Weekend* Treasure Hunt 20: You Never Walk Alone

[Kira Vaal]

“So —“ Kira gave the cliff face a long winded look, chucking in a raised eyebrow. “—this is the great hide out of Captain Gideon Suwanee?”

“No, this is a cliff.” Threxaj too raised an eyebrow but this one was aimed at Kira herself who paused looking at her map in hand to poke her tongue out towards the sometimes oblivious Messassi warrior.

“Well done Threxaj, you just graduated with full honours.” Kira snarled towards her red skinned protector. “Threepex get the professor here a nice graduation certificate on behalf of him being so damn smart.”

“I don’t think I have the means to print out any such—“ The droid began to mutter.

“It was a joke Threepe.” Kira’s forehead found her hand as she realised the truth. “I’m surrounding by idiots.”

“Kira of Vaal,—“ Threxaj took a step towards her with a serious look on his face. “—What is graduated?”

“Yep. Idiots.”

Today was turning out to be better and better, first there was the race through the canyons to draw out the pirates, a race that Kira had sworn she was going to kill herself on and then found out midway through had not been necessary, thanks to the droids botched original scans failing to find the apparent secret entrance to their secret stash.

Yep it was a great day.

“The map clearly states the entrance is right here.” Kira waved a hand towards the cliff wall that blocked their path. “There is no confusing it. It should be right—“ She took several steps through the sand. “—Here.” *Clunk* A deep echo sounded out from beneath her feet causing Kira’s eyes to open wide. She lifted her boot and tapped it back down on the ground creating yet again another clunk and echo. “Trap door? Of course.”

The ropes had been lowered down the shaft that had been uncovered by the removal of the trap door. Kira remaining quiet in her frustration at being blindsided by a simple hatch for so long. Instead she concentrated on hoisting herself down, the lumbering form of Threxaj coming from above her. A luminescent rod had been thrown down first revealing a metal grated floor beneath them, an easy climb, but not a fall one would want to make uncontrolled. The taste of adventure was thick in the air and for Kira anticipation was starting to build.

“We’re in.” Kira spoke into her wrist mounted com that linked Threxaj and C-3PX to herself. “Threepe remain with the ship, lock her down and wait for us.” She watched as the ropes started to disappear back up the shaft towards the bright dessert day light above. They were stuck in here now, where ever it was.

“It smells in here.” Threxaj stated as he followed Kira down what appeared to be a hallway, wires and metal everywhere lit only by the glow tube that she held in her outstretched hand. “What is this place anyway.”

“If I’ve heard right it’s the old remains of a long destroyed warship. Probably Imperial, from back in the civil war days.” Kira could see the instant signs of it’s design, as an archeologist you got to learn these things. From the way the walls sat against the bulkheads to the amount of lights per corridor, it all painted a picture. “Seems Captain Gideon has made himself quite the treasure vault.”

Threxaj seemed mesmerised with the ship, his eyes wide every time they entered a new corridor. “This treasure you seek, what is it. Will it aid the Master?”

“Raien? No probably not.” She had to be honest, the Messassi had risked his life plenty of times for her. “But wait until you see it. Gideon’s been preying on starships throughout Hutt Space for decades, never once has he been caught. He’d have a small fortune down here.”

“So we are after currency?” Threxaj seemed put off by the idea, even offended. “Why? Why do you seek mere currency when we could be aiding the Master in his advance to power.” His voice began to get angry, a sign that Kira knew meant he was probably going to swing his sword through something.

“I’m not after credits.” She attempted to calm him as she spoke. “Within this hold is a particular item I need, it holds the key to help me find something I’ve been looking for, something that will help Raien.”

“So it will help the Master!” Threxaj smiled, a renewed energy about him. “Then we should advance.”

“Shhh.” Kira raised her hand and slunk against the wall. Ahead there were the sounds of voices, not to many but several more than she was hoping. “Frak. There are some still here.” The pair advanced with stealth down the corridor until they came to a balcony above a large hold, a grated bulkhead offering them vantage over the scene below.

The hold was full of crates and mess, the treasure stack Kira had stated would exist. From pearls to metal plate it was all here. Yet in the very middle of it stood five armed humanoids, the tallest, a Devaronian with thick, white horns was busy barking at a cowering human. Kira couldn’t hear it properly, but she heard some mention of the canyon situation. “Ahh so it would seem that Captain Gideon decided to stay at home did he? Threxaj—“ Turning to where the Messassi Warrior was stood she realised that he was gone. “—Threxaj?” She returned her eyes to the group below.

“Oh no!?”

917 words
+885 words (post 1)
Grand Total = 1802 Words

 

[Lief]

[Previous] | [Next]

He lay there for some time, awash with twisted thoughts and memories he felt certain were not his own. The laughter had died down now, no doubt they had lost him somewhere in the madness. Or perhaps they were lying in wait, biding their time. Of course that made little sense, seeing as a wounded animal was much easier to put down than one permitted to become feral. With a groan he rolled onto his front and pushed himself up from the ground, his already messy clothes now caked in a thick layer of mud.

All signs of what had happened had, by this point, vanished. No blood or bodies, not even the horrific shade of his brother stained his vision. Blinking several times he made certain that this was the case, before cautiously taking a few steps forward. The crunch of twigs underfoot had him cringing, but the world around him showed no signs of listening.

Satisfied he hurried on. There had to be some way off this blasted world, with its crazy natives and all too real visions. By this point dehydration had already kicked in, yet he pressed on with sheer willpower all the same. Finally the jungle turned into nothingness, and he stepped out onto the edge of a large lake. To one side stood a shack, a boat in the water at its front. All that Shor could see was the sweet, sweet water. Making his way over to its shore he knelt into the sand and began to hungrily gulp down cupped handfuls of it, before pouring some over his head.

Then he sat back and stared up. The sun had been eclipsed by the horizon, leaving stars dotting the sky. While the shack called to him, he had no intentions of running into more of the natives and instead lay back in the dirt. He had not found what he was looking for, only a glimpse of what was to come. But hopefully that would change, at any rate he owed it to Blaise to try. Wasn't that what Shor had always done, after all?

1339/2000

 

[Kira Vaal]

“I can’t believe you even thought coming too me with this news was a good idea!” Gideon was angry, the Devaronian pacing around the knelt figure of a human who looked worse for wear. “When you lot signed up I promised you all wealth, riches beyond imagining—“ He stopped pacing and leaned over the man with an imposing smile. “—and haven’t I delivered on my promises Cath?”

“Y-y-yes Cap.” Cath replied, fear quivering his voice. “Twice fold.”

“Exactly. A yes. I delivered on every promise I made to all of you for you hard services to our cause.” Gideon’s hand rolled over the hilt of an ornate sword at his waist. “All I asked in return was a group of men willing to put their lives on the line for said cause and do you know what I got in return Cath?”

“We did —“ The man’s eyes were wide as Gideon’s blade was withdrawn from it’s sheath, the vibroblade humming loudly as it hungered for flesh. “—We laid down our lives, all of them, all of them did. He just, the devil Gideon, the devil!”

“All of them except you Cath?” Gideon placed both hands onto the hilt of his sword and raised it to his shoulder. “You couldn’t have seen the devil. You’ve been working for him for years fool!” The blade swung and Cath’s head rolled across the floor leaving Gideon with a foul taste in his mouth. “Clean this up, and start moving the goods to the transports. I fear we may have visitors.”

Another head rolled, this time from the rear of the hold. The Zabrak’s horns scrapping the metal floor as Threxaj charged from the darkness into the midst of the group bellowing a loud war cry as he did. A shoulder charge threw a charging pirate to the ground, a heavy swung fist smashing the face of another and all this before the first shot was fired.

“Well —“ Gideon smirked as he adjusted his grip on his blade, watching the red brute tear into his men while maintaining distance himself. “—Isn’t this interesting.” His smile was wiped off his face as the assailant shrugged off a direct blaster hit to the chest and continued to wave death around with his wickedly bladed sword. “KILL HIM! YOU IDIOTS!”

A shot impacted into one of his own sharpshooters who were finding position, it would seem the combat focused beast had an assistant of his own. Withdrawing his own blaster Gideon raised it up and began to loose shot after shot into the balcony above. His eyes scattering between his hits and the beast that was advancing through his men.

“DIE!” He shot a bolt at Threxaj who stumbled slightly before closing the distance and knocked the blaster flying with one heavy swing of his arm. Gideon raised his blade to stop the sword that was swung his way from cleaning his head off. It was do or die and Gideon knew what he had to do.

Run.

He swung his blade up and managed to get a cut across the Messassi’s chest, splitting his flesh with a spray of blood. Threxaj screamed and fell backwards upon a nearby pile of scrap. He could finish him, Gideon knew he could but there were better ways to make sure you survived. Shots peppered after the Devaronian Pirate as he turned tail and ran, a blast door sliding down and sealing behind him.

Always better to live another day.

This Post: 582
First Post: 885
Second Post: 917
Grand Total: 2384

 

[Daedel]

The din of waiting initiates was rising with every moment as she stood leaning once again on her spear. Her brown eyes scanned the faces as she wondered which of her fellows would be her first opponent. It was common for names to be drawn at random but sometimes initiates that were troublesome or with the most to prove were given the most difficult opponets. She was not aware that today she would be tested in such a way, but she could still feel the crimson dawn was telling of storms to come. Fingers tightened on the haft of her spear as the clan mother stepped onto the platform overlooking the waiting girls and few men that had earned a chance to compete. She could feel the quickening of her heart in her throat as the blood pulsed in her veins like a torrent. Backs stiffened and silence fell like a shroud at the raised hand of the still hale old woman. The woman and high priestess of the clan look upon them seeming to meet each initiates eyes with her eyes like copper rings on a white sail. Every breaherseemed to catch in every throat as the woman's lips parted and began what would be their fates. Everything rested on this moment. Their place in the clan, their rank among thier peers, and for the slaves that earned a chance to compete their freedom. The crowd held its collective breath and the woman's voice began to pour out like honey wine.

"Today, today begins your accent to glory. You have studied at the feet of masters, sparred with one another, sparred with instructors, and now you stand ready to be tested." she paused scanning faces, "For those of you in your first year of training this is the first test and there will be many more gauntlets before your training is complete. For those of you who are in your final year of training remember your training remember who you are and that this day will decide your jobs, ranks and rights. This day decides your future and you should fight as if each match could be your last. Withhold nothing daughters and nothing will unattainable for you." the old woman in her regalia smoothed her robes before folding her hands beneath her breast. "As a reminder, only final year initiates are permitted to take life, and only in the matches on the final day. If by chance younger initiates make it into the final day matches they will be treated as if they are final year students and face death with the others. You may forfeit at any time during the gauntlet but on the final day those you forfeit to can choose to take your life. If they do not take you life it belongs to that student until the next gauntlet or until you die whichever comes first." she lifted her chin the black and white paint in her face ghostly in the reddish light of the sun, "first pairings are now posted behind you on the storm totem. First match is Daedel and Tikala. Retrieve you weapons and armor at ring one entrance and begin in ten minutes. That is all."

She stepped away and left the platform to move to her seats above the rings and Daedel began making her way to her first opponent.

555 + 616 = 1171

 

[Khallesh]

Crap, was aiming for brevity, but I'm only through the intro. POV switch and a gentle pace for this part. 1697 words.




[SIZE=14.6667px]Jun Paarth swirled the blood-red liquid around in the crystal goblet, before raising it to her nose and breathing deep from its scent. She lowered the glass to her lips and took a sip, savouring the taste on her tongue, before allowing it to wash down her throat. As she placed the goblet back to the table she was briefly distracted by the myriad of colours the etched glass cast across her feast, before Khallesh Val strode into the room. Jun noted how much the naive girl tried to hide the fact that every step with her left was agony. She also noticed the look of consternation that crossed the warrior's face as she looked across spread on the table, before her eyes landed on the glass. The object was as alien to their world, as an ooglith was to the galaxy's inhabitants. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"I find that storing the wine in a worm completely ruins the flavour," Jun explained, but she could immediately see that the explanation had meant little to her pawn. Not a pawn anymore, Jun mused, a knight or a rook, to use the names of the pieces of that classical human game. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Such a simple little girl, and yet Khallesh had exceeded expectations to become one of the most useful tools to use in the shaper's constant scheming. All this after Jun Paarth had assumed she had thrown the piece away. She might not even have directly advised Khallesh to challenge Shuun for command of Domain Val's warriors, but she had inexorably set her down that path. In truth, she had expected her to fall, but in doing so keep the ultra-traditional Shuun away from talks where the future of several Domains was decided. Sacrifice was one of the lessons she had learned from human games. However, once again Khallesh had stubbornly clung on to life, and come out on top. Thirty was young by Yuuzhan Vong standards, which meant there was perhaps still time for growth, or change under the right conditions.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"Please, do sit," Jun offered in her singsong voice. The stoic commander stayed upright on the raw flesh of her new leg. "Sit," she repeated in a more commanding tone. "I will be offended if you don't."[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Khallesh looked affronted for a moment, before taking a seat. Her grace was such that she almost completely hid how awkward the manoeuvre must have been. As important as Khallesh now was, she was still the hopelessly naive and xenophobic creature she had always been to Jun. A useful, but blunt tool. She needed direction, even if it was through the shaper's subtle manipulations. Unfortunately she had, like most products of Domain Val, been subject to exceedingly traditional views since infancy. At least, in Khallesh, Jun had putty that could perhaps still take a mould, unlike her predecessor. Hopefully she would be receptive. After all, Khallesh was not so dense that she was unaware of how much of her success could be directly attributed to Jun Paarth's manipulations. But which path to take? A gradual introduction of new concepts, or a shock to the system to challenge her views?[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"How is the leg?"Jun asked, decided to dictate the flow of conversation for a while. She could test the waters, as it were, before deciding. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"I am grateful that the gods saw fit to permit the escalation," Khallesh replied without pause. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Jun had to exert a modicum of self control to avoid rolling her eyes. "The pain will recede in a few days," she offered curtly. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]The relief could not be entirely hidden by the stoic warrior it seemed. "Will it always itch? The foot, that is," Khallesh replied, lowering her gaze as if ashamed to ask.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"Perhaps. The talons are something we haven't tried before. The poison glands sit in the base of your foot and feed the two talons that can extend both from large toe and heel," Paarth replied. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"Oh. Then it is not being rejected?"[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"Khallesh, before the great shaper Faust Paarth, creator of the twenty fifth cortex, died, he commented on how deft a touch I had with the flesh of my subjects. I am not so unskilled as to apply any incompatible alterations," Jun said. She watched Khallesh' expression carefully, looking for any reaction to the minor blasphemy. She found the lack of response distinctly interesting, and decided that perhaps Khallesh was ready to have her way of life challenged abruptly.. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"Did you know, that humans actually eat for pleasure," Jun said as she picked up a delicate cake between thumb and forefinger. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"No, actually I did not," Khallesh replied, a look of disgust plastered across her features. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"Indeed. Not only do they while away their time fornicating, and playing games, but they make themselves fat by overindulging in the simple act of replenishing their water and energy reserves. Their taste buds remain the product of evolution, from an ancestor that foraged, and hunted. They have far more taste buds than us, to allow them to sort through acceptable and poisonous foods. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"So, I decided to better understand them, by altering my own palate to attempt to match the experience they receive," Jun explained, before popping the cake into her mouth. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Of course, the simple warrior's expression switched to utter revulsion. She actually pushed back off the table and stood up. Jun could barely contain her mirth. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"Please, spare me the talk of heresy for a few minutes. If you continue to bore me, your next escalation might not be so... compatible."[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Jun watched the internal struggle playing across Khallesh's face with interest. She kept one finger pointed in the direction of the youthful commander, but nonchalantly. It wouldn't completely surprise the shaper if she foolishly went for her weapon, and needed to be subdued. Instead Khallesh seemed to finish on a look of suspicion, before taking her chair again. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"Surely what you could learn from such a simple experience, does not balance the risk of making yourself closer to... them," Khallesh replied. Jun was pleasantly surprised that her blunt tool was able to produce such a reasoned response, when her sensibilities must have been offended to such a degree. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"Maybe, but we have been reviewing how soundly they thrashed us in the last war for a long time. We've talked about this before Khallesh Val. We have to adapt and change if history is not to repeat itself. Sweet things are almost addictive to them. They taste astoundingly good too. They live in a constant state of trying to balance the excesses available to them, with discipline. They constantly walk that precipice, but their species covers the full range, from lazy gluttons to individuals with greater discipline and resolve that any Yuuzhan Vong warrior. Can you say the same about your caste? Of course not. We have chosen the correct way to be and enforced it through genetic manipulation, and training."[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"Have we not moved closer to the gods?" Khallesh asked, but Jun was certain she noticed the Warrior almost look disappointed in her rhetoric. Jun waited a moment to see if she would add anything else. There were a few awkward seconds, before Khallesh mused: "With so many species, and so many individuals, they are already suited to adapt to a situation. Even if through trial and error."[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"Quite, we killed billions before they rallied. Now try the cake," Jun replied, oddly commenting on genocide and dessert in the same casual tone. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Khallesh picked up one with green frosting, looking at it suspiciously, before popping it into her mouth. She gave it a brief chew and swallowed it. "It's food," she said with a shrug. Her expression changed from one of indifference to one of curiosity. Jun saw the warrior give a quick look over her shoulder, before she asked in a whisper: "What does it taste like to you?" [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"Distinctly pleasurable, but hard to describe I'm afraid," Jun replied. "But you are quite right, I learned little from adjusting myself this way. But it was fun," she added in a conspiratorial tone. Now it was time to get to the heart of the matter. The stubborn warrior was perhaps not entirely a product of her doctrine. There was a curiosity there, buried deep down. If Khallesh was going to serve Jun's cause, she would need a far greater understanding of the infidels. She would need to get close to them, without letting her prejudices compromise her. Jun Paarth had many dirty little jobs that needed doing, and Khallesh was a prime candidate to carry them out. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"Their games," she continued, "are not as trivial as they seem. They teach strategic value, physical skills, but they allow their infants to choose those to which they are most suited. I have learned a great deal from their games, starting with those that their great commanders were known to play. Sabacc and chess are particularly interesting," Jun waited to see if this elicited the appropriate response. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]It took a moment, but the stubborn warrior got there. "You could, I suppose, show me some of these games. If you think they would help me understand the infidel's strategy."[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"Of course, it wouldn't be a bother, it would be my pleasure," Jun replied. Khallesh was so easy to manipulate, it almost made the Master shaper feel bad. "I have an old friend who plays one of their games. An exceedingly cut-throat game where only those who can cast aside their morales survive, and the weak and kind perish. You could perhaps visit him and his people, and see how some Yuuzhan Vong have gone "native". [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]To Jun's surprise, Khallesh' eyes lit up. "I have heard of the fighting pits of Rattaka. Where the most terrifying creatures are brought together and made to fight for the pleasure of the audience!" [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]So, the perfect little follower of the True Way did look into the infidel's culture from time to time, Jun mused. She had to cover a smile with her hand, as she imagined the warrior as a child, fawning over a poster of her favourite pit fighter. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“No, I’m afraid his chosen career is far more abhorrent. Will is in Sales.”[/SIZE]

 

[Kira Vaal]

“THREXAJ!” Kira literally came diving down from the balcony firing her blaster at the retreating form of Gideon as he ran like the coward he was. She knew she couldn’t catch him though, plus there was a more important matter to attend to. “Threxaj—“ She ran to her Messassi protector who was slouched over a metal crate, his injury severe enough to have caused a large puddle of his own blood to form beneath him. “—Are you? You’re hurt!” She holstered her blaster and started to fuss around his chest.

“Leave it Kira of Vaal.” Threxaj grunted, pushing himself up to his full height. “I have suffered worse, I shall tend to it once aboard the ship.” He went to retrieve his blade from the battleground leaving Kira in shock at his resilience and toughness.

“You sure man?” She watched him fail to pick up the blade with his right arm, a heavy grimace indicating more injuries beneath the flesh. “I mean I’d hate to have to tell Raien I got his little Messassi Prince killed.”

“I am not a Prince.” The sword was placed within his back sheath by his left arm, which seemed uninjured. “It shall take more than that to kill me.” He smirked and looked around the hold. “Shall we see what you so eagerly sought Kira of Vaal?”

“Of course.” Kira moved off to the closest pile of loot and began pulling it away and looking it over. She tossed a large crystal aside, making it join a growing pile of rare and valuable items, a pile she had no interest in. “Come on, it has to be here somewhere.” She pulled over a particularly large statue made of solid gold and ignored Threxaj as he took handfuls of credit chips from the ground.

“This treasure, it would be enough to buy one an army.” The wounded Messassi muttered. “Why was it kept here, away from being used for a purpose?” His satchel had become heavy with the discarded credit chips, even he realised how useful currency was in this galaxy despite his earlier prohibitions.

“Gideon was a jealous man, cautious and afraid.” Kira called out over a mound of scrap metal. “All this would have remained here long after his death if we hadn’t shown up. Now do me a favour and look for—“ She paused and shifted one particularly large piece of metal. Beneath it lay exactly what she had been looking for. “—BINGO!”

The crates were heavy, but Threxaj did a brilliant job assisting Kira’s removal of them. Each one was hoisted up by C-3PX by the same ropes and shaft that they had used to enter the cavity of the cruiser skeleton. Three in all, two loaded with simple treasure, credits, metals and the like. The third however, that held something far more precious. Something Kira’s entire career had so far been spent trying to find.

Today was indeed a good day.


This Post: 492
First Post: 885
Second Post: 917
Third Post: 582
Grand Total: 2876
THE END

 

[Daedel]

Swords...she hated swords but Talika had weapon choice as a final year student. The leather on the sword hilt groaned in her hands as she wrung the hilt like wet cloth. They had swords and three throwing knives each for armor it was made with spirit ichor and similar to alchemist's steel but covered only chest and back.

Her eyes narrowed and crowds roared as she and her opponent enter from opposite sides on the fenced ring. The other girl strong and lithe with the grace of a dancer and the strength of bull nerf. She was head and shoulders taller than Daedel and at least 60 lbs heavier. It was a mismatch if there could be one. Both faces painted with blue symbols of the same family they stood and faced eachother before turning and bowing to the clan mother and woman's circle of elders. This was their way, their path to adulthood and glory.

The two straightened once more and instantly began to circle one another both looking for an opening to attack. Daedel was the inferior but she studied hard and had an inborn tenacity that made her stand out in her classes. Talika knew that as well and had the benefit of experience.

A step, then two sent tiny billows of dust into the air as Daedel lunged forward with a feint to Talika's forward shoulder. As she expected the other girl did not parry but turned her hips to let the blow pass and carry Daedel into range of a severe blow. Daedel had counted on the smart tactic and thrust her back hand out releasing a throwing knife at her opponent's ribs. The knife did not turn in the air but flew straight and true to split the threads at the joints of the armor and lodged in Talika's rib causing her to drop to the ground at Daedel's feet. Her deep brown eyes fixed on the green of Talika's as she fell. Daedel wasted no time and fell upon her like a raptor on carrion and placed the sword edge to Talika's throat.

A horn sounded the match was over and in that short span of moments, Daedel had done what should not have been possible and not a hint of spell was used by either. She would continue and her peers would be talking about it for days to come. The two girls embraced and bowed to the elders before walking out to get their next matches. They would fight twice more today different opponents and tomorrow it would begin again....

Later that night.

She had fought three matches and three times she had won but her body was cut bruised and ached in places she had never hurt before. The salve she slathered over her bruises and cuts smelled strongly of amonia and herbs but would it set her right before the Dathomir sun rose again, she couldn't say but as healing of students with spells was forbidden during the gauntlet it would have to do. Slowly she drank a mug of water and ate a meal of meat and vegetables before she finally gave way to fatigue and drifted to sleep. Day two would not be so easy.

616 + 555 + 538 = 1709

 

[Jared Starchaser]

Post Seven.

That was the thing about war, and combat. Only the names would change, the situations were able to be broken down into a few, and most everything could be claimed as one scene. You versus them. It wasn’t glamorous, sure, there was money involved, but the Warbird Wing, they were PMCs with a purpose. Sometimes soldiers of fortune, but only so much that it suited their needs. Eliminate the disasters in the galaxy, the Sith, the false Empires, the Yuuzhan Vong. Allow the rest to grow. They were founded by the belief that the Empire and the Republic could co-exist. Keep their own worlds, and not bother with one another. Galactic control wasn’t necessary, what was necessary was that people had freedom.

The Empire, to the Starchasers and the Treader wasn’t the totalitarian government it had been hyped to be. Truthfully, the Empire did many good things for its citizens. It kept them safe, safe from the outside, safe from the inside. It provided them jobs, it allowed people to attain the highest skill that they could. To be the best them. The best you that you could be. It was about living and serving and existing with distinction and honor. The two words that were engraved above the bulkhead to the pilot’s ready room.

Distinction and Honor.

There were fair fights, there were unfair fights. But so long as you kept to that principle, you were fine. War was war, and that became many different shades of gray. But here? This world… there was honor in Jared’s actions. He was providing something for his family to grab onto, and finding something that was very important to him, to give to [member="Marselia Urstalis"], the most important being to him. It might not be much, but for Jared?

It’d let him sleep better. And for the soldier, those nights were the ones he needed most.

Sure, it was more mechanical, what he did, but he could feel the pilots. Their lives still were there, it wasn’t the detached feeling that some could get, point and shoot, and not hearing the cries, seeing the blood. You got an explosion and moved on to the next target. But he could feel the lives. And he knew he was pure in his purpose. It was something he heard on one datacron or another that his father had kept during a campaign to wipe out an Imperial warlord who was going against everything the Empire should be.

They moved, they came at him spitting their language and moving their amphistaffs. He dropped his bag and rolled, squeezing off three shots in rapid succession from his knee, taking the face of one of the Vong down. He had the jump on them, that was the only excuse. Tossing the blaster to the side, he’d grab it after, he reached for his lightsaber. The second Vong stepped in too close. This was not how Jared did his killing.

He would much rather take down a Coralskipper with a shadowbomb, asymmetrical warfare, was the term, but now? The white lightsaber skipped to life as he looked at the Vong and got to his feet. The blade caught amphistaff and Jared engaged. He shoved the warrior back and called the Force to him. A barrier wasn’t going to do much against someone who was Force dead.

But rocks certainly would.

Ranged combat, it was better than a saber. He used the Force to start hurling the planet itself against the invader. Jared’s style with a saber was sloppy, and he was taking many hits when the Vong did close on him, but he had one thing he could do, and that was knock the Vong back, strong kicks, or rolls away gave the pilot time to think, time to react and respond how he would.

That meant rocks. And making one roll for his blaster. Several shots brutalized the face of the warrior. From there, it was simple. Jared responded how he always did. Knowing he needed to fight to survive, his life was that of war, of conflict. It would end sometime, hopefully before he was in a box. But he had a future in this galaxy, and he had family.

He needed to protect them, make the galaxy safe for those beings. And that was why he came here. Making connections, finding himself, and reminding himself of what he needed to do. Why he was here and where he was going.

(2477+745= 3222)

THE END​

 

[Ashin Varanin]

IC/ In their travels, [member="Jared Starchaser"], [member="Kira Vaal"], [member="Matsu Ike"], [member="Cerita Sarova"], and [member="Kana Truden"] have stumbled across various items.​

​

Starchaser has found a crate of DL-13 holdout blasters, the ultimate in concealable gunslinger backup weaponry.​

Kira Vaal has found a lost relic of unspeakable gravitas: the Bat Belt of Jethro Merrill.​

Matsu Ike has uncovered an ancient set of seven Dantooine Spheres.​

Cerita Sarova discovered a sheet of velokite, 10cm x 10cm x 2mm.​

Kana Truden has found the lightsabre of Ember Rekali. Using it near the Yavin System is not recommended.​

​

OOC/​

​

COMPLETED​

[member="Jared Starchaser"] - my first advice would be to start with a stronger hook, something a bit closer to in media res. Your first, oh, thousand words are backstory and introspection and character motivation. While you've got that nailed down, consistent, and interesting, in a short-story SFF format it's not your best choice for an intro. There's definitely a solid core to this story, once you pare away a good chunk of the exposition. Fighter pilot who's a dubious gunslinger, family pilgrimage on a desert world, aliens his other talents can't directly affect - I'm sold on that.
[member="Kira Vaal"] - felt like I was reading vintage Star Wars Adventure Journal, or Larry Correia or something. Started in media res, good momentum, good escalating tension, distinct voices for each character, efficiently drawn adventuring party. The ending fell just a little flat, but your story's MICE quotient priorities were clear and you stuck to your guns. The aim was fun, and you delivered.
[member="Matsu Ike"] - as always with your writing, strong focus on atmosphere and action. You're good with settings and you love exploring them through a newcomer's eyes, which is an ideal way to work a story that's focused on the setting. Some of your sentence constructions interfered with clarity; don't be afraid to shift toward simpler sentences, and avoid overusing the 'was ___ing' construction. I'm definitely fuzzy on Matsu's motivations for most of the story, and it doesn't really feel like there's an ending. If I were you, I'd take that focus on atmosphere and setting and tie that into your character's emotions in a more concrete way. Play to your strengths.
[member="Cerita Sarova"] - there's some dang cool stuff in here. I can't remember the last time someone made Korriban come alive for me as something other than desert and ruins. Nice hint of Lovecraft. Loved the great magician, couldn't figure out the point or the motivation of the cookie-cutter rogue girl that Cerita met. The ending was stronger in the context of the characters you were borrowing than as a stand-alone. Between the ending and the meeting with Rave, I'm thinking you could have made a stronger showing by taking this from 4k to 5.5k. I'd avoid things like MacGuffin and the rest of the meta commentary when it damages immersion. Great setting, great atmosphere, fun little arc. Nicely done.
[member="Kana Truden"] - it's definitely clear that this is part of a larger plotline rather than a self-contained story. Which isn't bad, necessarily. It's exactly what play-by-post RP is. There's some strong moments here, too. I'd have loved to hear more about the father, what she expected when she went to find him, maybe a hint more backstory (or something indicative of it). Feels like the culmination of something big, and a major turning point.

IN PROGRESS​

​

[member="Daedel"] - you've got strong stakes and interesting risks. It's clear that the events of your story matter to your character, but her portrayal isn't overwhelmed by emotions. Good balance. Carry on.
[member="Snowflake"] - very strong introduction. Tension maintained throughout. Good characterization. Nicely done. Looking forward to the conclusion.
[member="Khallesh "]- ...well played. Stoked to see what happens next.
[member="Karen Roberts"] - no idea how many drafts I've dropped after it became clear that it was a novel's worth of story with a short story limit. Props for knowing when to bail and move on.
[member="Dagora-Kel"] - talk more words.

 

[Lief]

[Previous] | [Next]

He blinked in the flickering light which hummed overhead. At what point had he fallen asleep? Turning his head he found that the more pressing concern was how he hadn't awoken already... There was no lake by his side, no overhanging branches sending leaves tumbling down, just permacrete and a single inset blast door which was more a solid sheet of metal than a means of escape. Shor made to sit up, only to have the rattle of chains as they scraped across the ground seize him in place.

Something shifted in the corner of his eye, yet as he turned his head whatever it was slunk back into the shadows. "Coward" he quipped, with an exaggerated grunt to accompany a sudden bid for freedom. The chains held, leaving naught save shredded skin for his efforts. Well that and the seizing of his right shoulder which for a moment had the young man knelt as stiff as a board, eyes closed and jaw set. As the pain lifted Shor remained rigid, peering through half opened eyes. He was rewarded with the view of a stout little man mere inches from his face, who startled the unsuspecting captive back a few feet.

"You will, of course, forgive my associate." The expression did not suit the quivering rodent, yet all the same it took the bemused Shor a moment to realize that it had been spoken by another. Drab and derelict, the room seemed to come to life when he turned his head to gaze upon the radiant figure who stood with his back to both captive and captor. "You see, he gets ever so eccentric in the presence of an animal. He still hasn't figured why they are so often referred to as wild."

While he had been named far worse, Shor knew that this was intended as much more than a mere slight. As the figure turned he stared down his nose and sniffed, before pacing several slow steps forward. His fingers stretched outward, yet fell short at the last moment as though touch alone would cause contamination. Around him the walls seemed to close in, stark white though they were they seemed far from sterile and for a moment Shor could swear they shivered under a tremor. No man or beast could cause him fright, yet the thought of the ceiling crashing down gave him pause.

The moment passed, however, and in its place the man turned and stalked from his view. "You will give me what I want" came the penultimate ramblings of a half-crazed old man, "In the meantime, enjoy the view won't you?" With a creak of metal both man and mouse disappeared into the unknown, leaving their half-starved captive staring at a blank wall. So perfect and flawless was its finish that he was unable to even amuse himself with pictures in the cracks, though after a while he felt certain that they were there all the same.

1832/2000

 

[Lief]

[Previous] | [Fin]

The fever had set in after three grueling days, accompanying the stench of infection. On the fourth day two men had entered; one held a blaster in his direction, the other cut away at his shirt and began to clean around the incision. Neither of them said a word, and delirious Shor could not find the right ones to say. Instead a series of garbled phonics demanded their attention, to which they gave not an inch. Tests were taken, notes were made, and then they simply left him to his thoughts.

By some measure of inadequacy for their job, one pressing factor was overlooked within the medical report, and within a few short hours the man who had been a perfectly healthy candidate was rushed from his oubliette into what seemed to be a fully fitted medical facility. His blood pressure had risen drastically, until he eventually keeled over and clutched at his chest. With sporadic, almost non-existent breaths Shor did all he could to hold on while facing the real possibility of death. As a man who had gone up against foul Force Users and come out on top, the prospect of such an ordinary ending terrified him.

Humbled beyond expression, when he made it out the other side of the tunnel Shor did not know whether to feel relief or disdain. His close call left him shaken and his body weak; they had even returned him back to his pale prison, which only added further salt to an already aggravated wound. "It seems as though we were wrong about you." The first words to grace his hearing in days were laced with vehemence. "You're not as strong as you let on, in fact you're downright weak." Pacing into his view was the self same man who had demanded from Shor the unknown. "You still have one of them, I've seen children respond to the extraction with more vigor."

Kneeling down before the shackled man, he reached out and grasped a fist full of hair, pulling back until the broken boy had no choice but to meet his gaze. Devoid, at this stage, of even malice, Shor stared back. "Now, I shall ask you again, for I am quite tired of this quizzical game of cat and mouse. Where is it?" Laughter arose, a mixture of cruelty and pain laced within the humor. "Gone" Shor rasped, cracked lips barely moving in their articulation. "I burned them. All of them." With a distinct thwack his head was knocked aside, yet still the scorned man smiled.

"You'll never find even a spec of ash" he continued, through the throbbing pain at his temples. "You should be grateful I got to him before the disease wiped them all out." The anticipated reprisal did not come. Instead the man collected himself, stood and proceeded to leave. As he did so he uttered just one solitary word. When the next person entered the shackles which had become embedded in his skin were carelessly removed, and no clunk of the heavy blast door accompanied their exit.

Suspicious, yet vying for his freedom, Shor rose with the support of the crisp wall, which became marred with the blood from his hand. He turned to find that there had only ever been the one door, which had always been within his view. To his surprise there was no wall at all separating him from the wilds, and upon further investigation he found the oppressive walls and ceiling to be flimsy and prefrabricated. Even the chains were only held down by a simple bolt that even a man half as determined as he could have uprooted.

The greatest insult of all was the lake which lingered just beyond the wall, silent in the still air of night. Clinging onto the only hope he had of truth, Shor relayed in his mind the final word he'd heard that evening and hoped it was not too late to change the wheels of fate. After all it was not death he would seek on Ossus, but one very distinct lifeform.

2511/2000

 

[Daedel]

The ring of steel against steel split the morning like tolling bells. Sweat stung her brown eyes as she rolled across the hard packed dirt of the fighting ring. With a grunt she yanked a hair needle from her shoulder and tossed it to the ground. The other girl, Jikari, had chosen to allow free weapon choice and as blood beaded on her skin she knew the hair pin was likely poisonous.

Daedel spun her spear as she stood and caught the second of the three hair pins Jikari was allowed on the haft. Within a few moments she could tell the poison would take effect and as adrenaline and blood pumped through her it would deliver the paralytic drug to her muscles, then it would be over. She feinted to the left but the other woman did not take the bait and spun her steel tipped fan at Daedel's throat. It was a killing strike and strictly speaking not allowed at this stage but accidents happened, or so they often were called. She committed to the strike rather then pull back as she had intended. The increased forward motion brought her inside the arc of Jikari's strike and Daedel was hit with her opponent's wrist. This was her last chance. Her forehand lowered and brought up the rear of her spear while dipping the bladed spear tip behind Jikari's legs. With a quick twist of her torso and a sweep of her back foot she pulled the spear blade across her opponent's legs and dropped her to her knees.

Jikari cried out as she fell forward and caught herself on outstretched hands. Daedel, however, was no longer feeling her limbs as she had a moment before. She lifted her spear by the haft with both hands as she felt her legs turn to gelatin beneath her. With all she had left she brought the long handled weapon down across the other woman's back and sent her onto her face in a cloud of dust. She had but a moment to see the judges motion to her side before she too collapsed. It was a win by technicality and she knew it. In a real battle she would be as dead as the other girl would be and a dead woman was no use to anyone.

...later that day...

She stood in front of the elders with her left eye swollen shut, four broken ribs and half a dagger still broken off in her right thigh. She had made it through her final match of the day but only barely she had been forced to fight while still lacking feeling in her hands. It was tricky to fight while unable to feel her weapon although she could see it there.

"You have earned a place in the final days matches initiate. You have brought honor to you instructors but you have not used a spell once in your matches and you have shown you only succeed by a hands breadth." the clan mother spoke, "you will receive no healing spells this night. If you tend your wounds by natural means and walk into this circle tomorrow unaided you may fight for your place. If you can not you will continue your training and will be free to try again next year....dismissed."

"Yes, mother." Daedel croaked before bowing and shambling from the arena.

She moved through her peers with her natural determination and made her way to her tent. There she found Talika and Jikari sitting by her pallet.

"What do you need sisters?" Daedel asked through dried split lips.

"You beat us and never acted as our superior though it was your right." Talika responded.

"We are here to show you our gratitude for your honorable behavior." Jikari added.

Daedel nodded and stumbled forward as her blood filled boot slipped on a stray skin. The two women caught the girl and tended her wounds. If she survived the night she would fight one more time and this time only one woman would leave the gauntlet.

700 + 1171 = 1871

 

[Daedel]

Caff brown eyes fluttered as the sun's first rays began to warm her pale cheeks through her tent flaps. Her ribs were bandaged but still broken. Her leg wound was packed with fibrous leaves and wrapped with cloth but still ready to bleed again. Her left eye could now open and was surrounded by a layer of herbal balm, however, her iris was surrounded by broken blood vessels and blurry. She was in no condition to fight to the death, but it was her duty and right to try, if she could walk to the ring.

With a groan she pushed her blankets from her slender frame. Her clothing hung from a line above the entrance and had been mended while she slept. Her spear was broken after her last fight and her other weapons were likewise in various states of disrepair, a first year mistake.

She forced herself to dress unaided and grabbed her last weapon, a maalraas bone dagger. She slowly put on her boots and began to make her way out of the small tent. She stepped out and was met with fresh air and sun. The sun was warm and welcome but the fresh cool air made her want to take a deep full breath, the coughing fit the ensued caused her ribs to scream murder for her folly. As she straightened she found a shield with a she-rancor painted on it's surface and her name on the back. Another gift of mercy.

She forced herself to lift it and stood. It was now time to take the walk. Step by step she moved, as her clan sisters began to form a line along the road. One by one they began to bow their heads to her as she passed. Her pride swelled at such an honor and the recognition she had earned by her determination. Her legs felt weak and she could feel blood from her wound begin to slowly run down her leg and she feared to take a breath.

She stumbled, a breath too deep, a step too wide, and she lay upon her shield in the dirt. A gasp came from the crowd but none moved to help her. She was on her own. Slowly she strained against her own body and the ground as she strove to stand. She found her knees, and then her feet but pain filled her lungs.

She made another step, then another, and finally she stepped through the gate to the arena. Her body hurt and she slowly stepped into the ring and stood before the elders. She had gained the right to compete in the final day but she knew death waited at her heels. Her opponent stood unharmed and ready. It seemed...off.

She lifted her head as her opponent turned and bowed her head then turned and left the ring.

"The sky people are going to war. This gauntlet is postponed until next year. Now walk home."

The End​

 

[Khallesh]

Khallesh looked resplendent in her Vonduun Skerr Kyrric. It had been hand painted by her subordinates in bright red markings that indicated her rank, prowess, and achievements. Something only done for formal occasions. So she could not quite understand why the "secretary" kept casting her side long glances and failing to suppress her smirks.

"Mr Jamaane will see you now," the other Yuuzhan Vong called from behind her desk.

Khallesh moved to her feet smoothly, testing her weight on the new leg. It took time to adjust to a new escalation, but she was beginning to trust the new limb. The sole of her foot still inched though. She stepped across the smooth stone tiles, testing her whole weight on her left. This towering building was all too alien to her. All metal beams and glass. Always so bright.

She looked across the desk at the slender female, her fingers clenched tight into a fist. She had promised not to start any fights when the Master Shaper had sent her on her way. Khallesh cocked her head and looked her up and down. She was wearing what she assumed was a black robe skin. It was tightly fitted, and showed off a great deal of flesh. That in itself wasn't unheard of, but it showed off how smooth and unblemished her skin was. That, Khallesh found as abhorrent as the little device held in the secretary's ear. To keep infidel technology so close to one's own body... Khallesh visibly shuddered.

"He's in the corner office of the twenty seventh floor. Take a right and a left, take the lift up. Then go past the Fleming suite, and cross floorplate C," she said, with a sickly sweet, and obviously false, little smile.

Khallesh's pride forced her to carefully consider a way to voice that she had no clue what had just been said. Whilst she had a general grasp of basic - though she would admit little more than knowing enough to throw insults to her subordinates - the secretary's directions had made no sense to her. What was a "floorplate"? Perhaps a literal plate on the floor that gave directions.

"I'll call Jarthus to take you up," the Yuuzhan Vong said before Khallesh could ask further questions.

As the human youth in an ill-fitting suit led her away from the reception, her keen ears, developed by millennia of genetic selection, picked up the voice of the secretary behind them.

"You should have seen it Nei Paarth, she was actually wearing a crab!" she whispered with a giggle. "No, no I don't think it's retro!"

 

[Khallesh]

Ooc/ another pov switch, more to come tomorrow (needs another edit)

There was a loud clang as the chitinous plate extending from her elbow caught the middle of Willard Jamaane's glass door. So useful to rend flesh at close range, not so effective in an office environment. He stood up from behind his desk as the door closed softly behind her. Khallesh noted how the door cut off all sound from the busy office behind her. Yet this room afforded no privacy from the eyes of the hundred or so office workers. But of course, it gave Willard an exceptional view of his subordinates, she supposed.

Her eyes appraised the "Senior Vice President of Sales" as he extended one arm in front of him. He was in surprisingly good physical shape, she noted. He was neither skinny, nor overweight. However, his strange clothing accentuated his slender waist, rather than his broad shoulders. His face was also shamefully bereft of scars.

"A pleasure to meet you, Khallesh Val," he said in a smooth and confident voice. His eyes flicked down to the hand he held out towards her. Khallesh furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Ah, right," he said. "Lesson one: the handshake. Typical greeting. Hold my hand..."

Khallesh cast a suspicious eye at the offered hand. Physical contact outside of combat training, to the point of holding hands with a member of the opposite sex seemed a little...obscene as a first greeting. Still, she wasn't about to seem fearful of their customs, so she gingerly took the hand. He held it with a firm grip and gave it a quick shake before releasing it. She kept her hand out for an awkward second, before realising the gesture was over.

"Please have a seat... " he said, indicating the metal chair on the opposite side of his desk.

Khallesh took a seat, not wanting to outwardly display how out of place she felt. She had not paused on the beaches of Kashyyk before leading a suicidal charge. And yet crossing the "floorplate" and hearing every whisper and feeling every pair of eyes as she walked Willard's office had left her feeling breathless and nauseous. That walk had seemed endless. Keeping her head held high, she decided to proceed with quick-fire questions, to try and cover how out of place she felt.




"Is your name on the door so people do not forget?" she asked curtly.

Willard's lengthy and eloquent welcome greeting, which he had spent a great deal of time drafting, stuck in his throat. He looked at the warrior with suspicious eyes, unsure if that had been a joke or an earnest question.

Why had she had to come wearing full battle regalia? The memories that brought back were bad enough alone, before what she even started to ask the kind of question he knew were coming. Jun Paarth was an old friend. Though not that old, given a Yuuzhan Vong could live a few centuries. Of course, there had been a time when Will had snorted at the notion of a long life, instead hoping to die an honourable death in his prime. He owed a great deal to the Master Shaper, and so far all she had called on him for, was to offer one of her relatives a job here. Some incident which required the apprentice shaper to disappear at short notice apparently. So given the magnitude of the debt he owed, he couldn't possibly turn down the opportunity to wipe away some of that debt for what amounted to an extended office tour. He couldn't just go and admit to Jun quite how difficult this was going to be for him.

That vicious streak that ran deep had served him well in the world of sales and marketing. The Yuuzhan Vong always exuded an air of confidence and his phrasing was always carefully calculated. That didn't mean that confidence ran more than skin deep, he questioned himself constantly and was subject to extreme stress just like any executive in this hectic world.

Why did you turn your back on your people? Why do you make a pretence of following our traditions? Why were you not there when your home was burnt to ash? These were all questions he had answered to himself, over and over. However, his past was now sat directly opposite him, staring him in the face and he had signed up to dealing with those questions directly, and the inevitable probing follow ups. Having to go through the motions of explaining himself to a naive warrior shouldn't have tied his guts up in knots, especially after the countless hours he'd spent agonising over such questions himself.

Yet this young warrior, who was surely fifty years too young for anyone to be claiming the rank of commander, was so full of confidence. She had walked across the floorplate with her head held high, despite being so clearly out of place. An up-and-coming prodigy of Jun Paarth, she had proven herself an exceptional warrior time and again. Her world view would be simple and almost unshakable. The questions would be blunt, and yet her cultural view of what was personal would be entirely different that which Will had embraced.

Apparently the first question had been entirely serious, so a serious answer was required. "This building houses a few thousand staff," he explained. "Not everyone knows me, so sometimes they just look for my name on the door."

"Don't they just say: 'Look for the Yuuzhan Vong who has his own office?'" she asked.

"Well... people... well they tend to be more polite than that," he replied to the abrupt question.

"Why is it impolite?" Khallesh asked, her eyes turning towards the view through the floor to ceiling windows. She leant across the table, placing her weight on her elbows. He grimaced, knowing that would scratch the meticulously polished, imported wood. Still, how did you explain that a chunk of wood was worth the annual salary of a nurse to a Yuuzhan Vong warrior without sounding shallow?

"There are other Yuuzhan Vong here you know!" he replied, slightly avoiding the question. "It's an excellent view, isn't it?" he said, hoping to seize on her curiosity and go back to some of the monologues he'd prepared.

Apparently, she wouldn't be deterred that easily. "Yes, the secretary. I've been thinking on that. Showing off her legs and shoulders like that, yet with unblemished skin. It must be because she is a Shamed One?"

Willard nearly coughed up his mouthful of caff. Clearing his throat and slapping his chest, he started to laugh. "Erm, no. Whilst Vuun has managed to shame herself quite easily enough at the last two office lifeday parties, we don't adhere to a strict caste system any more," Willard replied, all the while having to speak through a broad grin. He hadn't come this far by giving in to any insecurities he held. His presentation to the board on how to market their neural implants to children as a junior sales executive had terrified him, but he had smashed it. He wasn't here to explain himself, there was no need to get into an argument on his thoughts on genocide. His remit was merely to give an apparently naive warrior a crash course in how the rest of the galaxy worked.

Before she could ask her next question, he headed her off: "You could, in a way, consider this company to be a domain. We constantly vie for power with our competitors, without outright hostility. In the same way as you still sometimes get domains dedicated to a particular function, we only compete with other companies in the same sector.

"Within the company we have a relatively strict hierarchy, from within each department, through many, many abstract layers of management, all the way up the the board of directors and their chosen CEO," Will continued, decided to skip over his explanation of shareholders for now. "Within the company we have departments, you could consider them analogous to castes. Their members each fulfill a particular vital role. I'm in sales and marketing, that's fairly self explanatory, there's research and development, security and SR or sentient resources... "

Khallesh interjected a question before he could continue. "What do they do?"

"Honestly, no one really knows. I mean it - literally no one. But I digress," he said, subtly trying to avoid any further questions for now by pretending that he had erred by veering off topic, rather than been rudely interrupted. "The main difference is that no one is born into a particular role. People can apply for different jobs, though after a few years they tend to be promoted with a type of work. People will often move to a different company if they can't reach a higher position. Sometimes a company will fall apart and the best staff will quickly get snapped up by the company's competitors, if the whole company isn't bought out altogether." Finishing his little explanation, Will sat back in his chair and placed his hands on his lap. The commander was silent this time, her expression revealing she was in deep thought. He stayed silent a moment, leaving an obvious gap for questions. He felt quite pleased with himself for this little victory.


3926 words total so far

 

[Khallesh]

4279


[SIZE=14.6667px]Khallesh squinted as the human pointed to a graph on the glittering panel. The harsh blue tinted light seemed so artifical. Whilst she wouldn't actually touch their machines, she thought she was being remarkably tolerant by allowing the human to use it in her presence. He was explaining something about how they "provided financial incentives in a fair, open and transparent" manner. Perhaps she should have brought a tizoworm to better understand their extensive terminology, however she had thought it more respectful to attempt to converse in their language as much as possible. After all, if an ambassador came to a Yuuzhan Vong world and spoke using one of their mechanical devices, it would have caused great offense. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Overall, she thought she was behaving particularly well. Of course, she had promised Jun Paarth not to kill anyone, and she'd barely even started an argument, let alone raise her hand to anyone for their disrespectful attitude. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"May I ask you something?" Khallesh interrupted suddenly. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"Erm, yes," the human replied, looking slightly dazed at having been abruptly stopped mid sentence. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“What’s Will like to work for?” Khallesh asked.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Oh, its[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px] Mr Jamaane[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px] to us, he’s quite clear about that,” he whispered back. “He’s good. Well organised, gets good results and takes responsibility when we have a bad quarter. Not everyone does well under him though. He’s probably the most strict and disciplined manager I’ve worked under. He’s broken a lot of new starters.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Khallesh gave the man an incredulous look, before casting her eyes around the office. A male/female couple were standing next to a water cooler, clearly flirting. Several groups had assembled around desks, laughing together. Was this what discipline looked like to them?[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]The office worked seemed to notice this cue: “Oh, he’s alright about the environment being a [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]little [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]relaxed, but you should see him if someone breaks protocol or misses their targets!”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Thank you,” Khallesh replied, turning on her heel and heading for the glass corner office. The man looked a touch disappointed, as if she had walked away before he could get to his most interesting slides. [/SIZE]

 

[Khallesh]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"I find myself unable to understand how this place... works," Khallesh stated as she stepped into the corner office, without even announcing herself. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Willard Jamaane blew through his cheeks for a moment before looking up from his data pad, allowing his frustration to show through his facade of control briefly. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"Alright then," replied in a friendly tone. "What confuses you?" [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"They say you're the most strict 'boss' they've had," she remarked. "Look at them frolicking! This isn't discipline! What motivates them? Are the accolades of being a successful salesman so great that push themselves?" [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"Unsurprising in some ways that the most fundamental way in which this culture works, is the part you'll struggle to grasp. There is a limit to how hard I can push my staff before they break, or find new employment. Recall that they are free to move between organisations," Willard said. Khallesh pulled a face that showed her disgust at this lack of loyalty and honour. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"The fundamental motivation is financial reward. I don't mind if they chat during the day as long as they hit my targets. They understand that failure will not be tolerated here and success will be rewarded. They bear their targets, they get more credits in their bonus, and increase their regular salary," Willard finished explaining. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Khallesh frowned. Money was still a relatively nebulous concept to her. She understood from her discussions with the Master Shaper how they allowed a free market to dictate the price of goods, using their “credits” to react to market changes. The Yuuzhan Vong still worked to what was apparently called a “Command Economy” by the natives of the Galaxy. They produced what was needed and gave organisations what they required. Apparently this limited their flexibility. Personal wealth as a motivation factor was not something she had considered at any length. She resisted the urge to rub her temples and walk off. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“What do people do with these credits?” she asked.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Buy things!” Will replied.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“But what?” Khallesh asked.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Nice things generally. Everyone wants to have more than their peers. A bigger house, a nicer speeder. Good food. A nice desk.” he replied, just a hint of his annoyance etched across his face. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Khallesh eyed the scratches on its surface, but ignored the cue to apologise. “I see,” she responded slowly. “What would happen if people stopped buying stupid things?”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“The economy would collapse!” Willard replied with a broad grin. “You must be nearly done for the day, you are returning tomorrow?” Willard said, broaching a new subject.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Yes,” Khallesh replied curtly. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Perhaps it would not be necessary to wear your full Vonduun Skerr Kyrric?” Willard ventured. Khallesh gave him a stern look. “A simple robeskin would suffice and maybe you would feel less out of place?”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“As a warrior it would be improper of me to appear before outsiders at a formal occasion in anything but…” she started to say.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“No, I understand!” Willard said, holding up his hands. “I merely thought that…”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“If you insist of course!” Khallesh cut him off before he could go back on his words. “I shall come more appropriately attired tomorrow.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Willard held her gaze for a moment, a curious expression on his face. Khallesh held that gaze, silently hoping he wouldn’t contradict her. She had perhaps spoken a little too quickly, and given away how eager she was to attract less attention the next day. His mouth moved briefly as if considering calling her bluff.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]She broke first. “I will see you in the morning,” she said curtly. She turned on her heel and strode out of the office. Behind her, Willard allowed himself a smile at his little victory and returned to his spreadsheets. He was enjoying this far more than he had expected. [/SIZE]


4931 Words

 

[Khallesh]

5353


[SIZE=14.6667px]The following morning the Yuuzhan Vong secretary didn’t smirk when Khallesh stood over her. She simply nodded and sent a quick message up to another employee to escort Khallesh up to the twenty seventh floor.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Khallesh was [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]not[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px] attractive by human standards. Her features were in no way dainty and her shoulders far too broad. Neither did she find the soft, fleshy pink humans, with their ridiculously long snouts attractive. But she liked to hope she came across as desirable as a Yuuzhan Vong warrior. Her robeskin had been shaped to sit off the shoulder to highlight her athletic form and the tattoos that documented her prowess. She had tied her hair back in three complicated braids, which she allowed to hang down the back of her neck. A warrior wore simple jewellery compared to other sects, but that which she wore was formed of coral and metal which matched her skin tone.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Rather than looking amused, today the secretary looked threatened. It was a small and rather shallow victory, when Khallesh would much rather have broken the girl’s neck for her disrespectful attitude. It also highlighted just how derogatory the infidels could be, and how those attitudes could extend to one of her own people if allowed to go “native”.[/SIZE]



[SIZE=14.6667px]The morning went relatively smoothly. There were less comments behind her back, and several females at the office even took the time to question her on the nature of her facial jewellery and tattoos. They were naïve questions, and it was quite offensive that they found her jewellery interesting but not her Vonduun Skerr Kyrric. However, she had to admit to herself that this was preferable to the previous day. Some of them even seemed genuinely interested when she explained the significance of a Tattoo that represented the Twin Gods. There was a general murmur of appreciation when she showed the scar where a Wookie’s Ryyk blade had been inches from cutting her in two.[/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.6667px]Out of the corner of her eye she saw Willard standing over one of his staff. He did not look happy. The member of staff looked less happy. There was a brief exchange and Willard headed back for his office. He paused as he passed the group, raising one finger as if he had just recalled something.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Khallesh Val, meet me down at reception around one? I thought we could grab some lunch at Coriander Court,” he said casually. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Fine,” she replied curtly. One of them men explaining his role in the corporation raised an eyebrow. [/SIZE]

 

[Khallesh]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Have you seen Willard?” Khallesh asked the secretary as she waited for the Yuuzhan Vong executive. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“No, are you expecting to meet him here?” she replied, in that sweet tone that Khallesh suspected was supposed to be insulting. How did this culture survive, she thought, when it was considered immoral to kill someone for an insult? The secretary was a Yuuzhan Vong, perhaps it would not be considered against the law?[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Yes,” Khallesh replied curtly. “Apparently we are finding sustenance at something called the ‘Coriander Courtyard’” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Vuun’s expression shifted suddenly, her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Right,” she replied curtly, all traces of the sweet tone gone. “I’ll call him down.”[/SIZE]



[SIZE=14.6667px]“You know the normal waiting time for this place is around eighteen months!” Willard explained. “They have two numbers to call. One is advertised and has a remarkable waiting time. One is for a select few. I rang up just a few hours ago to book a lunch,” he said. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“I see,” Khallesh replied. She noticed him looking a little crestfallen at her response. Perhaps that was supposed to be impressive? She thought back to her conversation with Jun Paarth on the matter of humans spending a great deal of their money on food and drink. Yuuzhan Vong simply ate for replenishing energy and nutrients. “Is this place expensive?” she asked. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Again, his reaction confused her. He looked taken aback, as if the simple question had been rude. So many social faux pas in this society. Jokes, veiled insults, social rules. Actually, when she thought on it for a moment, that was no different to her own society. In fact the wrong words to a warrior could bring about a swift death. The wrong words to a priest could bring about a very slow one. Perhaps the only difference was that she knew the rules? Was that thought heretical on its own? She found herself chewing on her lower lip as she considered this. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Yes, actually exceptionally so,” Willard Jamaane replied. “Though normally such an abrupt question on the cost of something being offered would be considered slightly rude.” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“I apologise and thank you,” Khallesh replied. That reply seemed to satisfy him at least. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“It was no bother, and the concept of money is still very new to you,” he replied with a smile. He seemed to be pleased that she had thanked him. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]She turned her eyes to the windows next to where they walked. Bright lights illuminated displays of products behind glass windows, likely to try and entice people to ‘purchase’ them. They seemed such frivolous things. She found the plastic mannikins ghastly. As if they were draping their clothes over an arrangement of corpse to exhibit them. Her understanding of their writings was poor, but it seemed as if they were passing a series of clothing shops that sold particularly expensive garments. She noticed a small black dress, similar to the one Vuun, the secretary, wore. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“They work hard, and then spend their money on ridiculous garments so they can preen for the other sex,” she observed. “All that daily effort and not for a greater good, but for colourful clothes and….[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]gadgets.”[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px] [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Willard seemed to think on that for a moment, a mischievous smile appearing on his face. “Come [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]on [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]Khallesh, even for you that seems a little naive. Yuuzhan Vong preen. The warriors decorate themselves with jewelry, scars and tattoos. Tight robeskins that accentuate…” the words seemed to stick in his throat and he looked away from her, as if he had spotted something on the other side of the street. “Can you honestly say no Yuuzhan Vong has ever dressed to impress? People here have choice. No, we’re not a collective working for a greater good. We’re a collective of individuals who take roles dictated by the free markets, but with choices in what we do with our accolades and how we spend our time.” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Mhmm,” Khallesh replied, choosing to neither agree nor disagree. Oh...[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]oh[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]! A thought occurred to her. “You realise that Vuun dressed in that ridiculous manner to try and impress you?” she asked.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Hah! More shrewd that you let on! Of course I have. I am not certain it is [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]exclusively[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px] for myself, but she is hardly subtle in her intentions. It would be inappropriate to describe her behaviour at a Lifeday party I believe I already mentioned…”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“I’m not going to pretend how you infidels behave,” Khallesh snapped back. “Your people laugh all day and their work seems the least of their concerns.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Ah,” Will shrugged. “Keeps them same. I know a few good ones, I’ll tell you a few over lunch!” [/SIZE]



[SIZE=14.6667px]6125[/SIZE]

 

[Khallesh]

[SIZE=14.6667px]The secretary was, if anything, even less welcoming the following morning. Khallesh ignored the look she was given and took a seat. She started to rub her temples. She had expected a quick meal and discussion on their progress so far. Instead they had been at the restaurant for nearly two hours. Either native Yuuzhan Vong like Willard had developed a different constitution or ‘wine’ was something you needed to build a tolerance to. She had excused herself from returning to the office later in the day and headed back to her apartments. The headache she was experiencing this morning was distinctly unpleasant. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Nice lunch?” came a quick question from behind the reception desk. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Satisfactory,” Khallesh replied. There was silence for a few seconds. “Is he always so chatty?” she decided to ask.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]No[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px],” came the testy reply. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Khallesh felt she had learned quite a lot about other cultures during her stay so far. It was certainly as much as she felt she should learn. Already she was concerned that their infidel ways may have tainted her in some way. However, annoying this petulant little excuse for a Yuuzhan Vong almost made the trip worth it alone. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Please head to the basement level,” Vuun called. “Mr Jamaane will meet you there.” [/SIZE]



[SIZE=14.6667px]Khallesh spotted Willard across the floor of the wide open chamber. Instead of his usual smart suits, he wore clothes of a plain fabric that stopped at his upper forearms and thighs. Everyone in this room seemed to be dressed in a similar manner, with the females wearing some remarkably body-hugging fabric. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Good morning, welcome to our gym!” Willard explained. “After teaching you about humour and good food yesterday, I thought we could show you some of the benefits we have for employees. I thought this afternoon I could introduce you to a particular passion of mine: prosthetics for wounded soldiers.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“You did not teach me about humour,” Khallesh retorted. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“You laughed at my jokes!”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“I was being polite!” Khallesh snapped back. After all she was Commander of Domain Val, not an infidel who drank a bit too much forty-seven and then laughed a little too hard at an eloquent executive’s jokes. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“If you insist,” he replied with a smile. “This is where people come to stay in shape,” he said, waving one arm to include all of the wide hall. These are treadmills so people can run without going anywhere…”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Why wouldn’t you run somewhere?”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Quite! Those are the free weights. You use a Nosh’tra to provide resistence training,” he explained, referring to a biot with elastic appendages that was frequently used by the Warrior caste to build strength. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Khallesh watched a stout Gran lifting a long metal bar with disks on each end. He had a strange belt of leather around his midriff. After he walked off towards a water cooler, she approached the metal bar. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Oh, that’s around two hundred and fifty kilos! You might want to warm up a…”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Khallesh grasped the bar firmly and heaved it up off the floor in one smooth motion. She dropped it back down to the ground with a loud crash, and shrugged.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Haha, right...well...perhaps some of us haven’t been working out as much as we should have..” Willard said looking a touch embarrassed. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“What’s that?” Khallesh asked, pointing towards an elevated platform surrounded by ropes. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“The ring. That’s for sparring.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Do you know how to fight?” Khallesh asked. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Of course,” Willard replied. “Most of us still practise some of the old ways you know,” he started to explain. Khallesh narrowed her eyes at the use of the term ‘old’. “I still sparr regularly. You’ll find each of us holds on to our roots in some ways. Vuun even sees a priestess of Yun-Ne'Shel once a month for a cleansing.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Khallesh considered this for a few seconds and Will seemed content to let her think this through. She was in two minds about whether she was comfortable with this or not. Was this a half-hearted throwback out of guilt and an insult to her religion?[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“I think I like that you still hold on to some of our ways,” Khallesh said slowly, nodding her head. “Does Vuun still fight?” she said. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Willard held up his hands, seeing the look in her eyes. “Oh no! She does, but not with you! We’ve gone several days and you haven’t killed any of my staff, that’s just not happening,” he said. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Bah!” Khallesh replied, but she was smiling. “Just you then!” she said. Before he could respond she had started walking through the gym towards the ring. [/SIZE]




[SIZE=14.6667px]He moved quickly inside the range of her strike. He grasped the outside of her palm and started to twist the arm, attempting to initiate another grapple. Khallesh, however, was not fighting to his tempo. Her left leg shifted backwards, drawing him forwards. She reversed her momentum with a speed he could not react to. Her left elbow came around and collided with his temple hard. Will slammed into the canvas face first and groggily held up one hand for a pause. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]He stayed down for a few seconds, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his breath. Slowly he pushed himself back up to his feet, leaving behind a dark stain. Blood was dripping from a wide split in his lip and a gash above his eye, but he was smiling. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Not often I get to spar with someone who actually knows what they’re doing!” he admitted. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Your grappling technique is good,” Khallesh conceded. “But your footwork is sloppy!”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Out of practise,” he said. “I don’t get enough hours down here any more. I enjoy tennis and can get some business done whilst playing with some of the other execs, but it isn’t the same.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“But you were trained at some point, weren’t you?” Khallesh asked. “Your technique is that of a Warrior.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]His expression changed in an instant; the smile turning to a pained frown. “Yes,” he admitted, almost a whisper.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Hah! Thought as much!” Khallesh replied, oblivious to his change in demeanor. “Why not just admit as much when we first met?”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Because I am not proud of my past,” Willard replied tersely. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Khallesh took an involuntary step back. He was not proud of his past? A warrior of the Yuuzhan Vong and he was [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]ashamed [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]of that? If that was the case, how did he view her exactly? There was no way he could respect her if he was ashamed of what she represented. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]She should have been angry. She should have balled up her fists and laid him out across the canvas for the insult - properly this time. Instead her insides churned and she felt a confusing mix of emotions. Sadness and embarrassment mixed in with the anger, but instead of tempering it, it left her speechless and confused. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Goodbye Willard Jamaane,” was all she managed to say, before turning on her heel and striding away. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Hang on I didn’t mean it quite like…” he started, but she wasn’t listening. She carried on walking, knuckles still smeared with blood, all the way back to her apartment. She refastened her Vonduun Skerr Kyrric, and contacted Jun Paarth to arrange for transport back to New Yuuzhan’tar. [/SIZE]

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