Fiction Gallery

What does it mean to be a member of Scholae Palatinae for me? Well, there are many meanings.

First of all, our clan has taught me the true meaning of family and friendship. When I first came here to the DJB, I had no friends, no job, a broken heart after a runaway fiance, a disease doctors told me I couldn't handle, and depression up the wah-zoo. I was hesitant at first, and because of this I didn't join as quickly as I was invited to by Shadow, but I eventually took the plunge, downloaded Telegram, and decided to explore this new world. Immediately I encountered wonderful friends that were ready and very willing to get to know me simply for me: not because of what I could do for them, what my mental illnesses and medical conditions made me do, or what boobs I could show them on the internet. They wanted to get to know me because they saw something inside me that I didn't see. And through truly getting to know them and loving them, I learned a way to also get to know and love myself. I have made life long friendships in the Brotherhood that have taught me honor, responsibility, leadership, perseverance, stewardship, and most of all, worth. This clan helped me better myself and believe in my strengths while they ever so lovingly challenged my weaknesses, doubts, and invited me to explore the unknown with them. Because of all this, to be a member of Clan Scholae Palatinae has a much deeper definition. It means to belong to a family that never leaves people behind.

Secondly, being a member means to come to an agreement even if parties still disagree. Many political advancements in my DJB career and the careers of others has brought this to light several times. Just because someone disagrees with you, it doesn't mean they can't work alongside you or like you. That's something being in Leadership with CSP has taught me. Though my 'German' (as Jorm likes to call it) side comes out often and can make me out to be a real 'Lara bitch, at the end of the day, I am taught to recognize solution rather than dissolution. I have been trained to expect agreement even among people I disagree with. It has brought true balance to the Force for me, I suppose.

Finally, being a member means to be an explorer. I was always taught from the get-go to explore new fields of the website, explore new competition types, explore the wiki, explore the Shadow Academy campus, and to explore my own interests and the interests of others. When I came to the DJB at first, I wasn't a huge Star Wars Nerd. (I know, I'm a heathen. Shush. Just pass the holy rum.) In fact, it wasn't until I dove further into the Shadow Academy classes that I truly discovered my love for the realm, especially the Advanced Lightsaber Studies course. It fascinated me. Then when I watched the movies over again with a new perspective and a much older outlook, I was able to actually understand what a Republic was and the politics behind what was going on behind the screen in front of me. This brotherhood has given me a much broader perspective on the Star Wars Nerdom as a whole, and has allowed me to find my home within it.

So there ya have it.

Alara's heart skipped a beat. It was time. She could see her prey, the sun of Seraph was setting in the background, it was just a matter of time before the time to strike would come. The Savant crept down the alleys of the Meraxis Empire and hung her head low underneath her cloak. She dared not make any eye contact with citizens that walked by in case she were spotted and interrogated for her presence here.

The rumors and economy this Empire spreads makes me think of a legendary one... Reich was it? Her lack of memory made her shake her head. It is time to focus, not time to think on things that truly never existed.

She placed her hand steadily on her hilt. Perfect. The shiny, newly poisoned Sith Blade she was just awarded was tucked away secretly under her cloak. It was ready for its very first kill. Her poison was meant to paralyze any witnesses it may come across while it would give a killing strike to the victim Scholae Palatinae waited longingly to destroy: The Meraxis Emperor himself.

Alara awaited the arrival of dusk in the city and eagerly watched the Emperor's March begin in the main street. There he was. The Emperor in all his glory: He wore a cheap suit with a ill-shapen bone crown on his head as mockery to any that betray him. The Dark Jedi moved quickly from the alley, hopped onto the medieval rooftops, and observed the early crime scene below.

Damn, she thought with a biting lip, there is no way I'm getting myself in that crowd. I'll never get close enough. Suddenly a thought popped into her brain that tickled her lips into a smile. Easy. I'll shoot him with my energy bow.

As the crowd drew nearer to her location, she found a tower to stand behind and lifted the bow to her cheek. The dashing emperor's cleanly cut black-hair came into sight, and gave her the perfect angle to strike. She breathed in deeply, called upon the Force for guidance in her mind, and let her fingers leave the bow's string. As if perfectly destined, the shot blasted a bolt of energy directly into the handsome emperor's temple, and knocked him clear off his faux leather throne. The crowd up-roared in both joy and in anxiety as each person was thankful for the shot that saved them from an anarchist Emperor, but were afraid for their own lives and began running across the street in frenzy. Alara let out a chuckle and smiled in satisfaction. The job was done. The Emperor was destroyed. It was time for the new Empress, Elincia Rei, to be in true reign on this planet.

Alara turned behind the tower and quickly flicked her left wrist in front of her to make contact with the Proconsul.

"Has the task been completed?" Braecen's voice echoed over the datapad.

"Aye. The Emperor has fallen. Let's show the rest of these Meraxis what we are made of."

Bentre shifted his stance, being careful not to lose his careful hold as he did so. With a foot, he pulled t he elevated child seat toward himself. In his hands, he balanced two plate with portion of fresh vegetables arrayed on each.

"Come over here with her, Tash'. I will have to grab Lyna's food from the kitchen, but we are almost ready to eat."

There was a simple pleasure in this simple domestic task. Stahoes had been so busy over the last few months, that he felt he was more familiar with the faceplate of his datapad than he was with his wife's face. As he watched Tasha'Vel cuddling their daughter, Bentre realized again how much he missed his wife. She was now going to serve with the Ragnosian Summit, so she would be closer to home. Maybe he would be able to visit with both the ladies of his life more often now. He somehow doubted it. Sepros may not be that far away from Tarthos but it seemed like fate conspired to keep the couple apart.

Upon returning with the plate, the Battlelord let out a short sigh. This drew the attention of his Twi'leki spouse. There was a concern in the woman's eyes. Her face silently asked if there was something wrong. Bentre shook his head, as though dispelling a wayward thought. He couldn't ignore the possibility forever, though.

"Tasha'Vel, at what point?"

His wife looked up, genuine confusion drawing her lips together briefly. "What do you mean?"

"At what point do we tell the Clan to go to hell for once?"

The Versea Matriarch paused for several seconds, carefully considering her husband's expression. "Why would we tell Sang to go to hell, exactly? What are you saying, Bentre?"

"I am saying I am getting tired." Before he realized what he was doing, Stahoes was up on his feet, his hands balled up in arger. "Because," his voice rose, "I am barely able to see either my wife or my daughter without planning around some ten other tasks. Because every time that we are looking at a chance to get away, every time that we consider taking a break, every time that things seem to be getting too nice, something has always come up." Tasha'Vel dropped her eyes to the table's surface, deep in thought and Bentre continued. "Tasha, I want to be able to raise our daughter together and as it is I barely see you between the estate on Ryloth and your work with Marka Ragnos."

Lyna'Vel began to fuss, prompting her mother to pick her up and rock her gently. Stahoes glared from his daughter to his wife, his frustration coiling his anger up in his gut. He felt like a compressed string, ready to fly off at any moment. After a few minutes, their daughter had calmed. The Versea Matriarch held the child as she studied her husband's expression.

"So Bentre, what would you like us to do? We can't exactly run away. Besides, from what you said it sounds like Sanguinius needs you here."

"He doesn't need me. He has things under better control right now than I could have expected all things considered." The man could hear the bitterness in his voice, but he shrugged away any guilt he felt for it. He liked the Consul, immensely considering just how different the two of them were. "Besides, I wasn't meaning that, exactly. It's just all so-" he let the word trail off as he watched his daughter throw a piece of soft fruit across the table in front of her child seat.

"stressful?" Tasha'Vel finished his sentence, her tone hopeful. "You knew what you were getting into when you accepted the appointment, didn't you love?"

Bentre shook his head even as he let a smile slip. "Guilty as charged, I guess." He nodded twice, recalling the work duties that remained for the rest of the week. "Well, I will tell you what. We will plan a vacation to Naboo in a couple weeks. We will take the Iron Wolf II, pack a couple of days of food and just have a nice camping trip or something."

"That would give us a chance to get away from the Clan for a little bit." Tasha'Vel agreed. Let's make it a date." Smiling in earnest, Tasha'Vel picked her daughter up, brushing some of the now-squished fruit from the front of the young Twi'lek's bib. "Then Mommy, Daddy and Lyna can all have a nice time, huh?" She spoke in a slightly higher tone as she spoke to her daughter, shooting a knowing smile at the now-slightly-relaxed Bentre.

Stahoes' smile faded as he reflected on the events of the last few years since he had joined the Brotherhood. The likes of the vermin on Nar Shadda seemed so distant a memory. They were but a relic of another life. The living that Bentre and Tasha'Vel carved out together had been as rough-hewn as the rivalry had been in the beginning, when her husband had planted a vibroknife into one of her lekku in an attempt to debilitate her. Even since then, the two of the- three with Lyna'Vel- had made even more of a life for themselves in spite of the danger of the Brotherhood in it's current state.

It was going to be hard. It always had been. They would make it through things together. If things got to be too stressful, the two of them would serve as an anchor to each other. They had began their relationship as little more than rivals in training, and had moved to friendly rivals, and eventually to spouses. It was a thing to behold.

Bentre withdrew from the dining room with a slight grimace, returning after about five seconds with a brown-green bottle of liquid. Twisting the bottle's top with his left hand, the man threw the plastic stopper away. Bringing the container to his lips, Bentre began to quickly drain the bottle. Once emptied, the Sadowan Proconsul placed the now-empty bottle upon the dining room table.

"You have a deal, Tash'. We will get a three day holiday, recharge our batteries. After that, we can evaluate if we need to do anything different. Besides, between the Clan Summit and your work with your team, we might find ourselves a lot busier than we expect. We might not a lot of time to dwell on what could be. " Offering a smile he didn't feel, Bentre tried to put away his thoughts and feeling of unease. Sometimes, it was really just better to try and pretend.

Why did I ever agree to this? Tusken Raiders are about as pleasant as Ewoks, but at least with Ewoks you can fit them into your nearest overhead luggage compartment on a standard shuttle.

I stifled a chuckle as I peered through my macrobinoculars. I was growing painfully stiff by this point, but I struggled to remain as still as possible. I know that I could have trusted that the holoshroud would have kept me cloaked if I moved, but that felt lazy. It was easy to slip up when you didn't practice discipline. I wish that I could instill that truth in the likes of my apprentice and some of my Clan fellows, but I guess it didn't really matter that much in the end.

I could feel my throat drying again, but I had to resist the urge to reach for my canteen again. I had to wait until the sun went down before I could scrounge up some vegetation for moisture. It wasn't the most efficient way of getting water, but I found that the constant thirst kept my mind focused on the task at hand. I just had to keep lying to myself. Laying prone on the ground didn't make it any easier.

Just a little longer.

I could see movement from the Tusken camp. It looked like they were assembling a hunting party. I tried to scour my brain for what they could be hunting on Tatooine. Nothing came to mind though. I turned my head a bit, trying to focus on the large bantha that bore one of the Tusken Raiders. There was a solemnity as they gathered. There was a purpose. The Raider on the large Bantha seemed to be rallying or leading his fellows. Well, at least I think it was a he.

As I considered the scene, a feeling of unease settled in my stomach. There was one possibility that I really did not want to consider. I was too far from the Iron Wolf II to make a free run back to the freighter. Was it possible that I had been detected? I dared to turn my head to look off to my left. The sand stretched out in that direction, offering little in the way of cover. There was little in the other direction to consider either.

More potential complications arose in my head as I considered my limited resources. My intent had been to go undiscovered to report back. It was looking less possible, which left two options. I could either run, or I could start shooting. I dropped one hand from my macrobinoculars and fingered my security pistol on my belt. I could take out five, maybe ten if I took my time. That assumed I wouldn't get noticed. I slowly pulled the weapon from my belt. Fingers slipped from the weapon as the muzzle snagged on my belt.

I was an idiot. I could have gone slower. As the weapon hit the ground, the blaster discharged. A bolt flew over the heads of the Tuskens. They began looking about from the source of the disturbance. I could feel their eyes rolling over me as they searched. I knew they didn't necessarily notice me yet. That could change very quickly though.

I would have to make a break for it. If I turned back enough to fire a couple of times I might scare them a bit. Or I might piss them off. I wasn't sure and concentrating was getting harder. Force help me, I really should have brought a lightsaber with me or something. This was going to be sticky.

Bentre cast a sidelong glance in the direction of the orange-skinned Twi'lek girl as she meditated quietly. Today would have to be a different sort of lesson for his apprentice. Closing his eyes, the Sith ran quickly through the sequence of events. The history had proved to be an interesting one. He did not want to stray from the record more than necessary.

"I have shared many bits of wisdom with you over our weeks and months of training, Lav'anre. The one tale I have not related is actually one than has driven me these months. Today, I will tell you the tale of Darth Ferus." A minor tremor echoed through the Force in that moment. His words had been meant with confusion.

"Who?"

"Darth Ferus was a mighty Sith of old. He operated in the darkness, striking only when it was necessary. While others fought wars with Jedi with ancient machines or flashy shows of power, Ferus was a more cunning creature. While others marched to war, he led them from the rear. And then, during the age of Darth Bane, Ferus fled out to Wild Space. There he had constructed a shelter within a cave on a planet akin to Kashyyyk. Inside he had constructed holocrons, battle droids, tomes and all manner of tools. That was not the thing that truly set him apart from the likes of his contemporaries however."

"What do you mean, master?" Her tone was curious, but the girl's attention was already beginning to slip.

"According to the journals I have found, a few of which I believe are authentically his, though perhaps archival copies." Bentre shook his head without opening his eye. "Either way it does not really matter though. It holds many common threads with the whispers I heard of this Sith Lord long before finding them. For you see, Ferus was a wild man. Though, I suppose that calling him a man may have been a stretch. Whatever he was, he had an unbelievable appetite. He sought knowledge and power like a man stranded in the desert seeks water. More than that, he was ravenous. I am sure you have heard of someone being 'eaten up' by an obstacle or an opponent?"

The girl was silent.

"He really did it. For that man, it was no hyperbole. More than that, he seemed to assimilate knowledge more than learn it. By absorbing the strength and knowledge of his victims, Darth Ferus became a force to be reckoned with. Given enough time, the Sith Lord would have challenged even the strongest Force Users of his day."

"I have never heard the name of Ferus before today. How can that be?"

Bentre chuckled. "The really big thing that I have realized as I have garnered my own strength is probably the same reason that he is unknown to you, my apprentice. For you see, Darth Ferus feared loss. Darth Ferus hid himself away out of a selfishness that outweighed mere secrecy. Unlike the others, he feared he could not keep his secrets to himself. He was said to have possessed untouched youth, strength to rival a rancor, a mastery of the Force that would have caused a Jedi Grand Master to blush and a ferocity to rival a rabid wookie. He was a monster, pure and simple."

"What would bring down the likes of a Sith Lord of that nature?"

"The thing that brought about his failure is a common thread among many Sith of old. He trusted. Ferus trusted his apprentice a portion of his secrets. A young girl served as his right hand. The girl became impatient with the machinations of the Sith. She made it up in her mind that she was done with playing the subservient role. She struck her master at the one point that all sentients are weak- while he was at rest. She stabbed the monster to death with his own weapon while he laid in his bed."

"So, even the strong eventually fail?" Lav'anre was starting to piece together his lessons more quickly at this point in their training. It pleased Bentre to see her reason one without awaiting explanation. "Is the lesson here one about pride in one's own abilities?" Sometimes she was wrong, but there was something to be gained from failure.

"The lesson in the tale of Darth Ferus is quite simple. He assumed that by hiding he would be spared the ultimate fate that becomes all beings. While he grasped great power, he assumed that he was untouchable. Like so many Sith before him, Ferus came to believe that he would live forever. So, yes in a way it had to deal with his pride. But more so, he lost sight of reality while held in the thralls of power."

The apprentice nodded slowly without speaking. After several moments, Bentre opened his eyes and watched her out of the corner of his eyes for another few moments before he let out a sigh. "Do you have a question weighing on your mind, my student? I want no secrets between us."

The Twi'lek opened her mouth, though remaining momentarily silent. "You have never been one to tell stories just to make a point, master. There is always something that you want me to take away to apply on a practical level. Is that correct here as well?"

"You are picking up more quickly. Feel free to speculate. What do you believe is the lesson here?"

The girl nodded slowly, considering her next words. "Well, it almost seems like the lesson is to watch my own pride. I could also argue that Ferus' inaction was his undoing. If I were to examine the parallels between you and I versus Ferus and his apprentice, I could almost say that you are warning me against attacking you?"

Bentre had to suppress a laugh at this. He shook his head, his mouth twisted in amusement. "This Sith of old had a great deal of power at his hands. The lesson is less in what was done by the apprentice. Ferus proved a fool by failing to act. His desire to preserve that which would fail, his very life by the nature of the Sith being ultimately forfeit, he showed his greatest weakness. His apprentice killed him, and in an attempt to keep his own secrets many abilities were lost to antiquity with his passing. No, my young one, there are two things that you really need to understand."

"Oh?"

"Firstly, you need to ensure you are not destroying a tool or a legacy if you decide to take that path." Bentre let out a snort. "Also, if you plan to try and take me out, I caution you not to assume it would be half as easy as killing off any other Sith. If you are lucky my wife would be absent when you did the deed. Force help you when she catches wind of what happened though. No, rather you need to be sure that you are always the most direct-indirect cause of your master's demise if you decide to take such a path."

The girl raised a hand as though to protest. Stahoes shook his head, and continued. "The apprentice fell to those whose ambitions were greater than yours. This applies to more than Sith secrets so keep in mind this simple truth. Regardless of your path to power, never take on more than you can handle at the time, my student. Ambition is good, but even we of the Dark Side must show some measure of temperance. Think on the things I have told you, and in a few hours we will discuss your observations further. In the mean time, continue your meditations down here."

Without looking back, Bentre unfolded his legs to stand upon stiff legs. He had a lot to do yet and only so much sunlight in which to do it. Things were coming to a head in the Brotherhood. The Clan had to prepare for the storm that was to come. If not, there might not be anybody left who cared to plunder the gathered secrets, and perhaps Bentre too would fade into obscurity like many a Sith of old.

Tangled in her trap Black haired woman keeps the blonde She heals, not her hair

Girl rescues her dad. Girl is captured by a beast. Girl redeems the beast.

*Beauty and the Beast

Movie: The Lion Kind

A lion's dad dies, He get's his sweet, sweet revenge, On his cruel uncle Scar.

Hercules

Kidnapped from my home Wanna be a true hero But I love this chick

Little Mermaid

Mermaid princess love Cannot be found under sea So she sells her soul

Lion King:

The Circle of Life Brings one king's reign to an end, As the son ascends.

Inspired by Lion King - this is my submission for judgement

Can't wait to be king Little lion cub proclaims Till Mufasa dies

Fox and the Hound

Red fox cozies to Hound dog next door who tries to Ignore his nature.

Story: Pinocchio

An old woodcarver Once made a wooden puppet Name: Pinocchio.

One day brought to life By a fairy to become A real boy, real soon.

When he proves to be brave, truthful, and unselfish His dream has come true.

Apples were his trade Gave his thanks to God each day Headed west with seeds

"The Legend of Johnny Appleseed"

The tension in the air was thick as the two warriors stared each other down. Kaayn Salis felt the cloth of his white shirt stretch against his arms as he readied himself into a fighting stance. His opponent, T’Espera, donning the traditional orange combat uniform of her family, was already in fighting position. After what seemed like an eternity, T’Espera charged forward throwing a series of punches. Kaayn brought his hands up to intercept the onslaught of punches and ducking as a hammer fist came flying to towards the side of his head. With lightning fast precision, T’Espera fired another series of punches quickly followed by kicks. Kaayn jumped back, the cold stone railing chilling his back. Anticipating her next attack, Kaayn sidestepped as a flying kick crashed through the railing. T’Espera followed through with a straight punch at Kaayn's head. Kaayn again slipped to the side, sending T’Espera’s fist crashing into a ceramic planter. The planter shattered sending harden clay, dirt, and dust flying through the air.

T’Espera again charged her opponent. Throwing a series of kicks followed up by punches, the Sith angrily pursued Kaayn. Blocking each successive strike, the Grey Jedi was taken by surprise then T’Espera grabbed his arms. The two warriors wrestled for control of the fight. The Sith quickly got the upper hand and sent Kaayn flying across the arena floor. The human male contorted his body and landed in a prone position, propped up by one hand and his feet. T’Espera continued her assault sending a variety of kicks to the man. He hastily dodged the blows and leapt to his feet. T’Espera flew through the air sending a kick into Kaayn’s chest. The kick was followed by another fury of punches and kicks that sent him staggering back.

Kaayn regained his composure and focused on his enemy. He closed the gap to his between the two calmly but with authority. T’Espera, still at the ready, immediately continued her assault on the Grey Jedi. Kaayn quickly blocked the attacks and countered with a punch of his own. He followed through with a punch towards her head. Showing restraint, he stopped it just inches from her face. He knew the pulled punch would show her that he was indeed powerful and that he could beat her. He also knew that she would take the pulled punch as a sign of disrespect.. an insult. This fueled her anger.

She drew her power from her anger and fired back another series of punches and kicks. The renewed strength of the attack surprised Kaayn. He caught the blows in the chest and fell to the ground. He jumped to his feet and noticed the crowd observing and heckling him. He again focused hard on his opponent. T’Espera once again charged towards Kaayn. He leapt in the air threw a thrust a kick directly into her sternum. She flew back crashing into the ground. She glared at Kaayn, and slowly rose to a ready position. Kaayn loosened his stance, bobbing back and forth between his feet, changing the weight distribution.

The two fighters circled for a moment, T’Espera was the first to strike. She charged with a series of punches that were easily dodged by Kaayn. Opening the gap between the two, Kaayn gauged the situation. The Sith charged him again. Kaayn counted with a series of punches, causing T’Espera to crash into a rack of spears. The two fighters stood at a ready, throwing a punch of kick to test the others defenses. T’Espera threw a series of punches and kicks that were blocked by Kaayn. Kaayn retaliated with his own and a strong kicked connected in the chest. Taking a step back, T'Espera observed her opponent. She noticed the changing distribution of his weight. She waited until his weight was on his lead leg and with the speed of a viper attacking its prey, launched a kick into his leg sending him flying to the ground. She threw another kick towards Kaayn as he rolled back to his feet. Kaayn barely avoided the kick and countered with a flying kick to the side of her head.

The Sith and the Grey Jedi lowered into a ready stance glaring at one another, knowing that the fight would soon be over. They exploded at each other, like two elephants going to war. They exchanged a fury of punches and kicks that would look like a blur to any onlookers. Kick, punch, block, punch, block, kick.... Kaayn felt a stalemate was coming and made a quick decision. He leapt in the air and threw a strong kick into his former Apprentices chest. She flew across the arena floor into a set of stone railings. She climbed to her feat, only to fall. She realized she was too beaten to stand and eyed her opponent with seething hatred. “I lost.” She finally conceded as Kaayn left the arena.

As always the streets of Coruscant’s Government sector were packed full of species from all across the galaxy. With their heads down, the Corscanti citizens and its visitors hustled to and fro in all directions attempting to avoid interactions. No one seemed to take the time to take in their surroundings.

Sitting stoic on a bench was TuQ’uan Varick, hat pulled low, eyes sharp, surveying the non-descript building across the square. The Kel Dor had been here unmoving for nearly five hours now, waiting, watching, and preparing. As a guard walked past a door off to the left of the main entrance to the building TuQ’uan made his move. Standing up the mercenary's back made a loud cracking sound and his legs were a little stiff, but that would fix itself quickly. Flowing from group to group, the infiltrator used the crowds as cover to move as quickly as he dared in order to not draw unwanted attention.

Saddling up to the door the mercenary only had a brief window of time to get inside before the next pass by the guard. Jacking his datapad in TuQ’uan got to work typing furiously, sparing only brief glances to make sure he was undisturbed. Click, he was in. Opening the door only as much as necessary to squeeze through, the mercenary slipped in.

Moving from door to door, TuQ’uan tried each one, looking for one that had been left unlocked if possible, however he was not opposed to picking the lock or outright breaking a door down in he had to.

Just over a month ago TuQ’uan had bribed the security guard at a terminal manufacturing plant to let him take a self guided tour around their facility. He had taken this opportunity to plant a data recorder into a terminal set to be delivered to the Coruscanti branch of the Vaslin Shipping Company. His employer believed the company was moving stolen goods on behalf of various government officials and was not only looking for proof but an opportunity as well, and as long as credits were involved so was TuQ’uan.

The Kel Dor reached the end of the Vaslin Shipping Company's hallway and had yet to find an open door, it was time to try a different approach. Reaching into one of his many jacket pockets, TuQ’uan removed a small screwdriver and began taking the lock apart. After a moment of fiddling with it a few sparks flew from the mechanism followed by a small puff of smoke. Sighing the mercenary put the screwdriver away and began prying the door open.

Once TuQ’uan finally managed to get the door open he headed straight for the terminal on the desk and began the next step in his search. It was good new-bad news for the mercenary. On one hand the terminal he had modified was here and in use, bad news was that it was in Mitram Vaslin’s office which also happened to be the most secure and commonly patrolled room in the building.

It took very little time for the Kel Dor to reach the top floor of the building where the executive offices were located, he was in a rush now, and the longer he stayed in the building the more likely he'd be caught. Pausing in the doorway to the stairwell he took a moment to listen for footsteps. Once he was satisfied TuQ’uan made his way to the large double doors to the office. This was a pretty sophisticated lock, he may need help with this one.

A guard could be heard shuffling around the corner. TuQ’uan removed a vibrodagger from its hiding spot in his jacket and moved towards the sound. As the guard rounded the corner the Kel Dor struck, planting the dagger firmly in the chest of the guard and using his other hand to make sure the guards mouth was covered. Now that that mess was done TuQ’uan dragged the body over to the door and placed the cooling hand on the fingerprint scanner. The lock lit up green and the door slid open.

TuQ’uan retrieved his screwdriver again as he walked over to the target terminal. Removing the side panel of the terminal the Kel Dor reached his large hand inside, and with only a little fiddling he was able to retrieve the data recorder. As he got the terminal back together the mercenary's eye was drawn to a safe on the wall. Well I do need a cover story for the break-in, TuQ’uan mused.

Two minutes of working with the safe and TuQ’uan had the safe open and was placing the credits in his pocket. It was then that the he could hear the sirens of the Coruscanti Security Force fast approaching. Moving quickly the mercenary descended a few flights of stairs and waited. Above the footsteps of four Security agents could be heard running down the stairs from the roof to the floor TuQ’uan had just left. When he was sure they had all left the stairwell TuQ’uan made his way up to the roof where the Security Force agents had come from.

Emerging onto the roof TuQ’uan saw something that would have made his smile if it were physically possible, the airspeeder was parked a few feet away and still running, he wouldn't even need to hotwire it. Hoping in, the mercenary found a Coruscanti Security Force badge on the seat, pocketing the badge he took to the skies of Coruscant.

His smooth getaway didn't last long though, more Security Force speeders joined him in the sky attempting to flank on either side. The time for fancy flying had come. TuQ’uan dropped the air speeder into a near straight drop towards the ground, pulling up way later than he had intended, both hands held the controls in a grip that would cut off circulation. The Kel Dor risked a look back to see where his pursuers were. The maneuver had caught them off guard but they were still on his tail, only further away now.

The speeder jerked violently to the left, TuQ’uan had taken his eyes of the traffic on from of him and in turn had bumped into another airspeeder. He quickly regained control of the speeder but the bump had done some damage to the engine which now had smoke beginning to waft out. One of the two pursuing Security Force speeders had stopped to inspect the collision.

The chasm to the lower levels had appeared ahead of TuQ’uan, he got an idea. As he got closer the Kel Dor saw a wall of Security Force air speeders forming, the sirens on all were wailing away. TuQ’uan committed himself to the plan. Increasing to full speed the mercenary aimed directly at the centre of the wall, at the last possible moment TuQ’uan dove beneath the airspeeders. Pulling back on the controls TuQ’uan tried to bring the airspeeder perpendicular to the ground again, he was skimming the streets of Coruscant and approaching the chasm fast. The mercenary was unsuccessful in pulling off his ambitious maneuver, and bounced the bottom of the smoking airspeeder off the ground, destroying the repulsors. After the second impact with the street the airspeeder skated across the ground at full speed towards the chasm, the engines still working away.

With a crash the airspeeder burst through the safety wall at the edge of the shaft and over the edge. The airspeeder was quickly covering the distance to the other side of the chasm as it dropped. Throwing the door of the speeder open TuQ’uan readied himself and jumped for the edge. With a lack of grace the Kel Dor landed and rolled a few times before a pile of foul smelling garbage brought him to a stop, he lay there a moment before being able to bring himself back to his feet. Hobbling away from the incident as quickly as he could, the mercenary needed to find a place to lay low for a bit.

TuQ’uan reached into his pocket to ensure the data recorder was still safe, it was luckily there and in one piece, right beside it was the badge. The feeling of a smile crept over him, this was a story he'd be telling for years to come.

You'd never believe me if I told you that I have friends who were hired by the Inquisitorius, but it's true and I can prove it.

---

The Landsdown Docks were an ever-increasing hub of activity on Aliso. Their importance as the primary civilian spaceport meant it attracted people by the shipload. Settlers of the city itself intermingled with visiting crews keeping their stay on Aliso secluded to the docks. Stuffed haphazardly between the various docking bays were shops and stalls of various kinds desperately attempting to sell or advertise their diverse range of products. Larger establishments felt less pressure to do so, relying instead on the customers packing their premises to showcase their worth.

The most popular of these establishments was the Landsdown Café. Easily one of the largest storefronts in the entire dock area, being the largest wasn’t saying much. The establishment was tucked in between two large bays that could comfortably house small-scale freighters or gunships. To make up for a lack of width, the café was long and narrow, with only a single row mismatched durasteel tables to either side of a main walkway. The tables were accompanied by padded, worn-in chairs, four to a table, tucked neatly under the flat tops. The row of tables ended a few feet away from a long bar area, outfitted with a swath of products that could yield beverages of numerous kinds from across the galaxy, including those with alcohol. Where the bar ended was a small space that an average-sized humanoid could fit through, leading to the kitchen area hidden behind a simple swinging door secured by some rickety hinges. The aroma of various meals and other delectable treats wafted into the cafe with every opening of the door, spurning the appetites of the patrons within.

Near the quaint entrance of the Landsdown Café, a spry Pantoran dressed in simple smuggler’s attire attended two other patrons, pouring a large metallic pot of caf into their mismatched mugs of cheap porcelain. With his back to the entrance, a wide set human man with a sizable gut took his cup eagerly, using his free hand to direct the plumes of steam emanating from the beverage toward his face. To the right of the human man was an exotically beautiful Zeltron woman dressed in elegant though functional attire. She sat with her legs up on the table and leaning back on the rear legs of her chair, fingering her mug of caf at the edge of the table nearest her. Though she was beautiful, she had dangerous eyes that were both sultry and cold at the same time.

“I can’t believe I’ve found you two here,” Laren exclaimed as he sat in a chair against the wall. “After all of these years, you’re both alive and, imagine that, on Aliso.”

The large human man whose name was Gron shrugged lazily. “We heard there was business out this way. Who in their right mind can no’ ignore that.” Gron’s accent in Basic was odd due to his upbringing in the streets of Ord Mantell.

“In truth, we weren’t expecting to find you here.” Merilay, the Zeltron woman, met Laren’s eyes with a firm glance. “Especially among all these Sith types.”

Laren shrugged. “They pay well.”

Gron snorted. “We all know that’s a bag of krayt spit. You were never so simple.”

“And what in the nine hells it that supposed to mean?”

“Money was never your game, Blue. Don’t deny that.”

Laren looked away from Merilay, turning his focus to Gron. He couldn’t help but to feel the heat of his face which he knew was a slightly darker shade of blue. Blue had been his nickname among this lot, back in the day. It had been some time since he heard Merilay utter those words.

Ignoring their comments, Laren continued. “But truly, what brings you out this way?”

Gron set his red-dyed porcelain cup down and looked to Merilay expectantly. Gron had the age and experience among the duo, but she had always been the final say in matters of their work as mercenaries. Merilay returned the look for a moment, sharing a wordless exchange with the bulky man. After a moment she nodded and returned her sharp sapphire stare to Laren, her voice soft and barely audible over the buzz of the café.

“This doesn’t leave this room.”

Laren sat forward, his interest peaked at her sudden seriousness. “I’m listening.”

Merilay sighed. “Originally we thought we were here for a protection contract. Standard fare plus bonuses, room and board while escorting the rare private transport in and out of the system. Nothing out of place.”

Gron snorted. “Boy were we karkin’ surprised, eh?”

Merilay nodded hesitantly. “You could say that.”

“So what in the hells happened?”

“If you let me finish, Blue, I’ll tell you,” Merilay responded, directing a finger and her scolding tone toward the unsuspecting Aedile. Laren raised his hands in mock surrender before returning his focus to listening.

“Everything changed. Honestly, you probably won’t even think it’s true.”

“Listen, you both agreed to tell me what’s what in that little exchange you had a minute ago with your eyeholes. Now tell me what’s going on.”

Merilay sighed. “As I said, you’d never believe me if I told you that I was hired by the Inquisitorius, but it’s true and I can prove it.”

Laren’s golden eyes widened as he sat back in shock. His hand almost darted to his blaster, but instead he maintained his composure and kept his hands folded neatly on his lap. He looked between Gron and Merilay, hoping to see some semblance of dishonesty, some sign among the two that they were trying to lie to Laren. The seconds passed into a full minute, but he finally accepted that they were not trying to lie to him. Just like they had managed during his escape from Mandalore all of those years ago, they were telling the cold, hard truth.

“How the hells do you know it was the Inquisitorius?” Laren finally managed in a low whisper.

Gron leaned forward. “Some of those folk aren’t exactly subtle. Nay for this one, too. He had the armor and everything.”

Merilay nodded her agreement, continuing, “It’s true, Laren. The man wasn’t messing around. I would know him anywhere if I saw him.”

“What does he look like?” Laren demanded, his voice still a whisper, but forceful all the same.

“I couldn’t forget him if I tried. Human man, handsome face from the mask up. But those eyes,” Merilay breathed. “Green as those fields to the north of the city, and an Inner Rim accent that makes you melt.”

Arden, Laren thought with a start, ignoring Merilay’s transparent attraction to the curious Inquisitor. Laren had always known the man was highly regarded among the Inquisitors, but he had supposed his loyalty was to Clan first. What could the man be playing at by working for them now?

“So what’s the job?”

“A lot of creds job this is.” Gron had a knack for providing comments that didn’t help the conversation progress. But for all of his unique or annoying quirks, he was a stellar pilot and a dangerous marksman that could match some of the best shot-for-shot. Laren had once seen Gron pick up a blaster rifle he had never used before and hit a target at over half a kilometre.

“This is where it gets interesting,” Merilay said, sitting forward in her chair and leaning forward on the table. “For now, we’re just running cargo out of that asteroid of yours – what’s it called?”

“The Circle.”

“Right, the Circle,” she said with a snap of her fingers. “Anyway, we’re running cargo out of there for this contact about once an Alisian week. Standard fare, right? But we’re also on retainer for this.” She patted a pocket on her snug jacket. Laren could barely make out the outline of a rectangular device he was sure was a datapad. “We’ve been given a list of targets here on Aliso that, if things go south, we’re supposed to take out. People, infrastructure, you name it. Even gives an order of precedence.”

“You were right to tell me about this, Meri,” Laren managed after a moment, sitting back against the wall once more. “And if I hadn’t known who you spoke of, you’re right, I wouldn’t have believed you.”

“Laren – Laren, there’s more.” Merilay looked down at her hands, fumbling with her fingers in her lap. She seemed too scared to continue.

“You’re on the list, my boy,” Gron grunted before Merilay could summon her courage. “You’re one of them targets.”

He froze, golden eyes locked with Gron’s beady brown. This time his hand did dart for the blaster at his hip, but he did nothing more than rest it on the grip of the weapon. The two across from him made no move for their own hidden arms. The guilt they felt was obvious in their expressions, due to their past history together.

“What honor is there among our kind?” He looked between Merilay and Gron. “We sell ourselves and our blasters for some creds, killing and looting along the way. I mean, I appreciate you letting me know, though, so don’t feel so bad. I’m a bit flattered, actually.”

“You’re flattered?”

Laren laughed. “Absolutely! I’ve been among these Sith for over a bloody year. If I’m on some hit list of theirs, it must mean I’m doing something right. Who knew a little time acting half obedient could do such wonders?”

“Listen, Blue. You’ve always been a bit self-absorbed in your work, but this is insane. I guarantee we aren’t the only mercs who have been offered this contract.”

“But you were wise enough to accept the terms, which is good. He would have killed you otherwise. And you were also kind enough to warn me of his plans. Once again, Meri, you made the right call by telling me. Now if I could pass along my own tidbit of information?”

Merilay and Gron both nodded.

“Get the hell off Aliso. Get on your ship and set your course for the furthest system you can think of and do not look back.”

“But we accepted the contract, we can’t just –“

“Meri, I can’t say much, but just know that your instincts are right. This is no normal proposal, and this is no normal situation. Did you notice anything off since you’ve been in the city? Something just at the corner of your eye that you can’t quite shake.”

“Aye, me certainly did,” Gron said, sounding much more lucid than before despite his odd speech.

“The people. They seem hesitant. Some of them even seem more scared than usual.”

“It’s because they can feel it, Meri. War is coming. The Sith are seldom seen outside of the Pinnacle anymore, and for good reason. Battle lines are being drawn as we speak, and you’ve just been roped into a conflict that will span the entirety of the stars themselves. Please… run while you still can.”

“Listen, Blue, we don’t run or abandon jobs.” Meri eyed Laren fiercely, but he ignored it.

“This isn’t Mandalore, Meri!” Laren said, more exasperated than before. “This is Aliso, home of an entire clan of half-mad Sith bent on galactic domination – and this is just one clan. Unlike me, you’re not in too deep to simply make yourself scarce. Just this once, Meri, you have to trust someone other than yourself. Get out while you still can, and don’t look back.”

Merilay and Gron took Laren’s advice. Soon after their hushed conversation, they left the Landsdown Café and headed for their ship. Laren followed them the whole way, acting as an unofficial escort of sorts, scanning the crowd for any signs that they were being followed or targeted. Once they reached their ship, one of the older type Corellian freighters Laren so despised, he bid his old friends farewell. Watching their ship arc gracefully into the cloudy Alisian sky, Laren turned and strode away from the landing pad, his head filled with thoughts of Arden Karn di Plagia, and betrayal.