euceron. Maybe. Wilrax was old, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t feisty.

Nar Shaddaa. Kerry liked her chances. Kaitlyn had her head on straight and she didn’t like the Bothan.

Ralltiir. Kerry didn’t know. Martin Vigo was an unknown right now. So new to the game. New blood was unpredictable.

Rydonni Prime. The K’ntarrs had an independent streak to them that reared itself from time to time. They wouldn’t take kindly being told what to do. Kerry would need them to want to vote with her without her asking.

And then there was Mando’ade….She never knew what Taab was going to do. He certainly didn’t like Kayl’hen and would welcome the change. But the vote wouldn’t be on Kayl’hen. It would be on the next Commissioner. She had good relations with the Mandalorian. And if those failed…well…there was always his honor.

Kerry Trieste looked at the waves. She would get to seven, one way or another, sure as the waves crashed on the beach.

“Mrs. Trieste,” a droid said, “The shuttle for the Academy is ready.”

“Yes, thank you,” Kerry said. She’d nearly forgotten. She had a meeting arranged by her sister Fiona. She needed to refocus herself. This was the first of several meetings she would be taking, all arranged by members of the Noble House. Ronan, Regan, Nessa, and even Falene had all set them for her. They all had their own reasons (Regan’s was pure self-interest, which Kerry had been counting on), but they were all meetings that Kerry needed.

After years of planning, things were in motion. It was time for action.

TAG: Bardan_Jusik CPL_Macja jcgoble3 Jedi Gunny Runjedirun Tim Battershell Vehn

OOC: And now the suspense is probably still killing you.

 

Strap yourselves in for the next epic Gunny post.

IC: Gark S’rily
Home, Coruscant

Gark sat on the sofa at his home, half-asleep. He had been up since early that morning, tending to his family’s situation. His wife was steadily improving, and his son was almost back to normal. What they had gone through had been no joke, and Gark wanted to make sure that he was there for them. It’s what Me’lin would do for him, so he returned the favor in this instance. It was funny how married life was.

The last two weeks had been a complete blur, because he hadn’t done much other than tend to his family’s needs. He had left the team in Adanna Inviere’s hands, and Londy Whiste, when he wasn’t watching Limmie as the Senators’ pseudo-owner, had the reins in the Andromeda Corporation boardroom. These two beings made his life a lot easier, and he was glad that he had them to lean on in times of need like this. They allowed him to do what he needed to here on the domestic front.

He tried to lift his head off the sofa, but he just felt too tired. He wasn’t getting much sleep these nights, and it was wearing on him over time. Yes he could easily fall asleep, but what if his wife needed him to help her get to the bathroom, and he was out cold on the couch? He didn’t dare drift off, even though his eyelids told him a different story. Gotta get some rest his conscience told him.

And then his comlink buzzed. Gark wanted to yell something obscene at it, because he wasn’t really in the mood to want to answer any questions, but picked it up anyways. “Yeah, Gark here,” he said sleepily.

“Hey Coach, thought I should be the first to congratulate you!” Dirxx Horstse said on the other end of the line. Why the Besalisk still called him “Coach”, he had no idea. The last time the Bothan had coached the Hall-of-Fame half back had been in ’72 . . . almost four years had passed since then.

“Congratulate me on what?” Gark asked. He had no idea what his former team captain was talking about. What had he done now to garner more attention?

“You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

“You’ve just been named the only, and I mean only, inductee for this year’s class of the Limmie Hall of Fame!” Dirxx said. “Don’t you ask me what for. It’s only the apex of our sport.”

Gark’s jaw dropped. He was named to the Hall of Fame? He, the Bothan who had been no one special for so long, who somehow turned around a derelict franchise, and was now reaping the benefits of such success? There had been a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that this might someday occur, but he never thought it would be now, if ever. The Hall of Fame was a prestigious club, and now he was going to be a part of it.

“I . . . I don’t know . . . what to say,” the Bothan replied.

“Hey, you have plenty of time to figure that out before the induction ceremony,” the Besalisk reminded him. “I wrote half of my speech the night before, so don’t stress about it.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t ad-lib the whole thing,” Gark commented.

“Just because I wrote half of it the night before doesn’t mean I didn’t throw it out when I had to actually give it,” the Besalisk said. He likely was grinning, although Gark couldn’t see that from here. “Just don’t flip out, and make sure to breathe every once in a while. It’ll do you some good.”

“How does it feel to now have to share space in team Lore with me?” Gark asked smugly.

“Hey, I got in first. Just remember that,” Dirxx joked. “Three years earlier.”

“You had a head start in on the game. I joined late,” Gark reminded.

“We’re square on that. So get started on your speech, because this is going to change your life. I’ll see you when we get back to Coruscant.”

“Yep,” Gark said. He cut the connection, and then set the comlink down on the table. He was now going to be a Hall-of-Famer, and he didn’t have to share the honor with anyone else this year. It was his year to shine, his year to show the galaxy that he had done something truly special.

But the comlink didn’t leave him alone. It buzzed only seconds later, and Gark picked it up. It was Polis Vayne, his next-door neighbor and former player who had won those two Galactic Cup titles. “You earned it,” Polis said.

“Thanks. But I think you helped me along,” Gark admitted. Polis had certainly done his fair share of the work on those championship teams, winning the 262 Numifolis Award as Playoff MVP.

“Hey, I think you deserve a lot of credit,” Polis replied. “Without you coming along and pushing us in the back . . . we might never have took off. I might just be some random dude you see every now and then on the street who works a 9-to-5 job.”

“Very true,” Gark said. That 262 season had been . . . interesting, to say the least. It seemed so long ago. A decade and a half had passed since then, and so much had gone on in the interim. Many good things, many bad things. But many things nonetheless.

“Oh, and Meredith . . . you know, who’s coaching for that team that shall remain nameless for our sanity after the loss this year . . . sends along her kudos as well. Since she’s part of the club and all.”

Gark got a chuckle out of that. Yes the loss to Nar Shaddaa this season had hurt, but at least the team was still alive in the Solo Conference playoff hunt. “Still jealous that she’s in the Hall and you’re not?” the Bothan asked.

“A little,” Polis admitted. “She’s got the nice jacket, and I . . . don’t. But I didn’t exactly do so badly myself.”

“I would say you came out of it pretty well,” Gark agreed. “A long career, multiple awards, two Galactic Cup titles, a very attractive wife, and your number retired in the Team Ring of Fame along with your name in the Team Hall of Fame. Not so bad.”

“Exactly,” Polis replied. “She says ‘Welcome to the Club’. Also that the Smugglers are still better.”

“Yeah, I’m not surprised she said that,” Gark said. “She still has one more title on both of us, I’m afraid of us.”

“More incentive to even the score this year,” Polis said.

“How’s the team doing?” Gark asked.

“Nothing really new, but we’ve got an uphill battle this week. We have what . . . eleven . . . rookies on the roster? That’s a lot of inexperience right there.”

“You’ll have to make do with it,” Gark said.

“I know. Hopefully we can get this done and head on to the postseason,” Polis said. “Anyways, I need to get going. Congrats on the induction. You’ll love the publicity.”

“Doubt that, but I’ll like the honor,” Gark said. He cut the connection and sighed. Gark S’rily, Hall-of-Famer. Not bad.

---

Empress Teta, HoF Induction Ceremony

Gark sat in his seat at the theater. As expected, he was nervous. Here he was, perhaps one of the unlikeliest inductees in this Hall’s history, being enshrined with the legends of the game. They had once seemed like an elite bunch that he and his players were never be on par with, or anywhere remotely close. But now he was one of them. In a few minutes, he was going to be an equal with those legends. Jipoly Numifolis, Lysander Perkins, Petra Givens, Anki Rysowt, Dirxx Horstse, the tragic figures of the 246 Senators team who had lost their lives in that shuttle crash . . . he was now going to join those names in the hallowed halls of this establishment. What a group of names, and he was going to join them for all eternity. In 200 years, beings would still talk of his legendary status within the game. Who knew what form the game would take in two centuries . . . but one thing was for certain. Gark S’rily would always be that formative figure who pushed a down-on-its-luck franchise back to prominence, back to respectability. If that’s what beings would remember him for, it was a worthwhile venture.

Sitting here with him was a large Senator contingent. His wife, Me’lin, was here at his side, having long since recovered from the physical torment brought upon her during her darkest days. She was still undergoing therapy for the mental strain, but she seemed to be getting better every day. Her husband being inducted into the Hall-of-Fame certainly improved her situation. His son Galin was sitting attentively in his seat. Although only three and a half years old, the boy knew the stakes here, knew that the pomp and circumstance meant something. Polis and Meredith were here, Meredith citing that she didn’t want to miss seeing a main rival going into the Hall where he belonged, and Polis being there because his former Coach was finally getting recognition for what he deserved. Dirxx and his wife Re’lia, who was Me’lin’s sister, were here, their adopted daughter sitting with them as she waited to see her uncle get into the Hall of Fame. Also there were various members of those championship teams from 262 and 268. Jed Ortmeyer, the unsung hero of the 268 squad and coach of the Thyferra Force, Shev Fil’yer, Shayt Contar, and Lokesh Fil’ish, two-time champions in their own right, Brosh We’kyr and his wife Ravil We’kyr, both working for the Senator staff after Brosh’s career had ended abruptly due to injury, Izzi Polakaya and Alysha Romax, who had been the midfielder tandem for the ’68 title team, Dilfy Pogrid, Velay Corvis, Evis Kunat . . . so many players that Gark had once coached or been a GM for. Adanna was here as well, the Bothan’s assistant GM knowing that her boss was now going to be enshrined as one of the best General Managers of his age. But she had been under his tutelage on the 268 title team, so she was also here for that purpose. It was quite a party for everyone who Gark had worked with.

Finally the ceremony began. An aging Hall representative went up to the podium to polite applause from the crowd. “I want to thank you all for coming out here today for the induction of the 276 Limmie Hall of Fame class,” the man said. Cheers came from the crowd, but were quickly silenced when the man held up his hand. “The Hall of Fame, as you all well know, is to be dedicated to those who have put their all into the game that we cherish around this galaxy of ours, and have overcome adversity and the odds to be champions. Today, the Hall of Fame will be welcoming one new member this year.

He is a very deserving member.” More cheers from the crowd. A few hairs on Gark’s neck started to rise. He was nervous. It was like his wedding all over again, just with more people watching.

“The inductee for this year was once a nobody in the sport. He took the helm of a team in the throes of a major downwards trend, which couldn’t do much of anything right. He had no prior Limmie experience, but came in all the same. So now we stand here, fifteen years later, to honor his career as an administrator, and as a coach in the Elite League. He took the Coruscant Senators to six Galactic Cup Finals in a twelve-year run, winning two. He has won two of every award you can have as a coach and general manager, further cementing his status as a legend. But he also has done so much for the community of Coruscant, and for the entire game of Limmie.

Ladies and gentlebeings, the Limmie Hall of Fame is proud to announce that the 276 inductee to the Hall is Gark S’rily.”

The crowd went wild, and Gark stood up meekly from his seat. Now was the time to get up to the podium and prove to everyone why he was here. He slowly moved down the aisle, the sound of the clapping slowly crescendo as he walked to the stage. Finally he settled in at the podium, and the clapping abruptly halted. It was his moment in the limelight, and everyone wanted to hear what he had to say about the honor about to be bestowed on him.

“They say that once you’ve done enough in this game, that you’re put up on a pedestal,” Gark began. He had to calm his nerves a bit. “I’m not on a pedestal per se, but a podium like this one is a nice second.” Some laughter came from the crowd, which was the desired effect. It calmed his nerves, because those first few words were always the hardest. Once you got rolling, sometimes there was no stopping. But starting, that was a whole different ballgame.

“Fifteen years ago, if you had told me that I would be standing up here at the Limmie Hall of Fame, about to be inducted into the Hall for my achievements with this wonderful game, I wouldn’t have believed it. Fifteen years ago, I had no idea what I was getting into when I was made General Manager of the Coruscant Senators, a team I had only heard about but never really knew anything about. You see, when I started as GM, the whole purpose of the venture was to gain a profit. It came from a far-fetched idea I had while on vacation . . .”

---

Bothawui, 261

Gark strode through the streets, taking in the whole scene as he went. Vacation was a nice getaway from his job at Andromeda Steel and Droid Corp. back on Coruscant. He had worked his way through the ranks from being a clerk straight out of college, to department assistant, department head, and then rose steadily to where he now was as an executive. And he had done this in less than ten years, a remarkable achievement for a boy from a working-class family in the rougher sections of the planet.

He had finally earned his vacation after a few months as executive, and had been wondering where to spend a week or two. He didn’t want to just sit in his apartment and watch the HoloNet all day. No, he had an itch to get out of the Core and go somewhere that would take his mind off of work, and would help relax him. The job he held was stressful despite being a good-paying gig, and hopefully a week away from it would ease his mind and refresh his vigor for the job. So there had been a decision to make.

What had ended up occurring was that he realized that he needed to bring his parents along with him. They had busted their asses when he and his sister Ryal were young, working multiple jobs each to support their family. It had been a stressful time growing up for the S’rily siblings, because their parents were frequently out working when they got home, and they certainly never went on vacation. Often, the two were dropped off at the neighborhood youth club, to try and keep them from dropping out of school and joining the roving bands of street youth who sometimes terrorized the neighborhood. There was never enough money to go offworld, his father always said, so all they could really hope to do was go to the nicer parts of Coruscant for part of a day if they could get off work for a few hours. There wasn’t much money, so they couldn’t buy much of anything that they could see in the windows of the Coruscanti shops they passed by, but just spending time together was the real prize.

Times had changed since then. Gark had somehow scraped together the money to go to the Coruscant Trade School, a small Division III technical college where he had learned to be an accountant. It was a way to make some decent money, he had heard. He had always been good with numbers, and wanted to get a job where he could make a living wage, but also stay out of the factories and machine shops where his father worked. Sometimes after school he would sneak into one of the shops to pal around with his father, Gille, but often was met with a “Sorry, sport, but I don’t have time to hang out right now” response. He wanted nothing to do with machine shops, because they were dirty, oily, and noisy. He wanted to work with numbers.

How much things had changed, Gark thought as he continued to wander through the streets. He didn’t know where he was going, but that was all part of the experience. He just wanted to get lost for a few hours, lost in his own thoughts. His parents were just about to retire from their jobs, finally ready to give up their occupations after many long years of just scraping by. They deserved a chance to rest and enjoy their lives. Ryal had gotten married two years prior, and was now expecting her first child. Gark wasn’t quite sure what she was doing occupation-wise these days, but it probably was something she enjoyed. She remained upbeat every time her older brother called her to chat, so obviously she was in a good situation.

His parents had decided that they wanted to wander off today and see the sights, so Gark had decided that he wanted to go his own way. So he had bade them goodbye for the time being at the hotel and had just started walking. He had decided to come to Bothawui because his grandfather on his father’s side had immigrated to Coruscant with his family when Gille was only a few years old in search of better job prospects. The economy in Bothan Space had been in the tank for a few years there, and he had figured that moving his immediate family to the Core was a better alternative to barely scraping by here. Gark’s mother’s family had lived on Coruscant for several generations, so he had some generation roots on the Galactic Capital planet. But what mattered was that he had been born on Coruscant, which was still his home. Yet his father had always wanted to return here to Bothawui, just to see it one final time. He didn’t remember much about it, but living in the past wouldn’t suit him very well. Gark had never known his grandfather; he had died years before the young Bothan had been born. But he silently thanked the man for taking his family to Coruscant, for giving him a chance to become a successful businessman.

Now Gark was walking by a sports field. There was a game going on, the players all about eight or nine years of age. He slowed down to see what they were doing, but the game they were playing was foreign to him. There was a small ball they were kicking and throwing around, with goalposts on either end of the field consisting of a goal on the bottom and posts that arched past the upper bar of the goal. The kids were yelling at each other; “Pass!” one would shout. “I’m open!” another yelled. But the player with the ball just kept going, pushing another child out of the way on their path towards the goal. What was this game, Gark wondered. He finally walked up to an adult who was leaning on the waist-high fence.

“Excuse me,” Gark said. “What is that?” He pointed to the children playing.

“What is what?” the man asked.

“That game. What game is it?”

“It’s only the best game ever,” the man said. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of boloball.”

Boloball . . . Gark had indeed heard of it, but had certainly never watched it. Of course, it was known as ‘Limmie’ in the Core worlds. Ondal had talked about it incessantly in college, but he had never been able to drag Gark to a game despite multiple attempts to get the Bothan to leave his homework and just hang out for a few hours at the stadium. It looked . . . interesting. There seemed to be few rules, or the youths were just roughhousing with each other to the delight of the parents in the stands.

“I’ve heard of it, but never seen it played. I always assumed it was boring,” Gark said.

“Boring?” the other man asked, shocked. “How could this beautiful game be boring? You’re obviously not from here.”

“Nope,” Gark said. “I’m from Coruscant, actually. Here on vacation.”

“Ah, I can see why you’ve never really gotten into the game, then,” the man said.

“Why’s that?”

“You’ve never heard of the Coruscant Senators?” the man asked. Gark shook his head. Again, he had heard of them now and then, but didn’t know much, and certainly didn’t understand the parlance regarding them. Yes Coruscant had a Senate . . . what did that have to do with these kids? “Boy, you’re really out of the loop on these things. But, I guess you aren’t missing much regarding the Senators.”

“Why?” Gark inquired. Now he was curious.

“They’re a terrible team,” the man said. “Why Crendan won’t demote them to the Premier League, I don’t know. Stupid ‘Big Four’ talk and all, and since they’re a founding member of the league . . . they get protection from demotion. It’s a load of crap if you ask me. Why the Senators stay in the league, yet Kothlis can’t make it to the Elite League, I have no idea . . .”

“Elite League?” Gark asked. What was that? He also didn’t know what a Premier League or a Crendan was. Was that a species he had never heard of?

“Geez, man, you must really be out of the loop on Coruscant,” the other man said, shaking his head once again. Gark didn’t like this guy’s mentality, but he was too curious about this game of Limmie to walk away. “The Elite League is only the highest, most professional Limmie league in the galaxy. They play for the Galactic Cup. It’s this huge silver chalice that has the names of all its champions engraved on it. What I’d give to be able to hold that beautiful object for even five seconds . . . so much history . . . Anyways, I’m, like most folks you’ll find around here, fans of the Kothlis Spies. They’re the local team, obviously, and they’ve been a very successful franchise. Five Galactic Cups to their name in ten trips to the Cup Final. Of course, their last trip there was in 235, so it’s been a while. But I remember that Final like it was yesterday. I was only seven, but they had parades and everything, even here on Bothawui. We and Kothlis are close. We all are here in Bothan Space. So when Kothlis does well, we all celebrate. But man, that was a party. We even got to skip school the next day as a national holiday so that we could continue to celebrate. Limmie is that big a deal here. I want my daughter to someday play for the Spies. It’s a longshot, I know, but someday she’ll get there.”

“Is she out there?” Gark asked, pointing to the crowd of children playing the game.

“Yep. She’s kinda hard to see from here if you don’t know where to look for her in a crowd,” the man replied. “This is a BSAU game. Bothan Space Athletic Union. It’s a pro-type league for youths. Get the best players out of the school team systems and have them travel all over Bothan Space to play against other talented youth. Many high school and college stars here once were BSAU players. Some even do prep sports and this. But the hope of these kids is to all go pro someday. Even if it’s not here, they want to make money playing Limmie. Of course, all want to play for Kothlis. If the Spies ever return to the Elite League, we’ve got a crop of young kids who can take the squad to several titles. We have that kind of talent here that no one knows about outside of our space. I hear rumors that Niakara Kayl’hen might be the next Commissioner. She works with the Super 16 Conference right now, but she came from here. If she does indeed become the next Commish, I think she’s obligated to repay us by getting the Spies into the League.”

This sounded like a very complicated concept, Gark thought to himself as he watched the game. Limmie . . . boloball . . . hm, interesting. “So tell me more about this Elite League,” he said.

“It’s a Coruscant thing, isn’t it?” the man asked. “Look, all you need to know is that the Senators are a terrible team. They won the Cup a few years ago, but everyone knows that was a fluke. They’ve sucked for years. Is it true that people there just don’t care?”

“Well, if I didn’t even know what this game was before today, then I can probably say ‘yes’ with some certainty,” Gark admitted. “They just don’t talk about it much. If they do, I don’t hear it.”

“Typical Core worlders,” the man said. “Too busy to see the beauty of this game. They forsake their boloball squads because they think they have other options. It’s a load of crap if you ask me.”

Gark wondered if the man was talking about him. He didn’t know anything about Limmie coming in, and now felt like he probably didn’t want to know anything about these Senators. He continued to watch the game, and every passing moment, he realized that there was something special here. He had no idea why he felt that way, just that it was intriguing him. It was almost like the game was calling him, a spirit trying to drag him into the thick of the action. For the first time, Gark felt like Limmie might be something he’d want to know more about.

For the next half hour, he just stood there watching. Finally one team prevailed, and they celebrated their win. “Gotta go pick up my daughter, so goodbye, stranger,” the man whom he had been talking to said. “Hope you enjoy the rest of your vacation,” he said before walking away. Now Gark was alone once more, but the game stuck in his mind. Something in him had just awoken, and he wanted to see where that would lead.

---

Andromeda Corp. Board Meeting, Two Weeks Later

Gark sat in the boardroom. He had just gotten back from vacation, and was ready to jump back into his job. Bill Sazarecki, the CEO, sat at the head of the table. He was a short man, about as tall as Gark, and was very rotund. He obviously ate too much. In all the time Gark had known him, Bill usually was eating something when he didn’t need to speak or do much of anything. But he also had a fun-loving personality. At least he wasn’t a hard-nose.

“Welcome back, Gark,” Bill commented.

“Thank you, sir,” Gark replied.

“I trust that you enjoyed your time off?” the CEO asked.

“Yes sir,” Gark said with a nod. “It was very relaxing. Got to take my father to his homeworld, even though he hadn’t been there in a good fifty or so years.”

“Good to know,” Bill said. “Now, opening this up to all of you, we need a new revenue stream. The new billboards haven’t been very helpful, and we’re losing money on them. Beings just aren’t stopping to see them, and we’ve lost two million credits on them. I advised our marketing department to cease with them, but then they asked me what they should to instead. So, what do all of you think? How can we turn a profit in the marketing department?”

There was stony silence in the room as everyone sat there, thinking. It seemed like an eternity, but someone finally raised their hand. “We could always sponsor CorFair,” they said.

“That’s been in decline for years,” another executive said. “People just aren’t going to that like they used to.” More silence.

Finally Gark raised his hand. Everyone turned to look at him. “I have an idea. It may not have much merit, but I think it should at least be put out there,” he said. “We should buy a stake in the Coruscant Senator Limmie club.”

“What? Are you crazy?” an executive asked. “The Senators are a terrible investment! We’d never make our money back!”

“Besides, we here at Andromeda don’t buy stakes,” Bill said. “We would have to buy the team outright.”

“But the team is for sale right now,” Gark said. “They’re dirt cheap to purchase.”

“How would we make any money? Limmie is such a waste of time,” another young executive by the name of Calo Mornd said. “We would be better off spending that cash on investments, housing developments and the like. Those are going to be on the upswing, according to the finance division.”

“But we could purchase the team . . . name, rights, and everything,” Gark said. “Besides, if we rename the stadium . . . I don’t know, Andromeda Steel and Droid Corp. Stadium, or something . . . Andromeda Field . . . then every time games are shown around the galaxy, we get free advertising. You know, ‘Welcome to Coruscant, and Andromeda Field . . .’ It would be a cheap way to advertise.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Bill said, pointing a finger at Gark. “The power of the HoloNet spans far and wide. We could get our name out there if we do that.”

“But it’s still so expensive,” Mornd complained. “We would never turn a profit on that thing. And if we ever did, it would likely be after all of us are retired or dead. So it does us no good.”

“Look, the team is in decline right now,” Gark said. “Say we could get them to have a couple of winning seasons. Maybe then we could turn a profit.”

“You’re asking the impossible,” an executive said. “The Senators just don’t win anymore. It’s a fool’s mission. And you’re smarter than that, S’rily. Don’t follow bad leads.”

“Do we have any other options?” Gark asked. “Because we’re losing money, and that’s a bad investment in itself.”

“We’ll find something.”

“But in business, you need to take risks. And I’ve done calculations on what we can get out of this,” Gark said. “I’m sending you the file now.” Several pings could be heard, and the executives checked their datapads. “As you can see, I think it would be a risk, but since when have we not risked money? That’s what business is. We have to invest in hopes that what we put our money down on grows into something special. So I need all of you to trust me on this one.”

“Media exposure . . . free advertising . . . concession sales . . . sponsorships . . . hm, very nice,” Bill commented. “You spent a lot of time on this.”

“Several days,” Gark said. “Long ride out to the vacation spot.”

“You know, I’m starting to feel like this is a good idea,” Bill said. “I’m always up for a risk like this.”

“But sir, what if it fails?” Mornd asked. “We’re going to be out a lot of money, and then we’re ripe to be mocked for our foolish decision.”

“If we can flip the team at that point for even one credit more than what we purchased it for, we will turn a profit,” Gark said. “Just believe in me, sir. I think this is a sound business decision.”

Now the room went deathly quiet. Everyone was waiting for Bill to deliver his decision. Finally, the CEO sighed. “You’ve forced my hand, Gark,” he said. “We are going to purchase the team. And that’s final.” Mornd scowled, but kept his mouth shut.

When the meeting was adjourned, Bill went up to his young Bothan executive. “Can I speak to you for a moment?” he asked.

“Yes,” Gark said.

“This is going to be a big risk, buying the team. But I want to know that it is handled right. So since it’s up to me, I will offer you the General Manager job with the club. Can you do that for me? If you don’t know much about the game, you can hire someone to take over team operations. I just want someone on the inside who knows how to maximize our revenue flow from the team.”

“You can count on me, sir,” Gark said. “Just give me a chance.”

“All right, then. Welcome to the club,” Bill said as he walked away. Gark didn’t quite know what he was getting into, but hopefully it was something that would turn out to be a positive for the company. If this venture made money, that would be a major positive not just for the corporation, but also for himself.

---

Senators Practice Facility, 261 offseason

“Alasea Orchetrada, nice to meet you,” the red-haired woman said. “But my friends call me ‘Allie’.”

“Gark S’rily,” Gark said, introducing himself. “I’m the new General Manager.”

“Ah, so you must be from this Andromeda Corporation,” Allie said. Gark nodded. “Well, I’m glad someone bought the team, even if it’s for business interests first. The last team owners were a terrible bunch. They just didn’t have the guts to finish the job. They bring in me-first players, let the practice facility here go to hell, and build a new stadium but can’t even fill it on gameday. It was a sad situation, but don’t let that get you down. We can start fresh with you at the helm. How much do you know about Limmie?”

“Not a lot,” Gark said.

“Try me. How much is ‘a lot’?”

“I just learned about the rules of the game a few months ago,” Gark said sheepishly. Allie slapped a palm to her face.

“Oi, this is going to be a long one,” she said.

“I’m a quick study,” Gark said. “But I’d like to meet the team, if you don’t mind.”

“Follow me,” Allie said. Obviously she still wasn’t happy about Gark being new to the sport, but what choice did she have? Gark didn’t exactly have to keep her around as head coach. The two of them went through a few doorways to a practice field. Gark could see that the place was rickety; ceiling tiles were missing every now and then, walls looked grimy, and the whole place just reeked of needing a makeover. But there were players standing on the field, waiting for them.

“All right, y’all! Listen up!” Allie yelled. Everyone turned around to face the new arrivals. “I hope you’re all here for the Coruscant Senators, right?” Some nods from the crowd. “Now, I have coached some of you before, but for those of you I don’t know, I will get to know you soon enough. I am Allie Orchetrada. I am your head coach for this season. To my left here . . .” she said, but when she looked to her left, Gark wasn’t there. He was to her right. Silently she cursed at him, but didn’t say anything. “To my right, is our new General Manager. He’s from the Andromeda Corporation, who now owns the team.”

“I’m Gark S’rily,” Gark said as he stepped forward. “I’m happy to be here.”

“So Coach, are we going to practice today?” a husky-looking Besalisk asked.

“Yes Dirxx, I was about to get to that,” Allie said. “I want to make sure that we’re all on the same page here. The pundits don’t think we’re any good. I’m sick of them always talking sithspit about us, so if we can get some good chemistry together, and some stable team leadership, we can go far. Any questions?” No one asked anything, so Allie continued. “All right, let’s get in some running. Line sprints, just to get started. I take it you’ve all stretched, so let’s go.”

The players went to the side of the field, and when Allie blew her whistle, they all started to run for the opposite end. Gark thought it was an amazing sight. Players of both genders and all sorts of species were in the group. It was quite a sight compared to the all-Bothan teams he had seen on Bothawui.

When the drill was done, everyone got to rest for a few minutes. During this time, Allie and Gark wenat around and talked to the players. The coach seemed to know some of them, but not all. They went up to the Besalisk first. “Hi Dirxx, glad to see you could make it,” Allie said.

“Dirxx Horstse,” the Besalisk said to Gark. “I’m returning from last year’s team.”

“His father played for the Senators back in the day,” Allie said.

“I’m always playing in his shadow,” Dirxx admitted. “My goal is to one day get out of that shadow and prove that I’m my own player. But I have a long way to go first. I want to stick it to the media for always being down on me because of my father. They just don’t think I’ll ever be as good as him. I want to prove it to them that I am just as good as he was.”

Next up was a Bothan. “Brosh We’kyr,” the man said. “Midfielder. Running is my trade. Ball skills probably need a little more work, but that’s what camp is for, eh?”

“Exactly,” Allie said.

“Shayt Contar,” a tough-looking Feeorin female said. “I play Corner Back, and I hit like a tank.”

“She’s part of ‘The Wall’,” Allie commented to Gark after they passed Contar.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a nickname the friendly media gave to our defense for having three large defenders who can all hit and take up space,” Allie replied. “Dirxx, Shayt, and Shev here.”

“I see what you mean,” Gark said. They had come to a Noghri, who was taking a long swig from a water bottle.

“This is Shev Fil’yer,” Allie said. “He doesn’t say a lot, but he’s a mean guy on the field. Nice guy off of it, though.”

“It should be a good year,” Shev commented. “Can’t be any worse than last year, eh, Coach?”

“That it can’t,” Allie said.

Now they were at a blonde human who looked to only be about 23 or so years of age. He had a grin not too unlike Dirxx, and he certainly looked like more of a pretty boy than a grizzled Limmie veteran. “Polis Vayne,” he said when he shook Gark’s hand. “Corner forward. I try to score goals in bunches.”

On they went down the line. Rodian brothers Grogedi and Girgedi. Velay Corvis, a defensive back. Tavis Corizyl, goalkeeper. Syprul Raches, Shistavanen full forward. Some reserves. On the overall, it was a motley-looking assortment of players.

When the drills began again, Gark knew he had to talk to Allie some more to learn about this team. “So, not to be nosy, but since I don’t know much about this team, who really stands out?” Gark inquired.

“Well, I coached Dirxx, Shayt, Shev, and Polis last year, so I know more what to expect from them. Tavis as well, plus a few of the other players. But I really want to see what this Raches guy can do for our offense. I think he has the size to force the issue up front. We really need scoring threats on this team, and if we can get him going, we’ll be in business.”

“Who will be the leader of the squad?” Gark then asked.

“I really don’t know. Our last ‘captain’ decided that he was done with the team and went into free agency. The guy wasn’t happy with management, as well all were. So he figured it was best to leave when he still had value on the Free Agent market.”

“Can someone step in and take over?” Gark asked.

“Sure they can. I just need to find someone who can whip up the troops,” Allie said.

“Hey Polis, your shorts are backwards,” Dirxx commented. Polis blushed bright red as he realized that the Besalisk was right, and he tried to rectify the issue. But it was no use, so he just sighed.

“I think that’s your answer right there,” Gark said, pointing to Dirxx.

“Dirxx? You must be joking,” Allie said.

“Why?”

“Don‘t get me wrong, he’s a good player. But he likes to be goofy. Limmie captains need to be of a serious mind, and he . . . just doesn’t have it. His father was once captain of the Senators, but Dirxx . . . he just doesn’t fit that mold at all. I don’t know if he could ever be a serious captain option.”

“Give him a chance. I see something in him that screams ‘captain’ to me,” Gark said.

“How long have you watched this game?” Allie inquired.

“About two months.”

“This is going to be a long camp,” Allie said as she walked away. Gark shrugged and continued to watch the practice.

---

Stoney End Park, Chandrila, 262



“We did it!” Dirxx yelled out as he threw the ball into the air in celebration. Somehow, against all odds, the Coruscant Senators had won the Galactic Cup of Limmie against the heavily-favored Kashyyyk Rangers. They had reeled off seven consecutive wins to take the title, and in the stadium of one of their biggest rivals. The Besalisk was snowed under in the dogpile of Senator players, all of them excited in their moment of triumph.

Gark stood on the field, basking in the glow of the moment. After just one year, the Senators had gone from wannabes to Galactic Cup champions. He didn’t know whether this would have much of an impact on Andromeda’s investment in the organization, but if nothing else, he had reached the pinnacle of the sport. If only that Bothan man whom he had talked with on Bothawui the prior year could see him now. A complete newbie to the sport now getting a chance to raise the Galactic Cup above his head only a year or so later. It was the kind of story that would make a great Holo flick.

“You did it,” Allie said as she came up behind the Bothan GM. “You put together a team that won us a title.”

“No, Allie,” Gark said. “We did it. We all had a hand in this win.” He could see Dirxx hugging his teammates after he got out of the dogpile. “And we have one hell of a captain,” he commented.

“You think this momentum will last?” the coach asked.

“If we play our cards right, I think we can go far,” Gark said.

“What’s that, a proverb?”

“Nope. It’s just good business,” Gark stated.

---

Mandalore, 268

11-4, that was the final score at the horn. The Senator team streamed onto the field in celebration, and Gark was doused in Gundarkade from the cooler. It was a chilling shock to his system, but he didn’t care. His team had once again won the Galactic Cup, and he had coached them to it this time. Yes he was still GM, but he was now head coach, so this victory felt even more special. The fifth-seeded team that had lost its tiebreaker had roared through the playoffs, just barely clipping Bakura on a last-second miracle goal in the Semifinals to get here, and now was celebrating a Cup title.

Gark found Dirxx in the mass of players and media, and the Besalisk gave the Bothan a huge hug. “We’re not such a bad team,” the captain said.

“Two titles in seven years?” Gark said. “I think we’ve earned that right.”

When the team got its championship Holo taken, Gark smiled brighter than he possibly ever had before. This team hadn’t been as much of an underdog as the 262 title team coming in, but after the pain of multiple Finals losses, plus missing the postseason in 267, no one quite knew what was coming from the team from Coruscant. But they powered through, and were now Galactic Cup champions. Gark looked around at his players. Dirxx, Shayt, Shev, Polis, Syprul, Lokesh Fil’ish, the vaunted Bothan field general who made the Senator offense run smoothly, Moen Heatly, Adanna Inviere, Jerek Deter, Alysha Romax . .. this was possibly the best team he ever could assemble. But the biggest part of it was that they all believed, and it had carried them far. He couldn’t be prouder of this team.

---

“It’s been one hell of a ride, I can tell you,” Gark said as his speech continued. “Many things have changed in those fifteen years, for better or for worse. I have seen dark times, watched as things crumbled around me. But I never gave up, always pushed to succeed. And I think my induction here proves that I’m diligent. It certainly seems to have paid off for the Senator organization, and for myself.

I have so many beings to thank for helping me get here. They have all played a major part in getting me to where I am today. I want to thank my parents, for always supporting me even when money was tight. They helped me go to college, to realize my dreams. Even though they aren’t alive anymore, I feel like they are still with me in some way. They would be proud to see me here today, proud to see what I have accomplished in my life.

I also have to thank Bill Sazarecki, even though he is no longer with us, for giving me the chance to guide this franchise. Without his support, I probably never would have gone into Limmie management. And that would be a travesty.” Laughter came from the crowd. Gark didn’t know if it was funny, but he just went along with it.

“But the team is where I really have to give kudos. To the greatest captain of his generation . . . my soon-to-be fellow Hall-of-Famer, Dirxx Horstse. When I first knew him, he was a real goofball, always trying to get his teammates to laugh. But I saw captain potential in him. And boy was I right. Yet he still has a leg up on me that he was inducted a couple of years ago, and I’m just getting in now. Now we’re even.” More laughs from the crowd.

“But I’m just beginning. I want to thank the rest of ‘Core Six’ of those two title teams. Shayt Contar, Shev Fil’yer, Lokesh Fil’ish, Syprul Raches, and Polis Vayne. Without those six players, the team would not have been nearly as successful as they were. When I needed a stop on defense, or goals on offense, they would step up their game and get it done, no questions asked. I couldn’t have asked for better players, and I’m glad that I got to take the journey with them through all of those years. You guys are sorely missed out there.” Applause for the six players came.

“And then there were the players and staff who came after the 262 season, who were still important to the team and its operations. To people like Jed Ortmeyer, whose selfless play and great screens helped us win the 268 title. To Moen Heatly, to Adanna Inviere, to Tavis Corizyl . . . well, OK, he was on both title teams, but no one ever gave him enough credit. No one gave any of our players enough credit for what they did. To Allie Orchetrada, who helped me believe that there was something great in this team. To Andrew Mundle and Palla Tyroti . .. well, I guess Tyroti-Mundle now . . . to the coordinators who made that 268 team run, even though they hated each other for a while. I guess it goes to show what can happen when you bring people together in a professional team. You never know until you get there.

Limmie has taught me many lessons. It has taken me to the pinnacle of the sport, and also to the bottom depths. It has been a struggle; the game is ever-evolving, and the team has had to adapt to new teams and new players. But I’m glad that I’ve done my part in putting Coruscant Limmie back on the map. When I took over the team, the Senators were a laughingstock. They were nothing special. But I helped build them back up, and now I’m standing here before you. I would call that a successful project.” More applause.

“I don’t know what the future will bring for the franchise. We have several young stars who can hopefully turn into the next Senator greats, and I look forward to continuing my work as GM of this team. Limmie has given me a lot to be proud of, and also something to hold onto in hard times. It truly is the “Beautiful Game”. Thank you.”

The audience gave Gark a standing ovation when he finished, and the applause echoed around the entire theater. Gark got to shake hands with the MC, and then a Hall employee helped him slip on his new Hall-of-Fame gold jacket. Next, a bust of him was unveiled. Gark thought it looked a little funky, but he didn’t care. He had finally made it.

When he returned to the Senator contingent, the first thing that happened was that Dirxx caught him up in a huge bear hug. The man was wearing his gold jacket. “Welcome to the club!” Dirxx said.

“Erk . . . ugh!” Gark spluttered.

“What?” Dirxx asked. “Could you repeat that?”

“Air . . . need air!” Gark spluttered. Dirxx realized that he was squeezing the daylights out of the Bothan, and then set him down. Gark had to get in several deep breaths to regain his composure, but was quickly fine.

“Sorry about that,” Dirxx said. “Welcome to the club.” He shook Gark’s hand this time, but partially crushed it. Gark grinned and bore it, despite the pain.

Next up were Polis and Meredith, the latter wearing her gold Hall jacket as well. They shook Gark’s hand. “Good for you, Coach,” Polis said.

“Welcome aboard,” Meredith said.

Then came his wife. Gark got a huge hug from Me’lin. “I knew you could do it,” the Twi’lek said to him.

“And I’m not done yet,” Gark said. “I feel like this is just the beginning.”


And he meant it. Yes he had made it to the Hall of Fame, but Gark S’rily wasn’t done yet, nowhere near. There were still chapters to write in his life, stories yet to be told. But now he was Gark S’rily, Galactic Cup champion and award-winning Coach and GM, and now Hall-of-Famer. That had quite a nice ring to it.


TAG: Vehn (for mentions of Meredith), Everyone

 

IC: Vesper Lynd
Monarchs’ Stadium, Ryell, Rydonni Prime
ELL Week 8, Monarchs vs. Starkillers, Gameday

“TRAP! TRAAAAAAAAP!!!!”

Romo screamed so loud that he was practically horse. He was even jumping up and down on the sidelines in a vain attempt at getting Bry Dougant to move to his spot faster. But it was to no avail. Even though Bry made it to his spot and forced a turnover, time expired and Monarchs were on the wrong side of a three point deficit.

After the customary post game handshakes the Monarchs turned to their fans and waved to the applauding masses. The team thanked their fans, blowing kisses and giving high-signs, showing their appreciation for all the home support. They could still hear the cheers from the fans echoing down the tunnel that led to the dressing room.

Once everyone finished changing, Romo addressed the team to lay out the schedule for the next week. Normally the team would have the next day off, but with their final game being on the road Romo moved up their team meeting to tomorrow afternoon. After he dismissed the squad Vesper ventured out into the cold night of Ryell a few steps behind her roommates. “Ves,” Winnie turned around to face her, “we’re all heading down to Rookies, wanna join?”

“Thanks but no thanks, Winnie, I think I’ll just go for a walk and then head home.”

“Alright Cap,” the elder Bakuran wrapped her arms around Vesper, “Be safe.”

“I’m always safe… you’re the one I worry about.”

“And where’s the fun in that,” Winnie smacked Vespers backside and gave her a wink, “See you in the morning… don’t wait up.”

Vesper watched as her teammates… her friends walked off in the opposite direction. Taking a deep cleansing breath, she turned on her heels and started marching away from Monarchs Stadium. After about half a kilometer she came upon something she had never seen before… a military checkpoint.

Normally she would leave the stadium via the team shuttle, which had blacked out windows. All she had really seen of Ryell was the stadium, the half kilometer around it, the practice facility, and her apartment. She had no idea that they were living within a police state. But as she kept walking she realized it made sense.

The War for the Throne had been raging on since Queen-in-Exile Naathe’s wedding. According to the galactic media the battles were between two armies of battle droids and involved no sentient element. Which in essence was true, but reality was something completely different. Their battles were not fought on desolate planets or vacant plains of land. No, they were fought in the streets of Ryell and Dorthus Tal City, along with other major cities on Rydonni Prime and Saccoria.

Residents fled when battle droids were spotted nearby. They fled their homes, their jobs, and their possessions, the only things that they did not leave behind were the clothes on their backs and their families. Once the battle droids moved on, the residents returned to find their homes destroyed, offices demolished, and belongings lost forever. For the first year things weren’t so bad, families banded together, businesses reorganized, and property could be replaced.

Then the winter came and everything changed. As the war waged on the government set up ‘safe zones’ around the city. But sectioning off the city did nothing more than allow those fortunate enough to live in these areas to be blind to the plight of those in need. Even Vesper was unaware of what was going on just mere meters from where she lived and worked every day. That was, until she decided to walk home.

Down every side street off the main road Vesper found the needing, huddled around barrels with flames licking the air above them. She watched as small children climbed into dumpsters pulling out scraps of food to fill their empty stomachs and tossed trash to those around the barrels to feed the fires. All the while the snow fell and the only shelter afforded to them were the crumbling buildings in which they once lived and worked.

Vesper pulled her hood up around her face, knowing that all it took was one person to recognize who she truly was and then she would be in real danger. She was nearly home when down a secluded alley she heard the sounds of a skirmish. Peering down she saw a taller boy looming over a smaller one with his fist held in the air over his head.

“Hey!” Vesper suddenly shouted, “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”

The bully froze and turned to regard her, “You?” He started walking towards her and she slipped her hood off. “Ha,” he laughed, “Lucky for you don’t beat up little girls.”

“Unfortunate for you, I do,” she fired back.

“You asked for it sister,” he wheeled around, throwing a haymaker towards Vespers face that she catches, twists his arm back and snaps it at the elbow.

“You should know that you can’t come into my neighborhood without asking politely.” She shoved him out of the alley, giving his rear-end a kick for good measure.

“Thank you miss, but I’ve got nothing to repay you with,” the little boy stuttered.

Vesper reached into her bag, pulled out a red fruit, took a quick bit and tossed it to him. “There, I took my payment. Now run along kid.”



Once the alley was clear, she pulled her hood back up and continued on to her apartment without further incident. Again, when she was about half a kilometer from her building, she encountered another checkpoint. After proving that she resided in the ‘safe zone’ she took the lift up to her floor. It was quiet, meaning her floor mates had not yet returned from their night at the bar.

Opening the door to her apartment the lights that normally came on automatically did not, “Lights.” Still nothing, “Lights?” She ventured further into the apartment and found a figure standing looking out the large wall of glass that looked out onto the forest on the edge of the city. “I’m sorry, but can I help you?”

“So this is ‘your neighborhood’? Do you think you’re the only superstar on this planet? Ms. Lynd, you’ve become part of a bigger cause. You just don’t know it yet.”

Vesper’s brow furrowed slightly, “Who the hell are you?”

The mysterious man turned around and walked towards her, stepping into an ambient light from outside, “Rick Fu’rey. Director of S.P.E.A.R.”



“Ah.”

“I’m here to talk to you about the Sentinel Initiative.”

---

Monarchs’ Stadium, Ryell, Rydonni Prime
ELL Week 9, Monarchs at Patriots, Pre-match team meeting

As the team walked into the complex they were greeted by hundreds of signs all of them bearing just one thing… the number 4. All over the lobby, down the hall that led to the film room, and even all over the film room. When everyone took their seats laying on the table before them was a stack of “4’s”.

Everyone speculated what the Badger had up his sleeve. Vesper, though, was pre-occupied with her own thoughts. Her late night stroll and visitor opened her eyes to what was really happening around her. Now that they were open everything looked different. She shook her head clear as the coaching staff entered the room and Romo started to talk.

“The number 4, it’s one of our sacred numbers. It’s the name of our home field. It’s a reminder of our lost friends. It’s also the number of Professional limmie squads that we have in our organization. But it also holds some special significance for this season. We have four wins and four losses. We have brought home four trophies thus far this season. Unfortunately we have also had four straight seasons of not qualifying for the playoffs. This last one we can change at Stoney End Park on Primeday.”

Romo walked over to the podium and pushed a button. The screen behind him lowered and four groups of two squares each connected by a line appeared behind him. In the first two were the names ‘Monarchs’ and ‘Patriots’. Then in the third grouping there was the name ‘Starkillers’. It was plain to see what point his was trying to make.



“This is our path… our road map … it starts with the Patriots… and ends with the Galactic Cup. From this point forward we are in single elimination mode. Now let’s get started.”

After the meeting was adjourned Winnie ran up to Vesper and gave her a playful nudge. “Hey what’s going on Cap? You seem pre-occupied.”

“Naw, it’s nothing… big game jitters I guess…”

Winnie pulled her to the side, “Come on, something’s gotten into you since last night, what is it?”

Vesper looked around to see if anyone was listening to them, “There's a storm coming, Winnie. You and our friends better batten down the hatches, because when it hits, we're all gonna wonder how we ever thought we could live so large and leave so little for the rest.”

Winnie just stood there staring at her, not knowing what to say.

“But for now, let’s get ready to bring a storm to Chandrila.”

TAG: No One (indirectly: Runjedirun & Trieste)

 

GM Post

Bonus rolls to Bakura, Coruscant, Euceron, Mando'ade, Nar Shaddaa, Ralltiir, and Rydonni Prime.

Week 9 Results
Hapes Consortium Buccaneers at Ralltiir Starkillers (15-21)
Coruscant Senators at Bakura Miners (20-20, OT 21-25)
Rydonni Prime Monarchs at Chandrila Patriots (18-12)
Nar Shaddaa Smugglers at Agamar Packers (7-35)
Euceron Storm at Corellia Rebels (9-6)
Mando’ade Mercs at Ylesia Lightning (19-11)

HSN BREAKING NEWS

• The Nar Shaddaa Smugglers have won the Commissioner's Trophy
• In an unexpected upset, Euceron has leapfrogged Ylesia for second place in the Skywalker Conference and will host the Lightning in the Skywalker Conference Semifinal
• Ralltiir becomes the first team to finish a season with an undefeated conference record

Final Standings
Skywalker Conference

1. Nar Shaddaa Smugglers (7-2, conf. 3-2)
2. Euceron Storm (6-3, conf. 4-1)
3. Ylesia Lightning (6-3, conf. 2-3)
4. Mando'ade Mercs (5-4, conf. 3-2)
5. Agamar Packers (4-5, conf. 3-2)
6. Corellia Rebels (1-8, conf. 0-5)

Solo Conference

1. Ralltiir Starkillers (6-3, conf. 5-0)
2. Rydonni Prime Monarchs (5-4, conf. 3-2)
3. Bakura Miners (5-4, conf. 2-3)
4. Coruscant Senators (3-6, conf. 2-3)
5. Chandrila Patriots (3-6, conf. 2-3)
6. Hapes Consortium Buccaneers (3-6, conf. 1-4)

Galactic Cup Playoffs

Conference Semifinals
(3) Bakura Miners at (2) Rydonni Prime Monarchs
(3) Ylesia Lightning at (2) Euceron Storm

Conference Finals
??? at (1) Ralltiir Starkillers
??? at (1) Nar Shaddaa Smugglers

277 Elite League Draft Determined Draft Positions

1. Coruscant Senators
2. Agamar Packers
3. Mando'ade Mercs

TAG: Bardan_Jusik CPL_Macja jcgoble3 Jedi Gunny Runjedirun Tim Battershell Vehn

 

Sub-GM Post

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

Limmie Futures League
Week 8
Kashyyyk Rangers at Garqi Gunners (3–14)
Commenor Gundarks at Druckenwell Marksmen (15–15, OT 18–15)
Concordia Crusaders at Byblos Red Wings (6–12)
Tatooine Sandskimmers at Thyferra Force (11–3)

Final Standings
1. Commenor Gundarks (5–2)
2. Concordia Crusaders (5–2)
3. Druckenwell Marksmen (4–3)
4. Byblos Red Wings (4–3)
5. Tatooine Sandskimmers (3–4)
6. Thyferra Force (3–4)
7. Garqi Gunners (2–5)
8. Kashyyyk Rangers (2–5)

Tiebreakers:

• 5–2: Commenor beat Concordia in a shootout in Week 4.
• 4–3: Druckenwell beat Byblos in Week 1.
• 3–2: Tatooine beat Thyferra in Week 8.
• 2–5: Garqi beat Kashyyyk in Week 8.

Playoffs

Consolation Semifinals
(8) Kashyyyk Rangers at (5) Tatooine Sandskimmers
(7) Garqi Gunners at (6) Thyferra Force
Futures Cup Semifinals
(4) Byblos Red Wings at (1) Commenor Gundarks
(3) Druckenwell Marksmen at (2) Concordia Crusaders

Reminder that all Futures League teams are OFF next week; this corresponds to a week off in character. The Semifinals will be played the week of the ELL Conference Championships, Sunday, April 6.

TAG: Jedi Gunny Bardan_Jusik Vehn Runjedirun Tim Battershell CPL_Macja

 

GM Post

HSN's Limmie Morning Headlines

• The Hapes Consortium Buccaneers have fired Moira Mallory, effective immediately. No replacement has been named. A representative for the Queen Mother has said that a "galaxy-wide search" for the next C-Bucs head coach is underway
• The UB Telaan Valley Pioneers have secured their fourth Bak10 championship and Carnation Bowl bid in seven years with a win over the PCNS Rangers.
• Elite League Limmie released its postseason award ballot today. Nar Shaddaa led the nominations with 6, followed by Rydonni Prime with 4, and Euceron and Ralltiir with 3 each. The ballot is reprinted in full below.

Salbukk Award (Player most valuable to his or her team)

• Loren Jul (Ralltiir Starkillers)
• Mylessa McCloud (Nar Shaddaa Smugglers)
• Kasin Urdaaza (Ylesia Lightning)

Ingbrand Award (Rookie of the year)

• Jonathan Lieznam (Mando'ade Mercs)
• Bella Starr (Rydonni Prime Monarchs)
• Erin Windreaver (Nar Shaddaa Smugglers)

Langann Award (Coach of the year)

• Romo Benedict Crowley III (Rydonni Prime Monarchs)
• Tover Micjaa (Nar Shaddaa Smugglers)
• Trey Till (Ralltiir Starkillers)

Grames Award (GM of the year)

• Kaitlyn Vehn (Nar Shaddaa Smugglers)
• Martin Vigo (Ralltiir Starkillers)
• Aebett Zargana (Euceron Storm)

Duchess Eldin Award (Recognizing sportsmanship and athletic excellence)

• Alana Glencross (Bakura Miners)
• Vesper Lynd (Rydonni Prime Monarchs)
• Porrsk Rett'ii (Euceron Storm)

Zumtak Award (Recognizing perseverance and dedication to the sport of limmie)

• Niast Nan'lie (Euceron Storm)
• Kaitlyn Vehn (Nar Shaddaa Smugglers)
• Martin Vigo (Ralltiir Starkillers)

Comeback Player of the Year

• Abe Cynour (Rydonni Prime Monarchs)
• Jayla Leed (Nar Shaddaa Smugglers)
• Kasin Urdaaza (Ylesia Lightning)

OOC: Votes for season awards may be sent to me via PM any time between now and the end of the day on April 6. These awards are intended to reward regular season play and should not take playoff performance into consideration (though I can't stop you if you choose to let that influence you). You have one vote per category. You may vote for your team's players and staff.

TAG: Bardan_Jusik CPL_Macja jcgoble3 Jedi Gunny Runjedirun Tim Battershell Vehn

 

IC: Christine Gamble
Bakura Gardens, Bakura

The table was set for a good old-fashioned Senatorial Showdown between the Coruscant Senators and the Bakura Miners. Christine could tell from the atmosphere of the stadium that the fans were amped up and ready for this game. Both teams hated each other; maybe not as much as Mandalore and Nar Shaddaa, or Senators-Smugglers, but this was still a tradition-steeped rivalry that had plenty of bad blood. And the second-year corner had a feeling that this was going to be a tight one.

The Miners had come to play on defense. They were blanketing Maximus Qorbus on the block soon after he punched a ball into the goal for the Senators’ first points. The combination of Grap plus Zire cheating over every now and then stymied the Nautolan, who didn’t have any space to operate in. On his next possession, he tipped the ball as he tried to snag it and Grap took hold of it instead for the interception. It was obvious to Christine that this was only the beginning. She had defended Qorbus in practice when the shift was on. Reid Livingstone would sometimes have shifted over to the right, while Christine took the left corner slot. This took her from Cord McKerty, whose speed she could better match, with Qorbus, who had much more power and bulk to push through defenders. During a break in a practice, Christine had even asked the Nautolan how teams tried to defend him, since she needed to know for other teams with similar size. Qorbus had just laughed and said that whatever worked was what a team should go with. If there was sufficient pressure in all facets of the defense, it would work well enough to keep points from going up on the board.

The midfield was a complete war zone. Glencross and Pic for the Miners were hitting an equally-determined wall of Romax and Renhorn, with Mekmek and Chorba Hoosten mixed in. The Hapan former captain of the Senators was trying to scrap for every little bit of dignity she could find on the field, and Renhorn, despite hating Romax for the locker room schism weeks earlier that Christine hadn’t actually witnessed but had heard about, seemed determined to show up her teammate. Sometimes their lack of cohesion would allow the Miners to push the ball across the midfield line and into Senator territory, but their tenacity was enough to keep them alive despite the mistakes. Mekmek and Hoosten just tried to hold on as they took on the toughest midfield duo they had ever faced before. The Patriots hadn’t been nearly as good, or had the Monarchs at the position. But when you took on Alana Glencross, things usually didn’t go quite as planned. For rookies, that was doubly true.

With Qorbus blanketed, the Senators had to switch the offense up. Pamila Korthe started to make multiple substitutions, trying to stave off the Miner defense from figuring out a scheme and running with it. Sometimes two or three subs would come onto the field in one possession, the Zeltron doing whatever she could to keep the defenders on their toes. But things weren’t going smoothly early, since with Qorbus running most of the offense all season, him being taken out of the game hampered the Senator offense. Finally he took a past in the post, backed down Zire who had switched over, and then passed around the Talz full back to a waiting Thulius Jomas. The second-year pro caught the ball and stiff-armed Grap in the face as the Devaronian tried to take him down. Jomas then weaved through traffic and burned Lizbit Comstock with a beautiful pump fake to the left before burying a shot into the right part of the net. It was obvious to Christine that the production had to come from somewhere else if it wasn’t from Qorbus, so this is what the offense needed to do in order to stay competitive. They needed points, because the defense was being systematically ground down.

It was tightly contested going into the halftime break. Both teams had made some nice plays, but also some boneheaded mistakes that had let the other team make plays. Reena Wyley had slipped on her coverage of Niskat Deenever on a switched assignment and let the second-year player converge into the zone. However, she also made her presence felt when she stripped a Miners forward of the ball on a nice chopping motion as she came in for the tackle. Tank Bratter had missed a few tackles, but when he made contact, the opposing players felt it. The rookies on defense, Steen Roggers and Carder Blylock, were struggling against the Miner corners, who were getting good position and making things happen. Rookie goalie Nihal Toggs looked nervous, so the message of the halftime speech was to keep the time of possession in the Senators’ favor.

The second half was as brutal as the first. Both teams jockeyed for position, and a few fouls were called as the teams tried to one-up the other. Qorbus was still shut down, so the Senators had to find an offensive spark to keep them in the game. Dauza Chary was out of this game with a bruised sternum, so the half forwards all chipped in to get the ball moving. Jomas made a pass to Maff Biskis, the hero from the prior week’s game. The veteran sidestepped his defender and then punched the ball over the bar for a point to tie it up at 18. The Senators were getting production from all over, with six players having scored.

Finally, with the score 20-19, the Senators were in do-or-die position. Thirty seconds left, on the road, against the defending Galactic Cup champions, makeshift offense. It was the ultimate challenge, but Christine knew that the Senators could do it. This was a team that lived for the big moment, that always made a clutch play to stave off defeat. They could do this.

Biskis had the ball up high, and the Miners tried to prevent a goal. All the Senators needed was a point to tie. Finally he dumped it off to Zadd, the Defel who came around to relieve the human at the high post. Zadd then passed it off to Qorbus, who sized up Grap one more time as he decided to go into the post backdown. The Devaronian couldn’t stop the bulky Nautolan, and now it was a chess match between the two. Could Qoebus make a game-saving goal over his shoulder, or at least score a bar point? Could Grap hold his ground, or would he get help? Zire came over for the double, and Qorbus realized that he was stuck. There was only one place to go with the ball. He moved his arm around Grap and chucked the ball at Sorcha Styles, the Bothan full forward who had charged up the middle and taken up the space where Zire in a one-on-one situation would have resided. The Bothan’s foot connected with the ball, and it rocketed into the air. It clanked off the upright, but somehow had enough oomph to make it over. Game tied. The small Senator fan contingent went nuts. That’s what they wanted to see from their team, not the terrible performances against Ralltiir and Rydonni Prime.

Now the game was going into overtime. Undoubtedly this game was a real success for the league. Christine listened in to Korthe’s advice for her team. “We need to keep the ball, as we did during the first sixty minutes. I don’t know if we can keep stopping them on defense, so we need to hold onto the ball and score just enough to win. If we score two, then hold them to one. If we score one point, shut ‘em out. Keep them out of our defensive zone, and we can win this game. It’s fifteen more minutes for the playoffs. We want to be in, so win this, and we’re in.”

The overtime period had a promising start when Biskis punched through the Miner defense and sent a shot sailing over the bar. Fourteen minutes left, one point lead. Now the defense needed to hold.

On the next possession, a stop was made when Tank Bratter popped Deenever on a crossing route. The ball squirted free and hit he turf, so a mad scramble ensued. Abbey Waters, the reserve full back playing against her former team, dove for the ball, but Aron Rodders beat her to the spot. The decorated veteran sent a low line drive that glanced off Nihal Togg’s fingers and went into the goal for three points. It was like a fire had started in the stands, because the Miner faithful were energized now.

As the minutes passed by, and the crowd noise intensified, Christine started to wonder if they could come back from this two-point hole. The Miners were buckling down on defense, suffocating the emerging scorers for the Senators by bumping them off routes and, in some cases, flat-out holding. It wasn’t anything the refs would call, because the Senators had done much the same, so they were obviously letting these calls go. It was a rivalry game, so no holds were barred in some cases.

Three minutes left. Bar point by Morlan. Three point deficit. Minute later, Allesh scored. Four-point hole. Pass to Zadd from Renhorn picked off. Rodders played coy with Waters on defense. Christine thought these things quickly as her heartbeat sped up. The offense needed to get it together.

One minute. Toggs with the deflection. Push it up, team. Biskis to Jomas, tackle made . . . fumble? Fumble! Get the ball! Kick it away! No, not to the Miners! Stop them in midfield! Renhorn made a mistake. Costly error! Game slipping away . . .

And then the horn blared, signaling the end of the game. The Miners went crazy as they celebrated, but the Senator bench was subdued. They had gone from hope in the first game of the season to a complete wreck in Week Five, back to having hope after the Hapes win and then the Chandrila victory, and now smelled the stench of defeat once more. Earlier in the year, they would have been happy to get the year over with and move on, but when this game had meant so much, and they had battled so hard with a vastly inferior team, there was no getting over that. Christine sat on the bench for several seconds, the rage building within her. She could have done something out there today. Why did this injury have to torment her so? The Miners were celebrating; well, she would find great joy in the day when those same players were limping back to the sideline, their spirits broken and Bakuran grass rubbed in their faces from the hits she applied to them all sixty minutes. Someday the Senators would beat their rival. Someday they would win this game. And she would personally see to that. She wanted to see the Miners and their pompous attitudes brought back down. She was going to work that much harder this offseason, to make sure that the sting of defeat would lessen and eventually go away. She had yet to win a Senatorial Showdown. That was her goal for next year. Win this game in front of the home fans, and get a little payback.

“You OK?” Dirxx Horstse, the interim defensive coordinator, said.

“I could’ve done something out there,” Christine said, still staring straight ahead. “I could’ve been the difference.”

“You know, kid, I felt the same way when I first entered the league. But then I learned something real quick. Sometimes you just need to let the hardest losses go, and work that much harder to make sure the next time you win that close game. No one expected us to get to this point. Just take it in stride and work this offseason to get better. Look at me. I went from being a player no one thought would be any good, and molded myself into a Hall-of-Famer.”

“But you had a good unit around you. I have nothing,” Christine said.

“Well, it’s time to start building a defense that you can work with. That’s what the offseason is for,” Horstse said. “Buck up, Gamble. It could be worse. We could’ve gone 0-9, with a differential of negative 200. I think we did pretty well for having a makeshift roster.”

“We still lost,” Christine said.

“Don’t worry about the Miners,” Dirxx said. “They’re a good team. We played ‘em tough on the road. That’s all we could ask for from this defense. But all that concerns you is to get better. You’ve got a ton of upside. Put that into practice this offseason, and you’ll come out better than you were before. Trust me. I did my time in this league.”

Christine wanted to say something, but she knew the Besalisk was right. She was going to come back stronger than ever. The league hadn’t heard the last of Christine Gamble. This was just the beginning. These losses stung, but she was going to prove that they were flukes. This team could be better, yes, but Dirxx knew what he had during his career in ‘The Wall’. Contar, Fil’yer, Corvis, Inviere . . . he had the best wingbeings in the game to help him. When she had to carry the team by herself, they had failed. She needed help. And that would start this offseason. Gark S’rily wasn’t a passive GM; he would make moves. All Christine had to do was make sure that she was ready to step into her new role when the 277 campaign started.

“All right, help me up,” Christine said. Dirxx hauled her to her feet, and the corner back limped onto the field. She was going to give the Miners their one moment of sportsmanship as was customary. But the next time these two teams faced off, she was going to be at full-strength. And she was going to be hungry.

When the team got back to the locker room, Korthe talked to the team. “I want you all to know that we fought real hard out there today. As a coach, I couldn’t have asked for more. We overcame so much adversity this season to at least have a chance to make the playoffs. Let’s use this season as motivation next year to surprise some people. They’ll think we’re trash, that our time has come and gone. And we need to be there to tell them that yes we had a rough year, but we gained experience, we gained grit, and we gained toughness. Next year, we can be that surprise team. Just keep working on it over the offseason. Moves will be made, but if you keep yourself in shape, you’ll have a better chance of sticking around. Team dismissed.”

Christine followed the rest of the team out to the shuttle, limping as usual. The injury was getting a little better, but it still required crutches to avoid further damage. Despite her broken body, the fire of competition now burned in her more strongly than it ever had. She had seen the team fall apart without her in this game. They needed her out there. And she had to be ready to help them make that push. She had to get stronger, had to make sure this injury didn’t happen again. She needed to get in the best condition you could. Any little advantage she could get, she would do. Finally her comlink came out, and as she settled into her seat on the shuttle, she called a familiar number.

“Hey, Ava?” Christine said. “You have any plans for the offseason? No? Well, consider yourself joining me for a little offseason conditioning regimen . . .”


TAG: Trieste

 

OOC: I can’t possibly compete with Gunny’s excellent recap so I’ll take a slightly different path with my game recap…

IC: Falene Trieste
Bakura Gardens, Salis D’aar, Bakura

When a playoff berth was on the line, you laid it all on the line. Falene knew those words as surely as if they had been branded on her heart. And that meant that she was playing as hard as her muscles could hit the Senators, moving as fast as her legs would take her, and thinking as quickly as her mind could spin.

That was why there was absolutely no hesitation when she dove in front of Zadd’s try for an extra point. At 20-19, the Miners couldn’t afford the point. Not now. Falene would do whatever she could to stop the bolo-ball from finding its mark—and she did.

The bolo-ball collided with her face at high speed. She didn’t even know if she’d stopped it—all she knew was the impact. When her body crashed to the ground at the end of its arc she had to shake things off for a second. She heard a whistle and she staggered to her feet, looking to see if the officials were signaling a good point.

She clenched a fist in celebration to see that they weren’t.

Falene looked around to see what the stop in play was for—and discovered it was for her. “Okay, you’ve got to get off of the field,” the ref said.

“Whad do you dean?” Falene said, “Dat wad a good pnay!”

“You’re bleeding. League rules. No bleeding players on the field. You’ve got to get off,” the ref said. He signaled to the Miners sideline for a substitution.

“Do! I cad’t deave dow!” Falene protested. Then again, she was beginning to become aware of the warmth that was flowing across her upper lip. She quickly pinched her nostrils. “Id’s judt a buddy node!”

“Off now or you’re getting an unsportsmanlike conduct,” the ref warned.

That was enough for Falene. A free kick right now would be all the Senators would need to tie it up. She turned to hurry off the field and found that Han Tunross had already come over with a bunch of towels.

“Bend your head forward,” Tunross said, stuffing a towel under nose, “Keep the pressure on.”

“Head fordard?” Falene asked as she hurried off the field under the guidance of the team physician, “Nod back?”

“It’s countintertuitive, I know, but this keeps blood from going down your throat,” Tunross said.

“Wowcin! Play center!” Valerii was commanding her reserve, who was throwing off his warm jacket necessary for the night game, “Stay on Zadd! Don’t give him any room!” Falene was at the sideline at this point and the head coach was right there. “Tunross, did she break it?”

“I don’t know yet, it’s bleeding too much,” Tunross said, “Head up, straight at me. Keep this ice on it.” He pulled the towels away. He began to check Falene’s septum and the line of her nose. “Structurally looks good. Does it hurt?”

“I judt took a dolo-dall do my fade,” Falene said, “Yes it fradding hurts!”

“Rate it on a scale of one to ten,” Tunross said.

“Door.”

“Trouble breathing?”

“Do.”

“It’s probably not broken,” Tunross told Valerii.

“Someone get me another jersey!” Valerii bellowed, “This one’s covered in blood!”

“We don’t have another! We’ve only got one gameday jersey per player,” an equipment assistant said.

“Can she play in a bloody jersey?” Valerii asked the bench.

“If she couldn’t then Mercs-Smugglers would be played bareback with body paint for numbers,” Hulu said, “She can play—if the bleeding stops.”

“Snop de beeding den!” Falene demanded.

“Keep your head tilted forward, ice on,” Tunross said, “Can you play the rest of the game breathing through your mouth?”

“Des,” Falene said. She usually inhaled through her nostrils and exhaled through her mouth.

“I’m going to stick gauze up your nose once the bleeding goes down,” Tunross said, “If you breath hard through your nose you could blow it out and then you’ll have to sub out again.”

“Ged de beeding down!” Falene insisted.

“I can’t hurry it,” Tunross said, “Watch the game and take your mind off it.”

Falene didn’t like watching the game. It reminded her of how badly she wanted to be out there in these waning seconds.

“Does someone have a blow torch?” Valerii shouted, “Is there a Jedi with a pencil lightsaber? Anybody? Is there someone who can cauterize her damn nose?!”

The bleeding hadn’t stopped by the time Falene watched Sorcha Styles tie the game. It hadn’t stopped when the time in regulation ran out.


(OOC: To show you how my seasons come full circle, keep an ear open at 1:36. That’d be the Bakuran Mando who sang at the Coalition Memorial Game the last two years, and which happened to be the first game of the Miners’ season this year. Don’t believe me? Look at the same time mark in this video. Also, did not plan that. By the way, if you can get to the end of the game at about 3:37 of the music you'll have timed it pretty much perfectly, if you care about such things.)


The Miners came over to the sideline. Overtime. Playoffs on the line. Against Coruscant, without question their biggest in-conference rival. No two teams had played each other as much since 262 as they had. And now both teams wanted more.

Falene joined the huddle, still holding ice to her nose as she did so. The fans in the stands had, to a being, no matter what colors they were wearing, risen to their feet and were clapping and cheering. They were ready for overtime and Valerii had to shout over them.

“Okay! Who’s ready to be a hero?” Valerii yelled to her team over the din, “Somebody’s walking out of here a legend! Do you know how legends are made? Somebody decides that they are not afraid to grab the bantha by the horns! Somebody stands up and says that this is their day! No one becomes a legend by luck! You make your own destiny! Three weeks ago we never thought we’d be here! And now we have 15 minutes to go back to the playoffs to defend our championship!”

“They’re rookies!” Alana called out, “They don’t know how to play this! They’re going to be so scared of making a mistake out there! We need to be aggressive—force turnovers, take away time and space! We can do this! We’re the Miners!”

The team hollered in agreement, Falene with them.

Valerii looked up from where she was crouching in the middle of the huddle. “Aron. Do your thing.”

The assistant captain nodded without saying another word. Gaeriel Valerii had resurrected his career moving him back to Full Forward. Falene knew that he’d do anything Valerii told him to. Walk across hot coals, stare down a Sith Master, anything.

The team started to break up. Ponie and Thum hesitated. “What’s the lineup coach?” Ponie asked.

Valerii turned to Tunross. “Can she go?” she yelled over the crowd noise.

Tunross pulled the bloody towel away from Falene’s schnoz. He waited a second. “She can go. I need 20 seconds to get her ready.” He was already shoving compacted gauze up her nose.

“Ponie, off. Thum, you take the left. Fae, center,” Valerii said. She turned her attention back to the field where she was clapping and calling to her players, pumping them up. The Miner reserves were standing up on the bench and waving towels to tell the fans to do the same.

“Falene, listen to me,” Tunross said, taking her head in his hand to make sure she didn’t run off prematurely, “You experience any trouble breathing, and I mean ANY trouble, you sub off immediately. You hear me?”

“Deah,” Falene said, shaking her head in agreement.

Tunross slapped her on the arm. “Get out there.”

Falene jogged to midfield and the crowd seemed even louder than it had on the sidelines. Falene couldn’t remember a Truce Day game that had ever gone to overtime, let alone one against an opponent like Coruscant. The giant vidscreen was urging them on. The Gardens was trying to compensate for the fact that it was ten times as small as Senators Stadium by giving everything it had now.

Through the noise, Falene somehow heard her name. She turned to look at Wizmark, but found the source of the sound wasn’t her. It was her family, the part of the Noble House that was unabashedly Bakuran. The Lynds were on Rydonni Prime with Nessa and her children for the Patriots-Monarchs game. The Vehns were on Agamar to hopefully see their team win the Commissioner’s Trophy. But those relatives who were on the sidelines now, clapping and yelling to add to the crowd noise were all Miners. Ronan, Mandy, Antrose, Jane Serena, Enoch, Regan, Atticus, Quentin, Trixie, Declan, Ayn, and, most importantly, of all, Kerry. The former Chancellor had her hands cupped around her mouth as she yelled something—Falene didn’t know what. It seemed to her that her mother, who had stared down one Senate on Coruscant more times than Falene could count, was going to stare down this bunch of Coruscant Senators too.

The Senators broke in fast and furiously to start the overtime period and got the first score. The enthusiasm in the stands died down for a moment (though it got noticeably louder in the pockets of black and orange), but only for a moment. The Miner fans roared right back, refusing to stop giving their team a tailwind for this last push.

“Falene, catch!”

How she heard it through the vortex of sound and fury Falene would never figure out, but she picked up her goalkeeper’s trademark early warning and Falene broke into one of Hulu’s patented exit patterns. She caught the ball on the run, zipping past Zadd, and tossing the ball to Wizmark on a reverse cross. Nelly had open space and passed up to Glencross who stiffarmed Romax away. However, Alysha was not going to give up in overtime. With no space or time, Alana lobbed a ball across the field so that the taller Pic could use her height advantage over Renhorn to snag the ball. With Morlan running interference for her, Jolla got enough space to put a good pass up to Deenever. Niskat, so used to getting her way against opposing half backs, didn’t have any success against the Herglic who had covered her well. With his superior size, Niskat couldn’t hold the ball on impact.

For a moment that seemed like it lasted eons, the bolo-ball sat on the turf, up for grabs. Falene rushed forward, even though she was half a field away from it. It was one of those moments in a game that had the potential to decide everything.

It was a streaking Rodders who got there first, kicking the ball up off the turf and in front of him to catch neatly as a diving Senator defender reached for the bolo-ball to no avail. He turned around to face the goal and Toggs—his line of fire unobstructed. Rodders rotated the ball in his hands, readjusted his grip, and then stepped into a wicked sidearm sling.

The moment the bolo-ball came off his hand, half the Gardens screamed and the other half held its breath. No one knew if it was a goal in that second, but they all knew that this could be it, just like any moment in overtime could be it. Over a hundred thousand pairs of eyes tracked that ball as it screamed for the far side of the goal. Nihal Toggs dove and reached with everything the goalkeeper could muster.

And it wasn’t enough.

The Gardens erupted and Rodders pulled his hands across his waist in his famous belt move. Falene jumped in the air.

“DES!” she shouted, pumping a fist.

The Miners had the lead.

“Positions! Defense!” Alana yelled to the backfield.

The captain was right—there was still a lot of overtime left to be played and Falene was going to have to play it. Her team needed her now. The front six had done their job. It was time for her to close it out.

The Senators threw themselves against the Miners defense with brute force, trying to find any crack in their formation. The Miner defense had was swirling in their zone defense. It was dangerous, but everyone moved as fast as they could to close the gap before a Senator could make a catch or do anything with the bolo-ball.

And they held.

Not only did they hold, but they got the ball out of the zone. All they had to do was get it up to midfield. Once it was there, Glencross and Pic took over. It was them who moved the bolo-ball up the field for the forwards to bleed some time before they took easy, sure shots from the half forward line, driving the margin up inch by inch at Valerii’s command.

“Don’t get greedy! Bar point! Bar point!” the usually reserved head coach was shouting at her offense.

When the horn sounded, Falene fell to her knees and put her hands on top of her head. The Miners had survived the Senators and were going to the playoffs. No matter what happened on Rydonni Prime, they were going. The Miner bench stormed the field and the fans exploded. It had been the most thrilling Truce Day game that anyone could remember and they’d won it.

By the time Falene got to her feet, the media was already milling about for the Valerii-Korthe handshake. “Hell of a game, Pam,” Gaeriel said, “You get a full season with those rooks and they’re going to be something. See you at your house next season.”

Falene shouldered her way through the media, many of whom were snapping pictures of her in “the bloody jersey”. The crimson stain was just a deep discoloration on the blue, but where it crossed the gold accents it stood out in scarlet contrast. The Miners logo was covered in streams of cascading crimson. Eventually she made her way to her teammates with some other stragglers.

The other Bakurans on the team were chanting in unison as they clustered around Rodders:

“Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear
Sé mo Shéasar, ghile mear”

It translated to:

“He is my hero, my gallant darling
He is my Caesar, gallant darling”

Rodders had lifted them today. When the Miners needed him the most, he had answered the call with three goals on the day, including the overtime game winner. Valerii had asked for a hero and he had been that for them.

Falene was suddenly clapped on the back by an arm and suddenly found her mother next to her, beaming. She had put the other arm around Deenever. “Now that’s a game!” Kerry said, “That’s a game!”

Not caring for her blood stained jersey, Falene hugged her mother back. “De did id,” she said.

“You did it, Fae. You did it,” Kerry said, squeezing her daughter.

It was then that the fireworks started exploding in the skies over the stadium. Usually they waited for the field to clear, but the mood was too jubilant to not start the celebration early. The lights inside the stadium dimmed to almost black and they all turned their eyes to the skies as a rainbow of color streaked across the sky in bursts and explosions. Falene, without turning her eyes from the skies, was gradually aware of her family gathering around her. As she stood here on the greatest of Bakuran holidays, for the first time wearing the dark blue and gold of her homeworld, she could not have been prouder—not just of her teammates, but what they had given Bakura. What they had given her family. They had given them their best and it had been spectacular, as spectacular as the show that unfolded in the skies above them.

Happy Truce Day.

TAG: Jedi Gunny

 

GM Post

HSN's Limmie Morning Headlines

• The Corellia Rebels have fired Telena Perrette. Ownership promises Rebel fans they will "hire a first-class coach for a first-class organization."
• Hometown girl and Smugglers Defensive Coordinator Meredith Chambers sits down with Hapes C-Bucs for an interview for their head coach vacancy.

TAG: Vehn