Saga - PT Saga - OT Rose’s Eleven (Kessel Run Challenge; OCs and possibly others)

Thank you so much for the reads and comments!

Yeah, the chieftain would probably have found an outright declaration of hostility less ambiguous, in some ways, for that very reason! And of course the way HK maunders on about principles and such doesn’t help matters at all, either.

Then I know I did my job! Thanks so much!

Oh, very likely so! And anyone who works that closely with HK, in any universe, has to have the patience of a saint!

Thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoyed, and it’s always wonderful to have you here!

Thanks so much! (And welcome to the boards!) I’m glad you enjoyed “What’s New, Tooka-Kit?” and found it both humorous and heartfelt. I too love stories that have elements of both, so I’m very happy that came through here, too!

 

7. What Kind of Honor Guard…?

Prompt: Write a story between 100 and 1,000 words that is entirely introspection. No spoken dialogue, no action.
Characters: Garazeb “Zeb” Orrelios
Summary: During the Imperial siege of Lasan, Zeb comes to after the bombing of the Royal Palace of Lasan and takes stock of what he sees and feels. At this point he has only barely processed what has really happened. I place the siege at about 10 BBY in my universe of stories, so this story is in the era of Saga–PT. Many thanks, as always, to @Raissa Baiard for beta-reading and putting up with my angsty proclivities!

---

The first thing he felt, as he blinked back to consciousness, was that something was on top of him.

Something heavy, and something familiar: another blink or two told him it was one of the gigantic piers from the central court of the palace, with the carved dancing konculors at the top. The ones he had seen every single day since becoming captain.

Only—on top of him?! Wha…?

Oh yeah, that’s right, the explosion. That was the second thing: he thought back to that loud CRACK, then the darkness, and then… this.

It hurt like the Bogan, having a gigantic piece of stone-duracrete-whatever on your chest. Grinding, stabbing pain in his ribs, shoulders, arms, legs, everywhere. Things were probably broken—lots of things. But a Guard knew how to handle pain, right?

Come to think of it, wasn’t an Honor Guard supposed to know how to get out of situations like this? They’d taught him basic escape techniques and such when he was a cadet long ago, right? He thought back to his time at the academy, to all the maneuvers and obstacle courses and parkour he had done over the years, to mountain ops, stealth ops, extreme weather conditions ops, this ops, that ops. He’d fallen from any number of Lasan’s cliffs, broken any number of bones, scraped and gashed himself on ice and rocks and metal and who knows what else. So surely he could get out from under a little bit of rock and duracrete. Right?

He tried to wriggle out, one appendage at a time, but it hurt too much and wore him out too much. He pulled harder and felt the crack of yet another bone breaking, but was still pinned. Well, karabast on that.

He tried to look around, craning his neck. That hurt, too, but he didn’t care. Rubble everywhere: stone, duracrete, glass, hangings. Any survivors? Anyone at all? Even an Imp he could at least gnash his teeth and curse at? No…?

Sticking out from one pile of rubble, twisted at an odd angle, was a strong, dark-striped purple foot. A ring of green metal danged from it: a regulation Guard kneepiece. He couldn’t tell from here whose it was. Not that it mattered. He turned away.

Again, he tried to wriggle out. Again it hurt. Again he racked his brains. Again nothing. Nothing, nothing, and more nothing, and just…

Karabast! What kind of Honor Guard was he, anyway?!

Yeah, what kind of Honor Guard couldn’t get out from under a measly little piece of stone? What kind of Honor Guard was too in pain and too tired to move himself out of danger? What kind of Honor Guard fainted at the sound of one bomb going off? What kind of Honor an Guard flinched at the sight of—

No! What kind of Honor Guard let even one of his comrades die? And like that? What kind of Honor Guard let this happen? Any of this! Whatever it was! He didn’t even know! (Except he did.)

What was going to happen to him? And why didn’t he know the answer to that? The karking pier crushing his body seemed to have gotten about ten times heavier; he could have sworn he’d heard more bones crack. So, was he just going to have to stay here? Wait for someone? For whom? What kind of Honor Guard stayed and waited around, anyway? What had happened to everyone, anyway? The 1st Division, the 2nd, the 3rd, the 4th—his lieutenants—his mother, father, siblings, in-laws, best friends—and her? Karabast—!

And on top of all that, there was now this… greenish thing moving at the edge of his peripheral vision? Or maybe grayish? Didn’t look like anyone or anything familiar, but maybe it didn’t matter. His vision was going as blurry as his mind, so who knew? Or maybe it was the other way around…

The last thing he felt, as passed out again, was tired.

fin

Spoiler: Notes

The konculor is a fanon mountain-lion-like beast devised by @Raissa Baiard as part of our joint Lasat fanon (see our fanon post).

The greenish or grayish thing Zeb sees moving may probably is Kanan, whom he mentions by name in “Legends of the Lasat” as having found him and rescued him after the Siege of Lasan (“I was as good as dead, at least until Kanan found me”)

 

Thanks so much! Poor fellow, indeed—it wasn’t easy to write about him in this situation, even though it’s an idea I’ve been thinking about writing for a little while. That’s what a good prompt can do, I guess!

Ah, well, that green or gray entity moving around nearby might have some ideas about that! Thanks as always for reading and commenting!

Hurts so good for us, I hope, even if it hurts bad for him! Once again, I take this as a compliment—thank you so much!

 

Don't mind me, playing catch-up yet again.

I was absolutely delighted as soon as I saw which character you chose to "invert", and you certainly didn't disappoint with your premise! I laughed out loud more than once, and honestly could have quoted every line of HK's dialogue, it was just that good.

Hee, that was clever.

HK has so much in common with Threepio.

Such talk!

I love that it was hard to tell who was more flummoxed, Revan or the chieftain.

A+ appelative!

I lost it at elucidation.

Of course he doesn't mean you, HK, just your intolerable caterwauling!

This was a very clever way to get HK and Revan out of their predicament, in as nonviolent a manner as possible.

Oh boy, just as I knew your HK piece was going to be hysterical, I had an idea of just how much this one was going to hurt . . .

So much pain. In more ways than one.

I appreciate how the details you did add - the familiarty of the stone, the fallen comrade he couldn't identify - really contributed to the central theme of Zeb's introspection. That was quite the trick with this week's prompt.

This parenthetical was devastating.

Oh.

Color me intrigued with the greyish/greenish presense. The Ashla isn't done with Zeb yet - no matter that he can only see self-perceived failings as an Honor Guard right now, he's going to continue to serve. But first, the pain is too fresh and quite literally overwhelming and there's nothing else he can do.

This was . . . haunting and intense and visceral, but well done. So well done.


As always, I can't wait to see what you have to share with us next!

 

Thanks so much for the reads and comments, as always!

No worries in the least—I am in that exact same boat in terms of how many of these threads I have to catch up with!

Oh, thanks so much! I’m glad you liked my choice. I pretty much immediately knew who I wanted to work with as soon as I saw the prompt for that particular week!

Thanks again! When the chance arises to make a pun, always take it, I always say!

Ohmigosh, you’re so right—they really do, when it comes right down to it! Oh wow, if they could meet each other sometime… guess I’ll put that in the bunny hutch!

Yes, they’re really both pretty baffled by the whole situation! (And hey, if things had gone differently, perhaps they could have found some common ground over that!)

Only the best for that long-suffering Tusken bigwig!

Leave it to HK to know the exact correct word for every situation!

Of course he doesn't mean you, HK, just your intolerable caterwauling!

This was a very clever way to get HK and Revan out of their predicament, in as nonviolent a manner as possible. [/quote]

Thanks! And of course it turned out to work, completely against Revan’s expectations!

“Now for something completely different!” (Which is one of the great things about this challenge, of course!)

Yes, on all the levels.

It was—one can’t not take the character’s setting into account, so the trick is integrating it into their own interiority, emphasizing the emotional effect it has. A huge challenge, and a slippery slope—because where does one draw the line? (In various places, depending on the story, it turns out.)

This parenthetical was devastating. [/quote]
In a good way, I hope! I was definitely going for a less-is-more type moment here, so I am so glad it worked!

Yes. I imagine this kind of situation would give rise to that kind of rush of thoughts, and from there into a spiral of despair once he starts thinking about what this all means for people he knows and loves...

Ah, that gray-green presence is someone we know and love! And yes, help and healing will come, soon even—but for now Zeb is literally just tired of it all.

Thank you so much! As always, your awesome comments mean so much to me, and I’m so glad you enjoyed these two very different entries.

Thanks so much! Yes, that’s a good way of putting it—and both those things are doing a number on him. As an Honor Guard he’s internalized the idea of being able to help, protect, and serve everyone, even of being able to do the near-impossible—which means as soon as a situation comes along where he can’t, the guilt and feeling of failure is a hundred times stronger.

Oh, indeed! And a nice long rest!

Thank you so much once again—always a joy to have you hear reading and commenting!

Next installment inbound shortly...

 

8. ’Cause I Don’t

Prompt: Write a story of at least 400 words from the POV of a character you hate/dislike and make them sympathetic.
Characters: DJ (whom I dislike), Temiri Blagg (unnamed, whom I like—just had to make that clear!)
Summary: DJ has the chance to help a stable boy in need.
Notes: There aren’t many SW characters that I outright dislike, but the trick was finding one I wasn’t fond of but felt I could still at least write a story about. DJ turned out to fit those criteria. I am not fond of his amoral personality or the way he betrays Finn and Rose (or that the writers felt it necessary to make Finn and Rose fail in their mission by means of such a betrayal, but that’s a beef for another time), but I figured he might work in a sort of Robin Hood-like scenario, so that’s what I’ve gone with. Once again, I thank @Raissa Baiard for beta reading and support during the writing of a relatively difficult prompt!

---

Call me DJ. Like, Dorn-Jenth. Stands for “Don’t Join.” As in, don’t take sides, don’t owe anyone anything. ’Cause I don’t.

I’m a simple fellow, really. Got my own little place in Canto Bight. Make my living at the tables and the races, because what else do you do in Canto Bight? It’s a good gig, ’least most of the time. Fun if nothing else. Thrill of the game, y’know?

Maybe you’re saying, “What, you gamble, DJ?!” Oh no, my friend. I’m not a gambler, no way. Gamblers don’t know whether they’re gonna win or lose. Me, I always know I’m gonna win. 100% total guaranteed.

Why? ’Cause of my wizard slicing skills. Made a few tiny modifications, and now all the gaming stations in the ol’ C. B. will reroute as much winnings to me as I tell them to. Idiot’s Array or bomb-out, red or black, even twenty or over twenty— doesn’t matter. Feel like dinner at the Coruscant? Massage from Lexo Sooger at Zord’s Spa and Bathhouse? New bling? ’Fresher need fixing? Easy, just grab an extra two hundred or so from the Galactic Tiles machines or the hologame consoles. All those touristy offworlders and such, they’re so filthy rich, they don’t even notice.

Now, with the fathiers it’s different. Sometimes with them you have to take a few… extra steps, too. But that’s no problem, either. I know the codes to all the stables, and I got a little special… juice-type stuff I sometimes sneak into the trough that helps ’em run nice and fast. All the stable-hand kids know me, they think I’m one of the farriers or trainers or something. There’s this one little guy, pink-skinned, brown-eyed, with a worn-out cloth cap that’s too small, who waves to me sometimes, and I wave back.

So, there was this one time I had some money on Mynock Minute for the Equinox Day Special, so I went down to the stables to give him some of my special juice. The worn-out-cap kid was there. We waved to each other, then he went over to the opposite side and started sweeping up.

I was over by Mynock Minute’s stall measuring out my juice when I heard a yell from over there. I saw the boy running toward the door after something, with his arm stretched out. Then all at once he stopped and just stood there hanging his head. Here’s what’d happened: a big gust of wind blew up— it was kind of breezy that day— and it blew his cap off somewhere into the desert. And Bargwill doesn’t let the stable kids go outside during work hours. They’ll get their meals docked if they do.

He didn’t see me, but I stopped and looked at him for a bit. He just stood there a little while, like I said, and I’m not sure but I think he was crying. It got me thinking back to my own stable boy days long ago, ’cause that’s how I got my start, too. I’d only had one hat myself back then, maybe it was the same for him. And on a windy day like that, you want one.

But I didn’t stick around, because I had other things I had to do. So I poured the juice into Mynock Minute’s trough, then left.

Well, long story short, Mynock Minute won the Equinox Day Special, just like I knew he would. I got the winnings, just like I knew I would. And let’s just say that if that little pink-skinned, brown-eyed boy looked in his cubbyhole the next morning, he might’ve seen something there. A new cap, brown nerf leather, lined, and most of all, the right size. (’Least I think so. Hard to tell with kids.)

He wears it every day now. He doesn’t know where it came from. And that’s okay with me. I don’t want him to. Why? Because I don’t want him to think he owes me anything. Or anyone else anything. ’Cause he doesn’t.

Just like me.

fin

Spoiler: Notes

Temiri does indeed wear a brown leather cap in TLJ. However, this story of how he got it is completely fanon, as is the notion that DJ was once a Canto Bight stable boy himself.

Wookieepedia links: fathiers; Coruscant Hotel and Casino; Lexo Sooger; Zord’s Spa and Bathhouse; Galactic Tiles; Mynock Minute (thank you @Raissa Baiard for finding an awesome list of canon race fathiers on the Wook); Bargwill Tomder; Equinox Day (technically a Hosnian Prime holiday, but similar holidays could be celebrated elsewhere, I guess)

 

No worries at all! I'm not going anywhere, and am glad to hear from you whenever!

I am hoping we get more background on Dr. Fyanla’Draba’Taruma at some point. (Because non-Humans are always of interest, and we don't see a lot of Drabatans in SW fiction.)[/quote]
Thanks so much, glad you enjoyed! I did the drabbles in the order Vi listed the prompts, at least I think I did—and I think it was because I too wasn't sure at first whether we could reorder them! As to Fya, I will definitely keep that in mind! I too hope I'll be able to write more about her sometime.

Absolutely not!

Well, thank you so much! That is high praise indeed, and I appreciate that very much!

Thank you—I definitely try!

Thanks so much, glad you enjoyed! I have to say, I kind of like this nicer version of him, too!

Oh, thank you so much, so glad that worked well for you! I figured if he's really serious about not owing anyone everything, he might apply the same principle to other people, too—it would at least make him a DJ with some integrity. And yes, again, I think I kind of like him as a Robin Hood-type, too! Many thanks again for reading and enjoying, as always.

 

9. Song to the Four

Prompt: Write a poem in any style/form, and of any length.
Characters: The Warrior, the Child, and the Fool (from Lasat lore and scripture), plus one more; mention of Shulma Trilasha Orrelios and implied mention of her daughter
Summary: An ancient Lasat poem transcribed by Shulma in her journal, during her time in exile from Lasan—with an addition.
Notes: Thanks, as always, to @Raissa Baiard for beta reading.

---

(Song to the Three, attr. Berura of Crystalflint Island, Early Second Age. Recorded in the journal of my mother, Shulma Trilasha Orrelios, after she fled the Destruction.)

Warrior of Lasan, proud and valiant,
wielder of the glittering spear
that flashes and slashes and sings through the fray:
let us be you in time of battle.
Come with spear held aloft,
fill us with strength
and lead us to triumph.

Child of Lasan, wide-eyed scaler
of high-reaching rocks and far-flung branches,
present’s joy and future’s hope:
let us be you in time of peace.
Come, arms wide with love,
fill us with warmth
and rebrighten our eyes.

Fool of Lasan, reveler, jokester,
unweighted by cares of time and tide,
respite of the busy and mirth of the sullen:
let us be you in celebration!
Come, dancing and laughing,
fill us with joy
and banish our doubt.

(To these my mother added the following verse.)

Seer of Lasan, wise and lovely,
filled with the Ashla even as you wander,
tears bright on cheek-stripes, in search of your lost one:
let me be you in time of exile.
Come, take my hand in yours,
fill me with hope,
and let us search together.

Spoiler: Notes

The Warrior, the Child, and the Fool are of course the three figures in the Lasat Prophecy of the Three, expounded on in the Rebels episode “Legends of the Lasat.” On the Seer, my fanon addition to that prophecy (certainly it can have more than one version, as ones on earth do!), see Light of Lasan, chapter 2; and Shaman, Traveler, Oracle, chapter 25.

Berura of Crystalflint Island is one of my fanon Lasat sages of yore, one of the ancient female mystics Shulma often studied; besides mentions in various parts of Shaman, Traveler, Oracle, see also Our Big Fat Lasat Wedding, chapter 3.

 

Thank you all so much!

Thanks! Sometimes adding something new to an ancient tradition is the best way to keep it alive—that’s how they likely were made to begin with. And if it’s something new that has a little of yourself in it, even better! It shows how alive and relevant the tradition still is. (Proof that the Empire, in this case, did not ultimately win!)

Thank you, I appreciate that! Glad you enjoyed it.

Thank you so much! One can of course be the Warrior, the Child, or the Fool (or the Seer!) at different times and in different situations, and all of those figures live within every Lasat and have their positive and negative attributes. Now that she’s in exile from her homeworld after its devastation by the Empire, Shulma is considering these figures, and her own role in relation to them, in a whole new way. It is a way of keeping her own hope up and just plain continuing to survive against all odds, and I’m so glad you enjoyed!

 

Just a wee bit of catching up.

Oh, I like this so much better than canon, already.

The voice you sounded for DJ was just so interesting - fast and slick and sharp. I love the details you managed to work in about Canto Bight, too! They really made the world come alive.

Headcanon accepted!

Mynock Minute is a fantastic name and I love that it came from the wook.

Then, this small act of kindness said so much about DJ!

Now this is a version of DJ I can get behind - well done, making a previously dislikable character very sympathetic.

This was fantastic imagery!

Every word of this poem was lovely - so I'm just going to quote the wording that really stood out to me and sprinkle in some heart emojis. I could really quote everything, though - to no one's surprise, of course! I thought of your work as soon as the poetry prompt was first posted.

This reminded me of Zeb, in particular! Though the great thing about the Four is that they can be anyone at different points in time. I really appreciate how you carried that theme through here.

I love how celebratory this felt!

Lovely. It's so fitting that Shulma contributed her own verse to the song! As much as she's keeping the old ways alive, she's adding to them, too, and there's something so incredibly beautiful about that.


Fantastic job with these, again! I can't wait to see what you come up with next.

 

No worries, your comments make my day whenever they come!

Thanks! Though DJ standing for “don’t join” is indeed a detail that came from the Wook—maybe established in one of the comics or some such. But I figured it would be something he’d be especially proud to state and introduce about himself.

Thank you! It turned out to be fun researching Canto Bight, and of course various games that could be played there. Once I saw how much the character fit his setting, it all became much more enjoyable!

Thanks—I know I’m doing my job if that happens! Again, given how deeply knowledgeable DJ clearly is about Canto Bight and all that goes on there, it makes sense that he might have grown up there, too. (And as far as I can see, nothing says he didn’t!)

I know, isn’t it, though? Absolutely perfect GFFA racehorse name! When I saw that on the list @Raissa Baiard sent me, I knew it was the one. (Though before I saw that list and knew of any of those canon names, I thought about “Ascendancy”! I still think she might be another one. )

For just a moment (a “mynock minute,” maybe), he remembers what it was like to be a stable boy himself—and those kind of moments can make such a difference!

Thank you so much! I’m so glad you enjoyed this and found it effective—here, too, I know I’ve done my job!

Thank you! The bo-rifle is a very elegant and beautiful weapon, and I wanted that too to be an aspect of the Warrior and the Three.

Well, shucks, thanks. The poetry prompt was definitely one I was pretty excited to try out (and I was pretty sure I wanted to do something in the area of the Lasat), and I’m proud that you enjoyed the results! <3

YES! I hadn’t noticed it, but you’re so right—those very active, motile aspects of the Child really are a perfect match for Zeb. And I have indeed always loved the idea that any of the Three can be present in anyone at various times. (Or any of the Four!) They’ve all been part of both Zeb and Shulma at various points in their lives. How else could they be able to survive what they’ve survived?

Thanks! It was a bit hard to know what to do with the Fool, as that one wasn’t expanded on in LotL as much as the other two. But I wanted to run with the most positive aspects of each, and carefree joy and lightheartedness just seemed to fit for the Fool as a sort of jester or clown figure.

Oh, thank you! And absolutely spot on—one could say that adding to those old ways is a very important way of keeping them alive—a way of showing how valuable and relevant they still are, even when all seems lost.

And again, many thanks to you, as always, for your awesome comments and for just being here and enjoying!

 

10. In the Name of the Mists

Prompt: Write a story between 300 and 1,000 words in the format of a letter.
Characters: Zuckuss, writing to Telfien (OC)
Summary: Zuckuss confides to his beloved student his reasons for leaving his homeworld—without her.
Notes: Once again, as usual, I thank @Raissa Baiard for beta reading. This letter and the characters it references relate to the universe established in The Book of Gand and my other Gand stories (see the endnote for a list).

Spoiler: Some further details but no actual spoilers

What you mainly need to know for this story is that:
(a) Zuckuss’s father Fengor (OC) is one of Gand’s highest-ranking Findsmen and feels threatened by his son’s prodigious talent for various reasons; (b) that Telfien was Zuckuss’s student/mentee/subapprentice and has prodigious Mist talent of her own; and (c) that they may be developing feelings for each other.
If the events described in this story feel somewhat indeterminate for now, it is because they are, and I am still in the process of working out many details of Zuckuss and Telfien’s relationship and respective departures from Gand. This piece serves as an initial sketch or exercise as I begin reapplying my mind to continuing (and eventually concluding)The Book of Gand.

---

Zuckuss Ng’xvi-Ta’al-Lhúd greets the mystical honor of the Findslady Telfien Viurraanvi.

Zuckuss does not know whether he will still be here in the temple by the time you receive this. He does not know where you will be— who knows but you yourself may have left by then (you would have good reason so to do). Zuckuss supposes that it does not matter much. He could, of course, consult the Mists about it, but that would likely be futile, for of late they only show him one thing: the nameless, mist-killing menace that is to come.

But you and Zuckuss shall not talk of that now. The reason for his departure is simple: he simply can no longer be where his father is.

You know of his father’s high and unique rank among Findsmen, of his fear of losing that rank, and of his jealousy of Zuckuss’s exceptional talent, the reason Zuckuss is called the Uncanny One. Exceptional talent: Zuckuss knows you will be shocked at those words— if you were with him, you would chide him with arrogance. But Zuckuss assures you that he speaks only the unexaggerated truth. You, after all, have the same talent; or, if a different one, one at least equally exceptional.

Perhaps you think, also, that by forsaking his homeworld Zuckuss is conceding defeat. Ah, how wrong you would be, dear young one! No, it is Father who will ultimately be defeated. To build up his one pride he needs one whom he can tear down; who better than his Dear Youngest? But without Zuckuss, he will have no one to whom to compare himself— and that will sap him. As for Zuckuss, he will be free of the old overkreetle’s meddling forever. His talent will serve new worlds and new purposes.

And what of the menace, you may wonder? Zuckuss did say he would not talk of it. But conscience bids him warn you that it is not far off. It is coming, and it will scatter the Mists of Gand. Do not fear; that sounds worse than it really is, for a good Findsman knows that the true abode of the Mists is within each Gand mind and thorax. Zuckuss is not at all worried for you; you are wise and you have seen adversity. Because Zuckuss’s father has not, he will not know what to do— and that will be his own well-deserved undoing.

So, let them think that is what drove Zuckuss away. Let them think it was external causes, external events. A nameless, faceless, lung-burning menace from somewhere else, beyond any Gand’s control drove him to this pass, forced him to take to the stars— exiled him, if you prefer that word. But you, more than any Gand, will know the truth: that nothing drives Zuckuss Ng’xvi-Ta’al-Lhúd to do anything except his own will and purpose. Zuckuss has chosen his path, and he will not turn back.

But none of this is to say, dear Telfien, that Zuckuss forsakes you easily. As long as Zuckuss has known you, you have been a gem, a light, and a treasure to him. He holds you in heart and thorax always, in each facet of his eyes. Perhaps the fogs will flee so that you and he may see each other once more. Perhaps.

Farewell, Telfien Viurraanvi, in the name of the Mists. They alone shall guard you and show you the way.

fin

Spoiler: Notes and related stories

My other Gand stories (in no particular order):
The Book of Gand
Mistless (earlier in this thread)
Between the Porch and the Altar
The Chronomaker and the Findsman
Hoses, Masks, and Canisters
In Your Vault, In Your Mists, In Your Song
What She Saw

Overkreetle (The wiki entry lists them as native to Tatooine, but I could see similar creatures also existing on Gand, where I imagine the dominant forms of life to be arthropodal rather than mammalian.)

Zuckuss’s surname Ng’xvi-Ta’al-Lhúd is my own creation and used in my Gand stories, and I confess I have trouble pronouncing it, too!