Fiction Gallery

The rain poured down in the dark alleyway that our triumphant hero was passed out in. It took a flash of lightning and a earth shaking clap of thunder to awaken the slumbering Sith.

As Kano sat up he stretched and let out a loud yawn. Raindrops softly hit the man's face as he looked up at the sky.

“What the frak am in doing in an alley?”

As Kano climbed to his feet a rat ran across the alley, splashing through a large puddle.

“To, writer dude. I asked you a question. What the hell am I doing in an alley? How did I get here? The reader will wanna know.”

[You were drunk and you passed out. Not much more to it. Now can I get back to writing this fiction?]

“Oh, yeah. Didn't mean to inconvenience you. Douchebag.”

Kano, now shooting a bird into the sky walked down the alley thinking out loud.

“How do you think out loud? Isn't that just talking?”

[Dude, stop interrupting. Let's just get this fiction going so that we can get something shiny.]

“Shiny? I'm down. Proceed mystic voice in my head.”

The Warrior turned out of the alley and onto the main street. Thoughts of riches bounced through the former Mandalorians head.

“Where can a Sith bounty hunter get come credits around here?”

At that moment, almost as if by divine planning, a piece of paper smacked into Kano’s face. He pulled the paper back and crumbled it up.

[Read the paper.]

“You can't tell me what to do!”

Kano uncrumpled the paper and read it.

“How the hell did you do that? Who trained you in Jedi mind tricks?”

[Shut up and finish reading the paper.]

Kano finished reading over the paper and was relieved to find that it was a wanted poster for a local drunk. According to the paper the man had borrowed a large sum of money from a local gangster and when he couldn't pay him back a hit was put out on him.

“What are the chances that this kinda info would be placed in a piece of paper and then just tossed out for anyone to find? It is a good thing that an idiot isn't writing my life story.”

Luckily the Warrior knew just where to find this local drunk. He turned around and went right back down the same alley he had just awoken in. He walked up to a door that looked as if someone had vomited against it and he proceeded to pound on the door as hard as he could.

After a few hard knocks the door opened and a head poked out from inside. “You again? You are banned after that crap you last night with the Rancor tooth and high explosives.”

Kano looked up away from the guy at the door.

“Are you still not going to explain the night before? That sounds fun and I really wanna know where I got a Rancor tooth in the first place.”

[No! Now pay attention.]

“You suck.”

Kano turned back towards the guy at the door to see a puzzled look on his face.

“Sorry, I was thinking out loud. I just need to know if Fez is in there, I owe him money and need to pay him back before heading to the Outer Rim.”

The Sith reached down inside himself and with a slight mental nudge from the Force the man nodded and stepped back into the building.

“Hey writer guy, I have a question.”

[What now?]

“Do I really gotta kill this guy? He just wanted to party a little. I mean wouldn't you take out a loan you couldn't pay back to tongue mop liquors off the sexiest women in this galaxy?”

[You leave my personal life out of this and stick to the story. We are almost done so you know what, just wing it.]

At that moment the door opened up and a large man came walking out. The smell of alcohol seeped out of every pour on the man's body and filled the air. The man looked Kano over for a second before opening his mouth. “Are you the chakaar that is looking for me?”

Kano leaned real close to the man and whispered to him.

“There is a voice in my head telling me to kill you but it is okay, he is a moron.”

Kano winked at the guy just before the man swung a quick right jab towards the Warriors face. The fist connected with an invisible barrier as Kano drew out his lightsaber.

The blade sprang to life with a brilliant blue glow and with a single motion Kano drove the blade upwards and through the bounty. The man was split from crotch to hair and fell into two separate parts.

“I wonder if I get paid double for that?”

[Sure, just tell the gangster that if he won't pay double you will do the same to him.]

“Really? I can do that?”

[No, the fiction is over. You probably annoyed the reader so much we won't even get a prize.]

“Ah sh…”

The End

“Lier!”

Stepping Down and Integration

In 38 ABY, relations between Maelous and House Quaestor Sanguinius Entar had deteriorated greatly. After much consideration Maelous decided that two years of summit service was more than enough, and stepped down as House Marka Ragnos’ Aedile, to pursue his own endeavors. He quickly left Tarthos behind and traveled to Sepros.

Mealous spent the next few months researching in the libraries in the Temple of Sorrow. Anything that he could find of any use to further his power and legacy he devoured with the veracity only a Sith could understand. His research focused primarily on gaining a deeper understanding of Force Alchemy, relics, and Dark Side sites. He studied what he could of the temples left behind by the ancient Sith Lords, the ideas of creating a Holocron, the different varieties of crystals used in a lightsaber.

Having lost his legs in the recent conflict with the Dominion, he also began research into cybernetics. He looked into experimental technology as well as imbuing them with Force power through the use of alchemy. The research has been inconclusive though he still looks for the most reliable and advantageous design.

Maelous eventually returned to Tarthos. Using House and Clan resources he requisitioned an out of use research facility in Kar Alabrek. The Sith had large amounts of equipment brought in as well any materials that would be need to continue his studies. Researched progressed slowly due continued interruptions from military and science officials checking in on the Battlemaster. After almost killing a low ranking officer in a fit of rage after one of these interruptions Maelous decided that he needed a place of his own.

The Site

After some additional research and long nights of meditation in the Force Maelous was led to Terra Do Gelo. He was able to locate a cave system within the mountains of the frozen wasteland with a large enough opening to land a small transport vessel. Maelous spent several standard weeks exploring the cave system and using his holopad to map out the system. He noticed that there were some small “flares” of Force energy that he indicated the site could be turned into something magnificent.

During his exploration he began to feel a pull toward Jade Sadow through the Force Bond. Maelous felt that she was in extreme danger and became aware of her physical pain. He immediately left the site and returned to his transport vessel. Using the Force he began to direct the pilot and set out on a mission to rescue the Cathar. Return to Study

After rescuing Jade, Maelous returned to Sepros to leave her with a medical staff that could properly tend her wounds. After promising to return for her before he set out for his expedition he began to do more in depth research into the temples on Korriban, Thule, Dromund Kaas, as well as other sites. During his research he received a message from the former Grand Master of the Brotherhood requesting his presence in Kar Alabrek. Not wanting to miss the great opportunity he sent a message informing Jade of his departure and left immediately for Tarthos.

Mactire stood in the reception hall looking at all the faces of everyone entering the building. He studied them in anticipation of the big day for two of his comrades in arms. Tasha, and Bentre. This was the day before their wedding and it couldn’t have been any better of a day. It was a simple day of peace, for once in Naga Sadows history, this day was going well. The human leaned against the wall looking up at the ceiling watching the lights flicker as people danced on the floor laughing and having fun. Atra was singing a random song and butchering it, with his usual don’t give a care attitude.

“Mac? Wow you came. Didn’t think you would.” A blue Twi’lek said appearing right in front of him.

There was a holorecorder in her hand and she was smiling as her eyes sparkled and lit up with joy at seeing all her friends together under one roof not trying to kill each other. She’s wearing a silver dress, and looks like one of the Twi’lek goddess form ancient legends.

“You look amazing Tasha. How’s Bentre doing?” I say turning my eyes and looking back into the crowd.

“He’s good. I was actually wondering if you have any words of wisdom for us in the future since I know somethings of your past.” She says with a slight sorrow in her voice.

“Yeah I do. Be happy, be well. Treat each other with respect and always talk things out, don’t hold things in. It never works out when you try to figure things out yourself in a marriage. There are two of you together for a reason.” I say slowly drifting off into the past.

“O.K. Thanks Mac, enjoy the party and see you tomorrow at the ceremony.” She says smiling running off to interview others for their opinions.

I slowly lean off the wall and start to walk down the hallway, away from the reception area. Clearing my head in these matters always helps me focus on things that truly matter to me. Also I really don’t like crowds much but I never will tell anyone I work with that. The mission always comes first. Always has and always will.

I stop and look up at the vast sky and wonder what the real meaning behind everything is. The stars twinkle slightly as the laughter and music becomes louder and more sounds of joy dance down the station.

“Everyone is enjoying the party it seems.” I mutter to myself.

I slowly turn and start to head back towards everyone. The walls with their shadows slowly seem to move against my movements. As if they are teaming with a life of their own. I slowly move my hand to my Armory Saber and keep walking slowly staying on high alert. The hairs on the back of my neck slowly start to stand up as a creature leaps out of the shadows. I leap back and dodge their attack. I hear a faint laugh coming from behind a mask. I growl low looking at my opponent.

“Who in the Sith Lords names are you?” I say in a low demanding voice.

“Oh Mactire you are so easy to rile up.” A female voice says as the mask comes off.

Qyreia stands there laughing. Her red skin looks like a larenks eye. Her eyes are the color of cold steel which contrast her black hair. I shake my head, only a Zeltron would do this at a wedding. Well only Qyreia would.

“Thanks for the reminder of why I’m always on guard.” I mutter and focus for a minute.

She looks at me quizingly and then falls to the floor as if an unseen force has just tripped her. Her hands slowly go for her blaster and I shake my head looking at her.

“Don’t you did deserve that and you know it.” I say walking away back towards the crowd

When I enter Bentre is standing in the center of the room holding Tasha in his arms dancing slowly with each other. I sigh and smile lightly in the knowledge that these two will be happy together. Qyreia walks in muttering to herself and walks past me and heads towards Atra laughing as he is still singing poorly and everyone is still having fun.

This is a party for now I think but tomorrow old wounds will reopen and then we will all be back ware we started. Oh well for now it is a blessing.

It had only been five minutes, or so it seemed to him. that he had been enlisted into the ranks of the Inquisitorius, and already there were ructions. Every time he thought he had a grasp on the Brotherhood it sent him another curved ball. Sat at his new desk he attempted to take in all the details that the message in front of him had spelled out. A traitor within the ranks. Not only that, he had been tasked to find out the who, why, when and where. He still couldn’t quite grasp why he had been selected for this mission, or by whom as it was unsigned, but he felt that it had something to do with Tasha’Vel, his Master, and her husband, Bentre Stahoes.

Quo rose from the desk, and destroyed the glassfilm that the message had been delivered on, grinding it to dust with the heel of his prosthetic hand. It left a gouge on the polished surface, a reminder of his first day on the job. Any traitor would have to have access to the files of the Inquisitorius, and the communications system presumably, and this was where he would start. As he strode away he exuded the look of a man on their way to somewhere for a definate reason, not a man who was taking his first steps in his first investigation. No sign of hesitation was evident.

Down in the bowels of the Supreme Hall of The Inquistiorius Quo found the archives, with plenty of consoles for his investigations of the Inquisitorius’ systems. He wasn’t the greatest slicer, but he could get into the system without having to log on and leave a trace. Going into the sub-systems he was amazed at the amount of communications traffic that was there. There had to be a way to narrow the search. He accessed the logs for encrypted communications, two thousand one hundred and eighty seven. Ok, within the last month, seventeen. Scanning down the list there were only three that came from the same originator, but it couldn’t be, Tasha’Vel Versea. He wouldn’t believe that his own Master was a traitor, there had to be another answer. Selecting the the three messages from her he tried to make out who the messages were sent to, but that was encrypted as well. Searching through the message he attempted to decrypt the message, or at least the recipient.

Saving copies of the messages to his own storage device he would try to break the code on his own console back at the Halls of Residence.

Quo searched again, this time for any files that had been modified or deleted from the system, and again found three that had been recently deleted, all of them within the last eight days, and two of them connected to his own dossier. What the fleg was going on here? Why would anybody be interested in his file? He was a low ranking member of the Society, he didn’t have any access to anything important, he was a complete novice in the Inquisitorius.

Copying the files to the same storage device Quo rose and took his leave of the Archive. Heading away from the home of the secret society, he headed back to his own accomodations, needing the solitude to make an assessment of the circumstantial evidence that he had gathered. Accessing his personal console he loaded the encrypted messages. He selected a program from the drop down list, and attempted to infiltrate the encryption. He had encrypted messages from Tasha’Vel on his communications window, he could use a couple of them to give his program a grasp on her encryption methods. He inputted the messages, and set the program onto the task of cracking it.

With that in hand Quo turned his attentions to the files that had been modified. There was nothing interesting to anyone in the files, only Quo’s dossier, an assessment of his training, and the notifications of his commendations. Quo’s face was contorted in both frustration and confusion. Nothing in here had the slightest bit of import to the Brotherhood, and the files contained no secrets that anyone outside it would be vaguely interested in. What was going on here?

Quo let the computer carry out its computations, managing to grab a couple of hours sleep before he was awoken by an insistant beeping. He made his way over to his console. The program had done it’s work, to a fashion. It had managed to decrypt the addresses of the recipients, and they read like a list of the great and powerful of the Brotherhood. The Master at Arms, the Consul of Clan Naga Sadow, the Proconsul, Bentre Stahoes, Tasha’Vel’s husband, along with a few other names that were well known to all Dark Jedi. Quo couldn’t believe that all these people were traitors. Another beep from the console told him that another part of the messages had been decrypted.

Reading from the screen before him, ”...and it will take place at the Sadow Palace on Sepros, . He must be in attendance before the action can be taken....................satisfied until the task is completed”, and it was signed by his Master. It sounded like an assassination attempt, but on who?

Quo rose, his intention to go to his ship, the Eenzaam, in order to face his Master, and put an end to this one way or another. A knock at the door. Approaching and opening it he was faced by his Master. Without warning four strikes to his pressure points were all that she needed to render him temporarily immobile, a hoodwink applied to his head. So this was how it ended he thought. How far away from the truth he was, and how he had been played by those who cared for him came as a shock. He had thought that he was alone, insignificant, however the extract from Tasha’Vel’s journal, gave the full story. Quo was finally in a place to call home, with people who cared and respected him Journal entry - Tasha’Vel Versea 13/02 38ABY

The time had finally come and Tasha had arranged the events. Sneaking away down the many corridors and hallways, she had arrived to her apprentice's room. Knocking on the door, she waited till it opened. With the Force guiding her motions, her palms and elbows quickly struck the vital points on the figure blocking the doorway, rendering him momentarily stunned as she quickly blindfolded him, and began to guide him down the halls.

"Do not speak and just follow me," she whispered. Even though her apprentice was gifted in the Force, he stumbled behind her, unsure of himself.

As he reached out with his senses, all he heard were his master's footsteps and his own. Everything else seemed to come through a thick veil, hiding anything else from his senses. As they entered what felt like a giant hall, a voice boomed through the air.

"On your knees Sith!" The command came from a voice he couldn’t quite place. Struggling slightly, he was quickly forced to his knees by his Master as she spoke in a stern tone. "Quo-Wing-Tzun you stand before your elders. Bentre Stahoes, Marcus Kiriyu, Darkblade, and myself.”

“You have proven yourself an ally as well as a worthy adversary here in Clan Naga Sadow. For your efforts, hard work and dedication, we would like to present to you the title Dark Jedi Knight.” Igniting her lightsaber, she maneuvered the crimson blade near Quo’s left ear, and then to his right.

“Rise, my apprentice," she said as she took off the blindfold. “Rise as a Knight of Sadow.” As Quo rose up he could see Marcus, Bentre, Darkblade and Tasha standing in front of him, all wearing ceremonial robes with their faces covered. Around him the other Clansmen were gathered, who erupted in gleeful cheering."Well done, former apprentice, and welcome to the ranks of Knighthood!"

So this was the big cover up, no treachory, no secrets to damage the core of the Order, simply a ruse to get a young initiate to the Society to a place and time to celebrate his promotion to Knighthood. Quo wasn’t one for revelling, or growing attached to people, but the people gathered around him made it very hard not to. The only secrets that were of import were the ones he kept to himself as he looked around the room.

(Tasha’Vel’s journal entry kindly supplied by Tasha’Vel Versea)

So here we are, promoted to the dizzying heights of Dark Jedi Knight, with a totally awesome Master, and looking super fly in black, and what do we get to do? We get to right royally kick butt for the Brotherhood. I know what you are thinking. How come he got to be so awesomely brilliant, whilst I’m just a dweeb with a computer writing a story that may win me fictitious awards and medals? Simple answer, because I deserve to be awesome. Not everybody can be this good looking wearing yellow and black tattoos on their melons, and carry off the horned sex god look, but I make it look easy. But enough about me...... who am I kidding, there can never be enough about me, it’s my favourite subject.

OK, so here’s the gen. My Master, Tasha’Vel Versea, who by the way is hot, is in the hospital with blood clots. I mean that’s pretty serious poodoo right there, but not surprising considering that her heart has to contend with seeing me every day. It must be a tremendous strain on her ticker there, and blood can only move so fast before it starts colliding with itself. I’m not a doctor, but I guess that’s how it all works. Anyhoo, she’s laid up in bed, and not in a good way, so I have to go visit and try and lift her spirits somehow.

So I’m walking up to the hospital, minding my own business when her husband is there. “Hey, Quo, you going up to see her?” he shouts across the pathway.

“Yeah, can’t have her wasting away up there, thinking that world has stopped turning because she’s not in control”

I knew that had done the trick, Bentre even managed a half smile “Ain’t that the truth. C’mon, let’s show willing,” turning away towards the entrance, “I’ll let you tell her though. I wonder if there’s any food up there?” He shot a glance up the glass frontage of the building.

I followed his glance.... what the?..... You know when you see something but your brain won’t register it initially, but eventually it filters through.... a bit like when you first hear you Mum and Dad going at it like a pair of rabbits.... that initial disbelief, then the realisation, then flight into action, such as hiding your head under your pillow with your walkman on full.. well that happens right now to me. There was something crawling across the glass, so high up you could hardly see it, but it was there nonetheless. It was almost indistinguishable from the background, but it was there... and that’s definitely not something that has been said about me.

“What’s that up there?” I asked.

Ben looked up towards where I was indicating “No idea, but I’m sure as hell gonna find out” Drawing his blaster he knelt, steadying his aim, taking a breath in then releasing half of it before squeezing the trigger gently. I heard the ‘Fatoom’ as the crimson bolt arrowed its way upwards towards his target, impacting the torso of the figure above. We couldn’t hear it but the window exploded into thousands of pieces, and the figure began a slow fall from the front of the building. I watched the figure twisting and turning through the air, adopting the aerodynamic properties of a breeze block, as its speed approached terminal velocity, before it smashed, like a free fall washing machine into the pavement below.

“Did the Diplomatic Corps accept your application then?” I quipped, Ben shot me a withering look. We walked over to the mass of tangled wreckage. It looked like the Gods of all Droids had been having a clear out of the workshop, and all the parts left over had been shoved overboard to land outside the hospital. Whatever type of droid it was when it was up on high it was now nothing more than used parts. Do you get scrap value on slightly used droids? I’m sure we could make a few credits from it if we could find all the parts, or we could make the worlds most difficult construction puzzle.

“Assassin droid, and looking at the head this one was relatively new. Somebody went to a lot of trouble for this, but we don’t know who the target was. Maybe we can slice into the memory and find out who it was after, and who sent it.......” Yadda, yadda, yadda.... Ben really did love the sound of his own voice, I couldn’t help it, I just zoned out. A ‘thwack’ round the head meant that Ben had finished before I could regain consciousness, oh well.

“Let’s go see Tasha’Vel, and let the investigation team try and get to the bottom of this” Stahoes turned once more towards the entrance, I guess that I should follow. I don’t like hospitals, but needs must at times, and Tasha’Vel needed saving from Ben’s recounting of the events outside. Sometimes an Apprentice’s work is never done!

Manually added by Prophet James Lucius Entar Arconae

Manually added by Prophet James Lucius Entar Arconae

Manually added by Prophet James Lucius Entar Arconae

Manually added by Prophet James Lucius Entar Arconae

Manually added by Prophet James Lucius Entar Arconae

Manually added by Prophet James Lucius Entar Arconae

Kano sat in his cabin listening to the crackling of the fireplace and the howls of various creatures off in the distance. It was moments like this that the Warrior felt most relaxed. That is why he hated these moments. Relaxation was the enemy. As he began to long for something to break this cycle of boredom a scream rang out from the basement. Kano grinned as he got to his feet and walked to the stairs that led down into the dingy basement.

An even louder scream echoed up the stairwell as Kano stepped off the last step and into the crudely made torture chamber. Kano had a faint hint of giddiness in his voice as he spoke into the darkness, “I thought you would never wake up. I’m glad I was wrong. Now we can have some more fun.”

Kano flicked the lights on in the basement to reveal a naked man hanging upside down from chains. The man let out another scream as Kano walked over to a table covered in bladed weapons and tools.

“Oh, shut it. At Least this time you will see what is causing you the pain.”

With that the Sith picked up a knife with a 7 inch blade. He walked over to the now whimpering man and slowly slid the blades backside along the man's stomach. The cold metal caused the man to squirm as he tried to move away from the inevitable pain he was about to endure.

Kano grinned at the feeble attempt and turned the blade over and slid the razor sharp edge along the man's leg. He started at the heel with the blade just scratching the surface of the skin and pressed harder and harder as the blade made its way up the man's leg and to his thigh. The man pulled, and shaked, and screamed as the knife dug deeper and deeper into his flesh until Kano could feel metal scraping against bone.

A buzzer began to sound with a flashing red light and Kano pulled the blade from the man's leg. He kneeled down, grabbed the man by his hair, then pulled his face up so that he could look into the man's crying eyes.

“Now it is sleepy time again.”

Kano reached back and punched the man in the face. The blow knocked the man unconscious.

The Warrior tossed the blade onto the table and ran up the stairs. As he made his way through the door at the top of the stairs he could hear the familiar voice of his brother at the door.

“Kano, wake up. It is the middle of the afternoon, get your ass outta bed.”

Kano quickly got to the door and flung it open to reveal Fremoc standing there.

“About gorram time. What the hell were you doing? Do you have a woman in here? You getting your freak on?”

Kano grinned, “You could say something like that.”

“Oh, well I didn't mean to interrupt.” said the older brother.

“If you don't mind I would like to get back in there and continue digging in and if things go right I will have a squirter redecoration the room.”

Fremoc cringed as he turned to walk away, “Way too much info bro.”

Kano closed the door and started to walk back towards the basement door. He stopped for a second and listened. Silence filled the air. In the distance a howl echoed through the forest. It was at times like this that Kano felt most relaxed.

Manually added by Prophet James Lucius Entar Arconae

Message to Muz: I may need to tweak some things in this before this goes to my wiki. I want to run it by you to see if you approve. Enjoy! I'm eager to see your feedback as well as get into your writing courses you talked about on the G+!

The months following the invasion of Korriban was a rough time for the young Knight known as Daedric. He struggled from weeks to months trying to comprehend what happened to him while he was in the catacombs of Korriban with a Krath Pontifex messing with his thoughts and memories. As time passed he learned how to deal with the voices that lingered, turning them into fear and then into hate which fueled his determination to grow stronger. His desire to grow was short lived.

Some could call it being at the wrong place at the wrong time, Daedric saw it as a twist of fate. A inner-house conflict broke out while he was on patrol with a local warhost unit near the Marka Ragnos territory. Two powerful Elders battled one another of the ability to perform a rite. One side, you had the former Grandmaster, Grandmaster Muz Ashen Keibatsu; The Lion of Tarthos. On the other was Darth Vexatus; The Oracle’s Apprentice. Both Sons of Sadow, both power Lords of the Sith.

Darth Vexatus was performing a rite in which he believed would bring him power. Grandmaster Ashen, knew different. The rite that was being performed was Force Imprint. A powerful ritual that rips the connection to the Force for a unwilling recipient. The two battled, with Darth Vexatus being able to conjure the ritual in a small nature before Grandmaster Ashen was able to stop it; That’s all it took.

Daedric was hit by the ritual, shredding his connection to the Force. Such a feat rendered him unconscious. A month later he awoke in a bacta tank, near Kar Alabrek. Unsure of what exactly happened he attempted to use the Force to free himself from the tank, but it failed.

After an extended stay in rehabilitation Daedric was released. A void had filled him, and even though he had anger, hate, despair and utterly depressed; None of the emotions gave him power. It wasn’t until one morning when he was in the Academy, training in blaster combat tactics that an opportunity presented itself. A tall muscular being approached him, dressed in armor in which Daedric had never seen before.

He introduced himself as part of the Niphilim, an elite group of warriors whose loyalties lay with Grandmaster Muz Ashen himself. After a quite hefty discussion Daedric agreed to enter the training of the Niphilim. It would be like no other, but what other choice did he have. A powerful elder ripped the force from him, leaving him useless and vulnerable. Though he still had the training of saber combat and battlefield tactics, he felt like a helpless babe lying in a crib.

The day in which he started his training he decided that he no longer had the right to carry the name Daedric, which was given to him upon entering into the Shadow Academy. He decided to revert back to his birth name, Marcinius.

The training of the Niphilim was horrendous. It was nothing that he could have ever imagined walking into it. Day after day of combat, both sword and blaster, followed by intense physical workouts along side constant studying of battlefield tactics. Day after day his body was broken, only to be repaired in bacta tanks over night. He was broken mentally, physically and emotionally. Everything he thought he knew, was gone as the Niphilim tore it from him to rebuild him in there image.

Months of training and he still did not bear the title of Niphilim. He believed that day would never come, and to this day is still hasn’t.

One morning after their vigorous work outs, his training officer approached him stating that he was being reassigned. Feeling angered that he had failed, he lashed out. Quickly being put into his place and scolded by the superior Niphilim. He learned that the only way he can obtain the title Niphilim was to be granted it by Grandmaster Muz Ashen. Therefore he was being reassigned to the Night Hawks of House Marka Ragnos where he can either prove himself, or be killed.

Therefore, Marcinius went to the Night Hawks to prove his worth and loyalty to Grandmaster Muz Ashen and one day, earn the title of Niphilim.

Parties were not Quo-Wing-Tzun’s natural habitat. Looking around the reception for his Master’s nuptials he could see a lot of smiling faces, and more than a few of them were glassy eyed with the excesses of alcohol, or possibly emotion, although he was favouring the former. Quo was watchful, eyeing across the crowds of people, forever on his guard. This was a throng, he estimated some 1000 people were in attendance, with more expected as the night wore on.

The venue itself was bedecked in flora of many hues, ice sculptures depicting both the bride and groom’s emblems, the wolf for Bentre, the dragon for Tasha’Vel. Every person’s dining place had been depicted by beautifully wrought, golden name plates, all adorned with both the crests. Quo had his secreted away in one of his carrying pouches.

Many of the revellers had been dressed in specially designed outfits for the occasion, the extravagance of the some of them being overwhelming to the senses. Most of the men were wearing some form of military uniforms, designating their standing within the Clan, and indeed within the Brotherhood in some cases. Quo, however, had worn the same thing he wore all the time, black. His Master would not have expected anything less. It suited him, and it contained all his weapons, one just never knew when they would be needed.

Making his way around the massive dance floor his eyes took in the sound system that had been installed for the evening, providing and audible backdrop to the celebrations. Currently there was a pianist playing instrumental background music for the post meal lull in exuberances. Quo made his way behind the speakers, checking for anything unusual as he went.

It was as he passed around the back of the towering monoliths of the speakers that his evening took a side step into the bizarre. Passing beneath the cables that powered the mighty speakers one of his horns snagged on it, its razor edged sharpness passing through the insulation, connecting both the negative and positive feeds through Quo’s head. The sudden flash, and subsequent shock, passed through his body making his muscles involuntarily contract, flinging him some thirty meters. His trajectory took him through the side of the temporary structure of the reception venue, depositing his slightly smoking form into the centre of the decorative fountain within the grounds of the Versea family seat. Picking himself up, he favoured the look of a drowned rat, and the water lilies stuck within his tunic did nothing to cement the look he had achieved.

Stepping out of the ornamental fountain, Quo shook himself, water running from him in streams. He made his way back up the slight incline towards the reception area, and the gap in the panel where he exitted the structure, backwards, in a sitting position. Already the repair droids were replacing the panel as he stepped back inside.

Bentre Stahoes was stood waiting for him when he stepped over the threshold. “¨Refreshed much?” He asked the dripping Zabrak. Quo shot him a look that most people would have run a mile from. Bentre chuckled to himself, turning away to rejoin the revelling.

Quo stepped forward, turning to his right, his right arm shooting out to his right from his shoulder. “What the....?” He turned around, circling to his left. His cybernetic implant made a right angle at the elbow joint, his forearm pointing upwards. He shook his head...... his arm was signalling to other travellers which way he was turning..... from state of the art machinery to an indicator in one easy move, could this get any worse?

He moved along the edge of the dance floor, towards the bar area. As he reached the corner and turned to his right his arm indicated his intention, promptly flattening an elderly couple who were dancing the military two step. In their supine position it was now a military excuse me. Quo carried on to the bar, this could become ridiculous, and there was nothing he could do about it here. Reaching the bar he ordered a Screwdriver. There was a curious clattering noise, and a spanner slid along the bar top towards him. A quizzical look crossed Quo’s face, he caught the spanner, and looked questioningly at the Bartender. “I never was any good with machinery,” he shrugged. The withering look Quo shot him made him pour a drink quickly, and send it along the same path as the tool had travelled. Quo downed it in one, slurping the last dregs with his drinking tube. Making his way over to the pianist he sat on the edge of the stool.

“Have you got a license to drive this piano?” he asked

“A...wuh.....the.....erm.......license?” Replied the bemused musician

“Yes, a license,” said Quo with a face like granite, “you can’t drive one alone if you haven’t got one”

“Er..... No,” came the stuttering reply

“Right, move up,” added the Zabrak as he shuffled the player down the stool. Looking at the music sheet propped on the piano’s stand he began tinkling the keys. The resultant sound was akin to a Steinway falling down a flight of stairs. Quo’s face frowned, confused, then the light of realisation dawned on him. Taking a knife from his belt he sliced the bottom part of the sheet from the manuscript. He took it and turned it upside down, his fingers again twiddling the keys, this time a lot more tunefully.

“Sorted.” He said, “Chinese arm, reads from right to left,” as if this was the most logical thing in the world.

Bentros, having watched all this from the bar looked baffled. “I’ll never understand you Quo,” was the only response he could find.

Leaving the piano seat Quo smirked, he made his way left, away from the piano, his arm making the left turn signal as he did so. Bentros found himself raising his own hand, immediately wondering why. That lunatic was catching!!

“Congratulations my Master, and yo u Bentros,” extending his prosthetic arm to the groom. Bentros hesitantly grasped the proffered handshake, unsure if the errant arm was about to fling him across the dance floor. “I must go and get this fixed,” he glanced at his right arm.

Tasha’Vel was watching from behind Bentros’ right shoulder, tears streaming down her face, her shoulders shaking as she laughed. “You sure know how to pick them, love.” Bentros chided her.

“I know darling,” said Tasha’Vel, “but he’s our idiot, and we wouldn’t have him any other way”

“No, you’re right, as always,” he replied, kissing her warmly. A crashing, cries, and a pair of thuds marked Quo’s progress from the room. Turning right towards the family House he almost decapitated a drinks waiter as his prosthesis continued to indicate his progress.

Tasha’Vel needed to pee, badly! And Quo needed more training, in more ways than one!!

Public transport was just one of those things that are difficult to understand for almost every human, and I am talking about the ones that actually lived here. Kryy Vitaan, a young Dark Jedi, hailing from the Dark Jedi Brotherhood, had never seen anything quite like Earth. This world is tiny, where is their military personal? Their towering citadel or command centre? Most of all what was this absurd means of travel?! The bewildered acolyte asked himself and he stepped aboard a long people mover thing with wheels. The concept baffled Kryy, everything remained on the ground, rolling around on wheels. This race is so primitive, why would master send me here? The people mover moved through the streets, Kryy unable to understand why the mode of transport had to follow a road, as opposed to flying over everything and getting to your destination much much faster. He took off his backpack of supplies and sat down in the chair. By God! These chairs are horrible to sit on! Who on Zakuul would want to sit on this? Ignoring the, less than luxurious seating arrangements, Kryy syphoned through his supplies; a rectangular datapad of some sort, rather small to be a datapad he thought to himself quietly. a small plastic card, perhaps a security clearance card. But it had number on the front of it and a black stripe on the back. It had to be a security card of some sort if he had to swipe it. Earth wasn’t all that bad, but Kryy did not understand why the people mover kept stopping and starting and picking up more people. Kryy did not want to pick up more people, it was a stupid concept when you would take such a transport to get somewhere quickly. He grunted, “What on Zakuul is this place master? These Humans are nothing like the ones we know... their ways do not make sense to me. They are backwards, and unnecessary means of transportation means getting people from point A to point B in an invasion would be impossible and slow. Are the inhabitants of this planet not prepared at all?” The bus made it final stop and with everyone hopping off, Kryy followed cautiously. He looked around at all the people and wondered just where they might be going or what their unit classification numbers were. Sitting in a car on the far side of the road, Ryan waited patiently for the crowd to thin so he may see his friend. The tall, red haired acolyte emerged from the madness with Ryan right there to escort him. The poor Jedi wearing a confused and disgusted look on his face as he hopped into the back seat of the car as they headed back to Ryan’s house. “Please tell me I don’t have to go through that again. The ways of your people confuse me, you like to make more difficult for yourselves instead of making it easier...” Kryy protested before finally adding. “Oh... and next time, you’re coming to me...”

Manually added by Prophet Telaris "Mav" Taldrya Cantor

Manually added by Prophet Telaris "Mav" Taldrya Cantor

Manually added by Prophet Telaris "Mav" Taldrya Cantor

Manually added by Prophet Telaris "Mav" Taldrya Cantor

Manually added by Prophet Telaris "Mav" Taldrya Cantor

Manually added by Prophet Telaris "Mav" Taldrya Cantor

Manually added by Prophet Telaris "Mav" Taldrya Cantor

Manually added by Prophet Telaris "Mav" Taldrya Cantor

Manually added by Prophet Telaris "Mav" Taldrya Cantor

Manually added by Prophet Telaris "Mav" Taldrya Cantor