Star Wars OPEN Elite League Limmie

GM Post

"With the twentieth pick in the draft, the Ylesia Lightning select Lisbeth Tobin Center Half Back, College of Fondorelphia," Kayl'hen said. She silently hoped that everyone was going to keep the last two draft picks straight. She didn't want the League to be fielding thousands of calls asking about Lisbeth Comstock and Lizbit Tobin.

"The Coruscant Senators are now on the clock."

TAG: Jedi Gunny

 

GM Post

"With the twenty first pick in the 275 draft, the Coruscant Senators select Jamee Meels Left Half Back, Orn Free Ta Central Academy," Kayl'hen announced.

"With the twenty second pick, the Euceron Storm select Gers Tesam, Goalkeeper, Chandrila A&M University.

"With the twenty third pick, the Bakura Miners select...Eponette Ternardiel, Half Back, Vertical City University," Kayl'hen said. She looked up at the Miners table again for this new off-the-scanner pick and Cundertol had already stood and nodded.

"And with the twenty fourth and final pick of the 275 Elite League Limmie Draft, the Euceron Storm select Britranny Gryner Half Back, Coruscant Polytechnic Institute," Kayl'hen announced.

"This concludes the 275 Draft. I would like to thank all of the fans who attended today's event, which was quite exciting with all of the draft day activity to say the least," Niakara said, "I'd like to thank our hosts here on Hapes for providing us with this wonderful space for our enjoyment, despite the fact their home town Buccaneers--" the C-Buc fans in attendance cheered, "--did not participate in this year's draft. We'll see all of you at opening day. Thank you, and good afternoon."

---

All undrafted players have been added to the free agent post. PM me to claim any of them. All these players are on 48 hour hold (i.e. mid day Pacific Thursday) to allow competing claims to be made.

TAG: Bardan_Jusik CPL_Macja jcgoble3 Jedi Gunny Rebecca_Daniels Runjedirun Tim Battershell Vehn

 

IC: Aay'han Vhett
Teneniel Chume Hall, Hapes

This was supposed to have been a simple draft, an easy draft. Vhett had just wanted to use the draft as best she could to fill the vacancies on the roster left by the war. She would take the best talent and then pick over the leftovers of the free agent market to fill in any remaining holes. Her initial trade had changed all that. The frenzy of activity in the Mercs draft room at that point had become infectious. Soon nearly her entire offense was on the block in her quest for more draft picks. Not long thereafter the dominoes began to fall.

It began with a simple trade with the Monarchs. Their front office must know something about next year's draft that the Mercs had not yet discerned. Still like the earlier trade with the Smugglers, the deal was too good to pass up. But Vhett wanted even more, and she knew where to go to get it.

Following the Monarch's pick of the second Chiss goaltender taken in the first round she knew that Cundertol had to be furious. The Miners needed a new goaltender, and now the two best ones were off the board. Maybe they would be willing to deal one of those early 2nd round picks. Looking over her draft board Vhett now knew who she would take given the opportunity, so she went to find Cundertol personally. Her proposal was...unorthodox, and a first for the ELL draft. If anyone could make it work though, it would be them.

Approaching him she could see his anger, and his exclamation about needing a goaltender did not go unnoticed. She smiled behind her T-Visor, knowing that her prior pick had in some small way hurt him. It was perhaps not the most gracious of thoughts given that the Miner's predicament was caused by one man's patriotism and efforts on the behalf of her own people's cause, but the thought was there nonetheless.

Still she stowed such thoughts away as she leaned over his table and presented her proposition. The rage he felt was palpable, but to his credit he heard her out. Still he didn't seem receptive to her idea, and she was prepared to move on to a lesser deal she had in the works with the Starkillers, but one of Cundertol's minions convinced him to at least offer a counter proposal. It wasn't an acceptable offer of course, but at least the pair were talking. She continued to negotiate before leaving him with a final offer to mull over while she pried away a low third round pick from the Starkillers for Flarn.

She shook her head as the deal was announced. Flarn had been such a highly thought of forward to the Mercs front office. An excellent backup, and a potential starter down the road. But he lacked judgement. He had lost the entirety of last season due to an off season injury sustained while playing an unsanctioned pickup game of zoom ball. Who endangers a career for child's game? Especially one as boring and pedantic as zoomball. His contract was renewed for another season, but neither the Mercs nor Flarn were too happy about it, but both committed out of a lack of other options. The wheeling and dealing going on here though gave them both some flexibility.

She managed to secure a third round pick from the Starkillers GM. She had been hoping to acquire a upper end third rounder, or even a low second rounder for the player, but his contract situation just didn't merit that. She took the third rounder and was glad for it. If the trade proposal with the Miners went through then they could be in decent shape, and might even be able to replace Flarn. If not, a player would have to be promoted from Concordia to take his place.

Her answer to the question of how the trade talks were going over with the Miners when Cundertol called out to her, mere moments after the Starkiller's trade had been announced. He had yet another proposal for her, one that she found... acceptable. The deal was quickly struck and within moments it too had been announced. Vhett went immediately over to the Mercs table, where Daryc still sat. He seemed excited, and somewhat perplexed, by the moves the Mercs had made thus far. He knew that they had never intended to be so involved. Vhett explained things to him over a secure link, so they could not be over heard.

"We still need help at cornerback. Gamble was the best talent out there, but there are two others that could fit." Daryc nodded in reply "Jaaxon or Zeisel."

"Vhett inclined her own head back to him. "Very good," she then wrote out the draft pick on a card and handed it to a runner to be given to the commissioner. "Zeisel would be a serviceable backup, but I want Jaaxon. He is tough, athletic and fast. The perfect understudy to our Whipid enforcer." Daryc understood immediately. "He is a VCU grad, they are always tough as nails, you have to be to get through VCU."

The pick was announced and Vhett looked to the Smugglers table to see what they would do next. Jaxxon was a local kid to them, if they had wanted a corner he would probably be their choice. Judging by their pick she should be able to tell where they had been leaning. It was Zeisel. For the second time in the span of a few minutes Vhett smiled at her good fortune. The Smugglers were angling to take the VCU cornerback, and now she had snatched him away from them just as he was about to fall into their grasp. The Smuggler's loss was the Mercs gain. She was sure that Nar Shaddaa would do their best to repay the Mercs at their next meeting. Good, the Mercs would enjoy the challenge, and it would only increase the growing rivalry between the two teams. Vhett never thought she would see the day when another team supplanted the Miners as the Mercs most hated rival, but in just a short time the Smugglers had certainly done so.

With the Smuggler's pick in the Mercs were again on the clock. So many draft picks and so little time. Thus far the run had been on defensive players, another reason for Vhett to be glad they had moved up in the draft. Their biggest holes had been on the side of the ball. Now though it was time to address some of their offensive deficiencies. The Helmsman trophy winner had somehow managed to fall this far. She was a smaller player than generally looked for at her position, and perhaps that was why she had not been taken n the first round. But her style of play would work well with the Mercs spread offense. It was a gift that she had fallen this far, and soon there after Ariva Kendal was also in the fold. She would probably be stashed away at Concordia, but depending on how training camp went there was a possibility of her breaking training camp with the Mercs. Vhett settled in to see who would go next. The Mercs had another pick to make.

Her pick of Kendal had sparked a short run on forwards now, with the Lightning and Senators each taking an offensive player. Vhett was poised to continue that run but something stopped her. Even with the addition of yet another forward, the Mercs offense was going to be raw this upcoming season. Truth be told, she saw little room for much imrpovement over last year's horrendous offensive output. It would take some time for the batch of new starters to gell and come together as a unit. So perhaps this was the time to take the best talent left on the board regardless of position.

She looked the list of remaining players over, Gozer's name jumped out at her. He had been slated as the Mercs first pick under "Plan B" had the Monarchs gone with Patton at #1 overall. Even under Plan A he was to be one of the options with their second pick. The trade with the Smugglers had filled that particular hole at midfielder, and so she had let Gozer go. She had been surprised to see him fall this far, but many teams were set at that position now. Still the Devaronian was quite talented, and he could provide depth if Horonel couldn't handle the ELL, or if Vau self destructed again. Yes, there were still holes on offense, but now was the time the to gamble a bit and just take the best player left. They would go with Gozer "the Destructor".

Her last pick made, Vhett left the draft table and went back to the Mercs "draft room". Their draft was over, but the off season battles were about to begin.

TAG: No One.

 

IC: Gark S’rily
Teneniel Chume Hall, Hapes

As the first round of the Draft wound down, the Senator War Room was already hard at work on their next pick. There were possibilities to work with here: they could keep the pick, using it on a player who would likely see time on Thyferra, if not spend the entire season there. Leah Nergbolt, the second-round half back from last year’s Draft, had done just that, so why not now? They could also trade the pick for a player; although there was no real need, the Senators could flip the pick for an established player, someone who was on the outs with their team, perhaps? An offer had come in earlier, but the Senators had replied that they would think on this until their pick at thirteen neared. Or they could even package that pick and other pieces for other picks. This Draft was already becoming one of the most furious, if not the most active, event in its five-year history, so nothing was off the table right now.

When the Monarchs took their pick at eight, it was funny to the entire room to see Quinn Cundertol fly off the handle at the Miner table about needing a goalie. No doubt other teams were finding this extremely hilarious as well, as most everyone wanted to see Cundertol squirm. Getting him to yell was an extra little bonus, especially about his draft plans.

“I think we go offense here,” Gark commented. “Stash pick, most likely. Someone to boost the Force’s offense for this year, and then we can use next year. Also gives us a chance to see how those two new forwards will work out this season.”

“I agree,” Adanna said. Gark acknowledged that she finally agreed with him on something. What a shock given their short work relationship thus far. “Offense is a need as well, but maybe not for the team now. We have enough talent to make things happen this season. After that, we could use some additional talent to call upon. Or if there is an injury, we have a safety blanket.”

“Who’s left on the board?” Dirxx asked. Me’lin recalled the board at the time of the beginning of the second round.

“Lots of half forwards,” Adanna commented. “Don’t need one just yet.”

“Wait . . . we need a corner, don’t we?” Gark asked suddenly.

“Yeah . . . so?” Dirxx asked.

“Look. Number three,” Gark pointed to the board. “Pin. She’ll fit our needs perfectly.”

“How so?” Alysha asked.

“We need a corner to fill out our roster, one,” Gark began, “but she brings size to the position. Anyone remember how big an asset Syprul was? What if we can add that same size on the corner to team with Qorbus?”

“And then we have multiple options at corner,” Adanna continued. “We have size forwards, fast forwards, and can mix and match. Of course!”

“We can play to the weaknesses of the opposing defense on the edges, and use them to free up the half forwards,” Gark finished. “I think we need to take Pin here if she falls to us.”

“You think that’ll happen?” Me’lin inquired.

“No idea. But we can hope,” Gark said. “Either that, or we take Lerouex here. We could use a Helmsman nominee forward, especially at Full.”

Pick number nine was in. Pin was still out there. Same with pick number 10. The Mercs, with their glut of picks, were up.

“They don’t need a corner forward,” Alysha commented.

“Like hell,” Dirxx said. “As they have shown today, anything goes. They might just take our girl here.”

But they didn’t. Instead, the Mercs took Ariva Kendal, the Helmsman winner. This drew a collective sigh of relief from the Senator contingent. Now they just had one more pick to wait, with Ylesia on the board. Everyone knew that the Lightning didn’t take humans, so Sojuria was off the board for them. But Pin, being a non-human, might be on their board.

Gark crossed his fingers, hoping that Pin would fall. He could see the agony of the Lightning taking her and fits of anger here in the War Room at having to make a different pick. They had to take Pin . . . one Mock Draft said the Lightning would. But would they?

"We have another trade to announce," Kayl'hen said. The crowd loved it. "The Euceron Storm send the sixteenth overall pick in the 275 draft to Nar Shaddaa in exchange for the twenty-second overall pick in the 275 draft and the Smugglers' third round pick in the 276 draft.

“This suspense is killing me!” Dirxx moaned.

Finally the Commissioner came up with the Lightning’s pick. "With the twelfth pick in the draft, the Ylesia Lightning select Fuva Mu'tish, Midfielder, Bonadan School of Business.”

This set off a celebration in the Senator War Room. Pin was now available to take. Gark quickly commed Pam that their pick was coming, and Adanna made sure the pick was submitted.

"With the thirteenth pick in the draft, the Coruscant Senators select Vail Pin, Corner Forward, University of Bakura, Gesco City.”

As the Shistavanen was shown in the crowd going to the Senator table, Gark knew that he could take a sigh of relief. Pin was now in the fold, and that would definitely push McKerty and Persnor to do better this season. He wanted to push the Cathar especially after her bad season, but perhaps Pin’s presence would open up spaces in the gaps for the smaller forward?

“Now, what do we do with our last pick?” Dirxx asked as the Mercs were once again on the clock.

“This will be a stash pick,” Gark clarified. “Or, at least if we keep it.”

“Can we get anything in return for such a low pick?” Me’lin asked.

“Doubtful,” Adanna said. “We might as well keep it and use it. But with no major needs, we can just make a pick off the board of the best remaining player. We can go offense, defense, or goalie here. Maybe even middie, but I doubt we want to do that.”

“I would appreciate it if we didn’t,” Alysha said.

“We could even go off the board here if we want to, although at that point it’s really a crap shoot,” Gark said. “A lot of those players don’t do so well at this level, so it would be a major gamble.”

“But we can take that gamble here with a stash pick,” Adanna replied. “Find an athlete, and then pick their position later. See what we can find and go with it.”

The rest of the second round concluded without much fanfare, and it was on to the third round. The Miners made an off-the-board pick, surprisingly. Or maybe it wasn’t. The two goalies on the Big Board, as it was sometimes known, weren’t that great, really. Chandrila A&M had been downright terrible last season, and the Coruscant School of Fine Arts . . . the name said it all. How Mu’tish had been listed out of a business school, one could only conjecture.

Then Ylesia was up again. The Senator staff was still unsure who to take here, although they had their eyes on several players at forward and defender. And a few off-board picks were also in the hunt at this point. They could go with just about anything now, since all cuffs were off. There were no major needs at the moment, and a gamble (no pun intended in regards to their first-round pick) could be made.

The Lightning made their pick, and the Senators were back on the clock.

“All right, people. This is it,” Gark said. “Who do we take?”

“I think we need a defender,” Adanna replied. “Preferably someone with some size.”

“Size?” Alysha asked.

“You know, a physical defender who isn’t afraid to hit someone,” Adanna said. “We have enough speed to work with. But what we need is someone to clog the lane and make their presence felt. Someone like . . . hm . . . Meels.”

“Meels?” Alysha asked. “But he’s at the bottom of the board. If we want a half back, take Gryner. She’s higher-rated.”

“I’d take a Talz over a human any day for size,” Adanna said. “Besides, from what I see in this report, the kid is raw. Real raw. But athletically gifted. Give him a season or two down in the minors, and we have a skillful big guy to clog the lane. And, if it doesn’t work out, all we’re out is a third-rounder. Not the worst gamble to take.”

“We seem to say ‘gamble’ a ton,” Dirxx commented.

“We better not say that too much around our first-round pick. She might get confused if we’re talking about her or not,” Gark said.

“Good point,” Adanna said. “But I think Meels can help us. If not here, at least down a level.”

“Then make it so,” Gark replied. Soon, Meels was in the fold, and the Senators were done with the Draft.

“Well done, everyone,” Gark said as the last pick, Gryner, was made by Euceron. “Now we can go into the offseason with some questions. But we can also take a bit of time off before things get hectic. I will see you all next week.”


TAG: No One

 

IC: Kaitlyn Vehn
Teneniel Chume Hall, Hapes, 275 Draft

Everything had gone perfectly so far in the draft as the yearly pageant entered into the second round. Kaitlyn was beyond confident she’d get her man. Her analysis hadn’t been wrong so far and wouldn’t be wrong at all if she had anything to say about it.

Everything was going to plan. All she needed was for the Bakura Miners to hurry up and enter their draft pick.

And then all hell broke loose.

The Mando’ade Mercs, rivals in all the little ways that mattered to the Smugglers, had somehow worked out a last second deal with the Miners for the opening pick of the second round. Kaitlyn’s blood turned ice cold as she watched Aay'han Vhett write something down on a note card for the runner. Something wasn’t right here. Vhett looked far too pleased with herself and Kaitlyn knew the Mercs had needs at every level of their roster. Her stomach tightened in anxiety. This wasn’t good. Somehow, before the pick was announced, Kaitlyn’s intuition had revealed that her bold plan had blown up right in her face.

The Mercs had just picked Beau Jaaxon, the stud defensive back from VCU. What the Mercs had also done was open the firing salvo of what Kaitlyn privately promised would be one of the longest and most bitter rivalries the league had ever seen. She had been more than willing to work with the bucket heads to conduct a trade in the opening round that worked for both sides. There were unsaid rules to the business world. Apparently, those rules never made it into the business world of professional sports. There was no honor here in the great hall of Teneniel Chume. Forget about the threat of the Ssi-Ruuk to the Mandalorians and the Republic. What those fools should have been worrying about was the threat of Kaitlyn Vehn in this room. If only she could let the air out slowly and watch Vhett suffocate. That might have lifted her anger ever so slightly.

“Kaitlyn?” Tover asked taking the ambitious owner from her dark thoughts. The war room of the Smugglers had gone quiet. Deathly quiet.

“Nevermind Jaaxon. We go for our next highest priority. Get on the phone with Zen Keisel, tell him he’s coming to Nar Shaddaa,” Kaitlyn barked.

The Smugglers war room snapped back into action as if nothing had happened. Everyone knew that Kaitlyn wasn’t going to cogitate on her massive blunder. Maybe Jaaxon had been a fool’s dream. Soon, Keisel was theirs for the taking. The Smugglers fan base went crazy, happy to have another defensive star added to what was looking to be a solid unit for the season.

The rest of the draft seemed a blur to Kaitlyn as the team filled needs for depth. They snatched up Shady Leroux, a promising young offensive player from Salis D’aar at the end of the second and rounded out their draft selections with Collie Austen, a midfielder that could fill in on the back end of the field if necessary.

One by one, Dvorak, Chambers, and Huntington left the Smugglers war room. They each shook hands with Kaitlyn on the completion of another draft and left her to her thoughts. All Kaitlyn could do was stare down at the Mercs empty table in the hall and cogitate on how many ways she could get back at them. Business was war. There was no other way about that. She just needed to view this particular transaction as a minor setback in her overall scheme.

“It happens to everyone, Kaitlyn,” Tover gently reminded his boss.

“Not to me,” Kaitlyn replied.

“Especially to you,” Tover said.

“We had Jaaxon and we lost him. I like who we picked but I would’ve wanted the local talent,” Kaitlyn said.

“I know. But we’ve got great coaches here and believe me, our defense is only going to get better. Can’t be any worse than last season,” Tover said with a bit of a chuckle.

“I should’ve been more guarded. I never allow myself to be that vulnerable,” Kaitlyn cursed.

“We all make mistakes. Besides, you put together a winning team this year and nobody will remember this, not one of us,” Tover said.

“You going to help me do that, Tover?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tover said as he turned to leave.

Kaitlyn looked at the Hall of Fame coach and smiled. “Thanks, Micjaa.”

“Anytime, boss.”

Tag: Bardan_Jusik

 

Draft Grades:

NOTE: These notes are not meant to be personal in any way. I'm just ranking them how I see them, and nothing more.


Bakura Miners: D. Um . . . what did we just witness? The Miners decided to be unconventional? If you said “yes”, you would be right . . . but at some point being unconventional doesn’t exactly mean being smart. Quinn Cundertol passed on more well-known athletes not once, but twice, in the third round, when better players were still left on the board in my opinion. Also, shouting your draft plans around the hall and being the biggest crybaby in the galaxy just because someone you wanted was picked before your pick doesn’t exactly help your ranking.

Coruscant Senators: B. Didn’t do anything flashy during the Draft, but that’s all right, because they addressed some needs as well as stocked up on athletes. Not overly active, but they didn’t need to be.

Euceron Storm: C. The League runner-ups and Commissioner’s Trophy winners didn’t exactly make a splash in the Draft, instead waiting to take their first pick of the Draft until the Third round with a series of trades. We shall see how these picks turn out a few years down the road, but they do nothing to help out the big club at the moment. Likely that was the idea, and at the moment no one is in position to challenge the Storm in their resurgence period on their Draft plans.

Mando’ade Mercs: A-. Not bad, considering the Mercs were apparently planning on being quiet for this Draft. Not only did they swing a number of trades, but they profited immensely from them while giving up little to nothing in return. At the moment, their trade with Nar Shaddaa looks like a speederway robbery because it was so good, and the Bakura trade showed that this franchise has guts. Getting a solid pair of rookie corners will lock down that spot for years to come, and also getting the Helmsman winner in the second round? How can you not like this Draft? The only negative is the lack of picks to work with next year.

Nar Shaddaa Smugglers: D+. If the Smugglers were looking to make a splash in this Draft, they failed to do so. Trading away your best asset at the sixth overall selection, and then not getting your prized recruit anyways, isn’t exactly smart, and although the players involved weren’t exactly great, the Mando’ade trade looks like a lost opportunity in hindsight because of how little the Smugglers got in return. Picking up a Helmsman winner is nice, yes, but the Smugglers don’t exactly need a forward right now. They need defense, and I don’t think they addressed that enough, frankly. Not a good start to Kaitlyn Vehn’s sophomore season as GM of the team.

Ralltiir Starkillers: C. Not a bad draft, but Ralltiir already has some good young defenders. I scratched my head at the Drif pick at number 7, because the Starkillers have Dev Poletin at Full right now. Perhaps this is a depth Draft for them, but on the overall I didn’t see much from this team that tells me that they will improve with these picks. Perhaps this team could regress a little because of these picks, when offense was sometimes at a premium down the stretch and cost them games.

Rydonni Prime Monarchs: C-. Ileo was a good, solid pick at the top overall selection. But their other pick . . . not so much. The Monarchs were horrible on defense last season, but to take another goalie when you already have two? The Monarchs should have used the pick on someone else to plug a hole. Grade was improved because that pick made Cundertol squirm, and we like seeing that. In your face, Quinn!

Ylesia Lightning: B+. Solid draft by the Lightning. They got the best-ranked defender on the board, which they needed, plus a good middie who should make things happen next season. Also got a steal in the third round with Tobin, so there isn’t anything to really dislike about this Draft for the Lightning.

TAG: Trieste, jcgoble3, Bardan_Jusik, Vehn, Runjedirun, CPL_Macja, Rebecca_Daniels

 

I know it's a double post, but I have to get my offseason started right.

IC: Gark S’rily
Senators Team HQ

Gark sat at the desk in his office, looking through various items on his datapad. The Elite League Draft was over, so now it was on to the rest of the offseason and training camp. It was a tough life being a GM, and it wasn’t for the faint of heart. He had brought in Adanna Inviere as his assistant, yes, but she was currently learning the ins and outs of things, and was of no help just yet on that front.

Then he heard a knock on the door. “Come in,” he said, putting the datapad aside. In came Palla Tyroti-Mundle, the defensive coordinator, with her flame-red hair easy to distinguish. “Ah, Palla,” Gark said. “What can I do for you today?”

“Just thought you should know that I’ve gotten a head coaching job offer, and I’m going to take it,” Palla finally said.

“You mean you won’t be returning as coordinator this season?” Gark asked. Why did this seem like familiar territory?

“Pretty much,” Palla replied. “I’ve always wanted to be a head coach in a high-level league . . . at least higher than where I was a few years ago . . . and I figured this would be my best chance.”

“You realize that this puts me in a tight spot, right?” Gark asked.

“I know, but I may not get another opportunity like this.”

“Fine, then,” Gark said after pausing.

“Bye, then. Oh, and thanks for everything. Thanks for having me on all these years. It means a lot.” Palla said before walking out of the office. Gark just groaned and rubbed his face a little bit with his hand. He hadn’t needed that. Who would fill in as the defensive coordinator this season? He thought of quite a few candidates. Polix? No, he had struggled the last few seasons with Thyferra. Saris Precore? The former Miner and Storm DC hadn’t coached in a long time after her ‘Interception Defense’ got burned one too many times. What about college coaches? After a few minutes of deliberating, he knew exactly what to do. This one person might just fit the bill. He hadn’t thought about them in a long time . . . a long time. Perhaps this move would save his bacon.

He immediately called in a press conference with the secretaries at the front desk for the next day at 0900 sharp. He wanted to get it done quickly so that this person could get to work immediately. They had experience at coaching defenses, so at least they weren’t completely green in this line of work.

Then a message came to his datapad. He opened it up to find out that his wife was trying to ask him a question. She had the week off from work, so she was trying to take full advantage of it. Want to catch a movie? she asked.

Can’t. Too busy with team stuff. Gark sent in a curt reply. Being rude wasn’t exactly the point, but this couldn’t wait.

---

The next morning, Gark awoke early and got on the road before 0700. His wife didn’t even stir, but Gark really didn’t care. His mind was too wrapped up in the team business he was about to announce at the conference. For some reason, all he could think about was Limmie. Limmie this, Limmie that. On top of that was work from Andromeda, things he had to go over for the company so that new shipments could be brought in and concept sketches could be debated. He hadn’t heard of anything on the superhero front for a few days, so that was nice, but he knew that if anything big came up, he would have to drop everything and see to that. Me’lin wouldn’t like it, but it was the way of life for Gark now. He was a man in four worlds, and right now the world with her was the last one in his mind.

Gark pulled into the lot at the Team HQ building, running inside so that he could gather his things. He then sat down at his desk once more and poured over additional footage. He had to get every last second out of it that he could. Limmie was consuming his mind. He could hear the roar of the crowd in the back of his mind as they saw their new rookies in action.

Around the time of the press conference, an aide came by to remind Gark to show up. Putting down his datapad, which had another message from his wife asking him where he was that he ignored, he got up and made his way to the press room.

“I want to thank all of you for coming here today,” Gark said to the media members in the room. “It has come to my attention that Palla Tyroti-Mundle, our longtime DC, has decided to take a head coaching job in the ABC, and will not be returning this season for our team.” This caused the media members to make notes for publications. Who would DC the team now?”

“In order to replace her, I spent quite a bit of time looking for new candidates,” Gark said. “It’s hard to find someone who can step in for Palla and do as good a job as she has in the past. I had to remove many names from the search because I figured that they just wouldn’t fit the bill. However, I finally came up with a candidate who has experience as a defensive coordinator in professional Limmie, and someone I know who can take over the job. Your Defensive Coordinator for the Coruscant Senators in 275 is . . .

Spoiler

Me. This conference is now adjourned.”


This sent off a firestorm in the room, one that Gark knew would come after he had come to this decision the previous day. Here he was, Gark S’rily, offering to jump back into the coaching ranks after taking two years off. Sure enough, he had experience as a defensive coordinator, and he knew his roster the best out of any possible candidates for the job. His yearning to return to the sidelines had now been answered, and Gark knew that he would be in for the fight of his life once again in returning to the sidelines. But such was the life of a coach, and he desperately wanted to feel the exhilaration of that experience again.

TAG: No One

OOC: Yes, I used the spoiler tag. Deal with it.

 

IC: Fenton

The excitement of the upcoming season was still dampened by the decisions made by the Starkillers during the draft. The Starkillers had not drafted an offensive player. To make matters worse Loren Jul was holding out. She would not sign a contract extension for the funds being offered by the team. This could be her last year and no one had been picked up to be ready to replace her next year if necessary. Not that anyone could replace Jul. She had been a part of the Starkillers for over a decade. She would be missed, not only for her spectacular play, but as a figure head for the organization.

What the Starkillers needed with another full back was unknown to analysts and fans alike. The second round pick of Harc was the only move that made any sense for the Starkillers. Young blood could be an improvement in the aging line up of half backs. Just as soon as Fenton and all other fans had started to think positively about their team the Starkillers traded their third round pick to the Mercs. In return they received a player that had just missed an entire season to due an off field injury. Starkiller faithful were having a hard time understanding what was going on in the front office.

Fenton was as disappointed with the Starkillers draft decisions as everyone else. He had sulked, moped and fumed for weeks. But it was time to move on. The Starkillers were holding an open practice today and Fenton was going to be there. He’d be working, but he was sure he’d at least get a peak at the activity on field. See how last year’s draft pick Leann Lightcin was progressing for himself. It was rumored she was going to start this season. Maybe she was the spark the offense was looking for.

Open practice was held way out in suburbia. Public transport didn’t go out that far and Fenton had to ask for a ride from his mother’s boyfriend. He was more than happy to give Fenton a lift and talked non stop on the way to the field. Mostly he went on about how happy he was to see Fenton getting out of the house. Fenton kept quiet. He was happy his mother was seeing someone, but he really wished she could have met someone, anyone else.

When Fenton arrived at the field he made his way to the make shift nacho stand. His supervisor was just beginning to set up. Fenton had worked several events with the kid and was curious as to why someone cared so much about a dead end low life job. Fenton figured the poor kid must really be in need of the credits. One by one his co-workers arrived and just as they were beginning to serve customers the Starkillers began to take the field.

The nacho stand couldn’t have been in a better spot. Fenton would have been able to see every drill the team ran if he hadn’t been serving customers. Whenever he got the chance he looked up and when he did he was always impressed. Limmie was an amazing game he decided. To see the pro’s play, even if it was just practice, was giving him chills. By the end of the practice session all of Fenton’s doubts about the upcoming season were forgotten.

Once practice wrapped up the interviews began. HSN had several reporters on site. One HSN reporter was interviewing Galaxy Defender just meters from his stand. With any luck he’d be able to see himself on holovision this evening.

That evening Fenton turned on HSN with great anticipation. He sat patiently watching as training camps from around the ELL were visited. Finally it was Ralltiir’s turn. Sure enough when they cut to the interview with Galaxy Defender, Fenton could see the nacho stand and himself. He was on HSN. He was elated. The reporter asked Galaxy Defender what he thought of the draft choices made by the Starkillers and how they would affect the team this season. “I’m going to be honest. We didn’t fair so well in the draft this year. But it could have been worse. We could have drafted that fat guy over there serving the nachos.” Galaxy Defender pointed right at Fenton. The reporter laughed. Fenton was mortified.

Tag: None

 

IC: Tim Dodd - Dodd Apartment, Calna Muun, Agamar.

Tim turned off the holo-screen and sat back to think over what he had just witnessed. So that was a 'Draft' was it? Interesting; and probably fortunate that his first participation, next year, would only be to fortify the Garqi Gunners with some new blood. He'd be leaning heavily on Asyr and Dorf for a ranked list of candidates because, in truth, none of the draftees had impressed him all that much!

Quinn Cundertol had looked like a man under real pressure, though, almost throwing a tantrum because someone had got in first on a player he liked the look of. It smacked of a failure to properly prioritise 'must haves' from 'like to haves'. Well, avoiding that sort of thing was the advantage of direct recruitment! Tim had wanted to scream at him "Get yourself a Thakwaash or two, fool; Thakwaa isn't that far away from Bakura!". As far as Galactic distances went, it was practically in their back yard!

Another thought; what would happen with the Miners if the war did come back to bite Bakura? Basing themselves on Naboo was a possibility, but Queen Eleanor (a Noble House Trieste in all but name) had just been defeated in Naboo's Monarchical election, and who knew what position her successor would take regarding a planet that was at war? Yet another thing to discuss with the Supreme Chancellor! Fortunately, if the worst came to the worst, Agamar now had a spare Stadium available and was much more centrally located!

A further thought, and the glimmerings of an idea! Where the Elite League led the Premier League (and lesser Leagues) were likely to follow; so what if the Host Worlds of the Elite League Teams came to an understanding that an unprovoked attack on one Elite League World was cause for the entire League to come together in support of the victimised member - each world contributing according to its capabilities and philosophy? Agamar was a comparative minnow; all he could do as Team Owner was to try to influence the Agamarian Council (the planetary Government) or ASF; but that was not the case for other Elite League Owners - some of them were 'the Government'! All of them made reasonable revenues from Limmie (it wasn't just the ticket sales) and wars were simply bad for business. How could a team play matches if it was blockaded onto its homeworld, for example?

The Leaving/Joining celebrations had now taken place (slightly delayed due to everything else that had been going on) and the Packers were now back in training after two days of complete stand-down for recovery! It had indeed been a real blast!

Signing Morto Goot had proved to be an unexpected bonus. Firstly he did know something of Limmie, and had helped coach his brother when they were younger; and secondly he was a fully-qualified astronavigator! Both of them had a fairly unique way of playing Limmie, too, they did not 'tackle' opposing players so much as 'pounce' on them; which should disconcert opposing teams no end! In practice sessions even Allanabuck and Roon had been sent sprawling more than once!


TAG: Vehn (for the mention of Eleanor), Trieste (for interest and Cundertol), otherwise No One.

 

​

IC: Aay'han Vhett
Meshla Vhetin, Manda'yaim.

Vhett sat down at the head of the long conference table, to her right was coach Vizsla while other seats were taken in a haphazard pecking order of front office staff and other coaches. They all knew their place, and there was little jockeying for position. This was to be an orderly meeting, one that could greatly affect the future of the Mercs franchise, or at the very least the route that the upcoming season would take. Vhett wasted no time.

"Let us begin, training camp has concluded and we have gotten through without major incident or injury correct?"

There were nods around the table as Coach Vizsla spoke up, Vhett valued the man for his abilities as a coach, but she never could get used to that clipped Coruscanti accent he still affected.

"There were the normal sprains and strains that come with running a tough camp. Ram'ser as you know missed the most time with an elbow injury, but he should be good to go by the beginning of the season."

"And his status for the pre-season game against the Patriots?"

There were looks around the table between the coaching and medical staff. "He will be ready, but we will limit his playing time." Vhett nodded her approval. "Very well, and the status of the remainder of your defense?"

Vizsla responded quickly. "Nothing there to report, the starting lineup is pretty straightforward. Same as last season except at Cornerback. K'Karlson is fitting in nicely at the right CB spot and Patton is coming along nicely at left CB." There was murmured agreement from the defensive coaches before Vizsla added. "That kid has some real leadership potential. Jaaxon will serve as Killer's backup pretty much as we thought." He left things at that, they all knew he had starter potential down the line, but this meeting was about the upcoming season, not future plans.

"Goaltender?"

There were more guarded looks from the coaches now before Vizsla spoke, a bit more cautiiously this time. "There is still some debate on that. As you know I like to play my midfielders a bit farther forward, to assist the offense. This can lead the defense to be...over extended. Katan's aggressive play can help blow up an offense, but at times it also leaves us wide open back there."

"Go on."

"Thorn...the Ice man. He keeps his emotions in check, and is a student of the game. He studies tendencies and makes fantastic in game adjustments, at least in our scrimmages." Vizsla took a deep breath. "We want to see how he does in the so called friendly, against an unfamiliar team. He is still having trouble with the sheer athleticism at this level, but if he does well against the Patriots, he may earn the starting job."

Vhett nodded her assent. She had taken two goaltenders with first round picks since the creation of the ELL draft. She needed at least one of them to turn into an elite talent. She moved on.

"Midfield?"

There was some light laughter from the coaches as Vizsla began. "Good news and bad news for our middies.Mor'kesh is cemented in as our number one there. In fact, I have gone ahead and named him our new team captain. He is still young, but he can handle his own against any other midfielder in the league." Vhett motioned for him to continue as he paused slightly. "We have a lot of good talent to fill out the rest of our team at midfield. Four players vying for the remaining three spots. Darkrider will probably end up as the other starter. I think both Vau and Gozer have more talent, but Darkrider is more experienced. He has actually picked up on our system pretty quickly. Vau has more talent, and a better knowledge of the system, but he just isn't showing it on the field. I think we are going to regulate him to being a back up."

He stopped again as he brought a glass of water to his lips. "The last reserve spot is between Gozer and Horonel. Horonel knows how to play, and despite his age he probably has a leg up on the Destructor. Let the Devaronian learn a year or two with Concordia and he should be ready for us."

"So...All Star caliber with Mor'kesh and then a severe drop off, but with good depth. Is that correct?" Vizsla replied quickly. "The Patriots game will allow for us to shake things out and apply final roster spots there, but yes."

Vhett mulled this over. "Very well. Now we come to the offense."

Vizsla sighed audibly. The offense was still raw, and everyone knew it. "Fortune is back from injury and looking as good as ever. He is working with the young corner forwards. The new guys there, Mereel and...." Vizsla paused as he struggled to remember the other call up from Concordia's name "...Arock are both adapting well. I would say they have each earned a starting spot now, though they are both very young to be holding down those spots. Especially Arock."

There were further nods from around the table. Mereel had been a standout last season, and the biggest reason why the Crusaders had won their second title in three years. Arock though had seemingly come out of no where. Never a highly touted prospect, the Mandalorian had shown an enthusiasm not easily matched. His play in training camp had also vaulted him ahead of other players vying for the Left Corner Forward spot. "We will wait to see how he responds to an actual ELL team to make a decision on him. But Mereel will start on the right side."

Vhett absorbed that information quietly. With the Nulls off to war the starting offense was is disarray. Players had been promoted from the Mercs far ahead of their time, and some would be starters. Other players, reserves for the Mercs last season, would also be thrust into a starting role. Vizsla's next statements confirmed all that to her.

"We've got Adams slotted for a starters job at half forward, left side. Opposite her will be Soker, another rookie called up from Concordia. She beat out Gorla pretty handily there. Daryc of course will anchor us in the middle."

Vhett added things up quickly. "So, out of the six forward spots, we will have three rookies and former backup?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes ma'am, that's the situation."

Vhett scowled. Following two very good offensive seasons under Vizsla, last season had been a disaster there. Now it looked as if things were just going to get worse. "Manda help us," she muttered under her breath. "Very well. Do what you can do with what we have." She changed topics now. "Fortunately things seem to be going very well at the front. I have received word from the Mand'alor that the war is all but won." Everyone around her nodded and a few let go with jubilant a "Oya!", but the success of the Mandalorian war effort had come as no surprise to them. The Mandalorian march into Imperium space had been covered in depth by news agencies around the galaxy. Added to that was the fact that all of the men and women in this room had vode at the front. They all knew just how well the war was going.

First the enteched battle droids had been swept away. A large supply of un-powered droids had been found on many "forward" worlds near Bakuran space. Droids that only needed enteched souls in order to create a massive force with which the Mandalorians, nor possibly the Republic, could not have possibly contended. Given the proximity of these to Bakuran space, one didn't have to think too long or hard on where the Ssi-Ruuk were looking in order to power them. This only made the Bakurans fight even harder.

With the Droids swept away and the Bakurans securing Coalition supply lines (as well as leading the assaults on several worlds) the Mandalorian effort had been concentrated on hunting down and eliminating the Ssi-Ruuk leadership. Fighting without their droids now, the Lizards fought hard for every meter of space, for every clump of blood soaked dirt. Fighting on their own turf they abandoned their previous cautiousness and displayed a ferocity not yet seen before in this war. But while their hides may have been somewhat blaster resistant, they were of little help against bombs, and flames and blades. Soon enough their forces too had largely crumpled before the Mandalorian war machine.

Now efforts were primarily being concentrated on occupation and the hunting down of insurgent forces which continued to harass the men and women of the Mandalorian/Bakuran Coalition. Still some troops were already on their way back to Mandalorian space. A good thing too, else the Mercs might end up playing in an empty Meshla Vhetin. Vhett continued on, telling the assembled staff something they didn't yet know. "In fact, I have received word that soon we may be hosting a very special guest."

TAG: Trieste for mention of Bakruan forces. No one for everything else.

 

GM Post

Sunday, October 13 Friendlies
Bakura Miners at Nar Shaddaa Smugglers (first game at the new Six Boroughs)
Kuat Triforce at Ralltiir Starkillers
Chandrila Patriots at Mando'ade Mercs
Rydonni Prime Monarchs at Balmorra Blasters
Agamar Packers at Naboo Ducks

TAG: Tim Battershell

 

IC: Falene Trieste
The Pond at Theed, Theed, Naboo

Falene had missed Niskat Deenever a lot. She was her best friend and that meant something. Not only was it just good to have someone she could rely on all the time around, but it also made Falene happier.

And right now nothing made Falene happier than Niskat absolutely destroying the Duck defense.

Deenever had seen these Ducks in the preseason last year and had similarly good results. After what could only be described as a mediocre year on Cloud City, there were some legitimate concerns as to whether Niskat was as good as her billing or if she truly had been the second worst forward in the 274 Draft. Maybe Deenever played with a chip on her shoulder because of those rankings, that she was going to spend her entire career trying to prove that she was better than HSN Scouting had given her credit for. Maybe not. All Falene knew was that Deenever was pushing around whoever the Ducks threw at her.

It was a good thing too, because Falene was getting torn up in the backfield. With a reserve goalkeeper in the wake of Jorpik's departure and a reserve half back, the Ducks were having a lot of fun in the Miners zone. Falene was hauling down her opponents every time they got close to her, but she was only one being of six. The Miners defense had not gotten any better, despite the arrival a few days ago of their new assistant coach, who would be taking over defensive duties from Valerii.

The Khil hadn't said much when he had arrived just before they departed for Naboo. "Apologies for being late, but I had to honor my commitment to the Pikemen."

"Anything you want to go over before we go to Naboo? Any tips, tricks?" Nelly Wizmark, now the de facto leader of the Miners defense, asked.

"No. I'll just be watching," was all Cuth Hulu had said.

And so he stood on the sideline and watched. His facial tentacles moved from time to time when he would be next to Valerii and she'd say something in return, so apparently he was observing. Falene desperately wondered what it was that he was seeing in the game. She wouldn't have minded if he'd shared any of it when Valerii called timeouts, but he didn't. This new assistant coach was an odd one.

Gaeriel was frequently criticized for taking her foot off the pedal in games where the outcome didn't affect the playoff chances of the Miners. She did this when playoff seeding was sown up (or at least believed to be, as had happened in 271 when the reality had been different) or in friendlies. This earned her a lot of ire from the fans who wanted to see the Miners firing on full thrusters every single game, even in friendlies. Today they were not disappointed. With the Bloom Bowl on the line Valerii played her starters all 60 minutes. It was taking all of her starters to keep pace with the Ducks. Though Naboo had been among the worst teams in the Premier League last season, they frequently raised their game for the old rivalry match with the Miners. It was funny how a trophy seemed to motivate a team.

That street went two ways because the Miners weren't giving up without a fight, especially not Deenever. Falene had to hand it to Niskat--she got along splendidly with the Hapan Hotness. The three of them were an overwhelming force up front and their aggressive play was opening space for Rodders by forcing the Duck defense to respect the scoring threat that the half forwards represented.

When the buzzer sounded, the Miners had hung on for a two score victory and a final score of 27-23. The Miners retained the Bloom Bowl and Falene had the pleasure of lifting it jointly with Niskat when their turn came.

"Just like old times, am I right?" Niskat asked with a grin for the cameras.

"Absolutely. You better stick around for a bunch more moments like this," Falene said.

"I'm thinking of a big shiny silver thing that I'd like to lift over my head," Niskat, "You interested?"

"You bet," Falene said. They passed the Bloom Bowl to the Hapans.

"So when are you going to tell me about the plan for Nar Shaddaa?" Niskat whispered to Falene.

"Who said there's a plan?"

"There's a plan," Niskat said confidently, "You're a terrible liar."

"I am not," Falene said indignantly.

"You are too. I didn't believe you when you said you weren't a liar, so clearly you're a liar," Deenever said.

"Wait...how many negatives did you just use there?" Falene asked with confusion.

"That's irrelevant," Niskat said with a wave of her hand, "Seriously, what's the plan?"

Falene sighed. "Just stick close to me. Trust me."

"No, tell me the plan!" Niskat said.

"What plan?" Nelly Wizmark asked.

"The same plan we have every night, Nelly," Falene said as she took Niskat by the arm and turned to head off to the locker room, "Try to take over the galaxy!" Falene and Niskat snickered at that all the way off the field together.

"Sophomores," Nelly said with a shake of her head.

TAG: Vehn because I'm coming for you. Friendly? Hardly. This is more like an Ugly.

 

IC: Tim Dodd - Packers' Shuttle, en-route to Theed, Naboo.

They'd been lucky to arrange this friendly, warm-up, match on such short notice; but arranged it had been, with the Ticket Revenue (the Packers' portion of it anyway) to be added to the funding for the ongoing clean-up and reconstruction efforts in a badly flood-hit area.

Despite the Naboo Ducks' Premier League status (and last Season's disappointingly poor performance), Tim had instructed that expressions involving aquatic avians (and there were many!) were not to be used, even in the Locker Room, even as jests of good-natured intent! The Ducks must keep something in the tank for the big occasions, he thought: even though they'd lost this year's Bloom Bowl rivalry match to the Miners it had been by a narrow margin, and they'd done exactly the same thing the previous year!

Even with the hurried arrangements, the team weren't going into this game completely blind. Not with Asyr having Dorf, Everett and TK available to help with the team briefings and game planning. She intended to start as normal (with 'The Bombardment') for fifteen or twenty minutes then, leaving the Back Four in-place, to bring on most of the reserves for pitch time. TK would take the Centre-Half-Back slot, partnered by Cachbarukh and his clanmate Plakhisakh and Everett (partnered first by Kahr'maim, then by his clanmate Sakmirakh) would handle the Midfield.

Up-front, Asyr intended to rest Jiva and Stont and move Georg back to Centre-Half-Forward; leaving the Front Three positions in the hands of Morto (Left Corner), Miles (Full) and Mezgraf (Right Corner). Georg would be partnered by Fynn Hume and 'Scooter' Laine. Later on, depending on the scoreline, the Ducks might get the 'Charging Bantha' treatment - allowing Roon, Tesar and Shaka to get into the action too. Tim could only guess at the Ducks' reaction to the Goot brothers' favourite way of warming up, which mainly consisted of speed-stalking and trying to pounce on each others' tails, or at the size and bulk of the larger players! And the Ducks were signed-up to visit Memorial Oval next year for a return match!

Notwithstanding HNN's reports that the Ssi-Ruuk were nearing defeat, Komad'avao was still concerned. One of her original scenarios had Bakura being struck-at precisely as a last-ditch chance-cube roll; another had been a feigned collapse to suck the combined Mando/Bakuran forces in deep and then to capture Bakura to cut off and surround them. Mandalorians, she pointed out, were far more used to surface-based combat than they were to manoeuvre-based space warfare. Yes, there had been a lot of Ssi-Ruuk Droid Fighters destroyed or captured but not many reports of engagement with heavier Ssi-Ruuk ships; and the history books said that they had used Cruiser-sized or larger vessels in their previous conquest attempts. The histories also recorded that the Droid Fighters of two centuries ago had been very hard kills indeed due to their shielding technology (the very reason why Palpatine had been prepared to sacrifice Bakura in the first place) yet these modern-day variants were reportedly going down easily!

Komad'avao had pitched such a convincing case (she was a Professor of History, after all) that 'Task Force Amity' was still working up and also on one-hour's notice to break-orbit and head for Bakura at maximum sustainable speed.

It was also the urgent reason for arranging the match - Tim has been tasked with casting an eye over Naboo to confirm it was suitable as a reception/transhipment point for evacuees (with the only real hope for a Ssi-Ruuk occupation and defence of Bakura being the planet's population, denial of that asset made strategic sense). Both he, the Council and ASF also hoped to establish friendly relations with the peoples of Naboo - and the Monarch (whoever he or she happened to be at the time) owned the team!


TAG: Trieste, Vehn, Bardan_Jusik (for whatever parts concern them!) othewise No One.

 

And now for something different.

GM Approved!

Name: Jacen Hunter
Species: Human
DOB: 266 ABY
Gender: Male
Position: Fan
Homeworld: Corellia, now relocated to Mandalore.



The only child of a doting mother and a workaholic father, young Jacen is not much of an athlete. His mother felt he was "too precious" for sports and though his father's only sanctuary from his work was watching the Rebels on the Holo, he was generally too busy to even teach Jacen to catch and throw a bolo-ball, much less how to play the game. Instead Jacen put his efforts into his schoolwork and was seen as a bright and gifted child by the teachers at his public school in Coronet City. He was popular among his friends and classmates, many of whom were drawn by his sense of humor and friendly demeanor. He never dreamed how different his life would soon be.

In 275 his father, an engine specialist for CEC, was hired away by one of their competitors, MandalMotors. The Mandalorians were at war, and MandalMotors was expanding their production line, resulting in them poaching some of the best and brightest from other shipbuilding companies. It was a significant increase in pay for the family, though it would require them to relocate to Mandalore. Still it was an opportunity his father couldn't pass up professionally.

So the family packed up and moved to Keldabe, where Jacen now struggles to fit in with the Mandalorian lifestyle that is so alien and violent to him. He soon finds refuge by joining with his father's love for the beautiful game, though with one stark and distressing difference. In an effort to fit in here, Jacen has become a Mercs fan...

 

Brief GM Note

I've discovered that some descriptions of events in the Mandalorian-Bakuran-Ssi-ruuk war (which really needs a shorter title) were incorrect. Though these events were mentioned in a way that was one character speculating about what could possibly happen, those speculations were based on erroneous "reports" of war activity that arose out of some ambiguity and incorrect assumptions. Unfortunately, the window of time for editing that post has come and gone so the post cannot be modified. As a result, I'm using my omnipotence as your Benevolent...ish GM to say that recent reports concerning Capital ship engagements or lack thereof and the ease of destruction of modern day Ssi-Ruuk droid fighters should be disregarded as inaccurate. Hey, there's lots of rumors floating around on the Holonet you know.

As a general reminder, note that if a post is silent on a point, that may not mean something did or did not happen. As always, I encourage active collaboration between players on events that include their characters or world. Please clear things that could affect other player's storylines with that player through PM in advance to receive approval. A discussion in OOB is also appropriate if you prefer. I know waiting for approval can slow down your posting, but it is necessary that you do receive explicit approval. You wouldn't want someone messing up your storyline, so please show the same courtesy to others. Remember that when it comes to influencing galactic events, please, please, please, please, please keep me in the loop. I try to accommodate everyone's storylines, but Empress for Life Kerry Trieste your Benevolent...ish GM does not like it when people go off and cause trouble in her his peaceful galaxy without asking for permission. Besides, the limmie gods are vengeful about these things.


"The gods have been angered by all the celebrating!"

...okay Michael. So before I go get myself some Dole Whip, just a final reminder to be a good neighbor and check in when talking about other people's storylines.

TAG: Bardan_Jusik CPL_Macja jcgoble3 Jedi Gunny Rebecca_Daniels Runjedirun Tim Battershell Vehn

In closing: Pretendy Fun Time Games.

 

GM Post

--Transaction Wire--

Mando'ade Mercs

• Vash Passik (Kaleesh, Male, Corner Forward, Dac State University) signed to an entry level contract

Rydonni Prime Monarchs

• Buggie Resh (Human [Bakuran], Male, Center Half Forward, College of Deredith & Millicent) signed to an entry level contract
• Fahpe Sojuria (Human [Bakuran], Male, Left Half Forward, University of Bakura, Gesco City)
• Eli Rooth (Human, Male, Right Corner Forward, Cinnagar Imperial College)
• Nabreen Nayezsh (Human, Male, Midfielder, Theed Community College)

TAG: Bardan_Jusik CPL_Macja

 

GM Post

--Transaction Wire--
Coruscant Senators

• Mala Bonero (Selonian, Female, Full Forward, Tralus University)
• Jennacca (Wookiee, Female, Half Forward, University of Kashyyyk)

Rydonni Prime Monarchs

• Rean Facin (Human, Male, Full Back, formerly Nar Shaddaa Smugglers) signed from free agency
• Niles Razyr (Human, Male, Right Corner Back, formerly Nar Shaddaa Smugglers) signed from free agency
• Pasla Tesh (Hrakian, Male, Corner Back, formerly Coruscant Senators) signed from free agency

TAG: CPL_Macja Jedi Gunny

 

Going through the usual blitz of offseason posts.

IC: Gark S’rily
Home, soon after the Draft and his addition as DC of the Senators

Gark stared out the window into the darkness outside. It was pouring rain here on Coruscant, with the occasional lightning flash that would streak across the sky to illuminate the ground below in amongst the drops of rain that thundered down from the sky. Galin was scared of the thunder as it rolled by; the young boy curled himself up in a ball on the sofa every time the rolling sound could be heard, trying desperately to get away to a warm safe place where he could hide and wish that the thunder and the rain would quietly pass him by. Gark had seen what Galin had done at least once while he stood vigilant watch at the window, and knew that he had been afraid of the thunder like that when he was young. Finally Me’lin had to come over and comfort Galin, holding him close so that he could relax a little bit. He had always felt safe around his mother, so her presence seemed to make a difference.

“This is going to be a long night,” Gark commented. Me’lin just nodded.

“You think the weather is going to keep up like this?” she asked. “I’m worried about what we might find tomorrow. The weatherman stated that we haven’t seen this much rain, or what is projected to fall tonight and into tomorrow, in at least 50 years.”

“And I have a gnawing feeling that something bad is going to happen,” Gark mused as he continued to stare out into the abyss.

“You sure?”

“Very,” Gark said in a simple tone. “And it concerns me, Lin. It really does. Something doesn’t feel right, but . . . I don’t know what it could be. Maybe I’m just on the edge from that playoff loss. Maybe I’m not going to be cut out for coaching again on top of everything. So I just stand here and wonder what the future holds for me.”

“Well, the first step to that is to get some sleep,” Me’lin said. “I think it would behoove us to let Galin sleep with us tonight, though. It’ll be the only way to make him feel safe.”

Gark nodded. She had a good point. His parents had done the same for him when the thunder had scared him, so when his son was frightened, it would be a good way to calm the boy down and help him fall asleep. When it came time to get into bed, though, Gark couldn’t sleep. All he could do was stare at the ceiling in the darkness, listening to the thunder and the constant cadence of the raindrops nailing the house at high velocity. It was like a drumline, only one that made him worry. He had heard the horror stories about flooding on Thyferra in 271 that had cost so many lives . . . and he had been through so much since then that he had been hardened by these kinds of events, those kinds of thoughts. What it told him was grim . . . although he didn’t know what might go wrong, he had a sinking feeling that something would go awry. These worries didn’t help much as he finally drifted off into sleep, but it wasn’t a very restful sleep. Instead, he was still somewhat stressed although his body decided it was a good time to drift off.

---

The comlink rang on the bedside table, and Gark slowly moved his hand to try and grab it. With his bleary eyes, he tried to look at the chrono . . . but it was off. He moved his head to try and figure out what was going on, but only darkness greeted him. He turned on the comlink and opened up the communicator channel.

“Hey boss, we’ve got a bit of a situation down here,” Dyklar, the long-time head groundskeeper at Andromeda Stadium, said.

“What are you talking about?” Gark asked. What had gone wrong?

“Well, I think it’s best if you come down here. We’re not sure what’s going on . . .”

“What do you mean you’re not sure?” Gark asked hurriedly. His suspicion that something would happen had been right after all . . . but what was going wrong?

“Just get down here, boss. We’ve called in the emergency agencies, but they’re getting bogged down, what with the rain and the number of other emergency calls.”

“Are the roads even passible?” Gark asked.

“Don’t know,” Dyklar replied. “But I have a feeling that this is just going to get worse. Get down here if you can.”

Gark got out of bed slowly as he cut off the connection. What was going on down at the stadium? His sudden motion and talking woke his wife, who turned over. Galin still hadn’t stirred, but it probably wouldn’t take much to wake him.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Something’s going on down at the stadium,” Gark replied. “I need to get down there ASAP.”

“Do you need me to go with you?” Me’lin asked.

“No, I need to go alone,” Gark said. “Besides, I’m the one who has to worry about it. I’ll be back soon,” he said, slipping on a rain jacket and shoes and heading out of the bedroom and towards the garage. He tried to open the garage door, but it wouldn’t work. They had lost power, and the issue was that he was still only half-awake. So he had to operate the door manually, which took quite a bit of effort. Damn did the door feel heavy; it felt like the thing weighed a ton, which it probably did. Finally, though, the door opened, albeit stubbornly, and Gark was able to get the speeder out into the driveway. After this, he had to close the door behind him, the rain battering his jacket as he worked feverishly to get out of here. When the work was done, he jumped back into the speeder and took off. His vehicle was met by the pouring rain as it pulled out of the driveway and onto the main thoroughfare.

When Gark reached the stadium, he was met visually with the sight of several fire engines hovering outside the stadium, their lights flashing. Dyklar’s speeder was also there to meet him, and when Gark stopped to ask what was going on, the Rodian jumped inside and slammed the door behind him as to keep the pouring rain out. He took his hood off, which was dripping wet from being outside even for just a few seconds.

“Fill me in,” Gark said over the sound of the raindrops hitting the windshield.

“My crews still aren’t sure what the exact cause is, but we have a theory.”

“A theory to what?”

“The stadium . . . it’s flooding . . .” Dyklar said.

“Flooding?” Gark asked, shocked. How was this possible?

“About an hour ago, there was a recorded lightning strike over the stadium,” Dyklar explained. “Our cameras show that one of the main jumbo screens was hit straight-on by the bolt, which fried its electronics and caused it to tumble down from its perch onto the field.”

“That can be replaced,” Gark said. “But how does that flood the place?”

“Before our video cameras died due to waterlogging, we were able to see the concourses flooded with dirty water,” Dyklar replied. “And the emergency water spigots . . . you know, the fire control system . . . were turned on full-blast. Each one of the valves in the hallways and concourses was turned on . . . the lightning bolt must have made such a direct hit on the screen that it not only destroyed it, but also fried the wires inside. If enough energy hit the wires at just the right angle, it would overload the system, causing a burnout in the power outlets where the screen was plugged in.”

“Which means?” Gark asked. But he didn’t want an answer. His heart was sinking down into his chest.

“It must have fried the entire control panel,” Dyklar said. “We have surge protectors on there to try and prevent blackouts when the power blips . . . but this must have overloaded even those. Nothing like that is made to withstand a direct lightning strike and resulting electrical overload. The outlet obviously fried, and then some of the surrounding metal caught fire. This turned on the emergency sprinklers, as is supposed to happen . . . but obviously the fire got to the control panel for that, and the cameras showed it sparking in flames. The sprinklers are turned on full-tilt, and there is no way to stop them except to get someone in there with a wrench to reach the emergency stop valve. And with the risk of electrocution rampant in the water on the concourse, it’s very dangerous to try and get to it. I’m not going to risk one of my boys to get the job done unless he is well-protected from electrocution. Given the amount of water present, though, I’m not sure what we can do. And the rain keeps pouring in, so we have multiple sources of water to contend with that just won’t let up anytime soon.”

“Why not send a droid?” Gark asked.

“The storage cabinet where we have the cleaning droids is locked, and with rising flood waters we haven’t been able to reach it in half an hour,” Dyklar said. “We called in the dive team from the fire department, who usually aren’t needed . . . but they’re delayed by flooding elsewhere and can’t come in to help for several more hours. Until then, we’re stuck watching as the place floods.

But Gark could no longer listen. All he could do was stare out into the darkness at the stadium, the home of his team, the pride of the planet, go up in smoke and of waterlogging. The whole place was flooding, and there was nothing they could do. He had been right; something had gone terribly wrong. So all he could do was hit his head on the front dash, cursing his rotten luck in this instance. There was nothing to do but wait until help could arrive, and then it would be too late.

---

When morning came, the water was finally shut off by a daring attempt by some droids to turn off the emergency valves. But the damage had been done . . . Andromeda Steel Corp. Field, at least in serviceable shape, was no more. When Gark, Dyklar, and a few others patrolled the scene from the perimeter, it was a horrible sight. The concourses were completely flooded, with pieces of debris floating everywhere. Signs had been washed away, the metal doors on the concession stands warped out of shape and their contents completely flooded. Structural supports had been ripped from their moorings in the fast-moving water, and now the stadium was a hazard to even be near. Drones sent over the stadium showed the entire stadium, or most of the place besides the top deck of seating, completely submerged underwater. And it was not clean water; no, it was filthy, probably brought on by a sewage overflow that had been discovered only hours before. Obviously the system just couldn’t handle it, and all the stops had sprung a leak. That had added water to the rain and spigot water to flood the whole venue. There was nothing to do.

When the media picked up on this, the place was packed with media speeders, camerabeings, and reporters. Gark had to give an impromptu press conference in the parking lot, clearly shaken. All the while, rain continued to fall in a merciless fashion, drenching everyone.

“It has come to my attention that . . . a blown circuit breaker caused a fire that turned on the emergency sprinkler system. However, in combination with the torrential rain from last night, and the continuing precipitation as we speak, the stadium will be difficult to clean out for the next season . . .”

His speech was interrupted by a loud groaning sound, the kind of metallic whining that you never wanted to hear. Everyone looked back at the stadium, the buckling sound becoming louder with every passing second.

“Get out of there!” one of the supervisors yelled to his workers, who scattered from the stadium’s side. Almost instantly, a large section of the stadium, its moorings ripped apart by the waterlogging, caved in on itself, the deck groaning as it came free and then became submerged in the dirty water below. After this part of the deck came free, yet another piece popped loose; it was no longer supported by the other part and its supports were greatly strained trying to keep everything up. This piece joined its neighbor in the water, even more seating now lost to the damage. Gark had hoped that the upper deck might be salvageable . . . but now he wasn’t so sure. A third piece popped free and collapsed in on itself, and finally one of the main pieces of concourse at the ground level collapsed, the weight of the water and the still-standing deck pieces too much to bear for the overtaxed supports. Half of the stadium finally collapsed on itself, the dirty water now rushing out the holes made in the side of the stadium into the parking lot. All the while, the sickening groaning sound of twisting metal and bolts shot out through the area, drowning out everything and everyone. No one in this area was affected by the water, but the sewers were now going to have to deal with this influx of wastewater and whatever else came along with it from the stadium. No doubt many precious items were being washed away as they watched.

This final implosion sent off shockwaves through the crowd of media. Andromeda was destroyed. How was this possible? Was this some kind of publicity stunt? Who could possibly be behind what seemed like a diabolical plot? All the while, Gark knew that his stress level was rising. He felt helpless to do anything here, and what could he do? There was no saving of the stadium, and the heat was going to be on him. People were probably going to blame him for washing out the stadium. They would accuse him of trying to get rid of the stadium in order to build a new one, like they were on Agamar and Nar Shaddaa. His head would be served on a platter, and he didn’t want to think how his name would be slandered in the media in the upcoming days.

“I would like to thank the grounds crew here at the stadium for their efforts in salvaging what they can, and to the emergency responders who arrived on scene to assist the salvage operation. They gave it a valiant effort, but the situation is just too grim. And . . . I take responsibility for this disaster. It’s not fair to pin the blame on the crews who have spent many years working to keep this stadium clean and accessible to all comers for an issue that could not be anticipated . . . therefore, I want to put the blame on myself. The stadium was under my ownership, and now it’s destroyed.” He paused here; he knew that the heat was going to come quickly. Couldn’t he have done something, the media would ask. Why hadn’t there been provision for a lightning strike like that? Never mind how ludicrous such a notion was; what were the odds of that happening again? But it had, and now he was forced to pick up the pieces.


“However, I am also responsible to this planet to roll out a team that gives us all hope for better days. Limmie has been a major force of change here on Coruscant for the last dozen years, and it is my responsibility to make sure that the 275 home schedule proceeds as normal. My organization will work around the clock to figure out what choices we have, and we will rebuild if possible. That’s why . . . why I’m sending out a plea for help, help from our fans, help from the citizens of Coruscant. We need funds to rebuild the stadium . . . anything we can get. And that is all I can say for now.” Even casual observers could tell that the Bothan was under tremendous strain, and as he walked off camera, he looked shaky, slow, and almost deliberate in his motions. He had taken a major body blow here, and knew that he was hopeless to say anything else that could cheer others up. All he could hope for was that the fans would help pick up some of the tab of rebuilding the stadium. But what if they didn’t? The Senators would be without a home stadium, or they would be forced to use the college facilities on the planet. And those wouldn’t be enough to make up for everything. Andromeda wasn’t just the home of the Senators; it was also a civic monument. Hundreds of events rolled through there every year, and without the stadium those things would not be possible. The people of Coruscant needed Andromeda . . . Gark needed Andromeda . . . and now it was gone.

TAG: No One

 

(As a reminder, these events take place before the 275 Draft. This post was approved in its entirety by Vehn)

IC: Falene Trieste
Miners hotel, Nar Shaddaa

Falene knocked on the door that Niskat shared with Nancheka Stormborn. It was the latter who opened it. “What’s up?” the Echani asked.

“You coming along today?” Falene asked.

“No, I’m going shopping,” Nancheka said.

“Shopping? Here?” Falene asked skeptically.

“The Vertical City has certain food vendors who sell things you can’t find on Bakura,” Nancheka explained.

“Are they hygienic?”

“I haven’t died yet,” the Echani said with a shrug.

“Well, I’m here for Niskat anyways,” Falene said.

“Have fun with that,” Nancheka said holding the door open.

Falene cocked an eyebrow and walked inside. The center half forward was sprawled across her queen sized bed with a pillow over her head, apparently still asleep. Falene rolled her eyes.

“Niskat, come on,” Falene said, “We have to leave for the thing.”

“It’s too early,” Niskat groaned.

“It’s 9:00 in the morning,” Falene said.

“Too early,” Niskat repeated.

“But this has to do with the plan,” Falene said.

“I don’t care about the plan. I care about the plan after 11:00 in the morning,” Niskat said from underneath his pillow.

“Plan starts at 9:00 am,” Falene said.

“What’s the plan?” Nancheka asked.

“Yeah, what’s the plan?” Niskat asked.

Falene just rolled her eyes. “The plan waits for nobody.”

“The plan better include breakfast. A big breakfast. With bacon,” Niskat said.

“Only if you order room service right now and start getting ready,” Falene said.

Niskat, head still under her pillow, reached for the hotel comm. She pulled blindly punched a number and pulled the receiver under her pillow. “Front desk? Room 732. Bacon.” Niskat then awkwardly hung the comm up.

“She really isn’t a morning person,” Nancheka said apologetically.

“I roomed with her during training camp last year. Trust me, I know,” Falene said.

“I hate you both,” Niskat said from under her pillow.

---

Valor Foundation facilities, Nar Shaddaa

“Okay everybody, take a seat,” Declan Adama said. The former captain of the Miners had grayed significantly since his playing days but he was still pretty fit. Getting out on the field with the Valor Foundation kids a few times a week to participate in their practices helped keep him in shape. Thank the Force for that. It was one of the reasons that he’d joined up with the organization.

The main reason was that he’d known about the Valor Foundation’s work throughout his entire pro career and he’d known that was what he was meant to do with the rest of his life, even if it meant leaving Bakura to do it. Despite being a Miner, the organization had accepted him. Sure, every time the Miners played the Smugglers the office pranks got a little outrageous and if the Smugglers won nobody let him forget it, but he could put up with that. As he said to every one of them, “Admit it: you love us. You’d be lost without the Miners.”

The truth was that he’d put up with no end of practical jokes and good natured taunting for these kids. The group he had in front of him ranged from five years of age all the way up to high school Seniors. Though providing organized limmie leagues outside of elementary and middle school was not uncommon, the fact that the Valor Foundation hosted high school players was not the norm on many worlds. Not every Vertical City high school had the budget for limmie. The Valor Foundation provided their “house league” for students at these schools at various locations throughout the moon. The primary goal of the Valor Foundation was not to encourage kids to play sports—it was to keep them from getting involved in illegal or harmful behaviors. That was why they provided transportation to their member participants to and from after school practices and there were strict grade requirements to play in a Valor Foundation leagues. Of course, the organization wasn’t heartless to kids who didn’t make the grade. They provided tutoring services to kids who needed it. There wasn’t any tolerance for troublemakers and that kept the atmosphere one of beings who were grateful to be where they were and weren’t going to screw up this opportunity to do something with themselves.

Not every story was a fairy tale. A bunch of kids after getting out of high school wound up on the wrong side of the law and it killed Declan every time. All he could focus on was that so many more of them did something with themselves. A high school diploma meant something on the Vertical City, so they had that at least. The really good ones often got offers for community college and some even made it to VCU.

It was all about breaking the cycle here. They couldn’t save everyone, but they’d be damned if that was going to stop them from trying. And today they were going to shake up the cycle a bit.

“So everybody knows what’s happening this weekend, right?” Declan said the field full of kids.

“Smugglers game!” they all shouted.

“And where’s that going to be?”

“Six Boroughs!”

“Yeah, the new Six Boroughs. Remember when we got to take that tour last week? Wasn’t that cool?” Declan asked.

“Yeah!” the kids shouted.

“Well, as you know, I told you that it was going to be worth your while to show up for practice this week. I have a bit of a surprise for everyone. I brought some friends to help me with practice. Now, you have to promise to be nice to them. Promise?”

“Yeah!”

“Really promise? Like pinky swear promise?”

“Yeah!”

“Hey guys!” Declan said, turning around and hollering through cupped hands, “Think you can show us how you play limmie?”

“I don’t know, these kids look pretty good!” Alana Glencross said as she came out onto the field followed by Aron Rodders, Falene Trieste, Niskat Deenever, Nelly Wizmark, Morgan Alesh, Becki Morlan, Nefroq Vubbins, and Max Grap, “I don’t know if we could teach them anything!”

The kids had gotten visits from the Smugglers players so for a lot of them this wasn’t the first time that they met an Elite League Limmie player, but none of them had ever met a member of the hated Bakura Miners. Except, of course, they’d promised to be nice to them so they couldn’t hate them too much. Besides, this was pretty cool that Alana Glencross and Aron Rodderswere here. They were superstars. Not Meredith Chambers superstars, but they were up there.

The Valor foundation kids applauded and cheered as the Miners joined Declan. “We heard that you guys have been treating our old friend Declan well, so we thought that since you could get along well with one Miner, you could get along with a bunch of us,” Rodders said.

“Yeah, and Declan told us that you’ve all been working really hard on your skills,” Alana said, “He told us that you wanted to show off all your hard work. So you guys ready to have a great practice?”

“Yeah!” they all shouted.

“Okay then!” Declan said, “Let’s get our drill stations set up like usual…”

---

“Hey what’s it like having your mom rule the galaxy?” a middle school kid asked Falene as they practiced kicking together.

“She doesn’t rule the galaxy,” Falene said, “She’s Chancellor of the Republic.”

“My Mom said that your mom is Empress for Life,” the kid continued.

“Well—”

“Does that mean she has a cool spaceship?”

“Yeah, she does, but—”

“I want to be Empress for Life so I can get a cool spaceship!” the kid blurted out.

“You know, if you work hard and make enough credits, you can buy your own spaceship, right?” Falene asked.

The kid stopped. “I can get my own spaceship? Neato!”

Falene sighed with relief internally. She may have just stopped the galaxy from getting its next dictator. She’d chalk that one up as a point in favor of this trip.

---

“Hey Alana,” one young kid, no more than seven, said as he practiced his pass, “I think you’re the greatest, but my dad says you don’t work hard enough on defense.”

“Oh does he?” Alana said, trying to be polite, as she caught the ball.

“And he says that lots of times you don’t even run down field. And that you don’t really try…except in the playoffs, and look how well that goes.”

“The heck I don’t!” Alana burst out, “I’ve been hearing that ever since UBCS! I’m out there busting my buns every night. Tell your old man to drag North and Landa up and down the field for 60 minutes!”

The kid looked at Alana and blinked.

“I mean, uh, nice pass kid,” Alana said, throwing the ball back to him.

---

Aron Rodders was doing a give-and-go scoring drill with the kids. One of them executed a beautiful score right into the back of the net and proceeded to celebrate by putting his hands in front of his hips and then pulling them to the side.

“Hey! That’s my goal dance!” Aron said.

“What are you talking about?” the kid asked.

“That thing you did,” Aron said.

“Uh, no that’s the discount double check,” the kid said, as if Aron was from another planet…which he actually was, “It’s from the speeder insurance commercials. You do it when they get you maximum savings.”

“No, it’s my goal dance,” Aron insisted.

“So you’re a dancer?” one of the kids in line said.

“No, I’m a full forward,” Aron said.

“And I’m a robot,” the second kid said, “Beep bo beep beep.”

Rodders just put a hand to his forehead and shook his head.

“Hey Rodders!” a third kid shouted. Aron looked over. The kid was wearing a blue and gold jersey. “Discount double check!” he shouted as he did Aron’s celebratory goal move.

---

“All right, that was an awesome practice everybody,” Alana said when the time was up, “Are you all going to work hard on everything we went over today so you can be members of the Smugglers when you grow up?”

“Yeah!”

“Well, maybe there’ll be a Miner or two out of all of you,” Falene suggested.

“Boo!” the kids went in unison.

“Or not,” Niskat said out of the corner of her mouth.

“To finish things off this evening, we’ve got one of our alumni games—” Declan started, and was immediately cut off by the kids cheering. Declan explained further as he shepherded the Miners off the fields to the set of stands that overlooked the field. “The kids really look up to the beings who graduate from the Valor Foundation and make something of themselves. A lot of them play limmie after this, sometimes just for community college, other times for one of the universities. When the kids see beings that they knew when they were here and see them doing well, getting jobs, it really hammers home to them what a positive thing it is that they come out here and play limmie. Our alums get bigger receptions than the Smugglers do—and that’s saying something in the Vertical City.”

Sure enough, the two teams were nearly mobbed by excited Valor Foundation participants and the alumni made sure that they gave as many high fives as they could.

“Our alums know that they’re role models too,” Declan continued, “They make it a point to come back for these events and pay it forward. Some of them keep coaching in their spare time. The amount of positive energy that goes into this program is incredible. You’d think that this sort of thing would fail on a world like Nar Shaddaa where you’ve got families who don’t even know if there’s going to be food on the table night to night, but the Smugglers started this right. Maybe they got lucky, maybe they had the Force on their side, but this thing took root and now this is an institution.”

The Miners got front row seats in the stands. Cundertol and Thorne were already there, along with Valerii and Hulu. They’d quietly slipped in during the practice and were now sitting there as the Valor Foundation kids cleared the field to let the alumni do their thing. Adama sat down between Thorne and Valerii.

“Glad to see you’re liking the gig, Dec,” Valerii said, punching her old teammate in the arm.

“Beats getting scoured on the Holonet for going 1-5 in the middle of the season to blow your playoff chances,” Declan shot back.

“Eh, we’ve got the league right where we want them. Overconfident,” Valerii said.

“Can we get down to business?” Cundertol asked testily.

“We are, we are,” Adama said, “There she is. #26.”

“So that’s her,” Falene said from behind Declan.

“What about her?” Niskat asked.

“Just watch,” Declan said.

The alumni game was full contact. Because they had come out in conjunction with the Miners’ visit, all the players were the cream of the crop from the Valor Foundation grads. Most of them had played university ball and only a handful had stopped at community college. The kids ate it up because it was like seeing a real college limmie game—something that their families couldn’t afford most of the time.

Falene watched as #26, who was playing a half back position, read the play. The boloball was coming up towards her and the opposing forward deked a midfielder and was clear into open space. #26 closed the distance. The forward tried a spin move to get away from #26—only to have her adjust flawlessly and level the forward.

Trieste whistled. “Heck of a hit.”

“Keep watching,” Declan said.

They did and #26 did it over and over and over again. They weren’t just solid hits—they were mean hits.

“She’s got an edge to her,” Valerii said. Falene heard a note of hesitation on Valerii’s voice.

“You had an edge to you,” Declan said.

“It’s different,” Valerii said.

“She plays on the line,” Cuth Hulu stated simply.

“More like dances on it,” Cundertol said.

“I’ll admit, she’s intense. A little too intense. But that’s the kind of ball that you play when you come from where she came from,” Declan said, “And I’ll be honest—she takes penalties. If she hadn’t played second string these last four years at VCU then she’d have more to her name, but her playing time has been limited.”

“A penalty-prone second stringer,” Cundertol said with a roll of his eyes, “Just what we need to shore up our defense.”

“A player like her changes an entire team’s look,” Thorne said, cutting in, her voice firm, “We put someone like her on our defense, nobody’s going to push us around anymore. They’re going to pay when they do that.”

“We’re not the Smugglers,” Valerii said, “We don’t play that way.”

“The Smugglers defense bent last season. It didn’t break. And the reason is because they made people pay for their points. They wore down other teams and they went to the Conference Finals,” Thorne said, sticking to her blasters, “Our defense broke. We need something different. The Bakuran-style defense does not play in this League. We need grit and damn it, we need teams to be scared to play our defense.”

“Then let’s go hire a bunch of goons,” Valerii said, clearly not liking this idea.

“She’s not a goon,” Declan said, “She’s got raw talent. You put her in the right environment and she’s going to show it off. She plays tough because that’s the only way she could crack the lineup out here in the university level. But mark my words, it’s there.”

“She could have her uses,” Hulu said in his deep voice.

The GMs and head coach turned to look at Hulu. “Uses?” Cundertol said.

“Yes,” Hulu confirmed, “I believe she could fit in the scheme I’m planning. Defense in the Elite League is like a vibroknife fight. The Nar Shaddaa Smugglers bring a blaster to vibroknife fights. It’s time we start bringing lightsabers to these vibroknife fights ourselves.”

“Quinn?” Briar said.

The Eriaduan said nothing, but watched as #26 drove another player into the turf to the delight of the Valor Foundation kids. Falene, for her part, knew that hit had to hurt. She didn’t envy the recipient.

“I’m in. Trieste, you ready to see this through?” Quinn asked.

“Absolutely,” Falene said.

“Wait, is this part of the plan?” Niskat asked, “Can I help?”

No one said anything. Eventually Deenever sighed. “Next time you guys come up with a plan, you better include me. I mean it.”

---

At the end of the alumni game, the Miners had one last thing to do: sign as many autographs as their hands could take. It was the least that they could do for these kids. Many of them weren’t ever going to have an opportunity like this again. Maybe the memory would fade with time…but they’d have it for quite a while. Even if it did fade, it was still worth something.

Before Falene started signing, she took Declan aside. “Keep this under your hat, but…” Falene said as she handed across an envelope.

Declan arched an eyebrow and opened it. Inside was a check. Declan looked at it and his eyes just about popped. “Falene! This is…” he lowered his voice, “a quarter of a million credits!”

“I know. I wrote the check after all,” Falene said.

“Falene, we can’t take this much from you,” Declan said.

“Sure you can. The Smugglers love cashing checks from Bakura,” Falene said with a playful smile.

“No, seriously, I know the Noble House can’t support you. You can’t afford to give this much up,” Declan said.

“You’ve got it wrong,” Falene said, “I can’t afford not to give it to you guys. I’ll be okay. Them…” Falene looked at the kids. “…well, if no one like me looks out for them, who’s going to do it? Just do me a favor.”

“Anything,” Declan promised.

“Make sure it never comes back to me. I didn’t give you guys those credits so people would hear about it. I did it because it was the right thing to do,” Falene said.

“Promise,” Declan said.

“All right. Now I’ve got some autographs to sign,” Falene said, and she did just that.

---

Vertical City University dormitories, Nar Shaddaa



Eponette Ternardiel stood on the roof of her dorm. Well, it wasn’t going to be her dorm much longer. That was why she was up here. Of course, technically she shouldn’t have been up there in the first place, but when you grew up on Nar Shaddaa you often spent a lot of times in places that you shouldn’t be.

However, Eponette didn’t think about that. All she was thinking about was that in one month she was going to graduate. Her life as she knew it was going to be over. She knew she shouldn’t be thinking about it like that—she was walking out of the best university on Nar Shaddaa with an undergraduate degree. She could count on one hand the number of kids she’d grown up with who were going to hit that milestone at this stage of their lives. Hell, she could count one hand the number of adults she’d grown up knowing who had undergraduate degrees too. This was just something that beings who grew up in the slums didn’t get the chance to achieve. It wasn’t that they weren’t smart or ambitious, but there wasn’t the money. Even need-based financial aid often couldn’t help. If they didn’t get jobs, who was going to feed the family? How were they going to make the rent?

Eponette hadn’t had to deal with those questions. She’d gotten involved in the Valor Foundation for a simple reason and when she’d graduated and gotten an athletic scholarship offer from VCU, she took it on the spot. VCU had been a safe place for her for the last four years. Never mind that she had never started in her career. She was a VCU student. That meant something. Even if it hadn’t meant anything to her, it meant something to everyone back at the Foundation. They’d been the only family that she’d ever had. She’d been good at something with them. She’d been good at something.

She sighed and looked up at the black evening sky. That was why she came up here. On Nar Shaddaa there was too much ground light, but you could kind of see the stars, the really bright ones at least. Life out there was better than what was here. She hadn’t just seen the holos. She’d gone on the road trips with the team. She’d seen other worlds firsthand. Things were clean there. Beings were happy. Beings were proud. Beings had something to be proud of, something that was their own that wasn’t broken and dirty. Something worth having. Something that wasn’t Eponette’s.

Eponette Ternardiel didn’t know what was going to happen in 30 days when she graduated. But she knew what wasn’t going to happen. She wasn’t going to leave the Vertical City. She was going to stay here. She’d thought when she started as a freshman that this was going to be it. This was her ticket out. She was going to leave this all behind. She was going to make something of herself.

But now she knew that she wasn’t. She would be stuck here. Maybe she’d be able to do something with her Bachelors that others couldn’t…but she’d still be on Nar Shaddaa. She’d still be in the dirt and she’d look at the stars every night and know that there was something better out there, something that she was never going to have.

The door to the roof slid open and Eponette cursed under her breath. She was going to have to sweet talk campus police. Again. With an excuse already on her lips, Eponette turned around.

And found two humans and a Nautolan coming through the door, none of which were wearing campus police uniforms.

“You aren’t supposed to be here,” Eponette said, realizing that was a stupid thing to say. She wasn’t supposed to be here either.

“Your roommate said you liked to come up here,” the tall male human said, “We wanted to talk to you.” He was wearing a black overcoat. Eponette’s mind ran quickly. Cops. Frak. The shorter woman looked familiar. Young, but familiar. Not good.

“I’m Quinn Cundertol of the Bakura Miners and this is Falene Trieste, our starting center half back,” the man said.

Eponette’s heart skipped a beat. That was why she looked familiar. She must have seen Falene on HSN—and maybe at today’s alumni game. “Who’s he?” Eponette asked, nodding to the Nautolan.

“My Senatorial Guard protection,” Falene said, “He doesn’t bite.”

“Your mom lets you come to Nar Shaddaa?” Eponette said, remembering whose daughter Falene was, “With one bodyguard?”

“Not without overriding extreme objections from the Senatorial Guard,” Falene said.

“I’m going to die an early death of worry with you standing on rooftops in the open,” the Nautolan muttered.

“So what do you want with me?” Eponette asked.

“We understand that Declan Adama at the Valor Foundation has convinced you to declare for the 275 Elite League Draft,” Cundertol said.

Eponette snorted in derisive laughter. “Yeah, like anyone’s going to draft me.” She suddenly stopped. “Wait, you’re not going to draft me, are you?”

“That’s our plan,” Cundertol said.

“You know I’d sign a contract with you right now, right?” Eponette said, “If you want me to be a Bakura Miner, I’m on board.”

“No lingering loyalties to the Smugglers?” Falene asked.

“Hey, I don’t see Tover Micjaa on this roof,” Eponette said, “They know the Valor Foundation kids and VCU is their backyard. I’d know if they wanted me. They don’t. And even if they did…I’d rather go with you.”

“Why?” Falene asked.

“Because I watch ELL games. I’ve seen the local shots of Bakura. It’s a hell of a lot better than here,” Eponette said, “I’d do anything to get out of here. So if you’ve got paperwork—”

Cundertol held up a hand. “As a declared draft player, we can’t sign you. But we will draft you.”

“You know I’m a second stringer, right? No one’s going to draft me. Sign me after the draft. You can do that right? Don’t waste your draft pick on me,” Eponette said. She chuckled. “Man, I’m negotiating against myself, aren’t I? Guess I couldn’t make it clearer how much I want to get out of here, could I?”

“No, we’re drafting you,” Cundertol said, “provided you keep your mouth shut about this. I even hear a rumor on the Holonet the Miners are interested in you and everything’s off. Then you will be stuck on Nar Shaddaa, I guarantee it.”

“But why draft me at all?” Eponette asked again.

“Because I didn’t draft Vesper Lynd because I thought I could sign her after the draft and that may be one of the biggest mistakes of my entire career,” Cundertol said.

“We just want to know—are you in? You’re going to get real famous real fast. The moment that Niakara Kayl’hen reads your name, there will be reporters at your door,” Falene said, “Trust me. I’m the daughter of a Chancellor and becoming an Elite League player was still a jump.”

“I’m in. Whatever it takes,” Eponette said, “Whatever it takes.”

“That’s why we want you, Eponette,” Cundertol said, “We’ll see you at training camp then. Until then.” The three turned to go.

“It’s not Eponette,” she called after them.

Cundertol and Trieste turned to look at her. “What is it then?” Falene asked.

“Ponie. That’s what my friends call me. Ponie.”

“See you on Bakura, Ponie,” Falene said.

When they had gone, Eponette Ternardiel looked up to the stars. There were even less than before not because it was getting brighter, but because she couldn’t quite see them through the tears in her eyes. She didn’t care that she couldn’t see the stars right now.

All she cared about was that she was going to them sooner than later.

---

Visitors’ Locker Room, Six Boroughs Stadium, Nar Shaddaa

“I think this locker room is better than our locker room at the Gardens,” Falene said as she looked around.

“Well they certainly get the most improved award,” Alana said appreciatively.

“Wasn’t hard. I think they have working freshers in here now,” Becki Morlan said.

The new locker room was just that—new. It was a stark difference from the decrepit surroundings that usually greeted visitors to Six Boroughs. Clearly some major Vehn and Ypres money had gone into the construction of this. Though the visitors’ facilities were obviously not fully outfitted, they were still pretty impressive. The locker room was spacious and had pretty much everything that one could ask for when you were on the road. It might have been a shame to get rid of one of the oldest stadiums in the Elite League, but nobody on the Miners was complaining.

However, they could have done without the giant Smugglers logo with its death’s head on the wall across from the door. It was accompanied by the following greeting:

WELCOME TO SIX BOROUGHS STADIUM​

​

WHERE YOUR DREAMS COME TO DIE​

It was mural sized and impossible to ignore or cover. The empty eye sockets of the skull gazed ominously upon the Miners as they got dressed. Falene didn’t know how often everyone else was looking at it, but she knew that she was glancing at it every few minutes. She hated that it was getting in her head.

She also knew it was typical Nar Shaddaa Smugglers.

---

In their road whites the Miners walked down the hallway to the pitch. The start of the game, the first game at the new Six Boroughs, was about to start and it was going to do so in appropriate fashion with a rivalry game. The Smugglers were a team you loved to hate because they got under your skin and they won games that you hated to lose. It was so fitting that the stadium should be christened with the Black & Blue Battle.

This would be a historic game and Falene was part of it. As they got closer and closer to the field and closer and closer to the start of the game, she could feel the new Six Boroughs swell with sound and anticipation. Well, it seemed like they didn’t change some things in the new version. Something told Falene that this place was still going to rock and roll like the old Six Boroughs. I think that everyone was still going to come on and feel the noise in the Vertical City.

“Hold up—not quite ready,” a VCPD officer said right before the end of the tunnel, “Pregame stuff finishing up. We’ll give you the go ahead when it’s time.”

The Miners stood in the tunnel, which was funneling the noise of the crowd at them. Falene wondered if that was another conscious design choice to intimidate the visitors. She wouldn’t be surprised.

Falene was at the end of the line with Niskat behind her. As she waited, Falene noticed that there were several VCPD officers in the tunnel. They weren’t quite in dress uniform, but they were all neatly turned out in clean uniforms. Even the new Six Boroughs made the police look better.

“So, what is this? Punishment for you?” Falene asked one standing next to her, “Having to make sure that nobody comes after the Bakura Miners?”

“I requested this duty personally,” the officer snapped, “This is a position of extreme trust and honor to any officer of the VCPD, to work game day at Six Boroughs, especially opening day of the new stadium and especially escorting the visiting team.”

“Well, good for you Officer…Vercrup,” Falene said, reading the officer’s name tag, “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Vercrup said peremptorily, “This stadium is a symbol of everything that Nar Shaddaa is becoming. We are taking this moon back from the gangs and we are stamping out crime.”

“Oh that’s nice,” Falene said, “Hey, I think I have to go play limmie now. Good talk officer.”

Vercrup pulled himself up to his full height with pride and said nothing. Falene turned around to Niskat, who rolled her eyes at the puffed up VCPD officer. Without saying a word, they high fived each other hard in their pregame ritual.

“Let’s spoil this party,” Niskat said.

“I’m with you all the way,” Falene said. She turned back around and the police officer at the head of the line waved his arm. The Miners broke into a run and hit the blindness of the bright lights of the new Six Boroughs Stadium.

Memories would be made here. The only question was what sort.

TAG: Vehn CPL_Macja

 

IC: Gark S’rily
Home, Coruscant

Gark didn’t want to talk to anyone for any reason. He just stared off into oblivion as he sat sideways on the sofa, his legs curled up under him. It had been a week since Andromeda had collapsed, and yet he could think of nothing else. It consumed his mind, the image of twisting metal, the groaning, the thoughts of history now falling into a puddle of sewer water, that was unbearable. The ‘Drom, as it was sometimes referred to here on Coruscant, had seen a lot in its admittedly short life. And now it was gone forevermore. They could rebuild it, but the stadium that had seen two Galactic Cup-winning teams, one Final, several high-profile college games, Senator rivalry games, the burial place of an old friend . . . and for a time his last resting place as well. Now it was no more.

It seemed silly to a layperson that the Bothan wasn’t caring about anything else, but for Gark, this was a travesty. When that first section of deck had come down, he just couldn’t take it anymore. It was like a part of him had died. Andromeda had been his pet project, and now it had been rendered useless. What he needed now was something consistent, something to cheer him up.

“You’ve been sitting there for hours,” Me’lin finally said as she entered the room. She had left him alone for the most part over the last week, but obviously was no longer interested in seeing her husband wasting away on the couch like this, lost in a train of defeating thought. “It’s just a stadium.”

“It’s not just a stadium,” Gark replied bitterly. “It was our stadium . . . my stadium.”

“But it can be rebuilt,” Me’lin said. “I know it will cost a lot, but it can be done. At least it wasn’t a person.”

“That’s the thing,” Gark said. “It almost had a life of its own, like . . . it could speak to me. I felt its pain as it crumbled down, each section going in after the other. It was like watching a horror movie in slow motion, as you could do nothing to prevent the death of your friend at the hands of the killer. And I got a nice seat to witness it all unfold.” He paused here for several seconds. “What I’m trying to say is . . . is . . . I’m scared, Lin. I really am.”

“Scared of what?”

“What the media thinks of me, what the fans think of me, what the team thinks of me . . . what I think of me. I’ve already heard rumblings in the press about it being my fault. Why did the stadium have to be destroyed? Why?” He looked and sounded strained.

“I’m not going to lose you to worry, all right?” Me’lin finally said. “That’s why you’re going to convene everyone today, and I mean today, to get this mess all straightened out.”

“But . . .”

“No buts, Gark. You call a meeting of the team general staff, and we get this hammered out. No exceptions, just action. You want a stadium? Then get your ass in gear and do something about it.”

“I don’t feel like it,” Gark said.

“Do I need to drag you out of the house?” his wife inquired.

“No, I’ll do it,” Gark said sullenly. Then he called for the meeting, although he was still only half with it.

---

Gark sat in the boardroom at Team HQ, still shaky from the events of the previous week. Sitting around him were his trusted associates, such as Londy Whiste, Adanna Inviere, and Me’lin, who he wanted there for moral support on his part. Also there were a few of the old Senator greats; Dirxx was here, as were Polis and Shayt.

“What now?” was all Londy could ask.

“I don’t know,” Gark replied, propping his head on his hands. “We don’t have enough money to rebuild the stadium using just team or company funds. Even though the company brings in profits, there’s . . . not enough. We wouldn’t be able to pay our players or staff . . . or even those who run the stadium on game day or otherwise. Someone would lose out . . . and that’s if we can rebuild. Dyklar said that the stadium could be emptied of water in a few days, and they could start demolition . . . but I don’t want to take the rest down until I know we have a plan in place.”

“Do we need a stadium?” Londy asked.

Gark shot him a dirty look. “Of course we need a stadium,” the Bothan replied. “We would be foolish not to have one.”

“But like you said, boss, there aren’t enough funds to completely rebuild the place,” Londy said in a disparaging tone. “What choice do we have but to try and work around it?”

Several seconds of silence followed this as everyone tried to figure out what could be done. And then Adanna spoke up, breaking her silence.

“I have an idea,” she said. “I know it’s radical, but . . . what if we sell pieces of a new stadium for a fixed price? You know, so that a donation of a certain amount to the stadium fund would buy a brick, or a seat, or something along those lines.”

“You mean incentivize the process, make it somewhat collectivized?” Londy asked. Adanna nodded.

“It would be the fastest way to raise the money, and would also give beings a chance to say that they own a piece of the stadium,” she added. “And then . . .”

Gark moved his head off his hands. “That’s brilliant!” he blurted out.

“Excuse me?” Adanna asked, interrupted mid-sentence.

“It’s genius!” Gark exclaimed. Something was clicking. The creative juices were flowing once again in the empty cavities of his mind. “Listen. If we have a major fund drive, offering pieces of the stadium for certain donations, people will not be able to resist. If we run this stadium drive like a company . . .”

“It can be publicly traded, or at least owned,” Me’lin finished.

“Which means that . . .?” Gark prodded.

“We will have stakeholders?” Londy asked.

“Yes!” Gark said. “Or, at least have a stake in the process. People are more likely to donate money to the cause if they know they’ll get something out of the deal. We could . . . I don’t know . . . dedicate a seat in the stadium for a 100 credit donation . . . or something . . . larger donations could get a luxury box named after an individual, or a corporation . . . and then we could sell our sponsorships to fill out the rest . . . and the best part is that the people will get their say on what they want the stadium to look like, and in future renovation projects. This idea has made my day.”

“Excuse me, but we don’t exactly have any plans on what we can do,” Adanna said. “Besides, even if we get the funds necessary to rebuild, it may not be in time for the beginning of next season.”

“We have to try,” Gark said. “Lin, can you send out a press release?”

“Sure,” the Twi’lek said. “What do you want it to say?”

“That’s what I want to figure out before we leave the room today,” Gark said. “We need to figure out our fund drive for a new stadium, and I have some ideas on how to pull that off . . .”

When all was said and done, a press release was presented to the media, not just on Coruscant but also elsewhere. It stated the goals of the fund drive, and listed the incentives for donating money to the cause. Now the ball was out of Gark’s court and in the court of the fans and companies. It was their turn to make something happen with the team.


TAG: No One

 

IC: Kaitlyn Vehn
The Saga of a Modern Stadium, 275 ABY


Kaitlyn Vehn opened her eyes and took in all that is, reflected on all that was, and contemplated all that could be.

She thought of her son Jack with his extended family on Roon. Thought of her cheating husband and how she really wanted to stick it to him in court. Thought of the less than ideal return home to Druckenwell and how disappointed she had been with all that. Thought about the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers and how the draft had blown up in her face. Thought of the completion of New Six Boroughs and all the troubles that had followed during the entire construction process, the labor disputes, the unfortunate accidents that led to several construction workers being killed, the constant meetings with her accountants who were screaming at her to watch her money, to not overextend herself, to be careful.

The old anger inside her swelled and churned. She wanted to lash out. Punish those who had wronged her and defend those who had been wronged. She refused to let go of her anger as it was the only thing keeping her from experiencing the healing that her mind and body so desperately craved. Her friends had intervened when they saw how much she had changed. She had fought them, fought hard, really fought against herself but quietly agreed to go through anger management treatment under the guise that it was for her son Jack.

Enter the Jedi Knights of the Third Republic. Arbiters of peace and stability throughout the galaxy and setting historical trends on Nar Shaddaa as their kind hadn’t been on the Smuggler’s Moon since the time of the Neo-Sith War, maybe beyond.

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, smelling freshly clipped grass, drying paint, the sharp hint of new electronics being activated for the first time, and centered herself in her heart. She wasn’t sure if this whole meditation thing was going to work. In fact, she had her doubts, but whatever, here she was sitting at midfield of New Six Boroughs, a day or so before the friendly game against the Miners, trying to get in touch with the deepest, most pure parts of her soul. Truth was, it sounded like a bunch of new-age Roonian hippie poodoo but her friends had sworn by the meditations and the Jedi had vouched for their effectiveness.

“Now, exhale,” a voice belonging to Master Vas Kiall said.

Kaitlyn exhaled and released all of her thoughts, her emotions, and the subsequent tension in her muscles. She imagined seeing all that she had held inside of her being sent to the light of the great universe. Well, that was what the Jedi had said for her to do so she was doing that. At first, she wasn’t sure it was working. Thought this was a bunch of crock and privately hoped none of the workers had noticed her strange morning ritual. But as she relaxed and settled into the moment, listening to her heart beat, the slow, steady, exhale, she had to agree it was starting to work. She was going deeper and deeper into a meditation, into a place of pure consciousness, of quiet thought.

She slipped through space and time, into memory, into another point in her life, a pivotal point. She was suddenly a young girl again waiting next to her father’s massive black office desk in his sprawling corner office that overlooked the financial district of II Avali, the capital of Druckenwell. She’d often admired that desk and quickly associated it with power and money, two things that she had always been told that a being of respect and influence could never have enough or do without.



William Ypres swiveled in his high-backed office chair and looked at his young daughter for the first time all day. The man worked all the time. That was a fact. Somehow, someway, he had also done his best to make time for Kaitlyn on his day’s off which were very few and far between.

“I got your report card the other day,” Ypres said.

Kaitlyn gulped. She remembered this day. The anger returned and did something else: resentment.

“You got a D in social studies. Explain yourself.”

Kaitlyn heard her little girl self explain in an indirect and insecure manner how that particular grade had come about.

“If you want to be an influential person someday, Kaitlyn, you need to do better. Getting a D is not acceptable. Leaders do not get bad grades, they excel, they push themselves harder, and they never fail. I did not bring you into this world so that you could be just another average person. You are better than this. Besides, do you think I got to where I am by struggling at school?”

“No, Papa,” Kaitlyn heard herself say. She knew what was coming next. The infamous lecture about how the Ypres family had been great for generations.

“The Ypres Foundation was started nearly a century ago when…”

Kaitlyn tuned out the lecture. She’d heard it so many times and could recite it by memory. But her heart ached and her soul felt fractured and crushed underneath the harsh boot of her father’s expectations. He never understood her. Had never understood her. And all her life she had been trying to please him, to do right by him, to make him proud of her. But that was pointless. That wasn’t really what mattered.

What mattered, Kaitlyn realized as she pulled out of her meditation, was that she had been letting herself down, that she hadn’t done everything she needed to do in this life, and how she had been using all that anger, all that resentment, to hold herself back, to not fulfill her purpose. She realized now that her purpose and destiny were intertwined with the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers. They were the catalyst for change in her very soul and she had been fighting the Vertical City and the team for a very long time. But the battle inside of her was over. She now had true understanding and an idea of what truth was the highest and best for her.

She had blamed her life’s woes on everyone else. When she lost her position as Chairwoman of the RTO, she blamed the Board of Tribunes. When her husband had cheated on her, she’d blamed him, but as she opened her eyes and looked at the world anew, she suddenly realized that she had failed to take personal responsibility for her own life and its many mistakes. It was so easy to point the finger at someone else for all the things that had gone wrong in her life. But that wasn’t the way to handle problems. The only way to handle problems was to take personal responsibility and work on her own issues, especially issues surrounding her father. That was the key.

“Welcome back, Mrs. Vehn,” Master Kiall said.

Kaitlyn looked over at Master Kiall and found that she was now in a darkened meditation room of Ossus. New Six Boroughs had faded away. A mere holographic display, something to keep her focused, centered. She was a long way from home and her arrival on Ossus had been several days ago.

“I know what I need to do,” Kaitlyn said to Master Kiall, to the room.

Kiall smiled and folded his hands together. “And what might that be?”

“Take personal responsibility for my actions and move beyond my anger, my resentments, my fear,” she said. “I’ve realized that there is only so much I can control in life. Everything else I need to let go. I’m ready to return home.”

“And that you are. You have come a long way in such a short amount of time, Kaitlyn. You have taken the first step toward your path of personal enlightenment. Remember, young lady, that with great power comes great responsibility. Be wise in all that you do and May the Force Be With You,” Kiall said.

“And also with you, Master.”

---

Black and Blue Friendly Game

The Arrival





“Kaitlyn, over here!”

“Looking beautiful!”

Kaitlyn, wearing a lovely evening dress, posed for the holocameras and assembled media, her brown hair flowing in the artificial winds of the Vertical City. She felt so alive for the first time in a long time and didn’t mind the extra media attention. After all, the opening of a new stadium was quite the publicity stunt and she was making sure to put her best foot forward at all times.

“Marry me, gorgeous!” That one was from a fan who leaped over the security barrier and onto the red carpet. The guy didn’t make it very far as he was tackled by police and quickly cuffed.

Her thoughts flicked to her holdout blaster, strapped high up on her right leg, out of sight, but not out of mind. She smiled and acted like nothing happened as the police hauled the malcontent off. Flicking her hair with her hand, Kaitlyn walked down the red carpet, posing for a few more photos, before disappearing into her new stadium.



As she walked down the concourse, she was blown away by how wonderful Six Boroughs felt. Sure, she’d been involved in some of the design meetings, but she had never really understood how large and intimidating a modern professional sporting venue could be until today. Now, as she enjoyed the transparisteel windows that dominated the exterior of the structure, she could see her money being put to good use. This stadium was more than building a legacy for herself, it was about the fans, it was about Nar Shaddaa.

She enjoyed the small luxuries to be found in the owner’s box and then allowed a moment to emerge onto the veranda that overlooked the verdant pitch and the daunting yet impressive logo of the franchise resting at midfield ready to eat some players from Bakura for lunch. The giant holoscreen hanging from the center of the stadium was now dominated by her own image. The crowd went nuts, wild, and the stadium shook. Oh, it shook and jived just like the old one, except this time nobody had to worry about
the stands collapsing.

“Vehn! Vehn! Vehn!” A chant began to circulate.

Kaitlyn waved, smiled, and knew she had done right by the city, but most importantly, done right by herself.

Damn, she felt real good right now. Real good.

Tag: No One

 

IC: Gark S’rily
Team HQ

Gark sat at the table in the conference room, twiddling his thumbs as he waited. He and the rest of the organizational brass were here waiting for the plans that the people of Coruscant had decided would be the best to replace The ‘Drom. Gark, who had been dreading bad news about money needed to fund the stadium, was still unsure of how big a stadium the fans wanted to build. Unlike on Nar Shaddaa, where public money wasn’t used in the building of the new Six Boroughs, the Coruscanti public had been all too willing to spend money, especially after the incentive program the Senators had rolled out. There had been so many callers from all over the galaxy that even Gark found himself answering comlink calls, taking donations towards the stadium cost and taking down the names of the callers. It was difficult to reply to some of the callers, as their accents were heavy or they needed to use a translator unit or droid, but he thought everything checked out. The server had almost crashed several times during the onslaught during the first day, but at least it had held the line like ‘The Wall’ used to do on the field. The people were interested in helping out. They knew the value of a stadium for the Senators. Gark knew the value of a stadium for the Senators. This was all he could have asked for.

Finally, the door to the conference room opened, and one of Gark’s assistants came forward with a sealed envelope. The Ishi Tib slid the envelope over to Gark, who nodded. “This is it, boss,” the man said. “The vote wasn’t even close. Landslide win.”

That made Gark nervous. What had the fans decided to vote on? Was it going to be simplistic or extravagant? Or did they want an exact replica of Andromeda as it had once stood, 750,000 seats and all? Would they make it a high school stadium lookalike? Or would they shoot for the moons of Iego, as the saying went? Gark slowly slid his fingers through the envelope seal, breaking it cleanly as he went. Finally the envelope was slit open, and inside was a piece of flimsy. A solitary piece of flimsy that would determine the fate of where the Senators would hopefully play for the next 50, if not more, years.

“This is going to be huge,” Londy Whiste commented.

“I know,” Gark said. “I just hope we have enough money to cover it.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much yet,” Me’lin said. “It really depends on what the fans want, and how much they’re willing to pay to get what they want.”

Gark closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could see Andromeda in his mind’s eye, the stadium he had helped make great during his time with the team, standing over him like a specter. It had a ghostlike quality to it, and it almost seemed to speak to him in a metaphorical sense. It didn’t say any words, but he had known the place about as well as anyone, and he had created a connection with it. The people of Coruscant had also been deeply rooted with the venue, and no doubt they wanted to have a place where they could go and relive that magic. Even 50 years down the road, they wanted to see the stadium and know why it was there. They would want it to stand for everything the Senators stood for; a rallying point for the people of Coruscant. Something to cling to in times of trouble. Something to look forward to after a long work week. Something to believe in when all hope seemed lost. Something to inspire those who needed confidence. Something to call their own.

Gark slowly slid the flimsy out of the envelope, feeling its papery texture in his fingers as it slowly emerged from its hiding spot. Now it was the moment of truth, to finally look inside the mind of the fanbase. To see what they wanted to see on gameday, and every day. Deliberately taking his time to open the flimsy, Gark took another deep breath. This was it.

Now the flimsy was all the way open, and Gark finally took a peek. What he saw he had not expected in the slightest.

It was an absolute palace. From the sketches, he could see a mostly-domed roof, with some natural light being allowed in at the apex of the dome. Three . . . or make that four . . . decks of seats in stadium style, jutting out to the side as they went, fitting more fans into the space. Down at the bottom of the page said three simple words. One Million Fans was all it said. One million fans, Gark mused. One million Senator fans in black and orange cheering on their team to victory. One million believers in the cause. One million reasons to win the game. One million reasons to give this planet, and the Senator fanbase throughout the galaxy, something to hold onto and call their own. This was exactly the kind of place the Senators could use. This was the kind of place Coruscant could use.

And then he thought of money. This plan reeked of credits. It would take a ridiculous sum to be able to pay for this whole thing. He moved the flimsy down so that he could look at everyone else in the room.

“Well?” Adanna Inviere asked.

“How much have we raised so far?” Gark asked.

“About 250 million,” Me’lin said. “Why?”

“I think we’re going to need a lot more,” Gark said, sliding the flimsy towards Londy. The “owner” picked it up, scanned the page, frowned, and then moved it over to Adanna. When everyone had seen it, Gark opened the floor to discussion.

“That place is huge!” Londy commented first.

“The fans certainly want us to go big or go home,” Me’lin mused.

“Outrageous cost,” Adanna said. “I don’t think even Six Boroughs cost as much as this sucker . . .”

“It’s exactly what the fans want,” Dirxx said, causing everyone else to fall silent. “The fans want it, so they expect us to build it.”

“But with what funds?” Gark asked. “We don’t exactly have half a billion credits lying around to spend on it.”

“Give it time,” Dirxx said. “If we build it, or if we promise to build it, anyways, they will come. Trust me.”

“It’s not like I don’t trust you, but this isn’t exactly . . .”

“Trust me,” Dirxx said curtly. “I think you’ll find these people are full of surprises.”

“I hope you’re right,” Gark muttered to himself.

“It certainly is a nice place,” Adanna said. “Wish I could have played at a place like that. The roar of the crowd, the feeling of the grass beneath my feet . . . that would have been something.”

“Even better than the Gardens?” Gark asked snidely.

“No, but close,” Adanna replied.

“Still an old Miner at heart, eh?” Gark asked.

“Partially. But I’ve put that aside for this job. Besides, I was a Senator too,” Adanna said. “I just thought the Gardens felt more . . . I don’t know . . . familiar . . . more of an intimate experience as a player . . .”

“Is there an estimate for how much this place is going to cost?” Gark asked his assistant.

“Estimate’s about 1 billion,” the man replied.

“1 billion, eh?” Gark repeated. “And we have 250 million in the bank, plus some small funds we can drain . . . you all know what this calls for.”

“What?” Londy asked.

“Better get on those comm channels, because we’re going to need credits, and a lot of ‘em,” Gark said. “We need to find some sponsorships. See if we can find some large names to fill in that deficit. Lots of companies want to get their name on a place. Let’s use that to our advantage.”

“I still think this is crazy,” Londy said.

“Well, the fans want it, and they want us to build it,” Gark said. “We have no choice. Besides, there’s something . . . special about that place. I can feel it.”

“It’s special because it’s large and costs a crapload of credits,” Londy said.

“Exactly,” Gark said. “Time to make some calls.”

The great fund drive was on. They were 25% of the way there; now they just needed to find the other 75%, and within the next few months to have any chance of getting the new place ready for 276. This season was out of the question, but if they could rustle up the funds now, then it would be the only season away from a real “home” stadium. When 276 rolled around, the new place would be built. It had to be.

“So, not to be a buzzkill or anything, but if we can’t get this place ready to go for this season, where do we play?” Londy asked.

“I’m going to look into a radical idea,” Gark replied.

“Which is?”


“Last time we needed a stadium, we went looking to the Super 16 for some help. The way I see it, we can benefit them, and they can benefit us as well by giving us a home stadium. Now, there are 6 Coruscanti schools in the league: The U of C, the Air Fleet Academy, CorTech, Valorum U, National U, and Republican U. I figure that if the league lets us, and they may not, depending on the variables, that we can play a home game in a different stadium each time. That way, we help out each school in turn by hosting a game there. They get a percentage of tickets and concessions sold, along with our fees for using the stadium. But I think it would be an interesting way to give back to the planet. You know, foster goodwill with the colleges around here. And if we can’t, there are a couple of places that might suit our needs. We played at Republican all those years ago for an entire season, and at CorTech for that playoff game a few years ago. So we have options. But I would like to go to each place if possible. That’ll be sent by the League at some point soon to see what options we have. Until then, we keep working on our stadium situation, and answer calls. Mostly the latter. So happy answering.”

TAG: No One, although Trieste for the League's response to such a schedule proposal.

NOTE: Sorry to link to everything, but my Photobucket bandwidth seems to have been used up for this month.

 

IC: Fenton

Eventually Fenton rolled out of bed. He made his way to the entertainment center and pulled up his newly purchased ELL ’75. Fenton always played the Starkillers and he almost always won. Today was different. Today Fenton played as the Patriots. He absolutely crushed the Starkillers. He put bolo ball after bolo ball past Galaxy Defender and into the goal. It felt good, so he played again, this time as Hapes. Before he knew it the entire day was almost over and he had seen Galaxy Defender lose to every ELL team in the league.

Not that Fenton wanted the Starkillers to lose. After all they still had 14 good, respectable players. He’d been a Starkillers fan since birth and he wasn’t about to let one bad muja fruit change that. Limmie players come and go he reminded himself. Galaxy Defender wasn’t reason enough for him to switch allegiances now. Besides Limmie players were disposable. With any luck he’d be traded, injured or just blow up on the field and be let go. That last one was Fenton’s preference.

Then he remembered the upcoming scrimmage the Starkillers would be playing. Last year’s so called Friendly game against Kuat had been a disaster. The Starkillers had no business playing the game again and risking injuries to key players again. Could he be so lucky? Could Galaxy Defender end up on his back, unable to get up and play this season? Just for a moment Fenton allowed the fantasy to play out in his mind.

There was one major problem with the upcoming game that Fenton couldn’t get past. He did not want to report to work. Not this weekend and not ever. He was certain everyone on Ralltiir had seen the piece on HSN. How could he face his co-workers? How could he stand the jeers from customers that he was sure to receive? He decided he had no choice but to quit.

On the day of the game Fenton left his house as if he was going to work. The new shirt he received to wear on game days in Starkiller orange and blue, still unopened, he placed in his pack as an extra layer of precaution to keep his mother from suspecting what was really going on. He headed towards and even got on the public transport tube heading towards the stadium. When the car began to fill up with Starikiller fans Fenton was worried that he would be recognized and ridiculed. Thankfully the fans seemed to be too caught up in pre game anticipation to notice him.

He got off a few stops before BankersMansion, found an inconspicuous looking café and claimed himself a booth. The place was nearly deserted. It would be a perfect hiding spot until the game was over. His mother would never know he didn’t go to work. An eager server appeared ready to take his order. “Would you be interested in this morning’s special, Myonock eggs over easy?” The man asked.

Fenton looked up. “Actually I would like the Besalisk toast with powdered sugar, extra syrup and a hot chocolate.” Fenton said.

“Wait a minute.” The server said, completely ignoring his order. “I know you. You are the Nacho guy from HSN.”

Fenton looked at the table.

“Fueling up for the big game today?” the waiter asked.

“I quit that job.” Fenton stated sourly.

“That’s too bad. Looked like a great gig to me. Getting to attend Starkillers games and get paid for it. I’m stuck here all day. They don’t even have a holovision. I miss everything. Why did you quit?”

His plan was falling apart, so much for lying low all day. “It would be too embarrassing to go back.” Fenton admitted quietly.

“That’s all the reason more to go back. The last thing you or any of the rest of us wants is for Galaxy Defender to think he’s won anything more than a few games of Limmie.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll have them make your breakfast on one condition.” The server continued. “You promise me you’ll go to work today.”

“How can I?” Fenton protested. “All people see when they look at me is a fat person. A good for nothing lazy bum.”

“If you don’t like your image, you can change that. The first step of proving your not lazy is to show up for work. The first step to becoming less fat would be to have the eggs, not the Besalisk toast and definitely not the added powdered sugar and syrup.”

Fenton made a face. “I don’t like eggs.”

“Hot cereal, a bowl of fruit, perhaps?”

“I could try the cereal.” Fenton said defeated. “Can I still have the hot chocolate?”

“Of course.” The waiter offered. “I’m not telling you to change everything. Or that you have to change at all for that matter. It just seems that you are unhappy and I am only suggesting how to improve upon yourself.” He paused a moment pulled a datapad out of his pocket, brought up a picture and showed it to Fenton. It was a photo of himself. But it took Fenton several seconds to recognize him. “You see this?” He asked. “That was me a few years ago.”

“How much weight have you lost?” Fenton asked in amazement.

“The number’s not important. What’s important is that I feel better about myself. I think I know how you feel right now and if you need someone to help, someone to be your friend. I’m here for you.”

“Why me?” Fenton asked.

“Who would pass up the chance to prove Galaxy Defender was wrong?” The server asked with a smile. “Let me get that cereal for you.”

Fenton wasn’t even sure he knew what just happened. Before he knew it he was back on the public transport tube headed towards Bankers Mansion Stadium.

TAG: No One

 

GM Post

The regular season is only one week away! Yay! However, we still have some unfinished business to attend to, don't we? Bonus rolls to Agamar, Bakura, Mando'ade, Nar Shaddaa, Ralltiir, and Rydonni Prime.

Final Week of Friendlies
Bakura Miners at Nar Shaddaa Smugglers (19-36)
Kuat Triforce at Ralltiir Starkillers (32-25)
Chandrila Patriots at Mando'ade Mercs (13-31)
Rydonni Prime Monarchs at Balmorra Blasters (2-8)
Agamar Packers at Naboo Ducks (7-34)

TAG: Bardan_Jusik CPL_Macja Runjedirun Tim Battershell Vehn

 

IC: Falene Trieste
Six Boroughs Stadium, Nar Shaddaa

Falene knew she should care. She knew she should be mad. But when getting lit up on defense happened every single week it was hard to feel anything but numb. That was the problem. This was getting all too familiar. Expected, even.

Were they down a starting half back, midfielder, and goalkeeper? Yes. But the Miners had reserves. Were they as skilled as the reserves of other teams with deep development systems? Hardly. Cundertol stacked his starting line up with as much talent as he could find. He got breadth of skill but not depth and when you played games without those starters, things didn't go so well.

The Miner defense in their trio of friendlies had been atrocious. Even the Stewjon game when Jorpik had still been on the team had been absolutely terrible. With the Smugglers riding the high of their brand new stadium, the Miners didn't stand a chance all game.


Falene sensed the feeling of defeat by the time the second half rolled around. At that point the team was just going through the motions. They knew that they weren't coming back to win this game. It wasn't counting towards anything in the standings. The Smugglers were going to get a nice marquee victory to open their new gaudy stadium. A stadium that, knowing Nar Shaddaa, wasn't going to stay clean long. Well, maybe it would stay clean for a couple of years, but this was Nar Shaddaa. Of course, maybe if they had those Valor Foundation kids doing the post-game cleanup the place would keep its shine.

"I can't believe we're losing to these guys," Wizmark called to Falene while the ball was in the other end of the field.

"Game's not over yet," Falene said through grit teeth.

That was very true, because the Smugglers were working the bolo-ball back up the field. They passed it to Matsoto on a crossing route, but Falene wasn't going to have any of it. The moment that the Twi'lek caught the ball Falene slammed into him and put him onto the turf. The reserve half back who was playing in T.K.'s old spot immediately booted the ball up the field.

"This game's not over yet," Falene repeated as she got to her feet.

---

The game was over and the Smugglers had indeed trounced their old Outer Rim rivals. Since the game was a friendly, the two teams did the traditional playoff handshake line. Falene put on the best face that she could as she congratulated each Smuggler on a good game.

"Good work today Bree," Falene said to the former Miner. Though the two hadn't played together, Falene had known Tarth from Noble House owner-team interactions.

Other players had friendly words for old friends. Kashvili was a former Miner herself, though her road to Nar Shaddaa hadn't been a straight one. Niskat had warm words for her old Golden Bear comrade, Shady Lerouex.

When the handshake line had been completed, Alana Glencross handed over the Old Whiskey Trophy. It stung to watch the Smugglers take it away, worse than any fire that Vertical City whiskey stung when the Miners received the trophy themselves. Though it was "just" a friendly, it still stung to see that trophy get handed over. Falene knew she didn't want to see any more and walked off the field with an all too familiar feeling of defeat.

Inside the tunnel to the visitors' locker room, Falene found Cundertol coming towards the team.

"Quinn! You better find me a damn good goalkeeper in the draft!" Valerii called. Her tone of voice was far from pleasant.

"And a midfielder, I know," Cundertol said, "It's a priority."

"You've got the third overall pick and the first pick of the second round. Not even you can screw that up," Valerii said.

"Trust me, I know," Cundertol said, "It's taken care of."

---

Trieste residence, Salis D'aar, Bakura
During the 275 Elite League Draft

Falene watched as Cundertol smashed a datapad in anger at having lost both Chiss goalkeepers.

"How the hell did he screw that up?" Falene said to an empty room in utter shock.

This was going to be a long offseason.

TAG: Vehn