It was the season of the Corellian harvest. Celeste loved that specific time of year. The market district of Coronet city would come alive with travelers and tradesmen, off-worlders filled with stories of the far away systems she longed to visit.

Her brother Corvo would either be plucking away at the strings of his Hallikset, this time of year, in the streets or taking advantage of the visitors from far away lands. Many of them were unaware of just how quickly the web of deceit on Corellia could ensnare them with crippling debts. He did what he had to, whatever it took to protect her, to provide for her. Their father, Detrik was an Imperial trooper that preferred the company of Whyren's Reserve over time spent with his own children. Their mother, Sula, was long gone, she had passed away while giving birth to Celeste and Detrik resented her for it. It was obvious from the abuse and neglect that he provided while consumed by liquid rage.

While it enraged her brother, Celeste was innocent and pure. She never let anything sour her mood and she always looked forward to the future, to the possibilities that were hidden within it. Corvo admired that about her but was never able to get onboard with her optimism. He was her father figure, her friend, and her protector. 

========

"Celeste!" Detrik shouted as he stumbled through the door to their third story apartment. "Celeste!" he shouted again, "where is that girl?" he growled.

Celeste knew that when her father called, it was never for a good reason. Most of the time, hiding was in her best interest. 

Furniture snapped and glass shattered as Detrik stumbled and angrily smashed through the apartment. Liquor sloshed out of the bottle in his right hand and between shouts he would stop to gulp the amber liquid. 

Celeste froze, but in doing so, her foot slid forward and knocked a plant from the table she was hiding under. The crash caused Detrik to pause and turn with a fiendish gleam. "Celeste?" his query was filled with fake compassion, "come on out, you don't have to be AFRAID!!" reaching down he grabbed her by the hair and tugged her out from beneath the table. "You WILL come to me when I call for you, girl!" he raised his hand as if to strike her but he was interrupted as the door to the apartment slid open. 

"Corvo!" shouted Celeste with hope. 

Bubbling up from the pit of his belly, Corvo's anger rose to the surface as he walked in to witness what he was trying to escape. 

"Let her go!" Corvo roared.

"Or what, you gonna stop me?" Detrik laughed. "You don't have the stones. I was Imperial Military, boy. You're nothing compared to me!" his laugh grew louder and caused Corvo's anger to erupt as he charged. "Fool!" Detrik shouted as he threw Celeste down and caught Corvo with a stiff backhand that caused the boy to stumble back into a shelf. "I've given you ungrateful brats everything, EVERYTHING!" his boot crashed into Corvo's ribs and he took another slug from the bottle. 

Corvo gasped for air and clenched his fists, a tingling pierced the back of his neck in that moment, it was like a thousand needles. 

"Stop!" Corvo shouted but it was useless as his father kicked him again. 

"You're pathetic, just like your sister!" Detrik roared back as he chambered his leg for another kick. 

It wouldn't connect. A primal growl tore through Corvo's vocal cords and a look of surprise contorted Detrik's face. It was a look that Corvo would never forget. The growl would then manifest and the very apartment began to tremble and shake. Detrik stumbled back and as he did, Corvo pushed himself up and stepped forward. Like an invisible explosion everything inside of the room imploded. A scream of terror and a sharp squeal escaped Detrik's alcohol soaked maw as he was blasted through the large glass window. 

Panic washed over the boy's features and he dropped to his knees feeling a sudden drain. His eyes scanned the wreckage and his heart sank when he saw the bloodied arm of his sister lifelessly laying on the floor, her body covered with remnants of furniture. His instincts told him all that he needed to know as he screamed and began to sob uncontrollably. What had he done? It was the only question he could ask himself as he became overwhelmed with confusion. His pale blue eyes never left his sister as he waited for her to move, waited for any signs of life. 

Falling to his face, he crawled over to her and as his shock subsided, he frantically ripped the pieces of furniture from his sister's lifeless body. He screamed once more as reality sunk in. Scooping her up, he pulled her close to his body and rested his head against hers.

"Celeste, what have I done?" 

The birds stopped their singing as day turned into night. He held her for what seemed to be a lifetime and as he expected the Corellian Security Force to arrive at any moment, the door to the apartment slid open. Startled, Corvo's eyes flicked over to the door and standing in the doorway was a large man, seemingly cloaked in shadow. Corvo froze as he saw the being's mechanical arms, the right hand clasping the left wrist. 

Before Corvo could speak, he was immediately stopped by the stranger's eerily calm voice.

"The name's Bentre, and I think you need to come with me."

Ralltiir
Near the High Ontis mountains
14 ABY

The small farming community was situated at the base of the central continental mountain range and the start of a large marshy area that extended to the ocean. Small farms dotted the area, growing a rice-like grain that helped to feed the local area. Small herds of Nerfs and Batuuans slogged through the marshy fields, occasionally fertilizing the land.

"It's got to be stopped!" yelled one person.

"He killed six of my Batuuans, left them in pieces!” another woman exclaimed.

“Two children and their mother were slaughtered by this monster.” the town constable softly said. The group of people became very quiet at this.

Benn looked at his mother and cocked an eyebrow in query. She pursed her lips and then nodded.

“I’ll hunt it, the killer,” he said stepping forward. “I will need some help tracking this thing, but I’ll get rid of it for you.”

Everyone turned to look at the young man, some having to look up at him. Broad across the shoulders, exuding a calm strength, Benn put his hands on his hips and looked around.

“But, you are just a boy!” one older man laughed, getting some of his cronies to chuckle along with him.

“Yes, and I am also the one willing to go take care of this problem, unlike you.” Benn replied, looking the man in the eye. “This has been going on for how long now? Two, three weeks? And yet here you all stand doing nothing but complain! And this after the death of two children!” Benn looked around at the people, seeing fear and shame in their eyes.

The constable stepped forward. “Constable Joba Rethlorkin, I’ll help, I think I have an idea where the bastard has been hiding out,” he said, holding out his hand to Benn.

Benn nodded and shook the other man's hand. Adjusting his blaster he looked around. “Anyone else?” He asked, pointedly looking at the smartalec man from earlier. The man wouldn’t meet his eyes.

A local farmer named Quin, and a friend of Benns stepped forward. “Yeah Benn, sign me up. I’ll get my rifle and be ready to help you in a few minutes.”

Benn walked over and kissed his mother on the cheek and smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure I stay safe,” he said as he left.

Quin ran off to grab his rifle from his hover truck, then came back grinning. The trio headed off, Benn and the Constable in quiet conversation.

"Luck!" one of the townspeople yelled out.

Looking back the three smiled and waved.

The "hunt" turned out to be rather uneventful. Once the three were out of the town, and heading towards the forests at the base of the mountains, spoor from the monster they hunted started appearing everywhere. Dead animals, partially eaten, food containers and wrappers, tracks all over.

The constable pointed towards a rocky overhang about 95 meters from where they stood. "I have a feeling we'll find what we are looking for in there. The tracks all seem to head in that direction."

Benn unholstered his blaster and charged it. Quin chambered a round in his rifle, as Constable Rethlorkin pulled out a slug thrower and racked the slide back.

"I'll head over that way," Quin said, pointing off to the left. "I have a hunting stand over there, maybe I can spot something up there.

Benn and Joba nodded. "Should we take the cave straight on or?" he asked the constable.

"I can lead, just be careful with that blaster," the older man joked.

Nodding, he made sure the blaster's safety was switched on as they headed towards the caves.

Benn looked at the other man, eyebrows raised once they got close. "What the hell makes such a mess? This makes my bedroom look clean."

"I don't know, but whatever it is, it seems to kill just for the joy of killing, and it will eat anything apparently," Joba said, kicking a half eaten container of spoiled food aside.

Except for the bones and half eaten bodies of various animals.. The search in the caves was fruitless, so the two headed out.

Breathing in somewhat fresher air, Benn hoped the putrid smell of rotted meat, spoiled food and death wouldn't stay in his clothing.

"I want to try something," Benn offered. "I don't know how it works, but I can sometimes feel or sense things around me. I just have to concentrate on it."

The constable nodded and stepped back from the young man. "At this point? I'm open to anything."

Sitting down on a nearby rock and closing his eyes, he managed to slowly clear his mind of all the chaos around him. Slowing his breathing, he began to reach out to the world around him. The feelings, smells, sounds, everything, became muted. Soon he was lost in a swirl of shifting patterns. He "felt" Joba, standing by him, then as he expanded outward he "felt" Quin up in his tree stand. He felt the earth, the trees around him, everything seemed to be connected. Then he felt rage, anger, and pain. It wasn’t far away, and it was coming closer.

Coming out of his trance, Benn started to look around at the surrounding forest. Slowly, as if called, the killer appeared, It was huge, brutish, feral. Its eyes were a bright orange with black slits for pupils.

“There!” he yelled as the monster charged him. Without really knowing how he did it, he lept backwards from the attack, just avoiding the outstretched claws.

Joba swung around and began firing at the figure, the bullets impacted, blood and gore spurting and flying. The brute just kept on moving, howling as each bullet struck.

Benn aimed and began firing. The electric crackling sound of the bolts mixing with the sharp crack of the rifle filled the clearing. The smell of singed hair, burning flesh, spattering blood assaulting the senses.

Suddenly it was over. The thing lay splayed out, not moving. Blood leaking from numerous bullet holes, hair smoking and singed around blaster marks.

"I don’t think he will be a problem any longer,” the constable said, panting from exertion.

Benn glanced at him, then looked back at his target. The blaster shot was one in a million. It had caught the hulking brute right in the middle of the spine, paralyzing, but not killing it.

"Hey! You got 'im," Quin yelled out, a smile on his face as he approached the scene.

Grinning, Benn nodded and pulled out his knife. Reaching out to pull the brute's head back, he slit the killer's throat. Blood sprayed everywhere, causing the two others to jump back.

Saying a prayer of forgiveness to himself, he reversed the knife and drove it between the ribs and into the heart. The murdering beast shuddered once and died.

'"Urg, er, that is nasty," said the constable wiping blood from his boots. "You killed it, you deal with the mess."

The young man nodded and got out some synthecord from a belt pouch and bound the feet of the corpse.

Spooling it out, he looked around for a suitable tree branch to throw the cord over. Finding one he tossed the thin synthecord over it.

"Hey, help me lift him. The sooner we are done the sooner we can get home and eat". Benn said, grunting as he pulled on the rope.

The men grabbed the slack end of the rope, and between the three of them they hoisted the corpse off the ground.

It swayed in the breeze, blood slowly dripping from the gaping cut in its throat.

“Soooo….what now?” the old farmer asked, looking at the beast that hung before him.

“Well, um, I don’t know,” Benn said as he examined the beast. “The History museum would probably pay a good amount of credits for the body, but this one is full of holes now.” He bent down and examined the teeth and then the paws. “Hey! See here? It’s paw is infected, It can’t use it to make it’s kills. That's why it was killing easy prey.”

The other two men looked at the swollen front paw and saw that the area around one of the claws was red and inflamed.

“Well I’ll be damned. You’re right," Joba said. “Are you going to keep the head as a trophy?”

Benn shook his head and stepped back. “No, it was a noble beast that fell due to sickness. Killing it was a kindness. I think we should burn the body, or at least bury it."

Joba sized up the young man beside him. “You know people are going to want to take revenge on this thing for what it did.”

Benn started laughing. “What, are they going to beat the corpse with a stick? Will that bring back the woman and her children? It was doing what its species does, nothing more nothing less. No, we burn the corpse and call it a day well done.”

That night, as he looked up at the stars from his back porch, he thought about the beast he had slain. Was he in the right? Did he have the right to take a life, even of an animal? What if it had been a human? He believed that what he had done was for the best. He protected others. He was taught that by his mother since he was a small boy. Help others, protect others. Sometimes it will be difficult, in the end you will know. In your heart you will know.

Benn put his hands behind his head and smiled.

Note: the selected snapshot of current Qyreia does not accurately reflect her pre-DJB (re: 31 ABY story setting against the current 39 ABY) skills or appearance, and is merely present as a point of reference, and to fulfil the requirement for a snapshot.

Also, sorry for the long story.

Enjoying The Festivities

An Unpleasant Settlement
Tatooine
The Outer Rim

CaptainCerys Dagen sipped her cold drink and listened to the noise around her. After several days cooped up on the Lancer Patrol Craft she served as pilot of it was good to feel the fresh air on her face, even if it came with a dose of sand. The Miraluka watched the glowing figures of citizens and visitors passing her through her force sight. She could hear her companion making disapproving noises from nearby over the sounds of conversation and engines nearby.
“He is late,” Malisane commented beneath his hood.
“Yes so it seems Warlord,” she replied, not having much else to say.
“I will be pleased when we can return to Aeotheran,” he said coldly, “for a planet that apparently features so prominently in Galactic history, it is a cess pit. I thought Tarthos was unpleasant until I came here.”
Cerys shrugged. “I did suggest an alternate site but our contact refused.” She was about to add more when she felt a vibration at her side and reached down, taking her datapad from her belt. Her figures touched the screen and she concentrated as she read the message. She sighed. “I am afraid I have bad news sir,” she told him, “our contact has been delayed. He anticipates he will be here tomorrow.”
“Unacceptable,” Malisane replied gruffly, “well I am not waiting here. We will return to the Deathshead and wait until he arrives.”
She turned to him. “I have bad news on that as well sir.”
“What?” he asked.
“Due to the championship the spaceport is currently sealed off sir,” she explained, “apparently there was interference with the racing in the past. This is a new rule.”
Malisane looked at her. “They can not be serious. How long does it last?”
She tapped her datapad a few times, and then her fingers brushed against the screen. “It is due to finish in about five hours sir.”
Malisane looked around them in distaste. “So we can either watch five hours of idiots on ludicrously unsafe crafts crashing and burning with inane commentary while the crowd cheer or go “oooooo”, or we can go and find somewhere half decent for a drink until the spaceport opens.”
“Second one sir?”
“Yes.” He paused. “Move out now and be quick about it.”
“Sir?” she asked, slightly offended by his tone.
“Not you,” he looked down as a black astromech droid emerged from under a nearby table, its head rotating left and right, and it made a deep disapproving tone.
“Lead the way Zero,” Malisane ordered.

As it turned out the second option was not as easy as it sounded. The Championship was a popular event, and it had drawn a large crowd and every sort of stall and game had been brought to make money from them. The assassin droid was pushing its way through the packed crowd, making loud noise every time they got too close. Both Malisane and Cerys kept their possessions close to them as they were jostled occasionally, both aware this was a haven for pickpockets. Malisane watched and Cerys sensed the attractions around them, as a wall of noise and smells hit them of games, food and people. Malisane grew impatient and pushed past the droid, heading for a smallish clearing. Then he heard a voice “Hey you in the hood, come over here.”
Malisane's had went down to a concealed pocket in the back of his robes, where his lightsaber was hidden. His gaze turned curiously as he prepared for action. Then he saw a brightly dressed man waving at him.
“Yeah you, come and try your luck, only five credits a go.”
Malisane saw several people surrounding the man looking at him, and after a seconds hesitation walked over.

The man was stood in front of a small table, on which were three upturned cups. He was beaming at the Warlord. “Sir, for just five credits you get a chance to win fifty shiny ones. All you have to do is watch and then guess which cup the balls is under.” He was holding a small golden ball in one hand.
“Very well,” Malisane replied, producing a credit note from a stash he kept for emergencies when he did not want a digital trail.
The man put the note on the table in front of him. “Okay sir, her we go. I put this ball under the middle cup, do you see it there sir?”
“Obviously,” Malisane replied, and heard a slight chuckle from those surrounding him.
“Good sir, you're a natural, now watch closely sir as I cover the ball, and then try and follow it. If your eyes are keen you win the fifty credits.”
The man's hands now began to move quickly, moving the three cups around expertly in an apparently random pattern, and Malisane's blue eyes watched them quietly as others leaned in for a closer look.
Finally the man stopped and stepped back. “Alright sir, I hope you were watching hard. So tell me, where is the ball?”
Malisane looked down for a few seconds, and then his gaze passed up the man's brightly coloured shirt to look him deeply in the eyes. “Your left hand,” he replied in a quiet tone.
The man's face did not flicker. “I beg your pardon sir?”
“The ball,” Malisane said slowly and slightly louder, “is in your left hand.” There was now a murmuring from the crowd, including previous unlucky players, and it was becoming darker.
The man's face remained passive, but now his eyes showed a hint of fear. “I think you are mistaken sir,” he replied, “I'll show you.” His hand moved quickly for the centre cup, and then stopped as Malisane's gaze descended to it. His arm began to shake and the man now showed signs of discomfort, as his arm slowly raised up, and his knuckles turned white as he tried to keep his fist clenched. Finally as sweat broke out on his face his fingers opened to show the ball.
As Malisane stepped back, around him the crowd suddenly stepped forward as one towards the man, who now brought his right hand up and grabbed his cash box. As the crowd continued to move he turned and bolted off into the people behind him.

Malisane watched the pursuit with interest. “Better than pod racing.”
“That was probably unnecessary sir,” Cerys replied.
“I can not stand cheats,” he told her.
She thought for a few seconds. “But if his game had been honest you would have been cheating,” she reasoned, “you're a force user.”
“I could sense his deception before I agreed to play,” he replied, “had I not I would not have bothered.”
“Very well.” she replied.
Malisane looked down. “Zero, find us a cantina. Lead the way.”
They walked a bit further, until Cerys stopped. “One moment Warlord.”
Malisane looked around suspiciously, “What?”
“That knife throwing game.”
“What about it.”
“I wish to take part,” she replied.
Malisane shrugged. “As you wish. I will find a table.”

He continued walking until he found a cantina that was not too busy. He walked inside, Zero following him. He looked around. It was obvious why it was half empty. The atmosphere was dark and oppressing, the patrons skulked over their drinks, casting the odd suspicious look at the door whenever anyone entered before looking back down, and the furniture was old and basic with little comfort. Malisane nodded to himself. This would do nicely. As he approached a bar a Toydarian fluttered over, and hovered in front of the Sith.
“Welcome custome. I am Hogi, you want table and drink?”
“Of course,” Malisane replied, “do you have a problem with the droid?”
The Toydarian looked down at the assassin astromech droid, and then back at Malisane. “Of course not, everybody welcome here, so long as the little fellow buys his round. Hahaha!”
Ignoring the derisive tone from the droid, Malisane nodded. “Good, then I will have a table and bring me something strong.”
“Good!” the owner replied as he flew over to an empty table in one corner, “you come at good time, this is happy hour in Hogi's Bar!”
Malisane looked around once more at the dark cantina with its quiet skulking half sozzled customers. “So I see.”
“One moment and I bring you best drink you have for years.” Hogi flew off towards the bar and Malisane was seated, being careful to face the door and most of the bar.

After a few moments a man approached the table and leaned over the Sith. “Hey do you want..”
“No,” Malisane replied.
“You don't know what I was about to ask,” the man protesest
“The answer is the same.”
“Hey you,” Hogi said as he flew over with a flagon, “I tell you no deathstick selling in my bar, and if you want to use you go outside. You give Hogi's bad name. This is family place.”
The death stick dealer and Malisane both looked around the bar again, and shared a quick puzzled glance, and then the man shrugged and walked away to his table.”
Malisane looked at the small glass that was put in front of him. He picked it up and took a drink of the liquid. As his throat burned and his eyes watered slightly he recognised the drink. “You have Ewok Liquor here?”
“Yeah, is very popular. Label say it is brewed on some remote world by ewoks, from ten types of plants and berries. Of course is nonsense is probably brewed in Coriela factory.”
Malisane knew the planet it was brewed on and the Sith-spawned Ewoks that did the brewing, but he shrugged. “Who knows? Bring me another.”
“Good sir, if you like I keep them coming.”

After a few minutes Cerys entered, her sightless eyes failing to notice the grim atmosphere but her nose wrinkled slightly as she smelt it. She headed over the the Sith's table.
Malisane looked up at her. “I assume you were successful, from the bantha you are carrying.”
Cerys put the toy on the table and sat down. “I came second actually, the first prize was a set of crystal glasses. I was close but lost.”
“Life is full of disappointments Captain.”
“So what is the plan sir? I assume you do not intend to eat here?”
“I am not that hungry. I am prepared to wait until we can get back to the ship.”
The Toydarian appeared with a second drink. “Hey you meet lady friend, I told you is happy hour at Hogi's. Is good for romance!”
Cerys looked up at him coldly. “Just bring me whatever he is having."
Malisane's lip twisted in what could be amusement but he said nothing.