Saga Before - Legends Saga - PT Before the Saga 100 Drops of Blood and Ink | Drabble Challenge - UDC XI

Hilarious adventure with Davin finding his friend Felix (the cat monster for the village) Will we see more about him?

 

Super description of the scenery and Davin tracking down a fearsome ginormous cat. Love the teasing with Felix. LOL I can imagine Felix can be a daunting sight plus there's doubtless no small amount of exaggeration going on.

 

Definitely! I think there should definitely be more Felix stories in the world.

Thank you

Yep, Felix is the new OC. He's definitely very charming and very absent minded. Also you're right that it was fun to play with the Hound of the Baskervilles type of monster story

Thank you

Definitely a daunting sight - especially at night time and on the moors.

 

Week 11 - Lamp lighter


Lesson Plans
(Teach)

Saelyra was going insane. She swivelled on the crutches the healers had given her, bumping her hip into the desk and sending a cascade of plasti sheets and data pad cascading onto the ground.

“Osi'kyr,” she swore under her breath.

“More emphasis on the ‘O’,” Davin said, pausing at the doorway. “Otherwise you change the meaning.”

“Thanks,” Saelyra said, frowning. She hopped awkwardly, as the Force warned her that another set of datapads was teetering on the edge. “Is cleaning up your office an appropriate punishment for dislocating my knee in training?” she asked, “because I already think spending the next two weeks confined to quarters and lessons is probably punishment enough.”

*

Learning goals
(Perception)

“I’d invite you along to my meeting with my informant,” Davin said, “but I’m not carrying you if we need to hightail it out of there.”

"But cleaning the study is a massive job," Saelyra said with a sigh. "And one you'll undo in a day or two anyway."

“Think of it as lesson in patience, then. Although, padawan mine, as your Master, I can say that if you don’t want to clean the study, then you either need to meditate or brush up on your Mando’a—your swearing need work.”

“That sounds so much more interesting," Saelyra retorted sarcastically.

Davin chuckled. “Don’t overdo it, now.”

She scowled, hoping he got the full weight of her displeasure through the Force. It didn't work and she could hear him still chuckling as the door to their apartment snicked closed behind him, leaving her standing awkwardly in the middle of the chaos.

Saelyra scowled, prodding the mess with her crutch. “Mir'sheb.”

*

Hidden motivation
(Learn)

Saelyra adjusted her eye cover, and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers. Four hours and she’d almost finished corralling the field of debris that Davin thought of as his office. The Force murmured that there was another box under a shelf. Pulling it out with the Force, she sneezed as clouds of dust, finally released from their prison, rolled through the air. Her fingers brushed datapads older than she was. She started one, frowning slightly as it purred into life. The dust clung to her fingers and made her nose itch. How long was it since anyone touched this stuff? Then again, who wanted a report about an outer-rim world no-one had ever heard of? Sighing, she went to turn it off but her fingers caught the speaker button. The crackling AI voice caught her attention.

…padawan Ea's stomach felt like he'd just swallowed a swarm of butterflies.

Butterflies, he thought. Of course I’m falling in love with my best friend.

His face burned hot as if some kind of fever raged within his skull. The more the man gazed at him…

Saelyra grinned. This was far more interesting than old reports.

*

Reproof
(Seek)

Davin stumbled in through the door, the glow of the alcohol still clinging to him. He dropped his boots into the basket by the door, wincing at the clatter they made. For a moment he stood still and silent, listening - frowning as he caught the faint murmur of a one-sided conversation from his office. His frown deepened. Saelyra had to be asleep; it was far too late for her to still be up.

He clumsily made his way down the corridor, trailing his hand against the paintwork to make sure that he remained upright.

Pausing at the doorway, he saw Saelyra lying on her back, her injured leg propped up on a cushion. Around her lay scattered datapads, like fallen leaves, and at her side a familiar box - its lid flung open and its contents gone. From the datapad she was holding came the sound of long-forgotten prose.

Suddenly, Davin was very, very sober.

*

Opprobrium
(Protect)

He cursed silently. He should have disposed of those datapads a long time ago, it was just that it felt like getting rid of them was somehow getting rid of her. Now it was too late.

Clearing his throat, he stepped into the room. Saelyra shot up in alarm, gasping as the sudden movement jolted her injury. Her face flushed white and then scarlet.

“Master, I didn’t hear you come in,” she stammered, her voice too loud in the still-night air. “I must have lost track of time.”

He stepped past her and began to gather the datapads from the floor. “I should have thrown these out long ago.” His heart was hammering and his mouth was dry. “You couldn’t find anything else to do except rummage through my ancient junk?” He tried for nonchalance, but his voice was harsh and his hands were trembling.

“They don’t seem like junk,” Saelyra said gently.

Davin let out a short humourless laugh. “That’s because you haven’t read them, and they weren't yours to read.”

*

To be continued...

 

Having to clean up a mess is made worse by the injury but then Saelyra makes a surprising discovery and Davin is totally EMBARRASSED.

 

Saelyra and the mess she has to clean, but not THAT. What has she discovered?

 

I mean wouldn't you be if your kid discovered your early writing? Although some embarrassment and more the emotional turmoil of what those stories represent.

All of Davin's early writing. All of which she's read (or rather listened to) in one setting.

Yeah, this is less about the writing (although that is still embarrassing) and far more about ripping off the emotional bandaid all in one go.

They definitely aren't junk in the way that Davin is trying to say. Although it's Saelyra and so not only is she going to take notes, she's going to prod and prod at that wound until all the infection and disgusting stuff is washed away. Even teen Saelyra is somewhat formidable.

Thank you for reading and commenting every week

 

Your wish is my command...

*
Week 12 - Soon

***

Blood
(Rasp)

The blood stone was hungry again. Shadara rolled her eyes and beckoned to the guard who dragged the squealing, wriggling grotthu to the altar stone. The knife glittered, momentarily catching the light of the dying afternoon sun. Blood flowed freely, and Shadara drank in the fear and terror that roiled through the Force. She slid her hand through the blood that pooled on the altar stone, revelling in the last vestiges of life that flickered in its depth. With every death her power in the Dark Side only grew. Soon she would be the most powerful Kissai, and then no-one would stand in her way.

Soon.

*

Power
(Salt)

“Mistress.”

Shadara's mouth curled into a smile at the sight of Volkta. He was shirtless, his oiled muscles shone blood red in the midday sun. He was her most loyal general and occasional bed mate when the nights were long. Behind him stood ranks of loyal Massassi, their weapons gleaming.

“Are you ready,” she asked, curling her fingers against the rough surface and feeling the dried blood of her last kill catch underneath her fingernails.

“My men will follow you to the end of the earth, my Mistress.”

She licked her fingers, tasting the copper and salt, and feeling the ripples of power from the stone. She patted it gently as if to soothe it.

Soon.

*

Betrayal
(Green)

“Shadara,” Lady Serathys’ hooded eyes held nothing but disdain. “You think to stand against me? You are a mere sapling, and know so little of true Sith power. My power runs deep - carved from the blood and pain of my ancestors.”

Shadara stroked her chin tentacles, watching the lines tighten around Serathys’ mouth at the gesture of obvious disrespect.

Out of the hologram’s frame, she made a gesture and Volkta nodded. She could hear him give the commands to load the energy canon.

“I believe you have misunderstood the purpose of our meeting,” Shadara said, trying not to let the glee show in her face. “I am not asking for your permission or forgiveness for what I’m about to do.” The picture of the hologram pixelated as the first mortar hit. Even though the tiny speakers of the hologram, Shadara could hear the cries of Lady Serathys’ own Massassi guard.

“I’m just letting you know,” Shadara said softly, her voice like steel through silk. “That death will come soon.”

*

Sacrifice
(Smoke)

Volkta had fallen early in the battle. Shadara knew she was not supposed to feel anything for a bedmate from a lower caste, but her heart ached for him. She had used the Force to drag him through the smoking ash and heaved his body onto the blood stone. As she stood over his corpse, Shadara had watched the rest of her army fall. She hurled spells at her enemies, torn them apart with roiling waves of energy, but they had kept coming.

Now it was too late. She could see Lady Serathys’ battalion wheeling towards her position.

The knife glimmered in the haze and heat of the afternoon sun as Shadara plunged it into her own chest. She fed her life-force to the stone. One final sacrifice so that she could live again in a new body. One that she would find. One that would be stronger than this mere shell. She would rise again.

Soon.

*

Rebirth
(Ascend)

She’d waited so long that she’d almost forgotten her own name. Millenia had passed, weather had worn away at her, chipped pieces off as the seasons changed and the earth reclaimed the relics of what had been her civilisation.

Occasionally she reached out, wrapping her mind around the small, nothing lives that she found in the valley. It never worked. They went insane too quickly, scattering their bones amongst the detritus on the valley floor.

This new mind though was different. Bright and keen, but smudged with so many tiny fingerprints of past darkness. She reached out again, calling to it and felt a rush of angry pleasure when it responded. Her stone cage shifted as hands cradled what was left of it.

The entity, the one they had once called Shadara, shivered in pleasure. Soon this new life would be hers to command.

Soon.

 

Gripping and chilling back story.

 

Really like this first line!

If I'm understanding right, you haven't posted the events of what happens to poor Alessi yet? The added context definitely makes the exact details of what will happen more intriguing...

Thank you for indulging my curiosity!

 

Horror at its best with Shadara and the bloodstone.

 

nvm

Edit: The Jedi Shadow stories really scratch an itch I've had since being introduced to the character of Lene Kostana in Dooku: Jedi Lost. It's a type of character I hadn't realised existed before.

 

Thank you!

Not yet, I think I need to write a bit more about how she falls with this particular stone, and what happens after the Jedi manage to incapacitate her.

Yeah, I mean if you're trying to find the key to levels of ridiculous power, then giving up your soul to possess it seems like such a small sacrifice when you're a Sith?

Huh, I hadn't even realised the parallel, but it's kinda cool!

Thank you for reading them and for the lovely comments!

Thank you Means a lot to hear I got it right

The Shadows themselves? Or a particular character? The Shadows are definitely cool to write and play with.

 

Week 13 - The Sitter

***
The distraction
(Pool)


Jedi Master Kristi stared out over the water and tried to clear her head. She had to forget about Ryt'n and the way he made her heart beat faster.

“Padawan Dor!” His name was accompanied by a loud thump. Davin sat bolt upright, spilling datapads and styluses. Master Anjou was watching him, and Davin flinched away from his Master’s obvious exasperation.

“Would you believe I was working on my conjugated Mandalorian?” Davin said, holding up a datapad. He swore that his Master rolled his eyes.

“Not for a second,” Master Anjou said. “I need your attention on the here and now, padawan. Especially for the task I am about to set you.”

*

The bribe
(Brew)

“Caff, Master?” Davin said, frowning at the cup in his hand. His Master had let him order whatever he’d wanted from the menu without his normal comments about Davin’s predilection for cream, caramel, and as many shots as the cup could possibly fit. “Why does this feel like a bribe?”

“Because it is,” Master Anjou said.

“I thought the negotiations were going well,” Davin said as they headed along the wide, carpeted corridors of the Tripordian Hotel.

“They are,” Master Anjou said. The ripple in the melody of his Master’s Force signature suggested otherwise, but Davin said nothing.

“So what do you need me for?”

“I need you to babysit.”

*

The mission
(Tears)

Davin stopped dead. “No way, Master. I’m an archivist, not a creche master. I’m not exactly comfortable with snot, tears, and any other-” he shuddered - “bodily fluid.”

“You’re a Jedi, Davin,” Anjou said, continuing to walk. Davin jogged to catch up. “I would have thought that after seventeen years in the Temple and five years as my padawan, you would have learnt that a Jedi does whatever is asked of them. I am an archivist, but for these peace talks I’ve been asked to play the role of a consular, so I will. You are being asked to be a babysitter and so-”
“And so I will,” Davin said, parroting the mantra in weary resignation. “I don’t know how useful I can be in this particular situation.”

Anjou pushed the door open and Davin winced at the bright light that flooded through. Master Anjou shaded his eyes as he stepped out into the sunlight. “More help than you think.”

*

The reveal
(Waters)

The pool deck was covered with scantily-clad people lounging on deck chairs, or drinking at one of the many bars that dotted the area. The sun overhead was painfully warm and bright, Davin was suddenly acutely aware of his thick Jedi robes and the way that they clung to his already sweating body. He headed towards a group of children by the far side of the deck, when Master Anjou’s hand on his shoulder pulled him up short.

“Where are you going, padawan?” Anjou asked.

Davin pointed towards the group of children. “I’m babysitting, aren’t I? Those are babies?”

Anjou smiled as if Davin was late getting to the joke.

“That’s not your charge,” he said, pointing to the other side of the pool deck where a young felacatian man with white hair was lounging on a deck chair surrounded by a bevy of beautiful young men and women. “That is.”

*

The problem
(Elixir)

“Master,” Davin said, failing to keep the exasperation from his voice. “That is not a baby. That is a young man. He looks like he’s the same age as me.”

“That’s because he is the same age as you,” Anjou replied.

“Yeah, and so he doesn’t need a babysitter,” Davin pointed out. He noticed that his Master hadn’t slowed in his walk, picking his way between the bathers. Anjou stopped suddenly, and turned to face his padawan.

“That is Felix Giao. He’s the son of Senator Giao. Last time there were peace talks, that young man caused three diplomatic incidents in a week and crashed two landspeeders in quick succession.”

“So maybe Senator Giao should have left him at home,” Davin said, pointedly.

Spotting them, the young man raised his drink in acknowledgement; the crystal blue liquid shimmering in the sunlight. Master Anjou’s jaw clenched. “He was at home. That’s why Senator Giao has brought him with him on this particular trip.”

“And so what am I supposed to do?” Davin asked, confused.

“Make sure he doesn’t get up to trouble,” Master Anjou said, fixing a smile on his face as they drew near. “By any means necessary.”

 

Nice talk about babysitting and fascinating what the nature of the task really entails.

 

To babysit a young man. That will be quite a challenge for Davin.

 

Catching up, catching up...

Broken Song was absolutely heartbreaking, and you used the fact that Davin perceives the Force as music to great effect for this set, both with the titles and the body of the text. It was particularly chilling when we saw him still perceive a little of Alessi's melody, smothered under the evil one that is possessing her through the stone. And then, in Soon, we get to read the origin story of said stone, and wow, just wow. So much cruelty and malice was poured into this stone; no wonder Alessi couldn't resist it. This was a fantastic little tale of ancient history, complete with mythical elements and long-forgotten battles, yet it fit seamlessly in this collection and connected the dots for more recent events.

The Monster in the Moors had me laughing out loud. Felix the absent-minded Felacatian! Who would've thunk that he was actually the Cat of the Baskervilles. This was so well-executed as a story; you really fooled me in the beginning that Davin was off on a monster-hunting adventure, but as always with him, things are not what they seem. Even the story of his first encounter with Felix in The Sitter wasn't what it seemed. Like Davin and everyone else, I expected that he'd find himself looking after a kiddo, but instead, it was Felix! I have to say that I'm very, very eager to know more about Felix after just two sets of drabbles. Between his wild youth and his absent-mindedness, I just know that there are many great stories to be told!

Lamp Lighter was another one that made me laugh. What a way for Saelyra to find out about her master's secret hobby! I'm assuming that Davin's embarrassment isn't just the fact that he doesn't share his hobby, but also that he's still going through the time when Alessi's death has left him without words, and the fact that Saelyra doesn't think his writing is junk may well be an element that will set him on the path to writing again.

All caught up! I'll be around whenever you're ready to update.

 

Thank you

Particularly if it's Felix! He's not your typical young man in any sense of the word.

Totally, most of which would happen by accident because, as we've discovered, he just doesn't think.

Thank you

Aww, thanks. Titles took some work to make sure they fit (more work then I normally give them) so it's really nice to hear that they worked.

Yep, she really had no chance - particularly after all the other Sith artifacts and relics she's handled in her life time.

Hopefully I get to tell those stories...seem to be lacking plot bunnies at the moment.

Absolutely that - plus the embarrassment that all writers have about secretly believing their work is awful - but most of Davin's angst comes from Alessi.

 

Author's word of advice - do not read these and listen to sad songs at the same time...

*

Week 14 - Widows and Orphans


*

Heartbreaker
(Widow)

Nimt Shrof was dead and she hadn’t said goodbye.

Illinlude stalked through the halls of the Temple, trying to drive away the pain through whatever means necessary - meditation, katas, sleep, distraction, anything - but nothing was working. It felt ridiculous to be torn apart by the little Bimm with his silly concepts about what it truly meant to be a Jedi, but he had been the one constant in her life and now he was gone.

Ilinlude kept expecting him to appear, to hear his voice rattle endlessly about rules, twisting them into intricate and incomprehensible prose. Now the Temple was quiet and she hated it.

In life he had annoyed her with his endless desire to record everything, or obfuscate the meaning of simple rules but in death he had managed to do something no-one else could.

He had broken her heart.

*

New life
(Shroud)

The universe was on fire and the Force was screaming.

Jedi snuffed out like candles - each death a sharp chime through the Force, a cacophony that almost drove her to her knees. Gripping the turbo-lift railing, Saelyra shuddered. Pain, anger and - she frowned - bewilderment vibrated through the Force. Betrayal.

She grimaced. That, at least, she had dealt with before.

Stripping off her outer tabards and tunic, her hands moved with practiced speed, tearing and knotting the fabric into something new.

When the lift doors opened, two troopers stationed on the other side hesitated, lowering their blasters as an old woman hobbled past them grumbling about disrespectful youngsters.

Under her makeshift headscarf, and despite the pain that ebbed through the Force, Saelyra allowed herself a small, defiant smile.

She could only get revenge if she lived through her own death first.

*

In the dark, the shadows hide.
(Graveyard)

There was a scraping noise in the darkness.

Caelum let out a deep sigh. His fingers trailed against the warm earth walls, a reassuring comfort in the ever-present gloom of the Multvarf warrens. He knew where he’d find her. It was the same place she’d been for the last six months, withdrawn into memories of those they had lost, forgetting to live in the here and now.

He turned the corner and saw her, bent over the latest stone. She didn’t look up, the tools in her hands skittered across the stone.

“Master?” He braced himself for her vacant, hollow-eyed look. “You need to have a break.”

Her hands paused, the name of one of the Jedi lost in the massacre etched neatly into the stone.

“I need to finish,” Tara said, her voice echoing in the cavern. “There needs to be markers. That way they won’t be forgotten.”

Caelum shook his head, eyeing the neat little rows of carved rocks: each one named, each one a sentinel in the darkness. He sighed again. “There is breakfast when you’re ready.” He turned without another word, leaving her to her memories.

Behind him the noise started again.

*

Perfect
(Shrive)

One more time and it would be perfect.

She pushed her body through the kata, placing her feet precisely, trying to recreate the exact moment where she had failed; when the monster had sunk its claws into her Master and summoned the end of everything she had ever known.

She breathed, knowing that this was the only safety from the relentless thoughts that slithered through her head, scolding and shrieking that she was never enough, that it was all her fault. That if, for once, she had been a proper Jedi, a good Jedi, a perfect Jedi - then her Master would still be alive. She spun, willing tired muscles to work despite her lack of sleep and sustenance.

It wasn’t enough.

Her ankle gave way, sending her tumbling to the ground. She rose, wobbling slightly; trying to forget the pain of tired, torn muscles and aching joints. She took up her position on the mats. Telling herself that she just had to do it one more time.

This time she would be perfect.

*

Padawan of my heart
(Haunts)

It was supposed to rain on days like today.

It certainly wasn’t supposed to be a clear, sunshine-filled day, where waves of shimmering heat rose from the stone pathway outside the big, bay windows. A day where birds sang, and the breeze lifted flower heads and danced trails of leaves through the air.

Master Anjou reclined in the big soft chair pushed out into the afternoon sun. His skin was wrinkled and papery, his frame thin and crooked, although the width of his shoulders and barrel chest showed the man he once had been.

Davin found himself watching his Master’s chest rise and fall, and half hoping he wouldn’t wake. Anjou’s mind had wandered as old age claimed its price. He often forgot who he had been and what he had meant to others. Sometimes it was as if Davin was a ghost, other times Anjou remembered only half of their lives together. Those were the hard days.

A cracked and frail voice jolted Davin out of his reverie. Anjou regarded him through heavy-lidded, rheumy eyes. His master smiled and the Force sang with love.

“You came, Padawan of my heart.”

Despite the ache in his chest, Davin smiled.

Today would be a good day.

 

Very plausible range of coping strategies. Each is either trying to forget or memoralize. Haunts was particularly touching as Anjou is sometimes present emotionally and mentally to varying degrees. Davin is there, to forge whatever memories can be made, to continue the connection/bond between them. That kind of unwavering loyalty and devotion is fantastic and tremendous given all Davin has been through.