Fiction Activity Overview

Displaying fiction activity reports 9681 - 9690 of 13373 in total
Competition
Conspiracy Theories
File submission
Ready_State.pdf
Competition
Conspiracy Theories
File submission
Meme.pdf
Textual submission

Tee hee ;D

In all seriousness though, I'll tell the story...

**Tipoca II Medical Outpost **
*Excidium Summit Chambers*

"Rumors of a war have been spreading, but apparently the newest rumor includes information on the Grand Master pushing off attempting to find us." Braecen Kaeth sighed. He placed his fists on the metallic long boardroom table ahead of him and shook his head. He lifted his eyes to see the newly named Quaestor, his apprentice, biting her lip at the information she was just given.

Alara couldn't help but copy his imagery and shake her head as well. "What do you think caused this? Last I checked, he was absolutely riveting at us. He destroyed our entire system for Palpatine's sake. Why would he put off our impending doom and dare to give us extra time to gather resources to fight back?"

"Could be literally anything. Maybe they're making clones, and ran out of DNA. Or perhaps they needed to stop for fuel." Braecen chuckled slightly in attempts to lighten the situation. "Either way, it is troubling. We need to take advantage of this time and ready our forces. I will get to work on preparing our fleet. But I want *you* to figure out what is going on." The Proconsul pointed across the table and turned to leave the room.

"You're sending **me** for a scout's mission? What of my new House? Shouldn't I be at the helm with them?" Alara scoffed and stood up from her chair. "Are you really audacious enough to put one of our best fighters on a Neophyte's mission?"

The Elder turned around and glared at his apprentice in frustration. "The reason I am sending *you* after the Grand Master is exactly as you stated. You are one of our best fighters. If the Grand Master were to discover our plans and your snooping, I know you'd make it home faster than a Neophyte would. Get your ass into your ship and take a look."

Alara gulped her frustration, paused for a moment, and nodded. "Aye. Understood, m'Lord."

Braecen's shoulders raised in a sigh and he turned to the Battlemaster once more, "My apologies. The rapid changes appear to be getting to me. I want to keep an eye on you in your new position, but I also need your skill. You served the Battle Team Tacitus Athanasius for many moons. We need that skill and your survival instincts on this."

Alara raised her head to meet eye contact with her Proconsul and smiled slightly. "Thank you, M'lord. I'll not fail you."

"I know you won't. You have a whole House depending on your success." Braecen returned the smile. "Congratulations."

"I'm here because of you, ya know. Because of that, I'll bring them success they deserve. I'll be back in a few hours." Alara assured him. The Elder nodded in return, and headed out the door. Her eyes immediately went to her datapad sitting on her left wrist and the Sith began sending off requests for her ship and droid to be ready. Before she could think or speak another word aloud, she headed towards the transport bay.

**Amongst Space**
*Below the Grandmaster's Major Starship*

Alara's ARC-170 Starfighter hung low underneath the Grandmaster's starship, ready to allow its owner to reach the garbage chute.

*It's just after 19:00 hours, here's hoping the dinner rush is over and there aren't any dianogas to deal with,* she scoffed to herself.

"You're not going to need my assistance, are you Lady Deathbane?" her assassin droid, nicknamed as Baxter, spoke with a hint of dread.

"No, Baxter. You're only a droid equipped for perfect situations like this, so you're *obviously* not eligible for such a mission." Alara rolled her eyes and began to prepare herself to enter the garbage chute.

"Okay perfect! I'll go sit over here and keep watch then." Baxter indicated a sound of joy in his vocal components and clapped his hands while returning to his co-pilot seat.

"You're so helpful, you know that?" Alara called from the starfighter's top exit.

"I'm programmed to know of my capability, yes! I'll keep watch and ensure the baddies don't find us here." he answered and clicked in his seat belt as if sealing Alara's lonesome fate.

The Battlemaster let out a sigh and made her way up the garbage chute, dreading what may be ahead of her. The half-Sephi remembered to incorporate traction soles and gloves into her costume to ensure that she would not slip too far down the piping to her doom. She climbed in successfully, closed the latch, and let out a gulp as she made her way up the tunnel, dodging a few times due to quick supper dishes and wrappers. Once she made it to a horizontal surface, her legs were much relieved. The Quaestor couldn't help but wipe off her brow with an elbow as she checked her datapad. Braecen was supposed to upload the starship's blueprints. A slight moment of anxiety sucked the air out of her lungs, but released when she realized she did indeed receive the message.

*Path says go left at the fork. Let's do this, 'Lara."

She headed down the path as directed and ended up at the Grand Master's garbage chute after several twists and turns within the chutes. She could already hear his voice from behind the walls as she drew closer.

"... You know what, Marick? I gotta say. That was the best night I've had in a long time. Thank you for convincing me to go." Pravus laughed and flopped into what must have been his desk chair. Alara peered through a small corner that was curled in the metal chute door and listened carefully. She could see Wally leaning on a sofa, laughing and looking directly at his superior. When Alara turned her eyes to his left, she spotted someone that made her heart sink. Wyndel: Her first love, and the Voice's younger brother.

*What is this pathetic no-callin-back-two-timing-fwecball doing here?* Alara growled in the precincts of her mind.

"I'm glad to hear it, my Lord! When Wyndel told me of this place, I knew I had to bring you there myself. It may be a bar of... the unusual sort... but it's so much fun and the waitresses know how to treat you right." The Voice laughed with a hearty laugh and patted his brother on the back.

*That better not be the place I think it is...*

"Where did you learn about such a place anyway, brother?" Marick asked his younger sibling.

"Well... I came upon it on one of my... how you put it, excursions. A friendly blonde brought me there on accident in her attempts to encourage me to a one night stand." Wyndel spoke earnestly. He smiled slightly, but his eyes told the tale that he felt a sting of nostalgia at his words that left his lips.

*Damn it. It is the place I'm thinking of. So this idiot still has feelings for me then.* Alara smiled to herself mischeviously, then shook it off to continue listening.

"Oh my... Was she any good at least?" Pravus chuckled as he took a sip of Corellian wine that was sitting at the desk before him. With a quick laugh, he took a swig, threw his empty glass, and chugged from the bottle instead.

"You know what they say about blondes. It's always good." Wyndel chuckled. He opened his jacket to pull out his own swig of whiskey in a can.

"Well I for one would like to find Mr. Grand Master here a blonde to try for himself! What say you, Pravus? Shall we continue the gallavanting?!" Marick giggled and stepped towards Pravus with his eyebrow pointing to the ceiling.

Pravus finished chugging his wine, sighed in refreshment, and smirked up at his fellow Dark Council member. "And put off the war any longer?"

Marick hesitated, then nodded. "Well I know my wife might be angry, but it's none of her business when it comes to matters with the Grand---"

"OF COURSE we shall! Where are we in the galaxy right now? Let's head to one with more and more babes! I'm tired of war planning, and this exhaustion won't leave me for another few evenings with blondes and Twi'leks! Let's go now!"

*I think I've heard enough of this.* Alara quickly swung around and headed back to her starfighter. As she slid down the tunnels and chute paths to return to her ship, she quickly typed on her datapad to her Proconsul:

"No need to worry about Pravus. He's busy hunting for the next Miss Grand Master for the night. And the next. And the next. It's time to get our forces ready.

-Alara"

Competition
The Horror In the Dark
File submission
The_Horror_In_the_Dark.pdf
Textual submission

Lucyeth
#13700

Competition
Heir to my Lineage
Submission
Maximus Alvinius opted out of publishing his submission.
Competition
Heir to my Lineage
File submission
Closing_Time.docx
Competition
Heir to my Lineage
Textual submission

So much has happened over the last few years. I joined a group, a cult really, within a secret Order styling itself as a group of fraternity. It is laughable really, to fancy the Brotherhood as what they call it. There is little sense of fraternity between the Clans, but given the events of late that is a story unto itself.

Looking back, even before my days as a Sadowan, I really never fancied myself anything like a family man. There was always too much going on. Family brought with itself a sort of collateral I never felt I could afford. Yet, here I find myself now as both a husband and a father.

I act as both Patriarch of a family, and as a Proconsul over the Clan. There isn't a lot of time to spend with my wife, so I was glad to see she came to Sepros. She even brought Lyna'Vel with her. The Consul gave me a couple hours to spend with them both.

"Hey kiddo." A chuckle escaped my lips as I stretched out my hands toward my daughter. She began to babble as I rocked her in one arm, smiling before I turned my attention to Tasha'Vel. "So, how bad is it?"

"What are you talking about, Bentre?"

"Oh, come on. Do you really think we can keep her safe on Ryloth for so long? I find it hard to believe that you enjoy shuttling between Ryloth, Tarthos and Sepros this often. Maybe we should look at cutting ties for a while. We can burn the bridge before-"

"No." The word came out as a sharp rebuke. The Twi'leki Sadowan's stare was harder than permacrete. "Why would we abandon our home estate?"

"We need to protect our child. Which is more important, Tash?" I held up a hand to interrupt her before she could object. "Failing that we need a way to protect her." I motioned my head toward the child in my arms. Concern marred the normally picturesque visage of my Tasha'Vel as she mentally chewed over the idea.

"What would you propose we do?" The question was tentative, and I could hear the concern. "There is only so much we can do, sweetheart. Are you suggesting we leave her in the charge of someone in the Clan?"

"Well," my voice faltered as a smile cracked the illusion of calm I strove to maintain, "something sort of like that. I was perusing the notes of our beloved Mad Alchemist, and I believe I might have a solution." This statement earned me a glare of suspicion from the woman of my life. I didn't expect she would go for this, but it was worthwhile to consider. "He did a bit with the child of our Clan's own Teu."

"Oh?" I could see a bit of genuine curiosity now. Macron had trained with her in Echani, he and I had compared notes concerning Alchemy and of course he patched up my eye after my little encounter with that worm, Ventus. So needless to say, we both considered him a friend of the family. Hopefully I would be able to bank on that for what I wanted to propose.

"Well, he managed to, shall I say, add some years to the child's life." This statement prompted a bit of confusion. I was going to have to prod a little differently. "He found out how to bottle experience to be applied at a whim." Her expression returned to one of suspicion and annoyance now. I had to suppress a chuckle as I contemplated how to next rephrase it. "Hell with it, Tash. Macron accelerated the child's growth. Imagine, the ability to pass years of development to see the glory of our prodigy. With a more developed frame, we can teach her Martial Arts, Alchemic Arts, and we can assure she will be able to defend herself! It would be glorious as both a solution and oh-" I shuddered slightly as I let a few chuckles slip, "it would be such an experiment! Given her parentage, she could even be trained to be a great Sith one day! Don't you see what could be?"

I had never seen something quite like the expression upon my wife's face just then. It was like betrayal, then sorrow, each emotion flashing by before settling into something like contempt. "This is our Lyna'Vel, and you want to use her as a," her voice curdled, "test subject for your labs? How could you ask such a thing!?"

"I only want what is best for her." I spoke the words in near deadpan.Obviously, my wife did not see the wisdom in this path. "I only-" I started to repeat my statement, but she scooped Lyna'Vel from my arms before turning on one heel and storming down the hallway. I stood there for several moments before letting out a long sigh. It went as well as I could have expected. I might have to take things into my own hands to ensure her safety. It is a father's duty, after all to protect his offspring.

Competition
Heir to my Lineage
File submission
Babbeh_BABBEH.pdf