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Star Wars Elite League Limmie [A Sports-based RPG, New Players Welcome]

Discussion in 'Role Playing Forum' started by Trieste, May 31, 2010.

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  1. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 4
    GM Post
    Coruscant

    "The Elite League is pleased to announce that, after careful consideration of the bids presented to the Final Site Selection Committee, the 271 Galactic Cup Final will be played on Ryloth at the home of the Rough Riders," Commissioner Kayl'hen announced, "We look forward to seeing everything that the planet of Ryloth has to offer as they become the center of the galactic sports world later this season."




    Bonus rolls to Bakura, Euceron, Mando'ade, Nadiem, and Nar Shaddaa this week.

    Week 5

    Euceron Storm at Vandelhelm Jets (12-28)
    Rydonni Prime Monarchs at Bakura Miners (17-5)
    Ryloth Rough Riders at Nar Shaddaa Smugglers (24-4)
    Nadiem Chiefs at Onderon Crazy Dragons (11-10)
    Thyferra Force at Mando’ade Mercs (35-19)

    Tag: @Bardan_Jusik @CPL_Macja @Dubya_Scott @jcgoble3 @JediMaster_1977 @Jedi Gunny @Liam_Vehn @Teegirloo
    JediMaster_1977 likes this.
  2. Bardan_Jusik Mand'alor - Manager of the EUC, SWC and Spinoffs

    Manager
    Member Since:
    Dec 14, 2009
    star 9
    IC: Beskaryc Taab
    Meshla Vhetin, Home opener. Manda'yaim

    There was nothing like opening day for Elite League meshgeroya. The pagentry of a proud franchise on display. The excitment of a loyal fanbase ready to start a new season. The determination of the players to see all the hard work they had put in during the offseason payoff at the beginning of a new campaign. It was this way for every team in the ELL, it always had been and always would be.

    Except in the case of this year's Mando'ade Mercs. The home opener for their 271 season came with over half the season already gone, and a playoff spot all but out of reach. Taab hadn't looked at the numbers. He really didn't need to. By the time the "home half" of their season started, it was already over for them. He shook his head behind a closed office door. He knew the play of the field determined the outcomes, but he couldn't help but be angry. The schedule for this season had been an absolute travesty, something that the league office should never have allowed to go through. But complaining about it wouldn't change things. Besides it really wasn't Taab's way. He would have to make do with having the head of the scheduling commitee killed. Quietly of course, so as not to arouse the ire of the aruetiise. Their strange morals never failed to confuse him, but they had to be accounted for.

    There were other accounts that would have to be settled. This season was proving to be more disasterous than any other in team history. Though the season had sold out before play even began, estimates were that over half a million seats had gone unfilled for the matchup against the Force. Half a millions ticket holders who could think of better things to do with their time than spend a day at the Meshla Vhetin, watching a game that they had already paid to see.

    Taab couldn't blame them, the product on the field this season had been abysmal, and the home opener had been no different. Another loss. If they could manage only four million seats filled for the home opener, Taab worried about what next week against the Smugglers would bring. Taab hated to do it, but it was time for a message to be sent, and for the first "casualty" of the season to fall. He commed out to the security personel outsuide his office door. "Have Jac-Ral report to me, now." The GM of the franchise, the man who had been so instrumental in its founding, and father of their team's premier player would have to pay the price for his folly.

    Word came back from bodyguards outside. "Sir, he is already here. And he is asking to see you!"

    Taab slid a hand under his desk and pressed the button which opened the doors to his office. "Send him in." As his old friend entered the room, in full beskar'gam, Taab grimmaced behind his own buy'ce. This was going to be harder than he thought. Fortunantly, it seemed the GM could tell of his discomfort. "I will save you the trouble. The team's issues are my fault, and I fully take the blame." He handed Taab a datapad. "This is my formal resignation as the general manager of the Mando'ade Mercs." He looked around the room. Though Taab couldn't see his face through his T-Visor, he knew the man's sadness.

    He had poured everything he had into making the Mercs a respected franchise in the ELL, and in one season he had destroyed it. Taab for his part simply nodded his understanding. At that Jac-Ral spun about and left, without another word. Now it was up to Taab to find a new GM, one who had the vision to restore the Mercs to respectability. It would be a difficult prospect, one made more difficult with the impending free agency of the entire offense. Players who had all been found by Jac-Ral Tan'Dar Kor'le.

    Too be continued...

    IC: Ryi Kor'le
    Home locker room, Meshla Vhetin

    Well it had been a good effort at least, thought the Mercs team captain as she tore off her jersey and threw it into the dirty laundry bin. Moving Vau to team aruetii had helped out the offense immensely, and though their offensive output had not been explosive the play of Mor'kesh had been head and shoulders above what vau had done recently. The former Rover had even put a few balls over the bar for two points during the game and had assisted Ryi on all seven of her points.

    Too bad the defense hadn't been able to keep up their end of the bargain. Katan had seemed rusty. In theory that shouldn't have been the case. The team aruetii concept should have kept him sharp as he had gotten regular playing time throughout the season. But this wasn't theory, and in the real world, high speed game of professional meshgeroya, his reactions had seemed slow and sluggish. Kii hadn't done much better for the moments when she was in the game. If anything she had done even worse. But Katan had been the starting goaltender and thus the loss showed up on his stat sheet.

    The team itself seemed devoid of emotion after the game. They had seen some of the empty seats during the matchup, and knew they were losing their fanbase. After last week's speech to the team, she couldn't bring herself to even try speaking to them all as a group again. The season was lost, the fans were turning against them. She knew it would only be a matter of time before her father was let go. Probably Coach Kal too. And all of this happening in her contract year.

    She wondered if she shouldn't consider signing with another team this offseason. She knew her fellow palyers were thinking the same thing. the fans wouldn't blame her for it, they were all mercenaries too. They understood the philosophy of following the money. But could she betray her own father like that? Could she look him in the eye as he tried to re-sign her and tell him no? Deep down she knew she couldn't, and she knew the "Nulls" couldn't either. For as long as Jac-Ral Tan'dar Kor'le was the GM, she would play for the Mando'ade Mercs.

    To be continued...


    [IMG]
    Last edited by Bardan_Jusik, Dec 2, 2012
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  3. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 4
    IC: Alana Glencross
    Office of Dr. Etie Calay, Salis D'aar, Bakura

    “We should have won that one,” Alana said, elbows on her knees, hands covering her face.

    “Why?” Dr. Calay asked.

    “We had a more experience team that had not been suddenly depleted of its most veteran and skilled players.” Alana held up one finger. “We were at home.” Two fingers. “I played my heart out and was as good as I thought I could be.” Three fingers. “What more am I supposed to do?”

    “If you feel that you played to your potential, then there isn’t anything more you can do,” Dr. Calay said, “That’s part of what I’ve been trying to tell you Alana.”

    “How am I supposed to be happy when we lose?” Alana asked.

    “No one’s asking you to be happy about it, but you can’t wreck yourself with every loss. It’s not healthy.”

    “So I don’t have to be happy, but I can’t be upset. That’s helpful,” Alana said with a roll of her eyes.

    “Alana, there’s an inherent tension here. If you take every loss hard then you’re never going to play the next game at 100% because you’ll be too broken up over the last loss. But if you were to stop caring about the result completely and just play for yourself, you’d be no good for to the team. You have to find a balance that works for you.”

    “You know, I had a balance. I was MVP. I think I was balanced before I came here,” Alana said angrily.

    “At one time, perhaps,” Dr. Calay said calmly, “but this season you clearly weren’t playing well. That suggests that something had come apart in that balance.”

    “So what am I supposed to do—go back to the player I was when I won the Salbukk? Turn back the clock?”

    “Well, that’s part of why we’ve been examining the pressures in your life. We’ve been trying to determine what it is that might have set you out of balance.”

    “Not much has changed for me. Not my relationships which you’re so intent on harping about, not my rituals and routines, nothing,” Alana stated.

    “You were named captain two seasons ago,” Dr. Calay pointed out, “That’s changed.”

    “We didn’t make the playoffs before I was captain. We haven’t made them yet since I’ve been captain,” Alana said, “It’s not like I’ve tanked the team.”

    “But you do feel a lot of pressure to turn the team around, don’t you?”

    “Of course I do,” Alana said. That was self-evident, wasn’t it? “That’s why I was made captain. I’m a part of the long term plans of this team. That’s why I have a three year contract with them. What kind of a captain would I be if I didn’t want this team to do better under my watch?” Alana asked.

    “Alana, in our sessions you’ve made it clear that you feel a lot of pressure to perform well on the field. Is it possible that being named captain is too much pressure for you?” Dr. Calay suggested.

    “Are you saying you don’t think I can handle this?” Alana asked, color rising to her face.

    “I think we should talk about it, yes,” Dr. Calay replied.

    “You’re a sports psychologist and you’re asking me this question?” Alana said, coming off the couch. “Don’t you know what this is going to say to everyone else? That I failed? That I couldn’t handle the responsibility? I might as well just tell the galaxy right now that I suck if I’m going to give up the captaincy.”

    “But what if the team would be better served by a different captain?”

    “Is the team better served if I declare myself to have failed before the entire league? To give them notice that Alana Glencross is past her prime already? That I just gave up? Their star midfielder couldn’t do it? They might as well just cut me right now!”

    “Alana, not everyone is cut out for being captain. What if giving up the captaincy would make you a better player, would win a championship?”

    “Kids all over the galaxy dream of being a captain of an Elite League team!” Alana persisted, “Am I just supposed to give that up?”

    “Did you dream about it as a kid?” Dr. Calay asked, “Would you be giving up your dream?”

    “No! Because I never thought I’d be doing this!” Alana shouted. And then she was quiet and she sat down. “Everybody has always seen more in me than I have,” Alana continued, no longer shouting, “My high school PE teacher who made me tryout for varsity. The college assistant who got me a scholarship to college. Roslyn when she recruited me for the Miners. Cundertol when he made me captain. Everybody has always had such high expectations for me and I’ve never felt they were right but I just kept going anyways. And now maybe I feel like they’re not right anymore.”

    “Alana, there is a theory that says that people rise to the level of their incompetence. It’s not a nice statement, but the overarching thought is that we all have limits and when we run up against them we have some very hard reminders that these limits exist. It’s very possible that you have hit your limits,” Dr. Calay explained, “It’s no shame to say you can’t handle the captaincy. To realize your limits and acknowledge them is a strength, not a weakness.”

    “What message is it going to send to everyone else if I walk away from this? To the team?” Alana asked forlornly.

    “That you care about the team and that you want to do what’s best for them, maybe,” Dr. Calay suggested, “I know it’s hard to fathom what feels a lot like giving up, but think about it this way: would you rather have them take the captaincy from you? Have you thought about what message that would send?”

    “That they lost faith in me.”

    “That is how a lot of people would look at it,” Dr. Calay said, “I just want you to think about whether or not you think the captaincy is hurting you, and the team, more than it’s helping either of you. Just because trillions of beings wish they were the captain of a pro Limmie team doesn’t mean that you have to want to be one.”

    Alana sighed. “Fine. I’ll think about it,” she said without sounding enthusiastic about the prospect.

    “By the way, I believe you leave for Thyferra in a couple days?” Dr. Calay asked.

    “Yes.”

    “If you have time tomorrow night, there’s someone I know I’d like you to meet. For relationship building.”

    “Does this being have all of their natural appendages?” Alana asked.

    “I can assure you that he is quite healthy. And, if it matters, Human,” Dr. Calay said. She extended one of her cards to Alana. On the back was written Verandah, 19:00. “I made a reservation for you both at Verandah for tomorrow night if you’re available.”

    “Fine. I’ll go. You’re sure he’s not going to make a scene because he’s having dinner with Alana Glencross?” the redhead asked.

    “I promise. He’s quite trustworthy,” the Omwati replied.

    “If he does, I’m making you reimburse me for the dinner,” Alana grumbled.

    Tag: None yet
    Last edited by Trieste, Dec 4, 2012
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  4. Bardan_Jusik Mand'alor - Manager of the EUC, SWC and Spinoffs

    Manager
    Member Since:
    Dec 14, 2009
    star 9

    IC: Beskaryc Taab
    Meshla Vhetin, Manda'yaim

    Taab stood behind a podium in the press room in front of the assembled press. Though they had not been told the reason it didn't take a hyper space scientist to have an idea of what today's announcemnt would be. Rumors had been flying on manda'yaim and throughout the league. The GM had stepped own. No he had been fired. There had been a battle circle and Coach Dar'tome had come out the loser and been forced from the organization in disgrace. Ryi Kor'le was calling it quits over her father's dismissal. The League would be demoting the Mercs next season due to this years abysmal play. Taab was selling the team.

    All of these and more were bandied about. In a league that was already in the midst of drama. Where a model franchise like the Senators could disappear in just a season, where the Chiefs might be sold to an owner that might take them off world. Where the newest franchise seemed to have a stranglehold on the league, it was one where anything could happen. Now they waited for the next shoe to drop.

    Taab spoke. "I have a short announcement. There will be no Q and A session afterwards." He looked out at them all through his T-Visor. He knew they would be disappointed at the lack of ability to ask questions, especially after they heard what he had to say. "Jac-Ral Tan'Dar Kor'le has tendered his resignation as the General manager of the Mando'ade Mercs. Effective immediatly."

    There were few gasps in the audience, this news was not unexpected, except by those who had believed in the wildest of rumors. "It pains me to make this announcement, Jac-Ral is one of my oldest friends and was instrumental in the creation of this franchise." Taab blinked hard as he said this, glad for the buy'ce that would hide his emotions from the vultures in the press. Jac-Ral and he had been together for a long time. It had been his vision coupled with Taab's wealth that had brought this team into being from nothingness. And now he was gone. Taab continued.

    "However, in recent months his vision of what this team is and what it could be changed. He saw our struggles the past two seasons as proof that we need fresh blood, aruetii blood, to take the next step." Taab paused for a moment and then went on. "He was wrong, and as such he saw no choice but to resign his position with the team. We thank him for what he has done for us in the past, but now it is time to begin to think on our future as a franchise."

    Despite his years of friendship with Jac-Ral, with that half of his announcement out of the way, the easy part was over with for Taab. Now came the hard part. "It is thus with great pride and hope that I will introduce you to the new general manager of the Mando'ade Mercs." Taab swallowed hard now as the bile seemed to rise in his throat. "She has been a leading executive for MandalMotors for the past decade. Before that she spent many years as an exceptional bounty hunter and a ranking member of the Mandalorian Protectors. I have no doubts that she has the skill and tenacity required to make this franchise a proud and respected member of the ELL in the near future. Ladies and gentlebeings, I give you Aay'han Vhett."

    As soon as her name was spoken the tall female mandalorian emerged from the shadows behind Taab. Her black and gold armor contrasting with Taab's simpler blue and silver style. He stepped away from the podium, alomost grudgingly if anybody was watching that closely. But no one was, they were fascinated by the woman who strode confidently forward and looked at them all through her own T-Visor. She reached up and unsealed her buy'ce from her armored collar and raised it up and over her head, giving the press and anyone watching the holo-news a view of her face.

    [IMG]

    "As you have just been told I am Aay'han Vhett and I am the new GM for the team. What you have not been told is that from this moment until the end of the season, everyone is to be evaluated. From the gihaal and uj cake vendors in the stands to the coaching staff every member of this organization will have to prove their worth, to me. If they are unable to meet my expectations, than the team will have no further use for them." She glowered down at the media now, it was a look that Taab knew all too well. He knew it was the reason she had taken off her buy'ce, in order to show them "the look".

    "Naturally I will be evaluating the players on the pitch as well. This will be a team built around Mandalorians and Mandalorian methods. No more weakness from team aruetii will be tolerated. Thus, while aruetiise will still be allowed to play for the Mando'ade Mercs, they will have to conform to our style of play in every way. I base my decisions on results, you either win or you go home."

    With that said she replaced the buy'ce on her head and stormed off of the stage. Taab stood and nodded to the media as they ran off to add their own spin on the story. He then made his way to his office. Vhett was already standing there there, waiting for him. Removing his buy'ce he sat it on his desk as he moved to stand behind it. He gave her that wicked grin that he knew she hated so much. She again took off her own buy'ce, placing it beside his on the desk, before uttering the words that would wipe the smile off his face. "You must be in one osikla mess to call your ex-wife in to help."

    IC: Ryi Kor'le
    Null Homestead, Manda'yaim

    Since their arrival on manda'yaim several years ago the "Null" vode had in many ways become very independent of one another. Though they had stuck together in others. One of those was their "compound" located in the northern wilds of manda'yaim. The homestead consisted of several small huts, one for each of them surrounding a larger central hut that was used as a common area
    and mess hall for them all. It was here that they watched the announcement of their new General Manager. As befitted her relationship with Kote, Ryi Kor'le was there as well.

    They watched in silence, taking in every bit they could from the new woman who would be their boss. When it was over they began to speak amongst them selves. They had of course known before the announcemnt that he had resigned. He had told his daughter the day it happned, and she had told Kote who had told his vode. They never could keep anything from each other, especially something as big as this. Still they were somewhat shocked. "I can't believe they got rid of your buir Ry'ika!" came from thell all in unison.

    "Buir fell on his beskad for the team. He did what he had to." Ryi said the words but she didn't fully believe them. She couldn't believe that her father had gone out like this, in disgrace. Now there was a new woman in charge of the day to day operations of the team. And it looked like she wanted to put her own mark on the Mercs. Well she would get her chance. She and the Nulls were all free agents after this season was up. It was something they were already discussing.

    "Ja'buir found us all, he made this team. Why should we stay if he is gone?" came from A'den. He was always the most fiery of the group. "I doubt any team has the room for all of us. What do you want to do? Split up?" was Fi's response. He was the glue that held the brothers together, and he seemed to be trying his best right now. Kote spoke up, he had in so many ways taken on the mantra of leadership amongst them. "To be honest I kind of got a nice taste of life without meshgeroya during the Great Quiet. I wouldn't mind making a living as a full time bounty hunter."

    His brothers and Ryi all nodded at that. The Great Quiet had opened their eyes to a whole new world beyond professional sports, and they had liked it. They had all felt it, like some of their best skills were wasted on the pitch, and could be better put to use as full time mercenaries. Cabur piped up "So...what do we do? All retire en masse at the end of the season?" He shook his head. "I really don't want to go out that way. I at least want to go out with my head held high."

    Ryi bit her lower lip. She loved the beautiful game, and she loved her father. Most of all she loved Kote. She knew that no matter what the group decided, the two of them would do their part together. But would his brothers follow suit? She also knew that the others would respect her position on this, no matter what she decided. "This is alot to take in. Let's do one thing at a time. Let's finish out this season first and re-evaluate then. Ms. Vhett says she wants to evaluate us? It's only fair that we return the favor." The smiles she got from Kote and his brothers told her all she needed to know. They were in, they would follow her and if they didn't like what they saw from the new "administration" they had their own options to choose from.

    TAG: No One

    [IMG]
    Last edited by Bardan_Jusik, Dec 4, 2012
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  5. JM_1977 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    May 23, 2011
    star 6
    IC: Zeke Barbosa
    Locker Room, inside Kala'unn Memorial Stadium

    "Is this seat open?", Zeke asked Qorbus.

    "Sure go ahead."

    He had just come out of a nice ice bath after practice to find out the Owner had called the entire team, coaches and players, into the locker room for a meeting rumored to have a big announcement. Usually meetings called by the owner either meant a coach was getting fired or a big announcement was forthcoming. Zeke hoped it was the later because he actually liked coach Mothker.

    "Mister Hot shot scoring 16 of our 24 points and against the defending Galactic Cup Champions. Not too bad for a Rookie."

    "Ya well I may not like working on a team and it may take me a while to break my habits but I'll get there. Maybe make the All-Star Game like you did."

    "Oh I don't think you want that", Zeke chuckled. He still had a sore spot for letting the giant lead the Gundarkades had in the ELL All-star game slip away. Being the Starting Goalie on that big of stage kinda put alot of pressure on you and apparently in the end Zeke couldn't handle it, but this year after being runner up in the GCLA title game, the Rough Riders were 5-0 and the team to beat for going to the Galactic Cup Finals. There had even been rumors and speculation by the Sports analysts on the HoloNet that Zeke was in discussion to win the MVP. Zeke couldn't believe it. Just another step towards his ultimate goal, living up to his father's name.

    Zeke had to admit it had been one of, if not his best season ever. Going along with the fact that he had only given up 61 points in the entire season, having 16 assists, and making a block 2 weeks ago that was said to be the play of the year. The rematch against Onderon this week was going to be that much more interesting with the Crazy Dragons being in Third place in the Skywalker Conference and also Zeke's girlfriend Jenna Leed, was The Dragons star Offensive player. His powers had doubled since the last time they met and she would definitely have her hands full.

    The echoing of voices in the locker room died down when Lenlla Horhek walked in and the meeting began.

    "Fellow players", she began in her high, but stern voice the left anyone uneasy. "This season, after the success of last season, couldn't be better. No one except for the people in this locker room thought we'd be undefeated, guaranteed a spot in the playoffs, with two weeks left in the season. We can thank the front office for drafting Mr. Maximus Qorbus with the first overall pick in the Draft."

    She made a gesture at Max, seated next to Zeke, and he stood up and everyone cheered. "Not only did he win the Helmsman in college, but he's in the talks for Rookie of the Year. Is there anything he can't do? I'll admit things got off to a rocky start with him but good thing we smoothed things out. And then there's Mr. Barbosa. If it wasn't for him we'd be giving up points left and right. He has had an outstanding season, especially holding the Galactic Cup champs to 4 points this past week. If he keeps that up we might have a Rookie of the Year and MVP on the same team."

    Light applause started when Zeke was mentioned and some of his close friends on the team even whistled a little, but Zeke tried to keep as humble as possible. The applause died down again and Horhek continued. "Well if things couldn't get any better, I just got off the phone with the Commisioner Kayl'hen, and it turns out that the Finals location committee has chosen our very own Kala'unn Memorial Stadium to host the the Galactic Cup Final."

    The Locker Room went dead silent. You could hear the drops of rain on the roof, since there was a Thunderstorm outside. "Well don't everyone jump up and down in excitement at once", Horhek said.

    It was like it was on cue. Everyone began roaring in excitement and cheering. There was banging on the lockers, jumping, players screaming, and many other things. It was almost as crazy of a celebration then when the Riders had won the Semis and found out they were going to the GCLA title game last season. Fifteen minutes passed before Horhek brought order back to the locker room.

    "Now being that we are 5-0 at this point in the season we have enough stress and media attention as it is. Having this announcement will only make it worse so you guys need to focus extra hard these next 2 weeks before the playoffs. If you do I have complete faith that you guys will go undefeated and play as the Home team in the Galactic Cup Final. Now Riders on three. 1......2.....3 RIDERS!!!!!!!

    TAG: No one
  6. Jedi Gunny Yahtzee Host

    Game Host
    Member Since:
    May 20, 2008
    star 8
    IC: Jayla Leed
    Mandalore

    Jayla fist-pumped as Riff Persnor, the Cathar forward, shot around the left end on a kamikaze blitz, took the feed from Dypral, and then rocketed the ball past rookie goalie Mij Katan to extend the Force’s lead over the Mercs late. She hadn’t had the best day in goal – still too many shots were getting by her, that was for sure – but it had been enough to get this far. “Looks like we’ve got this one sewn up today,” Reena commented as she stood near the goal.

    “I agree,” Jayla replied. She had to hand it to Reena; the Hapan rookie was playing out of her mind. Ever since that huge hit that had turned momentum in the Nar Shaddaa game, she had been on a hot streak. The Mercs hadn’t been able to figure her out all day, and thus went to other sides of the field, many times running straight into an angry Shayt Contar. A pissed-off Feeorin was the last thing many of them wanted to see, and she put in her fair share of hits on the clones. They were so mighty with their armor on, but without it, they were flesh and blood, and Shayt wanted to remind them of that. The rest of the defense had played OK. Not spectacular by any means, but adequate. 19 points wasn’t bad to give up, especially when your total was over 30. However, it was more points than Jayla would have liked; as she had seen the week before, giving up 20+ points with absolutely no offensive support (check that, no points at all) was equal to a huge loss. So on all accounts this was a great game, and a good momentum builder for next week.

    When the game was over, Riff had amassed 17 points, a new career high for him. At this rate, he was going to be in the running for the Ingbrand, since he was technically an Elite League rookie. When you scored over 30 points on a season, that put you on a watch list for awards. He had burned Katan, whom had been picked a spot ahead of Jayla in the draft, for five goals, most of which the rookie goalie had no idea on how to defend. It was just one of those days for the rookie, but Jayla got some satisfaction in seeing her counterpart struggle mightily in his first start. Now she wasn’t the only rookie goalie in the league having problems minding the net.

    “Hey, furr-ball, nice game!” Jayla yelled out at Riff. The Cathar didn’t notice her, as he was busy talking to old teammate Boggs Campbell, but he had probably heard her yell it. Jayla shook her head; the rare time she gave a compliment, the recipient didn’t seem receptive of it. That figured.

    “Hey, you didn’t look so bad out there!” Tonga Rute, the backup midfielder who had just made his first career ELL start, said as he came over to Jayla. “I mean, you were a little rough around the edges, but you finish nice!”

    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Jayla asked.

    “Hey, don’t look a compliment in the mouth,” Tonga replied. “You don’t get a lot of those, you know.”

    The team filed into the locker room, in a much better attitude than they had started the day. Players were laughing, others were talking excitedly, and yet others just looked content, not saying anything. Although the season had been a rough one, especially after the shutout pitched against them the week before at home against Nadiem, this had at least turned things around a little bit. And the team was going to take that through the rest of the week. Maybe they weren’t done just yet.

    “Great game out there,” Pamila Korthe said to her team when they were back in the locker room. “Now we’re 2-3, and at 2-0 in conference. We’re still hanging in the playoff race, so let’s get this thing done next week when we host Bakura. It’ll be our final home game of the season, so let’s go out with a bang, all right?”

    Jayla got into her street clothes and joined the rest of the team. She really didn’t like this place; it was just too . . . large for her. Thyferra Stadium, despite it being a little tiny for her interests, was at least cozy. This huge stadium was just too much for her, and the sooner she left the better. There was just something about large stages that she didn’t like, and at least now she got to return to a smaller venue. Sounded good.

    TAG: No One




    OOC: And now for something completely different . . .

    IC: Riff Persnor
    Shuttle to Thyferra

    “ . . . and that wraps up this edition of SportsCenter. Tune in next for Zoomball Live . . .” said the announcer. Shayt shut off the monitor.

    “I swear, those RoughRiders are killing everyone in this league,” Jerek Deter said, shaking his head. “Hey, Riff, you think your buddy Zeke there should get MVP this season?”

    “Maybe,” Riff said, shrugging. He was sitting in one of the chairs in the lounge area of the team shuttle. It had been the shuttle of the Coruscant Senators, but now the Force were using it due to the Senators being out of business. Although they had been astonished to see its size at first, the Force players had now grown accustomed to the shuttle; it certainly was a nice vehicle. “There are two more games left to be played, so anything can happen, obviously. But if he keeps this up, yeah, I think he has a shot. If that goalie . . . what . . . Chambers? You know, the one who we didn’t face off against in that game a few weeks ago . . . she won, what, three MVP awards, so I think Zeke can pull it off.”

    “He’d be the first rookie to do it since . . . Syanl,” Jerek said, scoffing when he said the name of the former Senators nemesis now playing in the GCLA for the Genet Vornskyrs.

    “You still haven’t gotten over that loss in the Finals, have you?” Shayt asked her former Senators teammate.

    “Of course not,” Jerek replied with gritted teeth. “We had that one, and she came in and took all of the awards home. Serves ‘em right to be playing in that third-tier league now . . .”

    “But I think Riff might be up for an award at the end of the season if he keeps this up,” Mychele Lysar said. She had sat out the previous game due to a concussion, and was going to miss the rest of the regular season with the injury. “I mean, 17 points in one game? I’ve never done that . . . ever. Not even in Pop Warner did I get something like that, and we’re talking about an Elite League defense here, not a bunch of JV high schoolers . . .”

    “He’ll have a lot of competition,” Jerek said. “For both the Salbukk and the Ingbrand. That Qorbus punk is getting hot as well, so now you’ll have to beat the crap out of our opponents next week to have any chance of getting on the list of finalists.”

    “I’ll just do what I can,” Riff said, shrugging.

    “Attention, passengers,” came a voice from the cabin. “The weather on Thyferra is looking rather nasty right now, so expect some slight turbulence. Please fasten your seatbelts and hold on.”

    “Oh, great,” Jerek said. “Nothing like having the wind knock you to the ground in a giant tin can like this. Nothing like it in the galaxy.” All of the players got up and headed to the seating area, where the rest of the team was filing in. “You know, man, we didn’t have any of these weather warnings back in the day,” Jerek commented when he saw Syprul Raches, another Senators teammate from back in the day. “We never had any problems. Thyferra certainly loves its rain, I can tell you that.”

    “Just hope you don’t have to play in it,” Syprul said back. His broken hand was healing up nicely, so he was going to be active for the game against Bakura in a few days’ time.

    “That’s true,” Jerek replied. “Very true.”

    The team took their seats. Riff sat down in the first open seat he could find, which was next to a sleeping Paz. The Rodian seemed completely out, so Riff decided not to disturb her since she wouldn’t like to be woken for the turbulence. Then the first shock hit the shuttle. And another one. And another one. The shuttle shook a little, but it wasn’t too bad.

    “Landing zone in sight,” said the pilot over the intercom. “Get out your rain coats, ‘cuz it’s a real soaker out there. Hang on tight.” Five minutes, and considerable turbulence later, the shuttle finally landed safely on the ground. All of the players grabbed their stuff and prepared to head off the shuttle. However, before the ramp could be lowered to let them off, Coach Korthe caught them all.

    “Wait up, guys,” she said.

    “What? Going to tell us that we forgot to bring our ponchos?” Jerek asked.

    “Very funny, Jerek,” Pam said. She looked serious; something was up. Riff bit his lip; he didn’t like to see the Coach have that look on her face. “I just got word that the last few days have seen some severe weather events all over the planet. Tons of rain, lightning, mudslides, you name it. They’re calling it the storm of the century, because nothing like this has occurred on this planet in over 90 years. Be safe getting home, and coming to practice tomorrow. I don’t want anyone harmed, got it?” The ramp then extended, and the players started to descend down the ramp. The rain hit them immediately like a demon, soaking them within seconds.

    “You know, this is the reason why I don’t like this planet,” Jerek said. “Too much rain.”

    “Just suck it up and get used to it, pretty boy,” Boggs replied.

    Riff slipped on a light jacket and made his way down the ramp. However, he stopped in the middle, causing a flow of his teammates to have to go around him. The “Storm of the Century”? What did that mean, necessarily? He turned around and went back up into the shuttle.

    “Yes?” Pam asked as she saw her All-Star forward come back up the ramp.

    “You say this has been happening for several days?” the Cathar asked.

    “Yeah,” Pam said, nodding. “And I’ve heard reports that there’s massive flooding. I just hope the stadium hasn’t been affected; that’s the last thing we would need, to be flooded out of our own field days before a big conference game . . .”

    “Do you know where?” Riff asked.

    “I wouldn’t go looking for trouble,” Pam said. “I’m just looking out for you, Riff. Don’t be ignorant and try to help out. You don’t even know what the situation is; all I’m getting is second-hand information.”

    “Where?” Riff asked, pushing his question again.

    “That’s just it. All over.”

    “Thank you,” Riff said. He now had a new prerogative; if there was flooding, he was going to be there.






    Riff stopped his speeder on the end of a block. In front of him, roughly a hundred feet away, was a lake. A lake in the middle of what was a typical suburban neighborhood. He got out, locked the speeder doors, and then made his way over to the “shore” of the lake. He could see a boat with two figures in it; they were obviously agitated by the tone of their voices.

    “We need to get back out there!” one of them said.

    “We were caught so unprepared for this event,” the other one, probably older, said. “We tell them that our volunteer forces aren’t sufficient for these kinds of storms, but no, they spend more money on those bacta freaks and don’t pay enough attention to the people losing their homes out here due to flood waters. It’s terrible, really, because . . .” he trailed off as they both saw Riff approach.

    “Stay back, sir. It’s not safe to be around here unless you’re on recovery crew,” the older man said, holding out his hand to stop Riff.

    Riff paused. “You guys need a hand?” he asked timidly.

    “Hey, you’re that Persnor fellow, the guy who plays Limmie, right?”

    “Yeah, that’s me,” Riff replied. Whatever that had to do with anything, he didn’t know.

    “Hey, I understand you trying to ‘lend a hand’ for five minutes and then leave with the media having gotten your picture in the disaster zone,” the older one said with a sneer. “I bet the paparazzi is on its way in a few, just to get some pretty pictures of their sports player doing his Maker-given duty to help out when he’s just faking it for press.”

    “Do you need a hand?” Riff asked, this time in a serious tone. “I can just leave, you know.”

    “We could always use another hand, boss,” the younger volunteer said, wiping his helmet visor with a hand. “Gray’s on the other end of the system, and Pochio’s boys aren’t going to be able to get over here fast enough if we find anyone. So we’re kind of all that’s out here right now until Lewis gets back into the lake we have here.”

    “How’s Lewis doing?” the older volunteer asked.

    “From the sound of it, he found a few people stuck in a house. Poor devils locked themselves in their attic, and when the water rose, they got trapped there. Lucky for them, Lewis got ‘em out of there before the entire house filled with water. But we need to hurry; there’s a lot of stuff that could happen if we don’t get going.”

    “All right, hop in,” the older man said. Riff stepped foot into the boat, and then it sped off. The younger volunteer was driving the boat, leaving the older one to stare down the Cathar. “Look, you’ll need to put on one of those helmets . . . safety protocol and all that . . . frak load of good that’ll do us out here in the elements, but whatever . . . a rain jacket, and some gloves. This could get messy in a hurry.” Riff did as he was told; the helmet was a little small for him, but it would be enough. Same with the gloves; they didn’t quite cover all of his skin, but he didn’t really mind. They would do for now.

    The boat coasted over the water like a glider, coasting with minimal wake left behind. Riff stared out at the scene in front of him; what had the week before been a well-conditioned suburb was now a lake. He could see the tops of several houses, but many structures were probably completely underwater by now. With the driving rain, it made for an extremely haunting scene. “It’s real bad this time around,” the young volunteer, Shwalter, said. “I mean, we train for stuff like this, but I never thought we’d actually have to do it for real.”

    “Take a hard look at that, son,” the older man, Biron, said to Riff. He pointed to the spire of a building sticking out of the muddy water. “That used to be a home of one of my childhood friends. We’d play up on that third floor all the time, and life was great. But now he’s homeless . . . guy’s got a family, and everything . . . gone, just like that,” as he snapped his fingers. “Makes you really think about life. It’s full of crap that can happen to you. When stuff like that doesn’t happen, you’re lucky, and when you aren’t, well, like these people, you have to adapt. It’s all they can do now. The Red Circle will help them out with disaster relief, but that only goes so far when you lose everything . . .”

    “Yeah,” Riff said. He really wasn’t paying attention now; his mind was off on what Biron had just said. He had such a privileged life as a Limmie player. What would happen if, in the blink of an eye, everything he owned was lost? He’d be cold and miserable, just like the people in the houses they passed. The intense feeling of anger and sorrow they must be feeling, he thought, to have to start over with just the clothes on your back. That would take a lot of courage, something Riff figured he would never be able to do.

    Then, he picked up on a sound. It was very faint at first, so he listened for it again. Several seconds passed with baited breath for him as he waited. Then it happened again. His head snapped up in the direction the sound was coming from. “You hear that?” he asked.

    “Hear what?” Biron asked, annoyed. “I didn’t hear nothing. Look, kid, I know you’re trying to help, but you need to follow our lead. We need to hear . . .”

    “Help!” came a yell. Biron cut his sentence short. “I heard that,” he said.

    “Someone’s in trouble,” Riff said.

    “Where?” Shwalter asked, squinting into the driving rain. “I can’t see anything in this weather, especially not with this helmet. My visor is getting fogged up so fast out here . . .”

    A crash of lightning struck far off in the distance. Riff squinted, and saw some black shapes on a structure not too far away. He couldn’t tell how many of them there were, but he pointed. “Over there!” he exclaimed. “Go South a little bit!”

    “You certainly have your directions down,” Shwalter said. “Going south, and hopefully not in more than one way . . .”

    The boat sped over in the direction Riff was pointing. He could finally see some dark figures on top of the water. They were waving their arms frantically, and the boat finally pulled up next to them. It was a group of four, a mother and her three children. The woman looked up at the boat crew, who looked back at them.

    “Ma’am, stay still,” Biron said.

    “What’s the problem?” Riff asked.

    “You never know what’s below the surface,” Biron said, motioning to the water. If we run into an edifice, we could start taking on water. That would end our little trip short, and we’d all be washed up without any help.”

    “Hurry! The water’s rising!” the woman screeched. Riff couldn’t really tell the expression on her face, but she seemed terrified. Her three children, all of them young, looked frightened by the ordeal.

    “OK, we need a plan. Shwalter, you have that rope?” Biron asked.

    “We lost that over the side when that wave caught us off-guard an hour ago,” Shwalter said.

    “Great, just when we need it most . . .” Biron said, rolling his eyes. “OK, new plan. Kid,” he said to Riff, "you’re going to have to grab them and bring them to safety. We’ll get you as close as we can, but then you’re on your own. I hope you’re strong.”

    “Get me close. I can do this,” Riff said. A passing thought crept into his brain; this was easily the hardest thing he had done in a long time, possibly ever. All of those Limmie practices, the two-a-days in college he hated, those were nothing compared to this. Lives, including his own, were on the line here, as the water was rising fast around them. By his estimate, he would only have about five minutes to complete this task. Shwalter moved the boat as close as he could, and Riff stood up. “Give me your hand!” he said.

    The woman picked up her youngest child, who looked to be about two years of age. The boy was bawling his eyes out; the poor kid was traumatized by this whole event. Riff held out his arms, the woman was able to hand her son over to Riff. The Cathar struggled to maintain his balance as the weight of the boy plopped into his arms, and he had to stabilize himself. When he got his footing, he leaned down and handed the boy to Biron, who then placed him under a blanket they kept on the ship to help shelter those they had found from the pouring rain and wind. Riff turned back and brought in the other two children, who at least seemed conscious of his efforts to save them from the roof of their house. Biron took both of them and placed them under the blanket with their younger brother. “Hurry, kid!” he urged Riff on. “We’re running out of time. If we don’t hurry up, she’s going under!”

    Riff leaned over, his arms still out. “Come on, I can lift you over here,” Riff said. The woman shook her head. “Come on, we don’t have time for this!” Riff said. He was starting to panic now; what was this woman doing? She was endangering herself by not moving, especially with the water really starting to rise now. He moved his hands to try and give her the message that she should hurry up. Finally, she looked down, and then back at Riff. Then she tried to get into his arms. One of her legs got into his grasp, and he was just about to fully support her in his arms when she slipped. She let out a scream and fell into the water.

    “Woman overboard!” Biron shouted. “Where’s the life preserver?” Shwalter started to dig frantically in the pile of gear.

    “I can’t find it!” the younger volunteer shouted. “We must have left it back at base!”

    Riff looked back at the two men. They certainly were trying, but it would probably be up to him on this one. Then he looked at the children; all three of them were looking up at him expectantly. Their faces pierced his soul deeply; if he didn’t take action, they were going to lose their mom. All of a sudden, thoughts flooded back into his mind. He remembered that day in his Dad’s speeder on the way to school oh so long ago. How he had been pleading for his life with his drug dealer right in front of Riff’s eyes, and then how much pain had shot through his mind when he had seen his father lying on the concrete, stone cold dead. He had never gotten over that, and he probably never would. And if he didn’t do something quick, these kids would have to go through the rest of their lives knowing that their saviors hadn’t been able to save their mother. So, without thinking, Riff threw off his helmet and jumped into the water. Perhaps he was crazy, but he wasn’t afraid.

    The initial splash of water on his face was bone-chilling. Although his head had been out in the elements for half an hour already, the pure volume of water that was now surrounding his body just seemed so much colder in this substance. It was like walking into a freezer after a game on Tatooine; it was just that cold. But Riff wasn’t going to let that bother him; his eyes were set on the woman’s body as it drifted downwards in the water. The woman was flailing around in the water, trying to find some floatation. But it was to no avail. Bubbles came out of her mouth as she tried to breathe, but that was useless. Riff scooped her up in his arms and then tried to get to the surface. Right then, a solid current hit the two of them, and Riff struggled to hold his breath. He was running out of air! It was like an overtime Limmie game, except that instead of it being on a field, he was submerged in freezing-cold water. Summoning all of his strength, Riff gave one final push upwards. This had to be the one, because he wasn’t sure if he could stay under much longer.

    Riff’s head burst above the water, and he gulped in that fresh air in droves as he tried to settle his system. The woman also was breathing in deeply, also coughing to get the water out of her lungs.

    “You OK?” Riff asked, panting.

    “I’m fine,” the woman replied, winded.

    “Here!” Biron said, reaching his arms over the side. Riff passed the woman on to the older volunteer, who reunited the woman with her children. The looks on their faces brightened up considerably; they thought they were never going to see their mother again. Biron looked back at Riff, and then extended his hand. The Cathar grabbed hold and was hauled back up into the boat, where he collapsed in exhaustion while he caught his breath.

    “That was amazing!” Shwalter exclaimed.

    “Did what I had to,” Riff said, sitting up.

    “Should we head back to base?” Shwalter asked Biron. The older man didn’t reply for several seconds.

    “No,” he finally said. “We need to keep looking. In storms like this, you can never be sure all of the people are evacuated. Keep going; if we turn back, we may regret it later.”

    “Got it,” Shwalter said. He threw the boat in reverse, and soon they were headed off back in the direction they had come.

    Riff slid over to the family draped in their towels. They were all soaking wet, as their blankets had been exposed to the elements for some time, and they all looked stunned. Riff understood immediately; they had lost their home, and probably all of their possessions, in that house, and now to barely be rescued . . . that must be hard psychologically. “You OK?” he repeated. “That was quite a nasty fall you had there.”

    “We are, thanks to the three of you,” the woman said. She grinned weakly. “You’re my heroes. And theirs,” as she pointed to the children, who were all looking up at Riff with large eyes.

    “Hey, we did what was necessary. Nothing more,” Biron said. “We don’t deal in heroism, ma’am. Just doing our job. But, if you want to thank someone, thank the kid over there. I’ve underestimated him; he’s quite the guy.”

    “It had to be done,” Riff said once again.

    “I guess Limmie players aren’t all a bunch of spoiled, whiny brats,” Biron said in an off-hand manner.

    “You play Limmie?” the woman asked.

    “Yes I do,” Riff said. “Starting Left Corner Forward for the Thyferra Force.”

    “You the All-Star?” asked the oldest child, about six years old. Riff nodded. “That’s so cool!” the kid said. Her face lit up immediately. “I got rescued by a star Limmie player!”

    “Make sure to thank this nice man,” the woman said. She turned back to Riff. “I’m sorry about that,” she said sheepishly. “They can get pretty excitable at times. They’ve always dreamed about meeting a Limmie player, a pro one. And now they can . . . except I don’t think any of us wanted it to be under these circumstances.”

    Riff put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Trust me. I know,” he said slowly.

    “Hey, we’ve got some debris coming towards us!” Shwalter shouted. Biron went over to the side to take a look, and Riff looked back at the woman.

    “Guess that’s my cue,” he said. He then joined Biron at the side of the boat. He could make out something floating towards them in the water. As it came closer, Riff came to the cruel realization that he’d rather not know what it was. Biron just stood there.

    “Maker’s sake,” he said slowly, clearly shocked. Turning his head to look at the woman and her children, he could see that they were anxious to see what the debris was. “Don’t look!” he shouted. “Whatever you do, do not look!” But it was too late. The eldest girl looked over the side and saw the “debris”.

    “That’s funny. It looks like a mannequin!” she said. “Must be from the department store!” Boy was she wrong.



    “I said don’t look!” Biron said. Riff looked down at the debris. It was a body. The skin was clammy to the touch, and when the body was flipped over even Riff didn’t want to really look at it. The eldest girl screamed and hugged close to her mother; it was a gruesome sight. It was a young woman, about 21 years of age . . . and she was clutching a baby in her arms. “Check its pulse!” Biron ordered. Riff checked the baby for a pulse. Nothing. He tried to push on its chest, to try and revitalize it. Nothing happened. He even tried CPR, which he had learned a little bit in college as part of a PE course. He couldn’t do anything. The child, like its mother, was dead.

    “They were drowned. That’s the only explanation,” Shwalter said quietly.

    “Let it go,” Biron said, putting a hand on Riff’s shoulder. “ The scavenging crew will be through here in a few days. I’d do more, but I can’t traumatize them . . .” he gestured to the family on the boat, “any more.”

    Riff laid the infant’s body back into its mother’s embrace, and then Biron gave the body a swift kick away from the boat. It was a terribly callous thing to do, but Biron was doing the right thing; they weren’t looking to scavenge. Their job was to search for people who were still alive, and if having the bodies of the dead on the boat endangered their lives at all, that would be worse. So, moral or not, it had to be done. Riff looked over at the little girl. She was sobbing profusely in her mother’s embrace. The feeling that had accompanied Riff’s father’s death was now surging through the Cathar’s mind. He couldn’t escape that mental image now; it seemed to be ingrained in his brain.

    “Hey, kid, what’s the matter?” Biron said, shaking Riff out of his stupor.

    “Nothing,” Riff said abruptly. “Nothing at all.”

    “It really hits home for you, doesn’t it?” Biron asked.

    “Yes,” Riff finally said. “Very close.”

    “I’ll leave you alone, then,” Biron said. He joined Shwalter by the helm, leaving Riff alone. There was nothing he could have done; those two were long-gone. But the feeling that he could have done some miraculous healing power to at least resuscitate the child didn’t leave him, and he sat there for the next several minutes tormented by what he had just experienced. None of his Limmie training had ever prepared him for such a sight. It was just that feeling of being helpless in the face of great adversity, and he didn’t know what to do. He stared out at the water, completely devoid of thought. Everything in his mind seemed cloudy, like he really didn’t want to think of anything.

    He sat there in quiet contemplation for at least the next hour, until he could feel the boat run get to the edge of the lake and the familiar motor cadence quit. “Hey, kid, we’re back at base,” Biron said, touching Riff’s shoulder with a hand. “You going to be all right?”

    “Yeah, I guess so,” Riff said.

    “Look kid, if it makes you feel any better, you did all you could back there. You can’t save everyone.”

    “That’s the problem,” Riff replied sullenly. “I never can save anyone.”

    “I’ve been in this business a long time,” Biron said. “I’ve seen a lot of things you don’t want to see. But you know something; I don’t let that stop me. I’m driven on by the thought, the joy, of finding someone alive in these ruins and getting them to safety. Because then they can go on with their lives. That’s all the satisfaction I need. So buck up, because we need your help right now.” Riff accompanied the older volunteer off the boat and over to a small group of men standing in a semicircle on the land. It looked like a small bluff that they were parked on, one that extended quite a ways above the water. It was enough to have established a boat office on the water to run as dispatch call center during emergencies, and several other small boats like the one Riff had been in were also tied up on long, silver-colored pikes that were dug into the ground of the bluff.

    “Biron! Any survivors?” asked a man whom Riff guessed was the leader of this whole operation.

    “We found four, sir,” Biron said in a gruff tone. “That’s it. We patrolled for an hour.”

    “Hm, this is looking grim,” the oldest man said. “We’re not finding many people out there. I know the evacuation totals, and we can only account for about seventy percent of this neighborhood in the Rec Circle and fire brigade relief centers. Plus the hundred or so people we’ve found over the last two days . . . but that’s it. That leaves a lot more missing, and I’m getting worried about them.”

    Behind the volunteer formation, Shwalter was helping the woman and her three children off the boat and onto dry land. The woman gave Shwalter a huge hug, most likely for saving her life.

    “Anyways, we have a new mission, men,” the leader said. “Dispatch wants us to do some clean-up efforts out on South Shore. I know it’s a ways away from here, but the water has receded enough there to make salvage operations a go. A new crew will come in here in a few hours and continue the search, but I was given direct orders by the Commander to head over to the Shore, so we best hurry.”

    “You know, you don’t have to go if you don’t want,” Biron said to Riff as the men dispersed to their respective boats. “You’ve done more than enough, as far as I’m concerned. You don’t have to impress anyone; I think you’ve got the most guts out of any of us today. I never would have jumped in there after that woman; doing what you did, that’s something special.”

    “I’ll stay on board and help out with the clean-up,” Riff said. “It’s the least I can do.”

    “All right,” Biron said. “Shwalter, let’s get it revved up!” The younger man was able to get the family to safety with the dispatch center, and then hopped into the boat and started the engine. Within seconds they were off again, racing through the water.

    An hour passed by without anything really saying anything. Riff just stared out at the bleak skyline, covered in mist and rain clouds. The rain was driving harder than ever now, making sure to keep the three occupants of the boat soaked to the bone. But they pressed on, trying to not care about the state of their bodies. All that was important was the prospect of saving a life or two on the other end. Riff drifted off to sleep, somehow staying upright as he did so.

    He shot awake later as he felt the boat slow to a stop. Biron and Shwalter hopped over the side, and Riff joined them. In front of them was a complete wasteland. It looked like no man’s land, a war zone that had been scarred by thousands of artillery rounds shot into its ground. The wreckage of houses were everywhere; the first thing that Riff stepped on was a piece of a front door. He picked it up in his fingers; the fragment was covered in mud, so he wiped it off. The color of the door had been blue, obviously, and he inspected the piece. He knew there was nothing to be gained out of it, but that didn’t stop him from just contemplating what it meant. This had been the door of someone’s home, someone who may or may not have the rest of their life left in front of them. Given the widespread destruction sprawled out in front of him, they might not be able to care now. Biron tossed Riff a pair of heavy gloves.

    “What are these for?” Riff asked.

    “Clean-up,” Biron replied. “Things are going to get a little muddy, so keep those things on.” Riff did as he was told, slipping the heavy gloves on top of the soaking-wet gloves he had been given earlier. Pressing those closer to his skin sent a chill through his body, and he grimaced slightly. That was bitter cold.

    Riff began to dig through a pile of rubble that was near his feet. Pieces of wood were scattered throughout the debris, as well as some electrical circuits. A smashed comlink was in the wreckage as well. Nothing to salvage here, Riff thought. So he kept on going. This went on for about half an hour, the rain still coming down on top of the salvage crew.

    Finally, while he was digging through the remains of a house, Riff could hear someone yell.

    “I’ve got one!” came a voice a distance away.

    “Sounds like they’ve got a live one!” Shwalter shouted. “Come on!” Riff joined him and the two went over to see what the commotion was about. They could see another rescue crew member put his hands into the rubble and begin to tug. Finally, the others could see a hand and some arm coming from out of the rubble.

    “Help!” the man said.

    Shwalter and Riff ran over and began to clear debris. Some pieces of it were rather heavy; from the looks of it, mostly foundational pieces. Gradually, more of the arm came into view, and finally a body. The person was still breathing, but the crew knew that they had little time to act. They had to extract this person from the rubble. Riff frantically grabbed more pieces of rubble and tossed them aside. He tried not to think about it, but all of this was terribly ironic. A being built a house to live in, and yet that house was trying to kill them through live burial in its ruins. Finally, they extracted the man, who then collapsed in a heap on the rubble. “You all right?” asked the rescue crew member. The man nodded weakly.

    “Get him back to base,” Shwalter said. “We can take it from here.”

    The rest of the efforts were a blur for Riff. It seemed like all of the destroyed houses he poked through started to blend together. Once-proud structures were now an endless stream of destruction, leaving twisted wires hanging out in the air and foundation pieces standing higher than the rest of the house that had once laid on them for support. What a mess this storm had caused. Riff’s gloves became grimy and brown as he sorted through the mud-coated debris, trying to find anything salvageable. But the receding water had taken a lot with it, since he wasn’t finding anything of much consequence.

    Finally, three hours later, Shwalter came up. “It’s going to get dark soon, and we can’t bring in the flood lights. We have to abandon our search for today.” Riff nodded somberly; he had hoped to find someone alive in this mess, but in the four hours he had been there, he hadn’t found a single trace of life. It truly was like a war zone, and none of the inhabitants seemed to be alive to tell the tale. He sat in silence on the boat back to the edge of the lake, not interested in saying anything. There was nothing he could say, frankly. It was one of those times where words just couldn’t describe what he had witnessed. And that thought of the bodies floating in the water by the boat still haunted him. He just couldn’t get that out of his mind.

    When Riff got back to his speeder, the water had gotten dangerously close to it. He fell into the driver’s seat and just sat there for twenty minutes in the darkness staring at the roof. He was gassed. Finally, he was able to get the speeder in gear and head home. However, instead of studying game film like he sometimes tried to, he went straight to bed. Its plushy comforts were a relief for him, but it took a while to fall asleep because of the lingering thought that so many beings didn’t have a home to return to like he did.




    Thyferra Stadium at Byree Clearing




    The blizzard was on at Thyferra Stadium. The freak weather events, which had started with rain the week before, was now turning into snow as the temperature dropped. Riff stood out on the field with his teammates, clad in his blue Force uniform with the rest of them. On the other side of the field were the Bakura Miners, dressed in their road whites. It was going to be hard to see them at times on the field, as their whites were too close to the color of the snow to make it easy. That was going to make things interesting. The grounds crew had cleared up the field as much as they could, but the snow was falling fast and furious now. Riff could only hope that he could make do given the circumstances.

    “Ladies and gentlebeings, we would like to have a moment of silence for all of those who have lost their lives in the last week due to the raging storm, and to all of those who are now homeless,” said the PA announcer solemnly. The stadium, which had been quiet already, got even quieter. Riff could hear the wind howl around him, blowing snow in his face as it did so. Several moments passed, and then the PA announcer came back on. “Thank you. Also, we here with the Force would like to thank our own starting forward Riff Persnor for his contribution in the clean-up efforts in Kingwood and South Shore.” Applause thundered down from the stands as Riff raised his hand in acknowledgment. He hadn’t done that for the glory; he had done it because he felt the need to help out those who were less fortunate than him. Ever since pictures had been released of the clean-up efforts, Riff had been getting all kinds of calls from strangers thanking him for his service in the rescue crews. An especially-gripping image was of him, clad in full rescue gear, taking a young child to safety. It had set off a small firestorm in the media, of course. They were all hung up on it not being true, because anyone could easily modify an image to fit their cause. But they were in the minority; for the people of Thyferra affected by the storms, to see one of their Limmie players helping out in the mire of old neighborhoods, that meant everything to them. It showed that someone cared.

    When the teams dispersed to their respective sidelines, Riff came forward to meet at the center of the field. With Mychele Lysar, the acting captain, out with a concussion, Riff was now de-facto captain on his reputation alone, plus then his playing ability. Across from him was Alana Glencross, her flame-red hair easily evident in the blowing snow. The referee tossed the credit chip up into the air, and it landed down in the small snow bank starting to form itself on the field. Glencross called it correctly, and the Miners were going to start off with the ball. Riff didn’t blame her for doing that; in these kinds of weather conditions, one had to score first and then hunker down to protect the lead as much as possible. Smart play. The two captains shook hands and then went over to the sidelines. Riff looked at his fellow fourteen starters.

    “I know most of us don’t want to be playing here today,” he said. “Especially myself, after what I’ve being doing this past week. But we need to give everyone here on Thyferra something to be proud of. We need to show them that someone cares, and that we won’t back down. These Miners are coming in hot, and they’re going to play us tough out here today. But we will stone-wall them today, because we can! Don’t give an inch out there on defense. Offense, let’s light up that scoreboard. Sarya, Tonga,” he said to the two rookie midfielders who were going to be starting again today. “This is going to be a tough one today. Glencross and North maybe are the best midfield combination in the league. They will tax you physically out there, so play smart. We don’t need big plays today; just make sure you hold your position and don’t give up anything without them earning it. Offense, we need to run that wing-T to death today; keep the ball on the ground and make the Miners chase after us. Keeping it in the air will only lead to our defeat. Now, let’s finish this one off and get another victory.”

    The team broke the huddle and then headed out to their respective positions. Riff lined up across from Adanna Inviere for the Miners. He had to do a double-take, because even her hair was starting to get lost in the snow. Great, he thought, just great. That was going to make visibility even more difficult. When the whistle blew, the Miners put the ball in play. The snow started to slow down a little, but it still seemed to be howling rather fast at times. This was going to be interesting.
    Last edited by Jedi Gunny, Dec 5, 2012
    Trieste, jcgoble3 and Bardan_Jusik like this.
  7. jcgoble3 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Nov 7, 2010
    star 4
    IC: Marte Nalo
    Location: HSN Euceron studio, Eusebus, Euceron
    Time: Fourteen minutes remaining in Week 5 away game against Jets

    Cedkin used the temporary stoppage of play to take a short breather before continuing. "Sundqvist will take the free kick, and he'll clear it out of the defensive zone. Euwinge comes down with it for the Jets and runs. Pass to... Koles, who took a hard shot there from Chalporrin. Jets retain possession as Naymyth picks up the ball. Now to Montador, who's hit as she shoots but manages a point over the bar. Here comes Phil Brooks and he's not happy. A bit of a shoving match now as—here we go! We have a fight! Players going at it on the field now down by the Euceron goal as the refs try to break it up. When was the last time you saw something like this, Marte?"

    "I honestly can't remember, Cedkin, as now it appears that even Haron Orus has been pulled into the melee. It does look like the refs are beginning to get the two teams separated, though there's still a lot of jawing going—and Gorrkabukk just threw Phil Brooks through the goalposts! I knew Wookiees were strong, but I didn't know they were that strong."

    " 'Wow' is all I have to say about that. The refs and coaches able to keep the Jets from retaliating for that, and as the teams make their way back to their benches, the refs will sort this one out. Let's take a closer look at the fight while they do that and see if we can find what started it."

    "Well, Phil Brooks clearly thought a foul should have been called on the hit on Montador, but the refs disagreed. He pushes Morray, who delivered the hit, Morray pushes him away, and Brooks just responds with a punch and the fight's on."

    "We'll take a look at the end where Brooks was thrown over the crossbar in a minute, but right now it looks like the referee is ready to hand out penalties. Looks like... Phil Brooks will be ejected, as will Gorrkabukk... and that's it. So after all that fuss, just two players ejected. As Brooks continues to complain to the refs about the hit on Montador, let's take another look at him getting thrown over the bar."

    "Yeah, looks to me like Brooks was still attacking a couple of Storm players, and Gorrkabukk just had enough. He picks up Brooks by the leg, spins one-eighty, and launches him to Coruscant. I think it's a miracle that Brooks wasn't hurt on the landing."

    "I agree. We're ready to resume play here as Andwol clears it downfield."



    Time: End of game

    "And that will do it. Final score, Jets 28, Storm 12. Marte, as we discussed at the top of the show, this is your last game with us after the better part of three seasons. As you move on in your life, what do you think will be your most memorable moment from your time with HSN Euceron?"

    "I think it's going to have to be today's fight. To put it simply, how often do you get to see a Wookiee score a point with a Human ball?"

    Cedkin couldn't contain his laughter. "Yeah, Marte, that was a sight, though I can only wonder what the League office is going to have to say about that. I'm Cedkin Terron."

    "And for the last time, I'm Marte Nalo."

    "I'll see you back here next week for a non-conference game at the Monarchs. Until then, so long!"

    TAG: @Trieste (for the League's response to the fight)
  8. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 4
    GM Post
    Coruscant

    Esther Gondorf had heard that when Kerry Trieste had been a politician on Bakura that her sister, Siona Lynd, had been known as "the Hammer". As both Senator and then Trieste's first Minister of State, aggressively pushed Trieste's agenda with such ferocity that she'd earned the moniker, among many others.

    Gondorf cursed her luck that the title had already been taken because she would have liked to have it herself on days like this.

    "Good afternoon, gentlebeings," Gondorf said, "The League has reviewed footage from Game 21 between the Vandelhelm Jets and Euceron Storm and an altercation that occurred in that game. The League is suspending both Phil Brooks of the Jets and Gorrkabukk of the Storm will both be suspended for their Week 6 games and their pay for that game contributed to the Fund for Player Safety. Thank you."

    Tag: @jcgoble3
  9. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 4
    IC: Alana Glencross
    Final approach to Thyferra
    Two days before game day

    “You know,” Alana shouted over the turbulence that was buffeting the shuttle, “I do so love a nice ride in the country!”

    The severe weather conditions that parts of Thyferra were currently experiencing were not making the descent into the planet’s atmosphere very enjoyable. Weather or no, the Miners were expected to be on planet to play their game against the Force unless told otherwise by the League and there had been no communications to the contrary.

    “Is anybody seeing this?” T.K. shouted, looking out his viewport.

    They were starting to break through the clouds and the Miners peered out for what was their first look at Thyferra for a lot of them. Bakura was traditionally thought of as a wet planet. It had large bodies of water and a more-than-average amount of rain over the course of a standard orbit. However, Thyferra wasn’t simply wet—it was waterlogged.

    “Maker,” somebody said, “Is this normal for them?”

    Though they were still high up, it was clear from the large muddy water that things were not what anyone would call normal.

    “No,” team physician Tunross said, “I’ve been here before. This is a disaster. Literally.”

    “Frak,” Gaeriel Valerii said from her seat, “This is worse than we heard. Are they even going to be able to play this week?”

    “Hell if I know,” Tunross said, “If Quinn were here he’d just ask if the stadium was underwater or not. As long as it wasn’t he’d want the game played.”

    “Hey, where is he anyways?” Alana asked.

    “Chandrila. A&M versus Citadel University tomorrow. He’s taking an express shuttle here after the game,” Valerii replied.

    Alana looked back outside the shuttle as they came in for landing. “The stadium better not be this wet at game time.”



    Thyferra Stadium at Bree Clearing
    Game day



    “I think I liked it better wet,” Alana muttered as she shifted from foot to foot in the tunnel waiting to go out on the field for the start of the game.

    Of course it would snow. This would be the Miners’ second game in the snow in the last two seasons after the “Winter Classic” on Euceron. But hey, the Miners had won a low scoring affair there so perhaps it wasn’t all bad.

    Their game plan had been altered by the conditions. Ground game today, short passes, and short close-in shots on the goal. The wind was going to be too much a factor if they played up in the air. That meant that Alana would be playing a more classic midfield set rather than her traditional offensively-minded play. The scoring would fall largely to the Corner Forward line today for the Miners with some help from the Half Forwards.

    “It’s going to be an ugly one today,” had been Valerii’s opening words after the pregame warm-ups.

    Alana was wearing a long sleeve thermal shirt underneath her jersey today as well as leggings and gloves. She didn’t like it, but she didn’t have a choice in conditions like this. Nobody was going to have much choice here about anything.

    Out on the field, the snow muffled some of the crowd noise, or so it seemed to Alana. Thyferra Stadium was sized a lot like Bakura Gardens, and if they were anywhere near as loud, then the snow was definitely having an effect. This was going to be a battle between these two teams alone. And the implications were huge. The winner would almost certainly have a playoff spot sown up.

    The Miners observed the moment of silence for those who had died in the floods. It was an uncomfortable position to be in: the road team on a planet coping with devastation. You were automatically the “bad guys” if only because everybody wanted to see the home team win. Well, the Miners had never been especially liked by other Elite League fans so they might as well be the ones to take this.

    At midfield Alana shook hands with fellow All-Star Persnor and today’s captain. “Good work down there,” she said referencing his flood relief efforts, “Really good work.”

    “Bakura, you get to make the call,” the ref said.

    “Heads,” she replied.

    The ref flipped the credit chip, which gyrated wildly in the snowy wind. When it fell, everybody had to get down and squint at it to see what it was—after they found it in the snow that was already starting to collect on the field despite the best efforts of the groundskeepers.

    “Heads it is. Bakura, do you want to receive or defer?”

    “We’ll receive,” Alana said. Ordinarily Valerii preferred to defer, but instructions had changed today. A strong start was important given the conditions and she wanted the ball first.

    “Good luck,” Alana said, shaking hands again with Riff. We’re all going to need it, she thought.

    Back at the sideline, the Miners were in their huddle—possibly for warmth. Valerii was in the middle.

    “We’re going back to basics, you all know that. Ball possession, close shots, physical play,” Valerii shouted over the strengthening wind, “We’ve got five games under our belt. We know each other, we trust each other.” She stopped. “Anything to add Captain?”

    This last comment was directed at Alana. “We got this,” Alana said. She gave Wizmark, who was shivering next to her, a friendly whack on the back of the head. “Weather’s the equalizer. Do your thing and we got this.”

    “All right, let’s go!” Valerii said, breaking the huddle and clapping.

    It was going to be a hell of a game. Now Alana just had to keep her mind on it…



    Veranda Restaurant, Salis D’aar, Bakura
    Five days ago

    Alana arrived at the restaurant, albeit somewhat reluctantly. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. But if she was going to do it, she’d do it in style. Her Mom had told her from a young age that you didn’t wear red if you were a redhead. Well, Alana sometimes wasn’t very good at following directions, which is why she’d gone with a red dress tonight. After all, Veranda was not exactly your neighborhood diner. If nothing else Alana had to give Calay credit for good taste.

    “I believe the reservation is under Glencross,” she told the hostess.

    “The other party has yet to arrive,” the hostess said, “Would you like to wait at the bar?”

    “Alcohol sounds like a great idea,” Alana replied.

    “Right this way.”

    At the bar Alana sat with her back to the bar so she could look out at the restaurant and maybe see who it was her shrink had set her up with. She kind of wished that he was missing a limb, just because that would make him easy to find. Now she’d have to keep guessing. In fact, that was probably—no, there was his girlfriend. So not him. Or else the doctor and Alana were going to have to talk about appropriate practice for this sort of thing.

    “Something to drink?” the bartender asked.

    Alana turned slightly to look at the bartender. “Yes.”

    The bartender waited patiently for a couple seconds. “Anything in particular?”

    “No. Surprise me,” Alana said, “That’s kind of the order of the evening.”

    “All right. Hey, are you—?”

    “Yes,” Alana cut him off.

    “Cool. You know, you probably should have played a little more being-to-being last game against Rydonni Prime,” the bartender said.

    Alana rolled her eyes and turned back. “Everyone’s a critic,” she sighed.

    “You’re telling me,” came a familiar voice, “In fact, I seem to recall someone being especially hard on me grading my seventh grade math quizzes when we passed them around.”

    Glencross turned to her other side to find her old schoolmate Niall Kirt leaning against the bar.

    “Niall! You would hold that against me, wouldn’t you?” Alana said with pleasant surprise.

    “I think I deserved at least a half point for the process on several of those questions,” Niall continued.

    “As if you needed them, Mr. Overachiever,” Alana retorted.

    “You know, the last time I saw you, I think you were just coming off some major Limmie triumph,” Niall said.

    “Well, if that’s the case, you haven’t seen me in a few years,” Alana said.

    “I keep up with the team. It hasn’t been all bad. If they hadn’t reformatted the playoffs you would have gone both of the last years,” Niall said.

    “Thank you for reminding me,” Alana said. Luckily her drink arrived at this moment. It was bright green. Maybe she shouldn’t have given the bartender free rein with that.

    “Hey, can I get an Old Fashioned and pay for hers?” Niall said to the bartender. He slid a credit chip across the bar.

    “Sure man,” the bartender said.

    “You don’t have to do that,” Alana said, “Truth is that I’m meeting someone here and that nice drunk blonde you were with the last time I saw you would probably get jealous.”

    “Truth is that drunk blonde has been gone for quite some time, even though I can’t exactly remember who you’re talking about, and furthermore I know,” Niall said.

    “You know what?”

    “That you’re here to meet someone,” Niall said. He then produced a small card, which he handed to Alana. It read Dr. Etie Calay.

    Alana looked from it up to Niall in astonishment.

    “Frak me,” she said.

    Tag: @Jedi Gunny
  10. Vehn Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Sep 14, 2009
    star 4
    IC: Vincent Cutter
    Mesh’la Vhetin, Mando’yaim

    Inhospitable.

    Crowded.

    Noisy.

    Intimidating.

    Four words that would best describe Vincent Cutter’s initial reaction to arriving at Mesh’la Vhetin. He could never get used to playing in front of a crowd that wore tin cans on their head, sported blaster rifles over their shoulders, and seemed to make a strange, guttural laugh, when one of his players was hurt. The environment on Mando’yaim was downright hostile.

    Today, from his spot on the sidelines, Cutter could see that despite the Mercs terrible record, they had a sizeable home crowd. That was better than he could say for the showing at Six Boroughs last week. The fans of the Vertical City were a fickle bunch. Win and you were gold. Lose and nobody would be digging through the trash to find you. 1-4, that was where the Smugglers found themselves. A lousy record, especially having beaten the odds to take home the Galactic Cup last year in a miracle run for the ages, but, that was the way the cookie crumbled sometimes.

    Today was an important match up. It would help decide which franchise, the Mercs or the Smugglers, would be awarded the first round pick of the 272 draft. Several hot prospects were rumored to be declaring for the draft including a stud Full Forward by the name of Andres Fortune, but his friends called him “Mr. Luck.” Mr. Luck was coming out of UC Bella Vistal. Cutter liked the tape he had seen on the kid. Had all the intangibles and would definitely be an upgrade over the aging Helena Forsythe, assuming the Smugglers could get into position to nab the guy.

    Cutter knew that other teams were gunning for Mr. Fortune. But only two would have a realistic shot at nailing him. He thought back to last year’s draft and the way the Mercs had climbed for Mij Katan. Katan was looking like a rook out there. But so was Gunba Pemiti, and she had nearly eight years experience on him. Pemiti had lost a step. That much was certain. But the way the opposing teams had game planned against the Smugglers had been to take away their lethal offensive unit. A unit that had been pretty effective last season in dispatching the Monarchs and the Jets en route to the Cup. Something was wrong there, but Cutter couldn’t quite figure it out. He had kept the same unit together, the chemistry should’ve been lock step, but now he was beginning to question his motives.

    The Smugglers GM watched the players warm up on the sidelines. They had the look of a team that had lost its way, lost its pride. He would never admit this in public but maybe tanking the rest of the season was the thing to do. Secure a first round pick and shore up some of the weaker parts of the roster. The two guys that he’d drafted last year were showing the early signs of being complete busts. Part of his mind urged caution, restraint, didn’t want to throw that label around too quickly. But he was starting to be concerned. With nearly a full season underneath them, Darkrider and Edwards, former teammates at The Ord Sabaok University, just were not gelling with one another. Maybe it was the pace of the pro game, or maybe other teams had demonstrated that they were poor choices by the Smugglers organization.

    That responsibility fell on his shoulders. His scouts had brought in all the necessary information and he had made the decision that was thought to provide a solid midfield for the next decade. Time would tell if his picks would pan out. After all, you didn’t build a perennial power house overnight. Some years you won, other years, like 271, well, you just lost.

    The whistle blew and Cutter continued to remain on the sidelines. He knew the Mercs organization was also in turmoil. Knew that they were questioning their decisions to allow foreigners, areutii, Cutter corrected himself, to play the beautiful game. Mij Katan seemed to show a few flashes before throwing the game away. Maybe clones weren’t all that they were cut out to be. Even supermen had bad days.

    So he would stand there on the sidelines. Watch his team play. Watch a battle for the basement, the right to pick first in the upcoming draft. There was a lot at stake here. Pride, egos, money, and the future of both franchises. As Cutter watched his Smugglers play the first series, he looked down at the grass, thrust his hands into his suit pockets, and shook his head slightly. Throwing the game was against the rules. To get caught doing it would surely mean the end of his professional career.

    But damn. It was tempting, wasn’t it?

    Tag: @Bardan_Jusik
    Bardan_Jusik likes this.
  11. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 4
    GM Post

    Crunch time, ladies and gentlemen! Crunch time!

    Bonus rolls to Bakura, Euceron, Mando'ade, Nar Shaddaa, Ryloth, and Thyferra.

    Week 6 Results
    Euceron Storm at Rydonni Prime Monarchs (25-32)
    Onderon Crazy Dragons at Ryloth Rough Riders (26-8)
    Nar Shaddaa Smugglers at Mando’ade Mercs (8-29)
    Vandelhelm Jets at Nadiem Chiefs (5-14)
    Bakura Miners at Thyferra Force (32-16)

    And the playoff picture begins to crystallize...more on that in OOB once I do stats.

    Tag: @Bardan_Jusik @CPL_Macja @Dubya_Scott @jcgoble3 @JediMaster_1977 @Jedi Gunny @Liam_Vehn @Teegirloo

    --EDIT--

    HSN SPORTS PLAYOFF PROJECTIONS

    After an in depth analysis of Week 6 Elite League action, HSN is prepared to project the following:
    • Ryloth Rough Riders have secured first round bye in Skywalker Conference
    • Rydonni Prime Monarchs have secured first round bye in Solo Conference
    • Bakura Miners have secured home game in Galactic Cup Quarterfinals against Thyferra Force
    • Euceron Storm eliminated from playoff race
    All projections are unofficial.
    Last edited by Trieste, Dec 9, 2012
  12. Jedi Gunny Yahtzee Host

    Game Host
    Member Since:
    May 20, 2008
    star 8
    IC: Jayla Leed
    Thyferra Stadium

    Jayla was, simply put, freezing. Whatever cruel deity had sent all this snow on them certainly thought that a blizzard would be a good way to settle this Elite League game. Although Jayla had only been standing out in goal for three minutes, she was already feeling her feet sticking to the ground. What a mess this was.

    Bakura was bringing the ball up the field. Alana Glencross dodged Thyferra rookie Tonga Rute and set up her forwards with a solid pass. Dorf Landa bowled over Villie Bywash, but for some odd reason, didn’t toss the ball in Jayla’s direction. In fact, he didn’t do anything. Jayla looked at him like he was crazy; she had never seen something like this. He could easily challenge her with a shot in this situation. What was up with him?

    She then heard a crackling sound. It sounded like a nice warm fire, the kind that she would like to be near to warm her hands in this situation. But then the cracking got louder. Play had almost completely stopped, although Pasla Tesh came in to try and clean up Landa and poked the ball loose. It skittered into the ever-rising snow, and then simply stopped just like the players. They were all wondering what was going on.

    “Jayla, MOVE!” Tonga yelled from the middle of the field. Jayla could barely hear his voice over the din of the falling snow. She looked up, and to her horror, she saw a light pole starting to lean out of position. The crackling sound got louder, and finally, with a huge groan, the pole began to fall towards the field. Jayla, not thinking, grabbed a hold of the crossbar on the goal and hauled herself up. The pole came to a crashing halt on the field only feet from where Jayla had been standing, the bulbs smashing on impact and causing sparks to fly in an extraordinary show of pyrotechnics.


    “You OK?” Tonga said, running over.


    “You know, I don’t think things can get any worse,” Jayla said, holding on to one of the vertical bars on the goal to stabilize herself on the crossbar.


    It took about half an hour to move the light pole from its resting place. The grounds crew, many of the Force players, and a few Miners all worked together to move the pole off the ground, since it was an extremely heavy item. The snow didn’t help, making the going treacherous for all involved. Tonga, while he grasped one of the hooks on the pole, slipped and landed on his face. Baul Sdent, who was holding the other side of the pole in that spot, almost dropped his grip as well. Jayla had long-since gotten herself down from the crossbar, but she didn’t help with the light pole. Instead, she tried to warm up her hands. This break in the action was the last thing she needed.

    And boy was she right. The Miners, using the snow to their advantage, put a blizzard of points up on the board. Landa and Rodders were especially deadly, burning Jayla time and again. It was looking like another terrible performance by her, a momentum-breaker after an OK game the week before. How much more could go wrong this season for her, the rookie goalie with so much promise?

    When the final horn sounded, which was rather muffled in the howling wind, Jayla walked off the field in disgust. They had blown a chance to stay in the hunt for the Division Title, and now their playoff chances had taken a huge hit. Things couldn’t get much worse, could they?

    On the other side of the field, Riff Persnor threw his gloves down onto the snow in frustration. The Miners had shut him down, only allowing him to score 4 points in the game. Although teammate Maff Biskis had a breakout game with 8 points, it hadn’t been nearly enough to secure a win.

    The mood in the locker room was quiet once again. No one felt very cheery, not only because of the weather but also because of the blizzard, the Miners, and the light pole. Their season was slipping away from them, and none of them knew what to do. Add in a trip to Rydonni Prime the next week, and things were looking especially bleak.




    Coach Korthe made her way into the main seating area of the team shuttle. Her players looked rather lifeless, and she couldn’t blame them. They had lost a huge game, but it had meant more than that. They had failed to win one for the people of Thyferra, and that weighed heavily on many of their minds. She could only hope to brighten their days up a little.

    “I have an announcement to make,” she said. All of the players looked up at her, many of them not really caring. Man they were a defeated bunch.

    “I know we lost that last game,” Pam said. “And I know we should have won it, because we have the talent. But we can’t excuse ourselves with that; talent does not necessarily mean wins in this league. In the Premier League, we could win with talent. Here, we need to play solid ball and be a team. I need all of you to play this final game with conviction; we have a lot to prove. Anyways, I hope this will cheer you all up. With Nar Shaddaa losing yesterday, we have wrapped up a playoff spot in the Solo Division.”

    There were several moments of silence that followed. And then someone soke up, ending up with a cascade of cheers. The team that had once been silent as a grave was now raucous. Their performance this season wasn’t pretty, but maybe this was the shot in the arm the team needed right now.

    “Now, we’re most likely going to end up with the third seed,” Pam continued. “Our loss yesterday prevents us from winning the division title, and the Miners now own several tiebreakers against us, so we’ll probably have to head to the Gardens once all is said and done. But the main thing is that we’re still alive in this thing, and although I don’t think it really matters how we do next week against Rydonni Prime, give me your best game, because we need momentum. This game is all about guts, and you need to show me that you can put this last game behind you and move on to next week with no ill effects. That is all.”

    Perhaps it wasn’t the best motivational speech ever given, but a playoff spot was certainly a good bargaining chip to use to fire players up. Now they just needed to go out with a bang the next week, and then bust some heads in the playoffs to show everyone that the Thyferra Force was still a Force to be reckoned with.

    TAG: @Trieste
  13. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 4
    IC: Alana Glencross
    Thyferra Stadium at Bree Clearing, Thyferra


    Alana didn't like the snow. Sure it got wet on Bakura. Sure it got cold. But not this cold.

    Even so, she was holding up all right. The Miners' simplified gameplan was going over pretty well thus far. Thyferra seemed to have gone a similar direction with their game, so this was just a matter of whose will was going to be stronger. The Miners' hadn't completely abandoned their passing game, but they had scaled it back. Instead of long bomb passes, they were going with short zone passes today. Alana wanted to be involved in the scoring, but that wasn't the game plan so she just needed to hunker down and do her job. That's what those therapy sessions were all about, right? In keeping with today's strategy, she gave a short shovel to Landa, who did his usual impression of a grav train through a member of the Force. And then he pulled up short, much to Alana's surprise.

    That was when she heard the crack and thensaw the swaying light pole. "Look out!" she shouted, but her words were whipped away by the wind.

    The pole seemed to fall in slow motion towards the Thyferra goal and Jayla Leed. She watched in horror as it seemed that the rookie goalkeeper was about to get smashed. But somebody got word to her and in an impressively acrobatic move she jumped up and out of the way by way of the crossbar. Damn, she's got a heck of a vertical leap, Alana thought. It was something to keep in mind when shooting on her.

    Alana and some of the Miners went over to the downed pole and just kind of stood there and looked at it. One of the refs came over and she looked at it too.

    "So, uh, what are we gonna do?" Alana said as the snowflakes fell around them.

    "I dunno. This is a new one for me," the ref said, "Think we can get this off the field?"

    Already some groundskeepers were running over to look at things. "We're gonna get this thing outta here. A little snow doesn't stop us here," the Thyferran said.

    "All right, let's do this then," Alana said.

    "Really?" the groundskeeper said, "Don't you have a game?"

    "Hey, it's what anybody'd do, right?" Alana said, "You'd help bail out the Gardens if they ever got flooded, right?"

    Landa, Inviere, and Uncia from the Miners side joined in the effort. It was hard work and Alana had to be careful to make sure she didn't strain anything in the process. "And here you probably thought the hard part of your week was over," Alana grunted to Riff as they carefully moved bit by bit off the field with their heavy burden.

    "Hey, Red, let me tag team you out," one of the reserves said, tapping Alana on the shoulder. Three others did the same for the other Miner starters. Alana jogged back over to the Miner sideline where the starters had warm, long jackets on and Valerii was using the extended timeout to lecture the troops.

    "Nice showing out there guys, but we've got a game here," Valerii said, dead serious, "We've gotten a look at what Korthe's drawn up for them and we're gonna make a few tweaks here and keep the starters fresh. Now, this is what we're gonna do..."



    The truth was that there weren't too many changes that the head coach wanted to make. She kept their game the same. "Keep pounding them, we are going to crack them," she said.

    And the Miners did. The Rodders-Stormborn-Andersen triumverate had their way against the Force. Rodders in particular seemed to be thriving in the snow with an astounding four goals and two points over the bar, but with all the scoring concentrated up front, the ladies to either side of him were having career days. Andersen was looking like the superstar that she'd been on Nar Shaddaa. Stormborn seemed to be getting better and better with every game she played at corner forward. Sure, the Miners were taking their hits, but everyone seemed to be paying off with points.

    On the back end, Wizmark was warming to the cold conditions exceptionally well. She'd been a question mark for Alana going into the game: could the rookie cut it in the adverse conditions? The answer seemed to be yes. For Alana's money, she'd shown tremendous growth this season. In any other season she'd be a lock for an Ingbrand nod, but the Draft had brought in a shocking strong class of rookies that put such that in doubt.

    Alana had no points on the day, but she couldn't have felt better about her play. She'd executed her part in the game plan well. Not flawlessly, but pretty darn good, and it felt great. The whole game Alana was pumped by how well the Miners were performing and, unlike some other games where the Miners pulled away, Valerii kept her starters in for the entire game. With the adverse conditions the head coach didn't appear to want to risk putting in new players who could take a while to get adjusted to the snow.

    When the final horn sounded, the Miners were all smiles and they gathered in a bunch to congratulate each other. It was smiles all around because they knew what they'd done today. They were going to the playoffs after two years in the wilderness. It would be Alana's second trip to the Galactic Cup Playoffs and her first as captain of the Miners. It was only a start--they'd won no championship yet, but everybody knew that anything could happen. You just had to get in first. They were in now.

    Coming off the field, Valerii was outside the tunnel in her parka to give everyone a high five. Alana came off the field last.

    "Way to go Red," Gaeriel said.

    "Way to go yourself coach," Alana replied with a grin, "We're walking this road together."

    "Damn straight Red. Damn straight," the coach said.

    As Alana headed for the warmth of the locker room, she had a feeling this was going to be a good week in therapy.

    Tag: @Jedi Gunny
  14. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 4
    IC: Alana Glencross
    Exiting hyperspace en route to Nar Shaddaa

    The moment the Miners’ shuttle dropped out of hyperspace, everyone undid their safety restraints and crowded around the windows. Their celebrations about being playoff-bound had been short lived as everyone remembered there was still one more game on the calendar, the biggest game of the year.

    And that game was being played in the middle of a massive military buildup.

    To call the space around Nal Hutta and its moon a war zone would have been inaccurate because there was no war—yet. But the assassination of a senior Hutt by forces unknown had caused the slugs to mass their forces for action. It was not the best situation to be playing a Limmie game in.

    The team clustered at the viewports for a look at this massive fleet. Alana didn’t envy whoever was going to be on the receiving end of their ire.

    As Holonet connectivity came back, datapads pinged with messages now that they could sync. “What the what?” somebody shouted.

    “What?” Alana asked, tearing herself away from the display of military might.

    “The Chancellor’s not coming,” T.K. said, “It’s right here on the news. ‘Senatorial Guard cites safety concerns; bars Chancellor from travel to Hutt Space.’”

    “Force almighty, this is bad,” Adanna said, as she continued to look at the Hutt fleet, “What have we gotten ourselves into?”

    “‘According to sources, Chancellor Trieste is furious with the Guard’s ruling, but is legally unable to overrule them in matters of her own safety,’” T.K. continued reading, “‘The Trieste family is still expected to send an ownership representative. Sources indicate Trieste’s son and daughter, who also receive Senatorial Guard protection, are not allowed to travel either. Supreme Court Justice Regan Eldred is expected to be the primary representative of the family, joined by Oisin Trieste, husband to Smugglers’ Chairwoman Verity Vehn.’ This is nuts. I mean this is crazy.”

    “First a blizzard, now this,” Gaeriel said, “Somebody out there doesn’t like us very much.”

    “They can’t hate us. We’re going to the playoffs,” Alana said optimistically as she returned to the viewport to gaze at the fleet, thus far keeping a respectful distance from the Smugglers’ Moon.

    “Let’s just hope we stay alive long enough to get there,” Nanchecka muttered.



    Landing pad, Miners’ hotel

    There was certain to be media on hand for the Vertical City with the Black & Blue Battle on. It was an annual tradition and everybody knew to expect it. Alana didn’t even bother with her wig—they would have found her anyways. The questions came fast and loud.

    “How do you like your chances against a last place team?”

    “If you win, will it mean anything?”

    “Corrie, do you regret being traded after last year’s championship run?”

    “Do you think you can win in Six Boroughs?”

    “Alana, is it true you’re in therapy?”

    That last one got the redhead’s attention. “What?” she exclaimed. She started for the reporter, shocked. “What did—”

    “No questions,” Han Tunross said, coming up quickly from behind Alana and taking her by the arm into the hotel, “No questions.”

    By the time they got in the door and away from the press, Alana’s face was red with anger. “How the f—”

    “Don’t say anything, don’t say anything,” Tunross said, trying to keep the captain from saying anything.

    “Wait, what’s this?” Corrie asked in the lobby, having heard only half of what had just happened. Most of the team hadn’t caught the exchange in their haste to get inside, but already people were talking and starting to put things together.

    The doctor didn’t stop, but pulled Alana into a lift and randomly hit a floor and then the door close button as fast as he could. “Don’t say a word. Nothing. Don’t say anything,” he kept repeating. In fact, he put his hand over Alana’s mouth just to make sure. Red sometimes spoke before she thought.

    Once the doors of the lift shut, Han removed his hand. “—rak did they find out?” Alana demanded angrily.

    “I don’t know, but we need to talk to Etie. Now,” Tunross said.

    Tag: @Liam_Vehn
  15. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 4
    IC: Alana Glencross
    Miners’ hotel, Nar Shaddaa

    “You told me nobody was going to find out!” Alana fumed, “You told me!”

    “Alana, I know you’re angry, but we need to calm down. Don’t think I’m not taking this seriously. A potential breach of doctor-patient privilege is a very serious thing. But we need to understand if that’s happened,” Dr. Calay said via Holonet.

    “Well it’s clearly happened!” Alana shouted, “They asked me about it! You don’t just ask people if they’re in therapy.”

    “Maybe if they’re shouting all the time you do,” Tunross mumbled.

    “What?” Alana said, spinning.

    “Oh, just that you do attend sessions in person. Someone could have seen you and put two and two together,” Tunross said, thinking quickly, “That may be all this is. That and trying to get a reaction out of me.”

    “Oh they’re going to get a reaction out of me. I am going to react all over their—”

    “Alana, I’d like you to calm down right now,” Dr. Calay said, “I understand you’re angry and hurt. You should be, but you’re getting out of hand here. You need to calm down.”

    “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one whose dirty laundry is being aired before the galaxy,” Alana shot back.

    “No, I’m the one who could potentially lose her psychiatric license for failure to protect doctor-patient privilege, who could lose her entire livelihood as a result of this, depending on what’s happened,” Dr. Calay explained patiently. She let the statement sit.

    Alana slumped into a chair in the corner of her hotel room. “Okay. Fine. So not so easy for you to say,” she admitted.

    “Dr. Tunross, could we have some alone time?” the Omwati asked.

    “Yes. Right,” he said, hastily making an exit, “I’ll see what I can find out about what people know.”

    When they were alone, Dr. Calay said, “Alana, you told me in an earlier session about the pressures of being a public figure. Surely you had to think this was going to come out one day.”

    “There are still limits,” Alana said, “Why don’t people understand I’m a being? That I have a personal life I might not want the entire galaxy to know about? How would they feel if someone went blabbing to everybody they knew that they were in therapy? Frak, and just when I was starting to feel good about this therapy thing and opening up and everything…”

    “Because you made the playoffs?” Dr. Calay asked.
    “No,” Alana said immediately, “I mean, it’s great, I’m happy. But…”

    “Or is it because of dinner with Niall?”

    “Well…”



    Verandah, Salis D’aar, Bakura
    Slightly over one week ago

    “Wait, are you…?” Alana didn’t finish the thought. Was Niall seeing Dr. Calay too?

    “The good doctor found me after you apparently mentioned my name. Something about how we’d lost touch. She said she thought you’d appreciate getting together again,” Niall said.

    “Yes. Well, not exactly. See—”

    “Ah, you found her,” the hostess said, “Your table is ready. We’ll have your drink sent to your table, Mr. Kirt.”

    “Great,” Niall said, “Shall we?”

    “Oh, what the hell,” Alana said, grabbing her drink, “At least the Doc was right. You do have all your limbs.”



    Once the pair were seated and had ordered, Alana maneuvered the conversation back to its earlier point. “What I was trying to say earlier was that I’d told Doc that I didn’t want to get you involved in my life. It’s just such a mess. I mean, it’s not, it’s pretty awesome, but for anyone else to try to step into it would be a disaster for them.”

    “Alana—” Niall started.

    “Not that I don’t think of you as a friend,” Alana continued, “but I just don’t want you to have to deal with everything I do. I mean, I’m taking pictures on the street with kids in their Miner t-shirts on a daily basis sometimes.”

    “Alana—”

    “But there’s this ugly side to it too. Everybody feels like they own a piece of you,” Alana kept going, “Niall, I’ve known you forever—”

    “Third grade,” Niall got in, “Alana—”

    “—and don’t want to subject you to all of that. It’s not fair to you. I mean if anyone saw us here tonight and got a pic with their datapad your picture would probably be on the front of tomorrow’s tabloids,” Alana said.

    “Alana, may I get one sentence in?” Niall finally edged in.

    “Oh, yeah, sure, what?” Alana said.

    “Do you even know what I do, Alana?” Niall asked.

    “You’re an attorney, right?”

    “Yes, but apparently you don’t follow the news much with all your Limmie.”

    Alana cocked her head. “Yeah I do.”

    Niall slid his pocket datapad across the table, displaying an article from the Salis D’aar Times. It featured a picture of Niall at a podium, apparently answering some sort of a question. The headline read: “ELECTION BOARD INVESTIGATING WATERCREST COUNTY ELECTIONS.”

    “What are you doing in the Times?” Alana asked, looking up.

    “Did you even read it?” Niall asked.

    “Maybe.”

    “I’ll take that as a no. I’m the new Assistant General Counsel of the Federal Election Board.”

    “You never struck me as a political partisan from Ojai,” Alana said.

    “I’m not. That’s why I’m on the FEB. It’s a nonpartisan, independent election administrator and arbiter,” Niall said, “Don’t you remember Civics class?”

    “I remember Trieste won everything,” Alana said. She couldn’t hide her smile.

    “Yeah, sure, play the dumb jock card. You never were in high school,” Niall said, “The long and short of this, Miss You-Can’t-Handle-The-Media, is that I have reporters grilling me on a weekly basis and politicians yelling at me daily because we’re going to declare the other guy the winner. It’s the perks of being the new guy in the office: they make me do the public relations.”

    “And you get your picture in the news sometimes.”

    “Alana, I did all three political morning shows last weekend. And they don’t ask yes or no questions on them.”

    “They do preempt them for Limmie,” Alana pointed out.

    “They reschedule them for Limmie,” Niall corrected, “The point is that I happen to know a thing or two about dealing with media attention.”

    “So you’re saying you think you could handle being friends with me again? Just like you Niall. I start making three million credits a year and all of a sudden you show up again,” Alana said with a laugh.

    “Well, there’s friends and then there’s I already bought you a drink, so I might as well buy you dinner,” Niall said.

    Alana looked at him with more than a small measure of surprise. Well that was unexpected, she thought.

    Tag: No one
    jcgoble3 likes this.
  16. Bardan_Jusik Mand'alor - Manager of the EUC, SWC and Spinoffs

    Manager
    Member Since:
    Dec 14, 2009
    star 9
    IC: Beskaryc Taab
    Meshla Vhetin, Manda'yaim

    Taab was having a good day, The Mercs had won and the head of the scheduling commitee had "gone missing". Taab had been assured that his body would never be found. He looked over at the only other being who had shared the owner's box with him throughout the match, his ex-wife and new GM Aay'han Vhett. "You have been hired to evauluate and improve the team. So evaluate." She looked over at him with those piercing eyes of hers, she knew just the moment when their eyes met despite the fact that he was wearing his buy'ce and she was not. "I have been hired to fix the mess you and your friends created by emphasizing aruetii concepts on the team."

    She sighed and looked back out on the field where the Mercs players were congregating with the Smugglers, congratulating each other on a hard fought game. "And now that we have gone back to playing Mandalorian meshgeroya we see a victory." She was right, the team aruetii concept had been totally abandoned in this matchup and it seemed more like a game of years past. There had been some minor substitutions to be sure, but not the massive lineup changes that had marked the other games this season. Only at the end of the game, with victory assured, had an entire segemnt been taken out. The full and corner forward psotitons had been swapped out with just a few minutes to go and replaced by the "fuzzy forwards" as they were being called by the Mandalorian press. Tsulkalu, a Wookiee, Naughten the Shistvanen and Flarn the Yuzzem, were all rookiees and all on expiring contracts. Vhett had told Coach Kal to get them extra playing time over the other backups if possible, and here they hadn't disappointed.

    To Taab's eye anyway it looked as though those three had the stamina and athleticism to stick with the club after this season. But would Vhett see it the same way? Time would tell, she was playing things close to the beskar'gam for now. "Kor'le played well of course, and the young new goaltender proved his worth as well today." Taab nodded, though he wondered how this would affect Kii Skirata's contract status. Vhett must have read his mind "I have already been in contact with Kii's agent, we need a strong backup goaltender. A veteran who knows the league and our way of playing meshgeroya in case young Katan has a..setback." Taab continued nodding. This was why he had brought Vhett on as GM. She had an uncanny way of addressing issues before they became problems. It was probably why she had left him in the first place. She was also the most ruthless mando'ade he had ever known. "And the offense? Have you spoken with their agents?" She turned back to him, tapping her hand on her thigh.

    "Attempts have been made, but thus far they haven't amounted to anything. Whose idea was it to sign them all to contracts that end at the same time anyway? You never give an opponent that kind of leverage!" Taab laughed. To Jac-Ral the players, especially the Nulls and his daughter, weren't the enemy, they were his own children. Then again maybe that had been part of his problem with the team all along. "They are a close knit group. cyar'ika, I doubt they would have accepted contracts from us with different terms."

    Her eyes flashed at being called sweetheart. "The last time you called me that, I put a vibro-blade to your throat." Taab laughed that "crazy" laugh that he knew she hated. "And that is why I left my buy'ce on this time." She calmed down a bit, ignoring his laugh. Still it felt good to him to get under her skin, even just a little. "I believe they are going to take their contracts negotiations right into the off season. But I have a plan for that." She paused, giving him a "I know what I am doing look". "As for the rest of our impending free agents and possible draft picks, I will have something more formal to present to
    you at season's end. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting at the Keldabe Military Acadamy."

    Neither of those statements surprised Taab but there was still something he was curious about. "And this plan for the Nulls and Kor'le?"

    "Why, my dear," She said, emphasizing the last two words as she made her way to the door. "It involves...you."



    IC: Ryi Kor'le
    Locker Room, Meshla Vhetin

    Finally! Ryi looked around the locker room at her team mates and could see them all expressing the same sentiment. Finally they had won a game. They wouldn't be going down in history as one of the few teams to go an entire season without a win. Yes, their season was still lost. There would be no playoff berth for them, but to feel the thrill of a victory again after so long was a sweet feeling.

    To have it come just a week after her father had been deposed as General Manager made it a bitter sweet moment, but one she knew he would also be celebrating. She hadn't been in contact with him since the news came down from the front office, just a short message from him that he was taking a vacation for a bit. But she had heard rumors that he was considering mercenary work with the Republic. From what she could tell by the news on the holo, they might need the help.

    She glanced about at her vode, all smiles now that the pressure of losing was off their backs for at least one day. Kii seemed happy, but upset. Katan had done well in the net today, and probably sealed her fate as a backup if she stayed with the team next year. Kor'le wouldn't blame her for leaving if another starting job opened up somewhere else. Of course she didn't know if she would be staying herself yet. It felt good to win again, especially playing the game the mando way, but was it enough to make her re-sign with the team?

    She still couldn't see herself playing against her former team mates, ever. And from their earlier discussion, she knew the Nulls were loathe to play on separate teams from each other. There was no way any one team could hope to absorb the entire group of them at once. Smart move buir, signing us all to contracts that expired at the same time.

    Coach Kal came into the locker room and started handing out game balls. There was no strain on his face, just joy for his players and staff. Kor'le knew that his job was being evaluated too. Rare was the time that a new GM was brought in that didn't replace the coaching staff with one that shared his or her vision. Ryi couldn't help but feel that this was all the end of an era in Mandalorian meshgeroya, and that maybe it was her time to walk away from it all...

    TAG: No One

    [IMG]
    Last edited by Bardan_Jusik, Dec 12, 2012
  17. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 4
    IC: Alana Glencross
    Miners’ hotel, Nar Shaddaa

    Alana took a deep breath in the hallway. Dr. Calay had suggested this and Alana still wasn’t sure about whether or not this was the right thing to do. But hey, she’d gotten back to the playoffs on the doc’s watch so she was willing to try anything the Omwati was throwing out these days.

    Except Dac cuisine. She just could not get behind the idea of raw fish. There was a reason fire existed and it was to cook food.

    The redhead put a hand on the door, and paused. Once I go in there, I’ve got to go through with it, she thought, Oh wait, I have to go through with it anyways because everybody knows I called a press conference. Damn. There went my way out.

    So Glencross walked into the small conference room where the sports media, especially those from the Vertical City, had congregated at Alana’s request. She sat down at the table that had been set up courtesy of the hotel.

    “Hi everyone. Another year, another Black & Blue,” Alana said with a smile to try to get things off on the right foot. She turned on her datapad with her prepared remarks. “So I asked you all here to discuss an issue that one of you raised during our arrival.” And if I knew who it was I would probably beat you up in a dark alley. So it’s good that I don’t. Otherwise I’d probably need more therapy for anger management. “I was asked whether or not it is true that I have been seeing a therapist. The answer is yes.”

    Cameras flashed as Alana expected they would.

    “I would like to say that I do not suffer from mental disease or defect. My therapy has been to address issues that were affecting my on field performance, issues that I will not be commenting on publicly as they are a private matter,” Alana continued, “I entered counseling with great skepticism and reservations. I thought that it would be a waste of time, that I didn’t need help.

    “I could not have been more wrong. My sessions have been extremely productive for me once I stopped being so resistant. I cannot express how much it has benefited me, and I believe the Miners by extension, to be able to work on my issues with a trained professional.

    “I know that the stigma attached with seeking therapy is one that is a huge hurdle for a lot of beings. It was for me. However, I hope that in opening up to the galaxy that I have sought professional help for my own issues that I might encourage others to do the same. I especially hope that my example might help other professional Limmie players to seek help if they are facing major issues in their lives, regardless of whether they affect their play on the field. The pressures that we face as regular beings get magnified sometimes by the glare of the spotlight that comes with our sport.

    “And I want to say right here, right now to everyone out there: if you’re afraid to seek professional counseling or therapy because of what other beings will think of you, know that I stand with you. And if anyone thinks less of you for that, then they’ve got a problem with me,” Alana said.

    “Now, all of that out of the way, how about we have a good old-fashioned Bakura-Nar Shaddaa grudge fest this week?” Alana said brightly.



    Verandah, Salis D’aar, Bakura
    A little over a week ago

    “So you’re asking me on a date, right now,” Alana said, trying to get her mind around what was happening.

    “I think we’re kind of on one. I’d just like to start calling it that,” Niall said.

    “Niall, what am I supposed to say to that?” Alana asked.

    “Yes is sufficient.”

    Alana rolled her eyes. “This is so you. You think things are always normal, as if we never left Ojai.”

    “I won’t pretend we haven’t changed, but you keep thinking that you’re not the same person who you were back then,” Niall said.

    “I’m a professional Limmie player who won the MVP award. Pretty sure I don’t qualify for same-person-status anymore,” Alana said.

    “I grew up with an Alana Glencross to whom good grades were more important than Limmie.”

    “Because I never thought it would be anything other than a varsity letter,” Alana interjected.

    “Whose family was the most important thing in the galaxy to her,” Niall continued, “Is that still not true?”

    “You don’t have to be Admiral Ackbar to see that’s a trap,” Alana said. Niall just continued looking at her waiting for a reply. “Okay, fine. Yes, my family is still important to me. You know I go home every offseason.”

    “And if you ever won a Galactic Cup and got your day with it, I’d bet 100 credits that you’d bring it to Ojai when we know you could do anything with it and go anywhere. But you’d take it to a middle of nowhere town that doesn’t mean a thing to anybody, but you’d still go there because you’d want to do it.”

    “Yeah…” Alana admitted.

    Niall wrote down a number on a scrap of flimsi. “And I’m willing to bet you give at least that much of your salary to charity, probably anonymously.” He slid it across to her.

    “Sithspit, that’s pretty damn close,” Alana said when she reviewed it, “Okay, so you know all that about me. So what?”

    “So I know that Alana Glencross is still the same good person who I went to high school with. And when I saw you again back in Ojai a few years ago I remembered why I’d had a crush on you.”

    “Wait what?” Alana said, “You had a crush on me? And you never told me?”

    “It never felt like the right time,” Niall admitted.

    “You son of a gundark!” Alana said, and then realized she’d said it a little too loudly for such a nice restaurant. “Son of a gundark!” Alana said softer, “It’s never the right time you idiot!”

    “Well I was in high school, how was I supposed to know?” Niall said, “But the point is that you’re still the same person I knew back then and I liked her. And I wouldn’t mind being with her now.”

    Alana paused and then said, “It’s the red hair, isn’t it?”

    “Absolutely,” Niall said without hesitation.

    “You lousy ginger lover,” Alana replied with a smile, “Fine, let’s have a date, Niall Kirk. And since you said you’re paying, I’m gonna get hammered. After all, I have to fly to Nar Shaddaa tomorrow. That is not a city you want to see sober.”

    “It’s not improved by a hangover,” Niall pointed out.

    “I don’t intend to be finished being drunk when I land,” Alana retorted.

    Just then their food arrived. “Oh yes,” Alana said, “Arcadian snapper. Yum!”

    [IMG]

    Tag: Everybody
  18. Dubya_Scott Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Jun 11, 2002
    star 5
    IC: Reggie Dun'lop, Jo Mu Grath, Med Braden - Nadiem Chiefs

    It was only a few minutes into the game against the visiting Vandelhelm Jets and the Chiefs were already down 4 points. The stands in the stadium were not filled to capacity. Those factors, coupled with the financial crisis and the uncertain future of the team, was bringing down the morale of the players.

    During one of the stoppages of play, Reggie quickly called everyone in. "What the frak is going on out there, you guys? This isn't like you. I know times are difficult, but we've gotta keep playing."

    "What for," Med Braden asked. "The frakkin' team's folding."

    "What?" Reg questioned. All the other players looked over toward Med.

    Med continued, "Yeah. I heard Grath on a comm device before the game. He was finding himself another job. The team's history."

    As the officials forced the stunned players back out to the field, Reggie left the bench and headed up into the offices at the War Memorial Stadium. He had to find out what was happening. He was going to demand some answers. He stormed down the corridor and entered Grath's office. The door slid shut behind him.

    Reggie stared at Grath who was sitting in his chair, slumped over...as if he had bad news...

    "Jo?"

    The obese Twi'lek glanced up at Reggie. He said, "This is the last season. It'll be announced tomorrow."

    Reggie hesitated, then dropped down into the chair across from Grath's desk. He was speechless.

    - - - - - - - - - -

    Come halftime, Reggie explained to his players what was happening with the Chiefs organization. Some players might be picked up by other teams, some may go to the minor leagues, some may be forced to retire. But the Chiefs were done. This was it.

    Since this was potentially the final home game, Reggie motivated the players to play some "old time limmie" for the loyal fans and Nadiem people. This my be the final season, but the Chiefs were going out with a bang. The motivation ended up winning them the last regular season home game, playing an incredible game in the second half.

    A playoff spot was uncertain at this point. There was no telling what the end of the Chiefs final season would hold.

    TAG: ALL...
  19. Dubya_Scott Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Jun 11, 2002
    star 5
    IC: Reggie Dun'lop - Nadiem Chiefs

    The usual HoloNet reporters were crowded into the press room at the War Memorial Stadium in Char'les'town. General Manager Jo Mu Grath and Head Coach Reggie Dun'lop stood by the podium. Grath stepped up to the microphone. "Hello, everyone. Thank you for coming all the way out here to the Outer Rim. The rumors are in fact true. The Chiefs organization is folding."

    Reggie rolled his eyes. Grath was never good with public relations. Reg stepped up next to Grath and nudged the Twi'lek out of the way. "Thanks for putting it so bluntly," he said to Grath before turning to the crowd.

    "The Chiefs," Reg started, spotting the entire team in the back of the room, "were only in the Elite League for a short time and we never won a championship. But we're not a team to be dismissed from the history of the ELL. Our guys fought just as hard as any other team in the League...the Hansons more so." He heard a few chuckles and saw the Hanson brothers high-fiving each other in the back of the room.

    Continuing, "This is a damn good group of players and I was lucky to be coaching them. I'm proud of those guys. And they did great things for this so-called backwater farming planet in the Outer Rim. Who knew limmie would be such a popular thing on Nadiem? We gave these farmers something to cheer for. And I know that my old mentors Toe Blake and Eddie Shore, who were Elite League players hailing from this fine planet, would also be proud of the Chiefs and what we've done not only for Nadiem, but for limmie as well. Unfortunately, Nadiem's financial situation was ultimately our downfall."

    He paused. "I just want to thank the higher-up people in the ELL organization for allowing us to join this great league and compete for the Cup. I also want to thank Jo Mu Grath for putting up with my shenanigans and, uh...maybe some blackmailing." He smirked as he looked over toward Grath. "Let's see, who else is there to thank... The Kashyyyk Rangers, the Chiefs booster club, the Chiefs cheerleaders, all the players on the team, and of course the people of Nadiem. They deserve the most thanks. They kept us going for as long as possible. Oh, and I also had a great time at the All-Star Game."

    "So finally, yes, this is the Chiefs last season. But we had a hell of a time!" He heard some of the players cheering in the back of the room. "We're gonna play out the rest of this season like we've never played before. For Nadiem. For Toe Blake and Eddie Shore. For old time limmie!"

    The Hanson brothers started to go berserk, but, thankfully, he saw the other players restraining them. The crowd of reporters began asking questions as Reg stepped off the podium. He shook Grath's meaty hand and exited the room.

    That was the toughest speech he's ever had to make.

    TAG: ALL...
    Trieste, CPL_Macja and Bardan_Jusik like this.
  20. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 4
    IC: Alana Glencross
    Six Boroughs Stadium, Nar Shaddaa

    "Well, nice to see that the paint hasn't started peeling yet," Alana remarked as the team made its way down the tunnel to take the field. The "old lady" had gotten a new coat of paint for last year's Galactic Cup Final. However, the experience of having to actually use the visitor's locker room for a change had not inspired the Smugglers to make any improvements on that front.

    Figures.

    This was Alana's second time to Nar Shaddaa. This was what being a Miner was all about. They might not always make the playoffs, but they were always going to play the Smugglers and it was always going to count to both teams. It was a special brand of mean and nasty. And that was as it should be.


    As they waited in the tunnel for the signal to enter the playing field, Corrie breathed deeply, eyes closed.

    "Enjoy the stench?" Inviere asked behind her. The Senator/Miner had never had cause to enjoy Six Boroughs.

    "It's a hell of a place to play," Andersen replied.

    At the head of the line, Valerii stood next to Alana. "Pressure's off, Red. We're in, playoff seeding is set. This one's just for fun."

    Alana turned and looked with a half smirk at the head coach. "Was it ever just for fun when you played?"

    "No," Gaeriel replied with a grin, "Kill 'em out there."

    "You bet," Alana said.

    And with that, the Miners in their road whites ran onto the field to the predictable jeers and boos from the Crew. No matter how bad the season was, they were going to show for the Miners game. After all, without the Patriots they had to direct their ill will at someone. It was all part of a good rivalry. This year there was a decidedly different feel. Given the war footing that permeated the space around Nar Shaddaa, few Miner fans had taken the time to journey to the final regular season game of the year. With a home game in the playoffs assured, many fans who might have braved the trip decided it was just easier to get tickets for the game in Salis D'aar. Only the occassional blue jersey stood out in the crowd, barely visible in the sea of maroon and black. It would be, without question, one of the most hostile crowds that Alana had ever played before. But that was the game of Limmie.

    There was another part to that game as well. Alana trotted across the field to the Smuggler sideline to pay her respects to Chambers. It was a downright shame that the Smugglers keeper was sidelined for this match, what would be their Galactic Cup for the year. "Sorry to see you here, not in net," Alana said to Meredith, "Heal fast for your trip to the Gardens next year." Rodders, Andersen, and Landa all shook the hand of the Smuggler great and likely future Hall of Famer as well. Inviere pointedly kept her distance.

    With the pleasantry out of the way, the Miners huddled on their sideline.

    "They're up for the game today," Gaeriel told her team, "We all know that. We've got to match their intensity. They're going to get physical. You can't allow yourselves to get drawn into retaliations. The refs are gonna call it every time. Take a few dirty hits if they lay them out. Those refs aren't going to be totally blind. You guys took it to the Force last week and they had even more on the line then than the Smugglers do now. You can play blow for blow with these guys. And hey, no snow this week so we can play our game. Red?"

    "We all want the Jar back. Let's make it happen," Alana said. The Jar was the colloquial name that the Old Whiskey Trophy had earned on Bakura after the song "Whiskey in the Jar" that had premiered at last year's Black & Blue Battle. "We're the Bakura Miners and we don't sit on our laurels or look to next week. We play our game here and now. 1-2-3--"

    "MINERS!"

    Tag: @Liam_Vehn
  21. Vehn Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Sep 14, 2009
    star 4
    IC: Meredith Chambers
    Six Boroughs Stadium, Nar Shaddaa



    The 271 season had been humbling for Meredith Chambers. To go from the highest pinnacle of professional Limmie to sitting on the sidelines for the entire season had changed her life in more ways than one. No longer was she going to take her time on the field for granted. From this point forward, she wanted to make every minute count. Her injury had a way of rattling her confidence in the divine order of the galaxy and she knew that her first tentative steps back onto the pitch were ones that could define the rest of her career. But that was in the future. Now was the Black and Blue Battle. Now was the time to end the Smugglers despicable season on a winning note. Now was the time to keep hold of the Old Whiskey Trophy, for all those who had come before.

    She stood shakily on her crutches. The team had come out of the tunnel, was getting last minute game plans from the coordinators, looked defeated already, and that made her want to vomit. Shuffling over to the team, Chambers called them together. There was hell fire in her eyes. Though she may be unable to have played the game. She wanted the Smuggler squad to show up and play this game if nothing else about this season meant anything to them.

    "Already I see the look of defeat in your eyes. You haven't even taken a snap and the entire squad looks like you've been punched in the gut!" Chambers said.

    "We have!" Helena Forsythe opined.

    "You only believe that you are weak. But do you know what I see?"

    The squad shook their collective heads.

    "I see a squad that just won their ninth Galactic Cup last year. I see a squad that has a long line of Limmie greats supporting them who never would've thrown in the towel regardless of how poorly they played that year. You must stand tall, you will stand tall, and I expect that each one of you will play their best. Play to your potential. Maker, if nothing else, play as if you actually care about this game! Just because I'm crippled in the sidelines does not mean that you have suddenly lost your leader. That you have suddenly lost your heart. That you have suddenly lost your passion for the game! Play with pride. This is your Galactic Cup. This is your chance to show the home crowd that all was not in vain! Get out there and play Limmie the way I know you can. The way I saw last year," Chambers said.

    "Smugglers!" The team roared as they peeled away toward the pitch.

    Chambers winced as she sat back down on the bench. Her injury had really done her in this time. It had been more than a mentally painful year. It had been a very physically challenging one at that.What happened next surprised her greatly. Alana was approaching her, followed by several of her teammates.

    Red extended a hand as she said, "Sorry to see you here, not in net," Alana said to Meredith, "Heal fast for your trip to the Gardens next year." Rodders, Andersen, and Landa all shook the hand of the Smuggler great and likely future Hall of Famer as well.

    Chambers smiled, appreciated the gesture, had realized how much their personal relationship had improved since the All Star Game, what seemed a million years ago."You play hard and safe out there, Alana. And," she paused, looked down at her bandaged knee, "good luck in the playoffs. This year could be the one you'll always remember."

    With that, the game began. And the world of Elite League Limmie continued without her.

    Tag: @Trieste

  22. jcgoble3 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Nov 7, 2010
    star 4
    IC: Marte Nalo
    Location: Nalo home, Eusebus, Euceron
    Time: One day before Week 7 home game against Chiefs

    Jaria walked in and grabbed the sweat towel off of the back of Marte's chair, causing him to put the current issue of Limmie Weekly down and look at her. "Man, are you sweating. Is it really that hot out there?"

    "Yes. As usual it appears that we skipped spring and went right into summer."

    "Yeah, that's typical. Have you heard about the Chiefs folding?" He held up the magazine, open to the article he was reading.

    "No," said Jaria. She leaned down and read the article. "Interesting," she said when she finished it. "The Storm play them tomorrow, right?"

    "Yep. We get the honor of being their last regular-season opponent."

    "Regular season? They could make the playoffs?"

    "They're second in the conference right now, so yeah."

    Just then Tendra and Jado ran in. "Jado needs to show you something," said Tendra.

    "What?" asked Marte.

    Jado stood in the middle of the room with a look of concentration on his face. He put his hand out toward an old bolo-ball against the wall, and after a moment the ball began to rise into the air to the surprise of Marte and Jaria. The ball then flew toward Jado, who caught it and then looked at his parents.

    "Well, now we know you're Force-sensitive," said Marte. "First off, you're done with limmie and probably just about any sport out there. Second, now we really need to get Palla and Zay in here ASAP. Don't want you turning into a Sith Lord."

    "I'm not gonna be a Sith Lord," said Jado. "I wanna be a Jedi."

    "You wanna be a Jedi? Kid, I already lost one son. I don't know if I can stand to lose the other."

    Jado put an exaggerated frown on his face and made himself look as pitiful as possible.

    "Son, I don't think that's an appropriate reaction for a Jedi. But I'll at least talk to Palla before I decide whether to allow it."

    The response seemed to satisfy Jado, and the two kids ran back outside.

    "Sometimes I wonder how Han and Leia felt after losing their two sons," commented Marte.

    "Anakin was almost an adult, though, and Jacen was an adult. Our kids are still that: kids."

    "Which makes it even harder to swallow." Marte took a deep breath and let out a deep sigh. "Last time I talked to her, Palla said she could be here by early next week. We'll see what she has to say."

    "Why don't you take Jado to the game tomorrow? Last I checked, it wasn't sold out yet, and it could be your last chance for a father–son outing with him."

    "Good idea."

    TAG: @Dubya_Scott (for the weather: hot and humid!)
  23. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 4
    GM Post



    Because it's time for Week 7 and playoff match ups! Bonus rolls to Bakura, Euceron, Mando'ade, Nadiem, Nar Shaddaa, andThyferra.

    Week 7 Results
    Ryloth Rough Riders at Vandelhelm Jets (24-30)
    Bakura Miners at Nar Shaddaa Smugglers (3-32)
    Onderon Crazy Dragons at Mando’ade Mercs (25-10)
    Nadiem Chiefs at Euceron Storm (23-39)
    Thyferra Force at Rydonni Prime Monarchs (38-34)

    Final Standings
    Skywalker Conference
    1. Vandelhelm Jets (5-2, conf. 3-1)
    2. Onderon Crazy Dragons [Teegirloo, Sam Poland (GM)] (5-2, conf. 2-2)
    3. Ryloth Rough Riders [JediMaster_1977, Zeke Barbosa (player)] (5-2, conf. 2-2)
    4. Nadiem Chiefs [Dubya_Scott, Reggie Dun'lop (head coach)] (4-3, conf. 2-2)
    5. Euceron Storm [jcgoble3, Marte Nalo (sportscaster)] (3-4, conf. 1-3)
    Solo Conference
    1. Rydonni Prime Monarchs [CPL_Macja, Setarcos Rhemes (head coach)] (5-2, conf. 3-1)
    2. Thyferra Force [Jedi Gunny, Jayla Leed (player)] (3-4, conf. 3-1)
    3. Bakura Miners [Trieste, Alana Glencross (player)] (3-4, conf. 2-2)
    4. Nar Shaddaa Smugglers [Liam_Vehn, Vincent Cutter (GM)] (2-5, conf. 1-3)
    5. Mando'ade Mercs [Bardan_Jusik, Beskaryc Taab (owner)] (1-6, conf. 1-3)
    The Vandelhelm Jetswin the Commissioner's Trophy for the best overall record based on their head-to-head win against the Rydonni Prime Monarchs in Week 1.

    Galactic Cup Playoffs
    Skywalker Conference
    (1) Vandelhelm Jets receive first round bye
    Galactic Cup Quarterfinals
    (3) Ryloth Rough Riders at (2) Onderon Crazy Dragons

    Solo Conference
    (1) Rydonni Prime Monarchs receive first round bye
    Galactic Cup Quarterfinals
    (3) Bakura Miners at (2) Thyferra Force

    Tag: @Bardan_Jusik @CPL_Macja @Dubya_Scott @jcgoble3 @JediMaster_1977 @Jedi Gunny @Liam_Vehn @Teegirloo
    Last edited by Trieste, Dec 16, 2012
    JediMaster_1977 and Jedi Gunny like this.
  24. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 4
    GM Post
    Elite League offices, Coruscant

    The end of the Elite League season brought a flurry of activity on Coruscant and the Commissioner's office was the epicenter of all that. There was preparation for the 272 Draft already taking place, upcoming meetings of the Membership Committee relating to the folding of the Chiefs, season award nominations to be finalized, and playoff logistical coordination with local authorities that the League tried to ease.

    All of that was important, but when Niakara Kayl'hen got a comm from Esther Gondorf, everyone was told to get out. Two minutes later, Gondorf and Kayl'hen sat close together in plush chairs in her office. There was only one thing that Gondorf would interrupt Kayl'hen for on a day like today.

    "Discovery proceedings today uncovered something unexpected," Gondorf said, "It seems that Mr. Mornd was a lot more clever than we gave him credit for."

    "How so?" Kayl'hen asked.

    "They finally found the money. Mornd dispersed it well, but from everything our accountants have seen, they think that there's enough to begin operations without additional capital investment next season," Gondorf said.

    Kayl'hen sat back. The Senators were a flagship franchise for the League. Getting them back in 272 would be big. "Has the ownership issue been officially resolved?"

    "Not officially until bankruptcy proceedings are completed, but I believe that legally S'rily has the first claim to the Senators. His legal team has filed for S'rily to assume ownership coming out of bankruptcy proceedings and we've filed briefs in support of that given his historic ties he has to the organization," Esther said, "But this creates a problem. S'rily's ownership of the Force creates a conflict if the courts award the Senators to S'rily. Our rules are clear: as long as the Force are in the Elite League the Senators cannot be. The Force would need to voluntarily withdraw first--unless we demote them."

    "Open a back channel to S'rily and see what he wants to do if the courts award him ownership of the Senators," Kayl'hen said.

    "That's not all." Kayl'hen indicated for Gondorf to proceed. "We have a Draft problem out of all this."

    "What's that?"

    "The Senators would draft before all existing Elite League teams," Gondorf said.

    "Right," Kayl'hen said.

    "The Force in joining the League last year got the same privilege. The Board of Governors is going to go ballistic," Gondorf said, "S'rily getting two straight years of top draft picks after playoff appearances? I'd be angry."

    "None of them burned an entire season in bankruptcy," Kayl'hen pointed out, "It's not like this has been easy. Look at S'rily. He's managing a team in what rinky dink conference right now? I mean, is it even a pro conference?"

    "I don't think the Board of Governors is going to feel the same."

    "We'll see how they feel if the courts resolve the Senators ownership in S'rily's favor," Kayl'hen said. She motioned for Gondorf to move on.

    "The Membership Committee is keeping an eye on the GCLA playoffs. They think that we might be able to find a good replacement for Nadiem there."

    "Good. Ryloth and Onderon have proved that league is coming into its own. Keep an eye on the Patriots and the Rebels. They're strong markets. Anything else?"

    "Just that there's been no sign of the Scheduling Committee chairman since he disappeared last week," Gondorf said, "Authorities think foul play is involved."

    "I'll talk to some college chums in the Spynet," Niakara said, "I don't like this."

    "That's all," Gondorf said, rising.

    "Thank you. Keep me appraised on everything," the Commissioner said.

    Tag: @Bardan_Jusik @Jedi Gunny and everybody else
  25. Runjedirun Chancellor of the EUC Senate

    VIP
    Member Since:
    Sep 3, 2012
    star 6
    Team: Ralltiir Starkillers
    Name: Lucie Vigo
    Species: Human
    Gender: Female
    Birth year: 253
    Physical appearance: 5’7, slim, toned, dark skin, brown hair, brown eyes
    Home world: Ralltiir
    Relation to Team: Dance Team Captain
    Brief Biography: Before Lucie’s mother had met her father she had been one of the most recognized up and coming dancers on all of Ralltiir. Lucie’s father was a high end investment banker. Shortly after they met her mother became pregnant with Lucie. She gave up dancing and never looked back. Lucie was the oldest of 6 children. Lucie left home to pursue her own dancing career at just 16. She did not leave with the blessing of her parents.
    Determined not to fail Lucie landed the very first gig she tried out for. She became a dancer for the Ralltiir Starkillers the local Limmie team, at this time the team was part of the Alliance Bolo-ball Conference. Her hope was to make ends meat, gain experience and maybe save enough funds to go to a professional dance school. Lucie soon discovered there was no money to speak of for what was little more than a glorified cheering squad for a minor league Limmie team. She was waiting tables on the side just to pay rent. The up side was that Lucie really enjoyed choreographing and performing the teams performances. She discovered that she loved the actual work. Two years passed and not only had Lucie become the captain of the dance team, the team's play was also improving tremendously. The team had been promoted to the Galactic Championship Limmie Association. Lucie will do anything to be recognized she is pouring her heart and soul into routines for the upcoming play-offs and working extra shifts at the diner to help pay for props and costumes to enhance the dance teams performances.

    Team Name: Ralltiir Starkillers
    Home Field: Bankers Mansion Cambrielle
    General Manager: Ira Clarke (human male, Ralltiir)
    Head Coach: Maxson Foress (human male, Ralltiir)
    Goalkeeper: Jooms Woudron (Talz, male)
    Right Corner Back: Slynx (Gand, male)
    Full Back: Lista Mil'kya (Bothan, female)
    Left Corner Back: Ty Allin (human male, Corellia)
    Right Half Back: Loma Ikell (Thakwaash, female)
    Center Half Back: Keli Sen (human female, Hapes)
    Left Half Back: Andi Blyss (human male, Coruscant)
    Midfielder: Gwynn Reeser (Selonian, female)
    Midfielder: Jiims Woudron (Talz, male)
    Right Half Forward: Frokabukk (Wookie, male)
    Left Half Forward: Galen Coldnight (human male, Tatooine)
    Right Corner Forward: Loren Jul (human female, Hapes)
    Full Forward: Rim Sorro (Shistavanen, male)
    Left Corner Forward: Kallaevge (Wookie, female)
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