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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.

  1. Jedi Gunny

    Jedi Gunny Yahtzee Host star 9 VIP - Game Host

    May 20, 2008
    OOC: Double post, I know, but it might (or might not) be important.

    Also, this post takes place a day before the Semifinal games, just to put it into perspective.

    IC: The Supporting Cast
    HeMas Weapons, Ltd.

    Dun Dun opened another pocket and pulled out a thermal detonator. He then began to mess with the item, trying to keep his concentration. Sure it was a dangerous habit, playing with an explosive device that would easily rip his body to shreds if it blew, but he was experienced with these kinds of items, and wasn’t worried about them blowing up in his face.

    What he was worried about were the defenses that the agents were setting up. According to the plans captured at Mornd’s gala a few weeks prior, he was going to show up anytime, and thus they needed to be ready. No one at the weapons manufacturing plant knew they were there; X had taken care of that, slipping them in under the defensive measures put in place by the company to get the agents inside the compound.

    “How’s it coming?” came X’s voice over the comlink.

    “Almost set,” Dun Dun replied. “Just need to place the detonator in the chain, and then I’ll be done here.”

    “Hurry,” X said. “We don’t have much time.”

    Dun Dun set the detonator in place and then fell back. Although he wasn’t sure his explosives would slow down Mornd’s troops, they certainly would open a window of time to operate in. His only worry now was if his explosives would light off any of the weapons in the compound. If that happened, all hell would break loose.

    IC: Calo Mornd
    Location Unknown

    Calo stood on the balcony of his staging ground, overlooking the parade grounds. Hundreds of troopers stood down below, each one holding their positions in a rigid stance, blasters at the ready. Although the grounds had been somewhat damaged by the intrusion of Superbothan and his crew of misfits several weeks before, Calo was astounded at how quickly it had been repaired. His repair staff deserved a raise . . . but only a slight one, because Calo wasn’t about to give them better wages. That would lead to a whole can of worms he didn’t want to have to deal with, because labor issues would come afterwards if he favored certain individuals over others.

    “You have been training for so long,” Calo began. “This process has been intense, but now you will be able to reap the benefits of your work. Today, we will show the galaxy what we are capable of. Do not hesitate, and show no mercy. If you encounter enemy forces, gun them down without mercy. Today is not a day to be hesitant. Do your job, and you will be rewarded, simple as that. Move out!”

    The troops yelled out, and then the commanders began to move the units to their ships. Calo could only smile; everything was working according to his plan. With Superbothan out of the way, his path to domination was clear.


    Calo strode towards the Galactic Senate building, his troops in tow. It was another fine Coruscant morning, and the morning sun glow radiated off all surfaces in a picturesque fashion. But Calo wasn’t here to bask in the radiant glow of the sun; he had other business to attend to. The few civilians who were out in this area of town at the time were roughly beaten and forced to follow the line of troops, lest they attempt to warn the Senate guards of the arrival of a large armed force.

    As Calo walked up the steps, he could see some Senate guards flow through the doors, pikes and vibrostaffs in hand. Waving his arm, Calo sent a hundred of his troops forward. The black-clad soldiers easily overwhelmed the guards, beating the defenders down easily with their superior weapons. Calo had known that security wouldn’t be tight at this time in the morning; the guards were shifting their posts, and thus would be completely unprepared for any kind of attack, let alone this kind of assault.

    “Sir, the Senate is not convening today,” said Calo’s second-in-command. “Why are we here?”

    “I know,” Calo replied dismissively. “But everyone is going to be here today, regardless, since they will convene tomorrow. Makes things easier when there is less security, does it not?”

    “Understood,” the commanding officer said.

    “And I doubt she is here, with other events going on, but this will force the Supreme Chancellor’s hand,” Calo mused.

    “Shall we proceed?”

    “Yes,” Calo said.

    As the next hour proceeded, Calo’s troops ran like banshees through the Senate building, capturing as many Senators as they could find, beating any guards they found on their way, and generally caused havoc to reign in the chambers of the dignified building. All captives were lead into the main chamber, the set of oh-so-many Senate sessions over the years, and forced to sit in a tightly-clumped circle on the floor as troops watched over them, blasters in hand.

    Calo thumbed through a list of names on his comlink. Many of them were notorious criminals on planets all throughout the galaxy. He was ready to call them and ask for support for his overall plan. No doubt they would all want confirmation of what he had done, so he had taken care of that previously. No doubt news networks all over the galaxy had known what he was up to, and were preparing statements to inform the public. This fell into Calo’s plan; if his colleagues could slow down the Republic’s response to this calamity, then he could force his way into power in the Senate. The Chancellor would be helpless to prevent this power play from occurring, and he, Calo Mornd, would be sitting on his own empire of sorts. Today was a good day to be a villain.


    Two hours passed, and the agents were still at the compound, waiting for Mornd’s troops to arrive. But they never did.

    “Where are they?” Bucky asked.

    “I don’t like this,” Duckett said quietly.

    “I don’t either,” X said. He then received a call on his comlink, so he picked it up. After some words were exchanged, he put the unit down, a grim look on his face.

    “What’s up?” Bucky asked.

    “It’s Mornd. This whole thing was a ruse. He never intended to attack his plant,” X replied.

    “Then what was his target?” Nat asked.

    “The Senate building,” X said. “He’s captured it with little resistance. We just got fooled.”

    TAG: Trieste, Anyone who wants to comment
    Trieste likes this.
  2. Trieste

    Trieste Force Ghost star 5

    Apr 10, 2010
    GM Post
    Kerry Trieste
    Supreme Chancellor's residence, Coruscant

    "Look, I'm not saying that you should go bash some heads in on Druckenwell," Senator Gavin Serling of Eriadu said, "What I am saying is that you need them to handle this loophole. It's on their end and you're buddy buddy with them, right? They'll do anything for you."

    "Of course," Kerry said sarcastically, "Because they appreciated it when I went to the Board of Tribunes and said, 'Hey, I really want to do a trade deal with you, but because the Senate is made up of a bunch of egoists you guys have to come to us.' So yes, they love me there."

    "Hey, you're the one who got herself elected Chancellor twice," Serling said, "If you didn't want the hard jobs then I think you've made some terrible career choices, Madam Chancellor."

    Kerry could only laugh at that. Senator Serling was proving to be the most interesting freshman Senator she'd dealt with in quite some time.

    It was in mid laugh that the door of the room was nearly broken in by Senatorial Guard.

    "What the--" Serling started.

    By the time he'd gotten those words out, two of the Guard had grabbed the Chancellor with another two immediately on hand. "We have Firebrand," one said into a comm, "Repeat, we have Firebrand." Another pair of Guards were picking up the Senator, who dropped his drink--a waster of really good alcohol that was going to leave a stain on the carpet for sure--as he was being hauled away. "We have Senator Serling too," one of his Guards said into another comm.

    "What is going on?" Kerry yelled as she was unceremoniously hauled out of her nicely appointed residence with much less ceremony than was usually accorded to the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic. She saw that the two Senatorial Guard who were leading the way had blasters drawn. The Senatorial Guard almost never drew blasters--unless there was a threat.

    Once they were out of the residence, Kerry was thrown into the back of a speeder along with a couple of the Guards. Before the door was even shut the speeder took off at what seemed like full speed.

    "Firebrand is away and en route," one of the Guards reported.

    As Kerry got off the floor of the covered speeder she saw that a squadron of fighters was taking up formation around the speeder. She had no doubt it was one of the heavily armored and shielded speeders that the Guard maintained for the transport of the Chancellor. "Will someone tell me what's going on?"

    "Terrorists are attempting to take the Senate," one of the Guards said.

    "What?" Kerry exclaimed, "Who is taking the Senate?"

    "I don't know, Madam Chancellor. You'll be briefed when we arrive."

    "Arrive where?"

    Undisclosed location

    "What do you mean Calo Mornd is occupying the Senate building?" Kerry demanded, jumping to her feet at the head of the conference table, her face going as red as her hair used to be. It was showing a lot more gray than red these days.

    "Chancellor, twenty four minutes ago Calo Mornd and a force of mercenaries that we are estimating to be in the hundreds, possible upwards of a thousand, stormed the Senate building," Republican Intelligence Director Teruno, a male Quarren, reported. He brought up footage from security cameras near the Senate building that illustrated the point. "They overwhelmed the Senatorial Guard on duty and appear to have taken hostage the inhabitants of the building. Logs recovered from redundant systems indicate that this includes several sitting Senators of an indeterminate number at this point. We know of a dozen for sure, but it could be more."

    "Frak," Kerry said under her breath.

    "Mornd appears to have established a secure perimeter inside the Senate," Teruno continued, "Current estimates are that a direct assault would result in high casualties--especially for us."

    "Who has responded to the situation?" Kerry asked.

    "Coruscant police and the Air Fleet," Teruno said.

    "This is the seat of Republican government and local authorities are responding?" Kerry said with disgust, "Get me whoever thinks they're in charge of this situation immediately."

    "Madam Chancellor, we are ready to patch you into Air Fleet command, which is coordinating all efforts."

    Kerry nodded. Almost immediately, she was patched in via holoconference. "Gentlebeings, good afternoon. I am hereby invoking my authority as commander in chief of the Republic to assume full command and responsibility for this situation. I am hereby dispatching the First Fleet and its associated ground forces to reinforce your secure perimeter. I want hourly updates on the situation, at a minimum. All forces are to hold the perimeter and take no action of any sort without explicit approval from me. I want absolutely no provocation given to Mornd. We have hostages in there, including Galactic Senators. I want High Command assembled immediately. I am ordering the defense condition raised to 3. Thank you, that will be all for right now."

    The link was severed. "Assemble my Cabinet," she instructed, "Beyond the confirmed dozen, does the Senatorial Guard have any idea how many Senators are among the hostages?"

    "We are currently in the process of performing a headcount to make sure the logs are accurate," a representative from the Guard said.

    Kerry nodded and was silent. And then she slammed her hand on the table, the open palm smacking loudly. "How the frak did this happen?" she yelled, "How does a psychotic mad man get this many troops together without us knowing about it?"

    "Mornd was on our radar, but none of our intelligence pointed to an attack on the Senate," Teruno said.

    "When this is over, beings are going to lose their jobs," Kerry said darkly, looking right at her Republican Intelligence chief. She didn't wait for his reply but stood. "The Holonet is going to have this by now. A statement needs to be made."

    "We're working on drafting one already," an aide said.

    Someone tapped Kerry on the shoulder. She turned her head. "Your son and daughter have been secured," was the whisper that she received. Kerry gave a nod and dismissed the speaker with a the slight motion of a couple fingers.

    The Chancellor remained standing and looked at nothing as her mind wandered and wondered what Mornd was up to.

    Tag: Jedi Gunny

  3. Trieste

    Trieste Force Ghost star 5

    Apr 10, 2010
    GM Post

    ONDERON--With less than 24 hours to go before Onderon and Ryloth square off for the Skywalker Conference Championship, HSN Sports' queries to the Elite League regarding the status of all stars Jenna Leed and Zeke Barbosa have been rebuffed.

    "The League is committed to maintaining the integrity of the sport," League General Counsel Esther Gondorf said. Gondorf is on Onderon to present the victor of tomorrow's match with the Skywalker Conference Trophy. "That is our number one priority." When asked how the League intends to do that, Gondorf simply said, "We have a proposal before the Crazy Dragons and the Rough Riders right now. I'm not going to comment on ongoing proceedings." Gondorf was then asked if the League had a plan if negotiations fell through. "Yes, absolutely," was her reply.

    The betting markets are going wild. Speculations that "the fix" is in have already abounded and are threatening to tarnish the League's image. Gondorf said of these developments, "There is no fix. Elite League games are never fixed. The truth is anyone who says that this game is fixed doesn't know what's going on in the room. This situation will be handled, I guarantee it, by game time tomorrow."

    For now, the galaxy will watch and wait as this love story-turned-sports scandal unfolds.

    Tag: JediMaster_1977 Teegirloo
  4. JM_1977

    JM_1977 Jedi Master star 6

    May 23, 2011
    IC: Zeke Barbosa
    Hyperspace, en route to Onderon, aboard the team shuttle

    Zeke was furious.

    This time last week he had never been more happy. He had just gotten engaged to the love of his life and had also just won his team's Quarterfinal's match putting them one step closer to the Galactic Cup Final. Then the day afterwards the Commissioner of the ELL called up Jenna and him and told them that one of them had to sit out of this game to make sure it didn't seem like they would throw the game for the other person. Zeke had never heard something so outrageous in his life, but he had kept his cool and told the GM that something was in the works to resolve this situation. That something was across the aisle from Zeke on the shuttle.

    Fravid Deeese, who had just been released from Jail, was giving Zeke on of his infamous smirks. "Well, well, well. After all the trouble I've gone through in my life and you willingly give up your starting spot. If I knew getting you engaged to a rival teams star player I would've hooked you up with Chelsea Zedrin from High school a long time ago."

    Fravid never stopped with the high school references. Chelsea was his high schools arch rival's Star forward who made Zeke look like a wallowing Hutt every time the two teams played. Fravid and her dated for a while, but it ended very quickly. "Don't flatter yourself. I had to step down for this game by request of the Commissioner himself. You should be thanking me. I'm the one who suggested getting you out to take my spot in this game."

    Fravid snorted obviously amused by this comment. "So you do need me. How charming."

    "Just don't sabotage the game for us. If we make the title game you will get credit and maybe, just maybe, be reinstate back onto this team."

    This comment clearly had peaked Fravid's interest. With that he became quiet and sat back in his seat not acknowledging Zeke or anyone else on the shuttle the rest of the trip.


    On Onderon, 30 minutes before kickoff

    The team was out on the field, and Zeke felt naked not on the field with his team mates doing pre-game warm ups, but he new he was doing the right thing. He let the thought of possibly getting to play in the title next week push down his still boiling anger. He located Jenna on the opposite side of the field and smiled at her knowing she was already zone in and ready to go. Zeke then glanced over at Fravid in the Rough Riders goal. Zeke was surprised to see that Fravid was actually looking sincere and taking this seriously. Zeke just hoped that it carried through the entire game. He walked over, picked up a water bottle, and braced himself for the most intense game of Limmie yet this season knowing the stakes were higher then ever.

    TAG: Teegirloo
  5. Bardan_Jusik

    Bardan_Jusik Mand'alor - Manager of EUC, SWC and Anthology/BtS star 10 Staff Member Manager

    Dec 14, 2009

    IC: Beskaryc Taab
    Meshla Vhetin, Keldabe, manda'yaim.

    Finally, after several years spent in relative obscurity, the playoffs had returned to manda'yaim. The air was electric as the Mandalorian fans streamed into the stadium, their excitement palpable with their team's position. The Mercs had yet to lose a home game this season and now just one more win and they were off to the Galactic Cup finals. It was a heady feeling to all involved, from the ownership down through the coaching staff and players on the pitch. Even the vendors in the stands could feel it. They had gone from worst to first this season, and though Vhett wasn't able to enjoy it (she was busy on the comm lines trying to improve the team for next season), Taab certainly was.

    But deep down they all knew that this would be no easy task. Standing in their way were the Coruscant Senators, a team that had drubbed them 40-24 on Coruscant earlier in the season. Now both teams would be fighting to return to Andromeda Steel Corp. Field, to play for an ELL title. The Senators of course and even further reason to fight, the late Gark S'rily had meant so much to them as an organization. For his death to occur under such...odd circumstances could only help to steel them further.

    And the Merc's organization would honor what the Bothan had done, both on and off the field. But not with a moment of silence, instead holo-recordings of his exploits were shown on the Holo-tron that dominated the sky scape above midfield. This brought about cheers and the thumping of chest plates from the fans. The Mandalorians had no word for hero in their language, doing one's duty, even going above and beyond, was simply expected of them. But Gark S'rily deserved to be remembered for what he had done, and they recognized that.

    It also helped to not "bring down" the racous crowd at the Meshla Vhetin, which was once again packed to capacity. The start of the traditional dha werda verda spurred them on even more. Still Taab had his concerns for this game. They had lost Ryi Kor'le and now Kote this season. Both of their replacements were young rookie players, how would they handle the stress of their first playoff game? Could they rid themselves of their pre-game jitters and propel the Mercs to their first appearance in the Galactic Cup Finals?

    The war chant ended, and the teams both prepared for the coin flip. the game would start shortly, and then Taab's questions would be answered. For now all he and the four and half million assembled fans in the stadium could do was enjoy the big dance that was the playoffs.

    TAG: Jedi Gunny.

  6. Trieste

    Trieste Force Ghost star 5

    Apr 10, 2010
    GM Post

    Bonus rolls for this week to Coruscant, Onderon, Mando'ade, and Ryloth. Banked bonus rolls for 273 to Bakura, Rydonni Prime, and Vandelhelm.

    Galactic Cup Playoffs

    Galactic Cup Semifinals
    (2) Ryloth Rough Riders at (1) Onderon Crazy Dragons (33-19)
    (3) Coruscant Senators at (1) Mando'ade Mercs (9-9, OT 14-16)

    The 117th Galactic Cup Final
    Andromeda Steel Corp. Field, Coruscant
    (2) Ryloth Rough Riders vs. (1) Mando’ade Mercs

    Great Iziz Field, Onderon

    When the handshake line was concluded, Esther Gondorf walked to the middle of the field. A Barabel placed a shining trophy on the table. Once he finished, Gondorf raised a microphone to her mouth. "Let's take a moment to congratulate the Crazy Dragons on an outstanding season," Gondorf said, "It truly was an excellent season for them. Today, however, the Ryloth Rough Riders have taken the crown as the Skywalker Conference Champions."

    And now was the moment of great irony.

    "At this time, I invite Zeke Barbosa, capain of the Rough Riders, to accept the Skywalker Conference Trophy," Esther said.

    Mesh'la Vhetin, Keldabe, Mandalore

    A similar scene played out elsewhere in the galaxy. Executive Vice President Wonkeek, a Kubaz, stood beside a different trophy in the middle of the gigantic limmie stadium. "Gentlebeings, let's congratulate the Coruscant Senators on a fantastic game and a great season," Wonkeek said, "It took more than sixty minutes, but we now have our Solo Conference champions. I now invite the captain of the Mercs, Ryi Kor'le to come get the Solo Conference Trophy."

    GCLA Playoffs
    (6) Ylesia Lightning at (1) Chandrila Patriots (31-23)
    (5) Ord Mantell Scrappers at (2) Corellia Rebels (33-5)

    GCLA Final
    (6) Ylesia Lightning at (5) Ord Mantell Scrappers

    Tag: Bardan_Jusik Jedi Gunny JediMaster_1977 Rebecca_Daniels Teegirloo
  7. Jedi Gunny

    Jedi Gunny Yahtzee Host star 9 VIP - Game Host

    May 20, 2008
    IC: The Supporting Cast

    “Now what?” Bucky asked.

    “We don’t have a choice,” Nat said. “We need to get into the Senate chambers and free those people. Otherwise, Mornd’s going to kill all of them and depose the Senate entirely. There won’t be anyone left if we don’t step in.”

    “And how do you suggest we do that?” Duckett asked. “The police have not been able to get inside for several days. Yet we are supposed to do better?”

    “Look, tough guy. Do you want to take Mornd down or not?” the Hapan asked, with a deadly serious look on her face.

    “Of course,” the Feeorin replied. “But it is too risky . . .”

    “And I’m sure what we’ve already done was a piece of cake, right?” Nat snorted. “It’s going to get tough, but it’s our job. We want to take down Mornd, we have to do it the old-fashioned way; by taking risks. It’s going to be a slog to get in there, and I don’t doubt that we’ll be completely bruised afterwards, but this needs to go down. If we’re afraid to take risks, then Mornd has already won.”

    “Nat’s right,” Dun Dun finally said. “We need to act.”

    “And how do you suppose we do that?” Bucky asked. “Mornd’s got the place locked down so damn tight that we can’t get in.”

    “The ducts,” Nat said simply.

    “Excuse me?” Dun Dun asked.

    “You heard me,” the woman said again. “We’re going through the ducts. They should not be well-defended, and what soldiers we find there we can easily dispatch without raising the alarm.”

    “Because you’re the only one who can fit, right?” Dun Dun asked cynically. “If you haven’t noticed, not all of us can just slip right into a tiny ventilation shaft and move right along. Some of us are going to be carrying ammo . . .”

    “You’re such a pansy, Dun Dun,” Nat shot back. The man, sensing her wrath, became quiet. “We were all fooled on that last move. I do not intend for that to happen again. Like they say, ‘Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me’ . . . or something like that. Anyways, we can’t let Mornd get away with this.”

    “Fine,” Duckett finally said. “But you need to give us time to get through the ducts.”

    “I’ll just clear the way for you lugs, then,” the Hapan said. “Not too hard.”


    IC: Calo Mornd
    Senate chambers, Chancellor’s Office

    Calo stroked the trigger on his trusty blaster pistol once again, feeling its smoothness against his skin. This pistol was his best friend; he had used it many a time to finish off his enemies, and now its kill list included one superhero and extreme nemesis. Some thugs etched marks into their weapons to demarcate kills with it, but Calo wasn’t that crude. He preferred to keep the weapon nice and presentable; all the better to kill his enemies as they stared helplessly down at its shiny chrome exterior.

    Not much had occurred over the last few days regarding the hostage situation he had created here in the Senate chambers. The police had frequently been trying to bust him and free the senators, but that had fallen into his plan. All of the crime lords who had attended his gala (which had been cut unfortunately short, but that problem had been taken care of by now) had chipped in their support, tying up CorPD and related police forces by drawing them away from the Senate. It had been a tense few days for the warring forces, but by all indication Calo’s forces were winning the fight. People in the streets were terrified to go out after dark lest they be abducted by the criminal forces and never seen by their friends and family again.

    He was currently sitting in the Supreme Chancellor’s office, which, by all standards, was easily the best office space in the entire establishment. The desk was enormous, and was filled with various pieces of flimsy, datapads with bits of information on various struggles going on around the Core, and some Miners paraphernalia. Calo had to laugh at that; the fact that the Chancellor herself had time for such a useless pastime as that was pitiful. Here she was, controlling he entire Senate, and yet she couldn’t even stop him from invading the place and now sit in her office. Where was that Bakuran resolve now, he mused with a grin.

    His thought process was shaken when one of his commanders came up to him and then saluted. Calo nodded to the man, who then began to relay his message.

    “Boss, we have some news crews that are interested in talking to you,” said the officer. “Shall I let them inside?”

    “And why do you think I would let such a breach of security occur?” Calo asked seriously. The commander sat there, frozen by this query. “I have no intention of letting any of those media scum into my perfect Senate building. However . . .” he said, catching the commander off-guard once again. “Tell them that I offer a video stream of my own. Get IT working on a few of those camera droids. I have a few ideas of what to give the public; give them a little preview of what’s to come.”

    “Right away,” the commander said, saluting once again before leaving the office. Calo picked up his pistol off the table once again and began to clean it. Perhaps he was obsessed with keeping it clean, but on the other hand, having a clean murder weapon certainly gave him confidence. There was nothing better to ease an aching conscience than a smoking gun and a dead body in front of it. Oh how he loved the beauty of it all.



    Dun Dun smacked the last trooper aside in the misty rain, sending the man flying over into the corner.

    “Stop being so damn loud, meathead!” Nat hissed. Her hair was already wetted down in the mist.

    “Sor-ry,” Dun Dun replied, rolling his eyes. “He deserved every ounce of that last hit.”

    The five agents, X included, had busted their way through the security screen of CorPD and other associated forces, and that of Mornd’s troops as well, without being noticed, and were now staring down one of the ventilation shafts that led into the building. It had been a murderous job not being noticed, considering how large Dun Dun and Duckett were. Several times they had almost been spotted by the forces of the Republican Fleet, but a few knockouts here and there of stragglers was, in this case, justified, mostly because the Fleet was too afraid to try a frontal assault on the chambers. At least the agents here were actually going to do something.

    “Looks a little small,” Duckett commented. “Are you sure this will work?” he asked Nat.

    “Of course,” she replied. “It has to work. Now, give me a boost.” Duckett looked confused; what did she mean by that. Nat scoffed at this lack of comprehension on the part of the Feeorin and grabbed his hands. She pushed them together tightly and then put her foot on top of them. “Hoist me up,” she commanded. Duckett did as he was told, and up Nat went. She grasped the bars on the screen that covered up the shaft, and then with a mighty tug tore the screen loose from its moorings. Tossing it down to Dun Dun, she hauled herself up and stuck her head into the shaft. “Plenty of room,” she said. “I’m going on ahead. Catch me up.” With that, she disappeared into the dark void of the shaft.

    Bucky shrugged, and then climbed up on Duckett’s hands as well. The Feeorin gave him a boost, and Bucky was quickly inside the shaft as well behind the Hapan. X quickly followed, leaving only Duckett and Dun Dun.

    “Only two of us left,” Dun Dun remarked with a sly grin. “Who gets to lift the other?”

    “Get up there,” Duckett said, rolling his eyes. Dun Dun did so, but it was difficult for the Feeorin to keep Dun Dun steady because he was a lot heavier than the other three. With a grunt, Duckett pushed Dun Dun up to the vent, which he grabbed with his meaty hands and hauled himself into. However, as he swung into the vent, Dun Dun’s head collided hard with the edge, and he yelled out in pain.

    “Dammit!” he shouted.

    “Shh!” Duckett hissed at him. “Be quiet!”

    “Sorry,” Dun Dun said, grabbing his head with a hand to stop the pain that was throbbing through it. Taking a few seconds to let the pain subside, he finally disappeared inside the shaft, leaving Duckett alone outside. The Feeorin took a long look around to make sure that the coast was clear, and then grabbed the ventilation shaft grill. He jumped up and grabbed a hold of the ledge leading into the shaft and hoisted himself up, still holding the grill in the other hand. It took some finagling, but he was finally able to slip himself in head-first into the shaft. The grill, which he had perched in between his feet, was now perfectly lined up with the opening, and with a swift kick, Duckett pushed in back into place. It wasn’t locked up like it had been before Nat ripped it loose, but it would at least cover their trail to the untrained eye.

    The ventilation shaft was extremely dark; only a bit of light coming from outside lit the way for the five agents as they wormed their way through the shaft. Nat looked around behind her to see several dark blobs following close behind, and then continued on. She had done much more difficult infiltration operations than this in her career; crawling through ducts was actually a rather menial operation in her typical line of work, but it was effective. Well, unless someone sneezed; then the whole thing could be blown. It had happened before; she had almost been shot three times when stuck in a duct with another operative years earlier, and had only escaped because the duct fell apart after the shots had been fired and had taken out the hostile party below without her even needing to fight. Now she just needed to hope that the duct work was heavy-duty enough to support all of them as they passed into the inner workings of the building.

    After several minutes, Nat came to the other end of the shaft. Looking down, she could see that it spit out into a side hallway, one that was dimly lit. Eyeing no enemy troopers, she signaled the other others, who, of course, couldn’t see much more than a dark blob in their vision as her hand went up into the air. “Follow me,” she whispered. With some poking around in the dark, she was able to pop the grill loose. Unfortunately, as she tried to transfer it into her other hand, it slipped and fell down to the floor below with a mighty crash. Nat winced; that would definitely blow their cover.

    “What was that?” Bucky asked from behind her.

    “Shh!” Nat hissed.

    A trooper came running into view. The man looked down at the grill on the floor, and then back up at the duct. “Damn thing,” he said. “I hate it when they keep popping off when we run the ventilation system . . .” Grabbing a chair, he slid it over to the wall and climbed up, grill in hand. When he got up to the shaft, he reached up to place the grill in its proper place. However, a hand grabbed his arm and gave it a twist. The man, shocked by this turn of events, had no idea how to respond to this act. Nat, who was now half-dangling out of the vent, grabbed the grill and smacked the trooper over the head with it. He fell off the chair onto the ground, out cold. Nat then leaped out of the vent, grabbing the chair as she went. Her weight tipped the chair over, but it was enough to help her land on the hard ground. She winced in pain, and then looked up. Bucky’s head was sticking out of the vent, his mouth agape.

    “How did you do that?” the sniper asked incredulously.

    “Just get down here,” Nat snapped.

    “You really think I can do that?” Bucky asked. “There’s no way . . .”

    He then felt himself pushed from behind by X, and he landed hard on the floor below.

    “That way,” X commented as he looked down on the other two.

    “Thanks for the warning,” Bucky groaned as he rubbed his arm, which had come down on the floor hard upon impact.

    “Anytime,” X said with a mischievous grin.

    When all five agents had gotten down from the shaft, most of them in a rather painful manner, it was time to formulate a plan. “If we are correct,” X began, “Mornd is down in the main Senate chambers along with the Senators. We need to make our way down there, but quietly so that we’re not noticed. Bucky, you need to then set up a perch to watch the action, and to be our eyes and ears. Dun Dun, you need to create a distraction. Try to get some of those troopers down there to follow you. Duckett, hack into the security mainframe and see what you can do. Nat’alia and I will get down there and try to save the Senators.”

    “Why does this plan sound so familiar?” Bucky asked.

    “Episode 81 of Galactic Quest,” Dun Dun said. “The episode where Frid creates the hologram, the Wall of Fire.”

    “Well how in the hell is Duckett supposed to create a hologram?” Nat snapped.

    “I don’t know,” Dun Dun said with a shrug. “I was just saying . . .”

    “Besides, I didn’t think you watched holos,” Nat said.

    “I did when I was younger, OK?” the hefty man replied sheepishly.

    “This bickering is ludicrous!” X interjected. “We don’t have time to argue about this. Lives are at stake now, and every passing moment we argue about what we should do, the more likely Mornd’s going to try and pull something.”

    “Agreed,” Duckett said. “We need to move out.”

    “Fine, then. That show sucked, anyways,” Nat said.

    “No it didn’t,” Dun Dun retorted.

    “Oh give it a rest, would you?” Bucky said, shaking his head.

    The agents fanned out according to X’s plan. Bucky, not running into any guards, found a nice perch along the upper rows of offices. He finally was able to find the Senate chamber and took up residence in one of the upper-most pods. Here he waited; it was up to the others to make something happen.

    X and Nat ran through the various corridors as they made their way to the Senate chamber. “Any idea on how we defeat fifty guards armed with blasters?” Nat asked as they ran.

    “Kill them before they kill us,” X said simply.

    “Oh, great,” Nat said. “Just what I needed to hear.”


    “The feed is live, sir!” said the IT man. Calo stared into the nearby camera droid as he sat in the Chancellor’s office, smug grin and all. It was a look of pure enjoyment of the situation.

    “Hello, good people,” he said in that trademarked evil voice of his. “No doubt in my mind that by now you have heard that I am holed up here in the Senate chambers. It was quite easy, really, to get in here. Anyways, I want you all to know that I am taking good . . . care of your Senators who are in my custody right now. Show them,” he said.

    The camera feed changed. This one showed the entire room full of Senators, most of them unsure of what was about to happen. About twenty troopers stood above them, blasters at the ready. “As you can see,” Mornd continued, “unless my demands are met, they die one by one. I challenge the Supreme Chancellor herself to come save her precious Senate. Come alone, and I mean it. If you do not follow this command, I will be forced to slaughter the whole room just to get my point across. Therefore, do not try and trifle with me. We are both rational people; we both know that there is only one way this is settled, by you coming here, alone, to have a little chat. Until then, I shall kill one Senator every fifteen minutes until you arrive. Starting with this one.”

    The camera showed the human Senator of Coruscant itself being roughly thrown down into the camera view. The man had a look of utter terror on his face, and it only got worse when his arms were thrust behind his back.

    “If you are not counting on me to actually do as I say, you are sorely mistaken. Kill him.”


    The Senator was put in position as a firing squad of two troopers hovered behind him, blasters at the ready. Everything in the room seemed to hang, almost as if time itself had decided to take a break. Then the order was given, and the Senator was shot dead on the spot, the look of utter terror still on his glassy eyes as his body fell to the floor limply.


    “Such a pity, really,” Mornd mused to the camera as it went back to him. “I am not one to be disappointed, so if you value your senators at all, Madam Chancellor, I suggest you come over here before I do more damage.” With that, the feed cut. Calo let out a small laugh; he was loving every minute of this.


    IC: Me’lin

    Me’lin watched, like trillions of others around the galaxy, in horror on the HoloNet as the body of the Senator of Coruscant hit the floor, stone dead. When Mornd’s face appeared back on the screen, all she could do was turn away to not have to stare at that again. It was that twisted man that had put her in this wretched state in the first place. If she had the chance, if somehow the stars aligned and she had an opportunity, she would gladly wring his neck. She was never a violent person, but there was a part of her that wanted to watch him die, wanted to watch the life be sucked out of him as she firmly held her hands around his neck and choked the energy out of his body. The writhing he would do, the wild eyes, the mercy he would undoubtedly ask for, none of that would work. She wanted him to pay for what he had done.

    For the last two weeks, she had shut herself up in her apartment, not even answering the door. The Senators Front Office had called several times to know where she was, but she never responded. Even X had come calling a few times, but she never answered the door. She hardly ate, and hardly ever slept. All she did was sit in front of her HoloNet screen, staring at it blankly as she tried to choke back the tears that would come down her cheeks as she remembered that fateful day.

    It was odd how she had taken Gark’s death so seriously, considering that he had only really asked her about these kinds of things the week before he had been murdered in cold blood. But it wasn’t that bit that was slowly killing the Twi’lek inside; it was the way he had looked at her that last time she had seen him. She could still vividly remember the stern, yet troubled, look in his eyes, a mixture of determination and copious amounts of fear that headlined his blank expression. He had seemed most vulnerable then, and now no one would have to see his eyes one more time and feel haunted by them. Just the way that he presented himself, wearing his super suit but not really believing that he was going to save the day again. Maybe he was a fool for hoping that he would survive. His sense of courage was astounding, but Me’lin wished that he had been smart enough to not go. She didn’t want to players to have been hurt, but for some reason, their well-being was not as important to her as his was.

    As Mornd’s face went off, and the regular news crew popped back up, Me’lin yelled out in an agonizing fashion and buried her face in a pillow on a bed, sobbing as she went. She had cried so much recently that it her eye muscles screamed out with soreness, but she couldn’t control the waterworks that streamed down from her eyes once more, dampening her pillow as they slowly dropped onto the fabric. Mornd had taken more than the Limmie coach from the Senator faithful; he had taken the most important thing in her life away from her in as cruel a way possible, and there was no going back.


    X and Nat watched in horror as the body of the Senator fell to the ground limply from the blaster shot. “The -----“ Nat exclaimed, using an extremely strong expletive as she went. “What has he done?”

    “We need to stop him before he does any more,” X said, trying to remain calm. But doing so was difficult under these conditions; the game had changed dramatically.


    Bucky saw the senator die from his perch up above the Senate chamber. He couldn’t believe it; Mornd had actually killed a senator in cold blood. He wanted to lift his sniper rifle and shoot down all of the troopers down below, but he probably would be long dead before that point if his location was found out. So there he sat, in a state of horror and confusion. Even though he was a sniper, and was used to killing people indifferently, there was something about this murder that griped him. Mornd had to pay for his crimes.


    Calo looked at the chrono on the wall. Perfect; fifteen minutes had passed, and none of his security checkpoints had reported the Chancellor coming in to chat with him. Thus, he looked at the commander standing not too far away from him. “Commander, it’s time to get another victim.”

    “Yes, Boss,” the man replied. “Any preferences?”

    “Let’s see,” Calo said, drumming his fingertips on the desk as he thought. “How about that useless Senator from Chandrila? Big enough world to really get the Chancellor’s attention.”

    “Boss, if memory serves me correct, Bakurans have a blatant distaste for Chandrilans,” the commander commented.

    “But they are an ally nonetheless,” Calo mused. “Kill her immediately.”

    “As you wish,” the commander replied firmly. Grabbing his comlink, he spoke into it. “Kill the Chandrilan immediately.”

    “Prepare the feed,” Calo said to the IT operator standing in the back. The man did as he was told, and the camera droid came to life once again.

    “It’s been fifteen minutes,” Calo began, “and still no sign of your Chancellor, people of the Republic. Therefore, it’s time for me to kill off another worthless life. Feast your eyes,” he said. The camera once again switched to the main floor. The Senator of Chandrila, a rather-attractive looking female, was thrown forwards next to the body of the dead Coruscanti Senator. As with the now-dead politician, her hands were grabbed and thrust behind her back, and her head was leveled to look straight at the camera.

    “Such a pity, really,” Calo commented. “Killing such a pretty one such as her, it’s very depressing to know that no one cares enough to save her. But, I am a man of my word, and I have my conditions. Thus, she dies not because of me, but because of you, Chancellor. This will add a second body to your guilty conscience, in case you are keeping count. What a pity . . . what a pity . . .”


    X and Nat watched as the Chandrilan Senator was ready to be shot by Mornd’s troopers. “A plan would be pretty hot,” the Hapan hissed.

    “There are too many of them,” X said. “We can’t just run into them and expect to win. We need to strategize.”

    “What strategy is there at a time like this?” Nat asked, abhorred. “Since when have we ever had a plan?”

    “Touché,” X replied. “We just need to wait for Dun Dun to set up his perimeter, and then we’ll move in. Any second now . . .”


    Dun Dun laid another charge in his row of explosives. As he mulled over which ones to use for the diversion strategy, he was reminded how hungry he was. They hadn’t eaten well the last few days, and his stomach was starting to bother him. What he would give for a nice, juicy nerf steak right about now . . .


    Calo eagerly watched the monitor as one of his soldiers readied to kill off the second hostage. He had to admit; most people wouldn’t have the guts to pull something like this off, but he had been to the edge and back. Most of them out there hadn’t gone to jail on a trumped-up life sentence, even though he had been guilty all along. But he had toughened himself up in jail; gone was the wishy-washy version of himself, the one that decided to hide itself behind a veil of lies and deceit. Now he was strong, and was capable of finishing jobs by himself. Jail was never fun, but it had allowed him to reinvent himself. The old Calo Mornd had been a punk, a rich-boy punk. Now he was a trained killer, one in charge of a large standing army. And he intended to use it.

    “Move her into position,” he relayed to the troopers in the chamber. A wry grin formed on his face; he was enjoying every minute of this.

    “Ya know, Calo, for being a supervillain and all, you certainly have a peculiar taste in master plans.”

    Those words cut through Calo’s perfect dream just like a very sharp butter knife. They sounded . . . familiar, almost like a dream. No . . . He snapped his head to the side to see where the voice had come from.


    Gark S’rily, still dressed in his funky black and orange superhero suit, was staring at him with a witty grin on his face and waggling his index finger from side to side in an amusing manner.

    “What . . . bhab . . . how?” Calo thundered. The camera followed these events to show Gark in the frame along with his nemesis. No doubt the viewers at home thought that this was impossible. S’rily was dead; was this an imposter?

    “There are a lot of things I could say to answer your question,” Gark replied. “But, if you must insist . . .” he said. He then reached into the bottom of his suit and then gave something in there a tug. A light-looking silver breastplate hit the ground with a clatter, a small scorch mark on it in the spot where Gark had been hit by Calo’s blaster bolt. “It looks like this body armor actually did its job; I think its inventor would be happy to know that it worked like a charm.”

    “How are you still alive?” Calo yelled, his face contorting with rage. “I shot you right in the chest!”

    “Long story,” Gark said. “But, to make it short, that little thing,” he said, pointing to the armor, “saved my life.”


    Weeks earlier . . .

    Gark looked around the Bothancave, sighing heavily as he went. Mornd was intent on killing his players, and he wasn’t going to let that happen, even if it meant his own demise in the process. Calo was a smart man, but Gark wasn’t going to let him get the last laugh. As he pulled on his suit, Gark remembered that Plyer had recently mentioned something about blaster-proof body armor. Now, the concept of body armor had long been produced throughout the galaxy, but according to the Whipid tech specialist, this body armor was special. Why that was, the Bothan had no idea, but there was not time to deliberate on such subjects. He had to act decisively.

    Gark wandered over to one of Plyer’s lab tables. Sitting upon it were some strange-looking knives, a few trashed pieces of metal, and then a few prototype body armor pieces. Picking one up in his hand, Gark marveled at how lightweight it was. It was no heavier than a datapad, and when he rapped on it with his knuckle, he could feel its solid composite makeup. It was amazing to see how Plyer had been able to pull something like this off, considering how little there really could be done beyond what already had been accomplished for body armor styles. Gark reached down and opened up his suit, sliding the body armor plate in underneath it. Although it was a prototype, and thus would not be the most effective at this time, Gark wasn’t too worried about it. He had faith in Plyer to put together a working prototype. Poking his chest several times to make sure that the plate had been placed in its spot securely, Gark grabbed his mask and walked out of the cave to meet his destiny.


    Gark slowly opened his eyes, and suddenly tried to shut them as he saw his completely white surroundings. Was he in a hospital or something, because the background certainly seemed bleached. Opening his eyes once again, his vision started to blur. Sitting up woozily, he looked into the distance. A dark blur was sitting on what looked like a seat of some kind . . . what was going on? Where was Calo? Where were his players? But, most importantly, where was he?

    Taking a wobbly step forwards once he gained his balance, Gark found that the going was relatively easy. It was almost as if he wasn’t walking on a hard surface at all; instead, he was literally walking on dead space. He walked over to the seat, which was now in the shape of a bench. The dark figure that had once been a blur came into focus. Gark raised his eyebrow; what was all this about?

    “Excuse me . . .” Gark asked.

    “Hello, son,” the figure said.

    “Dad?” Gark replied, perplexed. The figure turned around and revealed his face, that of Gark’s father, Gille S’rily. There were several seconds of silence as the two Bothans stared at each other, Gark looking utterly confused and Gille giving his son a sagely look. “Am I dead?” Gark finally asked.

    “No, at least not yet,” his father replied. “But you are very close to it. There are some wise men who would call this a state between life and death, somewhere in the netherworld.”

    “How can I not be alive, yet not be dead?” Gark asked.

    “How should I know?” Gille asked. “I’m not really here.”

    “What?” Gark replied quizzically. This was starting to play out like one of those cheap holo dramas.

    “Look, son, it’s a long story to explain this, but all you need to know is that you are not dead. Therefore, I can offer you advice.”

    “Advice?” Gark asked. “I still don’t . . .”

    “Do not ask any more questions,” Gille replied gently. “Everything will be explained in time. Now, sit.” He moved over, leaving some room open for Gark on the bench. The younger S’rily obliged and sat down.

    “Where am I?” Gark prodded immediately.

    “A dream state, of sorts. It feels physically real because of you being mortal, but it does not feel normal because this is all in your mind.”

    “What happened?” Gark asked. He very well knew the answer to this, but he was curious to grill his father, or whoever it was, some more. Surely his father could not really be contacting him in such a fashion. This would go down as one of the weirder revelation stories that had ever been given in the galaxy.

    “Mornd shot you in front of thousands of people,” Gille replied. “Don’t you remember?”

    “All I know is that I felt the shot, and then things went black,” Gark said, looking down at his paws. And then I wake up here . . .”

    “You’ve been knocked out cold for several days,” Gille said.

    “Several days?” Gark asked. “How is that possible?”

    “The body armor that you wore was not enough to keep you conscious after that blaster shot, especially considering how modified it was to add an extra punch, but it kept you alive, and that’s what matters,” his father said.

    Gark reached down and poked his suit where the body armor was located. He couldn’t feel a thing as he rapped his knuckle against it, but he knew it was still there because he could still feel it on his body.

    Then he saw something. A small black body writhed on the solid white “floor” next to the bench, but Gille was paying it no mind. “What’s that?” Gark asked, pointing down.

    “That is Calo Mornd,” Gille stated simply.

    “What? That’s impossible . . .” Gark stammered. “How . . .”

    “Mornd may be a big talker, but everything that he is now, and ever will be, is contained in that wretched soul you see there. You see, Mornd has become so evil that it is almost as if he tore his own soul out and replaced it with that of an evil spirit.”

    “What does this mean?” Gark replied. “I don’t understand.”

    “It’s his true self, frankly,” Gille said. “Inside, he is just a wretched little devil who has no avenue to vent his anger upon the galaxy outside of harming others. This is his weakness; you must exploit his narrow-mindedness in order to win.”

    “So you’re saying . . .”

    “You must face Calo Mornd again,” Gille said, nodding.

    “I can’t . . .” Gark said. “Undoubtedly he’s . . .”

    “If you doubt yourself, then Mornd has already won,” his father said, cutting Gark off mid-sentence. “The first moment you start to give up, the more someone like him will jump upon the opportunity. You let yourself be defeated because you didn’t lack training, or instinct, or heart. But because you gave up. Gave up because you saw the writing on the wall of the inevitable. Because you knew you were going to die. But it does not have to be that way; you have been given a second chance for a reason.”

    “I thought you weren’t spiritual,” Gark said.

    “I’m not, but that does not mean that you must admit defeat either. You are lucky to have survived this long; now you need to take this opportunity and seize it. You can defeat Mornd; you have something he doesn’t. Courage, bravery, guts. Someone like Mornd can only dream of having those things, and when you press him enough, he will implode. You have the power to reduce him to that state,” he said, motioning to the small blackened form of Mornd on the floor. “But because you also have the most powerful aspect of all. Heart.” He reached out and touched Gark in the chest. “The son I knew had the most heart around. He showed up everyone throughout school, in college, and in the business world. All of my friends were astonished to see how well you did, but I knew inside that you were capable of much more. And you were; you reached out and put a hurting team under your wing, and you brought it back to respectability. Although I was never a Limmie fan, I want you to know that your mother and I were rooting for you all the way, even if it was just a silly game. Because we believed that you knew what to do. Because you willed it so.”

    “What are you saying?” Gark asked, but his father continued to speak.

    “When Mornd killed your mother and I, the last thing I thought before leaving this galaxy was how you would take our deaths. I wasn’t worried about your competence at work or in Limmie, but I was afraid that all the guts you had shown to get there would go away once you knew we were gone. But you exceeded expectations. In fact, you smashed them. Listen, son, I know it may sound hopeless, because Mornd has powers that rival your own in terms of brute strength. But you have defeated him once before, and now you must do it again. I know you can. Now just go out there and prove me right.” With this, he stood up.

    “Dad, I . . . I want you to know that I won that last Galactic Cup for you and Mom,” Gark said quickly.

    “We know,” Gille replied quietly. “And we are still very proud of you, even if we no longer can say so.”

    “Is this real, or is it in my head?” Gark asked.

    “Of course it is in your head, Gark,” Gille said. “I am just a piece of your imagination. However, that being said, I want you to know one last thing. Just because we are gone does not mean that we are not still with you. Make us proud, son. Finish the job, and don’t look back. Last of all, never give up. Even when things look impossible, still fight on. The clouds will part for you when you keep trying.” The Bothan then started to move away into the white oblivion.

    “What should I say about this whole thing?” Gark asked, watching Gille walk away from him.

    “There is nothing to say,” Gille replied. “Send my regards to Ryal, and take care of yourself, son. Goodbye.” Gark’s father then disappeared into the whiteness, leaving Gark alone with the wretched form of Calo finally dead on the floor.

    Then Gark felt a tremendous tugging on his feet. It was as if a mighty gale had suddenly picked up, and was trying to bring Gark with it. The bench broke free from the “floor” and shot behind Gark into nothingness, as did the body of Mornd. Gark tried to move forwards, but then he was shot back. Tumbling end over end, Gark yelled out in surprise as he was dragged into a black pit. He tried to reach out and grab a hold of the last vestige of white remaining in his view, but the “wind” carried him into the black abyss.


    Gark shot awake, crashing his head into something solid in the dark. Reaching his arm up to rub his head, he could feel that he was stuck in some sort of confining thing. He prodded the barrier several times, and then things hit him. He had been buried in a coffin. Reaching his arms up, he tried to push the lid open and see the sky once again on his way to freedom, but his initial push was met by a solid downward force. Gark began to panic now; if he was truly underground, then it would only be a matter of time until he suffocated to death. “Hey, help!” he shouted several times at the top of his lungs. But no one came to his rescue. He was going to have to get out of this one on his own.

    Pushing up once again, Gark was finally able to crack the lid open against the pressure exerted by the dirt. A small stream of dirt poured onto his suit, and he brushed it off with his other hand. Putting all his might into shoving the lid open, he finally cracked it open far enough to escape. However, a cascade of dirt descended upon him, almost burying him in its moist structure. Hacking up a mouth full of dirt, Gark slipped out of the coffin and shut it tight behind him with a kick of his foot. The dirt slide had provided him with enough space to get out, but now he had to contend with an unknown amount of soil to get to the top, and a limited amount of time to do it. Pulling his suit over his mouth to keep the dirt out, Gark started to dig upwards. It was a tedious process, but every second he spent here was precious. His air was almost gone; if he didn’t escape here, it would be over for him.

    It took about half an hour for him to push his way up in the soil. Finally, his head popped out of the ground, and he was greeted by the slight wind that always blew through Andromeda Steel Corp. Stadium in this direction. The wind chilled his face as he gulped in huge breaths of air, finally coughing out the last vestiges of the dust that had stuck in the back of his throat. He was exhausted, but at least he was alive.

    It had been a real struggle to get anywhere in the stadium, especially for someone who had apparently been so close to death that he had been somewhere in between the living and dead. Finally, he was able to stagger and crawl to one of the concession stands on the 100-level. Plugging in the power cord, he started to cook a pretzel for himself. The smell of the item was tempting, and as soon as it was finished he grabbed it and stuck it in his mouth, promptly crashing on the floor right afterwards in his exhaustion. The pretzel was still a little cold, but he didn’t care. He stuffed it in his mouth, washing it down with a soda that he had found in a cooler still unopened. In his entire life, he had had many better meals than this one in terms of quality and nutrition, but he had never had such an important meal before. As the minutes passed, he felt more energized as the calories from the food began to burn inside his body. What had once been a nearly dead body running on adrenaline was now getting back to normal.

    Another sensation also began to make itself known. It was an unending source of rage. Mornd was going to pay for everything; if Gark wasn’t stuck in a concession stand regaining his strength, this would be over quickly. But Gark knew that he had to lay low for a while to recover. Only then could he heed his father’s advice and win Round 3 with Calo. Or was it his advice to himself, just put through a virtual manifestation of his father that existed in his mind?


    Calo’s ire was rising; how in the hell could his enemy have escaped death? This was impossible! Then another thought hit him, one that gave him inspiration. Even though Gark was not dead, Calo was going to make sure that changed. Superbothan may have cheated death once, but he was not going to do it a second time. This time, Calo would finish the job.

    Both men stared at each other for several seconds. Sweat ran down Calo’s face as he stared daggers at his counterpart, who looked content to ride this wave as long as he could before having to take action. “It is clear to me that I made a mistake in attempting to kill you then,” Calo finally said. “You now stand before me thinking that you are some kind of god.”

    “It doesn’t take a good actor to recognize a bad one. You’re sweating,” Gark replied with this newfound snappy demeanor.

    “You insolent fool,” Calo said, growling as he spoke. “You fail to realize that I’ve forced your hand. And I’m going to break your bones like they are tissue flimsy.”

    “And what you fail to realize, Calo, is that, in enraging me, you’ve stepped on a land mine,” Gark said.

    “I’m going to enjoy this,” Mornd spat.

    “Well, if you’re going to have a little bit of fun, then I’m all in. Except that you’re going to be eating dirt soon enough, and trust me, I know what dirt tastes like.”

    “And what would that be?” Mornd asked.

    “Dirt tastes like . . . well, dirt,” Gark replied. “Awful stuff, really. You don’t really want to eat it.”

    “Enough of your mind games!” Mornd shouted as he stood up and ran at Gark, fists curled up into balls. The Bothan, anticipating this, stepped back into the hallway. The fight was on.


    “I don't believe it,” Nat said agape, looking at X. “He’s alive. He’s really alive.”

    “Now’s our chance,” X said. “Go!” He then charged forwards towards the throng of soldiers, who had paused when Mornd had not given the execution order. Nat spoke into her comlink.

    “Fire!” she said to Dun Dun.

    “Got it!” the demolitions expert said.

    “Bucky, cover our backs!” Nat said.

    “Roger that,” the sniper replied.

    Stowing her comlink away, Nat followed X into the fight. It was going to be another uphill battle, but since when had their missions been easy?


    Dun Dun pressed a button, and then covered his ears. Several small rockets blasted out of their pods and rained down upon the hapless troopers down below on the Senate chamber floor. There was no going back now, since damage was going to be done to the Chamber.

    Bucky brought the scope on his rifle up to his eye. In the crosshairs, he could see a trooper attempt to shoot Nat in the side with is blaster. Fingering the trigger, Bucky finally punched it. The blaster bolt pierced the man in the chest, killing him instantly and dropping his body to the floor.


    “Ya know, Calo, for being a supervillain and all, you certainly have a peculiar taste in master plans.”

    Me’lin, bleary-eyed, looked up at the screen. Gark’s unwavering expression was the first thing that came to her eyes as she watched the HoloNet screen intently. This brought more tears to her eyes, but these were not of sorrow. They were of joy, of complete exuberance. He was alive after all! The Twi’lek crawled to the foot of the bed and watched as Gark talked down Mornd, who was obviously confused about how the Bothan had escaped.

    As the conversation between the two heated up, it was intriguing to see Gark’s reaction to Mornd’s annoyance. There was nothing like seeing a supposedly-dead victim come back to life just to torment the guilty party, especially in such a witty manner. Gark kept up this charade as he spoke, making Mornd more and more steamed about the situation. Eventually it had to boil over. Mornd was not a man of restraint; he seemed to always preach action, typically in a swift fashion.

    Finally, Mornd got up the courage and initiated the fight that everyone knew was coming at this juncture. Mornd wanted to get this done quickly, as did Gark, and the only way to do that was a fight to the death between the two of them. Me’lin, not thinking about specifics but clinging on to hope, tossed on the pair of jeans that had some encrusted sauce on it from a meal she had haphazardly prepared a few days earlier, and slipped into her sneakers and a light blue jacket on her way out the door. She was instantly greeted by a now-driving rain which soaked her face and clothes, but she didn’t care. Her mind was on the showdown going on at the Senate building; everything else faded into a state of temporary oblivion. If she had the chance, the first thing she would do would be to slap Gark for leading her to believe that he was dead, which consequently almost made her life self-destruct. But underlying this thought of rage was the hope that Gark had known what she had just gone through, and would try to make amends, first knocking off Mornd, and then apologizing to her for his tardiness. This dream plan faced long odds, but they were odds that Me’lin knew she was willing to take.


    Mornd brought down a hard chop from the right side, and Gark caught it with a parry from his left. This started a sequence of opening shots from both participants, neither willing to take the first major strike of the fight to the death. Gark knew that Calo wasn’t going to take the first move, but he wasn’t going to either. But Calo was enraged, and finally came shooting forwards with a vicious kick attempt. It hit Gark in the leg, but he was able to slide underneath Mornd’s foot and push it upwards. Mornd bounced on the spot to try and get the pain to subside in his leg.

    “You do realize that this is just the beginning,” he said.

    “Oh, I’m all aware,” Gark said. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

    Mornd charged forwards, and Gark did as well. Both men collided with each other, setting off a series of punches from both combatants that, for the most part, missed completely because of a block by the other party. Mornd sent a haymaker right at Gark’s head, but the Bothan was able to push Mornd’s hand down and keep the blow from landing on his face. Then, Gark swung around, letting his cape go at Mornd’s face. Calo was too fast, and grabbed the cape, twisting it in the process. Gark spun around slightly as he felt his body be dragged from its spot. Calo then smacked Gark across the side of the face, causing slight recoil on Gark’s head as it snapped back from the hit. Shaking that off, Gark bullrushed Calo and sunk his head into his enemy’s chest. With a loud growl, Gark pushed Calo forwards and then dumped him into a heap on the floor.

    It only took a second for Calo to jump back upright, upon which he blocked a few of Gark’s punches with relative ease. Then he proceeded to try a flurry of his own, all of them blocked by the Bothan except for the last one, which hit Gark in the side of the face. It wasn’t a hard hit, but it was enough to break Gark’s concentration. Calo took advantage of this and spun a kick around in mid-air. Gark caught Mornd’s foot with his hands and gave the leg a twist. Mornd yelled out in pain, but then he moved his foot around. The foot kicked Gark in the head, and he lost control of Mornd’s appendage. Mornd regrouped and then pummeled Gark with a pair of blows to the chest. The Bothan staggered backwards and took several deep breaths.

    “You fool,” Calo said. “There is no way you can defeat me. There will be no escape for you this time.”

    “Oh, I’m just warming up,” Gark said. Readying his fists once again, he continued the fight, punching Calo in the face with a solid move that went over Calo’s defensive block with his arm.


    Nat went down low and took out a trooper’s legs, causing the soldier to flip over her body and land down hard on the floor. “Get out of here!” she shouted to the Senators who had been trapped down on that floor for several days. Many of them stood and fled, but a few thought that it would be a good idea to stay and fight. One of them, a Mon Calamari, slapped a trooper’s helmet off, and then finished the trooper with a sickening-sounding headbutt. The trooper slumped down to the floor, completely dazed by the move.

    “Not bad,” Nat said.

    “Thank you,” the Mon Calamari said. “I had a great teacher.”

    “Street style?” Nat asked, chopping down a trooper attempting to hit her across the face.

    “Modified version of it,” the man said. “Added in some better footwork, though, to make up for deficiencies in its defensive pattern.”

    “Ah,” Nat replied. “Good to know.”

    She then saw one of the rockets that Dun Dun had released fly down and narrowly miss one of the troopers. The man fell down in shock, and was easily finished by X as he swept across the formation of troopers. Another soldier attempted to shoot X, but Nat pulled out her blaster and gunned the trooper down before he could get X in the back.

    “Thanks,” X said.

    “No problem,” Nat replied.


    The two combatants left the Senate chamber and made their way up to the upper levels of the building. Gark almost tripped on the plush red carpet that was on the floor, and Calo tried to take advantage of this by slashing down with a solid hammer move. Gark was somehow able to dodge the move, and then spun around with a solid kick. It nailed Calo in the leg, and he staggered backwards. Gark then took the offensive, proceeding to hit Calo with a series of small blows that would at least make him think twice about going back on the offensive. If there was anything that Nat’alia had taught him during all of those training sessions, it was to always take the offensive if possible. By setting up this screen for the main attack, his opponent would be out of position and unable to deal with the second wave of attacks.

    However, Calo Mornd was no fool. He hadn’t studied all of these martial arts styles for nothing. He knew that Gark was bluffing with this screen of quick moves, and was preparing for a major assault once he deemed his opponents’ defenses were sufficiently down to proceed. Calo took no time in bringing his foot up to block one of Gark’s strikes, and then he hit Gark on the arm to prevent another blow.

    “I’m on to you,” Calo said as the two had their arms locked against each other.

    Gark grunted as he readied his major assault. Taking a deep breath, he started to push his fists out in the direction of Mornd’s head. However, Calo dodged from side to side to avoid the blows, and then pushed both of his hands into Gark’s chest to set him back a bit. Calo, taking inventory of the situation, turned and ran to the nearby roof entrance. Gark kept up, but Calo kicked the Bothan in the face as he headed up the ladder that led to the roof. Gark slumped down and lost several seconds as Mornd disappeared through the roof door.

    Gark checked his bruises; he was taking a real beating thus far. He then readied himself to charge up through the door, but Bucky appeared in the hallway.

    “Bucky!” Gark yelled, catching the sniper’s attention.

    “Where’s Mornd?” Bucky asked. Gark pointed up to the door, and Bucky frowned. “You lost him?” he asked in a disappointed matter-of-fact tone that seemed to suit Nat’s personality more than the sniper.

    “Doubtful,” Gark replied. “He wants my head on a pike, so it’s doubtful that he’s going to run. I’m going up there to finish this. In case I don’t make it out . . .”

    “Don’t say that,” Bucky said, pointing. “I’m serious.”

    “We’ve always operated knowing that any missions may be our last. Why is this any different?” Gark asked, bewildered.

    “Ask Me’lin,” the sniper said.

    “What about her?” Gark said.

    “She hasn’t left her apartment ever since you were ‘killed’,” Bucky replied. “She took it very hard, and nothing we’ve done seems to have helped. If you two have something between you, then I really don’t care about how you sort it out amongst yourselves, but I think she’d prefer if you came back from this in one piece.”

    “I think I’d like to come out of this in one piece too, ya know” Gark said. “Anyways, just get the senators out of here. I’m going to finish this once and for all with Calo, no matter what it takes.”

    “Are you sure you don’t need backup?” Bucky said. “The last time you did something like this, you rushed into it without notifying us, and you paid the price for it. We’re your best friends in this situation, man; don’t make that mistake again.”

    “I . . . I won’t,” Gark replied. He then jumped up on the second rung of the ladder and popped out of sight. Bucky sighed and then ran to the turbolift. It was time to do some massive damage to those enemy troopers down below.

    Gark’s pushed open the door to the roof and stuck his head out into the elements. He was immediately met with a stiff wind pushing the driving rain right into his face. Jumping off the ladder and on to the roof, he closed the door behind him and then looked for Calo. The roof of the Senate building was nothing like what he had expected; except for one small pillar and some low-lying electrical boxes, it was completely devoid of major obstacles. In the darkness of the dimly-light sky, he couldn’t make out where Calo was. He didn’t like this situation at all.

    Finally, a flash of lightning passed nearby, and in the brilliant flash of light, Gark finally made out Calo’s shape in the distance. It was just a glimpse of his enemy, but it would be enough to at least initiate the fight once again. Gark took several steps forward, each one accompanied by a splash of water as his foot landed on the slick surface.

    “I must say that I am impressed,” Calo said, his hair matted back with the rain. Drops were streaming down his face as he stared Gark down, the water dripping onto the roof below. “You have learned quite well in such a short amount of time.”

    “I am a quick study,” Gark said back.

    “Fair enough,” Calo replied curtly. “But even a number of moves like what you have exhibited so far will not be enough to save you. I know everything in your book. All your moves, I learned them first, perfected them if possible. No matter what you throw at me, I will always be one step ahead, ready to skip your step and get right to the point. You may be good, but I am better. There is no way you can win this time.”

    “Then why are you running?” Gark challenged. “If you’re so good, then why run away? Why not fight me like a man?”

    “Are you taunting me?” Calo spat.

    “I think it depends on your point of view,” Gark said back. “But, yes, I challenge you. Prove to me that you’re so much better.”

    “Very well, then,” Calo replied icily. He drew two small objects from his pocket, and then placed one in each hand. “Let’s see how good Superbothan really is, shall we?” He then launched both projectiles at Gark. The Bothan easily dodged them, and they went skittering past. However, Calo was already on him, and Gark could feel the air being knocked out of him as a hard punch to the gut landed under his defense. Mornd then threw Gark to the ground. Gark hit the roof in a puddle of water, but was able to roll out of the way when Mornd tried to step on his face. Gark then spun around on one leg and kicked Calo’s legs from underneath him. Mornd tumbled onto his back as well, but only stayed there momentarily as he sprung right up once again.

    Mornd then charged forwards, fists ready to beat Gark once again. A haymaker from both arms came up at Gark, but the Bothan blocked both with a well-placed arm and pushed Mornd’s hands away. Gark then tried to elbow his nemesis in the face, but Calo easily blocked it. This went back and forth for several seconds, both combatants not giving an inch. Every time Gark tried to land a blow, Mornd was there to prevent it from hitting, and then would repulse Gark with strikes of his own. The two men were evenly matched in the pouring rain.

    Mornd sent Gark sprawling with a huge kick to the back. Gark hit the deck hard, and it took time get back to his feet. In the meantime, Calo had grabbed his blaster, and was now aiming it at Gark’s chest. “Without your special armor, this bolt will go through your pathetic suit and pierce your flesh, killing you instantly,” he said firmly.

    But before he could pull the trigger, Gark was right on top of him, jumping on Calo’s back and sending both elbows down on Calo’s head. Mornd tumbled down onto the roof, his blaster hitting the deck and sliding away from him. Although Mornd lunged for his weapon, Gark was able to get there first. He sent a vicious kick to the weapon, which under the slick conditions picked up steam from the accumulated water and slid right off the roof towards certain demise below. Mornd, not deterred too badly, grabbed a hold of Gark’s leg and headbutted it. Gark yelped out in pain, and grabbed his leg. Mornd got up and then sent a kick that knocked Gark’s other leg out from under him. The Bothan landed right on his face, and then Calo began to kick him in the side relentlessly. Gark grunted after each malicious blow, which were starting to take their toll. Thinking quickly, Gark flipped over as much as he could and landed a blow in Mornd’s face.

    Calo staggered backwards, holding his face as he did so. Using this break time, Gark stood up once more, but he could tell that his muscles were getting tired. Mornd was physically stronger and faster than Gark was, and this fight was draining his energy reserves.

    “You really think that you can defeat me?” Calo yelled over howling wind. “Look at you! You are a wreck in more ways than one!”

    “We shall see!” Gark yelled back. “This is not over yet!”

    “Oh, it will be,” Calo shot back. Both men ran towards each other and became tangled up with each other, Gark trying to land a blow on Calo’s midsection while Mornd attempted to take out Gark’s legs. Back and forth the two went, landing blow after blow while also trying to defend the soft spots in their defensive strategies. Mornd finally launched himself free by pushing off of Gark’s elbow, and then sent a hard fist right into Gark’s face. Blood spurted from Gark’s nose as it became dislocated, and the Bothan fell back onto the ground in pain. Mornd kept up the offensive, trying to finish Gark off by landing more kicks to the back.

    Gark stood up and cleared himself of any danger by taking several steps back. He then reached up and felt his nose, wincing as he did so. Drops of blood hit his hand, and he reached up. Grabbing hold of his nose, he popped it back in place, but at the cost of tremendous pain. A grimace formed on his face as he did so, and it was enough time for Mornd to send out a flying kick that hit Gark right in the chin. The Bothan flew through the air, spinning as he went, and landed on his front in a puddle of water with a grunt.

    The rain was coming down harder than ever. Gark struggled to stand, but the fatigue was getting to him. Sweat was drenching off his face like he had just been through a five-overtime Limmie match set on full-tilt. He was gassed, but there was no time to rest.

    “Did you really think there was a chance that you could win? Do you believe that you are superior to Calo Mornd?” Mornd thundered over the rain.

    Gark kept trying to stand up, but it felt as though the rain was conspiring to keep him down on the surface of the roof. The drops were coming down hard on him, dampening his fur as they made their way down to the roof. His muscles were screaming in pain at him, tweaked one time too many for comfort. He was able to get on his knees, but then he collapsed down into the puddle once more. Grunting, he tried to get up again.

    Calo looked sharply at his opponent. “Why, Mr. S’rily? Why? Why. Why do you do it? Why, why get up? Why keep fighting? Do you believe you're fighting FOR something? For more than your survival? Can you tell me what it is? Do you even know? Is it freedom, or truth, perhaps peace, could it be for love? Illusions, Mr.S’rily, vagueries of perception. Temporary constructs of a feeble intellect trying desperately to justify an existence that is without meaning or purpose, and all of them as artificial as your concepts of hope, justice, love....”

    Gark didn’t reply. He fell down one more time, an exasperated sigh coming out of his body as he failed to get up.

    Mornd just watched, that ever-present grin on his face.

    “Because I choose to,” Gark finally said. With a roar, he was able to pull himself out of the slop and into the upright position one more time. He swayed in the ever-present rain and wind, but he kept on staring Mornd down.

    “So be it,” Mornd said. “I will enjoy watching you die. And this time, you will perish.”

    “If you’re so certain, then come at me,” Gark said. He didn’t really mean to say this, but at this point in the fight, he didn’t care about a few meaningless words. The fighting was going to determine the outcome of this battle, not taunts.

    Mornd ran forwards, ready to rip Gark limb from limb. The Bothan knew that he was probably capable of that to some degree, and knew that he had to defend himself. It was difficult to prepare a defense, considering how gassed he was, but he stuck his arms up in a starting posture anyways. When Mornd came at him with a pair of swinging slices from a hooking fist, Gark parried them both, sending the second one down as he broke through Calo’s attack. He then went down low to try and break Calo’s concentration, but his nemesis was too fast and caught his arm. Calo gave it a twist, and Gark yelled out in pain. The Bothan sent up a leg on a kick and caught Calo looking, which made him stagger back and release Gark’s arm.

    Mornd was not deterred in the slightest, and he came back swinging at Gark’s face. One of the blows hit the Bothan underneath the chin, and Gark was sent backwards by this attack. He looked behind him to see his close proximity to the edge of the roof. Mornd, realizing that his enemy was near the brink of destruction, kept up the attack. Another lightning bolt flashed by as the two men fought, illuminating the scene with its brilliant ray. It was here that Gark noticed some small electrical works on the top of the roof. Perhaps if he could use the terrain to his advantage, he could gain the upper hand in this fight. Mornd set himself up for another attack, but Gark, hitting his knees and relying on the water to carry him, slid through Mornd’s legs and away from the roof edge. He then ran for the obstacles; they presented his only hope of winning this fight.


    X dispatched the last trooper in the Senate chamber by hitting the soldier over the head with his blaster. The man crumpled to the ground next to the body of a dead soldier, knocked out cold. “That’s all of them,” he announced.

    “Great,” Nat said. “Now we just need to get the senators out of here.”

    “Hey, how hard could that be . . .?” Dun Dun, who had just joined them, asked.

    As if to finish his statement for him, the doors of the Senate chamber were flung open, and several dozen more troopers flooded into the room. Two of them set up an aging E-Web blaster on its tripod mount to set up covering fire, and another soldier threw a grenade. Nat barely dodged the ordinance before it exploded, which took a hefty chunk out of one of the nearby Senate pods. Dun Dun just had a dumbfounded look on his face.

    “Thanks, Dun Dun,” Nat said with an edge of sarcasm as she picked herself up off the ground after hitting the deck.

    “How many more thugs does he have?” X exclaimed before joining the fray once again. The troopers with the E-Web opened fire, spraying blaster bolts all over the place. Nat had to go to her knees in order to dodge the initial stream of bolts, and then dove for the tripod mount. She ran into it and attempted to cut its legs out from underneath it. The auxiliary soldier for the artillery piece attempted to clear her from the mount, but Nat headbutted his foot. The man’s concentration had been broken, which gave Nat her chance. She hopped up on her feet and nailed the gunner in the face with a swift kick. The trooper sprawled out onto the ground, stopping the weapon from firing. The auxiliary trooper wrapped his arms around the back of Nat, as he attempted to hold her down and get her to surrender. But Nat was smarter than that; she pushed the man’s arms up off her and then sank both elbows into his chest without even looking. The man fell backwards and hit the ground hard, completely surprised by that move. Nat then took control of the E-Web and surveyed the situation. Things weren’t looking good; most of the troopers were dealing with the Senators, trying to herd them along, while the rest were fighting one-on-one with Dun Dun and X. Nat gripped the firing control and opened up a stream of bursts at the troopers. One of them who had been harassing a Senator was hit in the midsection and instantly killed, while another who was supervising the “evacuation” was hit in the leg and went down.

    The other troopers, realizing that an enemy belligerent was firing on them with their own artillery, became lost into the crowd of Senators. Nat growled; these troopers were hoping that she wouldn’t fire on the Senators, which she wouldn’t. They were using live meat shields, something that Nat thought was cowardly. If they wanted to fight, they would have to come out of their hiding place and formally attack her. Her fingers nervously handled the trigger button, but then a trooper grabbed her neck and forced her away from the mount. A last trooper dove to the controls and began to fire away randomly at the crowded group of Senators. The blaster bolts whizzed out of the weapon in a haphazard fashion, not aimed at anything but intended to kill as many of the Senators as possible. Several bodies went down, the extent of their injuries unknown.

    Nat fought out of the headlock that she had been placed under, and sent a hard armbar into the chest of the trooper trying to detain her. The man went down hard, and then she nailed the new gunner in the head with a kick. The man tumbled over the front of the E-Web, causing the mount to break under his weight. The gun rolled off and hit the ground, denting it in the process. Looking across the scene, she instantly knew that they had to get the Senators out of the chambers immediately. All of those who had previously hit the floor had been injured, many of them complaining about pain in their bodies. Nat couldn’t blame them; she had never been shot by an E-Web before, and she guessed that it hurt. But how to get them out . . .

    Come in! buzzed her comlink.

    “What is it, Bucky?” Nat asked.

    “Our furry friend has gone to the roof of the building,” Bucky replied. “We need to give him some support, because it’s just Mornd and him up there right now.”

    “We’re a little busy with this right now!” Nat exclaimed. “We have to clear the senators out of here before we can proceed!”

    “Understood. I’ll cover you.” Seconds passed, but then an angry blaster bolt from Bucky’s rifle descended upon another hapless trooper, cutting him down. Another bolt killed a soldier in the complex crowd of senators, and yet another hit a trooper in the leg and sent him down. Nat marveled at what Bucky was able to do; he wasn’t afraid to shoot into a crowd of people, because he had the experience to know exactly where to place the bolt for maximum effect. Either that, or he was just lucky.

    X finished off the last trooper that had been dogging him, and then shot the face of another who had peeled off from the crowd to attack him. Dun Dun elbowed another soldier in the face, and then kicked another in a soft spot, sending both down with relative ease.

    This angered the rest of the troopers, who came flooding out of the crowd and attacked the four agents, plus the Mon Calamari senatorial aide who had disappeared for several moments earlier. With Nat’s innate skill to fight hand-to-hand, X’s shooting, and Bucky’s marksmanship, the troopers were cut down from three sides, and the last few ran out the door as they knew they had been routed. This left the five fighters alone in the Senate chamber with the crowd of nervous senators.

    “Get them out of here,” Nat said to X. “Bucky says that Mornd is up on the roof. I’m going up there to finish this off.” She then pulled out her comlink. “Bucky, you’re with me on this one.” She then stormed out of the chamber and found the nearest lift. If she didn’t hurry, Gark would probably meet a sticky end up on the roof in his battle with Mornd.


    Listen Once Again

    Gark backed up to one of the exhaust vents on the roof. Mornd was only a few feet away, and was ready to attack once again. Both men knew that this offensive could not last forever, but Mornd was sure that at some point his opponent was going to break down, and that was when he would have his chance to finish this one off. A sickening sense of satisfaction washed over him, and despite his bruises, Calo kept coming forwards, sensing a kill in his near future. Gark was breathing raggedly, but was not yet ready to throw in the towel. Calo charged forwards, and Gark jumped on top of the exhaust vent. However, the vent was hot, and the Bothan jumped right off of it. This put him right in Calo’s path, and Gark was hit upside the head with a vicious strike. He staggered backwards once again and spit some blood out of his mouth. The blood landed in the water below and instantly began to become diluted in the watery mixture, small red streaks forming where a drop had once been moments before.

    Looking over his shoulder, Gark could see a pillar of some kind. It was most likely metal, but it provided him an opportunity. He remembered something about his fights with Nat that he had not employed yet. He just had to hope that Mornd would fall for this. On one hand, if Calo was that smart, he probably wouldn’t fall for such a trick. However, on the other hand, Mornd was being aggressive, and was definitely looking for a final KO. It was now or never. Gark sized up his opponent once more in the rain, trying to slow down this fight and catch his breath. Then he turned tail and ran. Calo, shocked by this sudden move, kept up chase.

    Gark made it successfully to the metal tower, and then took a glance over his shoulder. Calo was close enough behind for this move to work. Gark jumped and nailed the metal tower solidly with his feet. Using this as a launch point, he hurtled back in the other direction, catching Mornd off guard. Gark’s foot connected with Calo’s chest, and made Mornd fall backwards as he gasped for air. Gark tried to stand above him, but a twinge of pain shot through his leg, and he grimaced.

    “Not bad,” Calo said, once his wind had returned and he stood back up. “I underestimate your powers, it seems. But, I will repeat my previous statement. There is no way you can win this fight.”

    He then launched himself one more time at Gark, pushing the Bothan back towards the edge of the roof once again. A series of kicks and punches came from Calo, each of one which Gark dodged. Both men knew that they were getting close to the edge, and thus Calo was trying to get in as many attacks as possible to push Gark over the side before he could fight back. Gark smacked Calo in the face with a backhand hit, but then Calo hit him back with a solid blow to the arm. Gark looked down over the side of the Senate building roof. It was a long way down. He looked back up at Calo, who once again had that twisted look of satisfaction plastered on his face.

    “Over the side you go,” he said evilly. “Down to your doom on the street below. I’m going to enjoy this.”

    Then the roof door opened, and Nat’s head poked out from it. Her eyes met Gark’s as the two agents noticed each other’s presence. Gark then looked back at Calo, and grinned. Calo gave him an odd look, but Gark knew that he had to do this. Nat wouldn’t like it, but it needed to be done. Gark grabbed Calo and launched himself over the side, sending both men down towards a cruel death below.


    Nat had charged up the ladder to get to the roof at Bucky’s urging, and had popped the hatch door open. As the wind and rain met her, she could see the two combatants standing near the edge of the roof. Her glare met Gark’s, and a shiver went down her spine. He looked like a man who had been beaten oh so many times, yet was still fighting. She had taught him well, but perhaps not well enough to defeat Mornd. He would have to be inventive in order to win this fight, or she would have to intervene on his behalf to finish off their enemy.

    So he took a new page from the book and grabbed Mornd, jumping over the side as he went. Nat jumped out of the hatch door and onto the roof, panting in the pouring rain. Her jumpsuit and fiery red hair were already becoming damp in the rain despite her only being outside for a few seconds.

    Bucky poked his head up through the hatch. “What do you see?” he asked.

    “He jumped,” Nat replied.

    “What?” Bucky asked, astonished.

    “He jumped,” Nat repeated, a confused look on her face.


    Me’lin stopped running, panting hard in the driving rain as it descended onto the street below. She had come to a small police barricade, where hundreds of people were being kept from approaching the Senate building by police officers from CorPD. Several flood lights had been set up to light the scene, but they were of little use in the darkness. Me’lin wiped several water droplets off her face and stared at the giant Senate building. It was like a monolith that shot into the sky, its vastness amazing to all who saw it.

    Finally, out the front doors of the Senate building came a crowd of about a hundred, most of them the terrified Senators who had been kidnapped several days before. Dun Dun, X, and a Mon Calamari Me’lin didn’t recognize, were leading the pack, with Duckett coming close behind. Some of the police officers ran up and demanded answers, so X began to try and explain that these Senators had been evacuated, but that the perpetrators were still inside. The head officer nodded, and then helped usher the Senators to the relative safety of their police cruisers and auxiliary vehicles.

    Then, someone in the crowd began to shout. “Look!” they exclaimed, pointing to the side of the building. All eyes looked up as two shapes began to fall from the roof of the Senate building. Me’lin stepped forwards, her eyes wide open. She had a sickening feeling that Gark was one of the two in a free fall, and a pit developed in her stomach. She knew she couldn’t handle it if he got himself killed for real this time. Time seemed to slow down for her as she watched the bodies descend, and she silently kept up hope that Gark would know when to break off and save himself.


    As they plummeted towards certain doom, both combatants were still fighting furiously. Calo kept punching Gark in the stomach, while the Bothan was kicking at Calo’s legs to keep him away. Each time Gark was nailed in the chest, he let out a grunt, but he didn’t let this kill his resolve. Both men stared each other down as they fought, both baring their teeth as they kept on falling. Gark took a quick glance down to see how far he had before they were both dead.

    Then, he got an idea. This would break the deadlock. Giving Calo a massive punch to the face, Gark reached into his pocket and pulled out a small roll of tape. He then dislodged his only thermal detonator from its small pocket, catching it in his armpit. Calo tried to fight back, but Gark laid him out once again with a vicious headbutt. Calo’s head sagged backwards, giving Gark his chance. He wedged the detonator in Mornd’s mouth, and then wrapped the tape several times around Calo’s head. Lastly, he pulled the pin on the detonator. Calo looked back at him fiercely, but both knew what was going to happen.

    Gark dislodged himself and continued to fall. Reaching out, he pushed his cape out, which allowed him to glide some of the distance to the ground. All the while, he looked back over at Calo. Mornd was frantically trying to break the tape off of his head, but he ran out of time. The detonator exploded, sending out a huge fireball that erupted in the sky. Gark was nailed by the force of the explosion and sent backwards, finally slamming right on his face into the side of the Senate building. Gravity then got the better of him, and he plummeted down towards his death once again, his back facing the ground this time. As he shook off the effect of the hit, he reached out to open up his cape to continue gliding. However, it seemed to have been battered upon impact, and was thus worthless. What was he going to do now?


    The crowd gasped as they saw the explosion. Me’lin felt as though she could drop to her knees in despair; had that been Gark who had blown up? Then she saw him hit the wall of the Senate building and fall once again. She had to stifle a loud outburst here; what was she going to do?

    “It’s Superbothan! He’s alive!” shouted one of the people in the crowd.

    “He’s going to die!” shrieked another.


    Nat watched as Mornd blew up, wincing as his body disappeared in the fireball. She could see Gark hitting the wall and continuing to fall, but there was nothing she could do. He was on his own.


    Gark knew that he didn’t have much time left. He reached frantically for his blaster, which had been safely tucked away in its holster. His fingers finally found their mooring points, and he yanked the weapon out. Fiddling with the settings, he was able to change it to the ascension gun. This was his last chance. He sent out the anchor by punching the trigger, which arced into the sky.

    Somehow, against all odds, it found a mooring point, and Gark found himself hanging in mid-air about twenty feet above the ground. Then the wind picked up and sent him flying away from the crowd of people that he noticed had gathered behind some barricades. He tried to furl out the cape once again, but it didn’t seem to be cooperating. Then he met the ground in an unceremonious manner; it wasn’t exactly a hard impact due to the ascension gun, but he still felt the collision in his bones. That one hurt.


    The gathered crowd was unsure of what had just happened. They couldn’t really see where Gark had landed due to the darkness, and the flood lights were not cooperating with the police as they attempted to reset their positions. No one knew the fate of the superhero.

    Finally, out of the darkness, a shape came out, battered and bruised. Gark S’rily, Superbothan, Limmie GM and Coach, unwilling daredevil, came out of the darkness into the area covered by the floodlights, limping but still able to stand on his own two feet. The look on his face was a mixture of satisfaction and of a man who had been completely beaten down in the past hour. Some blood ran down his face from his previously-dislocated nose and battered mouth, but otherwise he looked fine to the untrained eye. Me’lin didn’t care; the fact he was alive was all that mattered to her. Hurdling the barricade in front of her, she ran up to where Gark was standing, not letting the police have a chance to stop her in her tracks.

    Gark just looked up at her, still panting. “I ought to slap you,” she said in a pseudo-angry voice.
    Then, she switched to a more concerned tone. “I . . . I thought you were dead.”

    “Is this how you greet everyone these days? I’m just glad to be in one piece,” Gark said, exhausted.

    Then the two embraced each other. Despite each other bring beyond soaked at this juncture, they didn’t care. For Gark, to know that he had won the battle was the biggest victory of the day. For Me’lin, knowing that Gark was alive was the biggest victory. After their prolonged hug, Gark was approached by several police officers.

    “Care to explain?” the senior commander asked, a quizzical look on her face.

    “I think everything explains itself,” Gark said, with a wry grin on his face. “Calo’s dead.”

    “What?” asked the officer.

    “Calo Mornd is dead,” Gark responded, this time louder so that everyone nearby could hear him.

    The crowd that had gathered behind the barricade was stunned, yet happy at the same time. Gark had done it; he had beaten the odds and killed Mornd. The siege of the Senate was over.

    “Hey, let’s give it up for Superbothan!” yelled someone in the crowd. A huge round of applause rolled over the scene like a tidal wave, so audible that it deafened the rain and wind that had oddly taken a break. Had it not been dark out, it almost felt like the sky would clear. Cameras floated everywhere like angry hornets, trying to get the best shot available for the viewers at home.

    X, Dun Dun, and Duckett joined them under the floodlights. “You look terrible,” X said.

    “Duh,” Gark said. “You try having your bones bashed hundreds of times, your nose dislocated, blood pouring from your mouth, then be told that you should be slapped for tardiness, and see how you feel afterwards.”

    Dun Dun put his meaty hand on Gark’s shoulder. “You did one hell of a job, man,” he said. He then reached the hand out, and Gark shook it wearily. “Good working with you.”

    “Do you need medical attention?” asked one of the police officers.

    “No, I think I’ll be alright,” Gark said. “Just some bumps and bruises. I’ll get some bacta on it at some point.”

    “You sure?” X asked.

    “I will in a minute, OK? I have something else that I need to get to,” Gark said. “Something very important.”

    “Something more important than killing Mornd off, or treating your bruised and battered body?” X asked, astonished.

    “I guess it depends on your point of view,” Gark said.

    He walked over to where Me’lin was standing. They stared each other down in the now-resumed rain, each one just looking at the other without saying a word. Then, Gark finally broke the silence.

    “I’m sorry about not coming back earlier,” he said. “I should not have waited this long.”

    “All that matters to me is that you’re safe,” Me’lin responded. “But, you should definitely go and apply some bacta to your injuries. Don’t let me slow you down.”

    “Not yet,” Gark said. “I was given a lot of time to think over the last few days, and I realized that no matter what I do in my life, I’ve always been missing something. These thoughts started when I was near death, when I realized that there was more for me to achieve in my life. It took me days of pondering, days I’d rather not remember in detail, to figure out what that was. And when I finally did, I knew that it was a longshot prospect to actually happen. What more can you expect from a guy in a superhero suit, going up against a heavily-armed madman who had almost taken his life once? I admit that I was scared, deathly afraid of what lay ahead. But I pulled through, and here I am. I hope you’re not getting bored with the whole ‘I’m not worthy’ shtick . . .”

    “Not at all,” the Twi’lek said.

    “Well, I’ll get to the point,” Gark replied. “I realized that I was missing one thing in my life, and I wasn’t going to let Calo get in between me and that goal. Over the last few days, I was keeping a vigilant eye on everything, and everyone. None of you saw me, but I saw all of you. I know what my ‘death’ meant to all of you, and I’m sorry for not revealing myself sooner than I did. That was my fault, and I feel terrible about it. But, now I have a chance to rectify that mistake, and to finally achieve what I think will complete me as a person.”

    Gark dropped to one knee, and grimaced in pain as he did so. It looked like his legs had finally gone from underneath him. Thoughts ran through his head, that he should stop here and go apply bacta. His conscience was screaming at him to not go through with this. He needed to take care of himself first, because he was still bleeding, even though the rain was doing a magnificent job of keeping his face clean. But Gark knew that if he didn’t do this now, he would never have the chance to later. He had to go through with this. Reaching into the farthest recess of his suit, he pulled out a small package wrapped in a liner made of flimsy. It was haphazardly constructed, and Gark made sure to feel it as he pulled it out to make sure that its contents were still intact. Frankly, the Bothan had no idea how the package had stayed remarkably safe from all of the abuse he had just taken at Mornd’s hands. Luckily for him the contents were, so he proceeded.

    He opened up the packaging slowly with his bruised arms. Out came a small gold ring, a small diamond sticking out of the top. It wasn’t overly large, but since when had Gark had time to worry about such things? It landed on his outstretched palm.

    “Me’lin . . . will you marry me?” he asked. There, he had finally said it; now he had to wait for her reaction. What if she said no? How crushed he would be to find out that she really didn’t feel the same way about him. The rain drops seemed to slow down so much that they almost crawled by him on their way to the ground. All he was watching were the Twi’lek’s facial expressions. She looked shocked for several seconds after he finished his statement, and Gark’s heart started to fall into his stomach. She was going to say no . . . he had come in too quickly on this . . . he should have waited, and applied some bacta on his injuries . . . and he had just made a fool of himself in front of all these people. His mind raced, but nothing happened.

    Finally, she looked at him, and her shocked expression changed to one more of relief. “Yes,” she said.

    Gark would have leaped off his one knee had it not been for the intense amount of pain that would have brought him. So he instead reached out to take Me’lin’s arm, which she let him do. Holding her arm up with one hand, he slid the ring onto her finger with the other hand. It was a perfect fit, which Gark knew because precisely he had taken the time to get the ring measured correctly. It hadn’t been easy, he had to admit; frankly, he had done the entire piece by himself, constructing it in the back of a jewelry shop over one night while the store was closed and the owner was away. It had been difficult to take the pre-made ring and insert the diamond on it, but he had somehow finished it. Yes, it was technically stealing, but Gark knew that he would pay the owner back later. It had been such a meticulous process to finish the item, but he hadn’t given up. He knew that this would be worth it in the end.

    Me’lin looked down at the new ring on her hand, observing it fondly. Gark then stood up, albeit it being hard to do so because of his sore joints. Then the two embraced each other in one of those kinds of kissing scenes that were frequently seen in romantic holos.

    “It’s beautiful,” X commented.

    “Augh!” Dun Dun said, shielding his face. “Don’t need to see the ridiculous kissing scene.”

    “Grow up, would you?” Duckett asked, punching the larger man in the shoulder.

    The crowd began to cheer, which Gark thought was rather odd. But, he was too preoccupied with this moment. A wave of relief washed over him; she had said yes. His work had not been in vain.

    Finally, when the kiss had finished, Me’lin looked back at Gark, her arms still around him, and his around her. “I think you should go treat your injuries now,” she said.

    “Right,” Gark said, nodding. He then walked, or rather limped, over to the small first aid station that had been set up for the crowd of senators. One of the attendants tossed him a packet of bacta after looking him over and testing his pain threshold.

    “Apply it on yourself,” she said.

    “Wha . . .?” Gark asked. This was odd; why weren’t they going to treat him with this medicine like they were with the senators?

    “You don’t have any major issues that we need to deal with, just bruises,” the attendant said. “Just make sure to apply that bacta to yourself later on to help heal it up.”

    “Why?” Gark asked.

    “Because we don’t want to strip you down to your underwear in front of all these people, and in the rain,” said the attendant quietly.

    “Ah, good idea,” Gark said, acknowledging the smart thinking involved in this plan.

    By this time, Nat and Bucky had come out of the entrances of the senate chambers, thoroughly exhausted. The other agents came to meet with them.

    “Really? I told you all so,” Nat said, after the breaking news had just been given to her by X.

    “Wow,” was all Bucky said. “Lucky guy.”

    “We need to get out of here before the cops think we started this whole thing,” X said. “Remember, we work in the shadows, not out in the open. Let’s get back to the Cave and talk things over.”

    “Right,” Nat said. The agents decided to slip out of view as the crowd behind the barricade dispersed. This had been one hell of a spectacle, and the best part was that Gark S’rily was alive and well. It certainly made up for the crushing OT loss that the Senators had faced only a few days before on Mandalore. OK, perhaps this wasn’t nearly enough to make up for that, but it certainly took away some of the sting.

    After the attendants moved away, Me’lin came up to Gark. “Well?” she asked.

    “They say I should apply this stuff later, but at least nothing is broken, just bruised. Well, my nose won’t feel too hot for a while, but it’ll heal. I’ll be fine,” he said.

    “If you need any help applying it, you know who to call,” the Twi’lek said.

    “I still can’t believe it,” Gark said. “I thought you were going to turn me down.”

    “Turn down the man of my dreams? No chance of that,” Me’lin said, giving Gark one of her sweet smiles. “Anyways, I probably should start drawing up plans for the wedding . . . have to get started on that early, you know. Lots of things to plan, guests to include on the list, catering, venue, formalwear . . . have to figure out what dress to wear . . .”

    “Yeah, about that,” Gark said, still feeling utterly gassed. “Mind if I put a raincheck on it for right now? I think the last thing you want is for me to be half-broken at that point and limping all the way up to the altar. I’ll definitely need some time to rest up and let this soreness subside.”

    “Understood,” Me’lin said.

    “Anyways, I probably should get started on this whole rest thing,” Gark said.

    “I’d offer to let you stay at my place,” Me’lin said. “But it’s a mess.”

    Gark was taken aback by this. The woman who always kept her files in a neat, orderly manner for the team office had a messy home? That was a shock.

    “I thought you had everything organized,” he said, rubbing his side.

    “I typically don’t bother cleaning my place out too often,” she said. “OK, it’s not as bad as it sounds, but it’s not exactly as clean as I would like. Besides, you’d probably end up sleeping on the floor.”

    “Gotcha,” Gark replied. “I’ll head back to Team HQ, then.”

    “They rolled your bed out of there last week,” Me’lin said quickly. “They figured that it was taking up space, and that you weren’t coming back.”

    “Great,” Gark replied, annoyed by this news. “Can we rig up something back in the Cave?”

    “I’m sure we can get that bed back,” Me’lin said.

    “Thanks,” Gark replied, grimacing from the soreness that was shooting through his body, but on the overall happy that everything else seemed to be going right.



    A speeder pulled up to Team HQ, and the motor was turned off. Gark looked at the doors of the team facility, locked as usual. He had the key, though, so he wasn’t worried about getting in. Then he looked at Me’lin, who was driving her speeder. “Thanks for the ride,” Gark said. “Will I hear back from you soon when you’ve finished planning?”

    “Of course,” his fiancée said. “Catch up on that rest. You’ll need it for the Cup Finals in a few days.”

    “Ugh, that sounds rather unappealing right now,” Gark said, groaning. “I wish the CoC hadn’t put in that bid for this year. Now I’m going to have to hobble around and do all of that typical crap they expect the hosts to do. It’s ridiculous that we have to do things when we’re not even in the Final. And then there’s the awards ceremony . . . why couldn’t this have been any other week?”

    “Don’t worry about it,” Me’lin said. “Just make sure you’re there.”

    “All right,” Gark said halfheartedly. He readied himself to get out of the speeder, but Me’lin stopped him by grabbing his arm. The two looked at each other for a split second before she spoke.

    “I was thinking about checking up on real estate at some point. You know, so we can move in together sometime soon, especially since you don’t have a home anymore . . .”

    “I’d like that,” Gark said. “Maybe we could do a tour of houses in a few weeks, after everything has died down a little?”

    “Consider it done,” the Twi’lek said. “Love you.”

    She planted a huge kiss right on Gark’s cheek. Gark blushed a little, but it wasn’t evident because he didn’t have bare skin that would reveal the extent of the blush to the outside world. He then got out of the speeder and unlocked the door to Team HQ. When he walked into the coach’s office area, he found that the bed had indeed been removed from the area. Sighing, he found a spare Senators blanket that was stored in the nearby supply closet and sat down on one of the couches in the team lounge. Applying some of the bacta he had been given to place on his sore joints, he pulled his undershirt back on and then fell asleep staring at the ceiling. And, for the first time in two weeks, he was actually comfortable, and slept soundly all night without waking up once.

    TAG: Trieste, Everyone Else

    OOC: If you stuck it out this long, good for you. :D

    In case you all are wondering, my word processor says that this post clocks in at over 17,000 words. So this is definitely the longest post I've ever written for a game.
    jcgoble3 and Bardan_Jusik like this.
  8. Trieste

    Trieste Force Ghost star 5

    Apr 10, 2010
    GM Post

    --Player Transaction Wire--
    Coruscant Senators
    • Receives Rayel Edare (Pantoran, Female, Full Forward) from Rydonni Prime Monarchs
    Rydonni Prime Monarchs
    • Receives Coruscant Senators' second round draft pick in 273
    Tag: CPL_Macja Jedi Gunny
  9. Trieste

    Trieste Force Ghost star 5

    Apr 10, 2010
    GM Post
    Undisclosed location

    "We do not negotiate with terrorists."

    That was the message that Kerry Trieste had delivered publicly to the beings of the Republic and beyond. "We will do everything we can to reach a peaceful resolution of this crisis, but if Calo Mornd thinks that the people of the Republic will allow the symbol of our democracy to be occupied by those who would seek to subvert it, he will soon find he has made a critical mistake."

    She had tasked High Command with presenting her an action plan to retake the Senate, but every one of them involved losses--high losses. And Supreme Chancellor Kerry Trieste sat there and considered all of them. Her hair almost grayed in front of them as she thought about the lives that would be lost. And lost for what? Her vanity? The Republic's vanity? What was the price of the pride of trillions of being who were sitting throughout the galaxy seeing their Senate held by a madman?

    When Mornd demanded that she come and killed the Coruscanti Senator, the Chancellor had no choice. She would have gone, but the Senate in its infinite wisdom had decided a long time ago that the Supreme Chancellor didn't know what was best for herself. The Senatorial Guard did and Kerry's movements were tightly controlled by them. She'd already tried to leave. She'd been told in no uncertain terms that she would be rendered unconscious if need be. The Bakuran was about to test to them when the argument was broken up by a shout.

    "Something's happening in the Senate!"

    Kerry's head whipped around. "What do you mean?"

    "Our patch into the internal security feed--there's a firefight."

    Everyone rushed to a vidscreen, including the Chancellor. "That Bothan. He looks familiar..." she said, furrowing her brow.

    Senate steps, Coruscant

    It was not until everything was resolved that the Senatorial Guard cleared Kerry to leave their safehouse. So she did what politicians were best at: she showed up after everything was done and held a press conference on the very steps where she had been inaugurated a year ago.

    "Today, justice triumphed over oppression," Kerry said to the media who thronged about her, "It was not without cost and the people of the Republic and Coruscant will long remember their valiant Senator who gave his life today. But we shall not forget. We will learn, we will remember, and we shall overcome."

    "Madam Chancellor, how did this happen?"

    "There will be a full investigation into what happened here. As I said, we will learn. Mistakes were made, they were made on my watch. I will not have them made again."

    "Madam Chancellor, are Superbothan and his cohorts heroes or vigilantes?"

    Trieste paused. "There's a fine, fine line between those two labels. All I know is that today they were who the Republic needed. That's all I have to say about that."

    "Madam Chancellor, with this crisis over, what is your first order of business?"

    "Oh that's easy," Kerry said with a smile, "I'm going to the Galactic Cup Final. It's going to be a great game."

    Tag: Bardan_Jusik Jedi Gunny JediMaster_1977
  10. Bardan_Jusik

    Bardan_Jusik Mand'alor - Manager of EUC, SWC and Anthology/BtS star 10 Staff Member Manager

    Dec 14, 2009

    IC: Beskaryc Taab
    Meshla Vhetin, Keldabe, manda'yaim

    Taab stalked the Merc's sidelines as the Solo Conference Championship Game started. Normally he would have taken his normal place in the owner's box, but he couldn't resist the urge to be out on the field in some manner. It was glorious, the stadium rocked and echoed with the cheers and of the crowd and the noise coming from the field itself. It was a hard fought game so far, tied at three midway through the first half. The Mercs were trying to play their wide open game but were being shut down for the most part by the stout Senator's defense. Yes they were trying their best to get the team back to Coruscant, but true to form, the Mercs weren't backing down without a fight.

    The crowd cheered as Fortune broke away from the Senator's cornerback and spun quickly in the direction of the net. He was quickly covered up by the fullback but passed the ball back to Daryc who put it over the bar for a single point. The Mercs took their first lead of the day and the crowd went wild, chanting Daryc's name. The young Mandalorian had done an admirable job filling in for the fallen Kor'le, one could almost forget about the presence she had both on and off the field. Almost.

    Their lead wouldn't last long. Only a few minutes later a defensive breakdown and a great move by a Senator's forward allowed the ball to get past Katan for a back of the netter. Three more points for the Senators and the lead. Coach vizsla called a quick timeout and Taab moved in to listen, but not interfere with what was going on. "We keep attacking, on offense and defense. Take what you can get, but go for the kill. We will get that one back. Now...make it so."

    The players seemed to drink in his simple yet fiery words. He really was the right man for this job, and was an excellent teacher and in game manager. Taab was glad he was on their side. The teams re-took the field, but despite the coaches words, the Mercs couldn't gain any traction. The ball would flip from one side of the field to the other as great defensive play after great defensive play was made. Both offenses were getting frustrated with neither making any more headway until the end of the half when the Mercs managed a single point over the bar on a desperation heave from midfield. They went into the half trailing by one.

    Taab didn't follow the team into the locker room. That was the coach's Area of operations, and while Taab didn't mind soaking in things out on the field, he didn't want to disturb the coach at work. This game was turning out to be the opposite of the shootout on Coruscant where the Senators put 40 points on the board against the Mercs. Of course the Mercs weren't doing much better offensively. But only down by one they had a chance.

    Both teams came out firing for the second half as well, as now the goaltenders took over, batting away shot after shot. But the Senators showed again why they were the class of the league as they scored again, taking a 9-5 lead with only 10 minutes left in the game. The Mercs and their fans were not to be silenced though, this was a team that had not lost a home game all season, they weren't about to start now. The offense opened up now a little, as either the Senators got tired or the Mercs, spurred on by their fans, found another gear.

    Suddenly the Senators couldn't clear the ball out of their own defensive zone. Shot after shot was deflected by their goaltender but eventually one made it in as Daryc put one though the back of the net. 9-8, two minutes to play. Taab didn't know it was possible but the stadium seemed to get even louder. The cacophony of banging chest plates and over four million screaming Mandalorians, yearning, demanding a Conference Championship and a shot at the Galactic Cup rained down on them all. This was it, it was now or never.

    The Senators took the ball out of their zone and began to push into Mercs territory. They knew if they scored or managed to run out the clock they would be punching their own tickets to the title match. But it was not to be their moment. Askah Kol, playing in his last game in the Meshla Vhetin, was determined to not make this the last meshgeroya game of his career. He went high up as a pass came near the forward he was guarding. He managed to get just a fingertip on it and swatted it away. Right into the hands of a waiting Mor'kesh. The The young midfielder managed to get the ball quickly enough up the field, it went first to Daryc, then to Fortune and back to Daryc, but they couldn't get an open look. The Senators defense swarmed them, there were only seconds left. Daryc passed the ball forward one last time to Fortune, he would have to make his own shot. A back of the netter would win them the game and send the Meshla Vhetin to unforseen heights of insanity.

    Fortune clutched the ball tight and jumped high into the air to get as much power behind his throw as possible. It looked as though he was going to throw the ball threw the goaltender. But he didn't drive the ball towards the diving Shistavanen. Instead he leaned back and lofted an easy above the bar shot. The horn sounded the end of regulation, the score tied at 9.

    The stadium erupted as bonus meshgeroya was announced. The players on both sides were exhausted after a tightly contested match, but could play through it knowing the prize that awaited them. However, it was then that Coach Vizsla unleashed the Mercs secret weapon. With the folding of the Chiefs after the previous season there was a glut of good starting players on the Free Agent market. Vhett had poured over them looking for players that would fit Vizsla's new style and brought them into the fold. These were players like K'Karlson and the Hanson brothers, players that could start on most any ELL team, and here they were fresh reserves off the bench.

    They were subbed into the game to the delight of the fans who had embraced the aruetiise players for their hard nosed play and the touch of insanity they had displayed all year. They were well rested, having played only a few minutes earlier in the game and it showed. The Senators offense could never get set, and when they did the reserve defenders blew up their plays with clean, but hard hits. It translated to points on the other end of the field as the Mercs put first one and then a minute later a second ball into the back of the net. The score went from tied to 15-9 in the span of just minutes.

    Both teams knew what the final outcome would be then, but that didn't stop the Senators from trying. they chipped away with an above the bar point, that was answered back by a single Mercs point on their next possession. Still the Senators wouldn't give up as they scored three more. But neither team scored again until a final single pointer was put over by the Senators as time expired.

    The fans rushed the field, the Mercs were going on to the Galactic Cup! They had gone through an entire season and postseason without dropping a home game and and been taken to overtime twice, winning both matches. The players hugged one another as Taab congratulated Vizsla. This was a truly great moment for Mandalorian meshgeroya and for manda'yaim as a whole. Not even the awkwardness of calling Kor'le out onto the field to accept the Conference title trophy (A statuette of Han Solo, how odd that t would reside on Mandalore now) could ruin the moment.

    La'kelvafer Ret'ooeliel Kor'le, Ryi's adopted twi'lek sister moved forward to take the trophy in her stead. No explanation was given, though taab could see the moment of sorrow that crossed the woman's face. Ryi should have been here for this. So too should Kote. Taab reflected for them for a moment before turning his attention back to the celebration on the field. This was a moment that no one here would ever forget.

    But their work wasn't over with yet, they would have to face a tough Rough Riders team, a team that had beaten the Mercs in Ryloth's first ever ELL match up last year. but this was a new year, a new coach and a new team. This was the Mando'ade Mercs, and they had one goal in mind. Bringing the Galactic Cup to manda'yaim, and manda help anyone that stood in their way.

    TAG: JediMaster_1977

    Trieste likes this.
  11. Jedi Gunny

    Jedi Gunny Yahtzee Host star 9 VIP - Game Host

    May 20, 2008
    Sub-GM Post
    Coruscant Athletic Club, Coruscant

    Cruth Kantor took a drink of water as he walked up to the stage. It was that time of year again, time for the Helmsman Award ceremony. In a few short minutes, one of the four hopeful contestants would walk away with the prized hardware. With the Elite League Draft now in place, the Helmsman winner had been the top overall pick both years, so winning the award meant quite a bit to whoever won it. Kantor wasn’t sure what to make of this year’s field; it was easily the weakest one that had been put forth in over 40 years, and the media pundits were annoyed about how bad the class was. With two players from the same school, and yet another one from a team that hadn’t even made the playoffs, it made for a real headache. Toss in the fact that all four players were from the Super 16, and people from outside the Core once again complained about Core-world bias. They just never shut up, did they?

    “Ladies and gentlebeings, I welcome you to the 272 Helmsman Award ceremony,” Kantor started after reaching the podium. “We have just seen another amazing year of college Limmie, one that now has two under-the-radar teams playing for the Galactic title. I now present to you the four Helmsman finalists, in no particular order.”

    Names and faces began to flash up on the screen.

    Zak Pers, a male midfielder from UC Bella Vistal

    Ema Zostin, a female forward from Grand Vulpter System University

    Jalin Mioree, a male forward from the Coruscant Air Fleet Academy

    Roz Cartel, a human goalie from UC Bella Vistal

    After each face had been shown, and all of the finalists had been identified in the crowd by the media, Kantor ripped open the envelope. As usual, he did not know ahead of time who had won the award.

    Thoughts raced through his head. Mioree was probably the runaway winner for this one, given his high Draft stock. The kid, at least in preliminary mock drafts, was going in the top two picks, so his stock was already high. Capping it off with a Helmsman trophy would be icing on the cake. However, the other three . . . what could he say if one of them won? None of them had high draft statuses; frankly, Cartel was the third-ranked goalie on the pre-made draft board of top prospects. The fans would probably riot if one of them won. As he pulled out the flimsy, he secretly hoped that Mioree would win. It would save him some face, and that of the Committee for selecting him.

    Closing his eyes, he reached the paper up in front of him. Opening his eyes, he let out a small sigh that was inaudible to the audience.

    “The winner of the 272 Helmsman Memorial Trophy is . . .

    Jalin Mioree, Full Forward from the Coruscant Air Fleet Academy

    He let out a sigh of relief as Mioree came forward. Unlike last year, where a real unknown had come out and won the Helmsman, this time the landslide favorite had come out on top.

    TAG: Everyone, especially JediMaster_1977, Teegirloo, CPL_Macja
  12. Trieste

    Trieste Force Ghost star 5

    Apr 10, 2010
    GM Post
    Sienar Center, Coruscant

    With the Galactic Cup Final in town, the League had decided to go big for the 272 Season Awards Ceremony. After all, with beings from all over the galaxy on the planet for the occasion there was plenty of demand for tickets and more ticket sales meant more buzz and more revenue for the member teams of the League. The ceremony accordingly was not quite such a black tie affair as in years past, though there was still a red carpet that all the stars of the League paraded down along with other celebrities who wanted to be seen. These beings had the best tickets down in front, close to the stage, with access to VIP areas and lounges.

    "Gentlebeings, welcome to the 272 Elite League Limmie Season Awards Ceremony! Here's your host, Elite League Commissioner Niakara Kayl'hen," the announcer said.

    The Bothan stepped onto the stage and gave a little wave on her way to the microphone. "Thank you, thank you," Kayl'hen said, "Welcome, everyone. I'm extremely excited to be joined by the one reason that we play, week in and week out: the fans. You are what drive the League. You're what's on our mind every day. So I just want to thank all of you for all of your support. This has been a fantastic season, a season to celebrate. With that being said, let's get down to business, shall we?

    "Our first award tonight is the Ingbrand Award, which is given to the rookie of the year in the Elite League. Our nominees are: Morgan Alesh, Bakura Miners. Chenkabuk, Euceron Storm. Andres Fortune, Mando'ade Mercs." Each nominee was shown on the giant vidscreens and on the live Holonet broadcast of the event and were applauded by the crowd individually.

    "And our winner tonight is...we're starting off with a nail biter, Chenkabuk of the Euceron Storm."

    Once the Wookiee left the stage after his acceptance speech, the Commissioner stepped back to the microphone. "A team is only as good as the coach that drives it to victory and the Langann Award honors the best head coach in the League. In 272 our nominees are: Gaeriel Valerii of the Bakura Miners, Maxson Foress of the Ralltiir Starkillers, and Adenn Vizsla of the Mando'ade Mercs.

    "The winner of the Langann is...Adenn Vizsla of Mando'ade."

    "Limmie is a hard game, but some overcome more than others. The Zumtak Award is awarded to the being who most embodies the values of perseverance and dedication to the sport of limmie in a season. This season we have three worthy nominees. They are Zeke Barbosa of the Ryloth Rough Riders for overcoming off field issues, Meredith Chambers of the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers for returning to the sport after a serious injury, and Gark S'rily of the Coruscant Senators for contributions to the sport of limmie.

    "And the Zumtak goes a close vote, Gark S'rily of the Coruscant Senators."

    "Tempers run high on the pitch and it shows sometimes. The Duchess Eldin Award recognizes the player who best demonstrated both academic excellence and sportsmanship in the course of a season. It is, in truth, perhaps my favorite award we give out, but don't tell the Salbukk I said that." The Commissioner smiled at the joke. "Our nominees are Dirxx Horste, Coruscant Senators; Ryi Kor'le, Mando'ade Mercs; and Aron Rodders; Bakura Miners.

    "The winner of the Duchess Eldin Award is...Ryi Kor'le of the Mando'ade Mercs."

    "One of the unsung heroes of the Elite League is the general manager. The GM toils behind the scenes to assemble a team, to bring players together, to make hard decisions and find the chemistry needed to win that championship. We have three outstanding GMs, all of which put together teams that won 5 games this season--no small feat in this League. They are our nominees for the Grames Award for the league's best general manager and they are Quinn Cundertol of the Bakura Miners, Samantha Poland of the Onderon Crazy Dragons, and Aay'han Vhett of the Mando'ade Mercs.

    "And the Grames Award goes, another close one here, it's Quinn Cundertol of the Miners."

    IC: Quinn Cundertol
    Sienar Center, Coruscant

    The tall, thin Eriaduan rose from his seat and received a hug from his head coach, a slap on the back from Rodders, and two pecks on the cheek from Alesh and Glencross on his way to the stage and the applause from the arena. He took the award--somewhat awkwardly--from one of the presenters and balanced it in both hands as he leaned in towards the microphone. He didn't speak for a second.

    "I'd say thank you," he started, "but then again it did take you all two years longer than I would have thought to give me one of these." Some members of the audience chuckled a bit nervously. "I mean I was rather expecting this for singlehandedly desegregating the Miners in 270 and then I kind of thought that in a year where we won a Galactic Cup in 271 that maybe I'd done a half decent job. Then again, it is a well established historical fact that true genius is rarely appreciated in its own time, so I guess two years isn't that much of a long wait.

    "I usually don't thank anybody for anything," Cundertol continued, "so I figure why start now?" Once again, a bit more nervous laughter. "Then again, first time for everything? Thanks to Kerry Trieste for performing her contractual obligation of continuing to sign my pay check, to Gaeriel Valerii for actually demonstrating the promise I knew she had, Han Tunross for putting up with me more than any other sentient being I've ever encountered, Mrs. Hudson, my landlady, for being accepting the one time that a bolo-ball took out half the windows in my apartment--even though I'm pretty sure I'm not going to get my security deposit back after that--and finally, Sydney Talon, who I must begrudgingly admit is a half decent attorney.

    "I think my time is up, so let me close by saying that this is the first of many more," Cundertol said, lifting the Grames Award a bit before leaving the stage.

    GM Post
    Sienar Center, Coruscant

    "We now reach the climax of our evening, the presentation of the Salbukk Award to the Most Valuable Player of the League. Our nominees for this most prestigious award are: Alana Glencross, Bakura Miners; Jenna Leed, Onderon Crazy Dragons; and Polis Vayne, Coruscant Senators," the Commissioner said.

    "And the winner of the 272 Salbukk one of the most lopsided votes for the Salbukk in recent memory, Jenna Leed of Onderon.

    "That concludes the 272 Elite League Season Awards," Kayl'hen said, "Thank you all for coming tonight. We look forward to seeing many of you at the Galactic Cup Final where we will crown this season's champion and hand out the Numifolis Award for most valuable player of the Galactic Cup Playoffs. Until then, good night."

    GM note: the Ingbrand and Grames Awards were ties between Chenkabuk and Andres Fortune and Quinn Cundertol and Aay'hen Vhett, respectively. Each vote was decided by a random die roll through the same dice roller that generates the season scores. It is also worth noting that Jenna Leed's Salbukk victory was incredibly lopsided as she won 6 of the 8 votes cast. It should also be noted that every nominee received at least 1 vote.

    Tag: Bardan_Jusik jcgoble3 Jedi Gunny JediMaster_1977 Liam_Vehn Runjedirun Teegirloo
    Bardan_Jusik likes this.
  13. Trieste

    Trieste Force Ghost star 5

    Apr 10, 2010
    GM Post

    As we approach the Galactic Cup Final, the 273 Elite League Draft draws near! It's time for a bit of a reminder on how everything will work.

    During the first round, everyone will be assigned a day with which to make their first round draft pick. You have all of that day (as defined by Pacific time if we need to be that precise) to make your pick. If the pick immediately before yours has been made, you are allowed to make your pick early. However, you are not compelled to do so. You always have until the end of your assigned day to make your pick.

    The second and third rounds are done silent auction style. When we get closer to that, I will elaborate further.

    Here is the schedule:
    1. Ylesia Lightning (April 3)
    2. Vandelhelm Jets (April 4)
    3. Rydonni Prime Monarchs (April 5)
    4. Nar Shaddaa Smugglers (April 6)
    5. Euceron Storm (April 7)
    6. Ralltiir Starkillers (April 8)
    7. Bakura Miners (April 9)
    8. Coruscant Senators (April 10)
    9. Onderon Crazy Dragons (April 11)
    10. Mando'ade Mercs/Ryloth Rough Riders (April 12)
    11. Mando'ade Mercs/Ryloth Rough Riders (April 13)
    Ryloth and Mando'ade's draft position will be decided based on the outcome of the Final on Sunday.

    If for any reason you have a conflict with this schedule, contact me immediately.

    For scheduling purposes, the 273 season will start on April 21. This will give us two Sundays off. On either or both of those Sundays you may schedule a "friendly game." A friendly is essentially a preseason game that you play against a team not in the Elite League. It may be your development affiliate (unless another team gives you permission to use their development affiliate they are off limits), a GCLA team, a Premier League team, any team in the galaxy (but not a college team--that wouldn't be fair to the student athletes). Teams use them to earn extra revenue, find out if their team has any problems, expand their market reach to new areas of the galaxy, or just give their players a change of scenery. They may be played on the road or at home as you choose. Friendlys are completely optional and will not use up any bonus roll you have banked. Opponents are handed out on a first come, first served basis.

    April 7 Friendlies
    Bakura Miners at Naboo Ducks

    April 14 Friendlies
    Rydonni Prime Monarchs at Balmorra Blasters

    Tag: Bardan_Jusik CPL_Macja jcgoble3 Jedi Gunny JediMaster1511 JediMaster_1977 Liam_Vehn Rebecca_Daniels Runjedirun Teegirloo
  14. Trieste

    Trieste Force Ghost star 5

    Apr 10, 2010
    A Draft-related, not-GM Post
    The opinions contained in this post are solely those of Zilly Borquat, one of the many Holonet bloggers that follow college limmie, and are in no way the opinions of the GM regarding the 273 draft class.

    Draft Sleepers in 273

    Hey there everybody. So with the end of the Elite League season rapidly approaching, that means that it's time to start talking about the most exciting part of the season--THE ELL DRAFT! YAY!!!!!!!!!!

    Seriously guys, I know that some beings out there think this Draft sucks *cough*QuinnyoubigjerkCundertolwhotradedawayakingsransomforastupid274pickthat'snotgoingtobeworthnearlywhathepaidtogetit*cough*...sorry there, really had something stuck in my throat. Anyways, while popular perception is that this Draft doesn't have much talent. I could not disagree more.

    Let's look at the fact that we had three Helmsman Finalists ranked low by HSN. First off, HSN doesn't know what they're talking about. They only talk about the ELL all the time and they don't watch college games other than the highlights. Sure, Prya Tiin has a ridiculously good highlight reel, but Zak Pers absolutely destroyed the competition at UCBV. I mean demolished them. Annihilated them. And Ema Zostin at number 9? I'm telling the GMs of the ELL that you skip on Zostin at your own peril. This Chiss is the real deal. I think she can start day one in the ELL and contribute, day one.

    There are four players, however, I think that HSN and the Helsman committee absolutely missed:
    • Bengi Zire (Talz, Male, University of Garos, Full Back) - Ummm did anyone actually watch the at-large play in Garos had against Tipoca City? Or the smackdown that Garos laid on Eriadu Tech? Zire is the heart and soul of the Garos team and he is waaaaaaaaaaaay undervalued at #8 on defense. Seriously, he's got the stuff here. I would absolutely take Zire in the first round. I'd take him first overall if I had a need for a full back (and after the season that Vandelhelm had, they probably do. With Yore Vex Ten finally opting into a draft for a change, he picked the right year. Unless there's an expansion team or something, but I highly doubt the ELL is going to expand). Anyways, Zire's draft stock could absolutely soar if Garos beats Prytis in the championship.
    • Kerriryyhn (Wookiee, Female, Citadel University of Anaxes, Left Corner Back) - I know, I know, Kerriyyhn got lit up by Prytis in the Carnation Bowl. It wasn't her best game, sure, but Citadel U had some absolute shutdown play in the regular season. I like Kerriyyhn a lot at corner back. She's got good size and is a little quicker than your average Wookiee. There's no way she should be ranked as low as 10. She's got a lot of potential so I think that she's first round material, but the truth is that unless a team is specifically looking for a corner back, Kerriyyhn is probably worth spending a second round pick on (hey Cundertol? Hear that you big jerk? When Tarth's contract expires after this season you're going to wish you'd developed an equally mobile, dominating corner back to replace her. And you had such a high second round draft pick from the Monarchs too. Oh and you so smartly traded that to your archrival the Smugglers? Congratulations. I'm sure that Kerry Trieste will love watching an aging Corrie Andersen be utterly nullified by Kerriyyhn for the remainder of her contract, plus whatever hotshot they get to replace Andersen after that.
    • Raia Sanin (Human, Female, Midfielder, Aeos Rangers semi-pro team) - Okay the truth is that Sanin is way older than your average Draft player, but she's literally coming out of nowhere. As in I don't even know where Aeos is on a map. For someone to make the ELL Draft after all this time means she's got to have some hot stuff. She's a gamble for a lot of teams, but I think she's absolutely worth it. The Midfield has been one of the most evolved areas of the game in the last five years and Sanin could be a player to break it wide open for whoever claims her.
    • Jolis Horonel (Human, Male, Midfielder, Euceron Storm youth program) - Horonel is the exact opposite of Sanin. He is 19, way younger than most draftees, but deserves a good look from a lot of teams. The kid is raw talent and that means they can shape him however they want. I'm actually really intrigued by the Storm's independent efforts to cultivate limmie talent outside the college game. They've obviously got an edge on scouting with Horonel, but these young kids who skip the college game could really transform the game--if they've got the raw talent to compete. I mean, it's one thing to play against other teenagers. It's another to have to face Dirxx Horste at Andromeda. There's a high likelihood of a draft bust here, but I think that Horonel deserves a better look.
    And limmie gods, please, pretty pretty pretty please? Can you have the Chancellor temporarily go into a coma next year so Falene Trieste can declare for the Draft? Because after the utter destruction of Citadel U by PCNS in the Carnation Bowl, I am sports crushing pretty hard on this half back. Seriously--the race to the bottom of the ELL would be so awesome to watch. It's going to be so boring if Trieste doesn't declare for the Draft and just signs with the Miners. But honestly it would be the best thing in the galaxy for her. I wouldn't want to play limmie with my Mom as the owner. "Oh hey honey, how was your day at the stadium?" "I don't know Mom. You were watching from the owners box. Why don't you tell me?"


    Tag: All draft teams (so everyone), but I'll throw Rebecca_Daniels in here since her board notifications are on the fritz
  15. Rebecca_Daniels

    Rebecca_Daniels Jedi Grand Master star 5

    Sep 3, 2006
    IC: Zoa Vra

    The team was a combination of jubilant and nervous, understandably. They'd made the finals once before in recent team history, three seasons ago, and had been soundly beaten through a combination of superior play and a lineup built from reserves and the less-injured players. This season they'd been lucky, and they knew it, with barely an injury to hold them back; they were healthy, fit, and ready to pounce on the Scrappers. (Seeza Tey was their only semi-serious injury, out with a sprained ankle and a bad temper; no one sent her any well-wishes because the Weequay would likely snap their necks if they did.)

    Zoa felt good, better than she had since she'd taken an awkward tackle in a game earlier that season that'd pulled something in her shoulder. Dr. Kraraal was still on her to sit out the game, but there was no way that the Captain would miss the final, not when they were this close to finally coming out on top. And Kraraal knew her words fell on deaf ears, so she simply prescribed pain blockers and rest, of which only the former would actually be done.

    The problem was that Zoa knew she was a liability on the field. If she took another hit to that shoulder she'd likely be out for months, and they'd have to change their strategy with a sudden substitution. If Sunlua had time to plan to fit Vursel in instead of Zoa, they could still probably win this, even though the Bothan was definitely her inferior in the position. But if she didn't play, she'd regret it for the rest of her days, especially if they lost. The team needed her.

    Still, she pulled Sunlua aside after practice, three days before the final, and quietly told her to have Vursel ready, just in case she needed to be pulled. Wisely, the coach didn't ask, just accepted it and called Vursel over for a talk. Zoa felt a knot of frustration pull tighter as she walked away.

    Syra swung an arm around Zoa's shoulders, leaning in with a sly smile. "I had a thought earlier," she began, and Zoa raised her brow. "I know, hard to believe, right? Anyway, I suggested to a couple of the team that it might be a good idea to go out tonight, get some drinks, relax... take our minds off the final?"

    Zoa had to admit it sounded like a good idea, but: "Did you clear it with Sunlua first?" she asked, shrugging Syra's arm off her shoulders and facing her.

    "Nooooo..." she drew the word out, and then crossed her arms. "Look, I figured I'd clear it with you and that'd be enough, yeah? What coach doesn't know won't hurt her and everyone needs the break. Practice isn't until tomorrow afternoon anyway."

    While the release of tension would be good, the alcohol would not be. But Zoa knew Syra would go ahead with her plan with or without Zoa's approval; this was more of a courtesy conversation anyway. She sighed and nodded, waving her assistant Captain away.

    "Keep it to a couple drinks, okay?"

    Let them have fun and come back more focused tomorrow... hopefully.



    When Zoa walked into the club where her team was partying, she very nearly did an about-face and left. The music was bad enough already, but seeing her teammates the way they were made her temper flare.

    They weren't all there; some of more mature players, the married players, the ones just too tired to party, were back in their hotel, likely asleep by now. Zoa had been called by the club management after her players were recognised and one gave away her number. Apparently her team was giving themselves a bad name, and paparazzi could show up at any second.

    Veiana was leading the way, no surprises there, drawing every male humanoid within rage with her natural-born abilities as a Zeltron. Zenro and Thudak were about to come to blows over her, Litan was doing shots with Kasin, Nolli wasn't naked, but it was a near thing, Shahka was a danger to anyone who passed close enough for her uncoordinated movements to hit, and Tung was trying to cover his ears and drink at the same time. Syra, the one supposedly in charge of this mess, was in the midst of a drinking contest with a Duros.

    On any other night she might have just left them and berated them in the morning, let them suffer the consequences of their actions by watching Sunlua put them through drills until they hurled, or whatever equivalent their species had. But she'd been hesitant to agree with this in the first place, and this wasn't 'a couple drinks'.

    She barged through the crowd, head lowered and horns threatening what would happen if they didn't move, and shoved Zenro and Thudak apart, wishing she'd had the foresight to bring their two Wookiee teammates with her. They seemed to recognise her, at least, and didn't return to their fight. Veiana was less easy to drag away, but Zoa didn't release her until she was stumbling and aware of what was happening. She didn't bother with the others just yet, in the hopes they'd catch a hint and leave of their own accord. First she had to deal with Syra.

    Zoa yanked the woman's headpiece until she stood up and faced her. Syra seemed surprised at her presence, and was just drunk enough to try her Captain's patience.

    "What?" she said, towering over the smaller Zabrak. Zoa pulled at her headpiece again until their faces were almost level.

    "What are you doing?" she hissed. "I said a couple drinks, not getting completely blitzed. We are playing in the GCLA finals in three days, I remind you."

    Syra shrugged and tried to pull away, but Zoa wouldn't let her. "Do you want the reporters to hear about this? If we manage to win and this is our headline as we head into the Elite League, what sort of reputation will we have?" Syra's eyes met hers, and then lowered.

    "Sorry," she mumbled, and Zoa let her go.

    "Practice has been moved up to 0900 tomorrow. Anyone who doesn't show up isn't playing in the final."

    She left Syra to collect their mess of a team before someone took holos.



    Everyone made it to practice, though most of them looked slightly ill. Sunlua, having been briefed on the previous night by Zoa, didn't hold back at all in working them half to death. Smiling grimly at the looks of hatred some of them sent her way, she knew that they'd get over it once their hangovers wore off.

    And once they realised that despite everything, they looked tight today, prepared. Ready for the finals.

    Ready to win.

    TAG: No one.
    Trieste likes this.
  16. Jedi Gunny

    Jedi Gunny Yahtzee Host star 9 VIP - Game Host

    May 20, 2008
    IC: Gark S’rily
    Senators Team HQ

    The first thing Gark realized when he awoke from his long slumber on the couch was that he was in complete pain. Even lifting his head was met with a certain amount of soreness in his neck and head muscles, and he struggled to sit up. Groggily, he rubbed his eyes and looked around the team lounge. The chrono on the wall said that it was 0930, which meant that he would have overslept had this been any other day. But, as with anything he seemed to do these days, he was needed in a few hours. Why did the Elite League awards ceremony have to be tonight, he wondered. He had just saved the Senate from certain doom, and yet he couldn’t even get a decent day to rest up his aching joints in return . . .

    It took quite a while to drag himself to the sports medicine room where the doctors typically administered the physical therapy and medications for the players. Once he reached the room, Gark opened up the medicine cabinet and popped a painkiller in his mouth. It wasn’t going to do a ton, but hopefully it would at least let him get through the next few hours. Had quite a few things to look up on the HoloNet, such as preliminary scouting for the Draft, videos of prospects to watch, and related Limmie things.

    As he dragged himself back over to the Lounge, Gark wondered why it was so empty today. Yes, the Senators had lost a few days earlier in their Semifinal game, but typically the team employees were here weeks after the end of the season finishing up everything that needed to be done. No one seemed to be here but him today, which sucked for two reasons. One, in case he needed to get more painkillers, he would have to go all the way back to the medicine cabinet to grab some. Undoubtedly he would have to do that at some point, since he would need quite a few pills in his system to allow him to walk without much pain at the Awards bash later on. Being a superhero wasn’t easy, unlike popular myth; he was easily breakable. Secondly, it meant that Me’lin wasn’t in today either. Of course, Gark knew that she was probably already scouring the HoloNet for real estate listings and related items, so she probably would take a day off from work for a change and attend to what she considered more important at this point. Gark couldn’t really blame her for being excited about these new prospects, but he also wished that she would show up and help him through at least part of the day. He had somehow gotten through the last 24 hours on adrenaline; now he needed someone to lean on when the soreness raged in his muscles.

    As he collapsed into the chair at the HoloNet terminal in the team lounge, Gark began to flip through files of prospects playing. It had been announced that Jalin Mioree of the Air Fleet Academy had been named the Helmsman Memorial Trophy winner several nights earlier, but Gark went right past this without hesitating. There was no way the Senators, at the eighth pick in the draft currently, would be able to draft him . . . unless the Commissioner got a great idea and expanded the league, which would push the Senators back another spot. Thus, he started to look at other names further down the list of top prospects. What exactly did the Senators need is what he wanted to know, so he was looking up names when his comlink rang. Grunting, Gark picked up the unit and flipped it on.

    “ ‘Ello,” he said.

    “Hey,” Me’lin said on the other end of the line.

    “Hi,” Gark said, groaning again as he felt a sharp pain in his back due to the soreness.

    “You all right?” Me’lin asked in her concerned tone of voice.

    “I feel like I was run over by a speeder,” Gark said. “Sore all over, and stuck taking painkillers to keep myself upright. And, worst of all, no one is in today.”

    “That’s terrible!” the Twi’lek exclaimed. “I thought everyone was still supposed to report in today . . .”

    “Well, no one has yet,” Gark said. “I had to drag myself to the medicine cabinet, literally. Remind me to take several of them for tonight to keep me in one piece.”

    “Speaking of tonight, you need a ride?”

    “Duh,” Gark said. “I don’t have access to my speeder from here, and even if I did, I don’t think I’d be safe piloting it in this condition.”

    “I’ll be there in thirty,” Me’lin replied.

    “All right,” Gark said. Grunting once again, he turned off the comlink and then sank back into his chair. Today was going to be a long day.


    Sienar Center, Coruscant

    The Awards ceremony was, simply put, huge. With the Galactic Cup Final in a few days on Coruscant, the League had decided to pull out all the stops to promote the annual awards any way possible. Tabloids had been talking about it all day, and fans were delirious to see their favorite players and coaches, not to mention celebrities, walk the red carpet. In Gark’s case, he partially hobbled down the walk of fame in front of the fans, who gave him the loudest cheer of all not just because of his place with the Senators, but also because of what he had done 24 hours earlier. Calls for autographs went out like crazy from the massed group of people, but several of Gark’s players were able to usher him inside without much hassle. He didn’t want to be rude, but given the fact that his mind was foggy enough with three painkillers in his body that he didn’t want to do anything stupid. But what really kept him upright was Me’lin, standing by him the entire time to give him someone to lean on as he staggered in. Why didn’t those painkillers kick in just yet, he wondered.

    In the VIP area, Gark collapsed into one of the plush chairs and took a sigh of relief. There, he had made it to the party. Me’lin occupied herself by wandering off to the food table, leaving Gark with his players, Alysha Romax, the stud midfielder, Venn Sto, the solid netminder who had almost pushed the Senators to the Final after a rough start to the season, and Kev Flysto, the backup forward who had played well this season despite his numbers not looking so hot on paper.

    “You look terrible,” Kev commented.

    “Try having your nose bashed in, and your joints beaten to a pulp,” Gark said.

    “Touché,” Alysha said. Kev just shrugged.

    “Hey!” came a loud voice that Gark knew all too well. He looked over and saw Dirxx come towards him, flanked by Polis. “The conquering hero returns!” the Besalisk said.

    “If sitting counts as a return, I’ll take it,” Gark said, finally cracking a slight grin.

    “How ya feelin’, Coach?” Dirxx asked.

    “Sore,” the Bothan replied. “Really sore. But I’ll pull through.”

    “You’d better, especially since I have a feeling that you might need to give an acceptance speech tonight,” Dirxx said.

    “Oh, that,” Gark said. “I haven’t given that one ounce of thought all day. If I win, I’ll just wing it.”

    “As always,” Polis said.

    “As always,” Gark repeated for effect. He was glad to have such great players on his team. Perhaps they weren’t the best team on the field, as evidenced by their loss days earlier, but Gark doubted that other teams had better people on their teams. He was honored to be the coach of these thirty players; they made it worth coming to work every day.

    After about half an hour, the call was given to head to the auditorium, so Gark, with some help from his team captains, was hauled out of the chair and made his way with the other VIPs to the main stage. He was feeling stronger now, as the pain seemed to have subsided somewhat. It wasn’t perfect, but at least he could walk without a ton of pain.

    The atmosphere in the auditorium was electric. It was truly a sight to behold; thousands of people in their seats, chatting excitedly about who would take home the hardware. Gark slumped into his seat and prepared himself for the ceremony to follow.

    Finally, after a few minutes, the Commissioner came out onto the stage. "Thank you, thank you," Kayl'hen said, "Welcome, everyone. I'm extremely excited to be joined by the one reason that we play, week in and week out: the fans. You are what drive the League. You're what's on our mind every day. So I just want to thank all of you for all of your support. This has been a fantastic season, a season to celebrate. With that being said, let's get down to business, shall we?”

    The first award of the night, the Ingbrand, went to Chenkabukk of the Euceron Storm. Gark knew first-hand that this kid had almost single-handedly cost the Senators a win earlier in the year with his skills, so he was definitely a deserving party of the award. Fortune had also been a good player during the season, despite the Senators dismantling his Mercs earlier on. But Fortune had also deserved it, which meant that there had at least been some intrigue into who would win the award.

    Next up was the Langann. No real surprise here either, as Adenn Viszla won the award for the Mercs. Gark had to hand it to the man; he had turned around the once-sorry Mercs franchise and was now headed to the Galactic Cup Final. It was a shame that the Senators hadn’t been able to pull it off, but Gark couldn’t help but see shades of his own work with the Senators in what was happening with the Mercs. Change direction by placing new people in the front office, and go to the title game the next season with a fresh new set of ideas.

    "Limmie is a hard game, but some overcome more than others. The Zumtak Award is awarded to the being who most embodies the values of perseverance and dedication to the sport of limmie in a season. This season we have three worthy nominees. They are Zeke Barbosa of the Ryloth Rough Riders for overcoming off field issues, Meredith Chambers of the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers for returning to the sport after a serious injury, and Gark S'rily of the Coruscant Senators for contributions to the sport of Limmie.”

    The holocameras showed the three contestants in the crowd. Gark figured that he wouldn’t have to go up for the award, since Chambers definitely deserved it in his mind. She had come back from a gruesome injury and, although the Smugglers had missed the playoffs, had at least played her hardest. You couldn’t ask much more from the current ‘Iron Girl’ of the League. As for Zeke Barbosa . . . well, Gark knew he’d have a shot at this. This left himself, which he knew he could win but also could lose out.

    "And the Zumtak goes a close vote, Gark S'rily of the Coruscant Senators."

    The auditorium simply exploded. The Gark S’rily chant started to make its way around the venue, and Gark somehow hobbled up to the podium to take the award. Once he received the trophy, he went up to the mic.

    “I firsthand will apologize to the news networks for me not gliding gracefully up here to the podium to receive this award. I’m currently on three painkillers, so if I say anything stupid, you’ll know why.” Laughs came from the crowd as Gark gave off a sheepish grin.

    “Anyways, I want to thank my team for not quitting on me, even when things looked dire. I know how much my presence means to all of them, and I’m glad to know that they kept fighting for me even when I was in some dire straits. I also wish to thank Coach Andrew Mundle for keeping the faith in my absence, and for getting the team to the Semifinals.

    That said, I have one more thing that needs to be said. After the events of the last 24 hours, I’ve realized that the writing is on the wall. I hereby retire permanently as coach of the Senators; I just don’t think I can take the rigors of the job anymore, especially with recent developments. So this means that I won’t be pushing anyone for Langanns in the near future.” More laughs from the crowd. “But I just want to let the Senators fans out there, and I know you’re out there, that this doesn’t mean that I’ll step away from the game. We’ll be back next season as good as ever. Anyways, I’m probably pushing my time limit, so now I have a Cup Final to preside over. Thank you once again for your votes; this means a lot.”

    When he had finished, the applause in the auditorium was like rolling thunder. It was a standing ovation from Senators fans, knowing that they saw one of the greats finally hang up the headset for the last time. As Gark exited the building to be grilled by the media, he could see that the people were still standing for him. Despite his vigilante dealings, they still respected him for his courage under fire and skills as keeping the Senators relevant in the Elite League.

    The interview session was a blur for Gark. He just went through the motions as he answered questions for the media, most of them the usual mindless drivel that they seemed to feed on. Several questions came up about his alternate persona, and all Gark said was that he couldn’t disclose any information on what Superbothan would do next. Frankly, he was thinking of retiring as a masked superhero, since it had almost gotten him killed twice in a few weeks. On the other hand, people here on Coruscant seemed so intent on having him around to keep them safe and the danger he might be in if he didn’t keep it up were also present in the back of his mind. He would decide later; for now, he had won the Zumtak, and he was going to revel in it for at least one night.

    After he had won the award and done the media circuit, he caught the end of Cundertol’s speech for winning the Grames Award. What a pompous ass that fool was, Gark thought. To go up there and basically lambast the voters for not giving him the hardware earlier, that was a low blow only a real headcase like Cundertol could come up with. Gark just had to shake his head at the whole spectacle; Cundertol’s arrogance would get him into trouble someday. Then, Jenna Leed won the Salbukk Award for the League MVP, which ended the night.

    After the ceremony was over, and the VIP parties had been taken elsewhere, Gark instead hopped back in Me’lin’s speeder and headed back to Team HQ. It was a relatively uneventful ride, as Gark was basically asleep by the time he had buckled himself in, so when he was dropped off at HQ, he went straight to sleep on the couch in the lounge, the Zumtak sitting neatly on a nearby table. With this hardware, he now had a 2-2-2-2 combo of hardware to his name; 2 Zumtaks, 2 Langanns, 2 Grames Awards . . . but most importantly, 2 Galactic Cups. Although this last season had fallen just short of the Final, Gark knew right before he slipped into sleep that next year would present another chance for the Senators to bring home the Cup once again.

    TAG: Anyone who Cares to Comment
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  17. Trieste

    Trieste Force Ghost star 5

    Apr 10, 2010
    GM Post canceled--prematurely made
  18. Trieste

    Trieste Force Ghost star 5

    Apr 10, 2010

    [FONT=Helvetica]The Rookorra Hotel, Atalanta, Bakura[/FONT]


    “You’re lovely.”

    “Mmmmm.” It was not an indulgent hum, but rather one of boredom.

    “You’re exsquisite,” he said, kissing her alabaster arm.

    “We’re here to discuss business,” she said, “I have an opening at 2743 Darlen. It would suit your needs.”

    “I’m much more interested in [I]other[/I] business,” he continued.

    She withdrew her arm. “I’ve told you, we’re not going there.”

    “You’re such a tease.”

    “If you’re going to be that way, then goodbye Crix,” she said, standing.

    “Don’t be cross,” Crix said, “You were never this way at UBSD. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

    “Beings change,” she said simply as she picked up her purse from a divan.

    “If you didn’t come here for that, then why did you come here?” he asked, anger beginning to creep into his voice, “You were never cruel. Easy, but never cruel.”

    “You said you wanted to talk business so I brought you an option on some very nice property. I get here and you only want to talk pleasure. I indulged you for times gone by, but if you have no intention of signing, then we have nothing to talk about.”

    “As if you tried to stop me!”

    “Crix, a negotiation is just another romance. While I accept that the line blurs from time to time,” she said from inside the doorframe, “I will not let myself be screwed over.”

    And with that she walked out, the door sliding shut behind her.

    One minute later Ayn Dormingale exited the lift and walked into the lobby of the Rookorra Hotel, named for the first Chancellor of this iteration of the Republic (the Third Republic some called it, and Ayn found it a somewhat pleasing term). It was one of the nicest hotels in the city of Atalanta and it was where Ayn stayed when she had business there. It wasn’t simply an indulgence of her innate appreciate for luxury that led her to stay there—it was good business.

    As a member of the most recent graduating class of UBSD, Ayn now had to do something with herself. Being the granddaughter of a former Prime Minister (albeit one who had not been elected to the post) was a considerable advantage in life, but it didn’t mean she could live a life of leisure. Non-profit and charity jobs were often the province of upper class women like herself (and she had no humble pretensions to be anything to the contrary), but Ayn had no interest in that. It was worthwhile work, but it wouldn’t satisfy her. Ayn knew what she did well. She was a socializer, a skill that served one more than well in charity work, but Ayn had a hunger for something more than raising money for a hospital. She wanted to make credits—and more importantly meet power brokers. After some thought as to where she could put these skills to good use, Ayn had parlayed her famous last name into interviews with the right corporate real estate companies. There were different classifications of office space. The highest was “class A” space.

    Ayn Dormingale sold what would accurately be described as class AAA space.

    The firm that she signed on with was old and respectable, the Belden Company. They were known as a [COLOR=#141414][FONT=Helvetica]“[/FONT][/COLOR]boutique commercial real estate company.” They were trusted by Bakuran elites (the sort who shared the colonial lineage back to the Ardens--for that matter their client list included a healthy number of Ardens as well) to handle their business property dealings. The Belden Company sold (and sometimes built) and managed office space in buildings located at the most respectable addresses. They were the sort of addresses that beings leased when they wanted to say to the galaxy that they should be taken seriously, that they were movers and shakers. Ayn Dormingale was very happy to provide them with that opportunity—at the right price.

    As an average graduate, even from UBSD, Ayn should never have been hired by the Belden Company, not right out of university. She was young, had no work experience, and lacked even a business degree. This ignored her other qualities. The first was one that Sabé Dormingale, Ayn's grandmother who had raised her, had noticed long ago. Ayn possessed an allure that could intoxicate many male beings. Sabé had struck it closest to the mark when she realized that Ayn had eyes like dark hooks for the soul. It was a considerable advantage in negotiations and her employers knew it—having experience her deployment of such charms on themselves as she interviewed with them.

    Her second advantage came from the fact that Sabé Dormingale was well connected from her long career in public service. [COLOR=black][FONT=Helvetica]Sabé had started life as the[/FONT][/COLOR] elected Princess of Keren in her teenage years. She had been highly regarded as an up-and-comer on Naboo. That changed during the consolidation of Quorro rule that saw Naboo shift from elected monarchy to a hereditary model. Sabé had been on the losing side of that political shift and was forced into preemptive exile by those closest to her out of fears for her life. Eventually [COLOR=black][FONT=Helvetica]Sabé made the acquaintance of Fionn Dunross Trieste, recently resigned from heading Republican Intelligence and campaigning for Prime Minister of Bakura.[/FONT][/COLOR] After serving as Deputy Chief of Staff for the majority of Fionn’s first administration as PM, she ran for Senate in Cape Suzette and proceeded to hold the seat for 42 years, from 224 until 266. She had become the Senate leader of Fianna Fail in 252, which gained a majority in the Senate four years later, elevating Sabé to Deputy Prime Minister, a post she surrendered only upon the resignation of Kerry Trieste to become Supreme Chancellor in 266. Sabé finished Kerry’s term and declined to run for any office in the 268 elections. Her years on Naboo and Bakura had vaulted [COLOR=black][FONT=Helvetica]Sabé into high esteem throughout much of the galaxy. Needless to say,[/FONT][/COLOR] Ayn, Sabé’s only living relative, benefited immensely from her association with her grandmother.

    Ayn Dormingale had been accepted into influential circles ever since Sabé had assumed responsibility for rearing her infant granddaughter. Ayn had known beings who were influential and powerful like most beings knew their next door neighbors: it was just the way things were. Ayn was [COLOR=black][FONT=Helvetica][COLOR=#141414][FONT=Helvetica]“[/FONT][/COLOR]one of us,[/FONT][/COLOR][COLOR=black][FONT=Helvetica][COLOR=black][FONT=Helvetica][COLOR=#141414][FONT=Helvetica]” as they saying went,[/FONT][/COLOR] and she was part of a network of people who would want only the most exclusive real estate for their businesses.[/FONT][/COLOR][/FONT][/COLOR] In the ways of the galaxy, knowing the right people was second only to being in the right place at the right time—and Ayn always had an impeccable sense of timing. It was only because she had been at the right place at the right time when she had moved into her sophomore year dorm at UBSD that she had caught the attention of Declan Trieste. Despite the close working relationship between their mothers, Sabé and Declan had never met until that day. Counting the son of the Chancellor as a personal friend was nothing you put on a resume, but it was invaluable.

    Outside, Ayn stepped into a cab, after discreetly tipping the steward, and had the door shut behind her.

    [I]Declan…[/I] she thought as she headed for the spaceport.

    She did not cultivate Declan’s friendship because it was useful. She kept it because she loved him.

    It was a realization she had come to two years ago with the full knowledge that Declan did not love her. There had never been that feeling between them. Of course, she had been…popular at UBSD and unashamed of it. That was not the kind of being that Declan Trieste would fall for. Sharp, if somewhat bookish, Delcan Trieste would never be attracted to that. So Ayn had left off with the old ways (well, not entirely…a human had to live after all...but she was much more restrained in her pursuits these days), but she was afraid that Declan hadn’t realized that she’d changed.

    And it was Becca Durst’s fault.

    Ayn clenched a fist at the thought of this young woman. Declan had caught sight of Senator Madsen’s adopted daughter, now a sophomore at UBTV, two years ago and been taken with her. So much so that Declan, who could have done anything he wanted as Kerry Trieste’s son, had gone to work with the Telaan Valley Farm Authority. Declan Trieste had never been on a farm once in his entire life. This was not a passion that suddenly came over a being, despite the fact that Declan had confided in Ayn that he wanted to do real work to do, something that would really help beings, and that his uncle Atticus Eldred had recommended the family farm as something that needed help thriving on Bakura. It had nothing to do with the fact that UBTV was located in Golden Prairie in the heart of the Telaan Valley, where the TVFA also happened to be headquartered.
    And Ayn hadn’t worn a short skirt when she wanted to raise her grade in a class. Sure.

    If Becca had been a being like Ayn, she would have been an opponent Ayn could have beat. However, young Miss Durst didn’t have that guile in her. It made her a whole different kind of dangerous.

    However, Ayn had one ace that Becca didn’t. Dormingale looked down at the datapad in her lap. It was open to BBC Sports. The picture was of Quinn Cundertol accepting the Grames Award as top general manager of Elite League Limmie and the headline read, "ARROGANT CUNDERTOL." A certain four letters were slightly larger than the others. Shocking stuff from the homeworld news outlet, but Cundertol's victory speech had not gone over well, even on Bakura. She already had heard the news and was catching up with the analysis on her way to the spaceport. The article, it turned out, was an overall look at Cundertol's offseason, including his shocking trade for the Merc's first round pick next year. He'd given up quite a bit for it[COLOR=#141414][FONT=Helvetica][COLOR=black][FONT=Helvetica][COLOR=black][FONT=Helvetica]—[/FONT][/COLOR][/FONT][/COLOR][/FONT][/COLOR]so much so that a lot of Miner fans were wondering what Cundertol was doing. His acceptance speech had not helped his case. Some fans were actually saying that Cundertol was no longer "the mighty Quinn" and should be removed as GM. Others marveled that the Chancellor hadn't already fired him. Kerry Trieste did not suffer controversial figures in her organization, making Cundertol's continued employment surprising to say the least.

    Ayn had never been an ardent sports fan, but she was teaching herself to become one. She needed to. Two years ago, Declan had invited Ayn to join him in the Trieste box for a Miners limmie game. It turned out that the Noble House enjoyed her presence and the Chancellor indicated that Ayn was always welcome to join them. She was now essentially a fixture there—something that Becca Durst most decidedly was not. That was her advantage.

    Ayn had quickly intuited that limmie was an addiction for the Triestes. They lived and died with the team, caught up in the throes of passion (it was a useful analogy for Ayn) that coursed through a season. They flocked to Bakura Gardens for every home game. Plenty of them traveled with the team to road games. Kerry Trieste, who had been told at the end of her college career that if she had devoted her life to limmie that she could have made it in the Elite League (a dream she declined to scale the heights of politics instead), viewed the team very personally. The Miners were a reflection of her. And Declan as her eldest son was most likely to become the next Taoiseach of the Noble House of Trieste, which would make him owner of the Miners. He did not miss a game and she knew that not even his move to the Telaan Valley was going to keep him away from the Miners. His mother would undoubtedly pay for shuttle flights to Salis D'aar[COLOR=black][FONT=Helvetica][COLOR=black][FONT=Helvetica]—[/FONT][/COLOR][/FONT][/COLOR]or to offworld games for that matter[COLOR=black][FONT=Helvetica][COLOR=black][FONT=Helvetica]—[/FONT][/COLOR][/FONT][/COLOR]especially since it was a convenient way for her to periodically see her son. It was also a convenient way for Ayn to see the man she loved.

    Limmie was how Ayn Dormingale was her way to win Declan Trieste’s heart. Come hell or high water, she was going to do it.

    And like Quinn Cundertol, Ayn was going to have to bet big.

    [FONT=Helvetica]Approved by yours truly through his autocratic and dictatorial GM powers[/FONT]
    [COLOR=#141414][FONT=Helvetica]Name: Ayn Dormingale
    Species: Human
    Gender: Female
    Birth Year: 249 ABY
    Physical appearance: See above
    Homeworld: Bakura
    Relation to Team: Fan
    Brief Biography:[/FONT][/COLOR]
    Ayn Dormingale is a member of “the fast set,” “the in crowd,” whatever you want to call them. She’s on the list of people you invite to parties to impress other beings. Ayn doesn’t have much to do with limmie[COLOR=black][FONT=Helvetica][COLOR=black][FONT=Helvetica]—[/FONT][/COLOR][/FONT][/COLOR]although she did sleep with roughly half of the UB Salis D'aar Golden Bears limmie team during her time as a student there. The granddaughter of former Prime Minister Sabé Dormingale has gained a reputation as an alluring young woman. She is invited to all the right parties, has a contact book that includes all the fashionable beings, and, in short, is where she should be all the time. At any given moment there are likely two or three young male beings who are pining for Ayn's charms and attention. Yet she has failed to win the one heart that she truly wants: that of Declan Trieste, heir apparent to the Noble House of Trieste and the Chairmanship of the Bakura Miners. Limmie is her way in and only that. It is a means to an end. Even so, the drama in the owner’s box has its own fascination for young Dormingale. It is full of ego, playing out between some of the most influential beings in the galaxy, a representation of their hopes and dreams, the embodiment of their machinations against one another. And if Ayn enjoys one thing, it’s high stakes games between the rich and powerful[COLOR=black][FONT=Helvetica][COLOR=#141414][FONT=Helvetica][COLOR=black][FONT=Helvetica][COLOR=black][FONT=Helvetica]—[/FONT][/COLOR][/FONT][/COLOR][/FONT][/COLOR][/FONT][/COLOR]and Elite League Limmie, she has realized, is one of the biggest games of all.
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  19. Jedi Gunny

    Jedi Gunny Yahtzee Host star 9 VIP - Game Host

    May 20, 2008
    IC: Riff Persnor
    Andromeda Steel Corp. Stadium, Day before Galactic Cup Final

    Riff walked through the team tunnel that the Coruscant Senators always used to enter the field at home. It felt odd walking through it as more of a civilian than as a player, when there was nothing to win and nothing to lose out on the field that day. No, the Senators had fallen oh so short of the Finals, and it gnawed at Riff to know that he had almost been able to come here and play in a Final underneath the lights.

    But, as was such, the Senators were instead just trying to make sure that things went smoothly. Coach S’rily had made an internal memo to the rest of the team to make sure that the visiting teams felt welcome, but also to keep an eye on them to make sure that they wouldn’t try to catch the grass on fire. Mostly it was out of concern for the Mercs, whom the Bothan didn’t trust at all, and whom he was probably worried would mar the home locker room if they got angry. Riff had volunteered to do today’s watching duties, since his friend Zeke Barbosa, the goalie for the Skywalker Conference champions Ryloth Rough Riders, was going to be playing in the Final.

    Finally, at the mouth of the tunnel, Riff slowly jogged out one more time for the season, wearing his Senators gear to show that this was a business trip, not one for fun. The Rough Riders were in the middle of a walkthrough out on the field, so he decided to just lounge around on the sideline as he watched them play. The Rough Riders had been notified that they were going to have a Senator personnel member on hand if they needed to ask any questions about the Final. All Riff couldn’t do was say what the Mercs were going to do, although he knew that he could easily divulge playing tips to Zeke if he really wanted to.

    Finally, as the Rough Riders took a break from their walkthrough, Riff stood up from the bench that had been laid on the sideline and walked up to Zeke. “Looks like you’ve finally made the big time,” he quipped to the Bith.

    TAG: JediMaster_1977
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  20. JM_1977

    JM_1977 Jedi Master star 6

    May 23, 2011
    IC: Zeke Barbosa
    Andromeda Steel Corp. Stadium, Day before Galactic Cup Final

    The moment was almost here. The excitement Zeke was feeling was almost overwhelming. The dreams he had had as a kid watching his dad play were coming to a head. At this time tomorrow the Rough Riders would be locked in battle against the Mercs for the Galactic Cup Title, the trophy every Limmie team across the galaxy wished to get.

    The Rough Riders were going through their final walkthroughs, tuning up their game plan so every thing would be ready at game time. There had been rumors that Maximus Qorbus' name was being thrown around in trade talks, but the team didn't seem to be affected by it. Qorbus himself denied any questions about it during the Media Day earlier in the week.

    Zeke was in the middle of his drill that he did every game during pre-game, when he noticed a familiar face over on the sideline. He motioned for Fravid, who was standing in the wake, to come over and take a few reps while Zeke walked over to say hi. Fravid, who had filled in for Zeke in the Semis last week for undisclosed reasons, apparently had pleased Coach Mothker enough and convinced him that he had changed to the point Mothker had talked to a local Ryloth Judge to release Fravid into the custody of the team.

    As Zeke got closer to the side he couldn't believe who he saw. It was his old friend Riff Persnor. Zeke hadn't seen or spoken to him extensively since they parted ways at the All-Star game on Cloud City 2 years ago. Then, the Rough Riders were still a team in the GCLA, but Zeke had claimed to Riff that one day his team would make it in the ELL. Guess he had proven his statement to be correct.

    “Looks like you’ve finally made the big time."

    Zeke had a huge smile on his face. "Well well well. Long time no see my friend." Zeke walked over, grabbed Riff, and put him in a big hug.

    TAG: Jedi Gunny
  21. Jedi Gunny

    Jedi Gunny Yahtzee Host star 9 VIP - Game Host

    May 20, 2008
    IC: Riff Persnor
    Bursya Field at Andromeda Steel Corp. Stadium

    Well well well. Long time no see my friend," Zeke said as he gave Riff a huge hug. The Cathar wasn't sure what the other Rough Riders would make of this, seeing Zeke commiserate with someone not on the team. But Riff really didn't care; it was good to see Zeke again, even though he would rather be facing off against his old pal in the Finals where one of them would go home with the trophy. A little competition never hurt anyone.

    "Likewise," Riff finally said in response to what Zeke had said. Earlier in this season, he would have refused to talk to the Bith due to the steroid "scandal" that Zeke had, at that point, been accused of. However, with Zeke's name cleared of all wrongdoing, Riff knew that he wasn't going to dwell on that issue; it hadn't been Zeke's fault, and he hadn't been guilty of juicing.

    "It's been a while since Bespin and the All-Star Game," Riff continued. "You said that you'd make it to the Final someday, so here you are." He paused for Zeke's response, but then remembered something that he had forgotten.

    "Oh, and congrats on getting engaged, man," he added. He would have contacted Zeke earlier about this, but he had been preoccupied the last two weeks with the Senators' own playoff run, so he hadn't had time to talk to the Bith before this.

  22. Trieste

    Trieste Force Ghost star 5

    Apr 10, 2010
    GM Post

    To those of you who celebrate Easter, happy Easter. To everybody, happy Finals day! Bonus rolls to Mando'ade, Ryloth, and Ylesia. Banked bonus rolls for 273 to Bakura, Coruscant, Rydonni Prime, and Vandelhelm.

    We'll start with GCLA this time around.

    GCLA Playoffs
    GCLA Final
    (6) Ylesia Lightning at (5) Ord Mantell Scrappers (27-16)

    Congratulations to the Ylesia Lightning, 272 GCLA champions!

    Galactic Cup Playoffs
    The 117th Galactic Cup Final
    Andromeda Steel Corp. Field, Coruscant
    (2) Ryloth Rough Riders vs. (1) Mando’ade Mercs (32-14)

    Andromeda Steel Corp. Field, Coruscant

    "Gentlebeings, please welcome to the field Commissioner of Elite League Limmie, Niakara Kayl'hen," the public address announcer said.

    Niakara Kayl'hen walked to the middle of the field, the game well over, the traditional handshake completed, the celebrations still going on for one team, the heartbreak still fresh for another. She raised a microphone to her mouth. "The Numifolis Award is given to the most valuable player of the Galactic Cup Playoffs. The winner of Numifolis Award in 273 is Maximus Qorbus." The Commissioner motioned for the Nautolan, who had once hoisted the Helmsman Award as the top college player, to accept the award.

    "Before we go any further, let's congratulate the Mando'ade Mercs for what was truly an amazing season going from last in the League to the Galactic Cup Final," Kayl'hen said, "But we are here to crown a champion, one that has performed few teams have ever done--win the Galactic Cup in just two short seasons. Special congratulations to jodge Mothker for bringing this team together and to Lenlla Horhek for having the dream of bringing a Galactic Cup to Ryloth. Now, Zeke Barbosa, come here and get the Galactic Cup!"

    Congratulations to the Ryloth Rough Riders, the 272 Galactic Cup champions!

    Tag: Bardan_Jusik JM_1977 Rebecca_Daniels
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  23. Bardan_Jusik

    Bardan_Jusik Mand'alor - Manager of EUC, SWC and Anthology/BtS star 10 Staff Member Manager

    Dec 14, 2009

    IC: Beskaryc Taab
    Galactic Cup Finals, Coruscant

    Taab looked on as the Mercs performed their ritual dha werda verda before the start of the game. There had of course been no shortage of other pre-game festivities but this was not one the Mercs were willing to forego. Especially here, on Coruscant, the birthplace of the epic war poem and origin of the chant. It was a source of pride for all mando'ade, and the rhythmic dance helped to steel their hearts for the coming "battle.

    But just as the ancient Taung, the progenitors of the mando'ade and the subject of the dha werda verda had ultimately lost to the Battalions of Zhell on this, their ancient home world, so too would the Mercs be unable to carry the day. It was a tightly officiated game, something which never favored the Mercs, especially their bruising style of defense. Defensive penalties led to extra Ryloth possessions and lost opportunities for the Mercs. But Taab knew that wasn't the reason for their loss.

    It was the play of the Rough Riders goaltender that was the difference. With the tightly called game on the defensive end the offenses were allowed to run wild. It was clear to Taab that the league office wanted a high scoring game to drum up interest, after all this was two small market teams playing in their premier event and they couldn't afford to lose the big holo-markets too early. With Qorbus protected by the refs, shot after shot hit the back of the net. On the other end Barbosa played like a Bith possessed frustrating the Mercs rookie forwards. If Ryi and Kote had been here things might have been different. But they weren't, and it didn't. A close game at halftime became more and more out of reach as the game went on in the second half, and the Mercs lost, ending what had been a spectacular season. They had fallen just short this year, but they stayed on the field and along the sidelines as the Rough Riders celebrated. They would use their memories of this celebration to fuel their desires next season.

    [hr] [/hr]

    The team loaded up on the shuttle, heavily escorted by a contingent of Mandalorian Protectors. Recent events had demonstrated the need for such heavy security and Taab was glad for it. Though to be honest he was spoiling for a fight right about now. He turned around gazing at the starport around him one last time, this season was not one he would soon forget and he elready yearned for another trip back to the finals. A voice called out to him from the shadows... "Taab, K'olar!" (come here) He made his way over to the shadows, his left hand falling to the sidearm in its holster. But there would be no need for it. A figure emerged from the darkness, a figure he knew quite well. Taab lowered his head, almost, but not quite a bow, and greeted him. "Lord Mand'alor."

    "Silence Taab, I would speak with you..."

    Tag: JM_1977 for post game celebrations, No one for the more important bit.

    Trieste likes this.
  24. Bardan_Jusik

    Bardan_Jusik Mand'alor - Manager of EUC, SWC and Anthology/BtS star 10 Staff Member Manager

    Dec 14, 2009
    Mando'ade Mercs Transaction wire:

    Mando'ade Mercs announce the retirement of:

    • Ryi Kor'le, (Human Mandalorian female) Center half forward.
    • La'kelvafer Ret'ooeliel Kor'le, (Twi'lek Mandalorian, female) Right half back
    • Askah Kol (Human Mandalorian male) Center half back

    Mando'ade Mercs announce the re-signing of:

    • Jai Skirata (Human Mandalorian male), Right corner back, to a 2 year contract
    • Kii Skirata (Human Mandalorian female), Goaltender, to 2 year contract
    • Sev Kii'rle (Human Mandalorian male), Left half back to 1 year contract

    TAG: Trieste

  25. Jedi Gunny

    Jedi Gunny Yahtzee Host star 9 VIP - Game Host

    May 20, 2008
    Sub-GM Post
    College Championship Final

    What a slugfest. The University of Garos, an underdog in its own right, was trading blow after blow with the Prytis College of the Natural Sciences, the largest underdog of them all. The Rangers, who for years had been pushed around in the Bak10 by the teams with more money and more fans, not to mention those that paid their players huge sums of money like the College of Deredith and Millicent (and as many sports analysts had been guessing the University of Bakura, Telaan Valley had been doing for the past few years in addition to hiring shady street agents to woo players to their program), had finally hit the big time. Now it was time to see who would take home the trophy.

    The score was tied at 23 with only a minute left. The fans in the stands were going crazy; this one might be headed to OT. Garos brought the ball up, its star Left Corner Forward holding on to the ball in money time. It was her time to grab the victory here for all the underdogs out there. But then her delusions of grandeur were realized when the Rangers’ full back hit her like a speeder, causing the ball to fall onto the ground. A scrum ensued, both teams fighting tooth and nail for the ball. Finally, a Ranger player came out of the pile with it and chucked it up the field. Another fight ensued in the middle of the field, all of the players still going after it.

    Finally, one of the Ranger midfielders, seeing the clock tick down to six, booted the ball to clear it out of the zone and head to OT. However, the arc of the ball was solid, and it kept flying towards the goal. The Garos goalie was helpless to stop the ball as it sailed high over the bar as the horn blew. 24-23 Rangers. They had just won the College Championship. The kids from the research-driven college had just pulled off the biggest upset of them all, finally bringing long-deserved joy to their fans.

    TAG: Trieste
    Trieste likes this.