Fiction Gallery

After making sure no one was watching, Arden turned and glared at his rifle.

"Allright you Blastech piece of bantha turd, listen up. I've been tuning your optics, realigning your barrel, and calibrating your focusing crystal for ten hours now and you're still pulling a millimeter and a half to the right. I can't have you pulling that crap when I line up my shot on Pravus as that much pull could kriff the whole thing right. By the time we get to Antei you better be shooting perfectly straight or you're going to be a puddle of slag. You get me?"

Staring through the scope Waiting for the right time to strike Hidden, I will watch

The end comes very soon But I do not concern myself Death, inevitable

In the wake of the death of Telona, Clan Arcona turned over the betrayer, Wuntilla. He was given to both Plagueis and Tarentum torture units, so that they could discover the true intentions behind the death of Telona. Wuntilla was strong and lasted a long time under the various torture methods of the two Clans, but they would not give up until he broke. Meanwhile the combined forces of Tarentum and Plagueis were faced with the full wrath of the Iron Legion. They overestimated their own abilities, while Pravus’ forces began to beat them back across the planet of Antei. They would remember just how powerful Pravus was, and just how foolish it was to face him in battle.

My blade, Abadeer thought, turning his saber over in his hand, it burns and cauterizes. An almost effortless kill, no resistance. Only death. Plunging this weapon through the heart of my enemies is almost too easy, watching the life drain from their eyes, or the lifeless corpse crumple to the ground. Abadeer turned blade on, letting the violet light bathe his skin, the gentle hum beguiling it’s true deadly purpose. Pravus has made his final mistake, and he shall feel my wrath. Abadeer struck out with a flick of his wrist, cutting a nearby ornament he’d collected, the clean stroke taking off the head of the humanoid figurine. The Togruta quickly deactivated, twirled, then stored his saber hilt in it’s proper place on his hip. The confident Sith strode quickly down the halls, towards his destiny, whatever that may hold.

I run through the woods My prey is stumbling down Right before he cries

There wasn’t even pain Just the cold feeling of dread As I looked down and realized I was dead The blade through my heart Twas a dark surprise I fell to the ground as life left my eyes

Ooh I smell their sweat, Taste and hear their pumping blood. Teeth long to bite deep!

The burning of guts, Both physical and mental, Our mission betrayed.

Rise and fight, Arconas now out Fight for pain and glory! We’ll win the day, tomorrow is ours If we just stand together! The Lady is here, to lead the way with her we cannot lose!

Abadeer strode into the interrogation room, the lights were dim and only a cold sense of dread could be felt in the room. In the center of the room sat the monstrous azure man, Wuntilla, The Dragon. Four robed and hooded men sat in each corners of the room, putting their full focus on to the man in the chair, cutting off his connection to the Force entirely. Taasii had never performed any amount of interrogation, even though he’d been the Battle Team Leader of Plagueis’ premier house of information. The combined forces of Tarentum and Plagueis had been constantly spending shifts trying to break the man who sat before them. Abadeer wasn’t the only person in the room questioning the man before them. Wuntilla began screaming, wrestling against his restraints, but he had no chance of breaking free. Taasii strode over slowly to Wuntilla, pulled back his arm and punched the man in the gut. The screaming ceased instantly, turning into labored gasps for air. “You will tell us who put you up to killing Telona. You will talk.” Abadeer said, while trying to be as menacing as he possibly could be. He stared down at the panting figure before him, waiting for the man to recover. Suddenly the man whipped his head up and spat in Abadeer’s face. Taasii wiped the blood laced spit from his face calmly, and walked back towards the door. He opened and said “Bring in the torture droid.”

Atty: When I say "Arcona", you say "Invictus"! Atty: Arcona! Clan: INVICTUS! Atty: Arcona! Clan: INVICTUS! Atty: We are the Shadesworn! Clan: AND YOU WILL FEAR US!

Behold, I, Shadesworn. Senses forced to betray you. As your death is born.

A murder most foul. This betrayal unforeseen. I'm slain with a scowl.

My vibroswords will be his undoing. They are my weapons. Without me, they are useless. Nothing can stand between me and my goal. My blades will leave a trail of blood to his end.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1qd5LtRHuamZ4XrRqScwmGL85sHc-6tl-Wc8SMmfFs-0/edit?usp=drive_web

We’re Arcona, we’re true blue We’re Arcona through and through We’re the best clan, so they say Tried to go to heaven but we went the other way!

We went down! Down! Down! Down!

And then you keep chanting down until we’re done going down.

Assembled on the flight deck of the Nighthawk, Mateus stared around at the motley crew of assembled warriors. Galeres’finest killers, these were his brothers in arms now. All of them had one purpose, no matter where they came from: to slay the enemies of the Shadow Clan. “A lightsaber is the best killing weapon in the Galaxy, as far as I care. I’ve used blasters for years. I’ve used beskad blades for years too. But nothing cuts like a saber, stops blood flow like a saber. No mess other than body parts,”the Mandalorian said as he tossed his saber hilt through the air.

Catching it, the Mandalorian warrior snarled quietly. “Pravus might see us all coming, even when we surround him, but he won’t feel anything after that last moment when I put a sun through his heart.”

Thrill. Heart beat. Closer. Every step, hunting down prey. Blood will flow freely.

Allegiance, to shade. His blade, a vicious dragon. I barely knew him.

I first picked up my DC-17 during my time as a slave. It was the first thing I ever owned once I escaped. It doesn't complain when I kill, it doesn't scream when I escape, it doesn't question my motives or examine my methods. What would be more fitting, then, than to kill a man who isn't reliable; to kill a man that questions all, trusts nothing, and hoards power at the expense of others? This weapon is my life, and my life will end his.

The Triumvirate Plot was an attempted uprising against the reigning Grand Master of the Brotherhood, Darth Pravus, in the latter half of 34 ABY. The plot was initiated by the leaders of Clans Arcona, Tarentum, and Plagueis in response to various events or attacks ordered or supported by the Grand Master. The Plot was considered to be a military success, as the combined armies of the three clans defeated the forces of the Iron Throne in a close victory. However, the Plot was unsuccessful in removing Darth Pravus from power, as the Clans had been weakened to a point where they couldn't challenge the Grand Master and his remaining forces without facing their own destruction.

"This? This here is a .48-caliber Enforcer pistol, packs enough punch to blow your head clear off. The Jedi are so used to deflecting blaster fire that this little baby often takes them by surprise. Can't bounce back a bullet, y'know. Pravus? Can this thing kill Pravus? Well sure. Pravus' no god, even if he thinks he's one. But nah. I'm not getting paid enough to take down the big boss. I'll leave Pravus for the Jedi to deal with. No, this baby's for taking down whatever target the Inquisitorius- or Arcona- point me toward. If it came down to picking which side I'll have to stick with, I'll probably stick with Pravus. Boss' nuts, but pays well. And if he's taken down, easy enough to slip away in all the inevitable chaos. The Jedi and Resistance got bigger game to go after than some grubby merc. No matter where I go, though, this gun’s staying with me. "

"I'll draw you, my Ryyk Blade, and you'll slam Pravus in the face, right before piercing his darkened heart. You've served me well when facing my enemies, now we'll face an enemy of us all. Let his poisened blood flow! Let his screams echo for years to come! You, my Ryyk Blade will end his reign."

Wuntila smiled at the one way mirror. I knew that he knew I was watching. Time to march in.

"I'm Ranarr Kul" I stated, "and I have some questions for you. ... And you are?"

"Don't play games" he stated in an uneven, unemotional way, "you know who I am."

I seductively smiled, as I fixated my dark green eyes directly upon him. He quickly fidgeted and involuntarily averted his own eyes away. I knew right then he began to sense my strength and feel the fear and he didn't know why.

"…And?" I casually replied with an even more alluring smile, careful not to show my teeth. It was then I detected beads of perspiration that had begun to condense on his forehead.

As Wuntila just sat there, not replying to my questions he could begin to detect a slight scent of my anger that now mixed with his scent of fear.

"You know we have evidence of you killing Telona! You didn't handle for yourself! Who ordered the hit?!"

Suddenly, the door swung open and in walked some confident and cocky young Sith, Tahiri Drakon Night-Thorn. "Let the fun begin!" she grinned as she called upon the Force to put some pressure around Wuntila's neck. "Who ordered the hit?" I aked again.

"No! He'd kill me."

"What do you think I'll do?" grinned Tahiri while she tightened her grip.

"Was it Pravus?" I growled. Tahiri tightened her grip even more. "Was it..."

"YES! It was Pravus... "

We are the shadow in the dark, the obscurity in the blackness. Illumination is a lie. Fight and be prepared to die!

I don't feel a thing Anger left me long ago No fear or regret

An enemy made A friend has come to aid us Together we stand

We move for vengeance We keep stalking our pray Together we hunt

With caution we move With anger but also with fear Together we stand

“The report is damaged my Lady.” The Soldier trembled before Atyiru, uncertainty laced every word.

“It matters little, play the audio, I wish to hear.” She sat upon the throne and reclined back knowing this would be grim, knowing what Nath was capable of. Interference rang within the chamber and eventually the audio began.

“It’s been awhile.” Nath’s voice was the first to speak.

“I see you’ve grown a bit since last we met.”Wuntilla spoke much more calmly than she, her voice had been laced with anticipation. A ringing sound of a blow reverberated through and silence descended.

“Why did you kill her?” There was a resonating sound of joints being popped, the Iridonian gearing up for more physical violence no doubt. More interference boomed through the audio, whatever occurred next only Nath could tell, the Consul made a note to summon her regarding it.

“No need to get excitable Iridonian, I killed her because I was ordered to do so, the fact that she intended to unite the three Clans under one rule was just a bonus for doing the dirty work.” The Battlelord seemed unphased by the Krath’s violent outburst.

“Enough.” Atyiru commanded. “Where is Wuntilla now?”

“They remain enroute my Lady, they have already requested for urgent medical aid and Nath Agrona has departed them.”

“Ensure he survives, and find the Iridonian.” She dismissed the Grunt with a wave of her hand, the chamber descending into silence as she was left to her musings.

The beat hastens now. Faster, we sprint to our goal fearless to the end

Nath sat hunched over, her hands clenching and relaxing slowly.

She had decided.

There was a certain satisfaction in killing things with your bare hands, watching slowly as the life drained away. The emotions and stages could be observed, in those moments you saw who you were really killing.

She wanted to see whom she loathed and whom wanted so passionately to see her family’s extinction.

I am unclear if this requires a regular stanza poem or a haiku, I have provided both, with the stanza poem being my submission if the bit about a haiku wasn't making it required.

Haiku: Cold fire within Betrayer looms in shadows Wrath not yet sated

Regular Stanza Poem: It should have been expected, to trust and be betrayed I should have seen it coming, but my mind was far too pained. The selfish Dragon did as needed, for Arcona to be saved, I understand but don't forgive, Krath's vengeance must be sated.

Today everyone forgets how useful a dagger is. Easy to use, easy to hide. It doesn't make noise like a light saber and can make an unexpected move.

He sat in his quarters staring at nothing, slowly turning the bottle in his hands. He felt the rises in the glass that gave various information about volume and alcoholic ratio. Ridges ran around the base ostensibly to give the bottle style and make it more difficult to slide across flat surfaces in an effort to avoid tragedies. To say Bleu had destroyed bottles much like this many times in the past was an understatement, he'd both started and ended fights with them. "Kill tha Grandmaster, sure," he muttered as he popped the top of it off and proceeded to drink. Only person he was likely to hurt in a fight like this was himself.

Instead of immediately marshaling forces to assault the Iron Throne while several of its fleets were out razing other Clan's homeworlds in a fit of paranoid insanity, the alliance decided to plot. This included such things as coming up with battle songs and brooding over how the various members would try and kill the man in the chair. Also investigations on why the so-called 'Dragon of Selen' would murder a member of an allied clan in cold blood on the orders of a mere mercenary. The result of this delay would be later apparent when the full naval might of the Grandmaster's fleets were arrayed against them, the punishment for dilly dallying.

Manually added by Savant Darkblade

An ancient tether snapped. An alliance, easily unmade. And all in the space of time As the flash of a hand grenade.

We stumble 'pon the dark abyss In a sea of turmoil and dark. Our Consuls seek the mend us With words we must now hark.

A new alliance, forged again With bonds yet tighter still. A plan to kill tyrant Pravus ....but who then his boots will fill?

Tan-grey fingers glided over an array of digital button, entering various codes and commands into the control panel. Dark amber eyes darted up to focus on a small group of three moving silently within one of the top most floors of Level Delta, Phantom Complex. Zujenia watched as Edraven signaled to the pale figure of Bol’era and the hulking red Kaleesh a few meters ahead of the Umbaran.

A chime forewarned the Half-Ryn of the incoming holo-call before the blue light filled the room. The face was easily recognizable, the newly elected Voice and former Gate Keeper, Marick Arconae.

“ Zujenia, how goes the training? “

“The team will be prepared for any evacuation missions if needed. With Galeres’ aid in the battlefield--”

“ Zujenia, I was talking about yours. Are you prepared? “

The Gate Warden bit the inside of her cheek, her mind escaping her. She couldn't ignore the tightening sensation in her gut. Was she good enough to lead the battle team successfully against the forces of the Grand Master? Port Ol’val is one thing, Pravus is another. Who’s fate is she signing off on? A taste of copper drew her back to the Holo-Hapan, a faint downturn of the corner of his mouth was the only sign of his concern.

“I will do all that is in my power to not only succeed, but to ensure each member returns home safely.” Zujenia replied, amber eyes burning with determination

Tra'an Reith limped out of the hallway, making his way towards the surface of the Dark Hall. Easing around a collapsed pillar, he slowly made his way for the dimly lit glow of the surface. His right arm cradled to his chest, barely able to hold itself in place from the damage he had sustained fighting the assassin, the ghost, that was Darth Necren.

The sadistic bitch was still out there, hunting him. He had gotten lucky in her last rush to finish him, and scored a strike across her right knee with his lightsaber. He only had one arm, but she was having trouble moving. It seemed fair to him since she had almost killed him from behind the first time.

He emerged into the dusty light of the surface of Antei, and blinked. There before him, perched on a pillar, was the she beast herself, Having discarded her robe at the start of the fight, she stood tall and regal, the cut on her leg from his sapphire blade having been healed enough to restore her mobility,

Against the background of a dusty, setting sun, it was an imposing sight that caused him to laugh.

"Really? Now, after all this, you try and intimidate me? Come finish the fight you bitch!" He barked at her. The return look she gave him was impassive, almost introspective, before she leaped at him, lightsaber swung behind her to ensure maximum power on the strike, Tra'an drew his disruptor and waited, knowing that timing would be crucial.

He partially depressed the trigger as she closed the distance, landing only a few meters in front of him. As she charged, he lifted the pistol just enough to fire into the ground she was advancing on, the blast forcing her to dodge aside to avoid it. He did it again, and again, forcing her into a pattern. The fourth time he feinted, and when she jumped, he did too,

Closing within her striking distance surprised her, and even as she pivoted to bring her lightsaber to bear, he slammed into her. As they tumbled down, he placed the disruptor between them, barrel nestled into their stomachs and pulled the trigger.

Fallen from favor, and their Orders dishonored, A bargain struck, a friendship earned, Krath of the Clan of Death, and an Obelisk of her Arconae ally, Beware of those wearing a mask, Brotherhood be wary.

Sister clans together in turmoil, assisting but untrusting, Grand Masters’ orders, the Undesirables’ cleansing, Betrayal by the hand of a friend, fallen is the magic forever mourned, Iron throne upheld by blood, the friendship of sister clans be torn.