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

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

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  1. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 5
    IC: Ayn Dormingale
    Andromeda Steel Corp. Field, Coruscant

    The Miners came to play today. Ayn was sure of it. She was pretty sure that last year’s narrow loss was very much on the minds of the team. It was definitely on hers, that was for sure. The defense was still suffering, but the mood in the Noble House box was shifting. Ruunron was no longer the scapegoat. The problems were too deep to solely lie at the Trandoshan’s feet. Bree Tarth wasn’t keeping up with the Senator superstars today. That Heatly-Vayne duo was on fire today. Though the game was a close one, the Chancellor was clearly not pleased.

    “The loss of Inviere shouldn’t have caused this much of a drop off,” she said to no one in particular, but still inviting comment.

    “We’ve got Zire in the system. He could be called up,” Ronan offered.

    “Cundertol and Thorne feel strongly he needs seasoning to adjust to the pro game,” Kerry said. She was a hands-off owner—management made their decisions. Of course, she made her decisions too, and that was whether she wanted to renew Cundertol’s contract. His at-will contract, a mutually agreed upon caveat of his agreement with the Miners, meant that the Noble House could fire him at any time if they were displeased with his decisions.

    “A defensive assistant coach might be of use, free Valerii up during practice,” Regan suggested.

    “She’s not interested in a defensive coordinator,” Siona said.

    “I’m not talking about a coordinator. Just an assistant,” Regan replied, “She’s bucking the trend by not hiring coordinators, which is fine, but I’m worried she’s spread too thin in practice.”

    “I believe Reina Kether doesn’t have any assistants and she’s unloaded on Ylesia and…” Ayn paused to check her datapad, “It’s final, Nar Shaddaa too.”

    “Well that’s Nar Shaddaa and a bunch of rookies,” Siona said dismissively, “I don’t think we should take Kether seriously.”

    “Nobody took Tan Strensky seriously as a coach. Then he showed them in 246 and 247 that was a mistake,” Kerry Trieste interjected.

    If Ayn had a real voice in this discussion, she would have said that Valerii should be let to do her thing. She’d gone to the playoffs twice and won a Galactic Cup already in two years as head coach. That surely bought her some leeway. However, she was still just a guest here. Her true opinion was not wanted.

    The attention of the box was suddenly grabbed by Shev Fil’yer of the Senators laying a blindside hit out on an unsuspecting Corrie Andersen, who had only a second earlier, received the bolo-ball. The entire box was on its feet, most of them shouting despite the fact the referees would never be able to hear them.

    “Penalty!”

    “Where’s the call?”

    “No call?”

    “Are you kidding me!”

    “She was a defenseless player!”

    The Triestes were roiling as Andersen was on all fours on the turf, her head down. Team doctor Han Tunross had run across the field to where Andersen was clearly hurting and had knelt at her side to perform an evaluation of the corner forward that was a large part of the Miner offense. The Senator fans had cheered the hard hit, just like Miner fans would do in a similar situation. Ayn noticed that Alana Glencross had gone over to the referee and was emphatically pleading a case with the ref, clearly unhappy there was no call. After about fifteen seconds, the ref made a motion and the crowd cheered. The Miners captain had just been officially warned. Any more of whatever she said (it was likely a choice word or two, though not too choice) and she would be ejected. The incensed midfielder was walked back by her predecessor as captain, Landa, who had a somewhat cooler head.

    Well, there goes the Duchess Eldin for Glencross, Ayn thought privately.

    Andersen was on her feet again and walking towards the sideline, apparently at the instruction of Tunross. Valerii was forced to pull from her reserves to fill Andersen’s spot at corner forward, which was not a good thing. The Miners’ strength came from fielding three deadly scoring threats. You had to respect all of them or get burned by any one of them.

    “Not good,” Declan muttered.

    “Wait…65…” Ayn said, she flipped through her game program on her datapad, “65’s a half forward. What the…that’s not right.”

    “Hold on,” Ginny said, “She’s moving Alesh up to corner forward.”

    Kerry smacked her forehead. “Of course. Alesh played corner forward at A&M. She’s probably the second best right corner forward on the team after Andersen.”

    On the next Miner offensive zone possession, a new dynamic was added to the Miners’ attack: the long, high diagonal cross pass. Instead of going side-to-side on the corner forward line, Morlan used her historic familiarity with Alesh to hit her fellow Hapan up front, shifting the entire field every time she did it. It kept the Senators defense off balance nicely and Alesh hit home some bar points to make the most of her proximity to the net.

    The Miner who most capitalized on Andersen’s absence was Rodders, who became a scoring machine in the middle. The power full forward was picking his spots on Sto and making the Senators pay in this back-and-forth affair. Ayn took great pleasure in that. Aron Rodders was the patron saint of the UB Salis D’aar Golden Bears to this day. It was not exactly a celebrated limmie program and Rodders was still the best thing that had happened to it in the last 20 years, if not longer. Every point he scored was another feather in UBSD’s cap as far as Ayn was concerned. Considering there were no less than three other UBSD Bears in the Noble House box (and one of them was the Chancellor), she was certain that they had similar feelings about Rodders.

    Horste was dropping low to give Rodders extra attention. It was this that resulted in Rodders accidentally putting the Besalisk into Sto in a tangle that resulted in the Shistaven being escorted off the field, obviously in physical distress. The Noble House box wasn’t very happy about this—not just because injuries were generally unpleasant.

    “I don’t care if she’s been warming the bench,” Mandy said, “Leed’s dangerous.”

    “It’s hard to start midgame,” Kerry said, “Off an injury, even harder.”

    The Chancellor turned out to be right. Landa, who had focused more assists in the last two years, decided he wanted to show the Galactic City precisely why he had been Miners captain once upon a time. He shook his minder from the Senators defense, broke into open field, and then spun the ball in front of him so he could deliver a whizzer into a wide open net that Leed was nowhere near close to stopping, or even having a chance on.

    “Maybe Gaeriel should let him shoot a bit more!” Dorian said exuberantly.

    The Miners kept on Leed, who got better, but nowhere near good enough. They wore her down with point after point, sometimes over the bar, sometimes under. Rodders went 2-4-10 on the day and everybody got in on the scoring. The Baby Eopie, Alesh, was 1-5-8 and Landa put up his highest point total in two years at 1-4-7. Glencross, who had been on best behavior since her warning, was part of the offense with a 1-3-6 day.

    It had not been a good day for the defense. They’d surrendered 30 points and only been saved by their teammates at the other end of the field. Jorpik had not been good at all and given up too many goals that an Elite League goaltender should have stopped. It was looking like a sophomore slump for the UBTV product.
    But it was a win against the Senators and that was always a good thing. The Senator fans had to watch as Alana Glencross received the Old Rosewood Gavel on behalf of the Miners as victors of the Senatorial Showdown. The Triestes, and Ayn, stood and applauded from the box, as did the Miner fans who had made the trip to the galactic capital. It had not been a pretty victory when you looked at the whole field, but it had been a win and that was what counted, especially with the state of the Solo Conference these days.

    “It’s always good to beat those guys,” Declan said to Ayn as they headed for the lifts.

    “We could do with a little more of it,” Ayn said.

    “Glad you decided to travel this season?” Declan asked.

    “Absolutely,” Ayn said, turning her eyes and a smile on Declan with all the charm she could muster.

    Declan smiled back. “I’m glad,” he said.

    The moment didn’t go any further than that, but Ayn’s heart leapt all the same. It looked like this was just going to work.

    TAG: @Jedi Gunny and @Liam_Vehn @Rebecca_Daniels since I lightly dissed their teams (sorry Becca! That’s probably salt in a wound right now. I expect when Ylesia and Bakura next play that there will be no mercy shown by the Lightning.)
  2. Jedi Gunny Yahtzee Host

    Game Host
    Member Since:
    May 20, 2008
    star 8
    IC: Gark S’rily
    Somewhere on Coruscant

    Gark stared out the front window as he drove his speeder along the derelict lane. He had no idea what had compelled him to come to this part of the planet; it made no logical sense. This was one of the lower-income neighborhoods in the area, a place where a high school diploma would be a pinnacle of education. The schools were severely underfunded, the buildings were run down, and the streets were tougher than they should be. It was a real wreck of a place, and thus most well-to-do people on Coruscant never heeded it any mind. Out of sight, out of mind, they said.

    It had been two days since the tough loss to the Bakura Miners. Losing to a rival, at home, no less, was always difficult to swallow, especially when it handicapped the Senators moving forwards. Once again, they had lost the tiebreaker to Bakura. It hadn’t cost them last season, as the Senators had won in the playoff meeting, but losing to anyone in the day and age of conferences was not a good sign if you wanted to make the playoffs. In other news, Me’lin had finally been discharged from the hospital, and Galin had been taken home for the first time. He seemed like an awfully quiet kid thus far, but since he was only a week or so old, Gark wasn’t going to hedge any bets on how loud Galin might get as he grew older. However, on the bright side, it felt good to not have to stay at the hospital overnight; although it had only been a week, Gark had gotten mighty sick of those surroundings. Also, when he crawled into bed at night, it was nice to have another warm body in there with him; he had felt so alone when his wife was in the hospital and he was sleeping at home. As for now, that was a little harder to explain. For some odd reason, Gark had left the house and gone for a ride in his speeder, not sure why he had gone in the first place.

    One building stood out to Gark as he drove up to it. The old sign, greatly weathered by time and sun exposure, stood hanging limply from its post. Some of the letters had fallen off, while others were crooked and poked full of holes. Some ancient graffiti gave the sign a sinister appearance, one that echoed the sentiments of the condition of living in these parts. There was something . . . familiar . . . about this place.

    Gark parked his speeder on the curb and got out. There weren’t many people out at this time of the morning – Gark was glad, because that typically meant the toughs wouldn’t be roaming around. He could easily take care of them if they decided to pick a fight, but he didn’t want to bring attention to himself. He wasn’t here to beat up the neighborhood bullies; that was the last thing on his mind. As he approached the building, he reached a hand out and touched its peeling paint. Some paint chips decided to spring loose from the siding and coat his hand, along with copious amounts of dust. But he didn’t care. Things were coming back to him . . . fragments of memory . . . random thoughts . . . they flooded in, one by one.

    Looking down, Gark almost could see his younger self, about age seven, standing in front of this very building, waiting to get a ride home at night. He had never liked it out there at night; the bullies decided that it would be the best time to come and try to take your lunch money or steal your favorite toy. That one time when his beloved toy X-Wing had been taken forcefully from him by a few of the bullies, and then they taunted him endlessly as he begged for it back. How he had spent the next week completely depressed about losing his favorite plaything. Actually, he had never gotten over that . . . but it had made him more willing to never lose like that again. It had strengthened his resolve, at least somewhat . . . He had once lived in this part of town; his parents didn’t have much money, so they worked as hard as they could to support their family. So he and his sister had been dropped off here at the youth club every day after school to keep them out of harm’s way until they were able to go home at night.

    “What are you doing?” came a voice, snapping Gark out of his stupor. He looked down at a small Chiss girl, who stared back up at him with her large red eyes. She was wearing a dusty pair of blue overalls and a white shirt, and Gark estimated that she was about seven or eight years old.

    “Uh . . .” Gark said, taking his hand off the siding of the building. “Nothing much. Why do you ask?”

    “Dunno,” the girl said, shrugging. “Just curious, mister. It’s about all I can be now.”

    “What are you talking about?” Gark asked. “Don’t you have somewhere to be instead of hanging around here?”

    “No, not really,” the girl replied sullenly.

    “This place looks abandoned,” Gark commented. “Has it closed?”

    “Yeah, about a year back,” the girl said. Gark was shocked by this; the youth club that had helped keep him off the streets had closed its doors? “They told us that it was going to close, and then a week later . . . BOOM!, padlock on the door and no one inside.”

    “That’s outrageous!” Gark exclaimed. “How could they let something like this close?”

    “My parents don’t tell me,” the girl said. “But I listen in on them when they think I’m asleep. They think it’s the government. They just ignore people like us down here. While they live in their penthouses in some highrise and argue about celebrities, kids like me just get pushed along. I haven’t had a safe place to go since the club closed down . . . there aren’t that many secure places to go, especially when the thugs go around every so often. I’ve already been beaten up twice in the last week, so I show up to school and they put me in detention for not looking ‘clean and proper’. I was just suspended yesterday because I tried to bite another kid who was tormenting me in class. He’s a real jerk, and he deserved what was coming to him. My parents get called in every now and then, and they get so disappointed in me. But I keep telling them that the Club being closed is the reason I’m so trouble-prone . . . they usually believe me, but then just shake their heads and say that I have to deal with it. That Club was everything to me.” She sat down on the curb, head down.

    Gark sat down next to her. He was just wearing a t-shirt and athletic pants, so he wasn’t worried about getting his attire dirty. “I know a little of what that’s like,” he said.

    “How would you know?” the girl asked. “You drive a fancy rig like that, and you don’t look like crap. You probably grew up in some nice suburb on the outskirts, not here in the city.”

    “I came to this Club when I was your age, back when I lived in this neighborhood,” Gark said, a serious tone to his voice.

    “Really?” the girl asked.

    “Yeah,” Gark replied. “It was my safe place too, when my parents were still at work. It’s really all I had back then, because school work was tedious. But they kept me upright, and I kept at it. I never really got to thank the staff back then for helping me through the hard times. It’s just crazy to know that it’s closed down now. They try to keep kids off the street . . . and it’s just pushing them further down that path. I can’t believe that they would do that.”

    “It’s fine,” the girl said. “I just get by.”

    “You shouldn’t have to ‘get by’,” Gark said. “Everyone deserves a place to go when they need help. I had it when I was young . . . you deserve it too.”

    “Well, unless you have a load of money to throw around, that won’t do any of us any good,” the girl said. “All we hear are broken promises . . . ‘we’ll help you’ this, ‘the neighborhood will never be better’ that . . . all we get are some thug violence and beer bottles strewn around the streets. No one cares about us. It’s not like I don’t appreciate you, mister . . . but what can you do that’s different from the policymakers who care more about their multimillion credit abodes than the people who they should be representing?”

    “Because I’ve been here,” Gark said. “I know what it’s like growing up on the wrong side of the tracks. I wasn’t the best student in class . . . but the Club helped me succeed. I got through high school and then college on the skills they gave me. I owe them everything . . . including some money to reopen.”

    “Gee, sounds awful nice,” the girl said. “Is there a good life after high school? What’s college like?”

    “It’s a lot of hard work . . . but it’s worth it,” Gark replied. “I got a job out of it, and I couldn’t be better off in my mind.”

    “What do you do?” the girl asked.

    “Accounting, mostly,” Gark said. OK, he had partially fibbed here. He hadn’t worked as an accountant or clerk in years. But that’s what he had gone to school for, so he could easily crunch numbers. And the numbers crunched that he should help out this neighborhood. The little girl deserved more than this.

    “Does that include math?” the girl asked. “I hate math. It doesn’t make sense.”

    “A little bit,” Gark said. “Mostly just knowing the headers for long lists of numbers, and keeping track of all company receipts. Not too difficult what I do . . . but, then again, I had to spend years perfecting it.”

    “I’m terrible at math,” the little girl said. “I don’t understand it. Who needs it, anyways?”

    “A lot of things require math,” Gark replied. “Even sports statistics require math.”

    “I like sports,” the girl said, cheering up some as she said this. “You ever hear of Limmie?”

    “I’ve heard of it,” Gark said in an offhand manner. He wasn’t about to mention his extremely deep knowledge of Limmie at this juncture, including his spot as GM of one of the oldest franchises in Limmie history.

    “It’s a great game; we used to play it all the time out on the back field,” the girl said, sticking her thumb out in the direction of the Club’s abandoned playground. “I was the best player on the field; the other kids couldn’t stop me. I scored so many goals that some of the other kids threatened to stop playing.”

    “So you like to score points?” Gark asked. He found this oddly amusing, just talking to a girl who had apparently nothing better to talk about than sports. Of course, it didn’t look like she had anything else to look up to in this part of town, so he supposed that Limmie was her out.

    “Yeah. There’s nothing better than scoring a goal. Of course, hitting people is also fun . . .”

    “So you play forward?” Gark asked casually.

    “Sometimes. But I really like playing midfield. I get to score points, and also play defense and hit people. It’s really fun to always be in the middle of the action.”

    “You play in any organized leagues?” Gark asked.

    “Not yet,” the girl said. “But I’ve convinced my parents to sign me up for Youth Limmie next year, when I’m finally old enough to join the school district program. They think it’ll give me structure for my life, so they agreed. But I just want to get better. My dream’s to play professional Limmie, you know.”

    “That’s quite a lofty dream,” Gark commented. “You’re going to have to work really hard to get there.”

    “I’ll get there. If I work like my idol, I’ll be the best midfielder anyone’s ever seen. They’ll be talking about me winning the Ingbrand, and then when I win four Salbukks in a row to set an all-time record. I even have my Hall of Fame speech ready . . .” She laughed when she said this, and then quieted down a little. “I know it’s a long shot, but I don’t want to be around here the rest of my life. I want to get out of here, play Limmie if I can, get a job, buy a house and a speeder . . . you know, just live life the way I’ve always wanted.”

    “Who is your idol?” Gark asked.

    “Alysha Romax,” the girl said. “She’s the best midfielder in the whole galaxy. I want to grow up and be just like her.”

    “I take it that she’s a great player?” Gark asked. Once again, he was just trying to distance himself from his background, mostly because he didn’t want to give off his identity. When the little girl gave him an odd look, he said: “I don’t know much about the sport. I’ve just seen a few games here and there, but I don’t pay attention to detail.”

    “I think you should,” the girl said. “It’s a lot of fun to watch. I’d watch more if I could, but sometimes the games are past my bedtime. Anyways, Alysha’s my role model. I’ve got her poster on my bedroom wall, and I desperately wish I had her jersey to wear at school. But the big kids would probably beat me up if I wore one, so maybe it’s better I don’t have it.”

    This tugged at Gark a little bit. He could easily fill this request, since Alysha was not just one of his most dependable players on the squad, but oddly enough, she had even been a bridesmaid at his wedding many months earlier. He was sure she wouldn’t mind autographing a jersey for a fan, but then he assumed that the little girl was right. If she couldn’t defend herself against bullies picking on her, then having a jersey like that would just make her more of a target.

    “You might want to sign up for martial arts, then,” Gark said. “I did when I was your age, and I learned a few things about self-defense.”

    “So I can beat up the bullies?” the little girl said eagerly.

    “Well . . . no, not really,” Gark replied quickly. “What I mean is . . . you only use it for self-defense. I learned from the wise woman who taught me that it’s easy to use your skills to be aggressive and attack someone, but it’s hard to really understand how to fight that way because you’re motivated by anger and rage. Besides, pressing the attack only makes it worse for you; if you defend yourself, you have the high ground because you have more options. And if you rely on rage, then you don’t get anywhere except jail. I think you have the capability to get out of here, but you have to want it and work for it,” he said, sticking his finger gently into the girl’s arm to get his point across. “If you want to be like me, you need to apply your skills to the best of your ability; don’t waste them in a blind rage. That only leads to trouble.”

    “I guess you’re right,” the girl said. “But I’ll do that. Thanks, mister.”

    “No problem,” Gark replied.

    “Maybe that’d get me in better shape for Limmie,” the girl said, shrugging. “I guess it can’t hurt, especially if I can cause the big kids to respect me.”

    Gark looked at his datapad; he had to get going. “I need to be off,” he said. He stood up, and the little girl did as well. “But I’ll be back,” he said.

    “Great,” the girl said, but Gark could tell that she was only saying this halfheartedly. “It’s not like I don’t appreciate the support . . . but I doubt there’ll ever be enough money to put aside to keep this place open.”

    “You never know,” Gark said, opening his speeder door. “Perhaps it’ll catch on.”

    “Yeah, like that’ll ever happen,” the girl said. “But, thanks anyways, mister. It was nice talking to you.”

    “Likewise,” Gark said as he got into his speeder. As he drove away, he watched the little girl in his rearview mirror, staring down his speeder as it disappeared down the lane and out of sight. He still couldn’t believe that the Youth club had been shut down; that wasn’t right. He was going to get to the bottom of this, even if it took a few days. The little girl had had a profound influence on him; she reminded him so much of himself at that age. Unsure of where to go in life, and feeling that everything was conspiring against him. But he had found his calling in accounting, and it had gotten him to where he was now. If she followed her dreams, then she wouldn’t have any regrets . . . or, at least in theory. He had been lucky in getting out of the slum, but most kids he had known probably hadn’t been nearly as fortunate. The kids, like the little girl, deserved more, and Gark was intent on giving them hope. He couldn’t float them all through college, because he wanted them to work for success, but he would give them a safe place to hang out after school. Everything started with a dream; he was interested in seeing this carried out.

    TAG: No One
    Trieste and jcgoble3 like this.
  3. CPL_Macja Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Nov 29, 2008
    star 5
    IC: Jhym Ro’meo
    The Jhym Ro’meo Show, CHS Sport net

    The principle content of Ro’meo’s show was his own takes on topical issues in sports around the galaxy, but primarily on Limmie, Elite Limmie in particular. As with each show, Jhym opens with a monologue consisting of abbreviated takes on the topics he plans to elaborate on later in his show. So as the theme music for his program comes to a close he starts off with his first take.

    Hello sports fans, this is Jhym Ro’meo. We’ve got a lot on tap so let’s start off with everyone’s favorite sport right now, Limmie. Now as most of you know, I am a huge fan of the Premier League, even though I primarily report on the Elite League, the PLL holds a special place in my heart. But for some strange reason they have been completely tight lipped since the death of Commissioner K’ntarr.

    Some have speculated that this is possibly the end for the PLL now that all the Elite squads have pulled their development teams out and formed the Limmie Futures League. However, the PLL is no stranger to adversity, they have formed and reformed themselves several times in the almost century they have been operating. For those of you who are unaware, here is a brief history lesson. The PLL was established in 175 ABY and was originally named the Imperial-Alliance Limmie Federation and changed its name in 177. The I-ALF was a merger of Galactic Alliance League Limmie, established in 165, and Imperial League Limmie, established in 168, when both Leagues were struggling to compete against the ELL for fans.

    What we do know about the PLL is that Agado is once again Commissioner and the teams that had been part of the GCLA are now back in the fold. What we don’t know is if they have expanded at all or lost more teams, or even what the structure of those teams is. But what I think we can assume is that they are hurting for credits seeing as Karmich Industries, the principle ownership group of the Balmorra Blasters, has announced they will be going public at the end of the week on the Galactic Stock Exchange.

    In other news it seems like Byblos is going to be starting at least two if not three major sports teams in the near future. The Adrimars, a family that is prominent in Byblos politics and government, have begun construction on an indoor, multi-sports arena. They have previously announced that they will be starting a grav-ball team named the Byblos Towers and a smashball team named the Byblos Blitz, both will play at the yet to be named arena. Rumor has it that the arena is also being fitted with a limmie pitch as well. Now whether or not this field is for a yet unannounced new team for one of the limmie leagues or is going to house a relocated team is yet to be seen.

    Now, an undisclosed source close to the Monarchs organization has told me that the K’ntarr Sports Entertainment Group has had several meetings with the Adrimars. Supposedly the subject of these discussions is the process it takes to start up a sports franchise on Byblos. Some speculate that this is just casual conversation between two politically influential families that both own stakes in professional sports organizations. Only time will tell what the truth is.

    Speaking of the Monarchs, as most everyone knows, there is no love lost between Setarcos Rhemes and myself, but I have to give him some credit. If you missed it, after last week’s victory against the Vandelhelm Jets Mr. Rhemes put his proverbial credits where his mouth was and wagered an old Diplomat’s blaster against Aay’han Vhett’s WESTAR. So to him I tip my hat, even if he was insane enough to wager against a bunch of Mandalorians. Of course Vhett is yet to respond so perhaps Rhemes should have addressed the wager to Taab, maybe he would have been man enough to respond.

    Now let’s go to our open lines…


    IC: Setarcos Rhemes
    Mercs-Monarchs Match, The Grande Villa

    Irony, absolute and total irony Setarcos thought to himself. The last two weeks he had been gloating that their team was built upon a youthful defense, and this week the Mercs exploited that youthfulness as a weakness. The Mercs offense struck hard and early, it took everything within Mara’s abilities to keep the game even respectable. The Mercs put so many shots on goal that even with her eighty percent goal-to-save ratio they were still able to put up 33 points against them. It took until the twenty-fifth minute in the first half before the Monarchs had the bolo in their offensive zone. But even then Mij Katan put up a descent showing. Of course the one goal the Monarchs did score was on a header from Vesper Lynd, early in the first half.

    But even the veterans made mistakes. With under five minutes left in the first half, the Monarchs were on the offensive once more. As they moved the bolo forward down the field play it ends up down in to the corner of the field where it gets intercepted by the Mercs Right Half Back, Jett Hanson. As he turns to toss the ball out of the defensive end of the field, Laura Cynd-Nazug saw the opportunity to break up the play. She rushed straight for Hanson, impacting with him just as he passed the ball up to Argo Mor’kesh. As soon as she hit him, the Merc bench erupted with shouts of “HEADSHOT!” and the Mercs fans in the crowd showered the field with boos. Play was then whistled dead and the officials gathered to confer over whether or not the hit was legal. Within less than a minute they had come to a decision.

    Laura Cynd-Nazug intentionally left her feet in order to drive her shoulder into the opposing players head. She is therefore being penalized for charging and receiving a game misconduct penalty. She is therefore ejected from the game and Monarchs will play with one less forward for the duration of the game. Mando’ade will be given a penalty shot that shall be taken by Aara’or in Jett Hanson’s stead.

    The Final buzzer called out mercifully bringing to a close the killing the Mercs had just put on the Monarchs. Setarcos slowly made his way to midfield where he carried out the traditional handshake with Adenn Vizsla. This time as he grabbed the other man’s forearm with his right hand, he laid the back of his left hand over top. In it was the holstered ELG-3A blaster pistol. He looked down at the weapon and waited for Adenn to look down at it as well. “Make sure Aay’han gets that. Tell her that even though she did not formally accept the wager, I am still a man of my word. Just remind her though I will be looking to get it back next season when we meet at Mesh’la Vhetin

    Once he exited the field, Setarcos made his way to his office where he immediately started reviewing footage from the game. His daughter’s penalty receiving hit and the teams overall play was of particular interest to him. He always did this prior to going into his post game press conference. It gave the press more time to get settled and allowed him to refresh his mind on specific match changing plays and the overall game. As he got to the podium he started things off right away.

    I didn’t like our game, that’s just from my point of view, the way we played and the way we looked, I didn’t think we looked like that, I thought we didn’t execute coming out of our own zone,” Setarcos said. “I thought we were spread out as a group, didn’t play the way we’ve been playing the last couple of games, played more like we did last year.

    “Was that nerves, was it the fact we ‘wore’ our players out on the stretch a little bit and we weren’t as fresh as we should be, is it because we exhaled after getting past the Jets and weren’t as intense? I don’t know the answer, the bottom line is we weren’t as good and we’re going to be better next week against the Miners.

    “The Mercs played hard, they spent more time in our zone than vice versa on offense.


    Was goalie Mij Katan their key on defense?” Ro’meo asked without being called upon.

    More fans have told me, or people I’ve talked to since joining the Mercs, how good Katan was, I didn’t see that,” Setarcos said. “[color=#4169ffWhat I saw was, I know how our team is supposed to look when we play the way we’re supposed to play. And it didn’t look like that. That’s the feeling I had during the game, after I watched the video, like I said, without emotion, we can be way better and when we’re better we’ll be harder on their ‘D’ and harder on their goal tender — We weren’t hard enough.[/color]”

    Ro’meo pressed on, “Will you change anything in the line-up?

    You’ll have to watch the match on HSN to find that out. But what I’m going to change is my shirt because it probably stinks,” he said with a smile.

    So what is your take on Laura’s hit in the first? You think the league will suspend her and should hits like that be closely examined by the league to ensure that contact to the head is greatly deterred?

    I watched the hit again and, holy mackerel, I don’t know what they’re going to be suspended for,'' Setarcos said. “You turn the video and pretend that there was contact to the head, maybe you can find something. But she was flying, goes through the guy, I don’t know.

    “None. None. I think it was shoulder to shoulder, bent knees going into a guy and exploding through him,
    ” Setarcos said. “Should be guy saw you coming, braced in time. I think if you turn the video and you look at it from this angle coming in and you don’t see what is actually happening you can think that it was a head shot, but I don’t see that at all.

    “But, if I’m coaching the Mercs I can find a way to see it different, or playing for them. I know we have to protect the athletes, but I also know it’s a physical game. I thought it was pretty good contact.


    Your team was not able to force turnovers, while, at the same time they weren’t able to cause them either, kinda like the Onderon match last season. Do you feel that this had something to do with your loss?

    What are you talking about? … Holy mackerel, you want to talk three or four years ago?” Setarchs said. “We’re in the Elite League, I don’t even remember this stuff. I’m a coach, my memory is short. We’re playing the Miners next week, we’re moving on, you have to, too, have a great day,” Setarcos said, abruptly ending the press conference and walking out of the room.

    TAG: @Bardan_Jusik (for match stuff) @Trieste (for League stuff)
    jcgoble3 and Trieste like this.
  4. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 5
    IC: Ayn Dormingale
    En route to Prytis, Bakura



    If Ayn Dormingale wasn't an earner, there was no way that the Belden Group would tolerate all of this time off. The truth was that she worked her tail off when she wasn't at the Miners games. She did whatever it took to sell, to wine and dine her clients, to find the right space for them, to get the signature on the dotted line. Say what you would about Ayn Dormingale, but you had to admit she was driven. She worked hard to play hard--and she was making a hard play for Declan.

    She'd taken an extra two days off in advance of this week's Miners game in Salis D'aar to go to Prytis. For hundreds of years the forests of Prytis had been where the elites of Bakuran society had settled and the Noble House was no exception. Everyone knew that when Fionn Dunross Trieste had donated the overwhelming majority of the Noble House's efforts to the reconstruction of Bakura, among his land holdings he had retained only the lands of Kilmainham Brook, the old family home. There were rumors that Fionn Trieste had personally overseen the reconstruction of the natural terrain and foliage on Kilmainham Brook he was so devoted to his old family home. Few outside the family were invited to Kilmainham Brook. For Ayn to merit an invitation was a very big deal.

    Ayn had decided to take the high speed monorail from Cape Suzette to Prytis. It would have been quicker to take an intraplanetary shuttle, but there was a romance to a trip by monorail that Ayn had always appreciated. When she had gone home from UBSD she'd always taken the monorail to Cape Suzette. Prytis was on the route so she had gone through the stop many times before. The reason that Prytis had become the residence of choice for so many wealthy Bakurans was its proximity to the capital. However, it didn't feel anywhere close to Salis D'aar. The reason was that the city of Prytis had historically maintained a green belt of development free zoning all around the city to prevent urban sprawl from encroaching on the retreats of its denizens.

    Declan had told Ayn back at UBSD that his grandfather Fionn had decided to raise his children at Kilmainham, not in Salis D'aar. Even when he was Prime Minister, he'd insisted that they live in Prytis. He had commuted daily from Marian Square to Kilmainham Brook unless pressing business required him to sleep over at the State Apartments attached to the Executive Mansion. Kerry and her sisters had grown up at Kilmainham Brook and gone to the exclusive Prytis Unified School District, which boasted nearly universal university acceptance for its graduating students.

    Thanks to the zoning laws of the city, it was hard for someone to gain access to the exclusive world of Prytis. Ayn's own grandmother, prominent politician that she was, never even tried. It took the sale of an estate for new blood to get entry into Prtyis--and that didn't mean that the arrivistes would be accepted by their new neighbors.
    The only other way in was marriage. It was something that Ayn thought about quite a bit as she watched the mountains and plains of Bakura whiz by.



    Kilmainham Brook, Prytis, Bakura

    After Ayn had arrived at Kilmainham Brook (courtesy of private car that the Noble House had generously sent to the monorail station to ferry her to the Great House, as they called it), she joined the Noble House for lunch. Everyone was there--even people that Ayn had not seen in some time. Nessarose had torn herself from Patriot limmie to bring both her kids to Kilmainham. Oisin and his youngest daughter May were present. Ayn had met May before, though she hadn't talked much to the teenager. It didn't have to do with the extensive scars on her face, but the fact that May Trieste didn't seem interested in talking to anyone, including most of her family.

    When lunch was completed, everyone broke to change. Ayn had been specifically told to bring clothes suitable for athletic activity that she wasn't "horribly attached to", in the words of Declan. She was wondering just how friendly the Noble House family game of limmie was. Declan had clued Ayn in that an old UBSD t-shirt would do her fine. Ayn had selected a not-too worn gold shirt with the roaring bear logo on it.

    [IMG]

    A pair of dark blue athletic shorts (just because they were going to play limmie didn't mean she couldn't show off her legs for Declan) and a pair of high white socks with her sneakers. If she had to put a term to her attire, she'd call it athletic chic. Ayn knew that what was more important than how she dressed was how she played today. The Triestes were competitive enough about the Miners--Force help Ayn when it came to actually playing against them.

    Ayn wandered from the bedroom that she'd been given for the day and night until they all went to Salis D'aar downstairs. It seemed she'd gotten changed quicker than her hosts because there didn't seem to be anyone around, certainly not in the large family room with its imposing portraits of Taoiseachs past. She looked at each of them as they hung on the wall. It was an anachronistic tradition that the Triestes went in for, these oil paintings. But she knew why they did it--it reeked of credits and lots of them. She could tell it at a glance. Anyone who came to Kilmainham Brook experienced the eyes of Amergin Trieste, Lennon Trieste, Saraid Trieste, Niall Dunross Trieste, and all the others pierce them through and through. They looked at Ayn and each of them seemed to ask what right she had to be here, to aspire to be one of them.

    Ayn Dormingale looked back at them defiantly. She knew she belonged here whether they liked it or not.

    Ayn wandered about the ground floor, still alone, and stumbled across a half open, thick wood door. She was drawn inside by some force unknown, or perhaps just curiosity. It was a spacious, well appointed study, dominated by a heavy wood desk, the walls lined with bookshelves. The carpet in here was richer, thicker than in the rest of the estate.

    "This is the Taoiseach's study."

    Ayn turned to find the Chancellor standing behind her. It was a jarring experience, not because she'd gotten caught peering into Kerry Trieste's private office but because the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic was standing in front of her in a faded blue UBSD t-shirt and sneakers. She actually looked like a regular being for a change, devoid of makeup and not dressed impeccably.

    "It's very nice," Ayn said.

    "Come in. My own family rarely does so you might as well," Kerry said walking in.

    "Really?" Ayn asked with some surprise.

    "I grew up and this was my father's study. When he wasn't Prime Minister, this is where he did business. It was his room. You didn't come in if you weren't asked. It's something that I think we've all passed down to our kids," Kerry said, "It's why I put his portrait above the mantle." She nodded to the painting of Fionn Dunross Trieste in the room, depicting him in younger days, somewhere about the time that he would have been Prime Minister perhaps, maybe a some years earlier. "I'll put the first Fionn Trieste's portrait up there once I recover it."

    "What do you mean recover it?" Ayn asked, suddenly interested. This was not trying to curry favor with the Chancellor. This was truly odd.

    "Didn't Declan tell you?" Kerry said. When Ayn shook her head no, Kerry motioned for Ayn to take a seat in one of the plush chairs in the room. The Chancellor leaned casually on the surface of the dark wood desk. "When the Sith took Bakura, they sacked Kilmainham Brook. Razed it to the ground. However, there were reports that the officers in charge took the Taoiseach portraits. Trophies of war or something like that. Well, it turns out it was true. We've found almost all of them over the years--some in government seizures, other I've discreetly purchased through the black market through intermediaries.

    "Except Fionn Trieste, the founder of the House," Kerry said, "His portrait is still out there. I know it still exists. If they left portraits of lesser beings like Lennon, my grandfather, then someone is sitting on Fionn's. And when I get it back, I'll hang it here, in the Taoiseach's study." She paused. "You know, I told you that I don't own the Miners, the House does. I still remember the night that I became Taoiseach, when I became owner of the Miners."

    "What was it like?"



    252 ABY

    Kerry Trieste’s shuttle touched down outside of Kilmainham Brook. It was the end of the night on this part of the planet and it had been a long day for Kerry. She entered the house, the one in which she had spent a large part of her childhood. For some reason Kerry paused in the doorframe and ran her hand along the fine woodwork. It was the sort of thing you only found in a country house like this—or very well furnished city apartments that cost a fair credit.

    The house was quiet, which was no surprise considering the hour. From the foyer, Kerry walked into the family room, the only room she could see that had a light on. The room was empty. Kerry walked softly around, wondering where her father was. She had been summoned here in no uncertain terms. In fact, she had been told that, "Your Taoiseach requires you." Never before had Fionn Trieste commanded his daughter to appear in such terms. It made Kerry wonder what tonight was about. After all, she had just secured the nomination of her party for Prime Minister less than a standard day ago. If her father, who had experienced that night of jubilation himself once upon a time, had called her away from that, it must be something big. And a Trieste never ignored the summons of her Taoiseach.

    “Kerry.”
    [IMG]

    Senator Trieste turned around and found her father in the half dark doorway to the family room. “Come with me,” Fionn Trieste said, motioning for Kerry to follow him.

    He led Kerry to his study, its wood panels rich and deep. For Kerry’s entire life this room had unquestionably been her father’s. It symbolized everything about him she’d idolized and tried to emulate.

    Fionn locked the door—something that he rarely did, even for the most private of conversations. He did not offer a chair to his daughter, but simply walked around to the other side of his desk and unlocked a drawer with a hand reader. He gently took a weathered book out from the drawer.

    “I don’t believe you’ve ever seen this,” Fionn said. It was more of a statement and less of a question.

    “No, I haven’t…” Kerry said. Fionn held the book with one hand and extended it towards Kerry. It was not for her to take. She brushed its heavy, worn cover.

    “This is the family Fulcrum,” Fionn said. The Trieste family had never been devout followers of the Religion of Cosmic Balance, but every old House in Bakura had a treasured family Fulcrum. This one was usually kept in the Trieste vault on Empress Teta. Fionn held it cover up with one hand towards his daughter. “Put your right hand on it.”

    Kerry did so.

    “No Trieste has ever been the Fiaana Fail nominee for Prime Minister and not been Taoiseach of the Noble House. I will not see that tradition broken,” Fionn said. Kerry’s heart missed a beat. “Do you, Kerry Wyvern Trieste, swear before your Creator in the presence of Fionn Dunross Trieste, eighth Taoiseach of the Noble House, to guide the Noble House of Trieste faithfully, to uphold its interests above all else, to further bind the Noble House to Bakura and her interests, to assume all debts and obligations outstanding upon the Noble House, to keep—”

    “All debts and obligations,” Kerry interrupted. It was a question.

    All debts and obligations,” Fionn confirmed.

    “Are there any I should know about?”

    “Not unless you swear,” Fionn said, “That’s the way it is.”

    Kerry paused and then nodded.

    “To keep the Triestes as the first house, the Noble House, of Bakura, and to commit any deed necessary to vanquish and destroy any and all enemies of the Noble House of Trieste?” Fionn finished.

    “I do so swear before my Creator,” Kerry said.

    Fionn set the book down on the desk and opened the cover. On the inside cover were a list of eight signatures. Fionn motioned for Kerry to come to the desk. She did and looked at the list. Each was the signature, in ink, of a Taoiseach of the Noble House, dated.

    Niall Trieste, 5 ABY
    Fionn Cormac Trieste, 38
    Amergin Trieste, 70
    Saraid Trieste, 105
    Niall Dunross Trieste, 110
    Nevan Trieste, 142
    Lennon Trieste, 175
    Fionn Dunross Trieste, 208

    The man who had made the last signature extended an ink pen to his daughter and successor. In the flowing handwriting that could only be a woman’s (and very distinct from the utilitarian signature of Saraid Trieste), Kerry signed her full name, Kerry Wyvern Trieste, 252.

    Fionn closed the book and extended his hand to his daughter. “Congratulations, Taoiseach.”

    And with that, Kerry Trieste assumed control of the familial property of the Noble House of Trieste, to be managed for the benefit of all its members. That included 49% of the Bakura Miners.



    "It was a private moment," was all Kerry Trieste told Ayn. That night, over 20 years ago, was a moment that only two Taoiseachs could share. Kerry simply laid out the generalities of the situation. “Because I was running for Prime Minister, my father decided that I should be Taoiseach. So right in the middle of the season, I inherited all the Noble House property, which included the Miners."

    "Dad sent me to tell you that we're ready," May Trieste said, popping her head into the study.

    Kerry stood and Ayn followed suit. "Good."

    The Noble House had gathered outside, everyone dressed casually for a game. Though Prytis was woody, Kilmainham Brook's windows looked out over a rolling meadow, one that was flat enough for a game of limmie. Two goals with modest uprights were set up on the meadow, though they were smaller than a regulation goal and closer together. However, they weren't playing for the Galactic Cup.

    What surprised Ayn was the fact that they had enlisted a referee for today's game--and it was Alana Glencross, who had borrowed a white and black vertical striped shirt for the day.

    "After last week's game, you have no idea how much I'm enjoying wearing this," Alana was saying with a huge grin to Regan Trieste, who was in her Tiarest t-shirt in appropriate burgundy.

    It seemed college t-shirts was the order of the day. Nessa was in her Chandrila A&M Rovers shirt, Oisin his brown PCNS shirt, Ronan representing Evenvale, Mandy in a Corulag University of Economics (she hadn't actually gone there, but it was where she'd met Ronan when he was pursuing his MBA) t-shirt, Siona in a UBSD shirt. Fiona was wearing her Fleet Academy Ensign t-shirt, but Ayn wasn't focusing on that. She was looking at Fiona's cybernetic leg. She knew that Admiral Westenra had lost her left leg below the knee in a starfighter crash during the G'rho War, but she was always wore long pants whenever Ayn saw her. Though the others in the Noble House had probably seen it, Ayn had to work not to stare at it.

    "All right ref, shall we remind everyone of the rules?" Kerry called out.

    "Rules? What? I'm just doing whatever you want," Alana said, "You sign my paycheck."

    "I like those rules," Kerry said with a smile, "But I'll throw a few more in. As usual, Fiona and I on separate teams. We can't have our Bak10 prowess on the same team. Falene and--" Kerry looked around. "Siona, I told you that I wanted to see all your children here."

    "They are," came a voice coming out of the Great House.

    Ayn turned to see a surprisingly similar figure. She was wearing a Rydonni Prime Monarchs t-shirt. But why did she look familiar? Everything clicked into place. She looked like the portrait of Jane Wyvern that hung in the large family room. She had to be a Trieste, but Ayn didn't know her.

    "Vesper, good to see you," Kerry said with a smile, "I thought this week would be convenient for the family game since Rydonni Prime was already going to be here."

    "Rhemes wasn't happy about letting me off for the day. I suggest you send him a fruit bouquet or some chocolate," Vesper said lightly.

    "Declan, why is everybody talking to Rydonni Prime?" Ayn whispered.

    "Don't you know? Cousin Vesper got drafted by the Monarchs in 272. She's Siona's eldest child and played at UBCS," Declan said.

    "Why is she playing for Rydonni Prime?" Ayn asked, "Wouldn't she play for the Miners."

    "Yeah...Quinn Cundertol didn't think she was any good and Mom didn't insist," Declan said, "It's kind of a touchy point. It didn't help she's always been kind of the black bantha of the family."

    Ayn looked back at Lynd. No wonder she walked in here wearing Rydonni Prime duds in a sea of Miner fans.

    "To keep things fair, we'll split Falene and Vesper too," Kerry said, "Ref, you have that credit chip?"

    "I do," Alana said, coming over to Fiona and Kerry, "Which one of you gets to call."

    "She does," Kerry said as Fiona simultaneously said, "I do."

    "Well that settles that," Alana said, "Your call?"

    "Tails," Fiona said.

    "Tails what?" Alana asked.

    "Tails I get Vesper," Fiona said.

    "Tails for my fellow Blue Bird," Alana said as she flipped the credit chip up in the air before catching it and turning it over onto the back of her hand. "It's tails. Chancellor--"

    "Kerry," she corrected.

    "Can we settle on boss?"

    "Kerry."

    "Kerry, okay," Alana said, giving in, "You get Falene. Colors or no?"

    "We'll go no," Kerry said as her daughter took up position beside her.

    "All right. Everybody else, pull out of the basket. If you get a green sash, join Fiona and Vesper. If you get yellow, you're with the Ch--Kerry and Falene." Alana held the basket above her head so people drew blind.

    Ayn watched as Declan pulled a green piece of fabric. He'd be playing against his mother and sister today. Ayn desperately hoped as she rummaged around in there with her hand that she would be on his team. She wanted to be scoring with him, not playing against him. She grabbed fabric and pulled it out.

    Yellow.

    Well frak.

    Ayn took up position with the Chancellor, Falene, Ginnifer, Nessa, Regan, Atticus, Quentin, Mandy, Ronan, Jane Serena, Enoch, and Oisin. On the other side of the pitch were Fiona, Vesper, Declan, Siona, Dorian, Cillian, Sierra, Elphaba, Alec, Trixie, Antrose, and May. Ayn actually made for an unbalanced 13th player for Kerry's team, but they agreed that they'd be fine.

    "After all, I'm the one with the least experience here," Ayn said.

    "We call that the secret weapon," Regan called out from her half back position behind Ayn.

    There was rhyme and reason to how the teams organized. The front three always had the youngest players anchored by an adult. The "young legs" of Falene and Vesper were put at midfield to tire each other out and make the most of midfield's traditional running. Both sides dropped one half back and one half forward to fit their numbers. Team Yellow added Ginnifer in her baby blue UBGC t-shirt to midfield since they had one extra attacker. Ayn learned later that day that Kerry always played her college position of half forward and Fiona always played half back like she had at the Academy.

    Team Yellow was Mandy at goal; Quentin, Ronan, and Oisin on the corner back line; Atticus and Regan at half back; Falene and Ginnifer at midfield; Ayn and Kerry at half forward; Jane Serena, Enoch, and Nessa on the corner forward line. Team Green was Dorian between the pipes; May, Cillian, Sierra at corner back; Declan and Fiona at half back; Vesper at midfield; Trixie and Elfie at half forwad; Alec, Siona, and Antrose at corner forward.

    "You're all so old over there," Trixie said as they lined up for the start of the game. It was true, Team Green had drawn most of the tenth generation of the Noble House while Team Yellow had most of the ninth.

    "Experienced," her mother corrected, lined up in the opposing position from her daughter.

    "I'm going to score 60 goals on you today," Trixie told her mother.

    "I'm going to teach you some manners," Regan replied.

    "Are they going to talk like that all game?" Ayn asked Declan who was across from her.

    "The only thing faster than the play are our mouths," Declan replied, "I thought you'd be able to keep up."

    "I'm going to do all my talking on the scoreboard," Ayn came back.

    Glencross blew a whistle hanging around her neck by a cord. "All right, just because I don't want to hear it's my fault later when somebody pulls a Laura Cynd and takes somebody's head off--"

    "That's not what happened," Vesper interrupted.

    Alana rolled her eyes and ignored the comment. "It's two hand touch. You stop and have to pass after getting touched. No tackling--not even you two--" she looked at Falene and Vesper, "--or you two--" this was to Kerry and Fiona, "--or anybody. Otherwise, standard rules of limmie apply. Everybody got it? Good. Face off." Alana tossed the ball up in the air for Vesper and Falene to battle for.

    Ayn very quickly figured out that the Triestes did not play with standard rules of limmie. For example, adults let up noticeably on the younger kids, including when it came to scoring opportunities, but they played each other with more effort. Efforts were made to pass the ball around between teammates. It was what Ayn imagined a typical game of family backyard limmie was--even if she wasn't playing with a typical family.

    Of course, like most extended families not everyone was perfectly civil. Vesper was playing her cousin Falene pretty hard and the Ranger captain was not putting up with it. The two were just on the verge of crossing the line into real contact limmie, despite the fact that it wasn't worth getting injured over a casual game of limmie like this. Nobody appeared to care enough to object.

    "Those two going to do this all day?" Ayn asked Declan as they ran up the field.

    "Yeah. They did last year," Declan said.

    Ayn discovered she was not the greatest limmie player. Or even a decent one. Despite what seemed like pretty soft passes from her teammates, the bolo-ball was surprisingly hard when it was coming off someone's foot or hurled through the air. She flubbed most of her passes, which someone from Team Green invariably scooped up and ran with leaving Ayn frustrated. This was not the impression she--

    "Lo--"

    Whump.

    "--ok out."

    Yeah, whoever yelled that did so way too late because Ayn had taken the bolo-ball right in the gut and it hurt. Needless to say, she didn't hold onto the ball, but she did keep her feet, even if she was doubled over from the sudden impact. Before anyone could ask if she was okay, Ayn straightened herself (mostly), and said, "I'm fine," even though she wasn't as she ran as best she could back in the direction of the play.

    Supposedly Alana was keeping score, but Ayn really doubted it since the redhead never made any sort of record of the scoring (which was admittedly pretty frequent--Mandy and Dorian were not the best goalkeepers). She was also pretty sure that the Triestes didn't care. This was more about the competition than it was about winners or losers. Now, you wouldn't have been able to tell from the way that Kerry dug in against Fiona. The two might be over 50, but they didn't appear to be slowing up against each other.

    They weren't going to play a full regulation game--in fact Ayn didn't know exactly how long it was going to go. It seemed to be as long as they felt like going. Not exactly the best for pacing one's self, so Ayn didn't have much choice but to go all out. She'd kick herself if she still had gas in the tank. This was her time to shine, to impress Declan and his family. So she ran out there with everything she had. She might not be very good, but she wasn't going to give up.

    The one thing that she had going for her was that she was playing directly against Declan. Whenever he had the ball, she ran hard after him, motivated by the prize of being able to two hand tag him. Most of the time her own inertia made it into a shove, but that seemed to be pretty much par from the course judging by everyone else's "tags". Declan wasn't being shy either--she received plenty of pushes from him whenever she had the ball.

    Regan punted the ball up field, over the midfielders, and towards Ayn's side of the field. She ran towards the ball, tried to remember to pull her arms in towards her body, keep her eye on the ball, and expect the impact. And for once, she did. She was so surprised that she caught it that she almost forgot that someone was coming for her. She put her feet in motion and headed towards the goal--and felt fingertips brush her back--but only one hand. She was still good as she left her pursuer, likely Declan, behind her. She shifted the bolo-ball from both of her hands to her right hand, she thought she had a pretty good angle on the goal. This looked like her moment.

    And then she spotted the open Enoch Trieste on the far side of the field. That was the right play. She lobbed the ball up the field to the 12 year old boy before Sierra could run her down. Enoch, who clearly had a lot better limmie skills than Ayn, neatly caught the pass and put it past his uncle for a score.

    Team Yellow clapped and Enoch's Aunt Nessa ruffled his hair in celebration. Ayn smiled. It had been the right play. Anyone could be a prima dona and score, but the classy being passed to the little kid and let him score. That assist was worth 10 goals.

    The game ended shortly thereafter and everyone congratulated everyone else in their own ways. Parents kissed their kids who had been on the other team. Sisters hugged. Cousins slapped each other on the back.

    "You might just make the Elite League," Vesper said to Falene, "That is, if you're brave enough to be drafted and see how long you have to sit in the green room. Who knows, the Monarchs might even draft you." It was a very definite challenge.

    "Yeah, but then I'd have to play for the Monarchs," Falene said, "I'm more interested in playing for a championship team."

    "Girls, let's be civil," Ronan said, gently interposing himself between the two, "After all, if you can't be nice now, then you don't get postgame beer."

    "Speaking of which, I don't suppose there's a tip for the ref?" Glencross said.

    "It's called a thank you beer and I'm paying you 3 million a year," Kerry Trieste said.

    "You know I have contract negotiations at the end of this season, right?" Alana said as they trudged towards the Great House, "And I'm coming off of two career years?"

    "Like I could keep you away from my team if I tried," Kerry said.

    "Have fun?" Declan asked Ayn.

    "Loads. You've got a good family," she said.

    "You're only figuring that out now?"

    "No, I just experience it in a new way every time," Ayn said with a smile.

    TAG: @CPL_Macja
    Last edited by Trieste, May 7, 2013
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  5. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 5
    IC: Ayn Dormingale
    Bakura



    The trip from Prytis to Salis D’aar was a jovial one. Kerry let everyone hitch a ride on the Chancellor’s shuttle to the capital. It was more effective than taking the monorail into the city, not to mention faster. With the Miners perched at the top of the Solo Conference, it was an optimistic atmosphere in the shuttle, though not without realism.

    “The Monarchs play us pretty well,” Ronan said, “I don’t think this will be a gimme.”

    “No, and I don’t expect that Vesper’s going to bring much love into the locker room,” Regan said. The Monarch had left shortly after the game to rejoin her team. It had been clear she had no interest in dawdling.

    “Now that she’s gone, would it be impolite of me to ask whether things with her are solely motivated by limmie?” Ayn asked. It was the sort of question an outsider couldn’t ask. How the Noble House collectively reacted to it would be a measure of how well she was becoming integrated into their number. It was a calculated risk on Dormingale’s part.

    “Vesper’s always been…independent,” Siona said of her daughter.

    “I think you mean difficult,” Ginnifer said.

    Siona just gave a bit of an eye roll. “I don’t know what it is. All I know is that most of the time I feel like she was a member of a different family.”

    “To answer your question,” Dorian said, “I think the fact that Cundertol didn’t draft her had some impact on it. To be taken by someone else would be something of a slight.”

    “If she’d wanted to play for us so badly, we could have signed her outside the Draft,” Kerry said, “It’s her own fault.”

    “That’s not the point,” Mandy said, “She shouldn’t have had to do that. You should have drafted her in the first place as she sees it.”

    “Whatever the reason, I think my sister’s going to go out there and pound us as much as she can. And with the way our defense has been, she might do some good damage.”

    That started the entire shuttle griping about the Miners’ porous defense, which lasted all the way to their arrival at the Gardens and continued all the way up to the box. Ayn appreciated, but she always enjoyed the view of Salis D’aar from an air approach. The skyline of the city was quite beautiful. Ayn had always felt that it was a city that had been developed in harmony with the terrain. The two rivers that ran through the city (often called the Twin Rivers), gave the city character beyond most metropolises in the galaxy that were just sprawling urban space. Salis D’aar had always felt like a natural city to her. She loved that Bakura Gardens with its actual gardens and foliage was part of the synthesis of steel, glass, leaf, and petal.

    As the Chancellor’s shuttle, which had landing privileges right next to the stadium by virtue of its chief occupant, came in for final approach. Ayn saw that the vidscreen had a new rotation than in Week 2. This one featured Miners grabbing bolo-balls, wrapping up opposing players to pull them to the ground, and similar actions. It was capped with a picture of Aron Rodders making a one handed catch with a defender right behind him, with the caption, “SEIZE THE DAY.” Ayn liked the approach by the marketing department. Every game was different, every game was a special event. There was no monotony about going to the Miners event. And there was a subtle message underlying the strategy—because you were here, today was important. Your presence mattered.

    The Triestes crowded into lifts for the club concourse. Entering Bakura Gardens with the Noble House was a much different experience for Ayn than walking in herself. She was more one of the crowd, even in the VIP set, at a limmie game. She knew some of the beings in the rarified environs of this exclusive area, but they were few. However, everyone knew the Triestes—specifically the Chancellor, though her siblings were consistently greeted in turn. To be a member of the Noble House was to be known, Ayn realized very completely for the first time. Not every look directed their way was positive—not even Kerry Trieste was universally popular on her homeworld—but everyone still knew who she was.

    “You ever get tired of—” Ayn started to say as they stepped into the box.

    “Chancellor, forgive us for being too early, but we didn’t want to miss anything.”

    [IMG]

    Ayn froze. She knew that voice. She looked up. There was Senator Silas Madsen and his adopted daughter Becca Durst standing in the owner’s box.

    THE Becca Durst.

    What. The. Frak.

    “Think nothing of it, Senator,” Kerry said, shaking Madsen’s hand and then receiving a friendly kiss on the cheek from him, “I hope you made yourself at home while you waited.”

    “We would not be so bold,” the Senator replied, “Chancellor, I believe you know my daughter Becca.”

    “Of course. A pleasure to see you again,” Kerry said, taking Becca’s hand, “When Declan suggested you join us, I was all too pleased at the suggestion.”

    Ayn’s eyes focused into a hawklike stare out of their corners at Declan. He had invited her? When? Her mind worked fast—she was sure that this meant that he must be seeing her in the Telaan Valley periodically. That was the most reasonable explanation. This was not good news.

    Kerry introduced the family around. Some were already familiar with the Senator, like Siona, who had dealt with Madsen during the Bakuran Civil War. Madsen had been a prominent local figure in Blackbranch in Arcterra, the site of disputed high value mineral deposits in the northern polar region of Bakura. He had approached the Federal Union at considerable personal risk with a proposition to safely deserve the city and the nascent mines to the Federal Union if the Bakuran Marines could get there. General Abigail Dualla had marched to Arcterra, fighting off General Shi of the Maple Flag Republic and captured the town without a shot, largely thanks to Madsen’s groundwork.

    In exchange, Madsen had asked a favor of the Noble House in secret, to be redeemed at the end of the Civil War. Kerry, wanting to seize the potential advantage, had agreed. The favor had been her support to clear Madsen’s way onto the Fianna Fail ticket when Arcterra was reintegrated into the Federal Union. It was an odd request at the time, for Arcterra skewed towards the most conservative Union party, not the left-center Fianna Fail. However, Kerry granted it and Madsen won narrowly in the general election.

    Since then he had developed into the leader of the centrist block of Fianna Fail. Holding down what would otherwise be a Union seat endeared him to the party leaders, but it also gave Madsen leverage in the Bakuran Senate. Ayn was well familiar with Madsen by way of her grandmother’s work.

    “Have you met Ayn Dormingale?” Kerry asked, snapping Ayn to attention.

    “I believe I have had the pleasure of meeting Sabé Dormingale’s granddaughter,” Madsen said as he shook hands with Ayn, “She spoke of you often in the Senate.”

    “She was likely too effusive in her praise,” Ayn said.

    “No more than any parent should be for their child,” he said in his deep voice, “Do you know my daughter Becca?”

    “I believe so,” Ayn said. In fact, she was positive that they had at the Trieste’s Yuletide Ball last year. However, she decided she wouldn’t give Durst the satisfaction. She was probably too naïve to even know she was being slighted, which took some of the pleasure out of it for Ayn.

    “And if you’ve forgotten me I’ll be sorely disappointed,” Regan said pleasantly, coming over to give Madsen a kiss.

    “Justice Eldred, one could never forget you. Your pointed opinions from the bench are too withering to ignore,” Silas said.

    “Oh good, then I’m doing my job properly,” Regan said, “The Senate should tremble in fear when I pick up my stylus.”

    “Only when you do so to strike down our carefully crafted laws.”

    “Then allow me to make a peace offering. Have you and your daughter received the behind the scenes tour?” Regan asked.

    “Actually, Becca has never seen a game at the Gardens before,” Madsen said, putting a hand on his daughter’s shoulder.

    “Then I must insist. I think we have two field passes, around here don’t we?” Regan said, “Yes, here we are. You all entertain yourselves, we’ll be back at the end of warm ups.”

    As Regan herded Madsen and Durst out, she gave Ayn a look for just a second. Ayn read it perfectly. I’m removing her for you for a while. Use this time well. And you owe me.

    Ayn knew that a favor rendered by the Noble House would have to be repaid in full one day. But she’d take it right now.

    Dormingale got a drink and thought fast. She’d have to get Declan hooked now. She covertly looked around the box for something…there.

    “Well well, what’s this?” Ayn said as she walked to the wall, “Do I spy a young Declan Trieste?”

    “Oh Maker. That holo,” Declan groaned, but with a smile. It was of the 252 Galactic Cup championship and featured a redhaired Kerry Trieste, her husband Mihal, a very young Declan, and an infant Falene. “I was like four at the time. I think I remember a big shiny thing.”

    “Yeah, I’m sure that’s all you remember,” Ayn said as she continued to look at the holo. In the center was a white haired Fionn Trieste with his eldest daughter holding the Galactic Cup together. “Because the Galactic Cup of Limmie is a very forgettable object, even when you’re four.”

    “Well if you want the story on this one, you’d better go to the source herself,” Declan said, gesturing to his mother, “She always loves telling this story.”

    “You can bet your last red credit I do,” Kerry said from across the box. Declan and Ayn took seats near her. “At the time I was in the middle of a nasty general election, my first for Prime Minister, with Senator Han McKerran, who had beaten the sitting PM for the Union Party’s nomination,” Kerry said. She paused before adding, “Yeorg Shrubb.” Even now the name rolled off her tongue with disdain.

    Ayn needed no explanation. Shrubb had a low position in Bakuran histories even after twenty years. His ill-advised joining with the Republican Fleet in the G’rho War when there was no clear threat to Bakura had mired the Defense Fleet in a messy ground war that had cost a lot of lives. One of Kerry’s first acts after defeating Shrubb had been to arrange a withdrawal from G’rho.

    “252, we barely made the playoffs,” Kerry said, “It was not looking like a very encouraging road to the championship…”



    252 ABY
    The Tank, Mon Calamari

    Something incredible had happened one week ago on Bakura.

    They ran out of beer.

    The entire planet had been so plugged in to the Miners’ Semifinal game against the top-ranked Mon Calamari Mariners at The Tank that they’d drank the planet almost literally dry. Bars and pubs had run out of spirits. It was a shocking development that had caused prices on incoming shipments to skyrocket—and emergency orders to be placed forthwith.

    The Miners’ unexpected and narrow 14-10 victory had resulted in their getting to face the second seeded Chandrila Patriots in the Galactic Cup Final at the very same Tank that they’d just played in. The Patriots, who had defeated their archnemeses the Smugglers in the Semifinal, rolled onto Dac the unquestioned favorites against the 5th seeded Miners.

    It was convenient for the team, but not for Kerry. She was in the middle of the last weeks of her Prime Ministerial election and had been forced to fly out to Dac for the Semifinal, then back for two days of campaigning, then back out to Dac again for the Final. All of this was wasting valuable campaigning time—time that Han McKerran was not spending in the same travel. It was putting her at a decisive disadvantage by traditional metrics. But that neglected the fact that all of Bakura knew she owned the Miners now. If she didn’t go to Dac to root them on, they’d think less of her.

    Kerry knew that the election was close enough that the results of this game might well determine the outcome of the election. She watched with white knuckles as the Patriots, such a perennial powerhouse in this era, traded blows with the Miners. Tan Strensky, one of the greatest to ever play and the dominant coach of the last seven seasons, was ranging the sideline for the Patriots. Though the Miner-Patriot game was considered a “friendly” rivalry, there wasn’t much amity between them today. Not when the Patriots had walloped the Miners 32-8 at Stoney End earlier in the season. Not when the Galactic Cup was on the line.

    In 251 the Miners had missed the playoffs. The media and fans had called for Dana Roslyn to be fired. Fionn and Aine had held firm and decided to keep Roslyn on as dual GM/Head Coach. It had been a rocky regular season, but Roslyn was hitting her stride now in the playoffs.

    This Miner team had come together at the right time. Declan Adama, the Full Forward stud, was their primary scorer. Westley Roberts, the charismatic and dashing half forward, supported him from behind. His wife, Buttercup, back in the defense. Gaeriel Valerii at midfield, who showed a lot of spunk. The team was solid and its core had gone 7-1 in a rare eight game season two years before only to flame out in the Semifinal in spectacular fashion.

    The owner’s box was full, from the white-haired Fionn and dignified Jane, to Siona, Kerry’s fellow Bakuran Senator. Fiona in her Defense Fleet uniform was there. Conn, looking as rakish as ever, was in attendance (and already pretty soused). Regan had only begrudgingly been invited at the gentle request of Fionn, but Kerry wasn’t pleased that she was there. Not after what she’d done. Not after those unforgiveable things…. Ronan was there too, and Oisin, recently married to Verity Vehn had made time from his honeymoon to witness the Final. Aine, who was clearly ailing, had made the journey, as had all of her kids.

    There was one familiar face in the box who most pointedly was not cheering for the Miners.

    [IMG]

    Jedi Master Lexine Wydra was an old family friend of the Triestes and was their guest for the Final today. Wydra was a human like everyone else in the box, but didn’t look it. Her mother had been exposed to a major chemical spill while pregnant with Lexine on Brentaal. The effect had been to turn Lexine, and hundreds of other children like her, green. Many died in infancy or early childhood. Lexine did not, but it had been a tough life growing up not human and not non-human in the eyes of many. Despite possessing a brilliant intellect that she used to earn a PhD in Political Science from Republican University, Lexine had never fit anywhere.

    At least not until she met Fionn Trieste by accident fifty years ago. It had been Fionn who had first brought her into contact with the Jedi Order, who identified a strong Force sensitivity within her. With old prohibitions against training all but young children in the ways of the Force abolished (though high standards for acceptance maintained), Lexine was accepted into the Order and came of age as a Jedi during the Neo-Sith War, the same war that had devastated Bakura. It had been the then-Knight Wydra who had proposed to the Jedi Council that the Jedi make a massive stand on Obroa-Skai against the Sith after coming to the insight that the Force was strongest in multiple Jedi united in one place—unlike the Sith whose strength she realized lay in small numbers. Therefore, in a battle royale the Jedi had their best chance to win. And it had been Lexine Wydra, with her Nautolan Padawan Kal Aquari (they had made an appropriately verdant pairing together), who had faced Lord Deran, the leader of the Sith, in combat on Obroa-Skai. Aquari had been the one to kill Deran, but not until after Lexine had wounded him at the cost of an injury of her own to her leg that had left her with a limp to this day.

    After the war, Lexine had settled into a life of study and education. She joined the faculty that refounded UB Salis D’aar and was instrumental in the creation of a Jedi Enclave on Bakura, one designed to plumb the Unknown Regions that extended beyond the planet. With no family of her own, Lexine delighted in the brood of children Fionn and Jane parented and was known to all of them as “Aunt Lexine.”

    There was one other thing that Lexine Wydra took great joy in: her homeworld Chandrila Patriots. Lexine had been born on Chandrila after her parents had left Brentaal and the world was dear to her heart—especially their national team. She was perhaps the most famous Patriot fan in the galaxy and was welcome at Stoney End at any time. In fact, she was affectionately called “the greenest Patriot in the galaxy.” Though once she wouldn’t have found the humor in that, now she smiled at the moniker.

    Naturally, Lexine would watch a Galactic Cup Final that pitted her team against the Miners with her dear friends the Triestes—and make pointed comments the entire time.

    “If Adama’s missing shots like that,” Lexine said, “Then you guys are in more trouble than I thought.”

    “I thought Jedi were supposed to be nice to people,” Senator Siona said.

    “Nice? Oh there’s nothing about being nice in the Jedi Code,” Lexine said.

    “Unfair,” Conn said, “How can we make a good comeback when you’ve got a lightsaber?”

    “Life’s tough kid,” Lexine quipped with a smile.

    “Speaking of tough luck, that’s another bar point for us,” Fionn said standing and clapping, “Wasn’t the Patriot defense ranked much higher than us this year, my dear?”

    “So much higher than ours, but it looks like we’re leading now, aren’t we?” Jane replied.

    “Big talk from a team that hasn’t won a Galactic Cup in the last 30 years with twenty minutes left,” Lexine said.

    “Big talk from a team that went through a 62 year championship draught,” a confident Kerry shot back.

    “Oooooh,” Lexine said appreciatively, pointing a finger at the redhead, “The young Senator scores a point.”

    The game was a seesaw. The Patriots, led by the indomitable Reina Kether, hammered away and the Miners were taking a lot of blows. Diarmid Zarek, the Miners’ goalkeeper, was having to put on a clinic, but the Patriots were still finding the net as Kether and her crew hammered away.

    It was an almost literal nailbiter. But Declan Adama’s late pass to Westley Roberts that he headered into the back of the net for a 25-19 lead had all the air of finality about it that they needed. Kerry literally jumped off her feet and into the arms of her husband Mihal Connair when the net swooshed.

    The final score was 26-20 and Kerry was beside herself. She kissed her husband, she kissed her children, and she kissed her father.

    When the time came for the owners to have the privilege of lifting the Cup, first came Aine. She was ill and weak, and so it was with the help of all three of her children that they lifted the Galactic Cup together. Then came the minority owners. They had split the Chairmanship duties of the Miners during the season, and as a result Kerry insisted that she lift the Galactic Cup together with her father. It was a championship for the both of them. Indeed, Fionn’s name was engraved next to his daughter’s on the Cup, forever together for all eternity.




    Salis D’aar, Bakura

    When the Bakura Miners brought the Galactic Cup of Limmie to Bakura, it was bigger than a visit by a Supreme Chancellor. It was bigger than rock stars. There weren’t words to describe it.

    It was like the entire planet of Bakura descended on Salis D’aar for the victory parade. Still crowned with edelweiss, the team was driven through packed streets that were canopied with blue and gold ticker tape. Declan Adama, Dana Roslyn, Diarmid Zarek, Gaeriel Valerii, Sam Anders, Roviden Quill, the Roberts’—they were superstars and the people of Bakura loved them and the shiny silver cup of history that they brought to their homeworld.

    Needless to say, Fionn, Jane, Aine, and Kerry Trieste were all present and they were greeted with a hero’s welcome too. These were the four Bakurans most responsible for this day, for the hiring of Dana Roslyn and standing by her (most of the fans had at one point or another felt that she should have been fired long ago, but now they wouldn’t admit it), for building a team and patiently letting it mature into the champions they now were.

    Outside of Bakura Gardens, tens, if not hundreds, of thousands packed into the square for the championship rally where the players all spoke and thanked the people of Bakura for their support. “You are without question some of the greatest fans in the galaxy,” Declan Adama said, “and I have to be diplomatic because now that we’re the champions we’ve got to be magnanimous, but let’s just say that if we were playing in a tank, you’d probably burst the bubble with the noise you make.”

    “I think all of you know by now that I’m not done,” Dana Roslyn said, “And Maker willing, this will not be the last time you all see this Cup!”

    Some like Zarek and Buttercup Roberts, both of which had announced their retirements shortly after winning the Cup, said their tearful goodbyes, while Westley Roberts displayed his recently-won Salbukk Award to the crowd. “I know you all are used to seeing Declan up here with this thing, but this year he decided to share. Trust me when I say nobody’s more surprised than me.”

    But the crescendo came when Kerry Trieste stepped up to the microphone. The crowd went berserk. There were Trieste “BELIEVE” signs, her campaign slogan, all throughout the crowd and the overall impression was that things were not too different from a “Trieste for Bakura” rally.

    “When I was in my Senior year at UBSD,” Kerry said, “I was told that if I worked hard, one day I might win a Galactic Cup with the Miners. Well, when they said that, I don’t think they thought I was going to win it as the owner and not on the field. Looks like I showed them.”

    When the crowd stopped laughing Kerry said. “Now, Elite League rules say that the Galactic Cup can’t be used for any political purposes, but I think that we can all agree that Bakura believed in the Miners when nobody else did and look where we are now. So if you’ll all allow me one last indulgence…”

    Kerry took the Galactic Cup, lifted it up over her head and then brought it down so she could kiss it for the delight of the crowd and a few hundred holocameras.

    Somewhere on Bakura, Han McKerran was not amused.



    “I won’t say that the Miners deserve all the credit for my victory in 252, but I will say that they certainly helped me smack McKerran down by almost a full 11 points,” Kerry said.

    “Here here,” Siona said, raising her glass in a toast, “My only regret about it is that we worked that deal with McKerran that made him Deputy PM in the 40-40 split of the Senate, not your grandmother, Ayn.”

    “She had her day in the end,” Ayn replied.

    “Your grandmother was nothing but loyal to me,” Kerry said, setting a hand on Ayn’s arm, “When I became Chancellor and vacated the West Office, I had no greater pleasure than seeing her take my place. It was a richly deserved reward.”

    “My grandmother owed your father a debt for everything he did for her in her hour of need,” Ayn said, “In my opinion, we Dormingales still owe a debt.”

    “On that point, then, we must disagree,” the Chancellor replied.

    It was then that Regan returned with Madsen and Durst. “You guys have fun seeing the sights?” Atticus asked his wife.

    “Absolutely!” Becca gushed.

    “It was a treat. A class operation you run here, Chancellor,” Madsen said, “I just hope that you didn’t hold up lunch on our account.”

    “Not at all. We were just indulging in some old stories,” the Chancellor said.

    From the complete lack of reaction to that, Ayn judged that Becca Durst didn’t seem too interested in history. Ayn knew it was her loss. Hopefully very much her loss.

    TAG: @CPL_Macja
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  6. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 5
    GM Post
    Elite League offices, Coruscant
    Earlier that week

    "The League has reviewed footage from Game 18 between the Mando'ade Mercs and the Rydonni Prime Monarchs," Esther Gondorf told the media, "In question is a hit by Laura Cynd-Nazug on Jett Hanson. Cynd-Nazug was ejected for the hit. After a review of the footage, the League has decided that Cynd-Nazug did indeed make contact with Hanson's head in the course of her hit. Because a game misconduct was handed down by the officials on the field, a suspension is required in cases of contact to the head.

    "As a result, Ms. Cynd-Nazug is suspended for one game, to be served during Game 24 against the Bakura Miners."

    TAG: @CPL_Macja
  7. CPL_Macja Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Nov 29, 2008
    star 5
    IC: Jhym Ro’meo
    The Jhym Ro’meo Show, CHS Sport net

    As the show opened up, his usual theme song played for a brief moment before the volume was lowered so that the punitive tones of the ELL General Counsel and chief disciplinarian, Esther Gondorf, could be heard clearly.

    After reviewing the footage, the League has decided that Cynd-Nazug did indeed make contact with Hanson’s head in the course of her hit. As a result, Ms. Cynd-Nazug is suspended for one game, to be served during Game 24 against the Bakura Miners.

    As the sound bite ended the theme music came back up for its conclusion and then it was replaced by the voice of the show. “That was the response of the Commissioner’s office after the vicious hit Laura Cynd-Nazug, Center Half Forward of the Rydonni Prime Monarchs, put on Jett Hanson, Right Half Back of the Mando’ade Mercs, near the end of their match-up a few days ago. Her father, Head Coach and General Manager of the Monarchs, didn’t see it that way after the match. He felt that it was a clean hit. Well now we are going to get some answers from the lady in the middle of this all, Laura Cynd-Nazug. Thank you for joining me Laura.

    Thank you Jhym for giving me the opportunity to speak about this.” Laura was joining him via a holocom setup in her apartment. “I haven’t slept too good. Last night and kind of thinking about it the night before, it’s going to be tough. You want to be out there helping your team out and doing whatever you can to get the wins.

    Well Laura, it is my understanding that you spoke with Ms. Gondorf prior to her handing down her final verdict. Can you tell us the content of that conversation or at least what they were looking for from you?

    Both parties had their say and made their statements, I’ll leave it at that.

    I see you have learned your father’s interview style.” Jhym chuckled, but got no reaction from Laura so he pressed on, “So be honest with me Laura, cause I know those Hanson crazies can get under my skin and I’m not even out on the pitch with them. But did were you intentionally trying to put him down, or was it an act of frustration, or what was it that caused you to just level Jett like that?

    Laura shook her head as she responded, “There was no intent to injure. I don’t mean to injure, to put anyone at harm. I have respect for every one of the players in this limmie league. I know what it is like to be knocked out of action from a hit like that. It’s just that I play a hard game, I play physical. It’s a hard game. Things happen really fast out there.

    The Monarchs made some acquisitions at the trade deadline. So who do you think should replace you against the Miners this week?

    I’m just a player, I don’t make decisions like that, you’ll need to talk to Coach about that one.

    Thank you, Laura, for joining me today.

    IC: Setarcos Rhemes
    GM’s Office, The Grande Villa

    Setarcos pushed a button on the touchscreen console built into his desk and the feed to The Jyhm Ro’meo Show cut off. “Well that went as well as could be expected. Don’t you think?” purred the platinum blonde Chairwomen of the Monarchs, who was sitting in Setarcos’s chair. As she spun around to face him he couldn’t help but realize that this was the first time he had seen her in anything but a dress. Constantly dressed to the nines, today she was wearing a simple, tan sleeveless shirt with khaki slacks.

    [IMG]

    Even in her casual clothes, Setarcos and practically every other human male on Rydonni Prime, found her strikingly beautiful. Around the planet she was highly regarded for her fashion sense, second only to her cousin Princess Naathe, and both of them were seen as the socialites of the K’ntarr family. “I think I might have to take things one step further once we get to Bakura. But what I want to know is what was going on on Byblos? What are Kalin and the twins up too? They are getting sloppy if Mr. Ro’meo knew about their trip there?

    Vaniise glided up out of the chair and slid over to stand right in front of Setarcos. He continued to lean against his desktop, not even flinching as she tucked some loose strands of his hair behind his ear. “Kalin has never been the most subtle of people when it comes to social events. But he was only there because Lady Thara Adrimar fancies him, and the Twins are looking to purchase Byblos RepulsorDrive, the subsidiary of Byblos Drive Yards, and combining it with Rythani Labs, Arden’s pet project.

    She placed her arms on his shoulders, letting her hands hang behind his head, and started playing with his long strands of hair. “Speaking of business ventures and royalty, when do you think people are going to notice that you bought out Kalin’s shares in the team and that the King has not made a public appearance recently?

    Vaniise took a deep breath as she seemed to study his face, “You know as well as I do that most people don’t pay any attention to our family unless there is a scandal, a marriage, or a birth looming. Uncle Anorb’s failing health will be announced in due course. Naathe needs to strengthen her position with the other noble families in the Royal House. Meanwhile Kalin’s dealings will come to light probably about the same time as our partnership on Byblos is solidified.

    Excellent, just tell Loruna to give me enough time to get the funds from Halverson.” Setarcos took his hands and gently placed them on her hips, “So are you coming along to Bakura for the match?

    Probably not, seeing as Uda will probably be there with Dana. So I have a question for you Mr. Rhemes. When do you think people will realize the truly scandalous relationship that we are covering up is this one right here?” Before he could answer she leaned in and passionately kissed him. Once her lips had had their fill she pulled back and looked him right in the eyes awaiting his answer.

    Well Lady K’ntarr, they’ll figure it out probably at the same time that Julla does.” He gave her a wink and went back to kissing her.
    ----- ----- ----- ----- -----
    Miners/Monarchs Pre-Match, Bakura Gardans

    Setarcos stood before his friends of the media. Most were expecting him to make some wild prediction for the upcoming match. Instead he stuck strictly to the facts. “As most of you are well aware of Laura Cynd-Nazug has been suspended for match and did not make the trip. Part of a limmie season is that you lose players along the way, but you just keep playing. Some have speculated that Greenly Zo will be her replacement, but unfortunately she is suffering from a non-limmie related injury and also unavailable for the match. That being said, Herc Tathor will be starting at Center Half Forward in Laura’s stead.

    “Now, as Assistant Captain, Laura is held at a higher standard than the rest of the players on the field. Her conduct on the field last week was not becoming of that of Captain of the Monarchs. So, it is with disappointment, that I must strip her of her status as Assistant Captain. However, it is with pleasure that I can grant the vacated position to one of our new rising stars that has served with distinction. Ladies and Gentlebeings, the new offensive Assistant Captain is none other than daughter of Bakura, Vesper Lynd.


    ----- ----- ----- ----- -----
    Mr. Halverson
    Rossum Bookmakers

    Mr. Halverson,

    I would like to place the following wagers:

    Rydonni Prime Monarchs at Bakura Miners: 100,000 credits on the Monarchs to win
    Nar Shaddaa Smugglers at Coruscant Senators: 75,000 credits on the Smugglers to win
    Chandrila Patriots at Mando’ade Mercs: 75,000 credits on the Mercs to win
    Vandelhalm Jets at Ralltiir Starkillers: 75,000 credits on the me Mkillers to win
    Onderon Crazy Dragons at Euceron Storm: 75,000 credits on the Storm to win
    Ryloth Rough Riders at Ylesia Lightning: [color=red}75,000 credits on the Lightning to win[/color]

    Thank you and have a good day,

    Client 24601


    TAG: @Trieste
    Trieste likes this.
  8. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 5
    GM Post

    Dear 24601,

    We have received your wagers for Week 4. At this time I will also confirm transactions from your Week 3 wagers:

    Mando’ade Mercs at Rydonni Prime Monarchs: 150,000 debit
    Nar Shaddaa Smugglers at Chandrila Patriots: 100,000 debit
    Bakura Miners at Coruscant Senators: 100,000 credit
    Vandelhelm Jets at Onderon Crazy Dragons: 50,000 debit
    Ylesia Lightning at Euceron Storm: 50,000 credit
    Ryloth Rough Riders at Ralltiir Starkillers: 50,000 debit

    Your previous balance of 1.35 million credits has been decreased by 200,000 credits for a new total of 1.15 million.

    Sincerely,

    Bennett Halverson
    Executive Director
    Rossum Bookmakers

    TAG: @CPL_Macja
    Last edited by Trieste, May 10, 2013
  9. Bardan_Jusik Mand'alor - Manager of the EUC, SWC and Spinoffs

    Manager
    Member Since:
    Dec 14, 2009
    star 10
    IC: Beskaryc Taab
    MandalMotors Hall, Manda'yaim

    This was getting ridiculous Taab thought to himself as he shaved off a piece of gihaal and popped it into his mouth. They had been at this for weeks and were still no closer to getting to the majority they needed for electing a mand'alor. He chewed thoughtfully, so far they had managed to eliminate a few fringe candidates, and of course the threat that was a Vizsla candidacy. But now it was time to start making the really tough decisions and now clan Ordo seemed to be solidfing its own holding. Taab would have to act fast if he was to keep his own dreams alive.

    It started with speaking with the head of Clan Vizsla. This was easy to do, after all the Mercs head coach was the man's younger brother. Rey'nar Vizsla was still bitter about being eliminated in the first round, and had made no attempts to hide his displeasure at the proceedings following that. But he had done the honorable thing and continued to come to the Hall for the votes. It was the only way to make sure his clan's voice was heard.

    Taab spoke with him at length about his vision for a Mandalorian future under his own stewardship. One of testing itself and it's people much like the Mercs were tested every week on the meshgeroya field. The grey and black armored man seemed to respond well to that, though by the end of the conversation taab had received no assurance of support. He moved on to the young man who called himself a Fett. He had been eliminated after the last vote and taab knew he would be able to persuade at least him.

    The man's green and yellow armor still looked so fresh to Taab, there were no scorch marks or battle scars. It was no wonder the clan leaders assembled here had eliminated him from contention rather early. Still the man had a defiant streak to him, and glared at Taab through hard eyes throughout the entire conversation. But though his demeanor didn't change his position dis once he learned who Taab's wife was. She too was of clan Vhett, what the aruetiise called Fett, and though this young man hadn't managed to convince the clans of the his own merit his linking to Taab could improve his chances in the future. The man pledged his support.

    Taab continued on around the room, many rebuffed his position stating firmly their support of clan Ordo. Others though, were swayed to his side. Perhaps enough even for a majority. The wild card was the other "lesser" candidates that still remained in the race. Taab hadn't gotten a chance to speak with them all before the beskar hammer again rang out against the anvil calling for the vote. Taab watched on as the votes came in, and the results were announced before the ballots were cast into the fire pit, the smoke rising through chimney of MandalMotors Mall.




    IC: Aay'han Vhett
    GM's Office, Meshla Vhetin, Manda'yaim

    Vhett scowled behind her desk looking over the medical report for Jett Hanson. They had been lucky that there was no concussion, the Hanson's head's seemed to be as hard as beskar. But his neck was sore, he wouldn't be able to take part in the match up against the Patriots. The twi'lek Aara'or, a throw in she had acquired in trade form the Monarchs would have to fill his spot. Hopefully Hanson would be ready by the time the Senators came to town. The doors to her office flung open and head coach Vizsla walked through, a blaster in his hand.

    Vhett stood and looked at him, but he simply smiled and tossed the hand blaster on her desk. "I forgot to give this to you earlier. From the aruetii, said he was a man of his word or some such." Vhett picked up the blaster, taking note of the carbon scoring around the muzzle she raised an eyebrow to Vizsla. "I just got back from the range, it functions," he said with a shrug before he turned around and left.

    Vhett sat back down looking the weapon over. Vizsla had unloaded it of course before giving it to her but the man should have cleaned it as well. She shook her head and started to break the weapon down, grabbing cleaning supplies out from a drawer in her desk. It was a small and elegant weapon she had to admit. Vizsla hadn't put too many bolts through it either, and it cleaned up rather easily. After reassembling it she headed out of her office to the range that the team maintained under the stadium.

    She doubted many other stadiums in the league offered such amenities to their players and staff, their own private 300 meter on site range paid for and maintained by the team. She had at times seen some of the players blowing off steam here after a loss, and she knew that Taab used it extensively, though she hadn't frequented it as often.

    She ran a holo-target out to a modest distance of 15 meters and brought up the little blaster, dry firing it several times to get a feel for it's sites and trigger. The trigger broke cleanly, though the sites were nearly non-existent. The grip on the blaster seemed a tad small for her, but what could you expect from a hold-out blaster? She was also not fond of the grip angle, but it was something she could get used to. The weapon at least was quite light, and had a large capacity compared to the Westar-34s she preferred.

    She loaded the weapon and proceeded to send bolts down range, allowing herself to forget the issues of the day. Hanson's injury, Tam's stubbornness, even Taab's business at MandalMotor's hall were all swept away as she relaxed and ran various defensive drills with the weapon. She had no idea how much time had gone by when it finally clicked on empty. She had enjoyed her time with it, but in reality she had no use for a holdout blaster of its type.

    She showed clear to the Range Safety officer, wondering what next to do with it. She had never accepted the bet and thus by rights the weapon shouldn't be hers. But mando'ade did like their trophies and this could become one such trophy. She handed the blaster to the RSO. "Have it cleaned and then engrave the date and score of our victory micro engraved on it." The man nodded before handing it off to an assistant giving him instructions. Vhett smiled now as she made her way back to her office. The blaster would become a trophy now, deposited in the Mercs trophy case next to the Trophy for winning the Rim-Series tournament during the Great Quiet. If the Monarchs won their match up next season then it would be granted back to them, but Vhett was sure that the Mercs would do their best to keep the "little pistol" and add even more trophies to their names.




    IC: Jaya "Barefoot" Tam
    Her Apartment, outskirts of Keldabe, manda'yaim

    If Jaya had been frustrated before with her position, now she was infuriated. The trade deadline had come and gone and she was still stuck here on a team of savages, playing in front of savage fans. According to her agent there hadn't been any attempt made to work out a trade to the Lightning, not even an acknowledgement of the request. It was maddening and there was nothing that she felt she could do. At least last week's game had been off world so she didn't have to deal with the heckling of the hometown fans. But this week it would be different. This week they were at home taking on the Patriots and the fans were already fired up.

    The Patriots were the team the Mercs had defeated in the PLL finals the season prior to joining the ELL. This would be their first match up since that time. From what Jaya could understand that playoff run had been an improbable one, and as a 9 seed the Mercs had stunned everyone in taking the PLL crown. It had propelled them as a team into the ranks of the ELL, and they had become entrenched there ever since. the team had undergone rough times, but last season they had made the ELL finals and their own developmental team had won the PLL title for the organization again.

    The team and the fans were riding on a high right now, but it was one that jaya herself could not share in. It was too bad too. She had actually fallen in love with this world itself. Different from Shili which she still missed, but so raw and wild. It was a world of hunters, and she felt she could fit in so easily if not for their mocking of her beliefs. She wondered briefly if it would have been better to have been drafted by a team like the Senators. She wasn't sure if they would have allowed her to play in her bare feet either, but she knew that she would have felt no connection to the earth there anyway on that built up, unnatural world.

    She shook her head, her headtails swaying back and forth over her shoulders. A tear started to form in the corner of her eye, but she angrily wiped it away. She wouldn't cry, she was too strong for that. there had to be a way to fix this situation, but barring a tarde she didn't know what it was. She tried again to think on the positives, at least it wasn't Coruscant...

    The thought stuck her suddenly. Coruscant? The League Office! that was it. It was no secret in the Mercs locker room that there was no love lost between the League office and the Merc's organization. In fact it was rumored that the team;s owner hated the Bothan commissioner and that the feeling was quite mutual. Maybe she could write a protest to the league office about her situation. She was sure they would look kindly upon her plight and take the chance to stick it to the Mandalorians. She sat down at her terminal, writing a brief description of what she had gone through and the refusal of Merc's staff to allow her religious freedom and play the game barefoot. She asked the league office to intervene and force the Mercs to either allow her to play barefoot or trade her to a team that would.

    She had just sent off the message when the small holo-set in her apartment caught her attention. "Breaking news on Mandalore" was the headline. She turned up the set to find out what was going on.

    The holo was set to the HNGBC network of course. Probably the only one on the planet watching the unabashedly progressive network. She had heard the Nulls berate it as pure propaganda, and if she was honest with herself she believed that too. But certainly no worse than Vornskr News Still if watching it could make the Mandalorians angry then she was all for that. The image zoomed in on the Ortolan host of Softball, one of their many political shows.

    "Yes, yes, we are getting word that the Mandalorians have finally selected a new leader." The image was replaced by one of the chimney at MandalMotors Hall, a grayish smoke streamed from it. The commentator continued on as Jaya watched the wispy smoke, "Those Mandalorians may be a bloodthirsty savage people, but I tell ya what, they know drama. I feel a tingle, a thrill going up my leg right now. I can't wait to find out who they have..."

    "Off" Jaya said loudly and the set deactivated itself. She didn't care who the new Mandalorian leader would be, it had nothing to do with her plight here. Instead she went off to bed, hoping to hear from the league office soon.

    TAG: @Trieste for ELL Office reaction to Jaya's petition to force the Mercs to let her play barefoot.

    [IMG]
    Last edited by Bardan_Jusik, May 11, 2013
  10. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 5
    IC: Ayn Dormingale
    Bakura Gardens, Salis D'aar, Bakura

    The Noble House maneuvered themselves to the seats at the front of the box with the start of the game imminent, lunch now finished and being cleared. Well, maybe maneuvered wasn't the right word since most of them didn't particularly care where they sat (though the Chancellor was always in the front row, center--that was just understood by everyone present), but Ayn very much did. She was determined to put herself between Declan and Becca. She would hipcheck her rival if she had to. (Though, truth be told, the mountain girl could probably have taken it from the urban socialite, so it wasn't the best course of action.)

    "Senator, join me, will you?" Kerry Trieste said as they took their seats. Ayn instinctively knew that Kerry wanted to talk business with Madsen. "I don't think there's another view like it in the entire stadium. It would be a shame for you to miss it."

    "How kind of you, Chancellor," Madsen replied, "Come on Becca." The pair filed into seats next to the Chancellor. Ayn had one eye on Declan, who was moving for the front row so he'd be next to Becca.

    You stupid, stupid man! Ayn's mind raged as she tried to swerve her way into proper position. Declan already had a step on her--it was looking like the best she'd be able to do was get to the other side of Declan. It was a consolation prize, but better than getting boxed out entirely.

    "Son of a--!" Siona suddenly shouted.

    The entire box stopped and turned to look at Lynd who had her macrobinoculars clutched to her eyes. "I don't believe it!" she continued.

    "What?" Kerry asked with concern.

    "The nerve! The frakking nerve!" Siona said, "She's wearing an A!"

    "Who?" Fiona asked.

    "Vesper!"

    That started a stampede in the box for the seats. Ayn, who had hoped to weave artfully through the ambling Triestes, suddenly found herself blown by all of them as the first row filled up with beings who were all searching for their relative in the Monarch jersey who was indeed now wearing an assistant captain's A.

    "This is ridiculous."

    "They did this to taunt us."

    "I bet she's loving this right now."

    "She shouldn't have accepted. It's in bad taste."

    "She probably loved it. She knew she'd drive us crazy with it."

    "We aught to kick her out of the House."

    "You're overreacting."

    "It's an affront to our pride."

    "Has anyone considered this is a good thing? We've got a Chancellor, a Queen of Naboo, and now a Monarch assistant captain. 'The morning shall come when the world is mine,' after all."

    That produced a few pockets of laughter, which Ayn didn't get. But the flurry of activity had completely ruined her plans. She was totally boxed out of the first row and even the seats immediately behind Declan. And he was going to be cozy next to Becca Durst the entire game. This was not looking like a very enjoyable game. Ayn was forced to take a seat next to Trixie Eldred, who was, as ever looking less than pleased to be there.

    "It's a stupid motto," Trixie said.

    "What is?"

    "The morning shall come when the world is mine," Trixie said.

    "I'm sorry, I don't get it," Ayn said.

    "It's our family motto," Trixie said with her usual disinterest, "It's from some stupid book or something. 'The morning shall come when the world is mine; tomorrow belongs to me.' That's what my mom keeps saying."

    "Very...ambitious," Ayn said neutrally. After all, Kerry Trieste had achieved just that--and then the Republic and a majority of known space in the galaxy had been hers.

    "No, it's stupid because. It's in the future tense. Doesn't anybody here speak proper Basic? 'The morning shall come...tomorrow belongs to me,' it never arrives. What good is it if it never arrives?" Trixie said sullenly.

    Ayn settled into her seat next to Trixie. For once she had to agree with the dour girl.

    In the front of the box, Kerry Trieste was examining Vesper Lynd with her newly sewn A through a pair of macrobinoculars. "Even money says this was Rhemes' doing," she said. It was all the Chancellor expected from a fellow ginger. "Power move, Rhemes. Power move."

    TAG: @CPL_Macja
    CPL_Macja and jcgoble3 like this.
  11. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 5
    GM Post

    Week 4 bonus rolls for Bakura, Coruscant, Mando'ade, Nar Shaddaa, and Rydonni Prime.

    Week 4 Results

    Onderon Crazy Dragons at Euceron Storm (6-9)
    Vandelhelm Jets at Ralltiir Starkillers (2-2, OT 5-9)
    Ryloth Rough Riders at Ylesia Lightning (2-19)
    Chandrila Patriots at Mando’ade Mercs (24-34)
    Nar Shaddaa Smugglers at Coruscant Senators (22-27)
    Rydonni Prime Monarchs at Bakura Miners (9-39)



    Dear 24601,

    Congratulations on a bounce back week, comprised of the following results:

    Rydonni Prime Monarchs at Bakura Miners: 100,000 debit
    Nar Shaddaa Smugglers at Coruscant Senators: 75,000 debit
    Chandrila Patriots at Mando’ade Mercs: 75,000 credit
    Vandelhalm Jets at Ralltiir Starkillers: 75,000 credit
    Onderon Crazy Dragons at Euceron Storm: 75,000 credit
    Ryloth Rough Riders at Ylesia Lightning: 75,000 credit

    Your balance at the start of the week was 1.15 million credits. Your winnings less your losses amount to 125,000 credits for a new total of 1.275 million credits.

    May the odds be ever in your favor.

    Sincerely,

    Bennett Halverson
    Executive Director
    Rossum Bookmakers

    TAG: @Bardan_Jusik @CPL_Macja @jcgoble3 @Jedi Gunny @JediMaster1511 @JM_1977 @Liam_Vehn @Rebecca_Daniels @Runjedirun @Teegirloo
    Last edited by Trieste, May 12, 2013
  12. jcgoble3 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Nov 7, 2010
    star 4
    Sub-GM Post

    Bonus rolls this week to (points in parentheses): Thyferra (30), Druckenwell (28), Concordia (30).

    Limmie Futures League
    Week 4
    Denon Demons at Thyferra Force (6–28)
    Kashyyyk Rangers at Druckenwell Marksmen (1–13)
    Kessel Runners at Kamino Waves (18–12)
    Shili Suncrushers at Tatooine Sandskimmers (20–1)
    Commenor Gundarks at Concordia Crusaders (25–0)

    TAG: @JM_1977, @Bardan_Jusik, @Liam_Vehn, @Rebecca_Daniels, @Jedi Gunny, @Teegirloo, @Runjedirun, @JediMaster1511
  13. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 5
    IC: Ayn Dormingale
    Bakura Gardens, Salis D'aar, Bakura



    When the game started, there was considerable anxiety in the Noble House box regarding the status of Corrie Andersen. She'd taken a particularly tough hit last week and had not finished the game. Being a veteran player (which Ayn had learned was the nice way to refer to a player getting up there in years), the Triestes were more than a little worried that Andersen wouldn't bounce back this week. She was a big part of the Miner Front Three offense and an off day from her might easily spell bad things for the Miners today. In fact, Roan had observed that it would have been wise to recall their young stud Will Detra from Fondor to at least be reserve if Andersen proved less than up for the challenge. Carrying Detra's salary for the remainder of the season wouldn't have been a big deal for the team, but Cundertol had not done so after Tunross had cleared Andersen for full contact practice and playing in the game. Valerii had nothing to say about the need for a reserve for Andersen. It was definitely putting all of the team's eggs in one Right Corner Forward basket.

    The Miners made a quick break to start the game into the zone. Glencross recovered the ball, shook Cali Royd, and put a long and low punt down field straight to Andersen. She jumped, grabbed the ball with both hands firmly, and landed squarely on her feet as a skidding Aley Helios outran Andersen. Wide open with Helios trying to get back to cover her assignment, Andersen put the ball in front of her and fired a low cross on goal and by the Monarch captain for the game's opening points.

    The Triestes came to their feet in relieved joy. It looked like Andersen was going to be herself and not some dazed zombie on the field. Becca Durst happily highfived a smiling Declan.

    Ayn turned in her seat and caught the attention of one of the waiter droids. "Excuse me, I'd like a Vintage please. You know how to make one I trust?" It was one of the basic cocktails in the galaxy.

    "A small lump of sugar dissolved in a little water mixed with one jigger of whiskey, two dashes of bitters over ice served with a citrus peel?" the droid said correctly.

    "Yes, thank you," Ayn said with a smile.



    The Miner defense was worst in the league. Much had been made of this. The loss of Inviere had obviously hit the team hard and Ruunron was not looking like the next Inviere despite a year of development on Ord Mantell. Bree Tarth and Uncia had also been a bit off their game--a dangerous thing to be in a contract year. The Wiz and Waters were looking pretty strong and that 271 ELL Draft was looking like it had produced some good things for the Miners. T.K. had his struggles from time to time but was playing all right. However, the bolo-ball in the Miner end of the field was nothing short of terrifying for the Triestes. It always felt like they were in imminent danger of allowing points to the opposition. The idea that Valerii could use a defensive assistant wasn't seeming so far-fetched.

    The Monarchs appeared to know where the Miners' weaknesses were and they attacked it head on. The Trandoshan in the middle of the field was seeing a lot of action and Wizmark was getting less play on her side of the field. Eve Wupiupi cut away from Wizmark and ran straight for the middle. Besides going at the Miners' weak point it also opened up a lot more of the field to the Monarchs' offense. Ruunron wasn't ceding the field to the Monarchs though. He went straight on for the Zelosian, who deked to the right--and was met with a flying tackle from the Trandoshan, who hauled the Monarch straight to the ground. The Gardens shouted in excitement at the gutsy play by the rookie as Wizmark recovered the bolo-ball and played it up the field.

    Becca was on her feet, clapping with excitement. She turned her happy face towards Declan, who, in the midst of cheering himself, returned her gaze.

    Ayn looked for the waiter droid. "I'll take another," she said, handing over her Vintage glass that now contained only ice.



    With the defense underperforming this season--and being last in the League, no less--it was nothing short of a minor miracle that Bakura was in playoff position in the competitive Solo Conference.

    The name of the minor miracle was Aron Rodders.

    Big John Talley had been a popular head coach of the Miners, even if an underperforming one, but in the last two years opinion across Bakura had steadily declined (with exception of Nouvelle Orleans where the student body of the College of Deredith & Millicent still wanted to erect a statue of the man who had dominated the Bak10 during his tenure there). The reason was that Talley had moved Rodders from his collegiate position of Full Forward to Center Half Back, a move designed to utilize Rodders' stellar arm as a passing weapon. Until the end of Talley's reign, Rodders had sat at Center Half Back executing ridiculously good passes, but his receivers never did anything with the bolo-ball.

    It had been Gaeriel Valerii who had moved Rodders back to Full Forward and since then the Miners had become an offensive beast. Rodders' arm, it turned out, was better put to use shooting, not passing. And shoot Rodders had ever since he'd gone to Full Forward. Rodders, Andersen, and Stormborn were a formidable force up front. Not unstoppable, but they were pretty darn impressive. Today was no exception. Rodders caught a pass from Alesh and felt the hit coming from his fellow Bakuran Cora Xux. Rodders instinctively bent and ducked and Xux, who went for a high tackle, found that her arms grabbed air and Rodders stepped forward and shot past Singus for another goal, which was celebrated with the traditional belt move. Sure, opponents of the Miners had tried to take the belt from him every time the Miners lost, but the belt was still Aron's.

    The Triestes didn't get tired of celebrating Miner points. A day like this was a good day to be a Miner fan. Even though it was her first game at Bakura Gardens, Becca Durst was fitting just fine into the gang.

    Ayn just shook her Vintage glass, now containing only melting ice, and the waiter droid got the picture.



    Alana Glencross was having a hell of a game. She'd essentially taken over the midfield for the Miners today. North was playing well, but Glencross was clearly the standout today. Seter and Royd were just not looking up to the task today after their big loss at Keldabe last week and the Miners were all too happy to keep up the good work. The redhead had been kept in the game even after Valerii had taken her starters out when she was up by 20.

    "Now why would Valerii do that..." Madsen mused in his low baritone when the player changes were made.

    "If I had to venture a guess, it's that Valerii wants to ride her hot hand and give some leadership to her less than experienced reserves," Kerry Trieste said, "And if there's one thing I've come to trust, it's Gaeriel Valerii's intuition."


    As usual, Valerii knew what she was doing. Glencross hauled in the bolo-ball and, despite the advanced time in the second half, blew right through the Monarch defenders. She pulled a spin-o-rama on Nazug and was in open field. She swung her arm in an overhand throw, but didn't release the ball for a bar point. Instead, she brought it around in a full 360 degree circle and put the ball in front of her on the turf and swung her strong right leg into it for a rocket into the goal for another three points. The redhead had a huge grin and threw her arms out so she could receive the congratulatory hugs from her fellow Miners. It had been a banner day for the redhead. She was pushing double digit assists on the day and now had a goal to her name. Throw in the fact that her defensive play had taken off today and it was a very good showing for the captain.

    As Becca Durst excitedly hugged Declan, Ayn, remaining sitting, just handed her empty drink to the waiting droid and took the new Vintage he'd already crafted without her asking.



    "From all of us at Bakura Gardens, goodnight and joy be with you all."

    That was the new sign off from the Miners organization, broadcast over the public address system, win or lose. It was an homage to last season's Truce Day Game where the Miners had lifted a glass to their fans after taking back the Old Whiskey Trophy. And as the fans filed out of the stadium, happy with the afternoon, the Triestes prepared to do the same.

    "Well, I'd say we saw a game today, wouldn't you, Becca?" Madsen said.

    "That was fantastic!" she gushed, "Thank you for inviting us!"

    "It was a pleasure. I'm glad Declan thought of it," Kerry said.

    "Allow us to express our gratitude by buying dinner tonight," Madsen told the Chancellor.

    "Sadly, I must decline. I am due on Naboo in a few days to sign their articles of admission and then it's onto Nar Shaddaa for the Black & Blue," Kerry said, "It's a pity you can't join us there. At this rate it's looking like it's going to be quite the game."

    Please Maker no no no no no, Ayn thought feverishly.

    "I'm afraid we'll just have to catch that one on the BBC," Madsen said, "Nar Shaddaa is a bit too far out of our orbit. But if we can't persuade you to dinner, perhaps you Declan?"

    "It would be a pleasure," Declan said jovially.

    FRAK ME, Ayn's brain screamed.

    "Until next time," the Senator said and with that he and his daughter left with Declan Trieste.

    As much as Ayn wanted the Miners to win, she was thoroughly disgusted with the fact that they'd put on their best performance of the season with Becca Durst here. A 30 point victory. Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. And Becca Durst had been next to Declan for the entire thing, artlessly fawning over him the entire time. She was pretty sure that it wasn't the liquor that wanted to make her hurl right now. Today had been an utter disaster for her, a complete disaster.

    "You need to control yourself better," Regan Eldred suddenly hissed in Ayn's ear.

    The surprised Dormingale turned to find the Associate Justice standing right next to her. "I--"

    "We might be a family that treats their livers like punching bags, but you need to keep your head, especially when your competition comes around," Regan continued softly, but with displeasure, "The Miners go on the road and she won't be there. This is your opportunity. You had better remember that and not drown yourself in the meantime. For your sake. This family will survive if Becca Durst becomes a member of it. You may have allies, but they will not risk all for you."

    And with that Regan left. Ayn's head was clouded as she too eventually filed out of the Gardens. Today had been terrible. It was why when she got into her air taxi she gave the name of a place she hadn't been to since she'd left UBSD.



    The Top Floor Club, Salis D'aar, Bakura

    Ayn, despite her better judgment, had ordered her second drink at the Top Floor Club. Night had now fallen on Salis D'aar and from its position at the apex of one of the transparisteel scrapers of the financial district. Most of the patrons probably hadn't been at the Gardens today, though a fair number had likely watched. They weren't diehard limmie fans. They were beings looking for a good time and a pretty face. Ayn had been one of them once, picking up whomever struck her fancy on a given night. She had been looking for pleasure, for a warm body, for brief companionship and she'd found it. She'd given it up when she'd realized she wanted Declan more than that. Now she'd retreated her again. Everything she'd done had come to nothing. He was still choosing Durst over her. It made Ayn angry...but more than that it made her despondent. She didn't know what else to do. Right now all she wanted to do was forget.

    "Hey there."

    Ayn turned. She looked him over.

    "How are you?"

    "I've just been thinking," Ayn said.

    "I thought you were the intellectual type."

    "I've got a conundrum. Care to help me with it?"

    "Absolutely. What is it?"

    Ayn grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him towards her. She kissed him hard and long.

    When they finished he said, "That's a problem I wish I had more often."

    "That was only the hypothesis," Ayn said and she kissed him again.



    Elsewhere, Salis D'aar, Bakura
    The next morning

    Ayn got out of bed quietly and dressed. She hadn't yet gotten her dress back on when she heard him roll over in bed.

    "Good morning beautiful," he said.

    "Good morning," she said as she pulled her frock on.

    "I could have some breakfast made."

    "That's kind, but I need to catch a shuttle. It might be your day off, but I'm expected back at work."

    "I'll write you a note."

    "Thanks, but I don't think it would count for much." She smiled.

    "Seriously, I've got some bacon or something in the fridge."

    Ayn went to the bed and gave him a peck on the forehead. "It's thoughtful, but I have to go." She slipped into her shoes and headed for the bedroom door. "By the way," she added, "Spectacular game yesterday. I was there."

    "Thanks, it was, wasn't it?" Everett North said.

    TAG: @CPL_Macja @Liam_Vehn
  14. Vehn Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Sep 14, 2009
    star 4


    IC: Meredith Chambers

    The Final Rim War, Nar Shaddaa @ Coruscant

    She remembered the blood. She could smell it.

    She remembered the sweat dripping from her forehead.

    She remembered the way the home crowd could block out all of her defensive calls from the goalkeeper’s box making the game impossible to coordinate from her position on the pitch.

    What she couldn’t remember was what happened shortly after the second half started.

    Polis Vayne had broken into the Smuggler backfield, the veteran eyeing up another chance to put Chambers away. Luy’kin was popped hard on a chopping block by Moen Heatly and Raches had leveled George Edwards going up to create some interference so Meredith could have a chance at defending the goal in a fairly even match-up. The Smuggler defense could only slow the Senators down today like a faulty plunger in the rising water of a backed up toilet. Pamela Korthe had come out hitting hard today in truly S’rily style. The last three weeks had shown to everyone why Meredith Chambers was leaving at the end of this year.

    She’d lost a step and everyone knew it.

    Vayne on Chambers, two veterans, both retiring at the end of the year, leading two squads heading in two very different directions, battling one last time for all the glory squared off in a drive that would reverberate throughout the Holonet. Meredith zeroed in on Vayne’s footwork. The guy had been working hard in the off-season. She’d never seen him so fit. Now he flicked the ball from foot to hand and back again, but Vayne had to know that he wasn’t fooling Chambers.

    Vayne was approaching the goal fast. Meredith charged forward, shoulder lowered, knowing that every second she closed the gap with him it would create a smaller target window for the veteran Senator. This was a game of chicken. Neither veteran was going to budge. Meredith’s eyes widened slightly as she realized that Vayne wasn’t going to stop. Gritting her teeth, she pushed forward, cleats digging hard into the turf. She was ready to take out all of her frustrations for this dismal season on Vayne.

    Nothing was going to stop her.

    Polis leaped into the air and was about to fire off a heater into the back corner of the net when Meredith also leaped into the air and was hit full on in the face with the bolo-ball. That stunned Meredith but what finished her off was Vayne’s follow-through fist intended to hit the bolo-ball one more time colliding with her right temple in a bone crunching punch.

    Lights out.




    First Republic Hospital, Coruscant

    “Is that who I think it is?” One of the nurses asked a co-worker.

    “Can’t be, hold on, let me get her chart,” the other nurse replied. “Maker, Meredith Chambers!”

    “I saw how she got this injury on the Holonet. Doesn’t she realize she’s getting too old to play this game? She’s throwing her future away taking hits like that.”

    “These people don’t have any concept of the future. They only live for the moment.”

    “Will she live?” the first nurse asked.

    “Your guess is as good as mine,” the second nurse replied.




    Hours Later

    She awakened in the hospital bed to the annoying sound of the life support machine beeping away. Well, maybe it wasn’t so annoying, at least she was alive. She had a splitting headache and her neck was restrained inside some sort of collar. All she could do was stare at the ceiling, made up of tiled panels with individual bumps arranged in a grid pattern. She hated that kind of ceiling because it reminded her of school. You know the kind of ceiling, the kids would throw pencils at it trying to see how many could get stuck.

    The lights to her room flashed on. Groaning, she looked at the face of the Zabrak doctor who thrust his latex smelling hands onto her eyelids pushing them open. After doing his basic exam, the Zabrak pulled away and smiled.

    “Well, you’ll live, Meredith.”

    “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Meredith croaked out.

    “You were lucky. You could’ve been killed. A blow to the temple can be fatal. Several vertebrae in your neck were popped out of position and nearly resulted in a serious fracture. Fortunately, you didn’t suffer any nerve damage. We’ve stabilized you for now
    but it is my recommendation that you quit playing Limmie professionally.”

    “You’re not my doctor, what the hell do you know!”

    “I’m just telling you that I don’t think you can—“

    “Don’t you tell me what I can and can’t do!” Meredith seethed.

    “Well, you’ve got my diagnosis. Up to you whether or not you want to heed my advice,” the doctor said and then left the room.

    Meredith fumed as she lay immobile in her hospital bed. Her fists curled into balls of rage. She remembered the game was starting to get out of hand. She’d tried to block a shot from Vayne and then what? The rest was foggy, unclear. Tears slipped down the corners of her eyes. She’d had enough crap for one season. Couldn’t she catch a lucky break? Couldn’t she have anything go her way?

    “Be thankful to be alive,” a voice said from the entryway.

    “I don’t want any visitors.”

    “Not even your own father?”

    Meredith went rigid. She hadn’t spoken with her father since they had a big argument before she went off to college. She thought he hated her. In some way, she wondered if part of her hated him. They were a lot alike. Both were ambitious, driven, over-achievers for their class and station in society. And both wanted a fair shot of the pie that it seemed like the entire galaxy was gorging itself on. Victory was never enough. They wanted more. But there couldn’t’ be anything more. They’d reached the summit of the mountain and were now beginning the inevitable trek downward.

    “When did you get here?”

    “A half hour ago,” Daniel Chambers said.

    “You hear the diagnosis?”

    “Yeah, sounds bad. I watched the game, rough hit, Mere,” the elder Chambers observed.

    “You watched the game?”

    “Yeah, of course, I’ve watched every one of your games since you entered the league.”

    “Really?”

    “That surprise you?”

    “Yeah, kind of.”

    “Still smarting over our last conversation?” Daniel asked.

    Meredith returned her eyes to that terrible ceiling.

    “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

    “Fine, fair enough. I’ll be taking you home when they release you.”

    “I don’t need a ride from you.”

    “I know. But you’re getting one anyway.”

    “I don’t need charity!”

    “Face the facts, Meredith. You were nearly killed out there on the pitch! You’re my daughter for Maker’s sake. You expect me to sit idly by while the one person I love more than anything is nearly disabled for the rest of her life over a rough play? You’re going to sit your ass down in that shuttle on the way home and recover. You’ve more than made a name for yourself playing Limmie. Everyone knows you. I can’t even go shopping anymore because of you. So just call it quits, will you? Do you want to die out there?”

    “No.”

    “Okay, well, I’ll go sign your release papers. Turns out that somewhere, somehow, I’m still listed as the person to contact in the case of emergencies. Imagine that. Me,” Daniel said before turning to leave the room.

    “Dad?” Meredith called out. A slip of the tongue, but it had been a long time since they’d been together. Too long.

    “Yes?”

    “You know they call this rivalry the Rim War? I could’ve been the first real casualty out there,” Chambers admitted.

    Her father looked at her for a brief moment and smiled. Chuckling, he shook his head, “You have a real sick sense of humor, you know that?”

    “Your fault.”

    “I know.”

    Tag: @Jedi Gunny
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  15. Runjedirun Chosen One

    Member Since:
    Sep 3, 2012
    star 6
    IC: Lucie Vigo


    Lucie always walked everywhere. But today she made an exception. The rain was coming down in sheets. Worst day ever for a Limmie game she thought to herself as she made a call for an air taxi to pick her up and take her to the stadium. The rain wasn’t stopping the fans though; the parking lot was already filling up as she paid the driver and made a mad dash toward the back entrance.

    Lucie led the dance team onto the field in their blue warm ups. Immediately her shoes filled with water, but the crowd responded positively to their entrance, which made the misery of being instantly soaked to the bone tolerable. She and the other dance team members waived to the crowd and began a home team chant for the Starkillers as the team took the field.

    The moment of tolerance didn’t last long. Soon Lucie was standing drenched on the sideline the rain stinging her eyes and when she could catch a glimpse of which direction the ball was going it always seemed to be hitting the ground. Finally with a minute to go in the half Loren Jul managed to get close enough to the Jet’s goal post with the ball to aim and hit a post. One point for the Starkillers. Lucie led the dance team onto the field for a very simple celebratory routine.

    Tonn was able to put another point on the board at the beginning of the second half, but the pesky Jets were also able to score 2 points and at the end of regulation the score was tied 2-2. Lucie wanted nothing more than to go home and get dry, but now she was faced with an overtime period. Thankfully the rain let up, it was just a drizzle when the overtime period began and the Starkillers took full advantage. Loren was the first to put 3 points on the board. With an assist from Jiims she got the crowd on their feet with a spectacular goal right down the middle. Marmu was next to put a point on the board, with an assist from Jul who was on fire and determined to win this game. But just when things were looking up for the Starkillers the Jets scored making the score 6– 5 Starkillers.

    Lucie had not stood for 3+ hours in the rain for nothing. It was time to get the crowd into the game. The dance team stripped off their warm ups to reveal their uniforms and motioned the crowd unto their feet. Again the ball was in Jul’s hands. The whole stadium began to cheer “Jul, Jul, Jul”. She did not let them down with a minute left on the clock in overtime she scored another goal. The misery of the rain was forgotten as the stadium shook with celebratory cheer. Try as they might the Jets could not answer. Jooms made certain of that with a final block as the clock hit zero.

    An hour after the game once the stadium had cleared out and Lucie had changed into dry clothes. The sun came out. She was able to walk home and focus her mind on an upcoming term paper for that dance history class she was enrolled in.


    @JediMaster1511
    Last edited by Runjedirun, May 16, 2013
    Trieste likes this.
  16. Jedi Gunny Yahtzee Host

    Game Host
    Member Since:
    May 20, 2008
    star 8
    IC: Polis Vayne
    Bursya Field at Andromeda Steel Corp. Stadium

    The Final Rim War in the careers of the Senator veterans and the Smugglers’ Meredith Chambers had been everything expected from it. Bloody, brutal, nasty; all the hallmarks of a Rim War game. This was one game where some bruises and cuts were the least of your problem, because it was more likely you’d end up with broken bones from a bone-crushing hit. It made a fan wonder how the Smugglers ever survived having the so-called “Blood Bowl” rivalry back in the day along with this game, because both games were equally nasty. If a fan wanted to see on-field savagery, it was this game.

    The crowd at Andromeda kept up its steady cascade of noise, making Chambers’ play calls from the goal box drowned out. But the Senators fed off this energy, their black and orange uniforms everywhere on the field as they tangled with the road white uniforms of the Smugglers. After Vic McTodd was popped mercilessly by Zummarrorroo, the Wookiee wing defender, Ortho Dyhon tossed the ball up the field. Alysha Romax, who had dodged Xander Darkrider in the middle of the field and tossed it up to Senator field general Lokesh Fil’ish. The wily Bothan checked her options, stiff-armed George Edwards in the face as he came too close to her personal space, and then sent out a long toss to Max Qorbus on the right side of the field. The Nautolan then found Polis Vayne in the crease, coming off a huge screen by forward and enforcer Syprul Raches on George Edwards and Moen Heatly making a chop block on Sasha Luy’kin, leaving the middle of the field wide open for Polis.

    The forward caught the ball, now alone against Chambers in goal. He started the dance of deception, as this kind of move was called when a forward, on a break 1 on 1 against a goalie, would start a variety of different moves to unnerve or confuse the goalie. But Polis knew Chambers wouldn’t fall for these moves as he came closer, so he kept at it, hoping that she would finally break and make a bad decision. The Hapan goalie just steeled herself in goal, in typical Meredith Chambers fashion. Even though the last few seasons hadn’t gone her way, Polis knew that she wasn’t going to give up on this. A win over the Senators would mean a lot to her and to her team, and he was inclined to not let that happen.

    Finally, he jumped into the air, ready to fire off a heater into the corner of the net. What he didn’t expect was to see Chambers rise up in the air with him. He let off the shot, and it bounced off Chambers’ face, much to both of theirs’ chagrin. Polis then sent in his fist, trying to punch the ball down and away from Chambers. The idea here was to not allow her to block the ball with her face again, despite how painful that must have been. However, his fist, instead of connecting with the ball, nailed Chambers in the face, and she plummeted down onto the ground. The bolo-ball, now not being blocked by anything, somehow spun into the goal for three points. The moment of exhilaration for Senator fans came, and another roar went through the stadium as the fans celebrated. But Polis didn’t notice; all he could see was Chambers out cold on the ground. Meredith Chambers, the Iron Girl of the game, out cold from an unintentional punch? It hadn’t been intended to be malicious . . .

    Then a whistle came from the background. Polis turned to see a ref run up to him. “You’re ejected!” the Zabrak shouted at him, making the “toss out” gesture after he pointed to the Senator assistant captain. The crowd suddenly switched tactics and rained boos down on the ref. Polis went ballistic; that hadn’t been intentional. He pleaded his case to the ref, but the Zabrak was having none of it. All the while, the fans kept booing when they saw the replay. Polis had indeed clocked Chambers in the face, but it would have been a play 99 times out of 100 that would have resulted in a clean result.

    Finally, Dirxx came over to continue the complaint train with the ref, freeing Polis up. The Smuggler training staff was attending to Chambers down on the field, as was several of her teammates. Polis then went over and joined them. Even though he was a Senator, and had always reserved special hatred for the Smugglers . . . this was the Meredith Chambers. What a terrible way to go in her last Rim War game.

    Finally, the Zabrak ref came over and yanked Polis out of the way. “Get out, or I’m going to have you arrested!” he yelled.

    “Pay a little respect, slimeball,” Polis said. He then walked off the field to the team tunnel, the boos still raining down from the way Polis had been treated. But there were also some cheers from the crowd as he walked off, the fans acknowledging what he had done for the team in the game. But Polis didn’t care; he couldn’t get Chambers’ body lying out cold on the field out of his mind.




    IC: Gark S’rily

    Gark stared down at the field from the box as the punch came, and Chambers went down. Polis had been tossed from the game, and he wasn’t happy with it. Gark had groaned the ref didn’t understand that it had been a bang-bang play; Polis had never intentionally done something like that. It wasn’t his character to make cheap hits.

    But his eyes hadn’t moved from Chambers. The legendary goalie was still down; how could this be? The great Chambers had been knocked out cold? There was no way to describe the situation in words . . . here she was, out cold in her last Rim War game. Her professional career certainly seemed to be over . . . she didn’t even get to finish the season . . .

    “Rough way to go,” Londy Whiste, the team “owner”, commented.

    “Yeah,” Gark replied. “Yes it is.” He was still stunned by this turn of events.




    IC: Polis Vayne

    Polis watched the rest of the game from the locker room. The Senators managed to pull out the 27-22 victory over the Smugglers . . . but the victory seemed hollow. Quillan Sands hadn’t been nearly as good as Chambers in goal for Nar Shaddaa, and it had showed. Max Qorbus had been a certified star in the game, scoring a hat trick on the day and making the Smuggler defenders uncomfortable all game long. Polis himself had scored eight points, which typically made the Senator veteran happy. But for some reason it just felt hollow. When the team returned to the locker room, Polis just sat through the final pep talk from Coach Korthe and then walked out with the rest of the team without saying a word.

    Outside the locker room, the press made sure to corner him.

    “Polis, did you intentionally knock out Chambers?”

    “No,” Polis said stubbornly. “It was a knee-jerk play, and I was trying to get all ball. I had no intention of hitting her.”

    “Polis, do you feel the ejection was fair?”

    “Not then,” Polis replied. “But I can see why the ref called it. It looked pretty nauseating on the vidscreen, so I don’t blame him for making the call.”

    “This was Chambers’ last Rim War game. Do you feel like her absence helped you win the game?”

    “It probably did . . .”

    “Will you apologize to Chambers?”

    “Ye . . .” Polis said, but he was then cut off.

    “Was knocking out Chambers part of your strategy?”

    This ticked Polis off completely. “No!” he snapped. “How dare you say something like that?”

    “I . . .”

    “Look,” Polis snapped, cutting off the reporter. “Meredith Chambers, even for how much our teams hate each other and have always fought tooth and nail for every bit of turf, is worthy of respect from all of us. She’s arguably the greatest goalie in this generation, if not longer than that. She has just dominated the last dozen or so years, won three titles, MVP . . . you name it, she has it. If you’re suggesting that I knocked her out in order to win the game, in order to stroke my ego, I oughta tell you something right here, right now. I’ve always been my best against the best competition, and Meredith was always a real challenge to play against. When she was on her game, she was lights-out, and I’ve witnessed that first-hand many a time. She earned my respect a long time ago . . . on that last play, even though she was in a bid situation, she never gave up. I could never take a fastball right in the face like that and keep fighting. She has a ton more heart than I ever will out on that field, and you can quote that as much as you like, I don’t care. But to knock Chambers out . . . that’s a tough pill to have to swallow, beyond the ejection. I do not condone my actions; it’s not something that I want anyone, anywhere, emulating, because it only causes problems. I made a mistake while making a routine play, and I’ve obviously caused more harm than good in doing so. So I hereby express an apology to Meredith for what I’ve done here today, and to the entire Smuggler team and fanbase for robbing them of their star goaltender.” He then walked past the throng of reporters, not looking back as they tried to chase him down before being stopped by some of the other Senator players and looked for interviews.




    Polis looked down at the flimsy, unsure of what to write. Thoughts flooded through his head . . . what should he say? Finally putting the pen to paper, he began to write.

    Meredith,

    I don’t really know how to say this, but I’ll keep it short. You’ve always been a really good opponent; every year, I’ve marked my calendar with the Rim War game because I knew that I would get to play against the best goalie in the game. And I don’t say that lightly; you‘ve been the best opponent I’ve ever played against, and I was always forced to mix up my strategy because I knew you would always be firm in goal.

    I just want you to know that I never meant to harm you in any way on that last play. I’ve felt terrible about it ever since, and I know that you probably won’t believe me for saying this, but I’m very sorry about my conduct out there on the pitch. I don’t want there to be any animosity between us, because I’ve always respected your tenacity in goal and in life, and I just want you to know that I’ll do whatever I can to support you through these tough times. I probably won’t get to ask you in person any of this, but I would like to know anyways. I owe you one (or maybe a few) for today’s misfortune; if there’s anything I can do to help, I’ll be more than willing to be of assistance. Just give me a call, and I’ll see what I can do.”

    Sincerely,

    Polis V.


    Down at the bottom of the note, he scribbled his comlink number. He doubted that Meredith would ever call, but he wanted to at least make the gesture. It was up to her if she wanted to accept it.




    First Republic Hospital, Coruscant

    Polis walked in the door at the hospital, note and flowers in hand. It had seemed odd to have to go to a floral shop, especially since he was universally recognized on the planet, but he had gotten out quickly and kept going.

    As soon as he hit the elevator, he heard his name called out. Turning around, he saw Dirxx sidling towards him, still wearing his usual Senators gear. “What are you doing here?” Polis asked.

    “Probably the same reason you’re here,” Dirxx replied. He then looked down at what Polis was holding. “Geez, I didn’t think you were going to go all in on this,” he remarked. “If I didn’t know you, I would say that you were trying to score a date with Chambers. Real smooth.”

    “What?” Polis asked, shocked. Then, he calmed down. “Look, what male into Limmie hasn’t thought about going out on a date with her? I’m sure you’ve thought of it, hot shot. I know I have . . . back in the day . . . fine, I still do . . . but still . . .”

    “You’re still having a hard time convincing me,” Dirxx commented.

    “Look, I’ll just ask her if I can repay her by taking her out for a night on the town. She’ll probably want to kill me for that, if not just because of that hit,” Polis replied cynically.

    “Smooth, Polis, real smooth,” Dirxx repeated. “Trying to get fresh with the ladies now? I like your style.”

    Polis wanted to slap a palm to his face. Dirxx was obviously getting a real kick out of this conversation. “The flowers are just to show that I appreciate her as a player and a person. Nothing more. If there’s any love between the two of us . . . which I’m not saying there is, because I don’t . . . she'd have to be the one to profess interest in me, and I don't think that's happening after today, so I'll just leave it at that.”

    “But you do find her attractive,” Dirxx said.

    “Well, yeah,” Polis replied. “She’s my kind of girl. Firm, calm and collected, smart . . . yeah. But I wouldn’t have a chance, especially now, so I’m just going to send this along as a fellow Limmie player. Makes my neck a little bit safer than to blatantly go out and say ‘Hey Meredith, I’m sorry I knocked you out cold in that game today. On the bright side, can I ask you out on a date?’ She’d kill me before I could walk out the door. So I think it’s better this way, even if I do find her attractive.”

    “Then what’s the note for?” Dirxx asked.

    “Apology,” Polis replied. “I figured I wouldn’t be able to talk to her in person, so I wrote down my message on flimsy.”

    When the elevator arrived, both men climbed in. Reaching the right floor, they approached the correct door, but were told by doctors that they weren’t permitted in. Polis just shrugged and asked if the doctors could at least take the items he had brought in with him to Chambers. He hated to come out all this way and not be able to deliver the items in some way.

    On the way out, Polis just kept his hands in his pockets.

    “So, road game next week,” Dirxx said. “Long way out to Mandalore.”

    “Yeah,” Polis replied. “It’s about time we finally win one of these games. Can’t lose like last year and then have to scrap to stay alive in the playoff hunt. This is our last year; let’s go out with a bang.”

    “I hear you on that,” Dirxx said.

    TAG: @Liam_Vehn, @Bardan_Jusik (for next week's game)
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  17. Vehn Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Sep 14, 2009
    star 4
    IC: Meredith Chambers

    First Republic Hospital, Coruscant

    “Can you feel this?” The doctor asked as he pushed the tip of a pen into Chamber’s left big toe.

    This was the big test. This was the test that determined if she was paralyzed from the waist down. This was the test that could define one way or another whether she could even finish out the season. The symptoms of concussion had gone, that was fortunate, there hadn’t been any nerve damage, another blessing, but even still, potentially damaged vertebrae in the neck was no laughing matter. All she could think about as she lay in the bed at First Republic Hospital was how she must have looked on the Holonet, a limp rag falling to the Limmie pitch, out cold, by the hand of Polis Vayne. Somehow, in some twisted sense, that was fitting.

    “Meredith? You with me?”

    “Yeah,” Meredith replied, still a little groggy from a lack of sleep.

    “Can you feel this?” The doctor repeated.

    Something cool, metallic pressed into her toe, sending a nerve firing up her leg and into her spine. Meredith smiled, laughed a little bit, a laugh to release stress, to count her blessings. “Yes, thank Maker, yes!”

    The doctor smiled and put the pen away. “You were lucky out there. Had you been hit a little harder, well, you might be in a coma, permanently.”

    “So can I play again?”

    “Perhaps I was a little carried away with my original prognosis. I know you’ve got another big game coming up in a few days. Honestly, your neck is healing very well. We’ve used the best technology we have to speed your recovery. I’m not saying that you’re going to be 100% but even Meredith Chambers at 75% is better than half the league’s goalkeepers,” the doctor admitted.

    “You a fan?”

    “No, personally, I’ve never really liked you, Meredith. I bleed black and orange, you understand. I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but I’ve always had a thing for Jayla Leed,” the doctor said.

    Meredith laughed. “I’m not going to be winning the Duchess Eldrin Award anytime soon. I was never one of the popular girls. I just played hard and crushed whoever stood in my way. I think this time, however, Vayne’s fist was more a fist of fate. A fist to remind me what really matters.”

    “Your father signed your release papers a few minutes ago. I think you need to take it easy. I wouldn’t recommend playing in the Black and Blue Battle, and legally I couldn’t, but off the record, if I were you, I’d take it to those Miners in a few days,” the doctor said with a smirk.

    The doctor turned to leave and then paused at the door. “Vayne and Horste stopped by earlier. Polis seemed pretty shaken up by the turn of events. Cold clocking the best goalie in the Outer Rim probably brought him a lot more grief than admiration. When you get a chance, why don’t you float him a letter, you never know where it might lead.”

    “Thanks, Doc,” Chambers said as she accepted the flowers from a nurse.

    She smelled the flowers, thankful to even have the sense of smell, and came to the conclusion that Vayne had great taste. They were flowers from Hapes, a planet she hadn’t been to since her childhood. But she remembered these flowers well. She’d pick them when she would go with her parents into the high country. How did he know? Maybe someone on the Smugglers told him, Luy’kin, probably.

    She opened his letter, read it, and read it again. The guy could write well, for a Senator. For a brief moment, she thought there might be something more to these flowers than a simple apology. Did the guy really dig her? She folded the letter, contemplated that point. She did find Vayne attractive. The guy had always played hard, the pair going toe-toe on numerous occasions. Maybe a night out on the town could turn her life around. She could find a reason to like a member of the opposite sex again. Vayne wouldn’t be a bad catch, now would he? After all, what would life after Limmie be like? Wouldn’t it be nice to share that experience with someone who had also left the game behind?

    Meredith groped for her datapad and hammered out a message to Vayne.

    To: Polis Vayne

    From Meredith Chambers

    Subject: Hey There

    Polis,

    If you think sending me flowers is going to smooth things over between us, forget about it. Though, I will admit, you’ve got great taste for a man of the black and orange. I just wanted to say that you don’t need to worry about my well being. I’m fine, really, I am. Everyone gets knocked out in games, right? Happens to us all, just some games are more important than others, you know how it goes.

    Anyways, I guess what I’m trying to say is that you don’t need to apologize. This is Limmie, hard hits are expected. I’m just thankful to still be walking. The doctor’s say I’ll heal up well. So, don’t beat yourself up over the hit. Just part of the game.

    I want you to know that I don’t hate you, never have. In fact, I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime. You know, grab some drinks, watch a horrible Holo, see some really bad high school Limmie? Attached to this message is a comlink number. Give me a call sometime when you’re not busy setting your team up for a playoff run. I don’t think I’d want to go out on a date with anyone but a competitor, someone else who understands the passion and fire of the game. Right, now that that is out of the way, good luck out there and thanks for the kind words.

    All the best,

    Meredith

    “You ready, Meredith?” Her father asked, jacket slung over his arm.

    “Yeah,” Meredith replied with a smile as she slowly stood and headed for the door.

    “You okay?”

    “Yeah, fine,” Meredith said.

    “Sure?”

    “Okay, so this guy who clocked me on the pitch sent me flowers and I asked him out on a date. Am I crazy?”

    Daniel Chambers laughed and put an arm around his daughter. “A date with Polis Vayne? Did the ninth hell of Corellia freeze over? Maybe it did. Anyways, if he responds favorably, I wouldn't turn that opportunity down. You'd be crazy to do that.”

    “Yeah,” Meredith replied with the slightest hint of a smile, “I would, wouldn’t I?”

    Tag: @Jedi Gunny
    Last edited by Liam_Vehn, May 16, 2013
    Jedi Gunny likes this.
  18. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 5
    IC: Ayn Dormingale
    Nar Shaddaa



    Ayn woke up in one of the three best hotels on Nar Shaddaa. In most cities on Bakura, the three best hotels would have been a matter of debate. There were usually enough excellent accommodations to warrant such an argument. However, Nar Shaddaa was quite unlike Bakura. On the Vertical City, it was easy to know what the three best hotels were because most of the other ones were establishments that Ayn Dormingale couldn't have been paid to stay in.

    This one, the Commerce Hotel, known commonly as the Commerce, was located in a newer section of Nar Shaddaa. It was here that the commercial interests fostered by the RTO had clustered together. During the years that the RTO had been in control of Nar Shaddaa, they had fostered quite a bit of new economic development. Nar Shaddaa had become the primary import/export point for the RTO with the Hutts and as a result there had been great profits to be had. Now, however, the Vertical City had been returned to its original owners thanks to the treaty signed by Eleanor on behalf of the RTO with the Hutts. It was payment for the Hutt support of the RTO government against Speyburn's revolt--a nearly successful one. The Hutts had gained a developed, prosperous point of commerce with their new free trade partners, one that was literally in the orbit of their own center of political activity. It was not such a bad deal for the Hutts. This new section of Nar Shaddaa was where credits were being made, where people with means lived, and where people without means wanted to live.

    In short, it was Ayn Dormingale's kind of place.

    She sat on her bed a shimmersilk kimono wrapped around her and looked out at her view. By her standards, it was all right. By Nar Shaddaa standards, it was fantastic. She wasn't really thinking about it though. She was thinking about what had happened with Everett North. Even though it was a week ago, she couldn't stop going over it in her head. It wasn't anything she hadn't done before, but she knew this was different. She'd been trying not to have one night trysts like that because she knew that kind of behavior was never going to win her Declan...but all her efforts had been for naught. He had still fawned over Durst as if to say that all her efforts were for naught. What did it matter then if she shared an evening with North? Ayn knew the answer to that. It wasn't what she wanted. That's why it mattered. She wanted Declan.

    Ayn sighed. Declan would probably never know about her sleeping with North. And if he did know, what would it matter? They weren't together. She could do what she wanted. But she knew that it wasn't making her into the person that she needed to be to be with Declan. It had been a mistake, one she couldn't take back, but a mistake that was not fatal.

    Dormingale got off of the bed and opened the closet. She took out the dress she'd brought for today's game and held it against her body. Yes, it was the dress for today.



    Ayn positively slinked in her dark blue cheongsam as she crossed the visiting owner's box at Six Boroughs, which was definitely not in the nicer part of the Vertical City. In fact, Ayn had splurged on a private speeder to get to the stadium. It was only a splurge by Nar Shaddaa standards, however. The cost of living was much lower than on Bakura, so her credits went further here. Even so, she wouldn't have minded the extra expense for the peace of mind that she had when going to and from the stadium. Even if the RTO had rejuvenated Nar Shaddaa, there were still unsavory elements here.

    "Ayn, new dress?" Declan said, giving her an appreciative once over. That was...surprising.

    "You haven't seen it?" Ayn said appreciatively, "It's a favorite."

    "It fits you nicely," Declan said.

    "Why thank you. I love the high collar."

    "And a perfect color too," Regan said, "Glad to see you still came, Ayn. The trip to Nar Shaddaa is a long one and it's not exactly a vacation spot." Ayn knew that Regan was referring not to the distance involved in this road game, but to their guests from last week. However, her comment regarding color had to do with the fact that all of the Triestes were wearing dark blue with only hints of gold here and there. It seemed the Noble House took the name of this rivalry game as seriously as the players who tried to inflict dark blue bruises on their opponents.

    "Sorry for being late," the Chancellor said, entering the box, before explaining, "I was delayed at customs. You can put it over there." This last sentence was directed at a droid that was following her with a container.

    "They made the Chancellor go through customs?" Ronan asked incredulously.

    "I insisted. After making a stink to Eleanor about the tariff loophole I had to make sure that I paid the proper taxes on that," Kerry said as the droid set the container down.

    Ayn was naturally curious as to what was inside the container, but she knew that she would find out in time. It was best to wait until then.

    The Chancellor said all the usual hellos, including with Ayn. "A very ambitious dress," she said.

    "I hope that's a compliment," Ayn said.

    "Yes...I think it is," Kerry Trieste replied with the barest hint of a smile.

    "Chancellor, a question, if you'll indulge me," Ayn said.

    "Of course," Kerry said as a droid handed her a drink.

    “How did you get full control of the team?” Ayn asked, “After all, I rarely see the cousins here.”

    “Aine’s shares were split when she died. Her 51% broke neatly into 17% thirds,” Kerry said, “We bought them out.”

    “Chancellor, an urgent comm for you from Coruscant,” the droid said gently over her shoulder.

    “Please excuse me,” Kerry said.

    When Kerry was gone, Ayn felt a light touch on her shoulder. “My sister does not often talk about how the Noble House got all of the Miner shares, at least not more than she just told you,” Regan said quietly, “but I believe that the moment that she became Taoiseach, she coveted those shares. And, in typical Kerry Wyvern Trieste fashion, she waited…”



    255 ABY
    The Prime Minister’s Gallery, Executive Mansion, Marian Square, Salis D’aar, Bakura

    Shikef Trieste was cousin of some degree to the Prime Minister, though not an especially close one and he never bothered to keep straight exactly what Kerry Trieste was to him. He was the son of Aine Trieste, cousin to Kerry's father Fionn. Even so, Shikef rarely saw his distant cousin. The two branches of the family kept to themselves, though Kerry was their Taoiseach. Still, it was an anachronistic feature of the family that Shikef thought meant very little—except when it came to the vast fortune that the Taoiseach inherited. Though all of Kerry’s predecessors had tended to that fortune very carefully, Shikef would have enjoyed himself on the family money if he’d had the chance. He never reflected that it was for precisely that reason that he would never be Taoiseach.

    It was a great surprise to Shikef when he was invited to Marian Square to meet his cousin. He had never been to the Executive Mansion and its simple yet inspiring style impressed him. He had to admit that Marian Sweetwater, for whom the neatly planned plot of government buildings and public park was named, had known what she was doing when she ordered that the Prime Minister should have her own set of offices separate from the Senate.

    Shikef was shown in to the Prime Minister’s Gallery where he waited amidst the portraits of great Prime Ministers, including one of both Fionn Triestes, for a minute and a half before his cousin came in. “Shikef, thank you for coming,” Kerry said, embracing her cousin lightly, “Something to drink?”

    “No, thank you. How can I be of help?” Shikef asked as Kerry motioned for him to take a seat as she did so.

    “I hope this will not cause you any embarrassment, but I’d like to cut to the chase. It’s reached my attention that recent business ventures have not gone well for you and you are somewhat overextended as a result,” Kerry said bluntly.

    “Well, yes, but all is not lost yet,” Shikef said. The truth was he was quite overextended, but had no interest in admitting it to his cousin.

    “I have been told that you put your shares in the Miners up as collateral,” Kerry said neutrally. That information had not been made public. Kerry’s knowledge of the fact visibly surprised Shikef. Forestalling a question, Kerry added, “Discreet communications were made through friends I have in the banking industry. They felt I would appreciate knowing about it.

    “The fact remains that you are in danger of losing your holding, which the bank would sell in time. That is something that the Noble House would not like to see happen. I imagine that your brother and sisters would agree that it would be best not to have outside investors meddling in the team’s affairs. Accordingly, I would like to present you with a proposal.” Kerry produced a datapad. “I would like to purchase your share of the Miners at what our analysts believe is a fair market value, plus twenty percent. That will cover your debt to the bank and ensure that you have a fair chunk of credits to prudently invest for you and your family. It keeps the Miners in the family and we are all happy. You will of course be welcome in the owner’s box when you so desire.”

    Shikef was blown away by the concise presentation of the proposal, Kerry’s knowledge of the financial situation, and the relatively calm demeanor in which she spoke. He hesitated. The Miners were a huge source of income for him (his largest, in fact), but Kerry was correct—he was on the verge of losing it anyways. In fact, he was closer to seeing it taken from him than Kerry thought he was. It was almost a foregone conclusion that the bank would seize the asset in the near future and he’d get nothing. With that in mind, he signed the contract.

    “I’ll see to it that the necessary funds are transferred without delay,” Kerry said. She stood and shook Shikef’s hand. “Sorry that this has to be the way it is, but I’m glad that the House was able to step in and do a favor for you.”

    Shikef mumbled his thanks and left. Kerry remained in the Prime Minister’s Gallery for a moment. She had been monitoring her cousins and their finances ever since she became Taoiseach. The former limmie player had wanted full control of the Miners for some time and she had been patient enough not to tip her hand and wait for the opportune moment. If her other two cousins ever slipped up, she’d be waiting there to make a similarly generous offer. At least now she didn’t have to court any of them to get anything done. She had 66% of the team now. She’d make the decisions on how the team was to be run now and they could deposit the checks.

    Kerry very much enjoyed her executive power in whatever form it took.



    “So that explains how she got majority control, but what about the other two cousins?” Ayn said.

    “That…” Regan said. She paused to sip her drink. “Well…that took a war.”

    “You mean they didn’t sell easily?” Ayn said.

    “No,” Regan said, “I mean it took the Civil War.”



    256 ABY

    The Bakuran Civil War had started over one of the galaxy’s oldest concerns: aurodium.

    New aurodium deposits in the northern polar counties had been discovered during Kerry Trieste’s first administration. At the time, Trieste was busy trying to dig Bakura’s federal government out from the mountain of debt that her predecessor, Yeorg Shrubb, had accumulated in fighting the G’rho War with the Republic—an unnecessary war it was now being viewed as.

    The aurodium was Kerry’s way to retire the debt. She made a modest tax on mining a cornerstone of her 256 reelection campaign. Some beings didn’t like that. They thought it would stifle the economy. When Kerry won reelection, these beings were not happy. Enough of them were unhappy that their counties voted to secede from the federal government, what was now referred to as the Federal Union of Counties. They formed the Maple Flag Republic, which had the unique feature of occupying both poles of the planet, sandwiching the Federal Union in between.

    Battles had yet to begin on the planet’s surface (though Commander Fiona Westenra had shed the first blood of the conflict when she enforced the Defense Fleet’s blockade of the space above the Maple Flag counties), but Kerry Trieste had not set all her hopes on winning on the battlefield.

    She wanted to win this war in the courts too.

    Already her attorney general Kirk Equus, husband to former PM Indra Equus, had successfully argued in Republican court that the Republic could not order the Federal Union to end the blockade on free trade grounds because the civil war was an internal matter. However, Kerry knew that the Maple Flag Republic had one very major disadvantage: it lacked major economic centers. Salis D’aar, Gesco City, Cape Suzette, and even Atalanta were all outside of Maple territory. Sure, they had Nouvelle Orleans and Golden Prairie, but they were very minor compared to what the Federal Union had in its counties.

    In fact, many of the wealthiest supporters of secession had property in the Federal counties and while they could not physically access it, there were less scrupulous financial agents that were enabling a flow of resources through external accounts. The answer for such a thing was simple: take away the source of income entirely.

    On Kerry’s orders, Equus drafted the Hostile Asset Seizure Program (or HASP), which authorized the Federal government to seize assets held by citizens in open support of the insurgent counties or others giving aid to the insurgents to then be sold at auction by the Federal government to loyal citizens of the Federal counties. The Maple Flag Republic went ballistic when the Senate, led by Deputy PM Sabé Dorminglae, passed the measure and Equus’s Ministry of Justice began seizing assets, which were slated to be sold at auction by the Exchequer under the supervision of Orn Captison. The lawsuit filed by the Maple Flag Republic against the Federal government in the Republican Federal Court was dismissed pursuant to the earlier ruling that stated that the Civil War and its attendant actions were internal matters to Bakura. The suit filed in the Federal courts had little chance of succeeding.

    Of everything seized, the most notable asset was two shares of the Bakura Miners limmie club. As it turned out, Aine Trieste’s two children who still had a stake in the franchise (Zarina and Pellan Trieste) both were citizens of seceded counties and had publicly supported the Maple Flag Republic. In a shocking turn of events, they suddenly found their primary source of revenue stripped from them. The Noble House of Trieste, represented by its very able lawyers from Crane, Poole & Schmidt, quietly filed a suit in the Salis D’aar court system, where the Miners were incorporated. The House’s lawyers stated that the Noble House had the right of first refusal according to the original partnership agreement under which the Miners had been jointly purchased in 209. This meant that any sale by the Federal government had to give the Noble House of Trieste the first chance at buying the Miners. The seizure of these shares by the Federal government, Crane, Poole & Schmidt argued, did not negate the contract.

    The court agreed and the Noble House subsequently paid the Federal government of Bakura a tidy sum, later reported to supposedly be 70 million credits, for the 33% share of the Miners that it had seized.
    The Noble House of Trieste, as managed by Taoiseach Kerry Trieste, was now sole owner of the Bakura Miners.



    “And that is how my sister in one fell swoop cut the financial legs out from under the Maple Flag Republic and got what she had long desired,” Regan said quietly to Ayn.

    “Forgive me,” Kerry said as she returned to her box, “A minor matter. Had you asked a question, Ayn?”

    “I think I’ve lost it,” Ayn said with a smile. Ayn Dormingale thought that she had heard that Kerry Trieste was a savvy operator. After all, her grandmother had been Kerry’s partner in so many legislative undertakings. Ayn knew full well what it had taken to get all of that done. But today she discovered she had an even deeper respect for the Supreme Chancellor Kerry Wyvern Trieste. Ayn realized that she was not a being to be trifled with. And for that, she had Ayn Dormingale’s respect.



    (Start at 0:20)

    "I believe the Miners are about to come out," Ronan called over his shoulder.

    The Triestes and Ayn filtered to the front of the box. This time Ayn made sure she was at Declan's side as the Miners came out of the tunnel--surprisingly in their home dark blues. That was probably going to cost them a timeout in each half. In fact, Valerii had already gone over to the referees and was conversing with them, nodding her head and shaking the hand of the head official for the day. It looked like she was generally agreeing with whatever he had to say.
    "I like the move," Kerry said appreciatively, "Meredith Chambers' last Black & Blue, unless we get them in the playoffs. We aught to do it right."

    As the Chancellor had pointed out, the Miner fans who had braved the trip to Six Boroughs would probably never see one of the greatest goalkeepers of all time. Ayn idly wondered what tickets had gone for to today's game. The Smugglers had been tight lipped on whether or not Chambers was going to play after her shocking injury on Coruscant last week. It would be a real shame if she didn't play, but Ayn knew that Chambers had other things on her mind now--a life after limmie. If ever there was a time not to take chances, this was it.

    As the Miners came onto the field, there were the faint strains of a song coming from their ranks. It was quickly picked up by the Miner fans at field level and passed through the stands, currently jockeying with the Mercs for top spot in the Solo Conference. Ayn couldn't help but laugh when she realized what it was.

    I met my love by the gas works wall
    Dreamed a dream by the old canal
    I kissed my girl by the factory wall
    Dirty old town
    Dirty old town

    "How did we not think of this sooner!" Siona laughed.

    The Triestes started singing and Ayn knew the song well. It was an old college song that was always used at away games. She and Declan had heard it when UBSD played at home almost every time. They'd given it back at just about every road game they went to (save Tiarest, which was in Salis D'aar too). Instinctively she threw an arm around Declan as she sang with him.

    Clouds are drifting across the Moon
    Cats are prowling on their beat
    Spring's a girl from the streets at night
    Dirty old town
    Dirty old town

    I heard a siren from the docks
    Saw a train set the night on fire
    I smelled the spring on the smoky wind
    Dirty old town
    Dirty old town

    I'm gonna make me a big sharp axe
    Shining steel, tempered in the fire
    I'll chop you down like an old dead tree
    Dirty old town
    Dirty old town

    I met my love by the gas works wall
    Dreamed a dream by the old canal
    I kissed my girl by the factory wall
    Dirty old town
    Dirty old town
    It's the dirty old town
    It's the dirty old town

    It was the Black and Blue Battle, one more time, in a true dirty old town.

    TAG: @Liam_Vehn
    Last edited by Trieste, May 16, 2013
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  19. Vehn Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Sep 14, 2009
    star 4
    IC: Nar Shaddaa Smugglers



    The Black and Blue Battle at Six Boroughs

    “You shake off last week, kid,” Sasha Luy’kin instructed as she put a furry hand on the young goalkeeper’s back.

    Quillan nodded, gulped, fought off his fear, fought off his nerves, wanted to stand tall in the tunnel for his teammates, but he realized he had big cleats to fill. Last week had proven that. Last week, the game had slipped away because he didn’t have the experience that Chambers had in the goalkeeper box. Now, he was being asked to start against the Miners. A lot was riding on this game. One more loss and it looked like the Smugglers would be out of the playoffs. A win, and well, the team had another shot to finish strong.

    The team ran out of the tunnel ahead of him. He was all alone. Alone to contemplate how the game would unfold without Meredith Chambers helping him along. She had taught him so much. He didn’t want to let her down, didn’t want to let the team down. He started to run out the tunnel when a strong hand held him back. He stopped in his tracks and turned to see who was keeping him from a long day at the office.

    “Hey, kid, mind if I get this dance?” Meredith asked, all suited up for the game.

    “They told me you weren’t playing! They told me you were on the verge of death or something!” Sands exclaimed.

    “Never believe what you hear,” Chambers replied, “You think a punch to the face is going to keep me down? This is the Black and Blue Battle, Quillan, you never miss this game, not even if you’re at home throwing up your guts. Got that?”

    Chambers started to run out the tunnel into the bright lights of the stadium.

    “Hey Chambers!” Quillan called, “I’m glad you’re back.”

    Me too, kid. Me too. Chambers thought as she strode out of the tunnel to the announcer yelling, “And wearing number 13, the starting goalkeeper for the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers,” the guy couldn’t even finish, the roar was so deafening.

    “Merrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeediiiiiiiiiiithhhhhhhh Chaaaaaaaaaaaaaaammmmmmmmmbeeeeeerrrrrssssss!”

    She raised a fist, pumped it several times in the air, as the crowd stood on their feet and applauded. Her teammates were totally surprised and gave her slaps on the back, high fives, and even hugs. She was still pretty sore from last week but she wasn’t about to let the Miners know anything about that. Makeup had done a nice job of covering up the shiner on her temple that Vayne had given her. Whether or not it would hold up under the hot lights and the intensity of this game was yet to be seen.

    The punch seen around the galaxy had rattled her cage a little bit. Made her feel more vulnerable than she had ever felt in her life, sure, her knee injury was pretty bad a couple of years ago, but something about having your lights go out really shook her hard. Maybe it was the telling admission that she was getting too old for the game. Maybe it was just a part of her that realized she wanted something more than a Galactic Cup to take home with her when this was all said and done, maybe she just wanted to have a family and start anew, and maybe she wanted to walk away from the game on her own terms and not turn into a vegetable in a hospital bed somewhere on Nar Shaddaa.

    Before settling in to the goal, Meredith strode over to the Miners sideline and extended a friendly hug with Glencross. Pulling back from Red, Meredith whispered,

    “Damn it Red, it pains me to say this but I care about you. Maker above, I do. You give me all you have tonight, you hear? Don’t you hold back anything! We battle as we’ve always battled, giving our all. I don’t want any pity. I don’t want any sympathy. I want you to give me your best shot. Win or lose, playing against you Glencross has been the highlight of my career. We haven’t always seen eye to eye, we haven’t always agreed on much of anything, but we have always played one another fair and square.

    “Years from now, I want to look back on this match and say I went up against the great Alana Glencross and fought hard to the very end. I need you to understand me, Red. I need you to understand that I’ve given body and soul to this game and I won’t let you or anyone else show me any special courtesy because of what happened last week. We play for the Old Whiskey Trophy tonight. But you know what we really want to play for and that’s bragging rights. So give me your all. I’m going to give you everything I’ve got, even if it kills me.”

    Meredith looked Red in the eye. Can’t you see how much this last rivalry means to me? She squeezed Glencross’s hand tightly in her own and ran back to her goal.

    Luy’kin gave her a look, so did Graves and the rest of the unit. “Don’t you start pitying me. You fight hard tonight! You hear me? You fight hard! I am not going to die on you, now go out there and kick some Miner rear!”

    Meredith tapped the goal post, smelled the grass below her, looked at the stands packed with burgundy jerseys. Maker, she loved Six Boroughs. It was filthy, it stunk, it was old, but it had seen so much in its time. It was the venerable old lady and what a privilege and an honor to have played under her bright lights, rickety stands, and peeling paint.

    Tonight was her final Black and Blue Battle.

    What a battle it would be.

    Tag: @Trieste
    Last edited by Liam_Vehn, May 16, 2013
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  20. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 5
    IC: Alana Glencross
    Six Boroughs Stadium, Nar Shaddaa

    The two captains stood just off the Miners' sideline. Their heads were close to each other so Alana could hear Meredith over the cheers of the Crew, the Smuggler faithful. Alana, for as much as she's run her mouth off over the years, knew when it was time to listen, and that was one of those times. Chambers finished and extended her hand to Glencross, who took it promptly.

    "I'm glad you cared to join us for the shindig," Alana said, "Wouldn't have been the same without you. And just because I like you, I'll tell the team to shoot high on you today. Up around the ears, you know?" Alana grinned and squeezed Chambers' hand hard. It was one last way of saying that Chambers would get her wish. Alana was going to give it everything she had. The pair parted. She went over to the Miners huddle, where Valerii had gathered the team.

    "They're going to be pumped with Chambers back there," Valerii was saying, "The first 10 minutes are going to be killer. Hang in there for the first 10 and we're going to fine--got it everyone?" She was having to yell inside the huddle thanks to the crowd noise. "Red--anything?"

    "Yeah," Alana shouted to her team, "Let's go light up Chambers like a Life Day Tree!"

    TAG: @Liam_Vehn
  21. Bardan_Jusik Mand'alor - Manager of the EUC, SWC and Spinoffs

    Manager
    Member Since:
    Dec 14, 2009
    star 10
    IC: Beskaryc Taab
    MandalMotors Hall, Manda'yaim. One week ago.

    Taab sat in a stunned silence. Even his boisterous nature had been subdued by what had just happened. He stared at the smoke that began to rise from the fire pit, smoke that would make an announcement to the Galaxy the results of the latest vote. He noticed it's grayish color, beautiful in its own right, a fine color for armor it would make he thought to himself as he smiled...




    The Nightly Show, CentralComedy HoloNetwork
    Holo-screens across the Galaxy. Present time.

    "From Central Comedy's Galactic News Headquarters on Stewjon, this is the nightly show with..." blared out from the screens to those watching the show at home. The "anchor" of the show was an old
    washed up comedian, a Bothan, who had taken over a show with flagging ratings on a rundown network and become a star. He was a celebrity throughout the Galaxy now, and must see TV for billions of
    young adults. It was a sad commentary on the state of the Galaxy that so many being, especially young sentients, used this show, a news parody, as their primary means of learning about the important events going on in the Galaxy, but it was still a highly rated show and every so often would actually get something right. Tonight was one of those nights.

    The Bothan started in after the theme music and applause from his live audience died down. "You know, we here on the Nightly Show take pride in that we are a fake news organization. It's a fun job, and when we get things wrong we like to think that it just adds to the fun. But when the real networks get it wrong..." An image of Softball's Orotolan host appeared above the Bothan's right shoulder along with the caption of "Mr. Tingles", "We make fun of it incessantly."

    The image faded out to a re-showing of the HNGBC coverage of the situation on Mandalore. The audience's laughter rising throughout as they of course now knew what had really transpired. The clip
    ended with the being's now famous tingle up the leg statement and the rising laughter exploded. The image went back to the chuckling Bothan host who melodramatically assumed a serious tone. "Of
    course we now know that no great Mandalorian leader was chosen and that the good folks from the lean coreward network just ****ed up and jumped in with their announcement in an effort to report the
    story first."

    The Bothan shook his head. "But of course they weren't the only ones." The image went back to mainstream media's coverage of the non-event, this time that of HNN. The Shistavanen host of their show was in the midst of commenting on the wispy smoke rising from the chimney at MandalMotors Hall. "Other networks are reporting that a new mand'alor has been chosen but we here at HNN just aren't sure yet. It certainly looks like white smoke, but it could be black too. I... we... well I just don't know. I am getting word now that yes a we too are going with a new mand'alor being chosen and we are projecting that it will be Dral Ordo..."

    The feed went back to the Bothan at the "news desk" on Stewjon, a toothy smile on his face now. "Oh really," he exclaimed as footage from both networks was simultaneously run, footage of the respective hosts retracting their stories as the real word got out. No mand'alor had yet been chosen.

    "Of course at least these two networks were covering this news at all," The famous Zeltron host of the Vornskr News channel appeared on screen above the Bothan's left shoulder to catcalls and whistles from the audience. VNC decided to fill out their broadcast with interviews from Galactic Idol on the night in question. He rolled his eyes.

    Becoming faux serious again he looked directly at the holocamera. "Of course none of this would be necessary if the Mandalorians weren't involved in the most hideously drawn out and boring leadership search of all time." Wording appeared above his head, Mandaborian Crisis. "I mean really, your backpacks have freaking jets on them and it takes you this long to find a leader?" He paused as the audience laughed some more before going on. "And seriously, smoke to tell us all that you have finally chosen someone? What's next? Cave paintings for official portraits? Even if you are going to use archaic smoke signals, you have to at least get that **** right so we can all tell what the **** you are doing!"

    The audience laughed again as the Bothan composed himself. Shaking his head he shrugged, "Meh...we'll be right back," and the show went to commercial.




    IC: Beskaryc Taab
    MandalMotors Hall, Manda'yaim. One week ago.

    ... as the others saw it too. The smoke rising from the fire pit was all wrong. When they burned, the ballots naturally let off a white colored smoke. An additive was thrown into the pit to turn that smoke black, announcing that the ballot had been unsuccesful. Not enough of the additive had been used, and now the smoke was a wispy grey color. It would be sure to cause confusion not only among the mando'ade but the aruetiise as well.

    Taab knew he shouldn't find it amusing but he did. All you could do was laugh at such a situation while those in charge of the ballot burning scrambled around trying to add more of the correct chemical. The smoke finally began to take on it's rightful black hue and rose slowly through the chimney, hanging over the exterior of the Hall. Taab could almost feel the collective groan of those outside. No leader had been chosen today, but Taab was happy that his own candidacy had lived on to fight another day.




    IC: Jaya "Barefoot" Tam
    Her Apartment, outskirts of Keldabe, manda'yaim. Present day

    Jaya lay back in her bed looking up towards the ceiling of her small apartment. She couldn't believe it had come to this, her rookie season in the ELL and she had yet to see a single minute. It wasn't her fault that the Mercs organization was so set in its ways that they couldn't see what tremendous amount of good she could do for them on the field. Their front office had drafted her, even traded up to do so, so they must have seen something in her that they liked, yet she had sat inactive for failing to follow their arbitrary rules.

    She had tried demanding a trade to no avail. In fact her demands seemed to have been arrogantly ignored by Vhett and the remainder of the front office. Were they really willing to let her rot on the inactive list rather than trade her talent away to another team? It had appeared that way to her. So she had taken the next step and lodged a formal complaint with the league office. A complaint that she had not heard back on yet. At least Broussard and the Crusaders had cooled off a bit which took some of the heat off of the Togrutan, but not enough. If she wasn't granted playing time by the end of this season she knew that she would have to quit. Maybe some team in the PLL would take a flyer on her and her unique situation...




    IC: Aay'han Vhett
    Team offices, Meshla Vhetin, manda'yaim. Present Day

    Vhett was furious as she looked out of her office window onto the field far below. The grounds crew was getting it ready for their match up with the Senators. They were always a tough team, and would no doubt be looking to avenge last years overtime loss in the Conference finals. But Vhett couldn't concern herself with that now. Instead she had to worry about a backup forwards shoes.

    She shook her head angrily, she had been forwarded a copy of the complaint to the league office by Tam's agent. This never should have gotten this far, she couldn't believe how stubborn the young woman was. It almost made her sound Mandalorian. She had her aide draft a reply of course, one stressing that the wearing of shoes on the pitch was a safety concern. The Mercs hadn't made a multi-million credit investment in Tam to have her feet spiked by the cleats of opposing players. She would wear the shoes, or she wouldn't play. End of story, at least as far as the Mercs were concerned. The message ended with a "We hope that the commissioner's office takes player safety concerns as seriously as we in the Mercs organization do." Let them just try to wriggle free of that Vhett thought to herself.

    Still it angered her that the commissioner was involved here. She had hoped that Tam would finally break, but her complaint told Vhett that wouldn't be happening. She sent a message to the team equipment manager, asking him if there was some solution he could work up to this mess. As Vhett waited for a reply to that query she thought back to this upcoming match up. At least Jett Hanson
    would be well enough to play. They hand't needed him to secure a victory over the Patriots the week before, but the Senators were another matter, and a win against them would set the Mercs up nicely for a return to the playoffs, a maybe even another run at the Galactic Cup.




    IC: Beskaryc Taab
    MandalMotors Hall, manda'yaim. Present Day.

    Black smoke again rose out through the chimney, there was still no mand'alor yet. Taab knew that things were getting testy among the mando'ade, especially after last weeks debacle. This conclave had gone on for far too long, but now the prize was in sight. The latest two rounds of voting had seen numerous candidates fall out of contention as votes continued to consolidate around just two of them. Taab and Ordo.

    Both of the prominent Mandalorians seemed to gain votes from the camps of those who fell out of the race, and tonight's vote had been no exception. It had seen the elimination of the last remaining viable option besides the pair of them. Now only Ordo and Taab remained. Taab knew his chances were still very much tied to his team's continued success. A home victory against the hated Senators may just propel him to the throne, while a loss could end his bid once and for all.

    TAG: @Trieste for ELL reaction to Jaya Tam's complaint.





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  22. Jedi Gunny Yahtzee Host

    Game Host
    Member Since:
    May 20, 2008
    star 8
    IC: Polis Vayne
    Mandalore

    The Coruscant Senators stood in the visiting team tunnel, ready to make their way out onto the hostile field on Mandalore. It was one of those venues that you never liked playing in; never mind the fans, who were suicidal in their own right. Polis fiddled with the earplugs that he always wore in loud stadiums. The Senators, ever since their first trip out to Keldabe many years earlier, had switched to hand signals as the primary form of communication in loud stadiums to combat the noise. Obviously something was lost in translation, but their success here had usually been enough to keep the naysayers quiet.

    Polis felt a meaty hand on his shoulder, and looked into the face of Dirxx Horstse, who was standing behind him. “So, since we’re all curious to know. Did Chambers ever call you back?”

    “Did you tell the entire team or something?” Polis asked.

    “Maybe I did,” Dirxx said, shrugging. But Polis could tell that he was being sly; of course the Besalisk had mentioned it.

    Polis just sighed. “For the record, she called me back.”

    “How’d that go?” Shayt asked from the side, butting into the conversation.

    “Fine,” Polis said. “Let’s just say that I’ve got myself a date in a few weeks.”

    “Hey!” Dirxx said, slapping Polis on the shoulder. “Well-played, my man! Well played!”

    “Just make sure not to rub last week’s win in her face,” Shayt commented. “Otherwise she’ll break your neck. Or I could, but I’d rather not since it’s not my problem.”

    “Don’t worry, I won’t,” Polis said.

    “Speaking of that, she’s in uniform tonight,” Dirxx said.

    “Really?” Polis asked. He hadn’t heard.

    “Yeah. Gotta hand it to her; she is one tough woman,” Dirxx replied. “You seemed to have picked a real doozy.”

    “Guess I have,” Polis said. But he had no time to think about that now; it was game time, and the Senators needed a win.




    IC: Gark S’rily

    Gark stared down at the field from the box. He hated this stadium; things just felt so disjointed when you had this many crazy bucketheads in the stands, not to mention the dimensions of the stadium itself.

    The trip out here had been uneventful to say the least, which at least made things more tolerable. Gark never liked coming here, but neither did anyone else in the League. Mandalore was not exactly a tourist destination, and the sooner the game got over and they could leave the better. Sleeping in a glorified tent was not something he thought made his day.

    All of a sudden, his mind shifted to home. Work had begun on the renovation of the club in his old neighborhood, backed by him in a secretive manner. He had no idea how the kids in the area were taking it, but at least he felt justified in his actions. He had also invited some of the kids to the game the next week against Rydonni Prime; perhaps that Chiss girl would be there. Imagine the shock on her face to see that the “guy” she met turned out to be the GM of her favorite team. Gark just smirked at this thought, but it was also more of a genuine thing than making an empty gesture out of haste. This wasn’t for any kind of award. No medal stood at the end of this tunnel for him, nothing of any sort to make sure he got “fairly compensated” for his time or expenses. No, this went beyond that. This work went into Gark’s guilty conscience. As a kid, he had promised himself that he would climb out of the slums and make something of himself in the big city. Well, now that he was there, he had completely forgotten about what struggles he had growing up. Doing this was the least he could do not just to silence his own personal demons, but also to give those kids a chance to be at their best.

    Then thoughts shifted once more to his wife. Now saddled with young Galin S’rily to have to deal with, Me’lin wasn’t exactly interested in sleeping in an outdoor tent by travelling with the team, so they had struck a deal that she would stay at home on this one. Gark wanted to be there with her, but the rigors of being a GM demanded that he be here with the team. At least this was only for a few days, after which the Senators would return home for a game, so it could be worse, he surmised.

    Then he thought about the playoffs. The Senators were sitting at 3-1, and a win here would boost their chances of making the playoffs. However, it seemed like in this situation the team always lost, which would make things much more interesting down the stretch. But the team had to take it one game at a time; they wanted to avenge the close OT loss here last year, so they had motivation. It was game time.

    TAG: No One
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  23. CPL_Macja Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Nov 29, 2008
    star 5
    IC: Jhym Ro’meo
    The Jhym Ro’meo Show, CHS Sport net

    At the show’s opening, Ro’meo talked right over his usual theme song, which was lowered to merely background noise, “Alright folks, we are jumping right into things today. We are midway through the limmie season, with only three conference matchups left, and things are starting to look interesting. In both conferences the playoff picture is still uncertain. In the Skywalker Conference it looks like the Storm are the early favorites with their undefeated conference record and nearly perfect overall record, but the rest of the conference is close behind with at even records all around. The only two teams in trouble and could be bounced after this week are the Jets and the Crazy Dragons.

    Over in the grudge match filled Solo Conference, the Mercs and Miners are sitting pretty with identical records, but there are a couple of scenarios in which the Cross Galaxy Clash will decide which team will go to the playoffs. The Monarchs and the Smugglers are not out of the hunt, even though they are sitting at the bottom of the conference. Their final match-up of the season could also determine who is in and who is out. Basically at this point it is anyone’s game, but Setarcos Rhemes is looking at it from a different angle. This is from his post match press conference after the Monarchs dropped their second straight conference game.


    I see it like this… from here until the Galactic Cup we are in single elimination mode. If we win we’re still in it for the cup, if we lose we can still spoil it for the next team we face. Trust me when I tell you that in the Solo Conference the next best thing to winning the whole shebang is ruining one of the other guys’ chances to win it all. There is no love lost among these six teams, even the returning Pats have a deep rooted disgust for all of us.

    As some of you may recall, the Chandrila Patriots were the perennial powerhouse of the Premier Leagues Core Conference, until 267. That was the one year the Monarchs played in the PLL and they, along with the relatively unknown Trantor Mules, ran the conference all the way to the Premiership, where the Mules had their revenge for losing the Core Conference to the Monarchs. In their only time facing each other, the Monarchs defeated the Patriots by 13, and they are hoping the Patriots don’t return the favor like the Mules did six years ago.

    In other league news, with all the hard, vicious hits being handed out around the league I am surprised that the only one that has warranted, not only an ejection, but also a suspension, has been the Cynd-Nazug collision with Hanson. This past week Meredith Chambers of the Smugglers got punched, I mean fist to face punched, by Polis Vayne of the Senators. Has the league issued out a suspension to Vayne? No. Will they? Probably not. Why? Because the Commissioner’s office is too busy trying to decide if they should allow Jaya Tam play barefoot to match her nickname.

    Meanwhile, on the grav-ball court…

    ----- ----- ----- ----- -----
    IC: Setarcos Rhemes
    Coach’s Viewing lounge, The Grande Villa

    Setarcos’s eyes were getting tired, he had been watching holo-footage of all of the Patriots recent matches. He was looking for any weakness that they could exploit, any crack in their schemes that would give them an advantage. But the more and more he watched he came to the realization that the Monarchs recent woes laid with their untested youth. They needed to figure something out and needed to figure it out fast.

    In the past, when he was Head Coach before, they the Blasters to pull from or even to rely on to give their young reserves some professional experience. But now he didn’t have that, all his youth were either starters or getting their chops busted in practice by the starters. Frustrated with his situation he turned the feed over to something else. Unfortunately it was the local entertainment news program Access Ryell Insider hosted by an overly exuberant Devaronian, Rian Seapeak.

    Great just want I needed, to hear this bozo.” He reached down trying to find the remote to change the feed once more when his hand was blocked by his Assistant Head Coach.

    Wait a minute, it looks like he’s going to talk about the Royal House of Rydonni.

    In other royal news, it looks like wedding bells maybe on the horizon for Kalin K’ntarr of Rydonni Prime and Lady Thara Adrimar of Byblos. Sources close to the couple have said that they are working closely with each other on a business merger and have speculated that the duo might also be working towards a personal merger as well. In other K’ntarr family news, Princess Naathe’s claim to the throne might be in doubt. As word of King Anorb’s failing health has leaked out into the public, the heads of the Royal Houses of Rydonni have convened to discuss whether or not the K’ntarr family will retain control of the monarchy. The root of their issue is the fact that the Princess is not married nor does she have any children of her own. Meanwhile there are rumors that the recently wed Duke and Duchess of Rythii, Waiphl and Cali M’nrydo, the second cousin of the princess, maybe pregnant. The happy couple is considered the front runners to take over the crown. If the Royal Families decided to give the crown to M’nrydo line, it would mark the first time since before the First Galactic Empire that a family other than the K’ntarrs has ruled Rydonni Prime.

    Suddenly the holo-feed cut out, “Enough of that babble. We need to figure out what exactly is wrong with the team and how to fix it.

    Julla came over and started to massage his shoulders, “Why are you stressing about it? We are a young team that is rebuilding. For Force sake are the newest organization in the entire ELL, you can’t expect us to compete for a Galactic Cup every season.

    Setarcos shook her hands from his shoulders, “WHAT THE FRAK? Have you lost your mind! You are the Assistant Head Coach of a top tier limmie organization in our first season in the PLL we went all the way to the Premiership. We lost only because our star Forward OD’ed on the field. Even in the ELL we’ve made it to the post-season three times out of the past five years. So yes, I can expect us to compete for the Cup every season.” He walked over to the doors that opened to his private lift and paused as he stepped inside, “You know what, I’m starting to think that I made the right choice not promoting you. You’re just not ready to lead an Elite League Limmie squad.” With that the doors closed, leaving Julla to think on Setarcos’s words.
    ----- ----- ----- ----- -----
    Patriots/Monarchs Pre-Match, Grande Villa

    I’m going to keep this brief again today. We have decided to officially place Greenly Zo on I/R until further notice, a nagging knee injury she sustained in practice three weeks ago is not healing as quickly as we suspected. There have been a numerous amount of roster moves between the bench and the starters which can be found in the press release we uploaded to all of your data pads as you came in today. Two of note are Laura Cynd-Nazug will be starting at midfield instead of Kelsei Seter, and Sugnok Umanh will be replacing Cora Xux.

    Also the team will be wearing black armbands for the remainder of the season in honor of our dearly departed King Anorb K’ntarr. So say we all.
    ” Setarcos then walked out amid shouted questions that all went unanswered.

    ----- ----- ----- ----- -----
    To: Dennett Halverson
    Rossum Bookmakers

    Mr. Halverson,

    I would like to place the following wagers:

    Chandrila Patriots at Rydonni Prime Monarchs: 100,000 credits on the Monarchs to win
    Bakura Miners at Nar Shaddaa Smugglers: 75,000 credits on the Smugglers to win
    Coruscant Senators at Mando’ade Mercs: 75,000 credits on the Mercs to win
    Vandelhalm Jets at Ylesia Lightning: 75,000 credits on the Lightning to win
    Ralltiir Starkillers at Onderon Crazy Dragons: 75,000 credits on the Starkillers to win
    Euceron Storm at Ryloth Rough Riders: 75,000 credits on the Storm to win

    Thank you and have a good day,

    Client 24601


    TAG: @Trieste
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  24. Jedi Gunny Yahtzee Host

    Game Host
    Member Since:
    May 20, 2008
    star 8
    IC: Jed Ortmeyer
    Thyferra Stadium at Byree Clearing

    Jed fist-pumped as Maff Biskis beat the Denon goalie for another 3-point shot. Biskis then flexed his muscles for the crowd as his teammates mobbed him. Jed had to hand it to the veteran player; although he had struggled while stuck in the same system for years with ELL players Zadd, Riff Persnor and Wylega Zola, he was now coming into his element. He had broken the 30-point mark on the season early on in this game off a nice feed from Dauza Chary, and the Demons just couldn’t stop him.

    When the game ended, the score was 28-6 in favor of the Force. The fans roared their approval from the stands as the victorious Force walked off the field. The defense had been lights-out all day; Tank Bratter, now without the help of Reena Wyley in the Back 6, had a great game, and teamed with the other half backs to shut down the defensive zone and press the Demon forwards. Reid Livingstone came in off the corner on many plays and hit hard like he was capable of. Kurta Thaar, a marginal goalie by all accounts, had done a good job today in only giving up 6 points. Not a bad defensive effort.

    On offense, the Force kept the ball moving and racked up the points. Biskis had scored his usual line of 10 points, while contributions came in from all over the Front 6 and midfield. Chary hadn’t scored, but had dished out several slick-looking assists that made the Demon defenders’ heads spin. Jed knew that the Nemoidian was starting to get into her element, and he intended to let the team ride her play as she heated up. Mychele Lysar, the long-time Thyferra captain, had chipped in 5 points, and had been a good leader in calling some of the plays and generally forcing the Demons to double-team her, which freed up the other forwards. In the middle of the field, the Force had won easily; Blutas and Dilvam had played shut-down offense and defense on the Demon middies, making their life miserable out there. Zak Pers had played decent minutes off the bench; it wasn’t perfect for the Helmsman finalist, but he was starting to get used to the pro game.

    Up next week was Shili, which although was currently sitting at 1-3 on the season, was still dangerous. Jed knew that he needed to keep his team on track in practice during the upcoming week to guarantee a good effort out there. A win here would push Thyferra closer to the division leaders, Kessel and Tatooine. A loss against the Runners still stung, but there was time to make up the deficit yet. Jed intended to seize this opportunity and make something of it. But Shili came first, and the Force would be ready.

    TAG: @JM_1977
    Last edited by Jedi Gunny, May 17, 2013
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  25. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 5
    GM Post
    Elite League offices, Coruscant

    "Who told the media about Tam's application?" Gondorf called from inside her office. It wasn't actually a question directed at anyone particular. Even so, she wanted to register to the universe that she was displeased Ro'meo had gotten wind of Tam's request to go without cleats. Furthermore, now he was hitting her about no action on Vayne. "Well you know what Jhym...you are going to get exactly what you asked for..."

    She opened a drawer of her desk and pulled out her makeup kit.



    "Hello, I am Elite League Limmie General Counsel Esther Gondorf," was how the holo started, "Last week in Game 23, Corusant Senators forward Polis Vayne delivered an illegal hit to Nar Shaddaa Smugglers' goalkeeper Meredith Chambers' head. The sequence of events started when Vayne took a shot in the goal box the bolo-ball. As you can see in the holo from this angle, Chambers clearly came forward out of the immediate area of the goal crease. Vayne leaves his feet in the act of shooting and Chambers does the same. Chambers then blocks the shot with her head, as seen here, at point blank range. Vayne's hand follows through in the act of shooting and makes contact with Chambers' head."

    An arrow appeared in the hologram indicating the point of contact.

    "Note that Vayne's hand is swinging down from an upward position as part of the follow through from the act of shooting."

    More arrows showing the path of Vayne's hand. The clip reset to another angle.

    "As you can see from this angle, Vayne closes his hand after release into a fist. Vayne then makes contact with Chambers' head, seen here. The trajectory of Vayne's hand is not directly into Chambers' face, which would have taken a different and more direct path."

    Arrows showing this.

    "Instead, Vayne's hand made incidental contact with Chambers' head, even if it wound up being the primary point of impact in the contact between. Vayne was ejected from the match by on-field officials.

    "To review:
    • Contact was made with the head
    • This contact was taken in the act of shooting
    • The trajectory of Vayne's hand was not directed principally at Chambers' head, but instead was incidental contact
    "As a result, the Elite League will not take supplemental disciplinary action against Polis Vayne for his actions in Game 23."

    "This has been a presentation of Elite League Limmie's Department of Player Safety."



    Dear Ms. Tam,

    The League has reviewed your request to be allowed to compete in Elite League games without the use of cleats. The League has reviewed the rulebook and at this time cleats are not listed as required equipment. However, the League does have the right to require you to sign the attached release of liability and waiver of right to sue that releases the Elite League and its member organizations from any and all legal responsibility and waives your right to seek damages in the event of injury. The League wishes to note that competition without recommended equipment is entered into at your own risk and peril.

    The League also wishes to note that member teams are entitled to suspend their players for violations of their contracts and/or team policies. Unless such a suspension is in direct violation of Elite League policies or rules, the League does not interfere in internal matters of its member teams.

    Sincerely,

    Esther Gondorf
    General Counsel
    Elite League Limmie

    cc: Aay'han Vhett

    TAG: @Bardan_Jusik @CPL_Macja @Jedi Gunny @Liam_Vehn
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