1. Oh hai Guest!

    Welcome to the RPF!

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

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

Moderators: Penguinator, Ramza
  1. CPL_Macja Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Nov 29, 2008
    star 5
    IC: Setarcos Rhemes
    K’ntarr Tower Penthouse, Rydonni Prime

    “Bennett Halverson, at your service,” she said, adding, “With a B.”

    As Setarcos shook her hand, his face flushed red with embarrassment when he realized that he had assumed she was a he and had been spelling her name wrong in messages for almost five years now. “Frak me, my sincere apologies for messing up your name all this time, Ms. Halverson?” He looked closer at her and could not help shake the feeling that he had seen her from somewhere before, then it dawned on him. “Pardon my bluntness but has anyone ever told you that you bear a striking resemblance to Gre Ta, Goalkeeper for the Balmorra Blasters? The similarity is uncanny.

    Before Setarcos could fully remove the egg from his face, Variise strolled around the corner wearing one of Setarcos’s button-down shirts without any of the buttons buttoned and lacking any undergarments. “So are you going to introduce me to your new friend or not Seta?” She leaned up against the corner, not worrying at all about her modesty. I guess that comes with the territory of having your name on the building.

    Setarcos straightened up and extended his arm towards Variise, “Allow me to introduce you to Variise K’ntarr, owner of the Rydonni Prime Monarchs. Variise this is Bennett Halverson, Executive Director of Rossum Bookmakers.

    Gods help me.

    TAG: @Trieste
    jcgoble3 likes this.
  2. Bardan_Jusik Mand'alor - Manager of the EUC, SWC and Spinoffs

    Manager
    Member Since:
    Dec 14, 2009
    star 10
    [IMG]

    Mando'ade Mercs Injury report:

    Jeem Daryc, Center half forward, questionable for week 7 at Bakura. (ACL Sprain)

    [IMG]
  3. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 5
    GM Post
    K’ntarr Tower Penthouse, Rydonni Prime

    "Gre Ta? Forgive me, my Premier League knowledge is a little light. Thank you though." She hoped that Ta was skilled at what she did, but Bennett doubted that she was very good looking. Well, it was a logical assumption from her point of view if a comparison was being drawn.

    Bennett shook Varisse's hand with a smith. "Nice to meet you, Your Grace...errr...Your Highness..." She wasn't entirely sure on the proper mode of address. Bennett looked at Setarcos. "Forgive me, would this be an inconvenient time to discuss business, Mr. Rhemes?" After all, even though Setarcos never bet against the Monarchs, Bennett wasn't sure if his employer would approve of his activities. It was still something of a taboo for many teams.

    TAG: @CPL_Macja
  4. CPL_Macja Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Nov 29, 2008
    star 5
    IC: Setarcos Rhemes
    K’ntarr Tower Penthouse, Rydonni Prime

    “Nice to meet you, Your Grace… errr… Your Highness…”

    Ms. K’ntarr will do. My cousin is the royality. Technically I’m a Baroness, but not using my title is fine by me.” Variise walked over to Setarcos, leaned on his shoulder, and whispered into his ear. “She’s cute, I want one. Do you think we can find a position that she could fill?

    Stop it,” Setarcos whispered back playfully.

    “Forgive me, would this be an inconvenient time to discuss business, Mr. Rhemes?”

    Of course. Ms. K’ntarr is fully aware of our business arrangement Ms. Halverson, after all she was the one that supplied the initial half million credit deposit. So what can we do for you?

    TAG: @Trieste
  5. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 5
    GM Post
    K’ntarr Tower Penthouse, Rydonni Prime

    "Oh!" Bennett said, "How convenient then I should find both of you." She lifted the case and put it on a table. Bennett placed her thumbs against the locks, which popped open. She lifted the lid of the case so it faced her and removed a datapad from the briefcase.

    "So, let's see...you took Rydonni Prime--congratulations--Bakura, Nar Shaddaa, Ralltiir, Onderon, and Euceron. So a gain of 125, 75, 75, cancel that 75, plus 75, less 75...comes to a net gain of 200,000 credits for the week. Congratulations. You started at an even million, apologies for the earlier error, so that's 1.2, less 500,000, that is..."

    Bennett turned the briefcase to face Setarcos and Varisse.

    Inside was half a million credit chips neatly stacked in a grid. Small denominations, nonsequential.

    "I thought you would appreciate a...less traceable funds transfer, given your position," Bennett explained.

    TAG: @CPL_Macja
    jcgoble3 likes this.
  6. CPL_Macja Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Nov 29, 2008
    star 5
    IC: Setarcos Rhemes
    K’ntarr Tower Penthouse, Rydonni Prime

    “I thought you would appreciate a… less traceable funds transfer, given your position,” Bennett explained.

    Setarcos looked down at the briefcase filled with credit chips, “I thank you for your thoughtfulness. If I knew you would be delivering my withdrawals in person, I would have made more before today. Perhaps I will need to make these transactions more often,” he said with a wink.

    You know, speaking of positions,” Variise said with a sly grin on her face, “there are going to be some holes in our organization. They will become apparent after Setarcos’s press conference tomorrow. Would you care to join us in filling some of these holes?

    Yes I think she would be excellent in one of the back office positions,” Setarcos answered whimsically, “Perhaps in the finance or cash control divisions. what do you say?

    TAG: @Trieste
    jcgoble3 likes this.
  7. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 5
    GM Post
    K’ntarr Tower Penthouse, Rydonni Prime

    Bennett looked from one to the other. This was...ummm...curious. "Thank you, but the numbers I'm best with are odds," Bennett said with simplicity, "I do what I do with Rossum because I choose to do it. It's something of a calling. Thank you though. Is there anything else?"



    Stoney End Park, Hanna City, Chandrila



    "We battled through the Premier League, through the GCLA, to get back to the Elite League for this day," Reina Kether told her team in the locker room, "The beings of Chandrila believe in you. I believe in you. Now go out there and kick some Senator tail."

    That was pretty much the entirety of her speech to her team. She had been a Patriot long enough to know that if they were truly Patriots, she wouldn't have to do any more than that. The reason was that the crowd at Stoney End would take them the rest of the way. She knew it in her bones, she knew it as someone who had once worn the green and white. She knew it for a surety.

    Kether was the last to enter the field, but as the team ran out in front her, she heard a song very familiar to her. It had been written in a day when this rivalry had been much worse. Not just worse--but bad. Very bad. As in there had been vibroknife fights in the stands. It had gotten to be such a problem that there had been a need to remind everyone to calm down, that this was, at its heart just a game. A game that, to those who played it, it meant everything, but a game all the same. It wasn't an actual war.

    The music was sweet in the head coach's ears.

    Oh, it is the biggest mix-up that you have ever seen.
    My father, he was Orange and me mother, she was Green.

    My father was Coruscanti, proud Senator was he.
    My mother was a Chandrilan, from Stoney End was she.
    They were married in two churches, lived happily enough,
    Until the day that I was born. Then things got rather tough!

    Oh, it is the biggest mix-up that you have ever seen.
    My father, he was Orange and me mother, she was Green.

    Baptized by into the Nation, I was rushed away by car,
    To be made a little Senator, my father's shining star.
    I was christened Lando Antilles, but still in spite of that,
    To my father, I was Jipoly, while my mother called me Pat.

    Oh, it is the biggest mix-up that you have ever seen.
    My father, he was Orange and me mother, she was Green.

    With Mother every Sunday, to Hanna I'd proudly stroll.
    Then after that, the Senators would try to save my soul.
    For both sides tried to claim me, but i was smart because
    I'd cheer for Pats or the Sens, depending where I was.

    Oh, it is the biggest mix-up that you have ever seen.
    My father, he was Orange and me mother, she was Green.

    One day my Ma's relations came round to visit me.
    Just as my father's kinfolk were all sitting down to tea.
    We tried to smooth things over, but they all began to fight.
    And me, being strictly neutral, I bashed everyone in sight!

    Oh, it is the biggest mix-up that you have ever seen.
    My father, he was Orange and me mother, she was Green!

    The crowd cheered as the song finished. It was sung equally by fans of both teams, the one tradition that unified them. Kether looked up into the boxes of Stoney End. She knew well and good where the visiting executives, including the General Manager, sat. She just motioned with her fingers to where she knew Gark S'rily would be.

    Bring it on.

    TAG: @CPL_Macja @Jedi Gunny
    jcgoble3 likes this.
  8. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 5
    IC
    Bakura



    Ayn looked out the window at the scenery zipping by on the high speed long distance monorail. With game time pushed to the late afternoon, she could make the game with a morning departure from Cape Suzette. The trip held none of its usual joy. Ayn’s usually perfect brow was furrowed by worry. The note from Declan had overshadowed the last week. He had essentially told her that it would be best if they didn’t see each other. But damn it, it hadn’t been her fault! She knew that didn’t matter, and she knew that it would have been just as bad if Durst had been on the scene. Perhaps if…things had happened with her Declan would have had a much different reaction. Perhaps he had run to her in the Valley.

    Ayn had no way of knowing. All she knew was that she had to talk to Declan, today. It was her last chance. The losses by Coruscant, Euceron, and Ryloth meant that the Miners had already clinched the Commissioner’s Trophy. There would be another home game at the Gardens in two weeks, the Conference Final. Miner fans were optimistic, but Ayn wasn’t. The Miners had not won a Galactic Cup Semifinal at home since the Crendan Era, let alone in the Kayl’hen Era. And given the atrocious defense the Miners were putting up, they seemed ripe for an upset when that game came. First in offense, last in defense…what a team. They did some things perfectly, and then they couldn’t do anything right other times.

    Ayn Dormingale sympathized greatly.



    Salis D'aar, Bakura

    Ayn stepped off the local monorail and looked at the large vidbanner on the front of the Gardens. Images of the Miners battling the Mercs slid through the screen until they faded into four words:

    "ONCE AND FOR ALL"

    The sentiment seemed ominous against the fact that there was nothing to be decided today...at least nothing that had to do with playoff seeding. Ayn felt, and hoped, a great many other things would be decided this night.



    GM’s box, Bakura Gardens, Salis D’aar, Bakura

    Quinn Cundertol had seen enough of the warm up. He saw that it appeared to be a typical warm up out of his head coach. Valerii did not share her game plan with her General Manager, which was fine by him. He gave her the pieces and expected her to make them work. He knew his pieces were excellent. There was still a championship inside them. Very much indeed.

    His mind was already thinking forward. Not to the playoffs, which for the moment were secure, but to 274. Though he had three contracts expiring this offeseason—including Glencross, who he knew had played the best bolo-ball of her career in the three year, 3 million a year contract they’d signed at the 271 Draft and would surely fetch more than that this negotiation session—his mind was focused on the seven that he had expiring at the end of 274. He had four draft picks in the 274 Draft and he was going to need all of them. It was this in mind that he’d given up his bevy of picks in what at the time had looked like a rather poor 273 draft class and gone in for the Mercs’ first rounder in 274.

    Andersen, Landa, North, Ruunron (what a disaster he’d been in his freshman year), T.K., Wizmark, and Waters. All of them coming up. There were big names there, big names that would require patching if he couldn’t sign all of them. He had a lot of credits tied up in Rodders, Stormborn, Alesh, and Morlan. To keep Glencross he was going to have dig deep too. That would severely limit his negotiating power. Damn Trieste and her internal cap. Why couldn’t she run the Miners like the vanity investment that they were? It was probably her brother the banker that insisted the team turn a profit.

    Cundertol left the small box reserved for the GM to see to last minute affairs. Briar Thorne was very good at day-to-day operations and would likely have things for him to review. She wasn’t a half bad scout either, as she’d proved on Bision. Cundertol knew she’d gotten overtures from other organizations to take the helm of her own program. Quinn made sure that her paycheck was large enough to at least give her pause before she bolted—and that would be enough time to retain her.

    With it being Truce Day, the Gardens were filling early. This was the day to be at a Miners game. Bakuran Senators put in for tickets and the Prime Minister made an appearance. This was going to be the Miners’ victory lap and the house was going to be packed for it. Even so, the VIPs up on the concourse didn’t speak to Cundertol. His Grames Award speech had not been forgotten. Many Bakurans had felt that it reflected badly on them. Even so, he’d brought the Cup to Bakura and now a Commissioner’s Trophy. They at the very least kept their distaste to themselves—and reminded others that Cundertol was born on Eriadu, even if he did have a Bakuran last name.

    But 274 was still hanging on Cundertol’s mind. He had the Mercs’ pick. The Mercs that the Miners would play today. He’d made a bet that they’d drop off a season after a Final appearance. If they won today, they would likely make the playoffs and that would hurt his draft position—especially since the rumors were that Cutter was not going to participate in the 274 draft. With the Smugglers out, it would enhance everyone’s position, but especially the Mercs. The Miners would have, at best, the third to last pick in the first round. The higher he could make that Mercs pick the better.

    And of course, that was when he ran into the first of the bucketheads. He flipped through his mental directory quickly. Black and gold armor. Of course.

    “Aay’han,” Quinn said curtly, “How lovely to see you on Truce Day.” He looked at her hard and expected from behind her t visor she was doing the same.

    “So, shall we begin?”



    Noble House box, Bakura Gardens, Salis D’aar

    Ayn entered the box to the sound of laughter. “Oh you know it’s got to be killing them!” Fiona was saying jovially.

    “Yes, a bunch of warriors who want nothing more than to shoot at things stuck in a room talking,” Siona said gleefully.

    “Though it does make for exciting stuff on the Holonet,” Oisin said, “The drama.”

    “Oh yes but what’s the drama. ‘Look! There’s smoke! What color do you think it will be?’” Mandy said, “That’s about as exciting as watching paint dry.”

    “Now there’s a way to choose a leader. Whose paint dries the fastest,” Ginny Lynd said.

    “All right, we’ve had enough fun at their expense,” Kerry Trieste said, “It’s not our fault that they don’t do something sensible like install democracy for their civic institutions. Besides, I was hoping to have their new Manda’lor over in the box for the game.”

    “Someone’s been working on her pronunciation,” Regan pointed out.

    “One of the things about being Chancellor. You have to work your tongue around unpronounceable things all the time,” Kerry replied.

    “But really, you’d have the Manda’lor in here?” Siona said, “You’d subject yourself to that?”

    “Absolutely. Just think about it, Taab would be so jealous that it wasn’t him sitting here,” Kerry said.

    “And what if it was Taab?” Ayn asked.

    “Oh, hello Ayn,” Kerry said, taking notice of her for the first time, “Well, if it was him, then I’d spend the entire day standing in front of that holo.” She pointed at the team photo of the 271 Bakura Miners.

    The Triestes laughed. Yes, that would sting Taab quite a bit, especially after last year. Ayn took the opportunity to look for Declan. The earlier she could talk to him the better. He was over with his Lynd cousins. Ayn slipped over to him.

    “Hello,” Ayn said with as much warmth as she could muster to suppress the butterflies in her stomach.

    “Hi,” Declan said with a smile, but a weak one.

    Ayn stepped in for a hug. It was not a very good one given the stiffness of Declan’s body. “Can we talk?” she whispered in his ear. The privacy of the comment was the reason that she was risking the contact at all.

    She pulled back from Declan. He hesitated. It was clear that he was not so interested in a private moment with her.

    “I…” he turned and looked over his shoulder, “Oh, looks like things are starting. We’d…better take our seats.”

    Damn it.



    Field level, Bakura Gardens, Salis D’aar

    Alana happened to enjoy watching holos in her spare time, so when she heard the audio through the locker room doors to the concourse, she knew that the AV team had decided to go with Loyalty Above All, the story of the Flurry in the Rebel Alliance starfigher carrier that was destroyed by the Imperials to break the truce forged to fight the Ssi-ruuk. It was a tragic tale, but one that foregrounded the dedication of the Alliance to defeating the common enemy.

    The hero was Captain Tessa Manchisco and this was her big speech to the ship and fighter pilots on the verge of combat—at least as the holos imagined it.

    “My fellow Rebels, not so long ago this ship participated in the action at Endor, action that seemed doomed to failure from the start. But today the Empire stands humbled, broken. We fought for freedom, for liberty, for our rights. We fought our fight.

    “If you think that today is not our fight, then you never understood what we fought for at Endor, at Hoth, at Yavin, or anywhere. Today we fight for our galaxy, for our brothers and sisters in gray uniforms, in orange jumpsuits, in all colors and of all species. We fight with those we loathed as principle of war because we fought for them, even if they didn’t know it.

    “Now we fight those who would take all of this away from us, who would enslave us to their machines, who would deny us our sentience and take our souls.” She paused and took a deep breath. “We fight this day together and show the universe that today something new begins. In the days that come we may tangle with today’s allies, but today we will fight honorably by their side and if we see them arrayed against us tomorrow…then we shall salute them as former comrades in arms who deserve our respect, and with whom we once won.

    “Manchisco out.”

    And with that the Miners crossed the concourse and ran onto the field, led once more by Alana, carrying a Bakuran flag to the cheers of the crowd. The patriotic holo clip had whipped them into a good mood in the late afternoon, beginning to darken into dusk. Another team, perhaps Alana would have let up off the accelerator, but these were the Mercs.

    The Ryi Kor’le-less Mercs.

    It was odd. She’d just disappeared. Hadn’t officially retired last Alana had heard, just gone. It made one wonder. Alana had to admit that it took a little something off of the match, especially after their epic bout last year.

    The Miners and Mercs lined up for the start of the game, which today included a salute to members of the Defense Fleet and Marines (with appropriate standing ovations) and personal handshakes for both teams from the Prime Minister of Bakura, who was not about to miss this opportunity to get his face all over the Holonet from one end of the galaxy to the other.

    “Gentlebeings, please welcome to the field from the Elite League, Esther Gondorf to present the Commissioner’s Trophy to Miners captain Alana Glencross.”

    Alana left the line to go to midfield where Gondorf was accompanied by an Ithorian who was holding the trophy for the team with the best regular season record.

    “Congratulations, Alana,” Esther said, shaking Alana’s hand. They smiled for the holos.

    “Shouldn’t the Commissioner present the Commissioner’s Trophy?” Alana asked skeptically.

    “She presents the Galactic Cup,” Esther said.

    “Then shouldn’t we rename this the Gondorf Trophy?”

    “I really don’t think that’s necessary.”

    “I think it’s got a ring to it,” Alana said, “Can we get a permanent marker or something? I’ll do it right now.”

    “Let’s not.” Gondorf waited. “So are you going to take it or what?” She gestured to the trophy in the Ithorian’s hands.

    “Nah. Don’t want that one. I want a bigger silver one that I made friends with two years ago,” Alana said.

    “Of course you don’t,” Esther sighed, “So what do you want me to do with this?”

    “Eh, I’m sure someone will take it off your hands,” Alana said with a grin before jogging back to her team.

    With a roll of her eyes, Gondorf walked the Commissioner’s Trophy back to the sidelines. At least the Mercs had taken the Solo Conference championship trophy from her last year. It seemed it was just Alana Glencross who didn’t want to accept anything short of the Galactic Cup.

    As the two teams lined up, Alana happened to pass by Tam. She’d heard about the Togruta. Barefoot Tam or something like that. She was living up to her name.

    “Doesn’t get any bigger than this,” she said to Tam, “First start on the road, Mercs-Miners, Truce Day. A lot of pressure, isn’t it rook?”

    It never hurt to get in the other being’s head.



    Noble House box, Bakura Gardens, Salis D’aar

    Ayn had gotten a seat one over from Declan. She purposefully didn’t sit next to him. He clearly wasn’t comfortable with that. But this did put her in striking distance.

    “This is going to be the Bloom Bowl all over again,” Dorian declared, “Valerii’s going to check her starters out in short order to protect them and we’re going to blow the game.”

    “You are such a pessimist, dear,” Siona told her husband.

    “Realist, my love, realist.”

    “That was a friendly,” Ayn said, “This is the Truce Day game. At home. Totally different.”

    “We’ll just see,” Kerry murmured.

    Yes, we will, Ayn thought.

    TAG: @Bardan_Jusik
    Liam_Vehn and Bardan_Jusik like this.
  9. CPL_Macja Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Nov 29, 2008
    star 5
    IC: Setarcos Rhemes
    K’ntarr Tower Penthouse, Rydonni Prime

    “I do what I do with Rossum because I choose to do it. It’s something of a calling. Thank you though. Is there anything else.”

    I don’t think so my dear, unless you care to join us in bed,” Variise slipped out of the open shirt she was wearing and sultrily strutted off to Setarcos’s bedroom.




    The next morning Setarcos woke to an empty bed and his usual alarm. As he went about doing his normal morning routine, he noticed that the briefcase of credits was absent. He trusted that Variise had retrieved it and was taking it back to be added to the K’ntarr coffers, after all the credits were technically hers, but they were also meant as an early signing bonus when he received them. Either way he knew Variise would see to it that the credits reached their proper home.

    He scooped up the light blue shirt that Variise had been wearing as a nightshirt last night and threw it on. He finished buttoning the second-to-last button, leaving the collar open, as he stepped into his private hanger bay. His pilot was waiting, with his door open, for Setarcos to climb in and settle into his seat. Within moments his speeder was landing back in the bay he had just left a few hours ago. Quietly he rode the lift down to the Press Room where the pool of reporters had gathered. He silently strode up to the mic and waited, he let the silence hand in the air for a moment before he started.

    Thank you for coming today on such short notice. I know that I usually don’t hold a press conference on planet prior to away matches, that I usually send them in via Hypercom. However I have an announcement that should be made in person and before our home media.

    He stopped to take a drink of water and caught a whiff of Variise’s perfume. It must have transferred to the collar of his shirt when she wore it last night. The scent was intoxicating, magically taking him back to last night’s escapades. He closed his eyes and shook his head to get back to his senses and the important matter at hand.

    I know that there have been rumors out there about K’ntarr Sports Entertainment Group looking in to placing a team on Byblos. I can confirm for you today that these rumors are not unfounded. Starting in 274 there will be a KSEG affiliated squad on Byblos. The Monarchs will be moving…

    to be continued….

    TAG: @Trieste (for Bennett’s response, if any)
  10. Vehn Force Ghost

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

    Somewhere in the Mid Rim

    “Meredith,” a man said.

    “Polis,” she replied.

    Uneasily, as if they were two armed thugs eyeing one another up in case of treachery, they sat down at a table in a classy restaurant aboard the Republican passenger liner Endless Dreams. The destination was never important to either of them. They could personally care less where the liner was headed. All that seemed to matter now was where they were headed.

    “So that was—“

    “Thought you played wel-“

    They stopped speaking, awkward silence.

    Meredith laughed a little bit. Her nerves were getting her all tangled up in her mouth. She could stare down opposing players on the pitch without blinking an eye, without ever feeling nervous, totally in her zone, on the greatest stage of the sporting world, but right now she was absolutely shaking. She hoped it didn’t show. She hoped that she looked beautiful tonight. Dressing up for a night out wasn’t really her thing. Usually she was holed up in her apartment studying game tape, or working out at the gym, or kicking somebody’s ass out on the Limmie pitch.

    “You go ahead,” Meredith conceded, her manners from her childhood on Hapes coming back to her now.

    “Just wanted to say that I appreciate you taking the time to see me tonight,” Polis said, “and, if I might add, you look absolutely stunning.”

    “Thank you, Polis, and so do you,” Meredith replied flashing a smile.

    “Okay, I need to get something off my chest—“ Polis began.

    Meredith sat up. She had been wanting to speak about their first date which had ended with a friendly hug goodbye and a weak promise to see one another again. She’d been mulling over how they parted, feeling like a fool, feeling like she should’ve been more aggressive with Polis. Out on the Limmie pitch, she would have dueled him till the sun rose in the morning. Out here in the real world, however, she wasn’t as strong, at least, she didn’t think so.

    “Yeah, me too,” Meredith replied.

    Polis took a gulp of wine. Meredith saw his face pinch as it burned in his throat. That told her something. Whatever Polis had to say was serious.


    “I had a great time with you on Coruscant. One of the best, uh,” he stopped, studied Chambers face for approval.

    “Dates,” Meredith suggested.

    “Right, dates, with you that I’ve ever had in my life and that’s saying something because when you’ve won a Galactic Cup in front of your adoring fans, well, good experiences are harder to come by,” Polis said.

    “Find the real world letting you down?” Meredith asked.

    “Yeah, sort of,” Polis replied.

    “I know the feeling. Nothing like pumping the team up prior to that Final game and then it goes by all so quickly and before you know it you’ve got that confetti, that ticker tape, photographers in your face, droids whizzing around, people dumping champagne on you, well, you know how it is,” Meredith said.

    “You get out here, away from the pitch, away from all that attention, and you discover that suddenly the world feels empty, that you feel empty inside. You know?” Polis said.

    “And that maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance you can share that emptiness with someone else who understands what it feels like to have it all one moment and have nothing the next,” Meredith added.

    “Maker, you know exactly where I’m coming from,” Polis said breathing a sigh of relief.

    “You might be one of the few that I’ve ever been able to talk to about this,” Meredith said.

    “The price of fame,” Polis admitted.

    “Damn straight. You know, they expect you to live in the moment, to keep your head in the game, never looking forward to life beyond Limmie, never mindful that playing for a professional squad is only a tiny portion of your entire life. Now, as I near the end of my career, I find I’m thinking not of all the wonderful times I had on the pitch, but of all the scary things out there that I don’t know are coming,” Meredith said.

    “Wait, stop the presses. Did Meredith Chambers actually admit that she’s afraid?” Polis teased.

    “Shut up. I know you feel the same way,” Meredith countered.

    “How’s your head feeling, Chambers?” Polis pressed.

    “Never better, Vayne. Not very often a man can punch a woman and avoid jail,” Meredith chuckled.

    “Hey, you charged me, remember?” Polis reminded.

    “You were in my zone. You expect me to sit back on my heels and let you score the shot uncontested?”

    “Been done before.”

    “Not by me.”

    “No, not by you, Chambers,” Polis said staring into her eyes, “you’re a different lady and I admire your strength, your courage, your passion for life.”

    “Easy, Vayne, can’t have you shooting points under the bar just yet,” Meredith replied with the hint of a smile.

    “Why not? You like it when I play rough,” Polis insisted.

    “Don’t make me shut you down like I did on the pitch,” Meredith replied.

    “Too late for that,” Polis said. He jerked his head toward the dance floor where a small band was playing a love song from long ago.

    “You want to dance?”

    “Only if you let me lead,” Meredith replied.

    “We’ll see about that,” Polis said as he offered his hand.

    Meredith took his hand and the pair eased out onto the dance floor. She had never realized how handsome he was until tonight. He was taller than she, muscular, strong, steady, and when he looked at her, she saw a glimmer of hope, a glimmer of something special, a glimmer that magic could be made if they played their cards just right. He pulled her closer to him, hand firmly on the small of her back, reassuring, safe.

    Suddenly her resistance to him seemed to melt away. Any feelings about him being a Senator, about her being a Smuggler, faded away and as the music played, they were just two people enjoying a dance, seeing one another clearly for the first time in their lives, slowly, cautiously, falling in love.

    Meredith relaxed and followed Polis’s lead. He was smooth, smoother than his movement out on the pitch. The guy could dance, the movements seemed natural, they seemed a good fit together, and as the music soared to its beautiful crescendo of sound and magic, she leaned her head on his chest, could feel his heart beat, his steady breathing. She felt safe here, felt as if the entire galaxy had just melted away and that all that ever existed was the two of them.

    Meredith looked up into the eyes of Polis Vayne, a man she had dueled to the bitter end on the Limmie pitch for well over a decade, and smiled. She could tell that he felt at peace with her as well. That the two of them simply understood one another on a level that only two people truly in love can ever understand. There was a brief moment of hesitation, uncertainty. Meredith knew what he wanted. She wanted it as well. Polis leaned forward, she closed her eyes, and they kissed, locking lips in a fusion of energy and passion that only mutual respect, admiration, trust, and now love could ever unlock.

    She never wanted to leave his protective arms. As she pulled away, Polis stroked her cheek gently with a finger and whispered, “I love you, Meredith.”

    Meredith wanted to run. He had said those three words to her. The words you never said unless you really cared for someone. The words that couldn’t be said too early, the words that some couples could never say at all. But she didn’t run. Not this time. Not now.

    She looked up at Polis and replied, “I know.”






    Tag: No One


    OOC: Special permission to use Polis Vayne given by @Jedi Gunny. Without him, this idea would never have launched. Many thanks!
    Last edited by Liam_Vehn, May 29, 2013
    Jedi Gunny and jcgoble3 like this.
  11. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 5
    IMPORTANT GM Post

    Everybody: as 273 draws to a close, that means it's time to start getting ready for 274. I would like to ask that everyone send me a PM with the following:
    1. If they intend to come back for 274.
    2. If they intend to participate in the 274 Draft (and, if so, please provide three draftees)
    That's all. If I do not hear from you, you could be dropped from the 274 season. Similarly, if anyone knows of anyone new who wants to join, now is the time for them to talk to me.

    Thanks!

    Tag: @Bardan_Jusik @CPL_Macja @jcgoble3 @Jedi Gunny @JediMaster1511 @JM_1977 @Liam_Vehn (who I doubt will be back, but he could always change his mind) @Rebecca_Daniels (who is exempted because she has provided prior notice she is currently out of town and intends to return) @Runjedirun @Teegirloo
    Bardan_Jusik likes this.
  12. Vehn Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Sep 14, 2009
    star 4


    IC: Meredith Chambers

    Final Regular Season Limmie Game versus Rydonni Prime

    Meredith Chambers was the last one in the locker room. The rest of the team had gone on ahead of her. She was taking her time lacing up her cleats, making sure her uniform was just right, cinching her gloves down nice and tight. She was ready and at the same time she was incredibly nervous. This could very well be her last game in the Elite League. This could very well be the last time she ever walked the pitch in front of a sold out crowd at Six Boroughs stadium. This could very well be the last time that she ever got a chance to show the galaxy why it was that she had been so successful, so humbled, so grateful, to have played this beautiful game.

    She took in the locker room that had been a second home to her for twelve, long, beautiful years. She admired the chipped paint on the walls that gave this old stadium character, the beat up wood that lined the player’s lockers, the memories of exchanging laughs, tears, the lingering smell of sweat and chalk, old friends long gone, mere memories in the winds of time.

    She ran a gloved hand over her lacquered plaque that was now faded, much like her time in the Elite League, still a reminder of past glories, past achievements, past days of total bliss and victory that only a champion can know. She reflected back on her rookie year of 261, when Gunba Pemiti had gone down in the game against the Kashyyyk Rangers, how frightened she was to fill the shoes of that venerable goalkeeper. She had never dreamed that in so doing she would go on to have an illustrious career as one of the most formidable goalkeepers in her own right. She remembered how excited she was when her name was first applied to the plaque above her locker, an honor that only Smugglers starters got to have. How she had fought hard to earn her place on a squad that thought they were destined for a losing season. How the encouraging words of Tover Micjaa to keep her head up, keep fighting, learn from her mistakes, only fueled her desire to get better. The Smugglers would go on to squeak out a victory against the undefeated Mon Calamari Mariners in a thrilling 9-7 defensive battle for the Cup.

    There was nothing quite like holding up that Galactic Cup for the first time in her life, feeling the weight of that glorious silver chalice, seeing the names of past victors, past Smugglers teams, etched on its pristine surface. How the galaxy had thundered when they announced the Numifolis winner for the 261 season, a rookie from Hapes, a young woman who had traveled the long and hard road to the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers, to ultimate victory, and who in her moment of celebration, could not fathom what an impact she would have on the sporting world she was now leaving.

    She took one last look at the locker room. One last look at the hanging jerseys, the names above each cubicle, the pictures on the walls of championship squads, of history that she had made here, once and what seemed like so long ago. Flicking out the light, Meredith headed out into the long tunnel that ran underneath the stands to the pitch. Her cleats clicked and clacked on the durracrete surface, a sound she had grown to savor, a sound she had grown to love. The distant roar of the sell-out crowd wafted down the tunnel, like sweet music to her ears. She stared at the distant pin-prick of light and brought her gloves up to her face, smelled the leather, more memories, hugging teammates, shouts of victory, the agonies of defeat, the glorious experiences of twelve-long years playing the best sport the galaxy had ever known.

    As she stared down the tunnel, she suddenly realized that she was not alone. Her teammates, coaches, past and present, lined the tunnel that would take her out onto the field of glory. They were here to honor her. They were here to send her off in traditional Smuggler fashion.

    As she walked forward, she noticed Cally Thrace, who gave her a hard pat on the back and said, “Go get ‘em, Chambers.”

    There was Selene Minn, who shook her hand and gave a war cry that only the Smuggler faithful could ever love.

    There was Nauranta, the towering Wookiee who had put in some good years in a few of the Smuggler squads who enveloped Meredith in a shaggy hug.

    There was John Huntington, the retired, wizened veteran, who had guided the Smugglers to a glorious final in 267 ABY, telling her to enjoy every moment of this final game.

    Gunba Pemiti, that venerable goalkeeper who had taken the fall in Meredith’s rookie year, nodded her head deferentially in her direction.

    There was Helena Forsythe, the woman who had been in and out of the Smuggler lineup but had won her share of victories with the squad, clapping her hands, whistling, yelling, “Let’s do this, Meredith!”

    There was Sasha Luy’kin, that Bothan who had been Meredith’s right hand gal for much of her time in the Elite League, grabbed Chambers in a fierce hug. They held on to one another tightly, tears falling from their faces, tears of joy, tears of sadness, tears of the parting that was sure to come.

    Wiping her bleary eyes, Meredith shook the hand of former coach Tover Micjaa, who pulled her close and whispered, “You were the best I ever coached, you got that? You were the best. Rhia would be so proud of you. She’s with you today, Chambers, in here,” Micjaa said, jabbing at his heart.

    She passed much of the rest of the Smugglers squad, all crying out, “Chambers!”

    She walked by Luc Everoux, Quinn Abbey, James Tronnheim, Vincent Cutter, all clapping, honoring their star. She was almost to the end of the tunnel now. She was almost out into the bright lights of Six Boroughs. This was it. This was final. This was the moment that she could never return to and so she closed her eyes and savored the smell of the pitch, the leather on her gloves, the snacks being consumed by the crowd, the sizzling, popping, energy of the fans who knew why there was a brief delay in the start of the game.

    Meredith loosened up, hopped from one foot to the other, shaking her body, ready for one last run, one last push, to glory, to all that had ever mattered. She opened her eyes. She was ready. She could do this. She inhaled deeply and exhaled. Repeated this pattern several times before smacking her gloved hands together, ready to play, ready to bask in one final game at Six Boroughs. Ready to take the old girl out for one more spin around the block.

    “Starting at goalkeeper for the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers,” the announcer said.

    The roar from the crowd was absolutely deafening. The entire stadium shook, was on their feet, clapping, cheering, in eager anticipation to see Meredith’s last game. They had even defied building code a bit for this game to add extra seating to the old stadium. This was a game to be televised galaxy wide. This was a game that for anyone who had ever felt the passion of Elite League Limmie burn in their hearts had to be watched.

    “You ready, kid?” A voice asked from behind Meredith.

    Meredith turned, looked into the eyes of her father, her face trembled, quivered in emotion, “Dad?”

    They embraced and suddenly she was a little girl playing her first Limmie game in the warm summer afternoons on Hapes. Just a little girl developing a love for the game, playing hard for her father, playing hard for herself. She remembered playing goalkeeper, blocking the last shot of the game, her team swamping her in love, showering her in praises. She remembered her father holding her up high, she had been squealing with laughter as he proudly proclaimed, “I love you, my little champion!”

    Then, she had wanted to be a member of the Hapes Consortium Buccaneers. Then she had dreams of winning the Galactic Cup for her home planet. Then she had so many dreams and as she pulled away from her father, hands shaking, she looked at the man she had always loved, even though later in life times had changed and they had never seen eye to eye. But that didn’t matter anymore. That was all in the past. He was here now. He loved her and she loved him and nobody could take that away.

    “I love you, Dad.”

    “I love you too. Now, get out there and show them why you’re a champion!”

    She gave her father’s hand one last squeeze, turned toward the bright lights of the stadium, and stepped out onto the grassy pitch. She raised a hand in the air, surrounded by adoring fans, surrounded by all those emotions that one can experience when they step away from something they love.

    Meredith Chambers stood in her goalkeeper box, the rest of the team had come out now, and she tapped the posts, the old ritual returning. She swayed and shimmied in that box of hers. That box that she had to protect for all that mattered. That box that had been her best friend and her worst enemy for a very long time.

    She looked up at the burgundy flags waving in the smoky atmosphere of Six Boroughs, she looked at the jerseys that hung high up in the rafters, retired numbers, from players likes Rhia Grames, Tover Micjaa, Selene Minn, John Huntington, and one day, she knew, hers would be up there as well.

    This was her moment and as the game kicked off, as the Rydonni Prime Monarchs came hurtling down the field, Meredith couldn’t help but smile for all the right reasons. But there was one reason she smiled the most.

    For love of the game.

    Tag: @CPL_Macja
    Last edited by Liam_Vehn, May 30, 2013
  13. CPL_Macja Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Nov 29, 2008
    star 5
    IC: Setarcos Rhemes
    Press Room, The Grande Villa

    The Monarchs will be moving...

    Before the General Manager could even finish his sentence flashbulbs on holocameras started flashing and there was an audible sound of the press pool moving to the edge of their chairs. Audio recording devices were thrust even closer to Setarcos as if the next words out of his mouth were going to historic and almost prophetic.

    ...in a new direction philosophically. When we first started in the Elite League we were able to depend on Balmorra to provide us with battle tested players when we needed them. However, in recent times, we have not had that option available to us. Now, as it has become known, the Balmorra Blasters are once again affiliated with the Monarchs under the K’ntarr Sports Entertainment Group. But, they will not be leaving the Premier League and moving to Limmie Futures League for developmental squads. Instead they will continue to flex their limmie muscle in that league, and give our developing players a second option to play professional limmie.

    Setarcos paused and looked over to where a familiar face had just entered the room. “The Blasters General Manager Ejo Sephi, and I will be working together to ensure that our two teams are equally served to field the best teams in our respective leagues. Now, there is not going to be a separate General Manager for the LFL squad, I will be the General Manager for both and all player contracts will be Monarch contracts. What this means is that they will be the exclusive development squad for the Rydonni Prime Monarchs.” He then pushed a button on the podium and an image appeared behind him on the vid-screen.

    [IMG]

    Allow me to introduce to you the Byblos Red Wings. The Wings will allow us to train the next generation of ELL All-Stars while at the same time giving our current players a place to work themselves back up to ELL speed after suffering an injury that took them out for a period of time. The exact makeup of the team and the coach staff will be announced during the off-season. For now I can tell you that you will see some familiar faces both on the pitch and on the sidelines wearing the red, silver, gold, and white. Now if you will excuse me, I have a shuttle bound for Nar Shaddaa to catch.” Once again Setarcos walked out amid shouted questions that would all have to wait to be answered.

    ----- ----- ----- ----- -----
    Visitor’s Locker room, Six Boroughs
    Three minutes before the Monarchs/Smugglers Match


    Setarcos paced back and forth, in front of his entire team, inside the rundown, dilapidated closet the Smugglers called a visitor’s locker room. The entire roster made the journey to the Monarchs final regular season game, even Greenly Zo, who was wearing regular clothes and being supported by crutches. He looked out into their weary and beat up eyes. He knew that most of his players were nursing some sort of injury, but playing through the pain seemed to have taken its toll.

    Still they were going to have to dig deep within themselves or this could be their final match of the entire season. They knew, just as much as he did, that if they won today they will have clinched a spot in the playoffs, regardless of the outcomes of the Cross Galaxy Clash and the Revolutionary War. If they lost, it would take losses from the Senators and the Mercs, in order for them to stay in, because of their two non-conference wins. But that would be highly improbable, so he needed to get them mentally prepared.

    I don't know what to say really. Three minutes to the biggest battle of our professional lives all comes down to today. Either we heal as a team or we are going to crumble, inch by inch, play by play, till we're finished. We are in hades right now, folks, believe me, and we can stay here and get the crap kicked out of us or we can fight our way back into the light. We can climb out of hades, one inch at a time.

    “Now I can't do it for you. I'm too old. I look around and I see these young faces and I think I mean I made every wrong choice a middle age man could make. I uh.... I’ve pissed away a lot of my credits, believe it or not. I chased off anyone who has ever loved me. And lately, I can't even stand the face I see in the mirror.

    “You know when you get old in life things get taken from you. That's, that's part of life. But, you only learn that when you start losing stuff. You find out that life is just a game of inches. So is limmie. Because in either game, life or limmie, the margin for error is so small. I mean one half step too late or to early you don't quite make it. One half second too slow or too fast and you don't quite catch it. The inches we need are everywhere around us. They are in ever break of the game, every minute, every second.

    “On this team, we fight for that inch. On this team, we tear ourselves, and everyone around us, to pieces for that inch. We CLAW with our fingernails for that inch. Cause we know, when we add up all those inches, that's going to make the frakking difference between WINNING and LOSING, between LIVING and DYING.

    “I'll tell you this, in any fight it is the being who is willing to die who is going to win that inch. And I know, if I am going to have any life anymore, and die for that inch, because that is what LIVING is, the six inches in front of your face.

    “Now I can't make you do it. You gotta look at the being next to you. Look into their eyes. Now I think you are going to see a being who will go that inch with you. You are going to see a being who will sacrifice themselves for this team because they know when it comes down to it, you are gonna do the same thing for them.

    “That's a team, folks, and either we heal now, as a team, or we will die as individuals. That's limmie folks. That's all it is. Now, whatcha ya gonna do?
    ” His team rose to their feet as one and charged out of the locker room with a thunderous battle cry.

    ----- ----- ----- ----- -----
    To: Bennett Halverson
    Rossum Bookmakers

    Ms. Halverson,

    Once again, it was a pleasure to finally meet with you in the flesh and hope that we can do it again soon. In the meantime, I would like to place the following wagers:

    Rydonni Prime Monarchs at Nar Shaddaa Smugglers: 200,000 credits on the Monarchs to win
    Mando’ade Mercs at Bakura Miners: 80,000 credits on the Miners to win
    Coruscant Senators at Chandrila Patriots: 80,000 credits on the Patriots to win
    Ryloth Rough Riders at Vandelhalm Jets: 80,000 credits on the Rough Riders to win
    Ylesia Lightning at Onderon Crazy Dragons: 80,000 credits on the Lightning to win
    Ralltiir Starkillers at Euceron Storm: 80,000 credits on the Storm to win

    Thank you and have a good day,

    Client 24601


    TAG: @Trieste @Liam_Vehn
    Trieste and Liam_Vehn like this.
  14. Bardan_Jusik Mand'alor - Manager of the EUC, SWC and Spinoffs

    Manager
    Member Since:
    Dec 14, 2009
    star 10
    IC: Aay'han Vhett
    GM’s box, Bakura Gardens, Salis D’aar, Bakura

    Vhett strode through the corridors of Bakura Gardens, keenly aware that most others in the hallway parted for her and her entourage. Bakurans. She couldn't understand them, nor this celebration they called run away day. She could understand why they mostly stayed far away from her and her armored contingent though. Alone one of them had the appearance of a walking tank, together the half dozen of them looked more like an invading army. This wasn't an invasion of course, and those with her were her aides, though since the ...incident on Kamino they also doubled as her bodyguards. Who would ever want to invade this place anyway? It was too soft, like its people. Though they did put together one shabla good meshgeroya team.

    It galled her slightly that these aruetiise had so recently won a Galactic Cup, while her own team had fallen just short in their first trip to the finals game last season. It galled her further that the Mercs playoff hopes hinged on victories by other teams as well as a win here today, a place the Mercs had never won before. She was here in the hopes of seeing a playoff clinching performance, but that was a secondary concern. Her primary reason was to do business, and try to improve the team in years to come.

    She smiled her cruel smile under her buy'ce as her primary target came into view. Unlike the others, he didn't shy away from contact with her. Such an arrogant little aruetii, she thought to herself. I would be doing the league a favor by making him disappear. How many ways she could accomplish that with just the gear she carried on her person now?

    “Aay’han,” Quinn said “How lovely to see you on Truce Day.” Vhett stopped her count at 87 ways though she was sure there were more. This was business after all, not pleasure. “So, shall we begin?”

    Vhett nodded curtly to the aruetii, "You may dispense with the pleasentries Quinn. I am here to do business. I know we both have...assets the other wants. I have no desire to celebrate your planetary day of cowradice. So yes, let's get started."





    IC: Jaya "barefoot" Tam
    Field level, Bakura Gardens, Salis D’aar

    Tam could only scrunch up her toes into the soft Bakuran turf as the celebrations went on around her. She was focused on how the earth felt beneath her feet. So different from the hard soil of Mandalore, and nearly as lush as her native Shili. She didn't understand what the meaning of Truce Day was, but history was never her strong suit. Something about two sides coming together to defeat a common foe. She found something admirable in that, even if many of her team mates seemed to deride the events going on.

    None of them could ignore the presentation of the Commissioner's Cup though. The Miners had earned it. She knew a lot of preseason talk had centered on the Mercs or the Senators while the Miners had snuck up on many to not only take the best record in the ELL, but to clinch it before the final game of the season had even been played. Tam knew that this was to be an uphill struggle. The crowd was already so into it. It made the fact that this was her very first start so much more exciting.

    The teams lined up for the pregame rituals when the Miners all-star midfielder called out to her. "Doesn’t get any bigger than this. First start on the road, Mercs-Miners, Truce Day. A lot of pressure, isn’t it rook?” Tam smiled, she hadn't even thought of the pressure. She supposed there should have been given the nature of the game. It was win or go home for the Mercs. Even if they won it might not be enough. But to the Togruta, to finally be on the field, to make her first start, it was mesmerizing. She replied.

    "Pressure Ms. Glencross? No pressure. After what I have gone through to even get here, this is a dream come true."




    IC: Beskaryc Taab
    MandalMotors Hall, manda'yaim A few hours ago.

    Taab rolled his head around his shoulders, loosening up for the bout that would soon begin. The clans had all agreed that this Battle Circle was to remain a secret for now. After it was complete the means with which they had broken the stalemate could be revealed. Maybe it would even become a new standard practice for them. It beat the messiness of voting any time. Taab didn't know how aruetiise put up with it. It seemed so uncivilized.

    In any case, the Hall had been set up for the Battle Circle, and Taab was ready. He smiled, looking to his opponent at the other end of the Hall. Ordo returned it, no doubt feeling the same way. Soon the future course of manda'yaim would be set, and it hinged on the results of this fight. It was a good feeling for them both, knowing that such power was all in your own hands. They didn't know how wrong they were.

    TAG: @Trieste

    [IMG]
    Liam_Vehn likes this.
  15. Runjedirun Chosen One

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

    The losses were taking a toll on everyone. It seemed the season would end with this last game on Euceron. Lucie hoped the Starkillers could end the season on a good note with a win, but she also knew a loss and a top draft pick wouldn’t be all bad either. To keep her team motivated she concentrated on planning an end of the season bash for the dance squad. She had arranged to use a banquet room in the restaurant she worked in.

    Her other idea to bring some fresh enthusiasm to the team and its fans was to practice in the park during business lunch hours. Practices in the park in the early morning drew crowds which always made practice more fun. Lucie could only imagine what those crowds would be like during lunch. She let the loss to the Lightning blow over for a day before scheduling the practice. It was only known to her squad that they would be there, but it only took a few moments for word to spread once the dance team arrived.

    The team gathered in a huddle before rehearsing their first routine. “Game day.” She said with a smile. “Only better. These fans aren’t here for a Limmie game. They have come out just to see you. So put on a show they will always remember!” Her team responded with a routine that made her proud. The males even made her swoon a little when they ripped off their shirts, swung them around their heads and threw them to female audience members.

    During the second act Lucie noted an all too familiar Gammorrean. He held a double nerf burger with cheese. There was sauce leaking out of it and dripping unto his shirt. Of course he was too busy eyeing the dancers and munching away to notice. She tried desperately to concentrate on anything and everything else going on around her, but for some reason the Gammorrean’s disgusting demeanor kept distracting her. Then during a simple spin move while she was trying to look away from the Gammorrean instead of right ahead of her where he stood, where she should have been looking she collided with one of her squad mates. They both tumbled to the ground. Lucie was so embarrassed. She was the leader of the team and there she was on the ground. Quickly she stood up and gave her squad mate a hand in getting up as well. “You okay?” she asked. The other woman nodded and jumped back into the routine as if nothing had happened. Lucie quickly did the same. She noticed her left ankle felt a bit sore, but she was able to put weight on it and did not want to let on anything may be wrong so she finished out the entire rehearsal.

    When she got home that night her ankle got worse. It throbbed as she tried to sleep. Panic swept through her mind. So much so that she couldn’t be sure what was keeping her awake, pain or worry. She had never been injured before. She didn’t even know what to do. When morning came she carefully got out of bed and was surprised to find she wasn’t limping. At least not noticeably. So she put on her uniform and headed to work, hoping for the best.

    @jcgoble3
    Last edited by Runjedirun, May 31, 2013
  16. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 5
    GM Post

    It's week 7, the final week of the regular season and the moment of truth for just about everybody. Bonus rolls to Bakura, Coruscant, Mando'ade, Nar Shaddaa, Ralltiir, Rydonni Prime.

    Week 7 Results
    Ylesia Ligthning at Onderon Crazy Dragons (33-35)
    Ryloth Rough Riders at Vandelhelm Jets (23-27)
    Ralltiir Starkillers at Euceron Storm (12-6)
    Rydonni Prime Monarchs at Nar Shaddaa Smugglers (22-33)
    Coruscant Senators at Chandrila Patriots (33-6)
    Mando’ade Mercs at Bakura Miners (30-12)

    And the third seed in the Skywalker Conference comes down to a four-way tie. Here's how it worked out:

    Head-to-head, the record of Euceron, Ralltiir, Ryloth, and Ylesia was looked at inside just those four.

    • Euceron beat Ylesia and lost to Ralltiir and Ryloth
    • Ralltiir beat Euceron and lost to Ryloth and Ylesia
    • Ryloth beat Euceron and Ralltiir and lost to Ylesia
    • Ylesia beat Ralliir and Ryloth and lost to Euceron
    Ryloth and Yleisa tied at 2-1 inside the tiebreak with Euceron and Ralltiir tied 1-2 inside the tiebreak. Ylesia beat Ryloth and receives the third seed. Ralltiir beat Euceron and receives the fifth seed.

    The final standings are as follows:

    Skywalker Conference
    1. Vandelhelm Jets (4-3, conf. 4-1)
    2. Onderon Crazy Dragons (3-4, conf. 3-2)
    3. Ylesia Lightning (3-4, conf. 2-3)
    4. Ryloth Rough Riders (3-4, conf. 2-3)
    5. Ralltiir Starkillers (3-4, conf. 2-3)
    6. Euceron Storm (3-4, conf. 2-3)
    Solo Conference
    1. Bakura Miners (5-2, conf. 4-1)
    2. Coruscant Senators (5-2, conf. 3-2)
    3. Mando'ade Mercs (4-3, conf. 3-2)
    4. Rydonni Prime Monarchs (4-3, conf. 2-3)
    5. Nar Shaddaa Smugglers (3-4, conf. 2-3)
    6. Chandrila Patriots (2-5, conf. 1-4)
    Galactic Cup Playoffs
    Conference Semifinals
    (3) Ylesia Lightning at (2) Onderon Crazy Dragons
    (3) Mando'ade Mercs at (2) Coruscant Senators

    Conference Finals
    ??? at (1) Vandelhelm Jets
    ??? at (1) Bakura Miners

    Please note that I would like to release season award nominees this week. Shall we say by Wednesday? Please get me your nominees before then so we can get in a week and a half of voting before the awards are revealed before the Galactic Cup Final.

    Tag: @Bardan_Jusik @CPL_Macja @jcgoble3 @Jedi Gunny @JediMaster1511 @JM_1977 @Liam_Vehn @Rebecca_Daniels @Runjedirun @Teegirloo
    Last edited by Trieste, Jun 2, 2013
  17. Bardan_Jusik Mand'alor - Manager of the EUC, SWC and Spinoffs

    Manager
    Member Since:
    Dec 14, 2009
    star 10
    IC: Aay'han Vhett
    GM’s box, Bakura Gardens, Salis D’aar, Bakura

    Vhett could only watch on with satisfaction as the game was finally underway. Yes she spent some of the time verbally sparring with Cundertol, but much of that time was also spent discussing the future of each team and how they could both help one another. She felt that a good foundation had been laid for future talks, but with Cundertol nothing could ever be certain.

    Soon enough though she let current game slip into her psyche. From the get go Tam was on fire. Elegant and graceful she effortlessly evaded the Bakuran defense to score point after point. Granted the Miners had one of, if not the worst defensive team in the league, but watching the Togruta rookie do her magic was spellbinding.

    On the other end of the field the Mercs defense was managing to keep the vaunted Miner's offense in check. Vhett wasn't sure if the team was dogging it, playing soft as their own playoff seeding was already assured but she doubted it. The Miners hated the Mercs, and a chance to stick it to them and keep them from their own playoff berth was simply too sweet an opportunity to pass up. Likewise she knew the crowd would have none of that, not with this being the Holiday where they embraced their own weakness.

    Towards the end of the second half the game was well in hand. Vhett and Cundertoll had finished their own business, so she took her leave of him. "An excellent game Quinn, I am....pleased to have finally gotten a victory under our belts here. I do so hope to see you again in a couple of weeks." She left and made her way to the locker room to congratulate her team





    IC: Jaya "barefoot" Tam
    Visitors locker room, Bakura Gardens, Salis D’aar, Bakura

    They joy of a win permeated the locker room as the team made their way inside. They had never won in this building before, and to spoil the cowardice day celebrations made it all the better. Nothing was assured yet, the team knew that the Senators had already won, but the Monarchs score was late in getting to them. Still that didn't stop the celebrations.

    Coach Vizsla grabbed all their attention with a loud shout. "Game ball..." everyone looked to the Togruta Half Forward. "Barefoot, great game" as he handed her the bolo ball. She knew it had to irk him to give her the honor, especially since winning here and eluded the all-Mando teams of the past. Her own stubbornness had also played into that to be sure. But she knew he had no choice, She had scored 16 points out there today, single handily outscoring the entire Miners team. It had been a sensational effort, and one worthy of recognition. Given that she had really only played one and a half game in the league, she knew that any Rookie of the Year award was far beyond her reach, so this would have to do. The only thing that could top it now would be a playoff berth.

    The GM entered the locker room now, cheers of "oya" rang out both from her, and at her. The team was too elated to worry about who was the boss now. She removed her helmet and looked at them all sternly. "I have the final scores from the Monarchs game." The locker room went so silent that you could here a micro-filament drop. "Smugglers beat them by 11. We are back in the playoffs," she said with a sudden smile. Tam had never seen her smile like that before, as if she was actually feeling joy. Judging by the reactions from some of the other players they hadn't either. But right now they didn't care.

    "OYA!!!" rang out again, so loud it could probably be heard in the home locker room. Even Tam found herself joining in. Looking at Fortune she could see he was too, as were the Hansons and all the other "aruetiise" players. This was one team, and they had one goal.

    The cheers continued on as the players dressed. Everyone was in a great mood, ready to go to Coruscant and do their best to make a mark in these playoffs. They wanted to come back to Bakura and defeat them again, ensuring a second straight trip to the title game. And then the news started to filter in...from Mandalore.

    TAG: @Trieste






    IC: Beskaryc Taab
    MandalMotors Hall, manda'yaim.

    It was time. Taab and Ordo both stood and approached the crude circle that had been drawn on the Hall's floor. Surrounded by the leaders of the various clans, whose chanting brought everyone's blood to a boil. Neither Taab nor Ordo wore a buy'ce, and before they entered the circle they both began stripping the armored plates off of their undersuits. By agreement this was to be a battle with no weapons, no armor to protect them. It was strength against strength, guile against guile. Man vs. man.

    Taab looked on as Ordo went so far as to strip off his under shirt as well, this wasn't going to be easy.

    [IMG]

    The two men entered the Battle Circle, while the battle master went through the rules such as they were. There were to be no death blows, nor was either to leave the circle once battle had commenced. The first to be knocked out, or to surrender, lost. At least the rules were easy Taab thought as he looked to Ordo a final time as equals, soon one of them would be elevated over the other. Taab took the opportunity to blow the man a kiss, a chance perhaps to get into the man's head. Ordo responded with the simple raising of an eyebrow. Shab, Ordo was unshakable, a rock.

    Taab began to wonder if this challenge was such a good idea.

    The chanting around them reached a crescendo, the Hall echoed with the cries of the mando'ade. If nothing else this would be Taab's finest hour. The chanting suddenly stopped and the battlemaster cried out. "Begin!"

    Neither man wasted any time as they rushed towards one another. The Circle wasn't overly large, but it did allow for them to build up some momentum before crashing into one another. Taab's earlier analysis of Ordo as a Rock wasn't far off the mark. He didn't yield an inch as Taab rebounded off of the rather large Mandalorian. But Taab didn't rebound far, Ordo quickly grabbed him in a bear hug and began to squeeze.

    Taab responded by headbutting the Ordo to the face, crushing his nose. Taab was dropped free and made a strike with his knee to his opponent's groin. It was clear that he was outmatched physically, he would have to fight dirty. Ordo grunted loudly and cringed as Taab's knee struck home. Taab didn't stop there. Knowing that any body blows against Ordo would be nearly useless, he punched twice more rapidly to Ordo's face, hoping to capitalize on the damage already done there. The stronger Mandalorian staggered back further, towards the edge of the circle. Sensing his opportunity to end the fight quickly, Taab stepped back and launched into a spinning leg kick.

    Ordo was quick to recover however. He blocked the kick with his massive forearm and knocked Taab back now. He began to punch at Taab, forcing the elder on the defensive. Taab managed to block several of the body blows, but even those caused him to shudder. The ones that struck home physically pushed him back. Cries of "Oya" could be heard, coming from those watching, cheering them both on.

    Taab was getting pummeled now, Ordo's reach was too great for Taab to even attempt to get a return punch in. Taab's attempts to move back inside were also unsuccessful, Ordo saw every move coming and managed to keep on striking. Taab jabbed at Ordo's feet with several kicks, hoping to unbalance him. But it was all to no avail, Taab could feel the end coming.

    Still he refused to back down. He started to kick again, attempting to land blows to Ordo's side now, but these too were deflected. At least though they put an end to the relentless punching. Taab was out of breath, but managed another kick this time aimed at Ordo's head. It almost landed.

    Ordo moved his head to the side and at the same time caught Taab's foot in his own hands. Spinning them, he threw Taab to the ground. "Not good." was all Taab could mutter before he swept Ordo's legs out from under him. Now both were on the ground, and soon they were grappling. For several minutes they pushed and pulled, trying their best to get leverage on the other. At one point Taab managed to grasp Ordo's hand and twist it, causing him to cry out in pain. Taab attempted to control the fight from there, but Ordo was too strong. He used his own legs and wrapped Taab up. Taab lost his grip and was again on the defensive. Taab flailed away with his arms, trying to break Ordo's "grip" but it wasn't enough.

    Ordo grabbed Taab by the hair, and pulled his head back, exposing his throat. A quick knife hand strike there against the defenseless Taab caused his eyes to roll into the back of his head. Releasing his scissor hold Ordo used the chance to move behind Taab and put him into a classic sleeper hold. Regaining his senses after the knife hand strike, Taab reliazed what was happening but could do nothing to prevent it. It was too late to counter the hold, and slowly as Taab felt consciousness fading away, he could feel his dreams fading away with it...




    ...Taab came to sometime later, the fight was over and he had lost. He got up sullenly. He was for the most part alone, the others were congratulating Ordo on his victory and preparing him for his first appearance as mand'alor. No one bothered to worry about Taab now. He was old news. Ordo was young and strong, this would certainly be the last time that Taab would be able to challenge for leadership of his people. His dreams of becoming mand'alor had been wiped away. Now his thoughts lingered on his past, all the actions he had taken to get to this point. Everything had led up to this moment, and now that moment was gone. Wasted. Even his ownership of the Mercs had simply been a means to an end, a way to help solidify his grip on power. He wondered now what it had all been for.

    He knew the answer. It had been for nothing. His life now held no meaning, no purpose. He had lost to a superior opponent, and there was honor in that. But he had no more goals of his own to accomplish. His family was grown and no longer needed him, and aside from his own ambition they were all that mattered to him. There was no longer a reason to own and operate the Mercs now. Taab already had more money then he would ever need. Should he now sell the team?

    He shook his head to himself, what was he thinking? He had just fought the battle of his life, and while he had lost, he had gone down fighting, never giving up. Why would he give up on the rest of his life now? No instead he would rededicate it, to bring about the greatest meshgeroya teams ever. To bringing his people the Cup they yearned for so badly. He may never be mand'alor, but he was sure to be remembered.

    Feeling himself once again, he moved forward now, to congratulate his new mand'alor, but was stopped by the throng of clan elders. Now wasn't the time. They all watched as Ordo was moved out onto the balcony overlooking the plaza below. A huge crowd of mando'ade and even a few aruetiise had gathered there, ready to greet the newest leader of the Mandalorian people. Who it was they still didn't know, but the white smoke belching from the chimney atop the Hall had called out to them all. It was Ordo's right to meet them, alone with no entourage.

    Ordo took his place on the balcony. Loud cheers of "oya" could be heard from the crowd as he removed his buy'ce and they recognized who it was. Taab hung back, within the confines of the Hall with the other clan leaders. Silence fell upon those gathered in the plaza, and inside the Hall as as their new supreme leader began to speak.

    "Mando'ade I declare myself mand'alor the..."

    ...and that was when the balcony exploded.

    To be continued.

    [IMG]
    Last edited by Bardan_Jusik, Jun 2, 2013
    jcgoble3 likes this.
  18. Jedi Gunny Yahtzee Host

    Game Host
    Member Since:
    May 20, 2008
    star 9
    IC: Gark S’rily
    Stoney End Park, Hana City, Chandrila

    Gark took a seat in the luxury box that was reserved for the Senators team brass. There were a few minutes before the game began, so he was ready to witness how the team would do in the last game of the regular season. He had poked in earlier on the locker room as the team had been given directions by Pamila Korthe, but had mostly tried to stay out of the way. He wasn’t coaching anymore, so he wasn’t going to try to interfere with what the Zeltron had to say to her troops. It was her show now, not his. His job was just to look pretty for the cameras, and take the credit for building the team (even though Pam wouldn’t take that too well most likely, since she had led the team this far, not the Bothan).

    To Gark’s left was Londy Whiste, the Senators “owner” who travelled with his boss to every game, whether it was home or away. Gark had to hand it to Londy; the man bore a striking resemblance to how Gark approached his GM role way back in 262. He was young, full of excitement over the prospects of being a part of the team, and most of all had tons of ideas. This was why Gark had hired him on for this role, because you could never have enough innovation in this game. “So, how you liking Stoney End?” Gark asked his younger employee.

    “It’s great,” Londy said, nodding. “It’s old, obviously, but there’s just something about it that’s appealing. I don’t think the fans are that hot, given the team they root for, but I have to give them credit. They love their team, even when they won’t make the playoffs.”

    “Just like Six Boroughs and the Gardens?” Gark asked, naming two of the other venerable stadiums in the league.

    “Kinda,” Londy replied.

    “I think there’s a reason we don’t have one of these stadiums back on Coruscant. The Gikosphere never would have lasted this long,” Gark said. “I heard it was falling apart, and thus they built the new stadium.”

    “I don’t really remember that,” Londy admitted. “Before my time, really.”

    “I guess it was,” Gark said, rubbing his chin. The weird thing about Andromeda was that, out of the “Big Four” ballclubs that resided in the Solo Conference, Coruscant was the only team with a more “modern” stadium. The other three instead patched up what needed to be fixed instead of did major overhauls. On Coruscant it had been needed not just structurally, but also to provide a jolt for the fanbase; at these other venues, the fans had already been there, so why mess with success?

    On Gark’s right was his wife. Me’lin, to keep in the spirit of what Gark did at games, had dressed casually in a Senators t-shirt, casual slacks, and running shoes. This contrasted sharply with Londy, who still wore dress shirts and a blazer when he was in the box despite Gark telling him multiple times that he didn’t have to dress formally. On her lap was Galin, who was surprisingly asleep given the amount of energy in the air at Stoney End. Gark leaned over to talk to her. “How can he possibly sleep at a time like this?” Gark asked, amused.

    “No idea,” Me’lin replied. “Just tell me when to get the earplugs out, or else he’s going to wail like mad. And that won’t be very fun. I’ve had to deal with his screaming enough already as it is; don’t need to tick him off more.”

    “There are times I wish I could sleep that soundly,” Gark commented. “There’s no rest for the weary.”

    “Just get one of your players to punch your lights out,” his wife said with a smirk. “Then you’ll be sleeping for a while.”

    “Gee, thanks,” Gark said, rolling his eyes.

    A cascade of boos rained down from the stands, and Gark looked down to see the Senators exit from their team tunnel. The nine retiring veterans were out at the front of the line, the rest of the team staying back a bit to give the veterans their due. This was followed by cheers as the Patriots came out of their tunnel, resplendent in their green and white uniforms. It was the Revolutionary War, so both teams were on edge as the game neared. The Patriots were out of playoff contention, and the Senators were trying to hold on for their lives to a playoff spot. It would be an interesting game, Gark surmised.

    The game started with a Chandrila fastbreak. Lorum Ipsum took a pass from midfield and barged his way to the front of the Senator zone. He dodged a harassment attempt by Zummarrorroo, playing in his wing role, and came around the field on a hook. This left him alone with Jayla Leed as Shayt Contar took the wrong angle and was then blocked by another Patriot forward.



    Or, at least he thought he was alone. Out of nowhere, he got smacked in the side and fell down to the turf hard. The ball skittered into the hands of Contar, who tossed it upfield. Looking up, Ipsum could see Leed standing over him. “And stay down,” she said, waggling her finger at him. Had he just been blindsided by a goalie? Leed had a smug look on her face, and that quickly set the tone for the game.

    On the ensuing possession, Polis Vayne, taking a pass from Moen Heatly, beat the goalie with a nice arcing shot that barely slipped in under the crossbar. The Senators had staked themselves to a quick 3-0 lead. But Gark was not about to celebrate just yet. Things could easily change in this game, and early leads would dissolve away with ease if a team wasn’t vigilant about keeping them.

    Things got even more dicey when the Patriots came back to score a goal. It was a play Leed couldn't make, and the score was tied. On the next possession, both teams chipped in a bar point, the Patriots off a Senator turnover and Coruscant on a nice dish into the zone that resulted in a punch over the bar.

    Luckily for Gark, the Senators didn’t fade away. Instead, they rolled. The Patriots offense couldn’t get anything going in the offensive zone, and it seemed like whenever they called out their play the Senators were right there, calling a counter audible so that the defense would be set correctly. It was an interesting battle to see Avano Koobis and Dirxx Horste going at it with each other, calling out audibles, counters, and hot routes on the fly to keep things interesting. However, unlike the previous week, the Senators defensive calls were working, and the Patriots were falling apart at the seams.

    At halftime, quite a few of the Senator starters were pulled from the game to keep them fresh in case the Patriots decided now would be a good time to stage a comeback. Polis Vayne had scored 10 points in the first half, registering a hat trick in that amount of time. He now had 14 goals on the season, quite an achievement for a guy playing in this kind of offense and who wasn’t in his prime anymore. The same went for the other starters, who despite not scoring still were factors in most games. There was no doubt that the Senators fans in the stands and at home were worried that the bench unit would screw up and let Chandrila back in the game, but Gark knew better. The Senators had always been a depth team in his GM tenure, and the reserves were always well-conditioned to play heavy minutes in the quick-swap offense system that Andrew Mundle had devised many years before. The name of the game was to have the freshest bodies available at the end of the game, but in this one that wasn’t needed. The bench unit battered the Patriot starters; Rayel Edare scored a pair of goals on great feeds from her teammates, and the other backup forwards chipped in bar points when possible.

    The score was so one-sided in the second half that the starters just stayed on the bench. On the day, they hadn’t been needed; the bench unit was scoring enough to keep pace with Chandrila, and then some. They were carrying the day, so the starters got a much-needed break as the game wound down. Gark knew that the veterans were glad that their careers would last at least one more week, if not more.

    Zadd, with about a minute left in the game, headed a deflection from a Patriot defender over the bar to make it 33-6. Many of the Patriot fans had already left, knowing that the game was long over and not willing to see the Senators revel in their victory. This was doubly true for the fact that a new rivalry trophy had been created for this game, and they wouldn’t be celebrating it. Instead, it would act as a symbol of shame for the next year, until the two teams met again to play for it.

    The horn finally sounded, and the Senators players knew that they were in the playoffs. There were some celebrations – Pam got covered in a Gundarkade bath – before they finished the postgame pleasantries. However, Gark had slunk out a few minutes early, the game already in hand. He had made his way down to the sideline, hanging in the background as the final seconds ticked off the clock. He was there to receive this new trophy, whatever it was supposed to be. Apparently no one knew exactly what it was, so rumor was the only way of getting any information on its existence.

    The trophy turned out to be a large black and green axe called the “Revolutionary Axe”. It was a lot heavier than Gark had expected when he got his turn to hold it up. The next thing he thought about was how to get it safely back to Coruscant; it wasn’t an issue getting it past security at the starport, but he mostly was worried about the item being damaged in travel. Therefore, it would take some planning before the axe could be safely taken back to Senators HQ.

    As the team filed back onto the shuttle after the game, there was excitement in the air. The Senators were back in the playoffs, ready to host the Conference Quarterfinal game against Mandalore. They had beaten the Mercs earlier in the year, but had never had much success against them at Andromeda. But, if there was any time to change that, the time was now.

    “So, how does it feel to have another game at home?” Gark asked as he talked to Dirxx on the way up the ramp.

    “Pretty damn good,” the Besalisk replied. “Hopefully we can finish the deal at home and go out with a win.”

    “I hope so,” Gark said. “The home fans will expect you to at least make a showing of it.”

    “I’m sure we will,” Dirxx said, nodding.

    Gark plunked down in the team lobby on the shuttle. The team filtered by in the hallway, chatting excitedly. When Jayla walked past, Gark called out at her. The goalie turned to look at the Bothan.

    “Nice game, Leed,” Gark said. “Keep that up next week.” Jayla just nodded and kept moving.

    Finally, at the end of the player stream, Me’lin came in to the lounge. Galin was absent, but Gark wasn’t worried that he had been left behind. How awkward that would be, not just as a parent . . . but to have a rivalry hold your child for ransom because you won a game. He wouldn’t put it past some Chandrilan fans to pull something like that; there were always bad apples like that in a fanbase. The Twi’lek came down and sat in a nearby chair.

    “So, you enjoy the game?” Gark asked.

    “Yeah,” his wife replied. “But I’m more troubled by this.” She tossed a datapad over to Gark, who read its contents.

    “I didn’t think you or I cared for the bucketheads,” Gark said after reading about the crap going down on Mandalore.

    “I don’t, but they may have more incentive to play next week. Never hurts to have something like this happen to get your team fired up,” Me’lin said.

    “Ah, got it,” Gark said. Whatever was going on in buckethead country, the Mercs would likely come to play the next week, so the Senators had to be ready for anything.


    TAG: @Trieste (for game stuff), @Bardan_Jusik for next week's game
    Last edited by Jedi Gunny, Jun 2, 2013
    Liam_Vehn, Bardan_Jusik and Trieste like this.
  19. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 5
    IC Post
    Club concourse, Bakura Gardens, Salis D'aar, Bakura



    Cundertol was thoroughly unsurprised by the result of the game. Not because he had expected the Mercs to win, but because he had expected Gaeriel Valerii to be herself. His head coach was nothing if not predictable. Fifteen minutes into the game she did exactly what he knew she was going to do: she pulled 14 of her 15 starters. The only one she left in was the rookie Ruunron. The kid had had a very rough rookie year, but his coach wasn't going to cut him any slack. Valerii knew that sitting the kid wasn't going to help him get better. It was the right move, just like it was to protect her star players. They were lucky that Andersen hadn't been worse shaken up by the big hit against the Senators she'd suffered. There was nothing on the line--Valerii wasn't going to tempt the Force by leaving them open to the heavy hitting Mercs.

    The Miner reserves were clearly not up to snuff for the Elite League, further exacerbating Cundertol's concerns when his contract expirations hit in full force. There clearly was not much in the pipleine. Well, that wasn't true entirely. Cundertol had his players out on loan to Premier League clubs to improve their skills. They were his bright spots and that was why he hadn't allowed the to dither on the bench all season. He was going to have to look very hard at whether they needed to come up next season and be on the reserves...or even starting.

    Curiously, Vhett was somewhat civil to him. Perhaps people were beginning to forget last season's Grames Award speech. Either that or winning put Vhett in a good mood. Or maybe a Commissioner's Trophy helped back him up. In any event, Vhett was pleased with herself.

    "Oh Aay'han," Quinn said before she left, "As for our business..." He paused. "...what makes you think you have anything I want?" He smiled, more a taunt than anything else. After all, he already had her first round pick...a pick that was now, at best, fifth from last in the draft. Though he didn't want to admit it, Cutter and Vhett had gotten the better of him in the trade.

    Hubris, the gift that kept on giving.



    Field level, Bakura Gardens, Salis D'aar, Bakura

    The Triestes had gone down to the field at the end of the game. The loss had not been pleasant to watch, but at least the Miners had escaped with no injuries to their starters. That was a boon going into the playoffs, and they hadn't hurt themselves in the process either. Not exactly the result they wanted on Truce Day, but if they had to lose at least there had been nothing lost as a result. Giving the Mercs playoff life was not pleasant...but Valerii had been happy to make the trade for protecting her players. The Noble House had not second guessed her.

    "We'll wait to do that until after the Semifinal if she blows it," Siona said wryly.

    With the game finished, Ayn Dormingale knew her moment had come. If she didn't act now, she never would. The stadium had stayed full for the postgame fireworks (which the Mercs had pointedly decided not to stick around for--and here Ayn thought they loved it when things exploded) and the Miner players had stayed on the field with their family or significant others to watch as well.

    "It's a wonder more teams don't do fireworks," Ayn commented, stepping up next to Declan. He hadn't ignored her today, but he hadn't sought her out either.

    "It's a simple enough pleasure," Declan said. Ayn supposed that was something of an agreement.

    "Declan--" she began.

    "We don't need to say anything about it," Declan said quietly, not looking at Ayn, but up at the sky for the bursts of color that had not yet started, "I should never have put you in that position."

    "Stop," she said firmly, "Just stop. You keep talking about it like it was a mistake, but you haven't stopped to think of whether it actually was one. It wasn't. Not for me, Declan. Not for me."

    Now he turned and looked at her. "What?"

    "You weren't a one night stand. I didn't sleep with you out of pity or to fulfill a passing desire. I did it because I have longed for you for years. I remember standing here, on this field, three years ago, and wanting you," Ayn said, "and I haven't stopped since then. So say whatever you want about what happened, but if you're going to call it a mistake, don't think that I agree with you."

    Declan stared at her. He said nothing, and she didn't either. She didn't know what else to say. She didn't know how she'd said what she already had. All she knew was that it had been said. Without a word Declan walked off. Ayn watched him go and somehow didn't feel bad about it.

    It was only a few seconds later that the explosions of light and color started in the sky above the stadium, but as Ayn turned her eyes on them, somehow she felt that the fireworks for the night had already happened.

    TAG: @Bardan_Jusik
    Liam_Vehn and Bardan_Jusik like this.
  20. jcgoble3 Force Ghost

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

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

    Limmie Futures League
    Week 7
    Concordia Crusaders at Druckenwell Marksmen (4–17)
    Kashyyyk Rangers at Tatooine Sandskimmers (25–5)
    Kamino Waves at Thyferra Force (25–1)
    Kessel Runners at Shili Suncrushers (22–7)
    Commenor Gundarks at Denon Demons (17–17, OT 17–22 [goal])


    Final Standings
    Grames Conference
    1. Tatooine Sandskimmers (5–2, conf. 3–1)
    2. Kessel Runners (5–2, conf. 2–2)
    3. Thyferra Force (3–4, conf. 1–3)
    4. Kamino Waves (2–5, conf. 2–2)
    5. Shili Suncrushers (2–5, conf. 2–2)

    Strensky Conference
    1. Denon Demons (5–2, conf. 3–1)
    2. Commenor Gundarks (4–3, conf. 2–2)
    3. Druckenwell Marksmen (3–4, conf. 2–2)
    4. Kashyyyk Rangers (3–4, conf. 2–2)
    5. Concordia Crusaders (3–4, conf. 1–3)

    Tiebreakers: In the Grames Conference, Kamino gets the #4 seed by way of beating Shili in week 3. In the Strensky Conference, Druckenwell gets the #3 seed by way of having beaten Kashyyyk in week 4.


    Playoffs

    Consolation Semifinals
    Strensky Conference
    (5) Concordia Crusaders at (4) Kashyyyk Rangers
    Grames Conference
    (5) Shili Suncrushers at (4) Kamino Waves
    Futures Cup Quarterfinals
    Strensky Conference
    (3) Druckenwell Marksmen at (2) Commenor Gundarks
    Grames Conference
    (3) Thyferra Force at (2) Kessel Runners

    Futures Cup Semifinals
    Strensky Conference
    Marksmen/Gundarks winner at (1) Denon Demons
    Grames Conference
    Force/Runners winner at (1) Tatooine Sandskimmers

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

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

    The Long Goodbye



    How do you say goodbye to the very thing you love more than anything?

    How do you walk away knowing that you still have a few more miles left in the tank?

    How do you encapsulate twelve years of passion, of blood spilled, of tears, of sweat, of victory, of defeat, in the final moments of your career?

    You don’t. You don’t even try.

    And so I didn’t.

    The game was over. And there I was, resting on my knees, utterly exhausted. It was as if twelve years of playing the beautiful game had finally caught up with me and all I could do was weakly let my gloved hands rest on the tired grass of Six Boroughs stadium. I don’t know how long I was there. I don’t know at what point I looked up at the smoky, hazy, atmosphere of Six Boroughs to see a sea of red undulating and rippling across the stands in sheer excitement. Somehow, my mind became slowly aware that I had achieved something great in my time with this franchise. Somehow, I began to register that I was being honored, respected, celebrated, by the sold out stadium with tears in their eyes, who had all the emotions that I should have been feeling. But all I could feel was a tiredness that seemed to span the length of a decade. I was beat. I was ready to go home. I was ready to call it a career.

    I didn’t cry when I shook the hands of the Rydonni Prime Monarchs who congratulated me on a successful career.

    I didn’t cry when my team carried me on their shoulders for one last ride to say goodbye to the fans.

    I didn’t cry when a copy of my jersey was officially retired right before my very eyes, a first for the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers organization.

    I didn’t cry when I said goodbye one last time to my teammates in the locker room.

    But I did cry when I hung up my gloves. When I took off my mud and grass stained cleats to watch them dangle in the locker one last time. When I ran a tired hand over my name on the back of my jersey, felt the stitching, the fine fabric, and relinquished the memories that I had trapped there for so long. And now my time as a Nar Shaddaa Smuggler was over. Just like that, in the blink of an eye, I was done and the world of Elite League Limmie had moved on to the post-season, to the draft, to a sporting world without Meredith Chambers.

    Reality had fully sunk in and as I wiped the tears from my face I realized that tomorrow I would wake up just another person, just another woman, trying to find their way in the sea of life. I was no longer the famous goalkeeper of the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers. I was no longer “Miss Clutch.” And for some strange reason, that no longer frightened me. For some reason I can’t explain, I actually welcomed the change. I welcomed the new journey I was going to take, starting tonight, starting now.

    As I took one final look at Six Boroughs, the venerable lady, I realized that I had already said my goodbye to her with my performance earlier in the night. Now it was time for me to step aside. To make room for the stars of tomorrow, to nod my head at the stars of the past, and disappear quietly into the night, for my time had come and gone. And that was okay. I had lived the dream, I had accomplished more than I could ever have hoped in my illustrious career. Now, it was time to walk away. To walk away and have a life outside of professional sports, to have a life just as rewarding, just as storied, and in my own way, just as famous.

    I wanted to have a family. I wanted to have a life where I wouldn’t wind up on some Holonet news story showcasing yet another athlete who couldn’t make the transition into the real world. I wanted to walk on my own legs, under my own power, while I still could. And so I walked. I turned my back on the stadium, on the fans, on the team, on everything that I had lived for till this very moment. And that, for me, was the right thing to do. My time was over.

    One by one, the lights of Six Boroughs shut down. Section by section, light fell into shadow, and much like my time with the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers, slipped into the ethereal memories of those who watched me play, of those who played against me, of those who played with me, and those who could never say, “I watched Meredith Chambers while she still had it.”

    Right before I took a taxi back to my apartment, I turned to look at the darkened stadium and quietly whispered, “So long, Six Boroughs.”

    And, just like that, my time with the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers was over.




    Vincent Cutter’s Office, New Vertica, Nar Shaddaa

    “Sit down, Meredith,” Cutter said.

    I complied, stared Cutter right in the eyes, not sure why he had called me a couple days after my last game. The post-season was about to be getting underway and I desperately wanted to catch the game so that I could see if Polis could pursue what I was unable to do: that elusive ring, that wonderful victory, and then retirement.

    “You realize how valuable you are to this organization?”

    “I have some sense,” I replied.

    “We want to offer you a coaching position,” Cutter said.

    My blood went ice cold. Sure, I’d mentored a few players in my time, but coaching, me? What, was he crazy?

    “What’s the position?”

    “Goalkeeper coach. We need your expertise back there in the net. You might not be able to play for us any longer, and I respect that, but lady, I’ll be damned if I’m going to let good talent go to waste. We’ve got a competition coming up in training camp this year and I need your eyes on the ground.”

    I hesitated. Couldn’t I enjoy a little break from Limmie? And then I thought more about it. What was I going to do with my time? Sit around my apartment and watch sappy soap-operas? Or get back on the field and help the next generation become great, or, at the very least, serviceable. Besides, the pay would help. Be a nice job to have, keep me in the loop, who knows, other former players eventually wound up to be head coach.

    “What do you say, Meredith?”

    “I’ll take it,” I blurted out.

    “Here’s our upcoming schedule. I think we can rotate Quillan and our other goalkeepers…”




    OOC: And back to third person...



    Vertical City University Commencement Speech, 273 ABY

    Meredith stood before a crowd of young college graduates, all bright-eyed, excited for their new lives, some of them hoping to achieve fame, others simply hoping to find a job in the tough economic market. She had been invited to speak at her alma mater as the keynote speaker, provide some words of wisdom to the youth that were about to embark on a new journey. Someone must’ve leaked to the media that she had given some pretty speeches of her own in the huddle before and during games for the Smugglers. That someone needed to be shot. She was sweating bullets over here and now she had to address a crowd of several thousand.

    “Good evening, class of 273!” Meredith began to the raucous cheers of the auditorium.

    When the applause had died down, when the deafening silence of the auditorium had settled, she spoke again, “I’ve thought long and hard about what to say for this speech. How best to prepare you guys and gals for the real world beyond the structured confines of university. And after many hours of contemplation, of writer’s block, I came up with one thing: dream.

    “Follow your dreams. Do not be afraid to pursue what you really want, to stand up for what you believe in, and to fight tooth and nail for what really matters. People, some of them may be very close to you, will tell you all the reasons why you can’t do something. Don’t you believe them, don’t you believe one word. All that ever matters is that you believe in yourself, in what you do, and success will follow.

    “I don’t want to hear that I can’t. I don’t want to hear that I won’t. I don’t want to hear excuses. Because even I had a few bad hands in life and I powered through it to get to where I wanted to be. I didn’t win three Galactic Cups and numerous awards as a professional athlete by sitting on my ass complaining about how the world did me wrong. I had the dream and I put in the time and I wouldn’t trade any of my experiences, any of them.

    “I chose to be a Nar Shaddaa Smuggler, I chose to be a Galactic Cup champion, I chose to be the best goalkeeper of my decade, not because it was easy, but because it was hard!”

    The students were on their feet now applauding, whistling.

    “So go forth, class of 273, and follow your dreams, live life to the fullest, and fear no regrets, fear no failure! Thank you, and best of luck.”

    She stepped away from the podium, waved to the crowd, and walked off the stage. As she stepped off the stage, her surgically repaired knee acted up a bit. She instinctively wrapped a hand around it and winced. The injury had never fully healed. Leaning against the railing, off the stage, Meredith grunted and pulled herself together. She hoped nobody saw her nearly collapse onto the ground. She couldn’t show any weakness. Not now, not ever.

    Such was the price of fame.

    Such was the price of seeking the glory, the passion, and the power, of Elite League Limmie.

    Tag: No One
    CPL_Macja, jcgoble3, Trieste and 2 others like this.
  22. 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

    Taab was flung back by the force of the explosion before he came crashing down onto the hard floor with a dull thud. "What the..." he exclaimed as he peered out through the dust towards where the balcony, where the mand'alor, had been. Unable to see through the dust and smoke he slowlym stood up. He was already battered and bruised from the fight, being thrown to the ground by the explosion had done his body no favors. Still fortune seemed to smile on him somewhat as he realized he had sustained no major injuries, and had even been deposited near where he had lain his armor plates. He began to quickly strap these into their proper position.

    Below and outside, the explosion had come as a complete shock to those gathered on the plaza to watch Ordo speak for the first time as mand'alor. Many of the aruetiise had screamed in horror or ducked away from the blast. The mando'ade in attendance, while no less shocked, reverted to years of training as warriors and mercenaries. Almost as one, rifles and carbines, flame projectors and wrist rocket launchers were brought up to a ready position, their owners scanning for threats behind their T-visors. But none were to be found, there was no follow up attack to the blast.

    Above them the Mandalorian Protectors now sprang into action. They had failed in their duty to keep the Hall and the mand'alor safe, but they would do their all to ensure no other attacks occurred. Some taking to the air with their jetpacks, while others stayed below on the ground, they established a perimeter around the blast site they "discouraged" unauthorized personnel, mando and aruetii alike, from getting too close to the scene. A quartet of emergency responders jetpacked up into the midst of the perimeter, spraying down the blaze with fire retardant from their wrist gauntlets. As soon as it was under control a pair of combat medics moved in, but they had seen the explosion and already knew what they would find.

    Taab had just finished getting the last of his plates into place and was about to replace his buy'ce on his head when the weary looking battlemaster approached him. It had been this man who had run the conclave, and the fight. The attack on the Hall was a stain upon his honor. And it had to be an attack. There were no energy conduits out there on the balcony. No accident could have caused a blast of that size. Someone had tried to kill the new mand'alor and Taab knew that every Mandalorian would be out for blood.

    The battlemaster came right to the point. "Ordo is dead, the blast took his head clean off." shab, Taab thought to himself. His people wouldn't just be out for blood, there would be an almost unquenchable thrist for revenge now. "There is no time for a conclave, we need action now. The other clan leaders are in agreement." Taab met the man's eyes through his T-visor before putting his own bucket on then nodded once in understanding. The fires were out now, though a pall of smoke still hung over the building. Not so unlike the smoke that had signaled the results of the various votes Taab thought grimly.

    He moved through the dust now. The floor itself was covered in some scattered debris, though oddly enough, no blood was there. the balcony itself had disintegrated in the blast, and the doorway to where it had once been was now just a hole in the wall. Taab walked through that hole before igniting his jetpack and hovered over the plaza. Flanked by two Protectors, he surveyed the crowd.

    "Mando'ade today is a day which will live in infamy. We have been suddenly and deliberately attacked by forces as yet unknown to us. Our mand'alor has fallen to this cowardly attempt, but we will not be cowed so easily. They shall find that they have awoken a slumbering giant and filled him with a terrible resolve! We shall rise up and exact our revenge on those who have done this to us. We shall not tire, we shall not falter, and we shall not fail." The crowd was all looking to him now, many recognized his armor but for those who did not, and for the holo-cams now broadcasting this across the galaxy he announced. "I, Beskaryc Taab, now declare myself mand'alor the Avenger, and I swear by the manda, vengeance shall be ours."




    IC: Jaya "barefoot" Tam
    Team shuttle, enroute to Mandalore

    The news had hit the team hard, just as their own moment of triumph was really sinking in the news had come to them about the blast. Almost immediately the Nulls had jumped up, ready to take the fight to whoever had done such a thing to their world. But no one knew just what had happened. The team had taken to channel jumping the holo news networks to try to piece it all together.

    Vornskr News quickly reached the conclusion that it was an assassination attempt, and a prelude to war. Who perpetrated it depended on which "expert" the Zeltron host talked to, ranging from rogue Jedi to the Republic, to a Mandalorian coup. HNN wasn't ready to call it an attack just yet and was still running the "we don't know yet" angle, disclaiming that it could all be some sort of terrible accident. HNGBC wasn't even covering it yet, instead droning on about some story regarding "droid rights", whatever those were.

    Tam didn't know what to think about all of this. She hadn't really assimilated well to the mandalorian way of life, but she did know that they were angry, and you never wanted to make a mandalorian angry. The shuttle decanted from hyperspace and they and their escort were greeted by a flight of Mandalorian fighters. Word spread throughout the cabin that the planet was under lock down, but that the team shuttle would be allowed to land and that team operations would not be hindered. After all their owner was in charge now.




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

    Vhett tried her best to put the events of the past few days behind her. The team had won at Bakura, for the first time. Not only that they had secured a playoff berth, something that was oft times difficult for teams that had participated in the Finals just the year before. But all that was almost forgotten now with the furor going on over the attack on MandalMotors Hall. How was it done, who would be brazen enough to assassinate the newly installed leader of a warrior people? These questions and more were being asked across the planet, and even across the galaxy by Mandalorians everywhere. For Vhett the thoughts hit even closer to home, her husband was the new mand'alor, head of state, leader of the Mandalorian people, and the primary target she was sure in a war where the enemy was a complete unknown.

    She did her best to push those thoughts to the back of her mind. She still had a team to run, and with Taab being ever more involved in matters of planetary security, many of the ownership responsibilities had fallen squarely on her buy'ce as well. It was something she was accustomed too, after the Kaminoan incident, and the recent drawn out conclave, but now the dark cloud of recent events hung over her as well. Thankfully the Mercs would be the away team for the entirety of their playoff run. She didn't relish the idea of providing security at the stadium under current circumstances.

    It also allowed her to focus on her GM role over an ownership one, at least for now. She had the team doctors report regarding Daryc on her desk now. He might be able to play in the game on Coruscant, but he certainly wouldn't be starting. Not yet anyway. There was also the upcoming draft to consider and her computer was filled with scouting reports of various potential draftees to go over. the Mercs didn't have a first round pick this season, having traded it away to the Miners, but there were always ways to address that.

    Then there was the playoff game itself. She had no idea how the team would handle everything that was going on. many she knew wanted to go and fight, who it didn't matter, so long as they had their revenge. Others, especially the aruetiise players, were harder to predict. Would they be able to focus on the game at hand with everything going on around them? It was a huge question mark, but she trusted in Coach Vizsla's ability to sharpen that focus, and bring them all back to where they needed to be.

    She knew one thing, the Senators would be ready to avenge their own playoff loss to the Mercs the previous season, and they would take no pity on the Mandalorian team. She also knew that this one was more than just a game to the mando'ade. This was a matter of pride now. Her people had been sucker punched, and for a prideful people like the Mandalorians, that was a hard thing to swallow. This game could help to recover some of that swagger, and get them in the right frame of mind for their own revenge which was sure to come.

    TAG: Gunny for any game stuff. No one on everything else.

    [IMG]
  23. Bardan_Jusik Mand'alor - Manager of the EUC, SWC and Spinoffs

    Manager
    Member Since:
    Dec 14, 2009
    star 10
    [IMG]

    Mando'ade Mercs Injury report:

    Jeem Daryc, Center half forward, probable for Solo Conference semi-finals at Coruscant. (ACL Sprain)

    [IMG]
    Trieste likes this.
  24. Trieste Force Ghost

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

    "The Miners have certainly been doing well ever since you became a permanent visitor to the Noble House's box," Sabé Dormingale said to her granddaughter over dinner, "A Galactic Cup and now a Commissioner's Trophy. Not a bad record."

    "No, not at all," Ayn agreed.

    "You've done everything you can to get Declan's attention," Sabé said, "Remember that, if nothing else." That caused Ayn to pause, her fork four inches from her mouth. Her grandmother noticed. "What?"

    "I just realized I haven't done everything," Ayn said simply.

    "What are you going to do?" Sabé asked suspiciously.

    "Nothing. Not until tomorrow, anyways," Ayn replied.



    Pioneer Pub, Golden Prairie, Bakura

    One of the favorite hangouts of UBTV students was the Pioneer Pub, named for their sports mascot by someone who clearly liked alliteration. Of course, this wasn't exactly the greatest season for the Pioneers. They'd been barred from postseason competition by the Bak10 before the season had even begun, causing a furor in the Telaan Valley and much moping over how "unfair" the conference was being. Add to the fact that their archrivals at PCNS had taken home the Galactic College championship with the hated Falene Trieste leading the way and things weren't exactly great down in the Valley these days on the sporting side. As proper college students, they did what any sensible college student did in such a situation: hit the bars.

    Sophomore Becca Durst was one such student who was two beers into the night already when she got company to her right side on the barstool.

    "Blonde ale."

    Becca looked at the newcomer, who was wearing a Pioneer sweatshirt and slacks. "Hey," Becca said.

    [IMG]

    "Hey," Ayn Dormingale sighed. She was trying to fly casual. She and Becca had only met a couple of times and she was banking on the fact that Becca would never expect proud Golden Bear Ayn Dormingale to wear a Pioneers sweatshirt, that the city girl would ever be blonde, and she was also hoping that Durst was something of a lightweight with her booze, further reducing the chances that she'd be able to reach back into her memory to remember an acquaintance of such minor proportions.

    Ayn slumped unhappily against the bar as her beer arrived. "Cheers," Ayn said, her tone of voice suggesting anything but celebration. She took a long drink.

    "Rough day?" Becca asked.

    "Yeah," Ayn said, "Yeah. Finding out that my boy--excuse me, ex-boyfriend was frakking the redhead in Dorn Grek would qualify as a rough day." Becca wasn't sure what to say to that. Her eyes shifted awkwardly. "Don't worry, I already set fire to all of his stuff. And might have keyed his speeder." She smiled.

    "I'm not going to say he didn't deserve it," Becca said, "Men."

    Ayn whistled the tender down. "Can we get some shots down here?"



    "...and that was when I said, 'Oh really, because I'm way better looking than that nerf!'" Ayn said and she was joined by Becca in drunken laughter.

    Well, Becca's was drunken anyways. Ayn's was not. She'd paid the bartender off to water hers down earlier in the evening. She wasn't exactly sober, but she was way more sober than Durst was. And Becca Durst was probably now drunk enough for Ayn to do what she'd come here to do.

    "Oh my Maker I've gone on and on and on and on and on all night about my terrible taste in men. I mean terrrrrrrrible," Ayn said, "I haven't even asked you about your dates. You probably have lots and lots of boys. I mean with your Senator dad and everything." Over the course of the evening Becca had mentioned her relationship to Senator Madsen.

    "No, there's nobody," Becca said.

    "Oh come on! You probably meet loads of city boys in Salis D'aar," Ayn said, giving Becca a playful shove. It almost sent Becca off her barstool not from the force but from a lack of balance on Becca's part.

    "That's just it. They're all city boys. They've never even held a blaster. They probably couldn't start a fire without a thermal detonator," Becca said.

    Ayn laughed. "I dunno. I've been to Atalanta. There are some pretty boys there. I wouldn't mind having fun with one of them." As someone who had lived in Salis D'aar, Ayn thought Atalanta a bore. Most of the men there were underwhelming. But she was trying to lead an eopie to water here...

    "Well, there was one guy," Becca admitted.

    "I knew it! I knew it!" Ayn said.

    "My Dad introduced us. He's...well, he's in Salis D'aar. Well he was. Now he lives here."

    Yes. Ayn had to work to keep her drunken facade up. "And you said you didn't have anyone!" Ayn protested.

    "Well I don't. See, my Dad...he's the one who thinks that he and I should get together."

    Ayn's mind started whirring. "Are you telling me that your Dad is trying to marry you off or something?" It actually sounded plausible, but delivered with an inebriated slur of the voice it sounded ridiculous.

    "No no no nooooooooo," Becca said, "He just...thought we'd work well together."

    "Well, how do you feel?" Ayn asked.

    Becca paused. "He's nice and all...but I don't know. I mean, he's clearly interested...but...I don't know. I was raised in Blackbranch. I was raised around real males, you know what I mean?"

    "Don't I ever. Reminds me of this guy I dated, Kalek," Ayn said dreamily.

    "Kalek?" Becca said. She hadn't heard about him.

    "Two words: rippling pectorals," Ayn said.

    "No."

    "Yes."

    As Ayn told her somewhat fictitious story of Kalek of the impeccable pecs, she pieced everything together. Declan Trieste might have been captivated by Becca Durst on her own merits, but Silas Madsen had realized it and he had decided that having his adopted daughter married into the Noble House would not hurt his political fortune. Ayn had thought she was going against a guileless opponent. In reality, she had been jockeying against a crafty political operator. This changed everything--and then everything changed again as a very drunk Becca circled back to her mystery suitor.

    "Luckily I don't have to worry about that city boy," Becca confessed, "He found out that my Dad was trying to set us up and got mad. He hasn't been very interested since then."

    "Boys. Always getting mad over stupid stuff," Ayn said. If she had to bet, Declan had learned about Madsen's intriguing before the Coruscant-Chandrila road trip. That would explain a lot.

    "Yeah," Becca said, getting sleepy, "Stupid boys..."

    "Come on dear, we need to get you in a cab," Ayn said, helping/dragging Becca off her barstool.

    Ayn wished Becca no ill will, especially not now, and she made sure that Becca made it back to her dorm safe. After all, she'd gotten what she had come here for.

    Now she'd done everything that she could have.

    TAG: None
    jcgoble3 and Liam_Vehn like this.
  25. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 5
    GM Post
    Commissioner’s Reception area, Elite League offices, Corucant

    “They’ve been in there all day,” the Mon Calamari secretary/personal assistant/gatekeeper of the Elite League Commissioner said.

    “And they’re not allowing anyone in?” the Chiss accountant asked.

    “Explicit instructions,” the Mon Calamari said.

    “Whenever she gets the General Counsel in there, something’s brewing,” the Chiss said, “Something big.”

    “You’re telling me. Though I’m starting to get worried. I’ve commed in twice to say that the Commissioner is supposed to meet the press downstairs in…” She checked her chrono. “…now it’s five minutes. She’s supposed to announce—”

    The door to the Commissioner’s office and Esther Gondorf and Niakara Kayl’hen exited. “Jelise, I need you to get me Verity Vehn, Beskaryc Taab, and Ira Clarke when I get back. Tell them it’s important.” Kayl’hen started to walk out of the reception area outside her office, but stopped and came back. “Actually, get me the Chancellor too. And Londy Whiste.” She then turned and walked off again, only to return a few seconds later. “And someone from the Patriots’ Board of Governors.” She was quite finished this time…until she came back a few moments later. “And the K’ntarrs. And Wilrax Tunran. Oh, just call a Board of Governors meeting,” Kayl’hen said, throwing her arms up, “But still get me Vehn, Taab, and Clarke when I get back.”

    Now the Bothan moved off for good, leaving the Mon Calamari and Chiss gazing after her.

    “Yeah, something big is happening…” the Chiss said.

    “Actually, I think something huge…” the Mon Calamari said.



    Press Briefing Room, Elite League offices, Coruscant

    “Good afternoon, gentlebeings,” Kayl’hen said just a few minutes later, “As we approach the Conference Semifinals, it is my pleasure to announce the finalists for the Elite League’s season awards, which recognize excellence at every level of the league. They are as follows.”

    The large vidscreens at the front of the room displayed the 273 nominees, which were as follows:

    Salbukk Award (League MVP)
    • Argo Mor’kesh (Mando’ade Mercs)
    • Aron Rodders (Bakura Miners)
    • Polis Vayne (Coruscant Senators)
    Ingbrand Award (Rookie of the year)
    • Jaya Tam (Mando’ade Mercs)
    • Zoa Vra (Ylesia Lightning)
    • Ema Zostin (Rydonni Prime Monarchs)
    Duchess Eldin Award (for sportsmanship and athletic excellence)
    • Meredith Chambers (Nar Shaddaa Smugglers)
    • Chenkabuk (Euceron Storm)
    • Mara Singus (Rydonni Prime Monarchs)
    Zumtak Award (for dedication and perseverance to the sport of limmie)
    • Meredith Chambers (Nar Shaddaa Smugglers) in recognition of an outstanding thirteen year career
    • K’ntarr Sports Entertainment Group (Rydonni Prime Monarchs) for the expansion of limmie throughout the Colonies
    • The Noble House of Trieste (Bakura Miners) for fostering limmie on Bakura for over 60 years
    Jaya Tam (Mando’ade Mercs) for perseverance during her rookie season
    Langann Award (Coach of the year)
    • Pamila Korthe (Coruscant Senators)
    • Gaeriel Valerii (Bakura Miners)
    • Adenn Vizsla (Mando’ade Mercs)
    Grames Award (GM of the year)
    • Setarcos Rhemes (Rydonni Prime Monarchs)
    • Yore Vex Ten (Vandelhelm Jets)
    • Aay’han Vhett (Mando’ade Mercs)
    “We have a truly outstanding group of nominees this season,” Kayl’hen said, “And after the success of holding the awards ceremony on the hostworld of the Galactic Cup Final, we are pleased to announce that we will be holding the 273 Elite League Season Awards in Eusebus, Euceron.”

    “Won’t that conflict with the Galactic Games?” one reporter asked.

    “We’re confident that organizers in Eusebus have scheduled things properly,” Kayl’hen said.

    “Commissioner, there’s a very and I mean very strong Solo Conferene bias here. In fact, I count only three nominations for the Skywalker Conference when there are 18 total nomination slots. What do you say to charges of Solo Conference bias?” another reporter asked.

    “The Solo Conference had a very strong season,” was the totality of the Commissioner’s reply.

    “Holonet ratings and attendance for the Solo Confernece were significantly greater than that of the Skywalker Conference. Is the League rewarding its most financially stable teams over its emerging markets?”

    “Ralltiir actually showed impressive attendance numbers this season and strong Holonet ratings,” Kayl’hen said, “The truth is that the achievements of teams in the Solo Conference were, by and large, greater than those of the Skywalker Conference. We recognized the Skywalker Conference teams where appropriate in these nominations.”

    “So you’re saying that the Solo Conference is stronger than the Skywalker Conference then?” a reporter asked.

    Kayl’hen paused. “I’m not going to call a mynock a dewback. The Solo Conference had four teams with winning records. The Skywalker Conference had one. I think that speaks for itself and the nominations reflected the reality of this season appropriately. Thank you all, I look forward to seeing you at the awards ceremony.”

    TAG: @Bardan_Jusik @CPL_Macja @jcgoble3 @Jedi Gunny @JediMaster1511 @JM_1977 @Liam_Vehn @Rebecca_Daniels @Runjedirun @Teegirloo (for voting by PM. No response required for the mysterious and intriguing mention by the Commissioner...though it is quite mysterious and intriguing...)
    Runjedirun and Bardan_Jusik like this.
Moderators: Penguinator, Ramza