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Awards 2016 Fan Fiction Awards | Excerpts and Synopses Thread for Before, Saga and the Random Award

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  1. Chyntuck

    Chyntuck Force Ghost star 5

    Jul 11, 2014

    The Excerpts and Synopses period for Beyond and Sequel Trilogy is now closed, you can see the thread here.

    In this thread you will find excerpts from the nominated stories in Before and Saga, as well as the Random Award. We hope that everyone will read these excerpts before voting and vote on the best story/author for the category, not just your favourite person.

    Dates for Excerpts and Synopses in Before and Saga: from 17 to 26 April 2016
    No excerpts will be excepted after 26 April at midnight PST.

    Remember, Before and Saga are separate eras with separate nominations and a separate voting process. The voting thread will go up on 27 April 2016.

    All nominated authors should have already received a PM requesting excerpts or synopses for their nominated stories. If your story is listed below and you haven’t received a PM yet, please contact Before_Awards_Sock for Before and SagaFanficAwards for Saga.

    Authors who haven’t submitted excerpts/synopses yet may still submit them until 26 April 2016 at midnight PST. If we haven’t received your excerpts/synopses, we will simply have your stories listed with a link to the story thread.

    Rules for Excerpts and Synopses
    • Nominees may submit an excerpt OR a synopsis for each one of their stories.
    • Excerpts/synopses must be submitted by PM.
    • Nominees should not disclose their nominations, publicly or privately, before the Excerpts & Synopses Thread goes live.
    • The absolute deadline to submit excerpts or synopses is the closing date of the excerpts thread (16 April for Beyond & ST).
    • If a story is nominated in more than one category, it is recommended, but not required, that the author submits a different excerpt/synopsis for each category.
    • For Best All-Around, Best Epic, Best Series and Best Author/Best New Author, the maximum word count limit is 600 words.
    • For all other categories, the maximum word count limit is 300 words.
    • Excerpt (NOT synopses) may be prefaced it with an introductory sentence that should not exceed 50 words.
    • For the purpose of word counting, we will be using this word counter.
    • For Best Series, authors may submit either a single, continuous excerpt, or several fragments from the various stories that make up the series.
    • For the character and relationship categories, excerpts should feature the nominated character or relationship.
    • For the author categories, authors may submit any sample of their writing that was posted on the JCF during the eligibility dates (01 January 2015 – 31 December 2016).
    • Authors should supply a link for each one of their excerpts/synopses. This may be a link to the opening post of the story, or a link to a specific chapter.
    Other Info

    This thread will be locked and stickied, so if you have any questions please post them in the Awards Guide or PM the overseer or the relevant sock.


    Why are excerpts limited to only 300 words?
    Due to the amount nominations that are going to the voting round, we don't want people to have to read > 20,000 words just to vote. Let’s face it, most people won’t. Keeping the word count down means people are more likely to read before voting. Since it is so low, we are allowing you to link to a specific part of the story, instead of it being the first post. (Obviously, one post stories can’t do this.)

    How do I link to a specific post of a story?
    In your thread, you will see that every post has a number on the bottom right side of the post next to “Like” and “Reply”. Click on that and it will bring up a link to that post. Copy and paste that and use it as your link.

    If my story is nominated for more than one award, do I have to use the same excerpt for every nomination?
    Nope, unless you really want to do so, but we figure the more people see of your story, the better!

    If I’m nominated for Best Interpretation of a Canon Character or Best OC, does that person need to be in the excerpt?
    Yes they do, since the writing of that character was what you were nominated for. If you were nominated for one of the relationship awards, your excerpt should have those two characters interacting.

    ** Note for those nominated - As you are all aware, sometimes the formatting on here can get a little wonky. We try our best to keep it neat, but it doesn’t always work so let us know if we need to fix something!


    Post 2: Random Award
    Frozen by divapilot – nominated for Best Diary Entry From Inside Carbonite by Sith-I-5​
    Frozen by divapilot – nominated for Best Stasis by Ewok Poet​
    Breakfast on Yavin IV by Jedi_Lover – nominated for Best Sleepwear by Annia Piet​
    The Galactic Correspondent by Kahara – nominated for Punniest Character Name/Best Reference to a Central American Amphibian by Raissa Baiard​
    Was NOT Part of the Plan by Lady_Misty – nominated for Wackiest Character Origin Theory by Findswoman​

    Post 3: Before – Best Alternate Universe
    Just Ask Dad; or, Talking Things Through on Taris by Findswoman​
    Getting to Know You by K'tai qel Letta-Tanku​
    Attachment by LuvEwan​

    Post 4: Before – Best Canon
    Home by Admiral Volshe​
    A Cold Day on the Pike by gaarastar58​
    A Taste of Rootleaf Stew by jcgoble3​

    Post 5: Before – Best All-Around
    Home by Admiral Volshe​
    Guard Duty by ardavenport​
    A Cold Day on the Pike by gaarastar58​
    Sword of the Night Sky by gaarastar58​
    Schism by Jedi_Perigrine​
    Getting to Know You by K'tai qel Letta-Tanku​
    Epiphany by leiamoody​
    Nar Shaddaa: Noir #1 - Blush Response by metophlus​

    Post 6: Before – Best Character
    Qui-Gon Jinn in Guard Duty by ardavenport​
    Stanislauff Rzewanczkowski in Just Ask Dad; or, Talking Things Through on Taris by Findswoman​
    Tok/Darth Cozus in A Cold Day on the Pike by gaarastar58​
    Zia Amopharis in Epiphany by leiamoody​

    Post 7: Before – Best Relationship
    Katts Rzewanczkowski/female Revan and Stanislauff Rzewanczkowski in Just Ask Dad; or, Talking Things Through on Taris by Findswoman​
    K'tai qel Letta-Tanku and Obi-Wan Kenobi in Getting to Know You by K'tai qel Letta-Tanku​
    Bastila Shan and Meetra Surik in Bastila Shan - An Autobiography by metophlus​

    Post 8: Before – Best Author
    K'tai qel Letta-Tanku​

    Post 9: Saga – Best Alternate Universe
    She Shall Rise Again by Admiral Volshe​
    Attack of the Clones Alternate Ending by Admiral Volshe, Chyntuck, Darth_Furio, Goodwood and Satine Naberrie​
    What History Will Say of Us by AngelQueen​
    Emerging from Shadows by Cushing's Admirer​
    Sins of the Fathers by DarthIshtar​
    Crossing Enemy Lines by EmeraldJediFire and WarmNyota_SweetAyesha (formerly Nyota's Heart)​
    Path of a Jedi by Master_Fay_Fan​
    The Jedi Empire by NightWatcher91​
    Handoff by TheProphetOfSullust​

    Post 10: Saga – Best Canon
    Turn Your Face to the Sun by JadeLotus​
    Versé, transformed into a flower by Pandora​
    Hypothetically Speaking by skygawker​

    Post 11: Saga – Best Humour
    The Galactic Correspondent by Chyntuck, Ewok Poet, Goodwood, Kahara, SabyneAmberle, skygawker, Viridian-Maiden and WarmNyota_SweetAyesha (formerly Nyota's Heart)​
    An Obi-Wan Challenge by earlybird-obi-wan, Jedi Master Kenobiwan, laloga, obimom (a.k.a. Obiwan456), ruth baulding, serendipityaey and Valairy Scot​
    On the Many Uses of Space Wrap by Lazy K​
    The Jedi's New Clothes by Lazy K​
    Gnats by pronker​
    Ain't Me by Rau_Fang​
    Chunky Cheese by SatineNaberrie​
    Return of the Jedi Humorous Version by study3600​

    Post 12: Saga – Best All-Around
    Attack of the Clones Alternate Ending by Admiral Volshe, Chyntuck, Darth_Furio, Goodwood and Satine Naberrie​
    Another Other by Annia Piet​
    Crossing Enemy Lines by EmeraldJediFire and WarmNyota_SweetAyesha (formerly Nyota's Heart)​
    The Broken Boy and the Blind Master by gaarastar58​
    Can't Look Away by Kahara​
    In the Cards by Raissa Baiard​

    Post 13: Saga – Best Epic
    She Shall Rise Again by Admiral Volshe​
    Star Wars Episode One: A False Dawn by carl_hollywood​
    Hanna's Story by Cynical_Ben​
    The Book of Gand by Findswoman​
    Into The Archives by skygawker​

    Post 14: Saga – Best Short Story
    Ownership by Annia Piet​
    About a Boy by Ewok Poet​
    Opus Sixty-Six by Findswoman​
    The Song Hour by leiamoody​

    Post 15: Saga – Best Series
    The Hanna Shirid Series by Cynical_Ben: Hanna's Story, Interlude - Mandalore
    He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother by JadeLotus: A Man of Honour, His Welfare Is My Concern, Respite
    The Tristan Kenobi Series by JediMaster_Jen: The Other Side of Betrayal, The Tristan Betrayal
    The Jaye Tatsu Series by Shira A'dola: "Here's How It Started", I Rise, Mondo
    The Alexis Wentlas Series by whiskers: Breakout, Survival Instinct, Surviving Hope
    The ANH Infinities Series by whiskers: Dignity, Rebirth, Routine Mission

    Post 16: Saga – Best Interpretation of a Canon Character
    Obi-Wan Kenobi in Turn Your Face to the Sun by JadeLotus​
    Obi-Wan Kenobi in A Chosen Path by KELIA​
    Sly Moore in An Unexpected Surprise by KELIA​
    Yoda in It's a Drabble! SW Edition by Poe Drabbleron (a.k.a. Admiral Drabblar)​
    Obi-Wan Kenobi in A Different Path by SkalenFehl​

    Post 17: Saga – Best Original Character
    Zizi Pao in The Song Hour by leiamoody​
    Aala Naberrie in Fallen by serendipityaey​
    Raede Kolinkar in Half the Battle by Thumper09​
    Galen Wentlas in Empire Day by whiskers​

    Post 18: Saga – Best Villain
    Padmé Amidala in What History Will Say of Us by AngelQueen​
    The Wanderer in Snowed In by Ewok Poet​
    The unnamed telepath in Need to Know by Lazy K​

    Post 19: Saga – Best Canon Relationship
    Luke Skywalker and Mara Jade in Crossing Enemy Lines by EmeraldJediFire and WarmNyota_SweetAyesha (formerly Nyota's Heart)​
    Teebo and Latara in Snowed In by Ewok Poet​
    Jango and Boba Fett in The Father by gaarastar58​
    Kanan Jarrus and Hera Syndulla in Apologies and Observations by Jags_Scoundrel​
    Luke Skywalker and Mara Jade in Can't Look Away by Kahara​
    Luke Skywalker and Beru Whitesun-Lars in Forget Me Not by Sara_Kenobi​
    Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi in Hypothetically Speaking by skygawker​

    Post 20: Saga – Best Original Relationship
    I-Five and Magash Drashi in The Chronicles of I-5YQ by Ewok_Slayer​
    Luke Skywalker and Kess Lendra in Living Legend : Book 1 by Kess Banta​
    Zizi Pao and Mariklare Trindello in The Song Hour by leiamoody​
    The narrator and Versé in Versé, transformed into a flower by Pandora​
    Raissa Baiard and Doran Blayne in In the Cards by Raissa Baiard​
    Obi-Wan Kenobi and Aala Naberrie in Fallen by serendipityaey​

    Post 21: Saga – Best Author

    Post 22: Saga – Best New Author
    Annia Piet​
  2. Chyntuck

    Chyntuck Force Ghost star 5

    Jul 11, 2014
    Random Award

    Award Name: Best Diary Entry From Inside Carbonite
    Author: divapilot
    Title: Frozen
    Nominated by: Sith-I-5

    I see her, clear as day, giving me that side look. Shooting off her mouth with some wise-cracking comeback. Driving me up a wall with her insistence on putting others before herself. Making me rethink everything I had assumed was a given in life.

    I don’t know what possessed me to kiss her on Hoth, while the base was literally falling apart around us. I guess when there’s a high probability of death in the next hour or so you decide to throw caution to the wind and kiss the girl, devil take the consequences. You know, shoot first and pay for the clean-up later. Don’t think it through.

    Chewie said I was an idiot, that anyone could see that Leia was attracted to me. You’re about as thick as they come if you don’t follow up, he said. But I wouldn’t say it. Always thought there’d be a time for that later.

    I remember the way she felt in my arms, so soft and strong at the same time. I remember how I had to bend down to kiss her, and how she reached up to put her arms around me. Not even Chewie knows how that one kiss in the corridor on Hoth had led to another, and another. Then the sound of her quiet footsteps as she came to my bunk onboard ship. And before I knew it, there I was, in love with her.

    That’s when I get really worried that I’ll be trapped here forever. Because then I can never say what I need to say. I don’t know why I didn’t just tell her on Bespin. She knows. But she should have heard me say it.

    And now I may never get another chance.

    * * *​

    Award Name: Best Stasis
    Author: divapilot
    Title: Frozen
    Nominated by: Ewok Poet

    The first thing that hits you is the shock wave. Carbonite is cold; I mean really, really cold. The kind of cold that you think you’re prepared for but then it socks you like a punch in the gut. Your head whips back, your limbs instinctively go into a defensive position, and you try not to gag as that liquidy air slams into your lungs. Then you feel it crawling all over you, petrifying you.

    You’d panic if you weren’t paralyzed already. But then, being locked into a paralytic state while kept artificially alive is a living death.

    And the weirdest thing about being frozen in carbonite is that it isn’t really being frozen at all. You hear everything, you sense everything. Not all at once, mind you – thankfully there’s some months of solid oblivion – but then you come crawling up from the ether and discover that yup, you’re still hanging on someone’s wall. And you can hear the muffled sounds of the room, although you can’t see anything. Music, laughter, screams, more music. Eventually I realized where I had heard that combination of sounds. Just another day at Jabba’s palace.

    People tend to forget you’re alive. I believe I was decorated a couple of times. I know someone was hanging something off my hands for a while. The ironic thing is that whatever Jabba paid for me as a wall ornament was probably way more than what I actually owed him. So I guess I’m worth more to him semi-dead than alive.

    Time is hard to judge. I have no idea how long I’ve been locked in this case.

    * * *​

    Award Name: Best Sleepwear (for Luke’s X-wing pyjama trousers)
    Author: Jedi_Lover
    Title: Breakfast on Yavin IV
    Nominated by: Annia Piet

    Mara is on a cargo run and has to hand deliver a package to Luke Skywalker on Yavin IV.
    “Of course it had to be a refrigerated item,” she mumbled under her breath. “That means I cant just drop it off at his door and head off. Noooo, I have to get him to open the door and that means he will have an opportunity to nag me about attending his academy.” She shook her head in disgust. Skywalker had become annoying with his, ‘You are not living up to your potential’ speeches.

    She arrived to his door and braced herself for the inevitable conversation. She knocked three times and waited, and waited. As she knocked again she started to worry that she might be interrupting something. Could Skywalker be dating somebody and they were both now frantically trying to get dressed? She was about to leave when the door cracked open. Luke Skywalker’s face blossomed into a bright smile upon seeing her. He opened the door fully allowing her entrance. “Mara, what an unexpected surprise. Come in.”

    A slight smile played on her lips as her eyes raked down his body. He was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt and sleep pants with a unique pattern on them. “Nice pajama bottoms.”

    Luke grinned with a blush as he looked down at his clothing. “Jacen and Jaina asked my sister to get them for me.”

    Mara chuckled at the sight of the Jedi Master wearing sleepwear with a print pattern of little X-Wings and Tie Fighters on them. “They’re cute.” She meant that to come out sarcastically but her words didn’t have their normal bite.

    Luke gave her a toothy grin, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Thanks. You are the first person to see me in them.”

    Mara gave a slight nod. That comment answered the question about the possibility of another person being in the apartment.

    * * *​

    Award Name: Punniest Character Name/Best Reference to a Central American Amphibian (for Axel Ottle)
    Author: Kahara
    Title: The Galactic Correspondent, from this entry
    Nominated by: Raissa Baiard

    Axel Ottle was a Star Wars universe TV show personality with a punny name created for the Galactic Correspondent thread.

    One of the qualities that make this show either addictive or annoying depending on your view is the playful attitude of the participants towards the reality element of reality holovision. Actor/business-being Axel Ottle has become known for his favorite catchphrase: “Not that door!” His realistic acting of sheer panic when the show’s teams stumble across supposedly secretive events behind the scenes is a work of art – although one that has begun to wear on some viewers.

    Appreciation Society member Hikrawas calls the Nemoidian’s antics “mind-numbing” and furthermore threatens to inflict bodily harm on the next individual who assumes that they share a species. Another of our guests who wishes to remain anonymous commented that the scene from last week where a “battle droid” – very cleverly constructed to resemble those from recent conspiracy theories of the Federation bringing an invasion force to the blockade of Naboo – wanders into the room (“Uh oh. Pardon me. Bye!”) is really not very amusing to those from nearby systems who have been affected by the restriction of the hyperspace lanes.

    * * *​

    Award Name: Wackiest Character Origin Theory
    Author: Lady_Misty
    Title: Was NOT Part of the Plan
    Nominated by: Findswoman

    Synopsis: Sidious rarely regrets his actions, past, present and his future actions, but when he saw a red haired Jedi Padawan in the Senate he found himself regretting not considering the future more fully during his stay on Stewjon. Now he watches his son from afar and wonders how things might have been like if he knew and if he can convert his son to the Dark Side.
    Ewok Poet likes this.
  3. Chyntuck

    Chyntuck Force Ghost star 5

    Jul 11, 2014
    Before – Best Alternate Universe

    Just Ask Dad; or, Talking Things Through on Taris by Findswoman

    The female KOTOR protagonist, who has just rescued Bastila Shan on Taris, is feeling discouraged by the Jedi’s haughty and ungrateful attitude.

    So this, I thought, is the Bastila Shan. This woman in the ridiculous little circus-suit thing, standing there with her hand on her hip trying to tell me I didn’t really rescue her. The famous, illustrious Bastila Shan who had escaped to Taris from the wreckage of the Endar Spire. The one Carth and I had been busting our behinds to find and rescue for the last five days.

    And this is how she talked to me during our entire walk back through the Upper City of Taris. I walked as fast as I could, trying not to look at her and her bouncy little side-curls. All the while my twin swords swung dangerously close to my and the other passerby’s thighs. To this day I have no idea why we didn’t spring the extra fifty credits for proper scabbards. Even just the cheap leatherette ones.

    By the time we arrived back at our makeshift headquarters in apartment twenty-three-besh of the South Apartments, my eyes were in tears. Carth, bless his heart, naturally had to place a hand on my shoulder in that gentle, gingerly way of his and ask, “What’s the matter?”

    I came very close to saying something like, “Oh, nothing, except that this precious Bastila you’ve been maundering on about is the Galaxy’s premier snot and I want to slap that porcelain-doll face of hers from here to the Unknown Regions. That, and you should shave. The 1700-hours-shadow look doesn’t suit you.” But I lacked the presence of mind and blew my nose instead.

    * * *​

    Getting to Know You by K'tai qel Letta-Tanku

    The Tal’shari are a Force tradition with a different view of the Force from the Jedi, which Obi-Wan and K’Tai are talking about in this message.

    Your talk about the Dark side confused me. You will have to explain what you mean by Light and Dark sides of the Force and why being attached makes it easier to use the Dark side, and why that is bad. We don't talk about the Force that way. When I use the Force, I touch Unity, but I wouldn't call it Light or Dark. It's both and neither at the same time. If you only touch the Light, how to you keep the harmony? Doesn't using just the Light unbalance the whole? As for your question, I can't answer it until I understand more about this. I think that the way we use the Force might be part of the answer, but I'm not sure. I do know that when I am angry, I don't have the control that I have when I am calm. It feels like I am trying to hold back a massive wave that will crush me in the end. We are taught from a very early age that is what happens. Anger leads to being devoured by Unity, while being centered allows one to serve Unity without being consumed by it. Does that make sense?

    And yes, I would very much like to take that walk in the garden and learn the kata. I still owe you lessons on the defensive technique too. How long do you think you will be able to stay?

    * * *​

    Attachment by LuvEwan
  4. Chyntuck

    Chyntuck Force Ghost star 5

    Jul 11, 2014
    Before – Best Canon

    Home by Admiral Volshe

    * * *​

    A Cold Day on the Pike by gaarastar58

    Set some time after the Jedi Civil War in KOTOR II.

    A stone slipped under his foot. He stumbled, almost losing his balance. His gasp of surprise billowed out in the cold air and was snatched away by the wind. How ironic it would be, he mused, if he fell to his death or tripped and broke his neck before the hunters who had arrived in their ship got to him. They would be so disappointed.

    Tok had covered his tracks well. The people on the ship were not the only ones who would kill him given the chance. He didn’t blame them for coming. He had earned this fate. He had grasped it on the battlefield, in the blood and smoke of war. The memory of who he had been haunted him in his dreams. Warrior. Killer. Murderer.

    Stepping out of the treeline, he inhaled the sweet scent of the trees. They always smelled good at this time of year, just before winter took hold. In a cruel way the Pike was beautiful. Perhaps that was what had drawn him here all those years ago. It was different from the palaces and fortresses where he had lived most of his life. Its majesty dwarfed even the deep canyons and jagged peaks of Korriban, where he had been raised.

    Walking to his cabin, he crouched down and stroked the grey back of his hound, Carak. ‘Did you miss me old friend?’

    The hound raised his great shaggy head towards Tok’s voice. For decades they had hunted side by side on the ridges of the Pike, but like Tok age had crept up on his faithful companion. He was blind now, his fur hanging in matted clumps from his once-powerful frame. Twitching his head, he yawned as Tok scratched behind his ears, and padded after his master into the cabin.

    * * *​

    A Taste of Rootleaf Stew by jcgoble3

    Fifteen-year-old Obi-Wan gets stuck on Jedi Temple kitchen duty, leading to a lesson from Yoda about respect for all living things and a practical joke for Qui-Gon's 50th birthday.

    The next order perplexed Obi-Wan: rootleaf stew. He didn't even know what that was or how to make it, so he called over one of the Knights working near him. “Oh, that's Master Yoda's favorite,” she said. The Twi'lek walked Obi-Wan through the steps for preparing it, which were more involved that he expected. Ten minutes later, it was done, and Obi-Wan glanced at the chrono on the wall to see that his shift was over. He decided to take the stew out to Yoda himself.

    Obi-Wan found the wizened Grand Master sitting at a table by himself. He sat the bowl of rootleaf stew down in front of Yoda and watched as Yoda took a bite. The fifteen-year-old human couldn't even understand how it was edible, yet Yoda seemed to be enjoying it.

    “Learn a lesson today, did you?” Yoda asked between bites.

    The young apprentice decided to be honest. “Actually, Master, no I didn't. I still don't understand what I did wrong in the first place.”

    Yoda put his spoon down and looked Obi-Wan in the eye. “Part of his species' religion, the necklace is. Considered very beautiful to the Droatans, such a piece is. On their planet, blasphemy it is to say otherwise. Death, the penalty is on Droata.” Yoda poked Obi-Wan in the leg with his gimer stick for emphasis with each of those last two points.

    “But we're not on Droata. Shouldn't he have to get used to the fact that other beings may not think the same?”

    “Matters not, that does,” Yoda said in a stern voice. “Disgusted by my food, you are, I can see. Different to what you did, how?”
  5. Chyntuck

    Chyntuck Force Ghost star 5

    Jul 11, 2014
    Before – Best All-Around

    Home by Admiral Volshe

    * * *​

    Guard Duty by ardavenport

    A very young Obi-Wan goes looking for his Master in the Jedi Temple.

    A shadow crossed the floor in front of him.

    Gasping Obi-Wan, whirled about.

    One of the guards loomed over him, facemask tilted downward, dark eye slits looking right at him. The guard pointed toward the still open door and the darkened chamber beyond.

    Not quite understanding, Obi-Wan just stared up at him.

    More than twice his height, the guard gestured and pointed again, moving to herd him into the room. Reluctantly, he went.

    Not only had he failed to find his Master, he was now being told to go into a place that he knew he wasn't allowed into, which meant that he probably hadn't been allowed outside in the corridor in the first place. He had only compounded his first error, getting injured in training, with being caught where he wasn't supposed to be. Belatedly, Obi-Wan wondered why had not just used the com. If Qui-Gon was unavailable, he could have left a message and gone to his room to wait there. He had wanted to tell Qui-Gon in person what happened, but now leaving a message seemed to have been the preferable option.

    * * *​

    A Cold Day on the Pike by gaarastar58

    Set some time after the Jedi Civil War in KOTOR II.

    Tok’s home was simple, sparsely furnished with rough tables and chairs cobbled together from the stunted trees which grew on the Pike. He swung the pack from his shoulders, wincing at the stiffness in his back. He stretched, reaching up to brush the low ceiling with his fingertips. Despite his age he was still lithe and strong, like an old timber wolf. Years of living in a harsh environment had hardened his bones. In his youth he had trained hard, pushing his body to the limits of its endurance, and his excellent physical conditioning had served him well in his new habitat.

    Picking up the pack he removed the herbs and roots he had been gathering and placed them carefully away. It had taken him a long time to learn how to add the herbs to his basic cooking to improve the flavour of a wild rasku, which was not a tasty meat at the best of times. Twice a year he made the decent to the small town in the valley for supplies. The people knew nothing of his past. To them he was simple Tok, the old man living high up on the Pike, who kept himself to himself.

    He turned and looked at the only piece of furniture that seemed out of place in the hovel of a mountain hunter. The battered plasteel chest sat hunched in the corner, daring him to open it and let the memories out. Tok had worked hard to shut them away, just as he had shut the chest all those years ago in a feeble attempt to forget the man he had been. He laid a hand on the metal lid, feeling the darkness within straining to be let loose. Taking a deep breath, he opened the lid.

    Heaped inside were the scarred and pitted plates of his battle armour and the tattered remains of his robes. He had worn them as he brought fire and death to a hundred worlds. Lying on top of the bundle, his lightsaber shone in the dull light.

    He picked it up, feeling the cool metal beneath his skin. Despite the arthritis gnarling his fingers the weapon still fitted his hand, as though it belonged there. Thumbing the activation switch he ignited the blade. A shaft of energy leapt up, filling the cabin with an eerie red glow, as if all the blood from his victims had stained the crystal at its core. Carak growled, adding his voice to the drone of the blade.

    ‘It’s alright boy.’ Tok shut the blade off and scratched his friend behind the ears. Carak craned his head back, enjoying the attention. Tok bowed his head, holding the lightsaber loosely at his side. He had heard them again. The voices. So many voices. All of them screaming. Many times he had taken the weapon to the edge of a cliff and made up his mind to cast it into the deep chasms beneath the unclimbable south face of the Pike, but always he returned it to its home in the chest, unable to part with it. He had been little more than a boy when he had built the weapon and it had been in his hand for every battle, every victory and every defeat. It was a part of him.

    He wanted to shut the lightsaber back in the chest, but he could sense the presence of the approaching hunters and instead clipped it to his belt.

    * * *​

    Sword of the Night Sky by gaarastar58

    Sword of the Night Sky is set around thirty years after the events in KOTOR 2. Young Mandalorian Fionn Katarm has been raised at the Jedi Temple and in this chapter is taking part in the Apprentice Tournament (lightsabers are on a non-lethal setting but still pack a punch!)

    Fionn leapt forward and swung for Talena’s lightsaber hand, but even he wasn’t quick enough. Once more blue and yellow sparks flew as they engaged each other, while Ryon lay groaning at their feet. The two blades screeched as they locked and a test of strength began.

    ‘Why don’t you just give up, baby?’ puffed Talena.

    ‘Stop…calling…me…BABY!’ shouted Fionn, putting all his weight into the lock. Abruptly the pressure was relieved as the slim Echani slid her lightsaber back and down, and he felt himself falling forwards. He crashed face-first onto the platform and cried out in pain as Talena seized his arm and forced it into a savage wrist lock, twisting it up behind his back.

    ‘Baby, baby, baby,’ she hissed in his ear. ‘Mandalorian scum like you should never have been let into the order. You’ll never be a proper Jedi and you know it!’ Keeping his arm locked, she dug her lightsaber hilt into his neck, applying pressure. Fionn’s vision swam, and he began to black out.

    Not a proper Jedi!

    He didn’t mean for it to happen, but the rage which had been building inside his heart for years broke open. Anger at being despised by his peers and even at times his masters, anger at being passed over again and again by masters looking for new Padawans, anger at having to wear stupid blue robes, anger at his father for dying and leaving him all alone. The fury which Jedi teachings kept in check exploded inside Fionn.

    With savage cry he forced himself to his knees. Surprised at the sudden surge of defiance, Talena tightened her grip on his neck and arm. Fionn wrenched himself away, grabbing a fistful of hair and pulling her to the ground. His lightsaber lay close by, forgotten, as he smashed his fist into Talena’s smug face. A blossom of blood trickled down her chin.

    Even caught by surprise, Talena was still a tough opponent. Using a leg to push Fionn away she snatched up her lightsaber, turning to face him once more. She threw a hand in his direction, trying to use the force to shove him away but it had no effect on him. Fionn’s second attack was even more ferocious than the first. He could feel his blood boiling, surging through his veins. After so many years of sitting patiently, being a good little Jedi, his Mandalorian blood screamed. He batted aside the lightsaber with a fist, not even noticing the pain, and smashed another punch into Talena’s face. She dropped the weapon, which tumbled out of sight. With a final vicious shove he sent her careening backwards, off the edge, to the net below.

    A movement in the corner of his vision caught his attention. Ryon had scooped up his dropped lightsaber and was moving closer.

    Ne shab'rud'ni!’ he shouted. He didn’t want to attack the boy, but the red fire surging though his body acted before he knew what he was doing, springing forward and landing a murderous blow to the side of Ryon’s head, which snapped backwards and hit the platform with a sickening crunch. Fionn descended on the boy like a mountain, hammering both fists into his face. He continued raining blows down on Ryon, shrieking incoherently in Basic and Mandalorian until his hands were wet with blood.

    * * *​

    Schism by Jedi_Perigrine

    Jedi Knight Pelt Qar couldn’t have been any more surprised—or horrified—by the way things had turned out. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He actually could have been crying, but his shock was such that he wouldn’t have realized it. One of the most promising students Pelt had ever met was going to be shipped away from the Jedi forever, never being able to meet his true potential. All because Pelt had to fulfill his bargain with Master Yoda. But if he ignored the Master’s orders, Naan wouldn’t be able to reach his potential, either. He, like Pelt, would become a glorified librarian.

    Pelt glanced up into the proud face of young Chudo, and then literally had to stand and study the stage to find Hilaal. After a closer look, he caught a slightly better view of the skinny girl as she hid behind a pillar, practically off the stage.

    He met the smiling young man’s eyes and locked on, hoping the moisture he suddenly felt really wasn’t a tear dripping down his face. He spoke in as loud of a voice as he could. “It is my deepest regret that one of these students must be left behind. Both are extremely promising candidates who would have had a lifetime of success with the Jedi order.” That was quite possibly the biggest lie he had ever told. Each step towards the stage felt like another lightsaber through the heart.

    He dropped a big, heavy hand onto the boy’s shoulder, whispering, “I’m sorry, Naan, I’m so very sorry.”

    The boy’s shock was palpable, almost sending Pelt to his knees. From somewhere deep inside himself, he found the strength to pass Naan by and to stand in front of Hilaal. He couldn’t even bring himself to touch her. He pitched his voice as loudly as he was able. “I choose Hilaal Yuchee as my Padawan learner.”

    Pelt thought he was going to have to catch her eyes as they went shooting out of their sockets. He knew exactly how she felt. But in her wide eyes, Pelt saw something there that tugged at his heartstrings. Maybe it was just her hope, finally bubbling to the surface, but he thought it was something deeper, something he couldn’t identify.

    At his meekest moment, the crowd thought him to be the most arrogant sort of man the galaxy had to offer. He wanted to vomit, or kill himself. Pelt sensed, rather than saw or heard Naan Chudo as he ran off the stage. It was all he could do not to leave this girl whose jaw had dropped below her knees behind and chase after the boy.

    “Come, young one," Pelt told the young girl. "Together, we have much to learn.”

    Such was his distress that he could only sigh as she fainted dead away, much to the amplified amusement of the crowd around him. He gathered the slender girl into his arms and carried her out of the stadium, doing his best to ignore the onlookers, some of whom had dissolved into amused tears. Pelt felt sorry for the girl, and he felt sorrow for himself; horrible as it was, he was hard pressed to admit which one of them he felt worse for.

    * * *​

    Getting to Know You by K'tai qel Letta-Tanku

    The matriarchal society of the M’Ban plays an important role in the development of the relationship between Obi-Wan and K’Tai, sometimes coming perilously close to keeping them from communicating.

    Obi, the Council of Elders hasn't nullified a betrothal in centuries. It would be a political nightmare that would almost certainly spark significant unrest if not outright civil war because of the shame it would bring on Clan Letta. Bus'cai was all polite in the chamber but when we got home she was seething. I have never seen her so angry before. She was muttering about unknown matriarchs and the disgrace of having her judgment questioned. The thing is, the only person at this point who is upset about me not marrying Donal is Bus'cai. De'vona and Donal are willing to weather whatever bad publicity might arise, and at this point, I don't think there would be much if any. The people of Kress have come to see them as a couple. The only ones who will have their nose out of joint are the hard-line traditionalists who will go along with it if the betrothal is honorably broken through the recognized reasons. I tried to get her to see this, tell her that we could find a plausible story that would keep the Clan's honor intact and get me out of this mess. I suggested that we use the events on Unagin to justify sending me for a prolonged period of training at the Jedi Temple. I would be unable to fulfill my duties as Donal's consort, and the betrothal could be transferred to De'vona. Bus'cai launched into a tirade about outside influences on my development and forbade me, outright forbade me, to continue to keep in contact with you, even though the Council has explicitly told me to stay in contact with you. I pleaded with her to let me send you one more note to thank you for coming to the ceremony, and she agreed, but only because sending a thank you note was called for by diplomatic protocol. I hope that you figured out there was something going on and that I was going to try to get another message to you. Thank Unity that my mother only knows the rudimentary katas that every Tal'shari learns, or I wouldn't have been able to give you a hint.

    After I recorded that message and Bus'cai saw that it was safely on its way, I went to Kur-Cot and Jen'sai, and told them what had happened. The Force is practically screaming at me to defy Bus'cai's wishes in this. I can't ignore that. The Council of Elders minus my mother agrees. So do me a favor. From now on send the messages directly to Kur-Cot. He will make sure I get them and that Bus'cai doesn't get wind of it. Force help Clan Tanku and Clan Fromen if she does. Kur-Cot would probably be ok, but Jen'sai would never hear the end of it. I think Bus'cai took it personally when Jen'sai aligned with their paternal grandmother's clan rather than Clan Letta. Never-mind that we are allowed to choose, and the youngest daughter traditionally decides to align with the paternal clan, especially if she has many sisters. Jen'sai was never going to have status in Clan Letta, but as the daughter of the eldest son, she is second in matriarchal succession behind my great-aunt in Clan Fromen since my great-aunt was only blessed with sons. I wouldn't put it past my mother at this point to make trouble for Jen'sai among the clans just because she can. I have no idea what has gotten into her.

    * * *​

    Epiphany by leiamoody

    Zia Amopharis is a waitress and former padawan who meets Chevor Mikayzd, a current padawan, when he walks into the diner where she works.

    “So you’ve got a lot of trouble bubbling there around your head.” She reached across and tapped his forehead. “Right in there you’ve got a lot of bad stuff keeping you awake.”

    Chevor shrugged. “I guess that’s obvious since I’m here instead of where I should be.”

    “You mean up there in the Temple District?”

    His expression remained frozen in a half-smile. “Up somewhere around there.” The intrusion of a cursory Force inspection alerted Chevor this stranger wasn’t an ordinary waitress. He felt a sudden realignment of midichlorians as Zia made a clumsy attempt to scan his emotions. Either she was a Force sensitive undiscovered by the Jedi, or else…

    “I used to live up there back when I was a lot younger.” Zia smiled. “Of course not everyone becomes a Knight. That was never my destiny.”

    Chevor looked into the cold blackness of the remaining caf. There were padawans who never passed the Trials. For every ten initiates who passed the five levels of physical and mental endurance there were four who failed. Their choices were limited to undergoing the Trials until they passed, joining a lesser organization such as the Exploration Corps, or leaving the Jedi Order and falling into the struggles of daily life. Going out into the galaxy alone was more terrifying than any temptation from the Dark Side. Stories were passed around like a forbidden artifact among the older padawans about those unfortunate souls, dubbed “The Lost Souls”, included a bounty hunter employed by Azra the Hutt and a serial killer. Most of the stories were ridiculous, but they provided a cautionary lesson in the importance of passing the Trials sooner instead of later.

    * * *​

    Nar Shaddaa: Noir #1 - Blush Response by metophlus
  6. Chyntuck

    Chyntuck Force Ghost star 5

    Jul 11, 2014
    Before – Best Character

    Qui-Gon Jinn in Guard Duty by ardavenport

    A very young Obi-Wan goes looking for his Master in the Jedi Temple.

    Qui-Gon noticed him staring.

    "Would you like a demonstration?"

    Sitting up straight, he nodded.

    Smiling, Qui-Gon took up a position in the center of the room. Head high, he closed his eyes, the saber held vertically with both hands. Obi-Wan dutifully noted all of the important points of his stance, feet spaced one foot-length apart, shoulders level and relaxed.

    Eyes opening, Qui-Gon lunged forward, simultaneously whipping the saber parallel with the floor in one hand, activating it. The blades hissed alive for both ends of the double hilt; they were yellow, a very uncommon color. Drawing back, his Master twirled the blades in front, to the sides, back, turning around. The double blades only stopped whirling when Qui-Gon stabbed and reversed on imaginary opponents, the deadly hum rising and falling with each move.

    Finally, he ended with the hilt parallel to the floor again, the yellow blades vanishing. Again, he closed his eyes and Obi-Wan waited for him to release the Force.

    Opening his eyes, he nodded to his small apprentice. "Has that satisfied your curiosity?"

    "Yes, Master." He nodded eagerly and held his hand out, his uninjured arm, toward the weapon, silently asking permission. They sometimes held Qui-Gon lightsaber together during training, the older Jedi guiding his motions to show him the weight and feel of it for when he was old enough to build his own.

    His Master's brows rose.

    "By your own admission, you currently only have one unimpeded hand due to carelessly over-estimating your abilities." Qui-Gon did not actually say 'no', but the answer was clear. Now shamed that he had asked, he dropped his arm.

    * * *​

    Stanislauff Rzewanczkowski in Just Ask Dad; or, Talking Things Through on Taris by Findswoman

    The female KOTOR protagonist comms her dad, the stolid and blue-collar Stanislauff “Stann” Rzewanczkowski, for advice on how to deal with Bastila.

    I went in, shut the door, locked it, and did what the younger version of me always used to do when the going got rough.

    I commed my dad.

    And what good would that do, you ask? Well, let me tell you a little about my dad. Stanislauff “Stann” Rzewanczkowski. Retired Aratech foreman, devoted husband and father, uncannily canny pazaak player, appreciator of fine Corellian ales, etc., etc. A bastion of no-nonsense practicality, always there with a helpful word of advice to his loved ones. Even if it was nothing more than “Just be yourself, darlin’.”

    I entered his frequency, and after a few moments the comm crackled to life with an image of his heavyset, coverall-clad form.

    “How ya doin’, princess?” (This is where I mention that my father is the only one in the entire Galaxy—and I mean the only one—who is authorized to call me that.)

    “All right, I guess, Dad. How about you?”

    “Can’t complain, can’t complain. Now I know you got something on your mind, don’tcha, doll, or you wouldn’t be callin’ me out of the blue like this, would ya?”

    “Well, yeah.” Taking a deep breath, I launched into the whole crazy story of how I’d escaped from the Endar Spire, ended up on Taris with Carth, braved not one but two angry swoop gangs, ran around the Undercity like a Coruscant game fowl with its head cut off to find that prototype swoop accelerator, and won that accursed swoop race just to save that Jedi prima donna’s implausibly perky rear end from the Vulkars. Only so she could lord it over Carth and me like some kind of mahvelous Hutt queen.

    * * *​

    Tok/Darth Cozus in A Cold Day on the Pike by gaarastar58

    Set some time after the Jedi Civil War in KOTOR II.

    Heaped inside the chest were the scarred and pitted plates of his battle armour and the tattered remains of his robes. He had worn them as he brought fire and death to a hundred worlds. Lying on top of the bundle, his lightsaber shone in the dull light.

    He picked it up, feeling the cool metal beneath his skin. Despite the arthritis gnarling his fingers the weapon still fitted his hand, as though it belonged there. Thumbing the activation switch he ignited the blade. A shaft of energy leapt up, filling the cabin with an eerie red glow, as if all the blood from his victims had stained the crystal at its core. Carak growled, adding his voice to the drone of the blade.

    ‘It’s alright boy.’ Tok shut the blade off and scratched his friend behind the ears. Carak craned his head back, enjoying the attention. Tok bowed his head, holding the lightsaber loosely at his side. He had heard them again. The voices. So many voices. All of them screaming. Many times he had taken the weapon to the edge of a cliff and made up his mind to cast it into the deep chasms beneath the unclimbable south face of the Pike, but always he returned it to its home in the chest, unable to part with it. He had been little more than a boy when he had built the weapon and it had been in his hand for every battle, every victory and every defeat. It was a part of him.

    He wanted to shut the lightsaber back in the chest, but he could sense the presence of the approaching hunters and instead clipped it to his belt.

    * * *​

    Zia Amopharis in Epiphany by leiamoody

    Zia Amopharis talks about failing her Trials of Knighthood with Chevor Mikayzd, and her viewpoint on obedience to the Jedi Order.

    “How did you fail?”

    “The first time it was the Trial of Spirit. Second time it was the Trial of Skill because I was so nervous about failing again. The last time I finally made it to the Trial of Insight. I almost believed it was going to work.”

    “So what happened?”

    “Master Okari decided my final test would be the most absurd one ever created. Have you heard of the ‘Sand and Stone’ test?”


    “The padawan is supposed to find a single grain of sand among a room filled with stones. It was some weird ritual used back during the Pius Dea Era. My dear old master decided to get rid of me by pulling out that ancient ordeal.”

    “The Jedi seek victory in the Force’s name. They wouldn’t have sought your failure.”

    Zia scowled. “Think about how stagnant matters in the galaxy have become since the Battle of Ruusan. There are skirmishes here and there but those don’t generally require the Jedi’s intervention. So that beloved order has become isolated from the real world. So they feel it’s necessary to come up with convoluted methods to challenge their students.”

    “Even if that happens to be true, how does that affect my upcoming tests?”

    “Think about who you might become if you do pass those ordeals.”

    “I want to become whoever the Force wishes me to become.” Chevor pushed the remains of his partially consumed meal aside, then leaned his elbows on the table. “The learning process is not supposed to be easy. Each test will bring forth different aspects of my personality that should work together in harmony.”

    “You swallowed their drivel so perfectly you’ll become a walking textbook.”
  7. Chyntuck

    Chyntuck Force Ghost star 5

    Jul 11, 2014
    Before – Best Relationship

    Katts Rzewanczkowski/female Revan and Stanislauff Rzewanczkowski in Just Ask Dad; or, Talking Things Through on Taris by Findswoman

    During her comm call to her dad, the female KOTOR protagonist hears Bastila and Carth arguing in the next room, which brings her close to panic. Her dad reassures her and offers some helpful advice.

    “Oh Force, Dad, now she and Carth are arguing about who’s in charge of the mission and I just can’t take it anymore, I JUST CAN’T—”

    “Hey, hey, hey now, precious. It’s gonna be all right. Look, ya just gotta go in there and tell her who’s boss.”

    “Okay, but—but now she’s going on about how she’s a member of the Jedi Order! How do I know she’s not the boss?”

    “Well, if she’s standin’ there bickerin’ with yer soldier friend instead o’ comin’ up with a proper plan to get you all off that Force-forsaken ball o’ rock, then she’s not showin’ much of what they call leadership ability, is she? Go right up to her an’ tell her that!”

    I took another deep breath and composed myself. “Okay, Dad. You’re right. I’m going to go in there and tell her exactly what you said. I shall say, ‘You aren’t showing much leadership ability right now, Bastila.’”

    “That’s my brave girl.” The image of the square, wizened face beamed. “Spoken like a true Rzewanczkowski.”

    “Thanks, Dad.” I smiled too, because for some reason that felt like a really big compliment coming from him.

    “And if that don’t work, then just choke her or somethin’.”

    Choke her?!” Force, this again? “Dad, what are you talking about?!”

    “Remember that time Phyleena McSpoons was talkin’ smack about your Winter Formal gown, and you—”


    “Sorry, darlin’, sorry. Now look, I gotta go, but you take care o’ yourself, y’hear?”

    * * *​

    K'tai qel Letta-Tanku and Obi-Wan Kenobi in Getting to Know You by K'tai qel Letta-Tanku – Excerpt from the epilogue

    After developing a close friendship with Obi-Wan and raising the eyebrows of their respective Councils, K’Tai is sent to Coruscant to train with the Jedi.

    Passengers disembarked. Obi-Wan scanned the crowd for her, hard to do because of her height. He found Kur-Cot, K'Tai by his side. The two Tal'shari made their way slowly through the crowd to the Jedi. They stopped and extended their hands, palms up. The three Jedi bowed in return.

    "Greetings Master Jinn, Knight Kaden, and Padawan Kenobi. It is good to see you all again," Kur-Cot said.

    "Welcome Coruscant," Qui-Gon replied. Before he could say anything else, K'Tai moved forward and enveloped Obi-Wan in a hug. Obi-Wan's eyes went wide with surprise, but he found himself hugging her back as if it was the most natural thing for a Jedi to do. T'lor and Kur-Cot chuckled as K'Tai was obviously relishing both the contact and Obi-Wan's unease. Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow and cleared his throat. "Um, K'Tai..."

    K'Tai let go of Obi-Wan, beaming from ear to ear. "I know, I know. Completely inappropriate behavior for the Temple, which is why I got it out of my system here. I won't do it again, at least not in a gigantic public display." She giggled a little. "I promise to work on developing the appropriate Jedi reserve." She turned her attention back to Obi-Wan. "I'm just really glad to see you."

    "I'm glad to see you too." Obi-Wan smiled at her, blue eyes electric with genuine feeling. "It has been a long time, and we have some catching up to do." He felt himself reaching for her hand and quickly folded his arms into his sleeves. Qui-Gon was going to have him doing extra meditation on the importance of discipline and self-control if he wasn't careful.

    * * *​

    Bastila Shan and Meetra Surik in Bastila Shan - An Autobiography by metophlus
  8. Chyntuck

    Chyntuck Force Ghost star 5

    Jul 11, 2014
    Before – Best Author

    ardavenport – Excerpt from Justice

    The Jedi bring justice to a prisoner.

    "Uuunnaaaahh!" Air rushed into his lungs. It was arctic cold and hurt.

    "Don't move, Obi-Wan." Something warm and soft pressed down on his forehead.

    "Eeh Aaahser." His mouth was numb.

    Blinking his eyes open, Obi-Wan saw red light flashing on the ceiling.


    An alarm blared from outside. The room door was open. There were guard droids beyond it. And someone was laughing. High and loud, the sound hysterically bounced around the room under the claxons.

    "Shut! Up!"

    The giggling continued, unimpaired by the Sub-Warden's command.

    Breathing deep into his warming body, Obi-Wan looked up under his Master's chin. His head lay in Qui-Gon's lap. His body tingled with needles all over his skin, under his clothes and even in his hair. The Force felt far away from him, blocked by the fading stun effect. Except where his Master's hand lay on his forehead. New strength and the Force spread down into him from there and he breathed it in deeply. The needles receded, becoming soft and blunt.

    Something crashed. Turning his head, he saw the Sub-Warden scowling at the floor and two other humanoid guards cringing.

    "Oh, Seelim, get a container for these and take them to the med-center," the Sub-Warden shouted at her subordinates.

    "I am sorry, Sir." A shiny black medical droid raised its torso and spindly appendages up to address the Sub-Warden. "But with plasma cuts this severe, these limbs cannot be effectively re-attached. Cybernetics would be far more suitable for replacements."

    "Yes, yes, yes! But we need to get them out of here! And these!" The sub warden kicked a heavy metalloid torso away from the pieces of at least two guard droids on the floor. Obi-Wan saw Limra Josna's gray-coveralled body under the medical droid, her face turned away. But what he was seeing did not make sense until he realized that it was Limra Josna's legs that could not be re-attached. Singed blood and flesh mixed with the burnt plastoid haze in the air. The medical droid rapid beeped to a lifter that extended grasping arms to lift the woman's torso onto its pallet.

    "Shut up!"

    Between two un-dismembered guard droids, back to the wall and with his arms confined behind him, Grosmot Keerd continued laughing. Tears leaked down his cheeks. He looked as if he had not laughed in years and was trying to catch up.

    "And turn off that noise! Send a report to the head warden. Right now!" The Sub-Warden's subordinates hurried from the room and the alarm at least obeyed her and fell silent a moment later though the red light continued flashing. She kicked more droid wreckage away and marched over to glare down at the two Jedi.

    "Was that necessary, Jedi?"

    "Of course it was necessary!" Keerd shouted from the other side of the room. "That lying she-deech got what she deserved! Do you hear that, Josna?! Ha-ha-ha!" The older prisoner looked a little insane, but maniacally happy. Josna Limra did not move or react. Presumably the droid had sedated her when it applied the pressure coverings over her stumps.

    "Take him out of here! Lock him up in his cell!" The droids clamped onto his arms and started to drag him out.

    "I was right about you, Jedi! You brought me justice after all! Ha-ha-ha-ha!" Keerd called out from the hallway. The medical droid and the lifter left with the injured woman.

    * * *​

    Findswoman – Excerpt from A Lesson under the Arboray Trees?

    Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Siri Tachi are on a mission on a banal Outer Rim planet, where a young companion of theirs has inconveniently gone missing.

    Obi-Wan Kenobi was annoyed, frustrated, and worried. More so, he suspected, than was considered proper for a Jedi.

    It was bad enough that Master Jinn had dragged him along on this tiresome diplomatic (or some such; Obi-Wan wasn’t quite sure) mission to the Outer Rim planet of Mayno-Mayzee. At least they had been able to wrangle Master Gallia to let Siri Tachi join them, which had been no small diplomatic triumph in and of itself. But between the endless, boring committee meetings and nonstop appointments with planetary dignitaries, Obi-Wan had barely had any time to talk to his friend and fellow padawan. Nor did it help that Master Jinn was constantly coming up with various trifling errands on which to send both of them—separately from each other. Always, of course, while smiling and winking in his characteristic enigmatic way.

    In any case, the entire situation was infuriating enough without the girl going missing.

    For that is exactly what had happened. The girl, the little black-haired girl they had found three days ago crying in an alley, was not in the unused office suite that the committee had given them to serve as their base of operations. About six or seven Standard years old, Human-looking but with pointed ears that peeked through her straight, smooth hair, she had spent the last three days jabbering at them in a language Obi-Wan had never heard before—and the off-brand protocol droid the committee had lent them hadn’t been much help. It was only from the odd interspersed word or phrase of broken Basic that they were able to learn that she had gotten separated from her parents. (Indeed, from the intense worry pulsing through her Force signature, they had figured it must be something like that.)

    Each day since the three Jedi found her, she would wait in the office suite for them to finish their negotiations, after which they would all partake of a light supper. Siri had even left the girl her datapad and a Cerean puzzle cube to keep her occupied. But now all that was there, amid a flurry of Stikk-Itt notes, Wite-A-Way strips, half-exhausted color styluses, and sketched-on flimsi sheets, was the puzzle cube.

    Needless to say, this worried Obi-Wan. He had been specifically assigned by Master Jinn to keep an eye on the girl that afternoon. If she got lost on his watch, he was the one who would eventually end up sentenced to a session of what was known in padawan circles as “intensive topato meditation” in the Jedi Temple kitchens. (Though Obi-Wan had to admit it was rather fun to Force-ricochet the topatoes off each other in midair. He had done so many a time before.)

    * * *​

    K'tai qel Letta-Tanku – Excerpt from Interludes

    Interludes describes the times in Getting to Know You where Obi-Wan and K’Tai are physically in the same place, starting with how Obi-Wan came to be in the House of Healing under K’Tai’s care in the first place.


    "Yes Padawan?" Qui-Gon quickly glanced over at his protégé. The young man was climbing ahead of him, his focus on finding the next hand-hold on the rock face.

    Obi-Wan paused a moment, drawing in a breath and pushing off the rock face as he simultaneously reached for the next hold above him. Catching it with his fingertips, he planted his feet against the cliff. "How is it that when we go on holiday, we still end up working?" The teen pulled himself up, toes finding purchase on a small ledge.

    Qui-Gon chuckled under his breath. "I assume you refer to our little escapade in the market this morning and not our present circumstances."

    "I was actually referring to both, but we can start with the market place." His muscles were starting to burn with the exertion of climbing. "After the chase we gave this morning, I thought something a bit less taxing might be on the agenda for this afternoon."

    "I thought you wanted to see the Vespian Moon Flower."

    "I do."

    "Then quit talking and climb." Qui-Gon stretched for his next hold. "And the answer to your question is the Force works in mysterious ways." He felt his padawan's raised eyebrow in response. He didn't dare look at it just then, as he needed to focus entirely on the rock in front of him.

    They were climbing almost free-hand. There were occasions when climbing this high completely free-hand was necessary. Today was not one of them, and Qui-Gon had insisted that they take the extra precaution of using their grappling guns as a back-up. Tied to their belts, they provided a small but not insignificant margin of protection against losing a hand hold, particularly since the cliff was pocked with areas of what looked like solid rock that crumbled under the pressure of a body hanging from it.

    Qui-Gon felt the flare of danger in the Force just before Obi-Wan's hand slipped as the hold he had been using gave way. "Padawan!"

    For his part, Obi-Wan did not panic at the sudden sensation of plummeting to the ground. He had the good presence of mind to kick away as soon as he felt the hold go, so he was clear of the cliff face. After a moment the line in his grappling gun pulled taut and his decent stopped abruptly. That was close, he thought. Another flare of danger in the Force caused him to look up. The sudden weight on the grappling hook caused its hold to crumble. His grappling hook pulled free from its purchase, and he was truly falling.

    Icy fear ran up his spine as he processed what this meant. Shoving the feeling away, he flipped himself so at least he could see the ground rushing up to meet him. They had been over 50 meters up. He watched the vegetation that clung stubbornly to the cliff wall flit past him. As he closed in on the ground, he exerted a Force push, trying to counter his downward momentum. He could feel Qui-Gon reaching out to try to slow him as well. It worked to a point. He slowed enough that he was sure he wasn't going to die upon impact, but not enough to keep from injuring himself. This is going to hurt.

    * * *​

    leiamoody – Excerpt from Another Reality

    The Whills character known as Nellith Kaido talks about the structure and nature of life and death in the GFFA.

    There is life, and there is death. The balance has always existed since the universes were first knitted together into the Great Tapestry. When the Overseers first created our small corner of the celestial tapestry (for we are indeed only minute threads interwoven as one in the fabric of space-time), they realized creatures who existed in this space we call a “galaxy” could not be immortal like themselves. The Overseers were, are, and shall continue to be undying (unless they descend into the mortal realm like those beings on Mortis awaiting the arrival of the Chosen One; the Father and his children have existed for millennia but will shed their physical forms and return to the Otherworld after the fulfillment of their mission).

    Yet life is not only the Living World, and death is not only the Afterlife. The Force is not merely the Living and Cosmic aspects, or the Light and Dark Sides of a balance that pervades daily existence. Life after life is composed of the Cosmic aspect, often paired with the Unifying Force which brings together the Living and Cosmic aspects yet also functions as a boundary to keep the Two Worlds separated.

    There is a cycle that every creature undergoes, from one span of time to another, across years/decades/centuries/millennia. There is a rotation not only between life and death, but also a movement from one life to a period of death followed by another life and then another space between lifetimes, until the one soul which unites each lifetime finally chooses to stop going through the cycle and fully become part of the Afterlife. Souls are created at its very heart, emanated and descended from the higher levels, reunited in the lowest realm, then finally ascend into the highest level and presented with two choices: become part of The Oneness (where all souls are created and will ultimately return), or to remain physically disembodied yet spiritually intact. Many beings will remain in this latter state for an indeterminate period, watching over their loved ones until those respective lifetimes are completed and they decide to join them in new bodies with new identities and suppressed memories of their previous lifetimes.
  9. Chyntuck

    Chyntuck Force Ghost star 5

    Jul 11, 2014
    Saga – Best Alternate Universe

    She Shall Rise Again by Admiral Volshe

    * * *​

    Attack of the Clones Alternate Ending by Admiral Volshe, Chyntuck, Darth_Furio, Goodwood and Satine Naberrie -- Excerpt from chapter 3

    That old fear, which he had carried from his youngest days, was still there but muted, as though trying to make itself heard over a loud and boisterous cantina scene; it tried to renew its grasp, but could find no purchase upon his heart.

    "Yes, let it go," a soft, familiar voice floated into his mind, a voice Anakin hadn't heard for ten years. "There is no emotion, there is peace."

    The first tenet of the Jedi Code. He learned it so long ago. But only now did Anakin begin to fully appreciate it as more than mere words. The field that spun him around brought his eyes upon a shadowy spot, where a glowing phantasm of the one who found him on Tatooine appeared. "Qui-Gon?" Anakin asked. " died."

    "I did," the ghost replied smoothly, as though commenting on the weather. "But in so doing, I have been able to watch you as no one alive could. You made mistakes, some of them rather brutal. But in the end, you have chosen rightly."

    "But I couldn't save—"

    The ghost held up a hand to forestall his reply. "Your mother knows this, Anakin. I was with her, hoping to keep her alive long enough for you to rescue her, but it was not enough. She knew of your turmoil because I told her of it, but she forgives you. She wants you to know that it wasn't your fault. As for Padmé..."

    As though a switch had been flipped, the cage deactivated and Anakin was deposited on the dusty floor.

    "The Force has taught me many things," Qui-Gon's spirit continued, "but only now do I realize the strength of love unspoiled by passion. Clear your heart for the fight to come, Anakin Skywalker, and you may yet save her—and yourself."

    * * *​

    What History Will Say of Us by AngelQueen

    He bows to her, all courtesy like a knight bidding farewell to his lady, before turning on his heel and striding out of the room. The door hisses shut behind him and she is alone. 

    “That was unwise.” 

    She doesn't turn to face Obi-Wan, but then, she doesn't need to. They've had this discussion before. “Which part?” she asks, mockingly irreverent. “Letting him go wreck havoc and murder the Hutts?” 

    Obi-Wan doesn't share her amusement of the situation. “Letting him touch you,” he replies. “You know how easily he can harm you, Padmé.” 

    Oh, she does know. She has never forgotten how it felt to have invisible hands squeeze her throat, cutting off her ability to breathe. She has never forgotten the bewilderment, the panic that jolted her children into rolling in her womb in frantic protest. 

    Still, she plays this game with him because she must. She has been able to bring him back under control. 

    “You shouldn't be here,” she says, changing the subject. It’s true. Obi-Wan is meant to be on Naboo, guarding her children. She had sent them there to protect them, and to protect herself. There is no room for sentiment or weakness in this world. She doesn't dare present her love for her son and daughter to the world for her enemies to exploit, so she sent them away, to Naboo, where things are still clean and pure and beautiful. She sent Obi-Wan with them because of all of them, he’s the only one still in possession of his soul. Her husband sold his to keep her tied to him, and she sold hers to manage this mess that they've created.

    * * *​

    Emerging from Shadows by Cushing's Admirer

    * * *​

    Sins of the Fathers by DarthIshtar

    Leia discovers that Bail was captured by Vader. This scene ensues.

    “I find it curious that Lord Vader waited so long to close in for the...” He broke off before he could utter the word kill and looked momentarily abashed. “To attempt an arrest.”

    “Attempt?” Thane Antilles challenged. “I think we have surpassed the attempt and are seeking out the nature of the charges.”

    “He is guilty of upholding justice and advocating on behalf of the oppressed,” Leia countered. “Those are crimes enough in the Imperial court.”

    There was a murmur of assent from the gathered thanes, but neither Antilles nor Selrieen spoke up again.

    “Lord Vader has despised his Republican loyalties since the days when the Republic still existed,” the High Princess reminded them. “If he has made an arrest, it is because there was a catalyst. Do we know what that was?”

    “Not certainly,” Thane Mekthama, the security advisor responded. “The viceroy's actions of late have been above reproach.”

    They had been above reproach, since he had accepted the influx of thousands of refugees from the Ghorman camps and signed several laws into effect which lowered taxes and redistributed educational funding. Before the Senate session had closed a month previously, he had worked long nights to support a bill that would provide emergency assistance to impoverished worlds within the Empire. He himself had done nothing more than trade political philosophy with those who waxed nostalgic at any mention of the Jedi Order.

    In the same timeframe, however, the Empire had lost four Star Destroyers and several light cruisers to rebel attacks. One of Palpatine's most staunch allies had been assassinated just after Empire Day. If the Empire had enough circumstantial evidence to link Bail Organa to any of those perpetrators, it would mean trouble.

    * * *​

    Crossing Enemy Lines by EmeraldJediFire and Nyota's Heart

    "Going somewhere, Elan…or would you prefer I called you Shira?”
    The voice stopped her in her tracks and she pivoted, eyes scanning the nearby area.
    “Luke.” She purred menacingly. “It’s good to see you.”
    Luke walked into view casually, as if there wasn’t a squad of guardsman about to converge upon their location.

    “I wish I could say the same, but I’m half wondering what you’re doing here.”

    She shrugged. “Just business.”


    “Perhaps. What gave me away?”

    Luke frowned inwardly. He didn’t like the thought of being snooped upon; whether it was Vader’s doing or the Emperor’s.

    “It was the scent of your perfume.” He replied. “It always amazes me why you choose to wear such a hideously scented smell. It makes you stand out like a Hutt in the sun.”

    She gave a mocking smile. “Always the charmer.” She stopped, straining her ears. “So, are you planning to reveal me to your little playmates?”

    Luke snorted. “As much as I would love to, I’m afraid that wouldn’t be all too wise now would it?”

    Shira gave a shocked look. “I do believe you’re right.”

    “Palpatine knew about the Adumarians, didn’t he?” Luke questioned.

    “You know our Master.” She could hear approaching feet. “I believe that’s my cue to leave. Do you want to go with “plan zeta”?”

    Plan Zeta was Shira Brie’s code word for her knocking him out. The things he had to do…

    “If you don’t mind.”

    “It’ll be my pleasure.”

    “And, Shira, tell “the dog” not to interfere with my mission again…”

    * * *​

    Path of a Jedi by Master_Fay_Fan

    * * *​

    The Jedi Empire by NightWatcher91

    * * *​

    Handoff by TheProphetOfSullust

    “No accusation meant I, young Jaina,” Yoda interrupted. “First to come, you are not, though none from world of Azeroth met I before. Great evil some would bring here. Stopped them I did, when the cave’s own darkness did not.”

    Arthas, Jaina knew, would burst in laughter at the very idea that this creature, barely reaching her waist, could stop ‘great evil’. Having had one’s prowess underestimated herself, Jaina looked deeper. She didn’t want to offend Yoda by making his aura visible without permission, but his behavior told enough by itself. Quiet was clearly something he enjoyed, did not like disrupting, and would impose simply by sheer presence.
  10. Chyntuck

    Chyntuck Force Ghost star 5

    Jul 11, 2014
    Saga – Best Canon

    Turn Your Face to the Sun by JadeLotus

    But then I recall you were an exemplary teacher, and so much of what I seek you have already shown me. I remember what you told me once when I was still a padawan and had made a mess of our mission on Alaris. You said: turn your face to the sun, and let the shadows fall behind you. Well, Qui-Gon, this planet has two suns and twice as many shadows, but the advice is apt. What is done is done, and I must look to the future, now.

    And yet I cannot stop thinking of Anakin, how how I failed him, and how ill-qualified I am to protect his son. How can I not blame myself for his fall? It was my responsibility to train him, to teach him to be strong enough to resist the dark - did I not love him as more than a brother, was I not respectful and silent regarding his relationship with Padmé because I knew it made him happy, did I not encourage his strengths and try to reign in his excesses? And yet I failed, as I failed the Council and the Republic, as I fear I will fail Luke...

    I can almost hear you chiding me, Qui-Gon, that blame and self-pity are as helpful as carrying stones in one’s pockets. I must not let the shadows take me, but turn away if I am ever to protect the boy, on whom all our hopes rest.

    I will heed your advice, Master. I will hide in the sun, in plain sight, and hope that the light dwarfs all who look too close. I will trust in the Force, and myself, and I will not fail.

    * * *​

    Versé, transformed into a flower by Pandora

    Then: She looks well, one of us says, in a snowsoft voice I have never heard before, and I feel relieved. I knew most of these women once—in another life, in the identity I left behind like an old dress—but I don’t remember how to talk with them.

    She died in the explosion that was meant to kill Senator Amidala (along with the other handmaiden, the decoy, the one whose name died along with her) but the embalmer on Coruscant made a good job of covering it up, before her body was crated up for the hyperspace journey, and before her parents stood over the opened box. I can only just make out the rotted-brown rose petal bruise smashed on her forehead.

    “You could say that. But I think she looks dead,” Dané says next to me. She has lowered her hood, and her redrose hair is covered with shadows.

    “There isn’t much else to say,” another woman (Yané, perhaps. Or it could only be my imagination that she left her husband in Keren for this) says.

    Of course, there isn’t anything else to say. When you become a handmaiden (even the sort of handmaiden Dané and I were, waiting in training for the girl-queen I only knew from her portrait and her frozen little voice) you only listen. When you do speak—and according to Saché and Miré, I was good with this—your voice is only an echo.

    Several more women fade away into the darkness. It only takes a blinked second, and they’re gone. When I shake my head, my thoughts flutter about like moon-moths. I’m reminded of the line in a poem I wrote, during my gap year after I left service: Handmaidens never leave. They only vanish inside their cloaks.
    * * *​

    Hypothetically Speaking by skygawker

    Anakin and Obi-Wan reflect after Ahsoka chooses to leave the Order at the end of Season 5 of The Clone Wars.

    Anakin wasn't sure how long he'd been standing at the top of the Temple steps, staring out over the city. It could have been minutes since Ahsoka had walked away from the Jedi, from him, or it could have been hours. He wasn't sure which, and he didn't particularly care. It didn't seem like anything that had just happened could actually be real - it was some sort of terrible, terrible joke, maybe, and Ahsoka was going to pop back up at any minute with a "Gotcha, Master" and he'd have to put her on cleaning duty for days as a punishment, or else maybe the past few days had been just some sort of twisted nightmare and he'd wake up soon in his bed. Maybe if he just stood here and refused to accept that it had happened, the Force would give him a break and make it so that it hadn't.

    None of those things happened, and the sky over Coruscant darkened as he stood motionless in the cool evening breeze, hands clenched at his sides. So lost within his own thoughts was he that he didn't even notice the presence which came up behind him until it spoke: "Anakin."

    He jumped slightly in surprise, then relaxed as he recognized the quiet, familiar voice. "This was wrong," he said. "Master, all of this was just so wrong. It never should have happened." Even to himself, his voice sounded flat, lifeless..

    "I know," said Obi-Wan, moving forward to stand at his side. "It never should have gone this far, and I'm so sorry that it did. But Ahsoka made her choice, for better or for worse, and she's not going to come back just because you stand out here all night.''
  11. Chyntuck

    Chyntuck Force Ghost star 5

    Jul 11, 2014
    Saga – Best Humour

    The Galactic Correspondent by Chyntuck, Ewok Poet, Goodwood, Kahara, Nyota's Heart, SabyneAmberle, skygawker and Viridian-Maiden -- Excerpt from this post

    Hello, readers! Farla Fraabhal here, your fearless investigator of the glitzy and glamorous. I do apologize for the tardiness of this article, but you would not believe the mess I had to endure to get this scoop here in my lovely office on Coruscant! So, here's the scoop. I sent one of my eager young assistants to Naboo in the hopes of obtaining an interview with the fabulous Queen Amidala. Can you all imagine what an honor that would be? I don't know what would be more fabulous, an interview with Her Majesty, or a chance to see the rainbow of gowns she must own. I've fielded reports from so many sources about those gowns; the silks and jewels she dresses herself in are supposedly to die for!

    As you can all imagine, dear readers, that interview never panned out. We had all the arrangements finalized when what should happen? A blockade! I'll tell you, readers, the timing of this could not have been worse. My poor, poor assistants have been stuck on that planet for the last five months, with no way home! I told them they should stay on that planet and relay as much information to me as possible...and of course, try to get as many photos of Her Majesty as they could. Can't have a celebrity and fashion column without celebrities or fashion, now can you? I'm still waiting in giddy anticipation for those photos to download so I can add them to an upcoming column. Seeing the new Queen of Naboo in all her finery is a new favorite pasttime of mine!

    So, five months since that terrible day, I receive even more bad news from my assistants. Now, there's an invasion going on. Unbelievable!

    * * *​

    An Obi-Wan Challenge by earlybird-obi-wan, Jedi Master Kenobiwan, laloga, obimom (a.k.a. Obiwan456), ruth baulding, serendipityaey and Valairy Scot

    "Let us be fair," Obi Wan grumbled. "You got us into this mess. So you can get us back out again."

    "What do you mean?" Anakin snapped. "It's not my fault!"

    "I only know one direction, Master!" Anakin grumped. "I get us in; you get us out."

    "Well, I'm out of ideas at the moment," Obi-Wan said, the sound of his voice tight - a sure sign his patience was running short.

    "I've never seen such a - a -"

    "Such a kriffing horde of holonet reporters," Anakin filled in. "Quick, master, in here."

    "Oh, now I /know/ you're not the brains of this team," the Jedi master muttered, allowing his friend to drag him into the disreputable establishment just ahead.

    "Here, hide your famous mug behind this drink." Anakin snatched up a mug and thrust it into Obi-Wan's hands. "Oh oh, bottoms up, Master."

    "Isn't that your speciality, Poster Boy?" Obi-Wan snarked, smacking said bottom with one hand and smacking his lips with the other (it was a good drink).

    Anakin's tart reply was cut off by a searing flash of blue light as Obi-Wan whirled, saber cleaving an intrusive holonet cam-droid in two.

    "Hey!" Anakin yelped, the seat of his pants smoldering.

    "Those kriffin' droids are way too nosy," Obi-Wan explained. He craned his neck behind Anakin and "oh oh'd."

    "What - and get your nose away from there."

    "My nose has no intention of making close acquaintance with that part of your anatomy, Padawan! But your - ah - glowing lightsabers are now exposed to the holonet."

    * * *​

    On the Many Uses of Space Wrap by Lazy K

    It was thin, transparent, very stretchy, and retained most of its durability when heat-shrunk and exposed to the vacuum of space. It was called space wrap, if only because transpariplast film was such a mouthful and quite a few mouths - mostly nonhuman ones - simply weren't up to the task.

    It was also a puzzle why Jabba the Hutt would order twelve rolls of the stuff.

    * * *​

    The Jedi's New Clothes by Lazy K

    As a child growing up on Tatooine, Luke had been taught two very important lessons. One: stay clear of the Hutts; and two: keep as much of your body covered as possible.

    Unfortunately, sometimes you didn't have a choice. Like, for example, when your best friend had been taken captive by a Hutt who wanted him dead or worse. And when attempts to negotiate with said Hutt had led to his own incarceration, and after he'd been strip-searched for weapons they'd neglected to return his clothes - and when the apparel they'd given him was not suited for desert wear.

    So here he was now, flying over the sands of Tatooine to meet his doom, protected from the elements by nothing more than a handful of golden fabric covering his nether regions. He suspected the shackles were more helpful in that respect. If he actually got out of this alive, he was going to have one hell of a sunburn.

    * * *​

    Gnats by pronker

    After treasuring angst to its logical limit, I decided to write an anti-angst story. Here's part of it ...

    Ahsoka waves her lightsaber hand over the basket. "Shoo! Barriss, it's just a gnat, don't be a squeegee --- " I haven't heard this slang before. Old, I am getting.

    I peer inside the basket. "Those are dried swamp apples, what did you think they were?"

    "Ears." Barriss and Ahsoka erupt as only teen Padawans can, high-pitched squeals that border on shrieks. This goes on and on until they hiccup. This evokes more giggles. Eventually, Barriss goes back to her text as she sits on the plastoid chair, tapping her feet as she concentrates.

    Ahsoka gets even more comfortable. She slides the flowers, holozines and L'levalc's weighty padd off my nightstand onto the floor and perches there up high, propping her feet on the edge of my bed. "Yeah, sure wish you could've been with us. Sure, sure do." She has gotten ahold of my nail file and saws away at a rough edge. The noise resounds like a güiro in a jizz band in a night club with poor acoustics. She crosses her legs. "Um, say, Anakin has repaired your speeder and Barriss and I were going with the gang to the Glitannai Esplanade and then maybe later if there's time to the Manarai Mountains." Now the nail filing sounds like a raucous reco-reco and I wince. "Look, is it okay if I borrow the keys to your speeder? You probably won't be needing it for awhile."

    * * *​

    Ain't Me by Rau_Fang

    In this excerpt from Ain't Me, the cat is out of the bag when the hapless Lars Kannon confesses to impersonating the famed smuggler Han Solo.

    The bagged man's weary head swung on his shoulders as he spoke, his limbs dangled like a marionette, "At the sabacc table I was usin' a psuedonomial. I thought'd be funny if I said I was Han Solo."

    "He's lying!" Ukxean said.

    "I can't believe none of ya'll seen't a holo of Solo," the bagged man said. "I don't even look like him!"

    Ukxean ripped the black canvas from atop the man’s head.

    "Ah!" the bagged man yelped as the backdoor security lights struck his blue eyes. His pupils constricted quickly. His long wavy blonde hair mussed by the black canvas bag and blood dribbled down the corner of his fair lips.

    "You know what… I’m starting to think that I’ve heard Solo’s hair is brown?”

    "I figured he bleached his hair," Mende said defensively. "He looks Corellian enough."

    "Corellian?! Ya cain't tell by my accent I'm Nar Shaddaan? Why I never..." The man-not-Corellian spit at the ground, "Corellian."

    "He talks enough to be Corellian."

    "I ain't no Corellian."

    "Alright," Mende grabbed the man-not-Han Solo by the shirt collar and sat him down on the large empty egg bin. "If you ain't Han Solo then who do you think you are?"

    "Wedge Antilles."

    Mende reached up and struck the man’s face several times with a three-fingered slap.

    "Ah. Ah. Ok. Ok! I'm Lars Kannon."

    * * *​

    Chunky Cheese by SatineNaberrie

    * * *​

    Return of the Jedi Humorous Version by study3600
  12. Chyntuck

    Chyntuck Force Ghost star 5

    Jul 11, 2014
    Saga – Best All-Around

    Attack of the Clones Alternate Ending by Admiral Volshe, Chyntuck, Darth_Furio, Goodwood and Satine Naberrie -- Excerpt from chapter 1

    “Around the survivors a perimeter create!”

    The faintest of smiles touched the genteel-looking man’s lips as he leaned back in his chair and observed the holofeed of the scene. If only they knew, he thought to himself. If only they knew that he was sitting in the office of the highest authority of the Republic,watching them from afar through the feed from the photoreceptors in the Separatists’ battle droids. If only they knew that he had placed a similar tap into the helmets of every one of their clone troopers and could now enjoy the sight of the battle from all angles. If only they knew that he, Darth Sidious, Dark Lord of the Sith, was also Sheev Palpatine, Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic. That he was leading the Separatists, that he was leading the Republic, and that, for years already, he had been hauling around by the nose Master Yoda and his pitiful posse of Jedi.

    The Dark Lord relished watching Anakin Skywalker fight with increasing desperation against wave after wave of battle droids, attempting to protect the woman he loved. A smirk slithered across his face. Half a galaxy away he could feel, through the ripples of the Force, the young man’s every emotion, fear, or spike of rage. He could perceive his every thought. After years of careful nurturing, he had brought him ever closer, to the point where the boy would be his—and only his. And the Jedi blundered on, oblivious to his planning and scheming. Sidious was looking forward now to giving the "Chosen One" that final push towards the dark side of the Force.

    From the day that fool Qui-Gon Jinn had brought Anakin to Coruscant, Sidious had carefully maneuvered around the child, insinuating himself as father, mentor and friend. The boy had much potential, more than the Sith Lord had ever seen in a sentient being. Behind the thin veneer of youthful enthusiasm and Jedi serenity, his soul was a dark pit churning with the most vile, base, and ugly of instincts—or those described as such by the Jedi Code. Anakin's energy was pervaded with rage and passion, emotion and anger, ambition and lust. He had deep-seated fears—fears that, despite their patronizing talk, the Jedi had never and would never be able to uproot—and, little by little, step by tiny step, Sidious had cultivated these traits to prepare the boy for the future he had in mind.

    Senator Amidala’s return to Coruscant for the vote on the Military Creation Act had been the perfect opportunity to set the cogs in motion for the next step of his plan. He had made sure that the protection mandate given to Obi-Wan would be too narrow for his rash Padawan’s taste—years of listening to Anakin’s sappy ramblings about Padmé had finally paid off—thus driving a wedge between the boy and his master. He had then subtly manipulated the Jedi, allowing Anakin to be assigned as Padmé’s bodyguard and to accompany her back to Naboo. He had sent images to Anakin of his dying mother, meticulously, to ensure that he would arrive too late. He had reveled in Anakin’s deadly outburst on Tatooine. In his frenzy of uncontrolled rage, the young man had sent waves of ferocity through the Force, his wrath and hatred unlike anything Sidious had experienced before. It was just another taste of the galaxy's future, which he was so carefully orchestrating.
    * * *​

    Another Other by Annia Piet

    In this AU, Mara Jade is rescued from the Empire at a young age and taken to Yoda for protection and training. In this scene, her mysterious rescuer is waiting to meet Yoda to pass the young girl over to him.

    12 BBY

    Mara’s small form clung to the large man’s shoulder as he carried her inside the dingy building. She peered through her tangled red hair to see where they were. The room, scattered with a variety of aliens and humans sipping drinks at tables and in shadowy booths, was punctuated by a long bar running down it’s centre. A bulky man wiping glasses behind the counter looked up at them sourly, and Mara felt as much as saw the attention of the customers flicker towards them. Curiosity, she felt, particularly at her; the man who carried her belonged here, she did not.

    “This is no place to bring your younglings,” the bar man barked at them, flapping his dish-rag towards the door.

    “Not mine,” the man carrying her replied gruffly. She still did not know his name, for all the weeks they’d spent together now. “Merchandise. I’m meeting a buyer.”

    The bar keep huffed slightly but seemed mollified. Mara felt the attention from round the room drift off into disinterest.

    As he carried her over to a booth in the far corner, Mara wondered at his words. Had he been lying to her all these weeks? Did he really mean her harm after all? Was he just like the others who had stolen her away before?

    She felt his mind reach out to her mind to soothe her. She felt rather than heard the sense of it; trust me. That was what the Dark Man had said too. But this one felt different.

    He settled her down in the darkest corner of the booth, pulling the woollen hood that had fallen off her outside from his pocket and making a valiant attempt to cover her hair with it once again. The poor man seemed utterly bemused as to what to do with a small girl – her hair hadn’t been brushed since the day he’d found her. He signalled for drinks to be brought over. Only one appeared. Mara supposed ‘merchandise’ didn’t get drinks.

    They waited some time. Mara took in everything around her as her companion sipped at his drink in silence. It was so different from everything she had known. All this grime and dirt and sticky pools of some spilt drink on the table was nothing like the crisp, brightly lit rooms she had spent her entire time in the last few years. Nothing like her more distant memories either, of a place filled with warmth and love. She tried to cling to those memories, secretly, against the demands of her keepers, but they slipped further and further away all the time, wiped out a little bit more every time she had been shown to the Dark Man and he reached into her mind…

    Mara shut her eyes tightly against the thought. Maybe she would have to forget the warm place if she were to forget him. Maybe she would just have to. Although that felt like letting him win in some way…

    Feeling her distress, the big man looked down at her, meeting her wide green eyes, and awkwardly took her hand in some gesture of comfort. “It’s alright,” he said softly. “You’ll be safe soon.”

    * * *​

    Crossing Enemy Lines by EmeraldJediFire and Nyota's Heart

    “Your skils are most impressive.” Vader hissed as he blocked another attack.

    Mara circled him; she needed only to keep the Dark Lord busy so her friends could escape.

    “I have to wonder where you learned such skill,” He murmured and batted aside her blade, as he knocked her to the ground.

    She stared at him. What exactly was Vader’s game? Was this a method to toy with her head? To distract her? She watched him circle around her like a predator. Her eyes tracked him wryly as she got to her feet.

    “Obi-Wan.” He hissed, plucking the name from her mind.

    Mara slammed her shields back up, cursing herself for letting them slip. She brought her lightsaber back into a defensive position, gauging him. Not yet…

    “He must have taught you well before he slipped away.”

    Not yet..

    Vader was taunting her.

    He was intent on ripping through her defenses---she blocked a strike from the Dark Lord--as well as battering her psycically. He would retreat and strike, using the pattern over and over again as he interlaced it with taunts. This was not like Vader at all...what was happening.

    “Or perhaps, it is not Obi-Wan who presides over your thoughts, girl.”


    She had hesitated for a moment, smelling the scent of burnt hair as the tips of hers were singed. She had ducked Vader's striking blade just in time.

    It had missed her skull by mere centimeters.

    She was lucky it had only been her hair. Vader had several decades on her, and was thus very powerful from an objective point of view. No, she corrected, he was underhanded, using every trick he needed to beat down her guard--and she’d let him get to her….

    Mara cursed once more.

    * * *​

    The Broken Boy and the Blind Master by gaarastar58 – Excerpt from chapter 1

    In this AU 13 year old Anakin is paralyzed in an illegal podrace. He struggles to come to terms with his new life with the help of Yoda and Master Forgo (OC). Below are two short extracts from the first chapter. Enjoy!

    Anakin fought for breath against the metal crushing against his chest. Blood seeped into his eye from a cut on his forehead. The weight of the damaged podracer pinned his body against the duracrete slabs. Smoke belched from the wrecked engines and he felt the heat of flames. He tried to move but his body shrieked with pain, argent lines of agony shooting up his back. He screamed for help. The pain blinded him, making it hard to think. His stodgy brain was able to process only one clear thought:

    I can’t feel my legs.


    ‘Unable to sleep, young Skywalker?’

    Anakin’s head snapped around and he looked down to see the diminutive but charismatic figure of Master Yoda staring up at him.
    ‘Uh, yes Master.’

    ‘In pain are you?’

    ‘No, well yes, but I… I had a nightmare.’ Part of Anakin expected a lecture about fear, a lecture he’d been treated to many times, but Yoda simply pulled his long ears back and sighed. Hobbling to the bench, he clambered up to sit opposite Anakin. ‘Do you dream about your accident, hmm?’

    ‘It was my fault, I was an idiot.’

    Yoda tapped his chin with a clawed finger. ‘Agree with that I would.’

    A smile twitched at Anakin’s cheek. ‘What about you Master, are you having trouble sleeping?’

    ‘I was meditating. Many nights now I have sensed you, roving the temple at night, searching.’


    ‘For answers.’

    Anakin shrugged and cupped his hands around his mug, enjoying the warmth which spread through his fingers. ‘I just needed to get out of my room.’

    ‘So you say. How do you find working with Madam Jocasta?’

    ‘It’s alright I suppose.’

    ‘Not exciting enough for you?’

    ‘I didn’t say that,’ said Anakin. He didn’t know why he was bothering to lie to Yoda, the ancient Jedi Master was impossible to deceive.

    Yoda hummed to himself, tapping a claw on the surface of the bench. ‘Very hard this has been for you Anakin. Hard to accept. You are always seeking excitement, but blame yourself for this you cannot. Foolish it was to enter that race but worse to deny your true nature.’

    Anakin’s head came up. ‘What do you mean?’

    ‘To try and supress your true nature, a very bad idea this is. It can only lead to frustration and anger. I know you Anakin. Cruel you are not, greedy you are not. But if you try to ignore your feelings, these things you would become.’

    ‘You mean if I try to force myself to be something I’m not it would be bad for me?’

    Yoda nodded. ‘You were true to yourself. There is no shame in that.’

    ‘It wasn’t very Jedi of me though.’

    ‘Perfect, nobody is.’

    ‘I guess not.’ Anakin stared into the bottom of his mug and swirled the hot chocolate around. ‘I guess I’m just afraid of being useless now.’

    Yoda leaned back and closed his eyes and Anakin felt a subtle shift in the Force as Yoda opened himself to help it guide him towards an answer. The large green eyes opened and looked at Anakin, through him, peering at him with through the Force as well as looking at him physically.

    ‘As always your path is clouded Anakin, but help you I will try. Do you know Master Forgo?’

    Anakin shook his head.

    ‘Meet him you should, learn from him.’

    ‘Does that mean I’m excused from Archive duty?’

    ‘Attend to that you must also,’ said Yoda and Anakin caught the hint of a smile around the wrinkled mouth.

    ‘It was worth a try I suppose,’ sighed Anakin.

    * * *​

    Can't Look Away by Kahara

    In this AU, Mara Jade left the Empire much earlier than in the books. Luke and Mara are working together as members of the Rebellion, while also beginning to realize their unexpected feelings for each other. Also worth noting is that Mara and Yoda have met previously.

    “Huh. What does your Master Yoda say about that?”

    Luke makes a harrumphing sound and she immediately pushes him in the shoulder.

    “No you don’t! Don’t you even think of it!”

    “Ahem.” The imitation of the little green Jedi Master’s voice is so spot on it’s beyond disturbing. “Adventure. Heh. Excitement. Heh. A Jedi craves not these things.”

    “Gah, Luke! Stop it!” She’s about to die of laughter, or fall off the chair. One or the other. He has to be stopped. “The last thing I want to be hearing right now is Master Yoda – no offence to the gremlin.”

    To ensure that the dramatic interpretations cease, she turns her head and kisses him. This feels just as strong, but less frantic than before, and she thinks that she can probably stay awake and do this until they come to fetch her and Luke for their next assignments. But at some point she’s leaning on his shoulder and closes her eyes, just for a minute. Occasionally she half-wakes, feeling the slow breathing of his chest in sleep.

    The holo that Luke’s squadmates take of this scene shows him and Mara pillowed against each other and resting peacefully, with a variety of lightweight objects piled on top: gauze, pieces of flimsy, chunks of packing foam, and feathers. Apparently the Rogues are inspired by some holonet meme about seeing how many things one can pile on a pittin without waking the creature from its slumber.

    * * *​

    In the Cards by Raissa Baiard – Excerpt from chapter 1

    In this scene, Doran speaks to the gatekeeper of Paolo L'szelo's holocron about the difficulty of training his new padawan, Raissa Baiard.

    "Good morning, Jedi Jade." Paolo said, dipping his head in greeting. "How is your padawan's training coming along?"

    "It's Blayne, now, Doran Blayne. As I believe I've mentioned the last twelve times we've talked." Paolo's image waved away this triviality; like his creator, the Paolo-cron tended to dismiss fiddly details like using the right name in favor of waxing philosophical about the Force. Doran knew he should just ignore Paolo's insistence on calling him "Jedi Jade," but it was a title he didn't deserve and a name that was no longer his. "The training is going...slowly."

    "Hmmm." Paolo pursed his lips, considering. "No doubt your padawan's difficulties are a consequence of beginning her training well past the point she should have. Younglings have fewer preconceived ideas of what is possible and what is impossible. It is one of the reasons we start their training from infancy. Your padawan must unlearn all she knows in order to learn the ways of the Force; it will be a great struggle for her, I fear. . . How old did you say she is, again?"

    Doran had not, in fact, told him how old Baiard was. First of all, he didn't know, exactly; you didn't ask a woman her age. Secondly, Paolo didn't need more reasons to give him the kindly, pitying look he had perfected over the course of their interactions. "Somewhere in her mid-twenties, I'd say."

    Paolo's image flickered and popped in surprise. By the mid-twenties, most padawans had nearly finished their training and were preparing for their Jedi trials. "The Council approved this?"

    Doran hadn't decided if there was a glitch in the Paolo-cron's programming or if he was just willfully obtuse. "I explained this to you before; there is no Council anymore. Palpatine, Vader and their goons wiped out the Jedi. You may be one of the last remaining Jedi masters, so I took your word for it when you said I should train Baiard."

    Paolo crackled again as he processed this information. "Well, then, I'm certain you're capable of training her. You only need to trust yourself and trust the Force to guide you."

    "Yeah, thanks for the aphorisms," Doran growled. "That's very unhelpful."

    "Such cynicism ill becomes a Jedi," Paolo reproved. "Perhaps Padawan Baiard would learn faster if you let go of your bitterness and self-doubt and recalled Master Yoda's advice: 'Do or do not; there is no try.'


    "Why do I even bother talking to that thing?" he asked the room, though he already knew the answer: there was no other guidance available. Of all the Jedi masters in all the worlds, why did he have to be stuck with Paolo L'szelo?

    An unpleasant thought tickled the back of Doran's brain; for all his sanctimoniousness, Paolo had been right about one thing. Doran wasn't living up to the mantra Master Yoda had drilled into every youngling for three hundred years. He hadn't fully committed himself to being a Jedi again. He hadn't touched the spectacular Adegan crystal Baiard gave him because he was afraid he'd ruin it. He was sticking with his card reading exercise not because he wanted Baiard to master one skill at a time, but because he was reluctant to try anything else.

    Because he might fail, might become an even bigger failure of a Jedi than he already was, and this time he wouldn't just be failing himself or the Jedi, he'd be failing Baiard.

    And that, Doran found, bothered him more than the idea of failing as a Jedi again.
  13. Chyntuck

    Chyntuck Force Ghost star 5

    Jul 11, 2014
    Saga – Best Epic

    She Shall Rise Again by Admiral Volshe

    * * *​

    Star Wars Episode One: A False Dawn by carl_hollywood

    Errant Jedi, Obi Wan Kenobi has stumbled upon a great threat to the galaxy in the form of a mysterious and massive army ravaging planets beyond the outer rim. Worse still, the commanders of this army seem to be disciples of the Dark Side. It's up to Kenobi and a small band of unlikely allies, including an infamous pirate and a teenager from Tatooine, to convince the Republic, edging toward oligarchy, and the Jedi Order, so diminished and furtive that its very existence is doubted by many, that this dark army must be stopped -- before it is too late.

    This adventure represents the first steps in an attempt at a clean-slate rewrite of the Star Wars prequel trilogy. Events and characters from the prequel films have been completely discarded. Online wikis were consulted, albeit minimally, for the names of certain planets, currencies, etc., but only the content of the original trilogy has been treated as canon. It was the author's hope that by focusing solely on Episodes IV through VI as inspiration, he might be able to hew closer to the archetypes, themes, and genre tropes, that make the original films as wonderful as they are.

    The script is presented in an approximation of screenplay format -- altered somewhat as necessitated by the restraints of the site. It is a rough draft.

    * * *​

    Hanna's Story by Cynical_Ben – Excerpt from chapter 15

    Putting herself at the controls of the Arbiter, Hanna reflected, was not her smartest decision on this mission. She did not know how to be a gunner/navigator in any but the most general way, being far more used to actually flying a ship than sitting beside the pilot and waiting for something to happen. Having to sit beside Atto as he flew, with T'ocs standing behind them giving the occasional direction or bit of advice, and everyone else chiming in from time to time over the commlink, their return through the atmosphere and into the sky over Ome City was a bit more nerve-wracking than it should have been.

    Of course, she reflected, that was because the whole mission was more nerve-wracking than it should have been. Beside that, the alternative, inserting with T'ocs and the others into the tower and having to fight through more of the Jedi things they had fought before, was very likely to be worse. She was in no mood or condition to do more fighting at the moment, especially not up-close and personal. Just the thought of someone's bones grinding and snapping in her grasp was enough to make her stomach do flips inside her. She never wanted to have to kill someone like that again.

    From here, though, the killing would be much easier. Impersonal, clinical, like Ice said. Better from a distance, where you would not be spattered with blood or be able to hear the screams.

    It occurred to her that she was trying to think as dispassionately as possible about having to snuff out the life of another being and, for a moment, Hanna felt a cold lump settle in her stomach and throat. Was this what it meant to be a soldier? To separate yourself from the sense of horror you felt at directly causing the death of someone who, if circumstances were different, might have been your neighbor, or even friend?

    She had always wanted to follow in her father's footsteps, to be what he had been, to carry the Shirid name forward and make it as famous under the Empire as it had been under the Republic. But her dreams had always been of marching, of formations, drills, and of medals and ceremonies. All of her training, her schooling, lessons from dozens of instructors over the years, the drills and ceremonies, those were just the frame. This was a soldier's life, what she was living now. Maybe the flag T'ocs and the rest of the crew flew under was not as big as the one that hung over the Academy back on Empress Teta, but it was still a flag.

    Hours of waiting and preparation, sitting here aboard the Arbiter in hyperspace and orbit around the planet, laying down in the mud and moss of the tree, then bang. Frantic action, split-second decisions, pain, loss, exhaustion, and then the slow climb back. And now it was going to happen all over again.

    “Coming up on the city.” Atto reported, “We'll be through the cloud cover and into visual range in a few seconds.”

    T'ocs' voice, a harsh metallic grow, rang in Hanna's ear and caused her to jump in her seat. “Any trace of the corvette yet?”

    “No.” She said out of reflex, before actually checking the sensors. “No sign of it, no transponder signal or anything.”

    T'ocs made an inarticulate noise, a growl of frustration, and moved away from Hanna's seat.

    * * *​

    The Book of Gand by Findswoman – Excerpt from chapter IX

    On a routine patrol mission to one of Gand’s poorer pocket colonies, Zuckuss (currently an apprentice Findsman) comes across some children bullying a young girl selling fruit at the marketplace. He intervenes, but what the girl does next surprises him.

    The black-eyed boy spoke again, in sickly-sweet tones. “Won’t you let this Gand buy one of your blue togu?”

    The girl held out her basket. The boy grabbed a globular purple-blue fruit from it and threw it forcefully to the ground near her feet. Moist aquamarine pulp splattered on the cobblestones. He and his companions clicked and jeered as the girl bent down to pick it up, then looked it over intently, feeling it and the oozing pulp with both hands.

    Meanwhile, in the booth, Zuckuss fidgeted uneasily with a scoop in a large cloth sack of dried nutrient strips, wondering if he should intervene. But Volokoss’s instructions had been clear, and so far the only thing that had suffered physical harm was a togu . . . He looked about in case any of the children’s parents had appeared. But none had, and the nearby shopkeepers seemed to be taking no interest. To them it was apparently just some children’s game.

    “So!” Both Zuckuss and the golden-eyed girl jumped at this sudden exclamation from the black-eyed boy. “Aren’t you going to tell this Gand’s fortune, like you promised?”

    “Gand already did.” The girl’s response was timid and barely audible, but she was now looking the boy squarely in the eye.

    “Well, has it happened yet?” The black-eyed boy leaned close to her, his mandibles splayed fully open. “No, it hasn’t. Perhaps the Sacred Visionary Mists saw fit to inform you that this Gand’s father”—he rapped on his chest with one claw—“is Semfod Sylonn, governor of N’xid, and he has never lost any money on any of his investments. Ever.”

    “Not yet. But by sunset . . .” She gulped, as though close to sobs. “By sunset the market will crash. The Grenn-Mygra bubble will burst. And . . . and he will be without a single credit.”

    “You’re making that up, you little liar!”

    “No—Gand is not—”

    “You are! You’re talking nonsense!

    “But you asked—”

    “LIAR!” The black-eyed boy’s mandibles clattered with rage. He grabbed the girl by the collar of her tunic and gave her a violent shove backward into a large mud puddle. Her basket and all the fruit in it flew in all directions, scattering and splattering on the cobblestones. The boy’s friends rushed to stomp on any fruit that did not squash upon impact.

    This was Zuckuss’s cue to act. He dropped the scoopful of nutrient strips—only some of which, to the shopkeeper’s horror, ended up back in the sack—and ran between the black-eyed boy and his victim.


    He stopped short. The dust and grime from the cobblestones seemed to be rising into the air around the girl, who was now sitting upright, apparently oblivious to the slimy, brown-green mud soiling her clothes, and fixing the boy in her fiery golden gaze. Higher and faster the dust swirled, glowing silver like the mist in the sky. The black-eyed boy and his friends backed ever so slightly away; Zuckuss’s intuition tingled as he took a cautious step to the side.

    Then the girl struck the back of her hand full-force on the pavement. Just as she did, the swirling dusts gathered into a whirlwind that flew directly at the boy and his companions. They scattered in a volley of screams, oaths, and coughs.

    Just as quickly as it had arisen, the whirlwind vanished. And the girl collapsed into the muddy water.

    * * *​

    Into The Archives by skygawker

    After hearing the legend of Darth Plagueis the Wise from Palpatine, Anakin decides that his best chance to save Padme is to break into the restricted Holocron Vault of the Temple Archives to search for information about Plagueis; predictably, all does not go according to plan (RotS AU).

    He dragged his fingers along the crevice between the bottom and sides of the shelf, then along the top. Near the end of the shelf, his finger was caught, though not by any physical obstruction. There was something there, in the Force, and if he reached out with his mind and twisted it, just so…

    The whole section of wall in front of him swung away, revealing the entrance to a small, dark room. The darkness was not merely the kind that results from absence of light, but the sort of pure entrancing blackness that one could imagine seeing in a bottomless pit or a black hole.

    And Anakin Skywalker thought, finally.

    He stepped forward without making the conscious decision to do so, pulled across the entrance by a tug that felt physical, as though something inside of the room had put hooks into his heart and stomach and was yanking him toward it. Once inside, he could feel the darkness pressing in on him, pushing him forward and whispering in his ear words like power and destiny and right.

    And it felt good, like a piece of himself that he had never known he was missing had been slotted into place inside his heart. He looked around, feeling oddly numb, taking in the shelves of holocrons in the dim lighting from the entryway. They were different than the ones in the room he had just left, pyramids instead of cubes, and were scattered sparsely, haphazardly on the wooden shelves.

    He crossed the room in a daze. There was no need to think about where he was going; here, there was only the Force. Guided by an unseen hand, he knelt down in front of one of the old wooden shelves and reached out for one of the holocrons. An old memory of something Obi-Wan had said to him once, about some Sith holocrons being able to possess the people who touch them, was enough to break through the dreamlike feeling and make him hesitate.

    But only for a moment. He couldn't let fear get in his way, not now when he could feel that he was on the precipice of something, some powerful inevitability. He lowered his flesh hand, reaching out instead with the gloved, mechanical one. A current of energy rippled through him the moment he touched the holocron, and for a moment he just knelt there, gripping it, letting the feeling of power flow through him. He moved on the the next shelf, and then to the next, picking up holocrons at random and replacing them back on the shelf.

    He wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for, but each one he touched deepened his connection to the Force and brought him into an almost trancelike state. Every holocron felt slightly different than the one before, and all of them hummed with an invisible energy that went bone-deep. It was the same sense of static electricity he'd felt before, building up on Anakin's skin and and reverberating through every nerve in his body.

    This is Anakin Skywalker, on the edge.
  14. Chyntuck

    Chyntuck Force Ghost star 5

    Jul 11, 2014
    Saga – Best Short Story

    Ownership by Annia Piet

    This story takes place the morning after the battle of Yavin. Luke is coming to terms with everything that has happened, Han and Leia are bickering, and Artoo is refusing to have his ownership transferred to the Alliance. Here, Leia breaks news of the celebration ceremony to Luke and Han.

    "The Alliance leadership have decided that it would be appropriate to have a ceremony to remember the fallen and pay tribute to the heroes of the day." Her lips tweaked with amusement. "That's you. We're going to pin a medal on you." She broke out in a grin.

    "A... a medal? But... Do we really have time for that? The Empire could show up any moment."

    "We're pretty sure we have time before they get here. Everything's nearly ready to go anyway. We'll be able to leave straight afterward. And our people need this - to remember, and to celebrate."

    "But, but didn't we do that last night?" Luke's head was rapidly starting to pound again at the thought of being put up in front of all these people. It somehow... went against his upbringing. "And why me? They shouldn't be picking me out, everyone here brought us that victory."

    Han, still on the ramp, was laughing into his hand. "Told ya kid, you're the Hero of Yavin now. Like I said last night, you'll never escape from it now."

    Chewie guffawed loudly from the roof of the Falcon where he had been quietly listening while fiddling with the comms dish.

    "Thanks Han, you're really helping." Luke shot back at him.

    Leia smirked with amusement. "It's alright Luke, you won't be up there on your own. We've got a medal each for Han and Chewie too."

    "Wait, what?" Han exclaimed, stepping off the ramp at last. "I didn't sign up for being part of your propaganda nonsense!"

    "But you helped get the Death Star plans to us, saving countless lives." Leia looked very smug at getting a rise out of him.

    "Not to mention your role in the battle. It's only right we reward you too."

    "Now wait a minute..."

    * * *​

    About a Boy by Ewok Poet

    Every day is a struggle to stay alive for a nameless furry sentient youngling unaware of his species and origin, while he lives as a slave to a Yuzzum family.

    If only the Master hadn't punished him for stealing a shank of meat. If only! He could have slept in his usual place – in the larger cave that served as the colony's stable, with the rakazzak beasts. Even though they made constant rattling sounds, he would have been in a much warmer place, able to cover himself with hay and sleep until sunlight kissed his fur with its comforting warmth, – the only pleasant touch he ever knew.

    Exhausted from belly ache and still half-asleep, he crawled to the nearby stream and drank some water. It was colder than the night, colder than his belly and making him dizzy on empty stomach. He lay down on the cold pebbles, holding his head, squeaking. For a couple of moments, everything was spinning around him and he was close to screaming. Eventually, it all settled and he got on his knees and looked at his reflection in the stream.

    That brown-furred, black-eyed fuzzy creature never spoke to him, but he was still his best friend. He never hurt him, hit him, whipped him, forced him to eat something that he didn't like or make him lift stones and large chunks of wood. And he did not look like his owners either. They were tall, with oval bodies, thin long limbs and gigantic mouths. He was small and stubby, with bright eyes and a tiny nose, and he could tell his head from the rest of his body. He had fur growing on his arms and legs as well. It made his life as an ugly, abnormal creature that did not look like everyone else around him, a bit better. Perhaps there were more fuzzy ones like him in the plains and forests he would often look at from the top of the cliff.

    * * *​

    Opus Sixty-Six by Findswoman

    Selonian soprano Miarla Ligouri and her accompanist, the Twi’Lek Jefson Er’kap, both prisoners of the Empire, have been ordered to perform the Imperial anthem before the Emperor in his private auditorium. They offer protest by performing something completely different.

    The applause subsided. Jefson was sitting ready at the clavi-pian. Miarla turned and gave him a nod.

    An ethereal cresh-minor chord shimmered forth from the clavi-pian’s high register.

    Here, in the luminous, windswept dusk . . .

    Murmurs and whispers hissed across the auditorium. “Wait a minute . . . What’s going on . . . That’s not . . .”

    Now!” A crashing unison gave way to turbid, rumbling tremolo in the low register. “Before the strings of the vye are slashed . . .

    “What’s this?! How dare they!” The Emperor’s voice crackled above the ripple of murmurs. He turned to a corpulent advisor sitting nearby. “Vandron, what is this degenerate hogswill?!”

    “I . . . I don’t know, Sire . . . it sounds like maybe Ugon Sal-Stiller, or Lorne Bel Fiora, or someone else in the Second Corellian School—”

    Before the moons bleed to death . . .” Louder and louder grew the tremolo chords as they climbed higher and higher. “Before the hyperdrive of the day fails . . .

    Another advisor, an equus-faced man in a wide-brimmed black hat, chimed in. “It is Bel Fiora, Sire. From his opus-sixty-six Eskari Songs.

    Eskari?! That deranged, alien-loving—”

    The agitation of the tremolo gave way to a plangent, lyrical melody. “Give me your hand—O jebwa-petal-small!

    “Yes, Sire. Namajib Eskari and Lorne Bel Fiora were good friends, and Bel Fiora set several of Eskari’s poems to music—mostly as large orchestral and choral works, but he wrote the opus-sixty-six songs as a personal gesture shortly after Eskari’s death. They’re based on poems from The Vortex, Eskari’s very first—”

    “NO!!” The Emperor sprang to his feet. “GUARDS! SILENCE THEM! NOW!”

    * * *​

    The Song Hour by leiamoody

    Zizi retreated into the shadows behind the stage. His destination was a corner alcove near the kitchen, where an upturned delivery crate was set with a plate of confit de quadduck à la Coronetisi and the bottle of sherry he purchased from the rare antiquities dealer. Supposedly the bottle was found in a sealed vault deep within Coruscant, held for millennia by a skeleton. The story was most likely untrue, but the deep emerald smokeglass vessel reminded him of many years ago, when his four arms created similar items that charmed the heart of a Sacorrian girl. He wanted to remember that brief and shining time, instead of acknowledging that Mariklare had grown into a bitter woman who never had any choice in the direction of her life. The news he received that morning of her premature death from chronic ethanol poisoning (what other species including her own called “alcoholism”) forced him into undesired sadness. But that was the price of loving another being: light intertwined with darkness, pleasure intermingled with pain.

    Once amateur hour was completed, along with his meal, Zizi returned with The Midnight Princess to the stage and the eternal comfort of music.
  15. Chyntuck

    Chyntuck Force Ghost star 5

    Jul 11, 2014
    Saga – Best Series

    The Hanna Shirid Series by Cynical_Ben (Hanna's Story, Interlude - Mandalore) – Excerpts from chapter 16 of Hanna’s Story, this chapter of Interlude - Mandalore

    (From Hanna's Story)

    Hanna gritted her teeth, climbing back up to her feet. This again.

    “Your ship will fall.” The man said, voice far too calm for what Hanna was about to do to him. “You and your allies will die. And the Empire will be defeated.”

    Hanna decked him in the face with the hardest punch she could throw, knocking him into the wall and sending him tumbling to the floor. “You can shut up now.” She told him.

    What was that, Hanna? What's going on back there?”

    “We've got a stowaway back here.” Hanna reported, “I'm handling it.” She reached down and grabbed the man by the collar of his robe and dragged him up to eye level. “What did you do to the ship?” She asked, voice a harsh growl.

    “Brought it down.” The man's voice was weaker now, behind a broken nose and possible smashed teeth and gums. “I will bring you down.”

    Hanna slammed him against the wall, then planted her hand around his chin and forced his head back so he met her eyes. His face was just as horrible and scarred as the others' had been below on the planet, one scar in particular looking like part of his skull had been removed and then replaced. But his eyes still showed the pain when she dug her fingernails into his cheeks, drawing blood.

    “What. Did. You. Do?”

    “The coolant lines are shut off.” He groveled out, “And the engine override system is engaged to the console there. You cannot restart them without knowing the proper clearance code.”

    “And what's that?”

    He groaned again as her nails dug deeper. Then, he smiled. “Inside.” His hand went up to tap the side of his head. Then his hand went to her chest, and Hanna went flying again, backward into the engine housing. Her head hit metal, and everything went black.


    (From Interlude - Mandalore)

    The black beskar'gam was hers, almost exactly how she and Batiir had laid it out. Seven pieces, a top, a bottom, a helmet, her brand-new and brilliant pair of gloves and a pair of boots that had come from nowhere. All of them were shortened, re-shaped and re-forged to match her body, each one designed to fit with the ease and comfort of a silkweave stocking. Stuck on the breastplate with a simple adhesive was a short note on flimsiplast paper.

    “It's all finished,” She read, “Sorry to have to run out. Business is business. I even made you some boots, they're on the floor. Thank you again, ner vod, -B.”

    She smiled, put the note down, then picked up her new gloves and weighed them in her hands. They were heavy, but the fabric was soft and flexible, and the armor plating in them was the same cool, solid tempered beskar alloy she had become familiar with wearing over most of the rest of her body. The boots were much the same way, each boot made of durable armorweave and leather, and infused with armor plates that made them heavy, but also almost impossibly durable. The other two pieces, the top and bottom, together made a full armor set that she could slip in and out of as quickly as she could put on her shirt or pants. And of course, the helmet, just as she remember it, had been polished and all of the scars buffed out, all of the remnants of the abuse heaped upon it in the past.

    Her armor. It was her armor now.

    * * *​

    “He Ain’ Heavy, He’s my Brother” by JadeLotus (A Man of Honour, His Welfare Is My Concern, Respite) -- Excerpt from His Welfare Is My Concern

    He finally found Luke tending to his X-Wing on the far side of the hanger. Although wearing a flightsuit and diligently working on a tangle of circuits protruding from an access panel with the skillful application of a hydrospanner, Luke still had the appearance of a boy playing dress-up in his father’s clothes.

    “Hey, kid,” Han said as he approached, leaning on the ship’s hull beside where Luke was working.

    “Hey, Han.” A smile spread across Luke’s boyish features that made him look younger than his nineteen years. He was pale, and Han noticed that his forearms, visible from where the sleeves of the flightsuit were pushed up to his elbows, were pimpled with gooseflesh.

    “You cold?” Han asked.

    “A little,” Luke shrugged. “Although I’m glad to be off Yavin.”

    Han patted Luke’s shoulder in understanding. The jungle planet had been hot and humid, and Han couldn’t imagine how much of a shock to the system it had been for Luke. The kid had been raised in a desert after all, where any moisture in the air or ground had been sucked dry before it could manifest. Sticky, steamy Yavin must have seemed like the seventh Corellian hell for the poor boy.

    “Missing Tatooine, are you?” Han found himself asking. “You’d be the first person in history.”

    Luke laughed and closed the access panel before pivoting on one foot to lean against the hull of the ship next to Han. “You know, when I was there, all I wanted to be was out here - on a ship, among the stars,” he looked around the docking bay and smiled sadly. “And it’s great. But now that I’m here...all I can think of is home. Except home isn’t there anymore.”

    “You miss your aunt and uncle, huh?”

    “Yeah,” Luke said wistfully, leaning his head back against the ship’s hull. “They were good people - I mean, I wasn’t theirs by blood, but they still took me in. My Aunt used to say that someday I’d make my way out in the stars, and she’d do anything she could to help me get there, if that’s what I wanted - even though my Uncle wanted me to take over the moisture farm. She risked trouble in her marriage and was willing to sacrifice security in her later years so I would be happy.” Luke sighed wistfully. “I never had a mother, but Beru….” Luke trailed off and swallowed heavily as he visibly forced back tears. “Did you ever have anyone like that?” he asked as he turned to Han, almost in a plea for solidarity.

    Long buried memories came unbidden to the surface of Han’s mind; the old Wookiee Dewlanna who’d looked out for him from the age of nine when he’d first been taken into the service of Garris Shrike. Han forced back the memory of her lying in his arms as she bled out from the blaster wound in her chest; the injury she’d sustained saving his life. With her dying breath, she’d made Han promise to live and be happy. He’d been Luke’s age when it had happened, so he knew how it felt to lose the only person in the galaxy who gave a kriff about you. He could tell Luke about her; could share that memory with the boy desperate to hear it, but it was a wound poorly healed, and one Han feared re-opening. Because then he would have to admit that although he had kept the first part of his promise, the second part still eluded him.

    So instead, he just shook his head. “Nah.”
    * * *​

    The Tristan Kenobi Series by JediMaster_Jen (The Other Side of Betrayal, The Tristan Betrayal) – Excerpts from chapter 42 of The Tristan Betrayal and chapter 7 of The Other Side of Betrayal

    These two fics tell the story of Tristan Kenobi, son of Obi-Wan and Siri and apprentice to Anakin; his rise as a Jedi Knight and his fall to the dark side.

    (From The Tristan Betrayal)

    “You have a serious attitude problem,” Anakin pointed out. “You’re always angry, distant, and abrupt when anyone tries to speak with you. I want to know what is going on with you, Tris.”

    Tristan laughed humorlessly. “What’s going on with me? Nothing, Master. Nothing at all. I keep going on mission after mission for the council. I keep watching you dote on Luke, Leia and Arik. Why is it that he’s named after my father?”

    Anakin was confused. “Where is that coming from?”

    Tristan paced. “I’ve just always wondered. Luke is named after my father. My father, whom I never met. Where were you when he was killed?”

    Anakin was becoming angry himself. He took a deep breath and tried to understand why Tristan was angry; why now.

    “You know where I was, and you know why,” Anakin said softly, trying desperately to defuse the situation.

    Tristan scoffed. “Oh, that’s right. You were walking a droid to a ship while my father was being murdered. All these years and I finally see. You’ve always questioned me. You’ve never allowed me the freedom to choose for myself. You forbid me to see Riema. It’s because of you I don’t have a father!”


    (From The Other Side of Betrayal)

    Anakin couldn’t believe his eyes as he took in the appearance of his former apprentice. Tristan’s eyes were still the same blue-gray they’d been since the moment they’d met, but unlike when Tristan was a child and his eyes held warmth and trust, now they held only coldness and hatred.

    He was clad from head to toe in black and Anakin didn’t miss the lightsaber hanging from his belt.

    “Loss for words, Master?” Tristan questioned as he slowly moved from Darex’s side. He walked a slow circle around his former mentor; Anakin turning with him.

    “You really shouldn’t be surprised, Anakin,” Tristan continued to taunt.

    “What’s happened to you?” Anakin asked. “You were…”

    “I was a fool!” Tristan yelled as he ignited his lightsaber.

    Darex and Tristan both grinned in delight at the look of shock on Anakin’s face as the red glow of the lightsaber crossed his face.

    “I was a fool, Anakin,” Tristan repeated as he twirled the lightsaber in his hand. “When my mother was dying, she told me the Jedi would be my new family, that you would be my new family.”

    “We are your family, Tris,” Anakin said, his hand now resting on his own weapon.

    “No!” Tristan yelled. “No, you never treated me the same as Leia or Arik and definitely not the same as Luke. My uncle, he could have been my family, but I…”

    “You what?” Anakin asked.

    The young man grinned. “He wasn’t worthy; not of me and not of my father. He was given the ending he deserved.”

    Anakin’s heart fell into his stomach. “What did you do?”

    Still twirling his lightsaber, Tristan laughed. “I killed him. He didn’t deserve to live. He hated my father. He was arrogant and rude and I…I hated him.”

    Anakin closed his eyes; a flood of tears coursing down his cheeks.

    “Such emotion, Master,” Tristan taunted. “You hated him, too. I know you did.”

    “When did I lose you, Tris?” Anakin whispered when he opened his eyes.

    “Riema,” Tristan whispered her name. “She loved me, but you forbid it. She sent me a letter. She knew you thought her dangerous. It was your fault. All of it. My father dying, my uncle coming here, the little padawan I killed testing…it’s all your fault, Anakin. You did this. You made me!”

    * * *​

    The Jaye Tatsu Series by Shira A'dola ("Here's How It Started", I Rise, Mondo)

    “Admirals don’t have bedtimes!” Jaye protested, folding his arms huffily. “They can go to bed whenever they want to. No one tells them what to do.”

    Leda smiled faintly and leaned against the doorframe. “On the contrary, even Admirals have a higher authority giving them orders. Even your father answers to someone of a higher rank. You have to learn to follow orders if you expect to be an officer. There’s no room for rogues or rebels in the Empire, is there?”

    Jaye blushed, remembering his schooling on the Rebels from his lessons earlier in the day. “No, mama.”

    “Precisely. So what would a good officer do if he was told to go to bed?”

    Jaye lowered his head. “He would go to bed without any protest.”

    Leda nodded her head and walked over to her children. “Exactly. Now go to bed, it’s very late. Your father comes home on leave tomorrow and you will all have lots of stories to tell. But until then, you need to sleep.”


    “Here’s how it started,” Jaye began, brushing his black hair from his eyes. “I was - “ His mother’s hand cut him off abruptly. “But mother, I - !“ Again, she raised her hand to cut him off, casting a stern look his way.

    “None of your stories this time, Jaye. I want the truth. No embellishments, no bias, just the facts.”

    “I didn’t even say anything yet!” the teenager protested, his yellow eyes flashing with irritation.

    Leda smiled slightly, a hint of amusement on the corners of her lips. “You didn’t have to. You forget that I am your mother and I’ve known you for sixteen years now. I know you better than you would like to admit. Now, are you going to tell me the truth?”

    Jaye’s shoulders drooped slightly in defeat as he dropped his gaze to the floor. “Nika said mixed races don’t get into the Empire’s armed forces unless they’re common Stormtroopers.”


    “Admiral Tatsu, the ISD Victorious is now yours. Treat her well and glory to the Empire!”

    “Glory to the Empire,” Jaye repeated, bowing to the Fleet Admiral. “Thank you.” The superior officer nodded and walked away, leaving Jaye to follow his new captain to the bridge. He took a second to let it fully sink in: he was an admiral with his own ship. This is a historic day, he thought to himself. After all this time, after all he had gone through, he was finally here.

    Does my sassiness upset you?
    Why are you beset with gloom?
    ’Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
    Pumping in my living room.

    A small, sly grin lit upon his face as he looked down the grey corridor. Memories of his childhood came to mind, memories of playing Admiral as a young boy. He had ached for his own ship since before he could remember. Desire had led to intense schooling. Years upon years of mathematics, engineering, strategy, sociology. The classes had gone on and on. But he’d put all of his effort and hard work into his studies, both the lectures and the practical classes. He’d exceeded every expectation.

    “Admiral?” The captain next to him spoke up tentatively. “If you’ll follow me, the bridge is this way.”

    He started off down on end of the corridor, Jaye walking next to him. He didn’t need a guide; he knew every inch of this ship. But he was going to savour every bit of this moment.

    * * *​

    The Alexis Wentlas Series by whiskers (Breakout, Survival Instinct, Surviving Hope)

    Alexis didn't look back to see how far she was from her crashed airspeeder. She didn't out of fear; fear that if she looked back she'd see just how close she still was to the speeder. Her eyes stayed forward, preferring to see how far she had to go. A small voice whispered in the back of her head. "You can't make it," it said as it had said many times before in the hour that she had been walking. "Not with him, at least." The doubt chewed at her insides. She gave in to it for a second, glancing up at Hoth's same-named star in the sky above. It was already perilously close to being 3/4 of its way to the journey. A quick mental estimate gave her about three, maybe four hours until night fall. She could make it back to Echo Base in that time easily, she thought.

    If there still was an Echo Base to get back to... If there weren't any snowtroopers and walkers patrolling the area for stragglers such as herself... If... If... If... That word haunted her, pulling at her with even more weight than the injured rebel that she was dragging. She would find out when she got there, she told herself.

    She passed the last mountain nearly two hours later. The sun beaming through the open plains and warming her body and spirit after a half hour of walking through the artificial twilight. The smoke in the distance chilled it again. Kilometers ahead she could see the remains of the base's shield, the metal of the outer cylinders blown outwards. Smoke poured from the mangled forms. Destroyed Imperial walkers littered the field, their several meter long legs buckled under themselves and the large square hulls sticking diagonally into the air.

    * * *​

    The ANH Infinities Series by whiskers (Dignity, Rebirth, Routine Mission)

    The door hissed open, a harsh rush of air entered the prison cell and blew the folds of her stained white robes lightly. The dark and demonic figure that stood in front of her had once frightened her as it did almost every other sane being in the galaxy. Now his raspy artificial breath and tusked helmet sent no feeling over her save for relief. It would all be over soon.

    "Mon Mothma," Darth Vader said. His voice was a metallic bass that reverberated throughout the small room. "It's time."

    She stood from her cot and straightened her robes as best she could. Mon Mothma closed her eyes and took as deep a breath as she dared with her bruised ribs. "Lead the way, Lord Vader."

    The walk from the Imperial Palace's to the nearby Monument Plaza was long and she feared that her legs would give out from under her, sending her frail form sprawling onto the ground. The Imperials that watched her from the lens of the holocam droid that hovered in front of them would have loved that sight, she thought, the leader of the fallen and scattered Rebellion utterly humiliated. One last thing before her death that would make their cause the laughingstock of the galaxy and add to the futility of it all. She would not give them that pleasure.
  16. Chyntuck

    Chyntuck Force Ghost star 5

    Jul 11, 2014
    Saga – Best Interpretation of a Canon Character

    Obi-Wan Kenobi in Turn Your Face to the Sun by JadeLotus

    "Imagine the desert," I instructed, thinking it would be easier for him to visualize. "Barren and lifeless – completely empty. Imagine your mind is the desert."

    "Okay." Luke closed his eyes and I let several minutes pass before I asked him if his mind was clear.

    "No," he told me unhappily.

    "Did you picture the desert as I asked?"

    "Yes." Luke wrung his little hands, looking frustrated.

    "So where did your thoughts go then?"

    "Well I saw the desert," Luke explained, dragging out the last syllable. "But it wasn't empty at all like you said. I saw the suns that go up and down every day, and the sand that blows everywhere making new dunes, and the crawlers and bantha herds and sometimes Sandpeople calling to each other and sarlaccs under the ground waiting to snatch someone up and…"

    "Alright, Luke," I squeezed his shoulder. "I understand."

    "Did I do it wrong?" Luke's eyes filled with tears.

    I thought about what you would have said to the boy, Qui-Gon. If it had been Anakin I would have told him yes, that he had completely missed the point of the exercise. But I am older now, and I hope wiser. I look at this barren planet and see nothing but wastes – Luke sees life and possibility.

    "No, you didn't do it wrong," I told him. "You showed me how I was wrong – of course the desert is full of life. It shows lateral thinking."


    "It's a good thing," I assured him. "But let's try the exercise again, but this time, imagine you're in a dark room, with no light, no sound, nothing."

    "Why am I in the room?" Luke asked, his eyes wide. "Did I do something bad?"

    It is a struggle, Qui-Gon, let me tell you.

    * * *​

    Obi-Wan Kenobi in A Chosen Path by KELIA

    New Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi is shocked to be given a “top secret” mission by Yoda to continue the training of the long sought “chosen one”. The chosen one who’s been secretly training with a colleague of Yoda’s without the Council’s knowledge or supervision.

    Obi-Wan must figure out how to pick up where Anakin’s previous teacher left off and learn how to prepare Anakin for the fight of his life against an unknown enemy – an enemy Anakin senses is on Coruscant, though he can’t pin-point exactly where or who it is.

    An enemy who also senses Anakin is near and is preparing to destroy him and the entire Jedi Order.

    * * *​

    Sly Moore in An Unexpected Surprise by KELIA

    Sly Moore began crossing the room, stopping abruptly when she spotted an elaborately decorated package sitting in the center of her desk. “What the -,” her lips twisted into a sneer as she recognized the festive Winter Solstice symbols intertwined with glittering red and green bursts of color.

    “When I get my hands on the dim witted, slemo, e-chu-ta responsible for this,” she hissed, her hands clenching.

    She took the gift, shredding the carefully wrapped paper into tiny pieces revealing an even more revoltingly decorated gift box that almost had her gagging. “I must speak to the Emperor about outlawing this ridiculous holiday,” she thought ripping off the top.

    “You’ve got to be kidding,” she spat lifting a soft bundle wrapped in layers of tissue paper held together by a ribbon. She pulled the ribbon apart, allowing its remnants to fall to the floor along with the paper.

    Her eyes widened as she held up a long, plain blue robe of coarse fabric. “Hmmmm,” she shook the robe marveling at its simplicity. “It’s practical, not gawdy,” she thought rubbing the fabric between her fingers enjoying the red marks it left.

    “Not at all comfortable….It’s perfect!” The corners of her mouth twitched, almost forming a smile before she stopped herself. “I don’t need a new robe,” she reminded herself, “still...,” she paused, glancing back at the garment. “I could use it so it would’t be a complete waste and it’s not like I can return it.” Her decision made, she quickly stuffed the robe into a drawer. “Perhaps this silly tradition isn’t so bad after all.”

    * * *​

    Yoda in It's a Drabble! SW Edition by Poe Drabbleron (Admiral Drabblar)

    A Line in the Mud

    "Remove your muddy boots you must," Yoda ordered, "if you want to enter this house!"

    Luke spent almost a minute staring alternately down at his feet and across to the old Jedi. He said, "Master Yoda, your floors are already bare dirt. Surely-"

    "Bare, clean, dirt!" shouted Yoda. "Take great care with my cleaning I do! Every year, whether this floor needs it or not, I rake it thoroughly!"

    "Apologies, Master."

    Yoda harrumphed. "Forgiven you are." He grinned mischievously. "Up now, another year is. Go to my shed. My smallest rake you must find. But remove those muddy boots first!"


    The Path You Take

    Yoda gestured into a heavily overgrown section of the swamp. "Follow this path," he instructed. "Deep in the wood, diverges it does."

    "Diverges?" Luke asked. "I have to choose which path to take?"

    Yoda nodded.

    "Should I take the one less traveled by?" Seeing Yoda's glare, he mumbled, "It's something my uncle used to say."

    "The path more traveled you should take; a trap the other is. A creature made it, to lure prey. Avoid it now, most animals do. Follow their example."

    Luke grabbed his pack and headed for the path. Behind him, Yoda shouted, "Unless lying I am!"

    * * *​

    Obi-Wan Kenobi in A Different Path by SkalenFehl
  17. Chyntuck

    Chyntuck Force Ghost star 5

    Jul 11, 2014
    Saga – Best Original Character

    Zizi Pao in The Song Hour by leiamoody

    Zizi Pao conducts a Love Song Sing-A-Long in his restaurant, and this particular night sings about the downside of love.

    Zizi strummed the opening notes of a long favorite tune. “I shall begin tonight’s session with a folk song traditionally attributed to Panhalion, the most famous troubadour of the Republic Classic era. He traveled the space lanes, going everywhere playing music in honor of his beloved, a Queen of Naboo whose name is lost to history.” His chuckle was accompanied by a slight whistle, an unfortunate but occasional sound which resulted from a species whose native language included squeaks trying to speak fluent Basic. He shrugged, then hummed the opening notes of “Under the Five Moons of Dornay”, a ballad which matched the evening’s theme. Many nights the songs of love were a celebration of the grand emotion. Tonight was not appropriate for such an exalted state. The death of a long-ago beloved placed sadness into Zizi’s heart, so tonight’s songs would be about the downside of the Grand Emotion. “Panhalion moved from star to star telling everyone who listened about the life and loss of his beloved queen…” he took a deep breath “…who I shall name ‘Mariklare” for the sake of our lyrical narrative.” A momentary quiet permeated the tapcafe, as everyone settled down for the next hour.

    Zizi took a deep breath, opened his mouth and began to sing…

    While his words told of a love struck young man hoping for reunion with his beloved, Zizi’s mind wandered to another story. In this tale another troubadour, but also sculptor, first met a beautiful woman on a planet ruled by xenophobia and oppression.

    * * *​

    Aala Naberrie in Fallen by serendipityaey

    Aala and Obi-Wan clash when he tries to help her while she's undercover. Though she thinks she's upset because he believes she can't do the job alone, there's really a lot more going on beneath the surface when it comes to her feelings for Obi-Wan.

    Aala ignored him as he tried to get her attention, pretending to want to order another drink. She even tried to ignore him when he cornered her in a back storage room where she was looking for alcohol to restock.

    Seething, she tried to brush past him to leave, but his frame blocked most of the doorway. Obi-Wan grabbed her upper arm, to stop her, to get her to look at him. She tried to wriggle out of his grasp but he tightened his grip and he forced her back into the room, the door sliding shut behind him.

    "What are you doing?" she hissed at him, finally meeting his commanding stare.

    "Trying to help you," he answered, his voice low and controlled.

    Aala saw that flash in his eyes again, though, as she tried to yank her arm away from him, but his grip was unyielding. He took a measured step forward forcing her back into a shelf of supplies.

    "I don't need help, you arrogant –"

    "There's been an – incident." His steel gaze was unflinching, his face the picture of calm control as she stared him down, her temper long gone.

    "What are you talking about?"

    "Your contact. It just hit the holonet, he's wanted on Corellia for assault and attempted murder."

    "Well, is he guilty?" she challenged him.

    "It was... it sounds like it was a tavern fight. He took off before the authorities arrived."

    "Any number of things could have happened. That doesn't make him a cold-blooded killer."

    "He's dangerous."

    "He's Corellian. That's what makes him a good informant. Trouble finds him no matter where he is. We're lucky he's on our side."

    Obi-Wan finally let go of her arm, his hand going to his chin. "People change, Aala. He's a wanted man."

    * * *​

    Raede Kolinkar in Half the Battle by Thumper09

    Lieutenant Raede Kolinkar got ready for duty with all the enthusiasm of a Hutt going ballroom dancing. The uniform never quite fit right, but the cut of the fabric was really the least of his concerns.

    The Rebel fleet trooper shrugged on his black combat vest over his light blue shirt. The vest hung limply from his shoulders, draped on his gawky frame that still hadn’t recovered the peak muscle tone and health his body had had when he’d been attending the Imperial Army Officer Academy on Raithal just a few months ago. Kolinkar pulled the belt on his grey pants one hole tighter, and then shoved on his scuffed, third-hand boots. His holster sagged awkwardly from his hips, holding the DH-17 blaster that was the most comfortable, familiar part of this whole get-up. Lastly he put in his earpiece and then plopped the large white clamshell helmet on his head. He adjusted it to be marginally straighter and then buckled his chinstrap.

    Like always, he did all this without the aid of a mirror. The last thing he wanted to do was see a reflection of himself.

    * * *​

    Galen Wentlas in Empire Day by whiskers

    Clones in their perfect white armor walked down the passages along with the numerous officers of the Republic--Imperial--Navy in their olive-green uniforms. Galen tried to read the expressions on the faces of his fellow officers, but most were far too excited with the end of the long war. Excitement coursed through his own mind, too. He had lost so many friends, classmates and even a relationship over the course of the three years, and yet the news he had just heard had immediately dampened his happiness.

    A clone trooper different from the others walked down the passage way, Phase II armor marked with red stripes along the arms and shoulders. A leather half-kilt hung from his waist. "Captain Milcan," Galen said as he approached the soldier. "Can I speak with you, please?"

    The ARC trooper removed his helmet, revealing a face indistinguishable from the other clones save for two short mohawks shaved at the sides of his head. "Lieutenant Wentlas, what do you need?"

    Galen looked around the hallway at the thinning crowd of people. "Were you there when it happened?"

    Milcan's brow pursed. "There when what happened?"

    "The Jedi..."

    The ARC trooper's face went blank. "You don't want to be talking about that, Lieutenant."

    Galen shook his head. He needed to know, no matter the cost. "What happened with the Jedi down there?"

    The clone's hand grabbed the front of his uniform and shaved him violently into the wall. Milcan leaned so close to Galen that the young officer could smell the mess hall's excuse for solan sauce upon his breath. "You don't want to be talking about that, Wentlas. Orders come down and orders get carried out, simple as that."

    Galen remained defiant despite the pain in his back. "That simple to kill a young boy?"
  18. Chyntuck

    Chyntuck Force Ghost star 5

    Jul 11, 2014
    Saga – Best Villain

    Padmé Amidala in What History Will Say of Us by AngelQueen

    He is practically vibrating with energy. He is eager for the battle, no, the slaughter that is to come. She has no illusions about his and his troops’ intentions. The Hutts will be brought to heel through fire and blood. The days of diplomacy are long gone. 

    Yet, there is more to his zeal. His eyes rake her body, and she has no illusions as to the other origins of his excitement. Even in all the ways he has changed, he still desires her touch. 

    To her, it is another method of control. 

    She lets him pull her against his body, lets him kiss her, lets him rake his fingers, both those made of flesh and those made of metal, through her hair, shaking the pins out and letting them fall to the floor. When he pushes her against the wall, she doesn’t fight him, just lets him cover her in heated kisses. 

    It is over quickly enough, thankfully. Her voice is steady when she speaks, showing no sign of their previous activities. “Go, my lord, and enlighten the Hutts to my… displeasure. Tell them the Empress desires freedom for all living beings in the galaxy, and if they wish to continue to live in good health, they will see the… merits of my position.” 

    Her words are so bloodthirsty, so cruel, and yet he finds nothing wrong with them.

    * * *​

    The Wanderer in Snowed In by Ewok Poet – Excerpt from chapter 19 and chapter 20

    Upon luring him into his lair, the Wanderer, a creature strong in nature powers, attempts to turn Teebo to the Night Spirit and make him his personal assassin. He previously captured Wicket and Paploo and is holding them captive.

    Teebo dropped to his knees, trying to channel energy from all of his limbs to the gem. Nothing.

    "It…it doesn’t work!"

    "Of course it doesn’t, you fool." A raspy voice said, in a mocking tone. "It’s a painted stone from the river!"

    Before he turned around, Teebo looked at Wicket again. The expression in his friend’s face was like nothing he had seen before. Seconds later, he was face to face with the monstrous being behind all of the recent events. And this being had just grabbed his wrist and scratched him.

    "The sweet taste of youth, innocence and the strongest nature powers I have ever tasted in a creature’s blood. Dare I welcome you? I have been waiting for you for a while now." The Wanderer's gnarly hand drew a rounded shape in the air. "Once the light from the Gorax King shines on the black circle, my powers will reach their full potential. And you, you will be mine!"


    "There is no such thing as never." The Wanderer laughed. "I am very persistent. Remember earlier today? When your caring master reached out to you and his word echoed in your head? He told you to be careful because there are powerful wizards who can reach out to foolish young apprentices, too." He mockingly imitated Logray’s voice. "He loves you and respects your powers so much, doesn’t he? Doesn’t he?"

    Teebo’s green eyes suddenly flashed yellow.

    "It was you!" He pulled out the axe. "You wanted me to leave my duty and come here, at your feet!"

    The Wanderer was calm.

    "Know what else? I like anger. You are most certainly angry. Go ahead. I can even help you. See, you are holding that axe backwards. If you want to kill me, you need to hold it right."

    * * *​

    The unnamed telepath in Need to Know by Lazy K

    "What was it like on the drop ship?" he asks. "Did the troops talk among themselves? Were there any pre-drop rituals you noticed?"

    Again I feel it, his mind probing mine. It feels like he is scraping a finger down my skin, trying to find the edge of an almost-faded scab. I want to resist it, but the problem is that it is not altogether unpleasant. A part of me wants to remember what happened so I can be whole again. And since I can't recall specifics, I have little more than a vague notion that I should not.

    "Inside your helmet. Is it cold? Is it warm? Is there a faint smell that penetrates the air filter? Is it sweat? Lubricants? Exhaust fumes?"

    As he speaks, emitters attached to my bare scalp induces false signals in carefully selected areas of my brain and I am assaulted by seemingly random stimuli. With these he hopes to start a memory cascade, a chain reaction of one recovered memory triggering the next, eventually leading to the details of my mission.
  19. Chyntuck

    Chyntuck Force Ghost star 5

    Jul 11, 2014
    Saga – Best Canon Relationship

    Luke Skywalker and Mara Jade in Crossing Enemy Lines by EmeraldJediFire and WarmNyota_SweetAyesha

    "I've been tasked to get vital information from you. I could report I was unsuccessful, but that would not help either of us."

    "And I should care about your grand and illustrious career, why?"

    "You have no reason to. But I do care about you. That was always above-board, Mara."

    Mara scowled. Her Force-sense was telling her she could believe that at least. She didn't want to believe him out of sentimentality, only.

    Mara began to shrug out of her clothing but realized Luke hadn’t left her in peace as she wished.

    “Are you going to stand there and watch me like some voyeur?”

    “The thought had crossed my mind.” He said nonchalantly. “but no that’s not why I’m staying here. Please proceed. There’s much that needs discussing before I leave this room.”

    She looked irked at his suggestion she undress in front of him.

    He sighed and turned around.

    “Is this better?”

    “Much.” She retorted.

    “You think I’m enjoying this…look I don’t have time…we don’t. I need you to get in the tub so we can get this out of the way.”

    A gasp.

    “Get what out of the way?!”

    “Not that.” He snapped, whirling around.

    He stopped dead in his tracks. Mara was mostly nude and about to enter the tub. He simply stared at her for a long while; not being able to drag his eyes from her exposed form.

    “Why don’t you take a holo, it will last you longer.” She said sardonically.

    “Just get in.” He said angrily - more at his instinctive reaction of desire than anything else.

    When she didn’t comply, he sighed and turned his head away once more. He listened to the shuffling of clothes then the sound of water sloshing around as she got into the tub before he turned back around.

    * * *​

    Teebo and Latara in Snowed In by Ewok Poet – Excerpt from chapter 17

    After Teebo saves Latara from a possessed gurreck, she teases him, prompting him to finally confess his love to her. Their inconsistent flirting heads towards a relationship at the worst of the times, before they go to meet their doom.

    "But it would kill me before that?" Latara smirked, "Are you trying to present this as an act of mercy for the animal, as opposed to rescuing me?" She pulled her hand from Teebo’s and brushed it against the snow. He pulled a strange face and, for a moment, she feared that he would snap at her.

    "No! What else do I have to do to explain this to you? Nothing in this world matters to me more than you do! I love you!"

    Latara’s angry pout turned to a smile. She then giggled, in a semi-teasing, semi-hysterical manner. Teebo looked at his feet and then awkwardly smiled back at her. With her fur kissed by dozens of snowflakes, even amidst fear, she looked more beautiful than ever. Three nights ago was happening all over again, in the worst possible moment. And this time, he blurted out everything that was on his mind without any preparation for it. How could it be that she did not believe his words, when he was straight to the point, for once?

    "You have a huge snowflake on your nose." He managed to utter, swallowing a lump.

    "No, I don’t." she leaned on him, "You want to kiss me again and you were looking for yet another of those romantic situations. Right?"

    "R-right." he almost frowned, just as she pressed her lips against his and whispered.

    "T’hesh…for once. Please."

    This time, the kiss was brief, but intense. Once again, the snow was falling just like three nights before, but the animal carcass, the pool of its blood, stench in the air in its proximity, a mishmash of footprints and the unusually large and bright star in an otherwise starless night sky were painting a completely different picture.

    * * *​

    Jango and Boba Fett in The Father by gaarastar58

    This piece of flash fiction shows the tender moment when Jango meets his son for the first time. Enjoy!

    * * *​

    Kanan Jarrus and Hera Syndulla in Apologies and Observations by Jags_Scoundrel

    Hera stared out at the starlit, grassy plain where the Ghost was parked, seemingly lost in thought. A spark seemed to light in her eyes, and she turned her gaze back to Kanan. "Okay, tell me then... what would you have done if I were the only property you had to bet?"

    His eyes widened in horror at the thought. "What? I - No!" he spluttered, trying to keep the images that his fears had brought forth when he had to leave her on Azmorigan's ship from springing to life in his mind's eye once again. "There are so many things wrong with that idea, I don't even know where to begin!"

    "Well, try, love. I really want to hear them."

    "First of all, you are not property! The thought of anyone treating you that way makes my stomach turn and my blood boil."

    "Go on," she encouraged.

    His tone softened. "I would never take a chance like that with you. No matter how much the odds were in my favor. Not for all the credits in the galaxy."

    Wordlessly, she continued to stare at him. One eyebrow finally quirked up as she waited for him to make the connection.

    Which he finally did. "And I shouldn't have done that with Chopper."

    "No, you shouldn't have."

    "But, I don't... feel the same way about Chopper as I do for you." Love. Why was it so hard for him to say that word?

    She smiled patiently at him. "No, I would suppose not. But he is a member of this crew just as much as any of us are. He's family, Kanan."

    * * *​

    Luke Skywalker and Mara Jade in Can't Look Away by Kahara

    In this AU, Mara Jade left the Empire much earlier than in the books. Luke and Mara are working together as members of the Rebellion, while also beginning to realize their unexpected feelings for each other.

    She can see the smoke of her words hanging in the air, caught and frozen for an instant in Hoth’s eternal winter before they fade. The words that she doesn’t use, too, written in the spaces between. “Afraid” is something that she will never say and never let anyone make her, no matter what. Ever.

    “Oh. That.”

    “That.” The stinging in her eyes is so easy to blame on the cold. Mara looks up when she feels a breeze of the Force playing at the hood of her jacket, drawing out a few flyaway strands of ginger hair that have escaped from their usual braid. Mara is fairly certain that Luke doesn’t even realize he does this sometimes when they meet. Just the soft brush of a summer wind against her face, as if to check that she’s really there and in one piece. She’s never mentioned it, in all truth embarrassed that she doesn’t want him to not do it again.

    Her own usual means of greeting Luke is a little more prosaic. She likes to sneak up and suddenly activate the Force connection between them – one that her teachers say is unusually powerful for one between two Jedi Padawans who live mostly separate existences. It’s still amusing to make him jump, just as it was in the early days of their friendship. But actually part of it’s the fact that even with the startlement, he visibly lights up at the surprise. Mara can’t remember anyone ever looking so pleased just to see her face.

    * * *​

    Luke Skywalker and Beru Whitesun-Lars in Forget Me Not by Sara_Kenobi

    * * *​
    Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi in Hypothetically Speaking by skygawker

    Anakin poses a not-entirely-hypothetical question to his former master after Ahsoka chooses to leave the Order; Obi-Wan cannot quite understand why he asked it (set after Season 5 of TCW).

    "No," Anakin said. "I think it doesn't matter. So what if she had killed that woman? She was just a Padawan, she was allowed to make mistakes. She should have been given a second chance, not kicked out and left to be executed."

    Obi-Wan's eyebrows lifted. "Make mistakes? There's rather a large difference between, say, disobeying an order or accidentally offending a diplomat, and murdering someone who didn't attack you first. One reflects errors in judgment and lack of experience, the other shows an inability to follow one of our Code's most basic tenets and a dangerous tendency toward the dark side. The Council wouldn't have excommunicated her for a mere mistake, Anakin!"

    Anakin twitched. "I see," he said quietly. "A dangerous tendency toward the dark side..." He trailed off and looked away, not meeting Obi-Wan's eyes. After a few moments, his head snapped back around. "And what if it had been me, Master?" he asked, eyes flashing with something Obi-Wan couldn't quite read.

    Obi-Wan wasn't entirely sure where this was going. "What if it had been you what?"

    "Me who had done what Ahsoka was accused of." Anakin spoke quickly, his words almost tripping over each other. "What if, what if when I was a padawan, I had gotten really angry because someone had hurt me or people I cared about, and killed them in revenge. Would you have wanted me kicked out of the Order, or just stood by while the Council found me guilty and sent me off to a trial, or what? What would you have done?"

    "Er," said Obi-Wan.
  20. Chyntuck

    Chyntuck Force Ghost star 5

    Jul 11, 2014
    Saga – Best Original Relationship

    I-Five and Magash Drashi in The Chronicles of I-5YQ by Ewok_Slayer

    I-5YQ, a sentient Human Replica Droid and Magash Drashi, a Dathomiri witch, are canon characters from the novel The Last Jedi. In my story they are good friends and I-5YQ wants to help her assimilate into a society where men are not slaves, but equals.

    “If you want to overcome your childhood conditioning you can. You can have a life like Sacha and Jax have.”

    She shook her head, unconvinced. “How?”

    I thought about it and an idea came to me. I leaned forward in my chair and stared deeply into her eyes. “Have you ever heard of exposure therapy?”

    Her brow furrowed as she contemplated the question. “No, what is it?”

    “It is when a person is exposed to an object or situation that gives them discomfort. They are exposed in a way that there is no danger and these exposures increase in duration until the person no longer experiences anxiety.”

    She looked completely confused. “You wish to expose men to me?”

    I laughed as I leaned back in my chair. “That is not exactly what I have in mind, but it is close. Being around men regularly can change your perception of them. Already your contact with Jax has made you want to change your Dathomiri ways. This shows you are receptive to exposure therapy.”

    “But not in a bonding way,” she pointed out. “Friends is one thing, but entering a romantic relationship and becoming a monogamous mate to a man is another thing entirely.”

    “True,” I said with a nod. “But if you are slowly introduced to associating with a male, doing pre-mating rituals such as dancing, dinner…hugging, kissing…maybe you can overcome your aversion to bonding with a male.”

    Her eyes narrowed. “Where would I find a male for such an experiment?”

    My droid brain is obviously still malfunctioning because the next thought that popped into my mind was outlandish. “I’d volunteer to help.”

    * * *​

    Luke Skywalker and Kess Lendra in Living Legend : Book 1 by Kess Banta

    * * *​

    Zizi Pao and Mariklare Trindello in The Song Hour by leiamoody

    At some point Mariklare came to visit the artist/musician at his studio, first accompanied by her mother but eventually alone (in disguise). Something that resembled a love affair blossomed between them. The offworlder who happened to be a blue-furred, four-armed alien was never certain if the human girl found his artistic life more fascinating than the fact he was another species. But within his studio and living quarters the alien sculptor and human noble discovered a mutual fondness that grew and flourished.

    Zizi’s voice rose as he began “The Cycle of Ithassa”, a sextet of ballads that chronicled another doomed love affair derived from the poetry of Sumi Zanthe. Such matters of the heart could not last forever, because two beings inhabiting the same plane could also reside in two separate worlds.

    It was no different for the sculptor/musician and the noblewoman. Of course her father and the artist’s patron discovered their affair. Yvar Trindello placed his daughter under house arrest, while the artist was escorted under armed guard to the spaceport and placed on a one-way shuttle to Corellia. The heartbroken artist found his way to a planet in The Colonies, where he renounced sculpture and devoted himself to the only other creative pursuit that could never perpetually remind him of a fair-haired, blue-eyed, rosy-lipped lost love.

    * * *​

    The narrator and Versé in Versé, transformed into a flower by Pandora

    I don’t know how long I have been standing here, hovering alongside her coffin-boat, watching over her. We are all watching her, hidden in our dark winter cloaks. None of us has once dared to break the glasssmooth air by speaking—I can only hear the faint breeze of the woman breathing next to me, and a slight rustling sound.

    I imagine that it comes from the twitch of the dead woman’s skirts, but I know that it isn’t so, and that it is likely, certainly, the leaves shaking on the trees in the shadow-blurred darkness behind us. I might like to attempt to write poetry, but I’ve never confused a pretty daydreamed image with reality.

    When she was alive, the woman’s name was Versé. That is one of the very few things I know about her. I never met her. But then, most of the other women here wouldn’t have known her either. We didn’t come here for that reason.

    * * *​

    Raissa Baiard and Doran Blayne in In the Cards by Raissa Baiard – Excerpt from chapter 3

    Doran tossed her a two meter length of bamboo. Baiard cocked an eyebrow at him. "It's a stick."

    "Wrong!" He twirled his own piece of bamboo. "It's a staff. We'll be practicing with them tonight."

    "I'm pretty sure I know how to use one already."

    Doran grinned like a deranged tooka and flipped her one of the Café's green napkins tied in a loop. "Blindfolded?"

    "Excuse me?"

    "Those interminable drills weren't the only way they taught us to rely on the Force.... Since we only have one lightsaber, I thought we could spar with staves instead." His grin widened. "Onderronian bamboo is light, so it shouldn't hurt too much when you get hit."

    Now he had Baiard's interest. "Oh, you think you can hit me?"

    "I'm not going to be blindfolded."

    At first, Doran tried tapping Baiard with his staff, but she pushed up her blindfold and glared at him. "Doran, the softest instructor at Carida would have hit me harder than that. Try it again, and stop pulling your blows."

    He stepped back... The idea of hitting a blind opponent full force sounded only slightly more honorable than shooting giju in a barrel. "Maybe after you've had more practice. I don't want to hurt..." Baiard gave him the look she reserved for her least intelligent subordinates.

    "If you're going to do this, do it right." Her eyes narrowed. "Doran, if you're doing this out of some misguided sense of chivalry...."

    By way of answer, Doran flicked his staff twice, knocking hers out of her hands and giving her a sharp swat on the backside.

    Baiard's mouth twisted into a wry smile. "I suppose I asked for that, but I'm still going to get you back." She picked up her staff, dropping into a defense stance. "Bring it, Blayne."

    * * *​

    Obi-Wan Kenobi and Aala Naberrie in Fallen by serendipityaey

    After the attack on Naboo, Aala and Obi-Wan meet and relish a moment of calm sharing stories and simply enjoying each other's company under the dusky purple sunset by the waterfalls on her home planet.

    "Has anyone thanked you yet for - this?" Aala asked suddenly, mischievous.

    As he met her gaze, Obi-Wan noted at once the glint of humor. “It was my duty,” he answered, his voice soft. “No thank you necessary.”

    A light breeze lifted wisps of her blonde hair to flutter around her face for one moment before the loose strands settled again around her shoulders. “I insist.”

    Leaning on one hand, Aala tilted her head toward him, and for an instant his breath caught.

    Her eyelids fluttered closed, but he found he could not do the same. He could not take his gaze off of her, and then she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. Pulling back, her expression softened as she regarded him. “For saving Naboo.”

    And then she moved, leaning across his body to kiss his other cheek. “For saving my sister.”

    When she pulled back again, she caught his steady gaze and Obi-Wan found himself lost trying to discern the exact color of her eyes and the nature of the emotion within them. But before he could, they had closed again and he felt her lips, so soft, brush across the very corner of his mouth.

    It lasted only a second then she smiled - so close he could feel the heat radiating from her skin, and she settled back in her spot on the grass without saying a word.

    After a minute, he couldn’t help himself and he asked, “What was that one for?”

    “For me,” she answered softly.

    “I didn’t save you.”

    "Oh,” Aala gave a wry grin, “there's still plenty of time for that opportunity to arise, I assure you. I have a penchant for trouble.”

    Obi-Wan chuckled, returning her smile. “I shall keep an eye out then, my dear.”
  21. Chyntuck

    Chyntuck Force Ghost star 5

    Jul 11, 2014
    Saga – Best Author

    AngelQueen – Excerpt from What History Will Say of Us

    “Organa has been trying to contact me,” Obi-Wan finally responds. 

    Ah. She nods. That makes sense. Bail - another friend lost to her. He’s never forgiven her for accepting the blood-splattered throne her husband had presented to her. He’s never understood her reasons for taking up the mantle of Empress instead of seeking to restore the Republic. He’s refused to see that the Republic was dead, and had been so for some time.

    He doesn’t speak to her anymore, beyond what the duties an Imperial Senator owes to the Empress. He doesn’t ask after her health, doesn’t ask after her family, nothing. She keeps tabs on him, though. She knows that he and Breha have just recently adopted a baby girl. She’s seen the holos that have been released to the media - a chubby, delightful girl with a gloss of red curls. Mara, her name is. Mara Organa.

    She knows he and Mon Mothma and many of the other Senators of the Delegation of Two Thousand are still thick as thieves. She isn’t naïve enough to think that they’re all just chatting and taking tea together. Her agents are very good at what they do, and much more subtle than Palpatine’s cronies ever were.

    “He wants the backing of the Jedi for his movement,” she says aloud. “With Yoda having vanished into exile and any other survivors of Order Sixty-Six lying low, you’re his only other option.” Even though Obi-Wan had done so much to show that he was no longer involved in the wider events of the galaxy, having shown that his only interest is in the children of his former Padawan.

    She sighs and shakes her head. “I don’t remember him being so hasty,” she murmurs. “If only he’d been patient and trusted me.”

    Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow. “It’s been three years, Padmé,” he points out. “Look at it from his point of view.”

    She knows. Bail sees her enjoying the power that Palpatine wrested from the Senate and the people of the Republic, sees her encouraging her husband to drench himself in the blood of all those who oppose her. He sees nothing of what else she has been doing, of the little regulations and procedures that are slowly falling into place.

    “These things take time, Obi-Wan,” she replies, standing up again. She sweeps down the dais and toward the balcony that is just off the throne room. He follows her. “But it’s no matter,” she continues. “It’s time.”

    “For what?” he asks her, his voice laced with growing suspicion. Perhaps the Force is warning him of what is to come?

    She doesn’t answer him, merely looks out over the city. She can see her husband’s Star Destroyer rising into the air, making for the upper atmosphere. “I loved the Republic,” she says. “Loved it more than my own life, and even more than those I cherished closest in my heart.” She sighs, her eyes watching the ship rapidly grow smaller and smaller. “A part of me died that day, Obi-Wan,” she continues, knowing she need not explain which day she is referring to. “I had no desire to see the galaxy fall under a dictatorship, much less be the head of one.”

    “None of us did,” Obi-Wan says.

    She glances to her left, where he has come to stand. He is also looking up into the evening sky, his expression as sad as ever. She cannot even begin to imagine his own feelings, given what he has lost. His people, his brother, his very purpose for being.

    * * *​

    ardavenport – Excerpt from Failure

    Obi-Wan Kenobi, in exile on Tatooine plays a dangerous game.

    Kenobi laid his cards down. He had three pairs and a foursome, easily beating the other hands. Uranth and the Dug laughed while the others grumbled and growled. It had been too good a hand not to play. And he wanted to see what the Devaronian woman would do.

    She stared with an expression of mixed shock and panic as he pulled the chits toward him. The money was important to her.

    "You play well," she challenged.

    She wanted him to talk. He minimally gestured back with his shoulders. He already had a reputation for being a player of few words and he did not want his voice to add to her suspicions about his identity. Nerwa collected all the cards and started shuffling.

    "Don't I get to know the name of the being taking my money?" the Devaronian persisted.

    The temperature among the other players at the table dropped appreciably.

    "Not if you lose. Not if you know what's good for you in this town," the Dug snarled. Anonymous gambling and vices were a specialty of Mos Eisley. People who asked a lot of questions were shunned.

    The Devaronian seemed to realize her mistake. Grabbing her remaining chits, she pushed away from the table and left.

    Kenobi sighed as if he was bored. "I'm quitting while I'm ahead." He started tucking his winnings into pouch on his belt. Nerva glared at him crossly and swept back the partially dealt hands and started shuffling again. Kenobi did not care about the money but he would be too conspicuous if he left it on the table.

    Getting up, he went to the shadows at the outer edge of the room, circling around toward the entrance. The Devaronian woman had stopped to exchange her house chits for real currency, marking her as an outworlder and one unfamiliar with Tatooine. Any local would know that the chits at most of the gambling dens were as good as money in town.

    Collecting her money, she glanced back toward their table and appeared to startle when she did not see him there. Her eyes darted around the room, but she did not spot him. From her point of view, he had vanished. She hurried outside.

    She met a broad-shouldered bronze protocol droid fashioned after a male Devoranian with horns on top of its head and slanted red photoreceptors for 'eyes'. Many places in Mos Eisley displayed 'NO DROIDS' signs including the gambling den they had just left. After the Clone Wars where the Separatists had fielded massive droid armies it seemed that a lot of people disdained eating or socializing anywhere near them.

    Keeping to the shadows, Kenobi followed her and her droid. As he feared, she was heading toward the Imperial Garrison. But she did not know Mos Eisley and was keeping to the better lit streets. He knew some shortcuts.

    Dodging down some dark and not entirely safe narrow streets and alleys, he got ahead of her on a wide, but less traveled street. The night traffic around the Imperial Garrison was always light. She gasped and whirled around when he put his hand on her shoulder.

    "We need to talk." He held up two fingers.

    * * *​

    Findswoman – Excerpt from The Book of Gand, chapter XII

    Zuckuss, who has been suffering the effects of a Findsman’s Mark that has been mysteriously placed on him, has gone to the cellar of his family home to fetch drinkables for himself and his brother, Gorruss. While doing so, he is overcome by a vision.

    The cold-cave was a small, circular, and perfectly silent room of black stone, its walls lined with bottles, flasks, and phials of every imaginable kind. One of the middle shelves contained several round, long-necked bottles containing light aqua liquid. Zuckuss was about to take one of them down when his eyes fell on a different bottle, sitting in the back corner of the shelf, that was much larger and older-looking than the others and bore several old-fashioned wax seals around its neck.

    Zuckuss lifted it down and looked at it. He was not sure why, for it was not what Gorruss had asked for—he had wanted one of the smaller bottles of Triaanvi, and this was Rhak’táan Ancient Reserve. Rhak’táan was one of Gand’s oldest and most prestigious distilleries, and it was said—though no one knew how rightly—that their Ancient Reserve blend of Madman’s Tears contained real tears from the all-seeing golden eyes of Trynfor the Mad. The glass was coated with a thin layer of mixed condensation and dust. It was cold to the touch and made the sensory setae of Zuckuss’s fingers bristle.

    Just then the Mark began to tingle in Zuckuss’s left hand, causing it to tremble and twitch. As it did, the bottle shook, and countless flakes of filmy dark-indigo sediment danced in the light of equally countless tiny bubbles. Zuckuss tried to steady himself with his other hand, but the tingling only grew stronger, the shaking more uncontrollable.

    He doubled over, clinging to the bottle with both arms to keep it from falling and breaking. But just then some unseen force wrenched his left hand from the bottle and twisted it violently, forcing him downward. A shrieked curse escaped him as his knees hit the stone floor full force. And the curse metamorphosed into a yelp of fear.

    The bottle was safe, but it now glowed blue-golden with the glittering of millions of furiously swirling bubbles. In their light Zuckuss could see the luminous bond of the Mark on his left hand. But it was not the fine thread of which the ancient writings had spoken. It was thick cords of golden light that bound his entire lower arm—thick cords that crackled with angry electricity against his struggling . . .

    . . . before pulling him against his will into the rushing, crashing, and whirling of the blue-golden vortex.

    Then, as suddenly as it had engulfed him, the vortex calmed and solidified into shapes. They were not the glowing, indeterminate shapes that had so often frustrated his earlier attempts to track the Mark, but rather the clear, recognizable shapes of places he had been before.

    And the bright trace of the Mark wound its way through them: from a hoverbus shelter to a humble cottage . . . around the side of the cottage . . . through the chinks of a garden wall . . . weaving and coiling amid curling foliage . . . all before flaring upward into a golden blaze—

    —in the palm of a small, outstretched hand.

    And then all went dark: the bottle, the room, Zuckuss’s own eyes.

    * * *​

    JediMaster_Jen – Excerpt from chapter 5 of Knightfall I: Sins of the Father

    This story begins with Ben Skywalker returning to Coruscant after a five-year absence. He encounters his family and friends, and has a few tough choices to make.

    The evening had gone surprisingly well, and now before dinner was served, Ben was standing quietly on the terrace. The sun had just set and the otherworldly glow cast over the city-planet was hypnotic.

    “You’ve barely said two words to me all night,” Kiera said as she stepped onto the terrace.

    At first Ben didn’t speak, or even acknowledge her presence. His eyes were riveted on the passing speeders in the busy space lanes. After several moments and a deep breath, he turned around to face her.

    “What would you like me to say?” he questioned softly as he ran a hand through his wavy hair.

    Kiera stepped forward and reached out to rest her hand on Ben’s forearm. He visibly flinched and she withdrew her touch with a sigh.

    “I sent you several communiques over the years,” she volunteered.

    Ben cleared his throat. “I know. I deleted them. I didn’t…couldn’t talk to you then. I can…barely do it now.”

    Why? she asked, tears in her eyes.

    Ben turned around again placing his back to her. “You know why, Kiera. I loved you. The only thing that kept me alive after I was captured was...was knowing when I came home you would be here. Then I came home and…”

    “…everything had changed,” she finished. “Ben, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry everything was different. But, you need to know I…I loved you, too; so much. I still love you, Ben.”

    Ben turned, gray eyes flashing with pain, regret, love, hate. “No, you don’t. You love him, my brother, and I hate you for making me hate him as much as I love him. I hate myself for loving you still, to this very moment.”

    * * *​

    Lady_Misty – Excerpt from Dark Angel

    Luke sat next to Han in the Falcon's cockpit.

    “Do you believe in love at first sight, Han?” Luke asked the smuggler. Han was silent for a moment. “Kid, I believe you can fall for a girl before you have even laid eyes on her. I did.” Han smiled fondly. “She could give you a run for your money as far as flying and racing swoop bikes are concerned. She's intelligent and feisty, not afraid to say what she thinks of you or other people and boy does she know how to fight.” Han looked pensive.

    “What happened to her? Why isn't she here?” Luke asked.

    “Someone didn't want me to marry her and there are a few people even I won't cross.” Han explained, his tone making it clear that he did not intend to say more on the subject.

    Luke returned to the thought that had sparked the question. “I saw this girl on Tatooine a day or two before I left. I instantly felt connected to her, but I never had a chance to find out who she was. She was one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen even though I barely saw her long enough to see that she had brown hair and eyes and she drove a military grade speeder bike. I feel as though we will meet again.”

    “Kid, about half the girls in the galaxy have brown hair and eyes and most of them are prettier than any girls you might have seen in that backwater you call home,” Han said in a reasoning tone. “Besides if she had a military grade speeder bike she's probably not someone you want to meet again. A military grade speeder bike on Tatooine means she was probably either a bounty hunter or one of the Emperor's elite. You're not exactly in the Emperor's good graces at the moment.”

    “You never know.” Luke replied fatalistically. A comfortable silence fell between the two men. “What's her name?” Luke asked Han. “The girl you fell in love with.”

    “I called her Angel,” Han replied.

    * * *​

    laloga – Excerpt from chapter 32 of Worth Fighting For

    This scene is from my completed fic, Worth Fighting For. It's an AU set post Order 66, and features Captain Rex/OC, and is a sequel to the story, The Fighting Kind. Here, my OC, Brenna, travels to Kamino with to find a component for the clones' rapid-aging.

    Their plan was simple.

    As she listened to Fives, Marliss and Ahsoka discussing the finer points, Brenna watched the shredding stars of hyperspace that were visible through the transparisteel cockpit of the Shereshoy, and fought back her trepidation for what was surely the hundredth time.

    Their plan was simple, but simple was good; simple had a far better chance of success than complicated. Besides, Brenna knew that if she was going to be infiltrating Kamino with anyone, doing so with a former ARC trooper, a pair of skilled clone soldiers, a Kaminoan and a Jedi was probably her best chance for success.

    She just wished that the knot in her chest that refused to dissipate was only due to the uncomfortable binding around her breasts, and nothing else.

    “Pre-battle jitters?” Chopper's voice was quiet. Like her, he was seated in one of the pull-out chairs at the cockpit's sides. Unlike her, he seemed completely calm and relaxed: leaning back, arms crossed before his chest, mismatched eyes regarding her with something that was almost amusement. Of all the clones, Chopper was the most laconic, especially with the “civvies,” so it was something of a surprise to hear him address her.

    Brenna looked down at the datapad she'd brought along, and toyed with the port-cover. “I guess so, though I hope there's no battle.”

    The scarred clone frowned, but she thought it was a contemplative expression, not an unhappy one. “I do as well, but things rarely go as we hope.”

    Even though she felt much the same way, his words sent a thrill of alarm through her and her throat went dry. A moment later he seemed to realize this, and he exhaled through his nose, wincing as if he were in pain. “Sorry, Miss Damaris...I don't mean to sound so negative.”

    “No, you're right,” she replied, lifting the 'pad and setting it in the Imperial-regulation backpack Fives had provided that held her slicing equipment. “Things don't really work out as we'd like, do they?” She paused and swallowed. “I'm glad I can help on this mission, but...I just want to come back home when we're done.”

    Around them, the others were clearly engrossed with the planning, though Brenna had done everything she could by now, so that all she had to do was wait. She tried not to sigh, because although she didn't remember much from the War, she thought that her dislike of waiting was probably the same now as it was then.

    Chopper tilted his head and regarded her thoughtfully, then offered a smile that she thought was meant to be reassuring, for all that it looked a bit out of place on him. “I'm nervous, too.”

    “But you've done stuff like this before.”

    He shrugged and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Yeah, but it never gets any easier.” Another faint smile tugged at his mouth, though this one seemed more genuine. “Didn't the Captain tell you that?”

    * * *​

    serendipityaey – Excerpt from Fallen

    Obi-Wan and Aala struggle with the atrocities of war and with exactly where they stand with each other, even as their true feelings for each other inevitably continue to grow and deepen.

    He watched her as she fixed her coffee. The rain pattered against the window, softly drumming a lulling beat. She wondered if he was ever going to say anything at all.

    As she brought the steaming mug to her lips, he finally broke his silence. "Why did you choose this life, Aala?" he asked her softly.

    "What? Politics?" she asked confused.

    "No..." he shook his head. "This. Us."

    She laughed it off. "I'd hardly call you a 'way of life', Obi-Wan. How often do we even see each other?"

    The expression on his face remained the same, unamused and just as serious as before. He actually wanted a real answer.

    Shrugging, she tried to keep her tone casual. "You make it easy for a girl like me," she answered flippantly, "–no commitment, no expectations, no pressure."

    He wasn't buying. And she had a bad feeling she knew exactly where this conversation was headed. But how the hell could he know? She'd never uttered a word, never even hinted at it. Damn Jedi.

    He looked at her intently, and she felt like he was reading her as easily as he would a progress report on the battlefront.

    "Something happened." He was in full Jedi mode now. She knew he used that when he was upset, stolidly keeping his feelings at bay.

    "Yeah." Exasperated, she answered as if it should be obvious. "I was in a shuttle crash that very nearly ripped me in two."

    "No, no. Not that."

    Aala groaned, her shoulders slumping and she frowned at him. "I don't ask you about your other lovers," she huffed.

    "I don't have any other lovers."

    "Ex-lovers, then."

    A flash of pain crossed his worn features.

    "Obi-Wan. What happened?"

    He paused, staring at his hands. "A friend, a close friend, passed on."

    "Who?" Apprehension crept into her voice.

    "You don't know her." He answered quietly.

    "Obi-Wan..." she let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, "oh, I'm so sorry."

    He clutched his coffee cup tightly in his hands, so hard she worried he was going to break it.

    Her heart sank. It felt heavy in her chest and the words were spilling from her mouth before she could stop herself. "You loved her."

    "I loved her." He said it so softly, she almost didn't hear and she didn't think he was talking to her anymore.

    "Why did you call me?" She was speaking again, without thinking. The question had fallen from her lips before she could consider whether it might be better to just keep it to herself.

    He looked at her, his eyes wide and she realized the way that must have sounded.

    "I don't – I don't mean that. I just... Obi-Wan, I don't know anything about love," she said sadly, "... the one time I tried, I utterly and completely failed."

    What was she supposed to say? What was she supposed to be feeling right now? Jealousy? Compassion? Pain? The only thing she knew she felt was completely overwhelmed. What did he want from her? Whatever it was, she was pretty sure she couldn't provide it.

    The pang of heartbreak, his heartbreak and hers from so long ago, swirled together inside her. It was sharp and raw, and it made it hard to breathe. She felt a tear slip over her cheek and hastily, she brushed it away. Surely, it would be misunderstood.

    "I have to go." Gathering up her jacket, she carelessly dropped a few credits on the table and stood. He didn't look at her. "I – I'm sorry."

    * * *​

    taramidala – Excerpt from A Handmaid’s Tale (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6)

    Sabé's life in six part harmony.

    She sees him. In the shadows of the crowd at Padmé’s funeral. Older, wiser and battered, but still the same sturdy presence she remembered. As she passes him in the funeral cortège she fixes him with a gaze. Brief, only a moment, but she silently shouts at him Get me out of here.

    He catches her, after, in a dark alley near her sister’s home. Whatever got Padmé killed will surely come for her, too. She needs to disappear, but where? She cannot tell anyone. Kenobi came with Organa? Can they take her with them?

    Not now, he tells her. Play the game. Be mournful and grief-stricken as a Naboo would. Tell no lies, but give no answers to any inquiries. Settle affairs quickly and quietly. Someone will come for her. Soon. One standard month, maybe less.

    She deals with Panaka delicately, playing up the grief and hysteria for the Emperor’s man. For Apailana, there’s some measure of truth: that her connection to Amidala now endangers her, and she does not wish any additional undue attention. All her security and personal data, any trace of her, must disappear. Status unknown. For Roo’na’s protection, and for her village’s. The Queen insists on a single copy, Sabé’s personal copy, for preservation, for posterity, for the future.

    That she becomes Senator Binks’ chief aide is a lie, but a well-crafted ruse that Ellé will play flawlessly, as she’s always been one of the more shrewd political minds to come out of the training program. The Queen and Typho will help her settle in.

    And Roo’na. Dearest Rioona cuts her hair, packs her bag, and weeps when Sabé insists for the fiftieth time that it’s for the best. The night of her rendezvous, Sabé doesn’t look back when Roo’na whispers “Is’braylem tué, jirféa, Sabéa” into the dark.

    It’s not until she’s safely in hyperspace, on the way to Force-knows-where with Master Kenobi, that she weeps. She is 31 years old, with a heart full of ashes, and wonders what’s left to live for.


    Tea with Master - Ben - is a daily occurrence in the time they share hiding space on Tatooine. When she settles on Alderaan, tea becomes an indulgence she allows herself. Twice per week, in honor of their friendship.

    Senator Organa and Her Royal Highness Queen Breha could not be kinder. Not only do they offer her accommodation, but it is a suite in their own palace. It…takes adjustment, after so many years out of a royal household.

    Her role in the household shifts as the Princess grows. Governess, tutor, guardian. Teacher of etiquette, protocol, weaponry, subterfuge. History, religion, art. Politics. The girl is a natural, in nearly every way. Much like her mother. (And her father.)

    She finds herself in another role, greater in scale than raising the princess. At the Senator and Queen’s request, she travels. Working in the dark, whispered seditious conversations sow the seeds of rebellion. She’s not alone. There are others (Fulcrum) whom she never sees, but who are working in similar fashions. Together, with any luck (and maybe the Force) they will be ready in time.

    She tells the Princess nothing of her past, even when asked. As the girl becomes more like Padmé it breaks her heart afresh. (“We had an agreement,” the Senator says. / “No, we didn’t. You and your Jedi dictated it. I had nothing to do with it,” she seethes.) Her increased travels make it easier to avoid the dissonance in her soul.

    She vows that, one day, when Leia knows the truth, she will tell the girl everything.
  22. Chyntuck

    Chyntuck Force Ghost star 5

    Jul 11, 2014
    Saga – Best New Author

    Annia Piet – Excerpt from Ownership

    A story prompted by the ambiguous nature of the droid’s ownership throughout the Saga, this story is set the day after the Battle of Yavin. Artoo has just been repaired, but is refusing to accept transfer of his ownership to the Alliance.

    "Oh." The tech looked disappointed that his neat explanation hadn't panned out. "Maybe it's just some glitch from when he was hit that the repairs haven't ironed out properly. Anyway, perhaps you can both talk to the droid and get him to accept the transference?"

    "Both?" Luke asked, confused.

    "Yes, he says he is the property of Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia Organa. I wonder whether it needs both of you to sign him over and that's where the problem lies?"

    Luke and Leia looked at each other in confusion. "Both of us? At the same time? Is that possible?" Leia asked.

    Luke sighed. "The little fella must have got his wires crossed, quite literally. He was on an Alderaanian consulate ship, so it's natural for him to think he now belongs to Leia..." A shadow passed over the group at the oblique reference to Alderaan's destruction, leaving the princess most likely the highest ranking Alderaanian still alive. "But then Uncle Owen bought him from the Jawa's. The Jawa's probably messed with his circuitry to get away with the theft so they could sell him on."

    "That makes sense," Leia agreed.

    "I mean, he was pretty confused at the time, thinking he belonged to Ben and all at the same time." Luke looked at Leia earnestly. "Thing is, Leia, I don't think I want his memory wiped. I feel like I only just got to know him."

    "Got to know a droid?" Han was looking at him like he was nuts.

    "Yeah. I kinda like him as he is. I'm happy to take the risk on glitches, he can fly in my X-wing."

    Leia looked to the tech questioningly. The man shrugged. "It's your funeral, sir."

    "Alright then," Leia said. "But we should still transfer ownership, so there's no issue should something happen to us. But no memory wipes." She turned to Artoo. "R2-D2, I hereby transfer your ownership to the Alliance."

    Luke sighed a little regretfully, for reasons he couldn't quite place. "Artoo, I hereby transfer your ownership to the Alliance."

    The droid twisted his dome and quarked in a somewhat rude tone. The tech glanced at the data pad attached to the droid by a wire, and frowned. "Um, that still hasn't worked."

    "How come? Didn't we say it right?"

    "No, that should have been fine," he replied, shaking his head. Artoo beeped and trilled some more. The tech read the translation and sighed, looking like in other company he would have sworn. "Now he's added an addendum to his ownership. He says he belongs to Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia Organa and their descendants in perpetuity." The bewildered man let his arm drop and looked at the pair of them. "It means his ownership can't ever be changed. This is insane!"

    The group looked at each other in bewilderment.

    "That's pretty bizarre," Han put in. "I mean, I've heard of droids being locked into service of one family in perpetuity, but it doesn't make sense in the case of two unconnected people."

    Leia had a decisive look on her face. "Well, it's lucky we're not unconnected then.” She linked her arm through Luke's. "We're friends. Which means I'm happy for Luke to take ownership of him for all practical purposes. Makes sense for him to follow the fighter pilot. And the little guy can work out which of our descendants he wants to follow around when we get to it. Given he's as much a hero of the alliance as the rest of us, I think he's earned it!"

    Artoo spun his dome around and twittered happily.

    * * *​

    gaarastar58 – Excerpt from Knightfall – An Order 66 Short Story, part I

    This is an extract from a short story set during ROTS and the fall of the Jedi Order. Told from two different but intertwining perspectives, this story features Kai (OC), Katooni, Jesse, Kix and Anakin. Enjoy!

    ‘Come on, hurry up,’ said Katooni.

    ‘I’m doing my best,’ said Kai. Their lives depended on keeping one step ahead of the clones, although he still hardly believed that it was the clones that were attacking. When he had first awoken to the sound of an alarm klaxon he thought the droid armies must have returned to Coruscant, only this time to attack the Jedi temple instead of the senate. But then he had seen the clones attacking Jedi, killing people he knew and he had run, dragging Katooni along with him.

    ‘Do you want me to carry Petro for a while?’ said Katooni.

    ‘No, it’s alright. I think… I’m going to put him down here.’

    ‘We can’t just leave him.’

    ‘He’s gone Katooni.’

    Katooni stopped and looked back. Kai took the opportunity to slouch against a wall. Petro’s body sagged in his arms. Blood had soaked into Kai’s tunic, turning the brown material black.

    ‘He was dead when I picked him up, I just couldn’t leave him back… back there…’ Kai’s voice trailed off.

    Katooni came and knelt down. ‘Let me help.’ Together they lowered the boy’s body to the ground. Petro’s head lolled in the crook of Kai’s arm and he cradled the boy close, not wanting to let him go.

    ‘Why is this happening?’

    Katooni hung her head. ‘I don’t know.’

    ‘He was just a kid.’ Kai’s voice trembled. In truth he was little more than a youngling himself, a newly apprenticed Padawan who had only been on a few missions. He looked down at Petro. The bottomless dark in the boy’s half-open eyes was the scariest thing he had ever seen in his life. It seemed so wrong. He and Petro had grown up in the temple together. They had trained together. And now he was dead, gone just like that. Petro had never been one to back away from a fight, but the clones had cut him down before he even had a chance to ignite his lightsaber.

    Katooni started to cry. Big fat tears rolled down her cheeks as she held onto Petro’s hand. He and Katooni had been through a lot together and Kai felt her grief and pain in the force. ‘What did we do?’

    This time it was Kai’s turn to shake his head. ‘I don’t know. But we’ve got to keep moving.’

    ‘And just leave Petro here?’

    ‘We have to. There’s nothing we can do for him. Carrying him will just slow us down.’

    Katooni sniffed. ‘I know. You’re right.’ She held onto Petro’s hand for another moment before letting go and standing up. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. ‘Let’s go.’

    Kai lowered the boy’s head to the floor, anger and grief pricking at the back of his own eyes, but he pushed those feelings aside. He had no time now. He felt like he was betraying Petro, leaving him here all alone on the cold floor, but there was no choice.

    ‘Goodbye,’ he said, laying a hand on Petro’s chest. He got to his feet and unclipped his lightsaber from his belt. From somewhere below his feet came the sound of another explosion and then, much closer, he heard blaster fire.

    ‘Let’s go.’

    * * *​

    jcgoble3 – Excerpt from The Royal Mess of Aeos

    When Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Quinlan Vos are sent to resolve a dispute over who is the rightful heir to the throne of Aeos, Anakin naturally gets into something he shouldn't, leading to an unconventional solution to the royal mess.

    “Well, I managed to get them to agree on one thing: firing me as negotiator.” Vos rolled his eyes. “Somehow I managed to offend both of them just by saying that accusations without evidence won’t get us anywhere.”

    “They’re still harping over that statue, huh?”

    “Yep. The statue of the first king of Aeos, dating back to around the Great Hyperspace War. Each says the other’s responsible for its destruction, but neither has any evidence, just accusations. And apparently pointing that out got me kicked out.”

    “Well, I guess I can take over the role of negotiator.”

    Vos laughed. “I thought from the beginning that you should have been the negotiator here. You’ve always been better at it than me.”

    Obi-Wan chuckled. “A peace treaty between factions at war is one thing, Quin. It’s give and take there. Trying to decide which prince has the rightful claim to the throne? There’s a right answer and a wrong answer, and no room for give and take. Somebody’s going to be left disappointed here. I can’t make everyone happy like with a typical peace treaty.”

    Vos reached out and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Well, don’t be too hard on yourself, Obi-Wan. We wouldn’t even been in this situation if King Gauteron hadn’t gotten himself involved in that scandal and been forced to abdicate.”

    “Or if we had the family history records.”

    “That too. What a royal mess.”

    Obi-Wan closed his eyes and resisted groaning at his friend’s pun. “Anyway, I still think the loss of those records is suspicious.”

    Vos shook his head. “I don’t believe it without proof. There’s all sorts of ways that data can be lost. Damaged storage media, corruption, accidental overwrite, even a typo in a terminal command. Master Nu still hasn’t forgiven me for that last one.” The Kiffar Jedi chortled. “Anyway, the key is probably going to be to try to get compromises early in the session. The princes seem to get angrier as each session goes on.” Just then, Vos realized somebody was missing. “By the way, where’s that Padawan of yours?”

    “I sent him out to Bellwick to check out a possible lead on what really happened to that statue. But he should have been back by now.”

    Vos saw the door on the far end of the atrium open, and in walked, no, skipped a familiar and apparently very happy boy. “Well, I’m not sure what he’s gotten himself into this time, but he’s coming up behind you.”

    Obi-Wan turned on his heel and stared as Anakin Skywalker skipped through the atrium and up to his Master, who spoke before the younger Jedi could. “What is the meaning of all this commotion, Padawan?”

    Anakin looked up with a smile on his face. “What commotion?”

    Vos stifled a laugh as he rolled his eyes. How typical for that boy.

    Obi-Wan was far more serious. “Anakin, I am going to ask this once, and I expect a straight answer. Did somebody drug you, spike your drink, or anything like that?”

    Anakin continued smiling even as he hesitated to answer. “Well...” he said in an unusually cheerful voice.

    Obi-Wan took a deep breath, squatted down, and cupped Anakin’s cheeks in his hands. “What happened?”

    “I had a happy potion.”

    “A what?”

    “You drink it and it makes you happy.”
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