Fiction Gallery

I scanned a freighter, all laden with loot Its engines were struggling, and unarmed to boot I said to me maties, we will take this fine prize Our Steel Shadows will be its demise

Yo-Ho the Shadows come home Run down the freighter and we make it so Yo-Ho the Shadows come home Steel in these Shadows we roam

We ran for the freighter, our engines were hot It turned to escape, but jump it did not An ion blast did cripple its drives We fell soon upon it, with vibro knives

Yo-Ho the Shadows come home Run down the freighter and we make it so Yo-Ho the Shadows come home Steel in these Shadows we roam

We carved up the booty, each got his share And we told the ship's captain, we would treat him fair He kept his mouth shut and we let him go More freighters kept coming down that star road

Yo-Ho the Shadows come home Run down the freighter and we make it so Yo-Ho the Shadows come home Steel in these Shadows we roam

If a dream was had during sleep Creon wrote it in a journal. As within seconds the memories of those experiences are fleeting, and he ponders analyzing them in understanding his own instinctive subconscious psychology or the Force. He does this while eating citrus fruit, the most bitter in the market, and includes the peel. Stretching keeps his body fluid and staves off the stiffness of age slowly by consistent dedication. Each muscle group is addressed with an assured pump of blood to saturate the fibers. He warms up with cardio and pushes recruitment to his core with calisthenics, then showers upon completion. Before breakfast is a concoction comprised of supplements, compiled plant matter compressed into a tar derived from a sacred mountain, and a variety of known herbs and fungi mycelium known to support the body's structure. Progressive overload strength training follows typically with a mace or club that has a weighted core. Wood carved rings held onto a tree by straps are used for acrobatic training. An ice bath follows in a barrel he keeps. He then rests through a walk in Nature seeking the Force and makes practice the abilities he's acquired over his years of study. Lunch is an assortment of dark greens and grains that require boiling water to absorb into an edible texture that hydrates his system upon digestion. Any business leftover from previous days he may address, or to simply nap midday to address the stress of his training. The nap reinvigorates his mind and replenishes the body well enough to have the energy for martial arts training with coaching. Dinner is whatever his wife cooked, or by request of what she'd like to have cooked, or a meal for himself that satiates the appetite to his preference alongside a synthesized protein drink of his own formula. Time with her is given priority before he goes through the hygiene process once again, a routine of stretches, and then returns to sleep once again.

This routine is maintained as a training lifestyle to maintain his prowess in the event it is needed during times of crisis, which has often befallen his Clan over the many years he's spent with them. Thus, he seeks not of his own desire to travel, involve himself in heavy business, find communities outside his home environment, or engage in large scale projects. As with all these things are simply distractions from the role he chose for his life in servitude to the people of his homeland and being prepared and proficient for if harm finds its way, as with shown in history to be an eventuality. It is not his own desire to do this, though he finds enjoyment in the maintenance of his health and potential the body can reach. It is out of fear in the heinous cruelty others in this reality have done out of selfishness, instinctive compulsory ignorance, greed, vengeance, and malice. It’s the anger from those that impose suffering he trains for, awaiting a worthy opponent just as dedicated to push his capabilities beyond its current capacity.

The Mon Calamari diplomats came through an automated door alongside a protocol droid into a room with an extended table and many more chairs than necessary surrounding it. Their glossy eyes scanned the room with a silent and pious look of disapproval. On one end sat Creon alongside his bride Elyon both cloaked similarly in robes traditionally associated with the Jedi.

“Ambassadors, thank you so much for coming,” Elyon said as she stood from her seat. “I am Jedi Knight Elyon de Neverse, and this is my companion Creon.”

Creon stood and bowed, “We are grateful for your considerate compassion in opening negotiations.”

“Yes, we are always intrigued for opportunities of good business. Thank you for hosting us.”

“Please,” Elyon gestured to the chairs across from them. Everyone then made their way back to their respective seats. Elyon then placed a datapad on the table and gently with the Force telekinetically pushed it towards the visiors.

“These are our current logistical output capabilities. Whilst we may not be able to establish a clear exchange rate due to the ever fluctuating galactic inflation, we can offer something more real.”

The datapad showed a holographic display of the planet. “We believe our world’s oceanic environment is compatible with that of your own homeworld. The land-based civilizations stake no claim over underwater territory, and have claimed support for colonization. We also have a detailed outline of discovered oceanic fauna and flora, and-“

A hand from one of the Mon Calamari ambassadors was raised to silence Elyon. “I am sorry. Since you have no standing with the republic exchange, currency rates would have to be established and gauged by supply and demand. We already supply many civilizations across the known regions, and colonial expansion comes at a cost for many generations before any substantial net value returns. There is no profit for either of us unless you accept our rates.”

Creon rose from his chair and paced around in a seething walk to and fro whilst locking eye contact with the Mon Calamari diplomats, "Perhaps you do not understand the brevity of what looms in the depths of the uncharted regions." His hand rose and imagery of the assault on New Tython through the eyes of a young apprentice bearing witness to Muz Ashen carving through Jedi as a one-man army, indoctrinated to behold the atrocity as awe-inspiring by his mentor Jeric Cyrin. That day never left his mind, forever staining his heart on the heinous cruelty of the Dark Brotherhood.

Another wave of memories flooded their minds; Creon's witness to the carnage of the ascendancy and those enslaved by Plagueis. His fight with the collective on Meridian Prime. In witness to the Wrath and the fleet that follows it. The Children of Mortis' attack on Kiast.

"We are those who hold to the ideals of the Jedi standing at the border between them and you. Many lives of good people go wasted in defending the border of what you call "The Unknown Regions". I assure you, it is well known, and we have asked for your aid at a time in need of healing. For if we cannot stand vigilant, you will suffer them too. They take and do not give. They are governed by cartels that have no regard for human decency. Brutish and evil to the measure of historic reverence contesting even the most wicked of tyrants."

Creon's tone went from a low but powerful projection from the diaphragm to one more calm yet underlying fear, "We offer you the seas of our world to inhabit and to help cultivate, telekinetic architects to construct for you all of what makes it home for those who come, and give what business we can with long-term potential in capital. Because whilst yes, we may trade with them, this will become a staple of purchase that will weaken their economy. You will prosper in newfound wealth as what entity I've shown you grows weaker, and we can maintain the advantage of our fixed price and closer shipping distances to ensure our supply outweighs theirs for the sake of our mutual defense."

Both of the Mon Calamari diplomats exchanged looks before looking back to the Jedi and giving a nod of assurance, “In light of new information, please allow us to convene with our hierarchy and they will contact you.”