Fiction Gallery

In the deep stillness Where nothing is everything I find an answer

Blood stains the landscape Carrion circle low in wait Peace is not a gift

Enemies to friends Anything is possible Just trust in the Force

On my own and calm, Troubles are now far away, Nothing bothers me.

calm before the storm the eye of the hurricane is it truly peace?

Corusca Conference Center Canto Casino Cantonica System — Corporate Sector 40 ABY Hector Von Ricmore

A frown adorned the face of Hector Von Ricmore. He had much to be irritated about. Peace talks between the Consuls had been interrupted by an unexpected arrival of ships bearing Plagueian IFF tags. The last transmission from the Concordia listed the ships as "Two Victory-class destroyers, six Aquitens cruisers, and a pair each of Strike cruisers, Nebulon-C frigates, and Corellian corvettes.”

Truth be told, the human wasn’t worried about the situation in space. Their own representative ship, The Concordia, was arguably the greatest non Superweapon ship ever designed. It was easily the equal of an ISD 2, but its triple shielding and immense weaponry made it far greater in Von’s eyes. Plagueis may have the advantage of numbers but no single ship they deployed was equal to Vizsla’s flagship.

But something was wrong. Plagueis could be aggressive but these tactics were sloppy even for them. It would have been far easier to take out the consuls and their aides through an explosive or ambush.

They wouldn’t have bothered with the facade of peace talks. Why go through the trouble of limiting the delegations weaponry and armor only to begin a space battle and not slay them in the conference room?

No, this was something else. The situation reminded the mandalorian of a recent event, a false flag attack aimed to discredit. It slipped his mind of who was impersonating who, but such a scenario occurring once again was not impossible.

“Korvis. There is a chance that this isn’t Plagueis. You recall the false flag attack from a year or two ago? I can’t recall who impersonated who, but we shouldn’t rule out the possibility of it occurring once again.”

The Consul paused in thought. “It is not an impossibility. The Brotherhood as a whole, not to mention a Clan of slavers would have many enemies. Regardless, we should evacuate to the hangar.”

Hector nodded in agreement. “I suppose the clans will all move separately, hard to trust each other after this fiasco. Just give me a few minutes to rig some weapons together, Plagueis didn’t allow me to carry much.”

As part of the negotiations Korvis was allowed to keep his armor and weapons. In return He forfeited bodyguards. Hector was allowed in the room as an advisor but his armaments where limited. No armor, a striker slugthrower pistol they knew he was unproficient with (to provide the appearance of a weapon), a fiber cord whip, blinding dust and jet boots for an escape, a glass bottle of Corellian whisky, a nerf towel, a spotlight glow rod, and a hydrospanner for his amusement.

Hydrospanner in hand, the Junker disassembled the glow rod and slugthrower. He then reassembled the items together in the form of a makeshift blaster. While he lacked Tibanna gas the blinding dust could work as a substitute.

Entering the Casino’s kitchen the human heated the dust into a gas before trapping it in a nearby container. The gas was then placed in the makeshift blaster.

Hector then realized he needed a suitable melee weapon. He took several swigs from his whiskey before smashing the bottle on the counter. He then broke off one of the chair legs and fastened the bottle to the leg using the wire from the fiber cord whip.

With a set of weapons fashioned the pair left the room. Hector moved behind Korvis; the lack of armor ensured he had to be careful.

The pair moved through the Casino taking down dozens of sentients in Plagueis garb.

The duo arrived at the hangar and moved to one of the LAAT/I transports used to transport Plagueis troops. Korvis provided cover fire with his Westar pistol, sending blaster bolts at the Plagueis forces.

Hector made use of his Hydrospanner and mechanical expertise to Hotwire the vehicle. While he couldn’t slice the software he was able to manually gain access through the hardware of the vehicle.

The duo settled into the pilot and copilot seat before lifting off into the air. Once they cleared the atmosphere the communications jamming stopped, they had left the range of the blackout. Korvis flew the ship towards the Concordia, while Hector transmitted their IFF to the flagship so they would not be shot down by friendly forces.

Mandalorian painted X wings clashed with various Tie craft in Plagueis colors. 2 squadrons of Mandalorian Star Vipers emerged from hyperspace. One reinforced the X wings while the other escorted the LAAT/I back to the Concordia.

The duo exited their ship in the hangar.

“Allow me to reclaim my armor, then we have a battle to win.” Hector proclaimed.

No Serenity. The Way of Peace is a lie. Passion is the truth.

Be calm, just be still Have total serenity Enjoy the moment

A soul ship finds me The still crystal waters call my name My body is dragged below

Clearing of the Mind The Opening of Your Heart May Peace Be With You

Stream trickles nearby A calm breeze blows through the leaves The Force centers me.

A Fool’s Serenity:

Deep breath, in and out I stand above, open hands Idiot’s Array

Selika led us Into a trap, yet I'm calm Staring at her ass

Vez is a simple girl, ok?

Knife stained with crimson E'er calm before violence E'er calm before death

Quiet nights, dim lights No one to disturb my calm Precious time all alone.

The thrill of war fades A breeze washes over me Peace is what remains

Cuddling with fur Man’s best friend ever with me Home among my pack

"I heard it, boyo, with me own ears!" The animated Galvan shouted as he slammed his robotic arm down onto the table.

"Easy, Starfist. Let's say I believe you. What do you want ME to do about it?" Gui lazily sunk back into his chair.

"Ya know, a Jedi would want to take care of this. They're all about helping us less fortunate folk."

"I'm not a Jedi. Not anymore." Gui grumbled. "Besides, even if the Consuls are conspiring to steal your barrels of Bestine Port, maybe you cutting back isn't necessarily a bad thing."

"Listen here, mate." Galvan's face had become more serious than it had ever been before. "No one, I mean NO one, touches me booze."

"Look, pal, I'm not sure what you even want me to do abou-"

Gui was abruptly cut-off as Galvan spun around in the Gilded Lady, one of Canto Bight's premiere Cantinas and began to shout. His chest pumping with anger and adrenaline.

The upper-class patrons all turned, most completely oblivious to what the short but stout fellow was even yammering about.

"I dare any one of you karking gutter womps to touch me supply!"

"Galvan-" Gui tried to settle the turbulent chest thumper.

"I'll break off your fingers an' feed'em to the -"

Gui rolled his eyes and sighed. He didn't understand half of what Starfist was going on about either. The colorful language was certainly not helping matters. As he processed the dialogue through his mental codex of basic slang intertwined with choice phrases that were more than likely, corellisi in origin. A tubby gambler stood from his seat and rolled the dice when he shouted "Sit down and shut up, you little worrt!"

"Oh no…" Gui's thoughts became audible.

"What did you just say to me?" Galvan stomped up to the foolish drunkard. "What. Did you just say to me?" he growled, driving his cybernetic finger into the Zeltron's gut.

"I said." The Zeltron bent at the waist nearly pressing his nose against Galvan's. "Sit down and shut u-" Galvan erupted like a mustafarian geyser and roared as he reached up and grabbed the man by the nape. With all the strength packed into his tiny frame he tugged down, driving the forehead of the Zeltron into the table, pinning him there.

He grumbled more swear words into the Zeltron's face as the Cantina imploded with aggression. A mug smashed into the back of Galvan's head, rattling him only momentarily as he drew his Powerhammer from his back and wound it above his head before cracking the foolish Rodian attacker in the hip. A rodese squeal was followed by the sound of shattering glass as he fell into the bar.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!!" Gui shouted as he stumbled back, twisted around, and seemingly danced away from chaotic hammer swings. All the while he commanded Galvan to end his rampage.

Patrons screamed as the less confrontational folk either ran out or lined the walls to get a front row seat for the drama unfolding before their very eyes.

"These people aren't stealing your liquo-" Gui tried but to no avail as Galvan ran forward and planted a foot onto the seat of a chair, propelling himself into a knee strike that would connect with the jaw of an encroaching Trandoshan.

Starfist land and huffed with anger as those who were going to attempt apprehension stopped and threw their hands up as they backed away.

Just then, bursting through the doors was a security task force with Korvis and Juda Graves leading the charge. It wasn't long before word reached their ears as they deliberated with the other Consul's outside. The commotion could have awakened the dead.

"What's going on here!" Korvis shouted.

Galvan growled as he locked eyes with Selika Roh standing behind Juda and Korvis.

"You!" Galvan shouted. "I heard you wanna steal me Port you wen-"

"Easy, Blacksmith." She stepped forward. "I'm not some drunken bar-fly to be trifled with." She said coldly.

Galvan stammered.

"What's this about stealing your supply?" Korvis spoke up.

"You, she, you all were."

"We were what?" Juda chimed in.

"Uhh, he said you were going to rob him." Gui butted in.

Juda looked from Gui to Galvan.

"Rob you?" He groaned. "You moron, we were going to PAY you for your drink. We thought a celebration after the games was the least we could do."

"Pay." Galvan huffed. "Pay me?"

"Yes, pay you. Just like you're going to pay the owner here for any damages you may have caused." Korvis looked around. "Judging by the state of this bar. This has become a very expensive misunderstanding."

"Told ya so." Gui grinned.

"Told me, you din't tell me any-"

"Clean it up!" Juda stepped forward. He was one of the few that Galvan actually listened to. "Pay the man." He pointed to the owner of the bar. "Bring the barrels of Port to the assembly by tomorrow." He commanded before turning to smooth things over with the Security that stood eager to crack down on Galvan with their stun batons.

Starfist felt smaller than his stature.

"Sure thing boss." He spat before shooting the grinning Gui a wicked look.

Hector Von Ricmore Canto Bight, Cantonica

Cantonica was a wonderful world. A haven to those who would seek to indulge their vices. Gambling, drinking, spice and sex could all be found if you knew where to look. Hector Von Ricmore knew where to look and was there to indulge. He had spent the last several hours losing money on sabacc and other card games, Corellian whiskey in hand and a smile on his face. It wasn’t solely about winning. The exhilaration came from the possibility and the joy of actually doing so.

The conflicts the Brotherhood faced were more than enough to fill Von’s pockets. Crafting weapons and armor and making repairs and parts for the Vehicles the organization employed was extremely lucrative. As such he had no issue losing a few thousand credits here or there. Staying in good favor with Canto Bight was far more important. The city offered many opportunities of the illegal variety. It was for that reason that Hector Von Ricmore was present in the city.

The human had taken his role as Deathwatch Quaestor very seriously, actively working to aid in building the infrastructure of Clan Vizsla. His recent designs included the Kast War Forge and Ion Pulse-Cannon.

Von had learned from the invasion by the Children of Mortis. He observed how powerful trained and augmented creatures could be for a militarized force. Such a tactic should be utilized for the betterment of Clan Vizsla.

The creature needed to be powerful and also serve as a symbol. While researching the potential choices he remembered the existence of the Arx Wolf. The wolf could serve as a symbol of the Brotherhood and there was a variant tied to Clan Arcona. But the creature wasn’t large enough for what the Mandalorian had in mind. He pictured heavy fast moving cavalry, Vizsla warriors mounted on giant wolves crushing the enemy before them.

Von carried a briefcase given to him by the Collegium of Science. The briefcase contained the genetic information of the Arx wolf, as well as payment from Clan Vizsla.

His contact was an Arkanian geneticist named Yuna Nal. A tall woman of exquisite beauty, no doubt unnaturally created from the species' preferred genetic engineering. The Mandalorian arrived at her table and introduced himself.

“Ms. Nal, I am Hector Von Ricmore. I have a proposition for you.”

The Arkanian quirked an eyebrow in curiosity. “Let us hear it Mr. Ricmore.”

“I have here a briefcase containing the DNA of a creature known as the Arx Wolf. I desire for the DNA to be modified to produce creatures the size of the fabled Loth Wolf which are capable of being tamed and utilized as mounts. Any increased intelligence you can impart while also doing so will be well rewarded.”

Yuna Nal rested her chin on her hands. “And what would you be willing to pay for such a task? Genetic manipulation is not an inexpensive process.”

Von nodded his head. “In addition to the DNA you will find the first of your payment in the briefcase. Beskar Ingots and Serassian Iron. Both expensive metals that can fetch quite a price. Further payment can be negotiated in the form of a contract, as long as you continue to provide the creatures.”

Yuna Nal pondered the offer. “I believe this is agreeable.” She slid a small pice of flimsiplast forward. “You can contact me on this comm frequency. I’ll trust that we will be in touch.”

“Of course. We will speak soon.” Von stated as he left the table.

Before he left the city he figured he would use the lavatory. Entering the restroom his eyes observed The Consuls of the Brotherhood talking in a hushed tone.

“I’m not getting involved in this.” Von proclaimed as he left the bathroom and walked towards his shuttle.

“Where’s the Rodian?”

“Look, I’d tell you what you want to know, but you’re gonna have to be more specific! There are tons of Rodians in Ebon Ridge!”

A blue light flickered to life in the darkness, shining off Ellac’s face as he glared down at the Devaronian he had by the throat. The light portrayed the rotating bust of a bounty contract that had been opened on a chosen target, a Rodian with green scales and a tell-tale scar that ran across his face from his left ear to the right side of his throat.

“Dweebo Sartoona,” Ellac said. “I know you know him.”

“Dweebo? That’s who you want? Why didn’t you just say so!,” The Devaronian chuckled nervously. “Sure, I know ‘em! He used to do some jobs for me back in the day! Did some real nice work too, I mean real nice, a professional even! B-but I don’t know whe-“

Ellac tightened his grip around his victim’s throat. “That’s not good enough.”

The Devaronian gasped as he tried to squirm free from the Sith’s grasp. “Okay, okay, I know where he is!”

“Talk.” Ellac said, loosening his grip just enough to allow air to pass through.

Relieved to breathe but now even more nervous, his whole body began trembling. “Well, I mean, I don’t know where he is right now, but-“

Ellac began to squeeze his throat again, but the Devaronian yelped in protest.

“WAIT!, I don’t know where he is right now but I know where he’s going to be!”

Ellac pulled the frightened man up as he leaned close to his face. “You are officially out of breath to waste. Tell me what I want to know, and ONLY what I want to know, or I’ll close your windpipe permanently.”

“Okay…,” the man panted. “Okay… The last deal I had with him, he said he hit the jackpot. He told me about a deal he scored with one of the bigwigs of those fancy casinos. Apparently Dweebo was gonna make a trade with this guy for a lot of credits, but that’s all I know, I swear!”

“Where is this deal?”

“He said it was gonna be on the outskirts, a place they call the Scrap Pits! But you’ll need an invitation to get in. They don’t let just anyone in, ya know!”

“So where can I get an invitation?”

”I don’t know, I never got one! It’s all very hush-hush. It’s not like they do the most legal stuff in there! Those deathmatches are brutal!” The Devaronian cried.

Ellac dropped the man, rising to his feet. “That’s exactly what I needed to know. Thank you.”

The Devaronian let out a feeble laugh as he crawled onto his knees. “Hey, no problem! Anytime! And thanks for not killing me, ya know? It’s bad for business...”

“Of course,” Ellac said, drawing his blaster from his holster before firing a bolt through the man’s head. “Don’t mention it.”

•••

The sun had barely set under the horizon as Ellac approached the fence to peer inside the salvage yard. Broken pieces of ship debris and speeder parts collected in mounds scattered throughout the lot. “The Scrap Pit?,” Ellac muttered to himself as he slipped through a hole in the wire-mesh fence. “That’s a bit on the nose, even for me.” Being careful not to accidentally kick any buckets or cause something to shift in the piles, Ellac pressed deeper into the salvage. ‘Still, something in the air doesn’t seem right for a place like this.’ To him, it almost seemed as if the piles of wreckage were breathing, quietly humming deep underneath the surface. ‘It’s too… alive.’

“That’s the only way we like it.”

Ellac spun on his heel, his lightsaber instinctively drawn, but not yet ignited. The source of the voice, standing above him on one of the scrap heaps was a human like himself, holding his head up to stare down his nose at Ellac.

“How’d you get in here?” His accent was thick, almost like that of an imperial, but the way he said certain words like “Way” and “Like” sounded very similar.

“I got an invitation from a friend of Sartoona.” Ellac said. “I came to see him.”

The man above Ellac burst out laughing, as if he couldn’t contain it if he tried. “You want to talk to Sartoona? You mean, with the bounty on his head and all? Suuure, please, by all means, he’d be more than happy to see you!” he said, still laughing to himself. “I mean, really? C’mon, you don’t actually think you can just walk in here and sit down with one of our esteemed guests like you’re old mates from the academy, do you?”

“We all have our delusions.” Ellac said, still staring up at him.

“No kidding, mate.” He said with a smirk. “Tell you what, I like you. So here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m not gonna kill you here, and I’m not an unreasonable man, so how would you feel about being the Scrap Pit’s next contender? You and another fighter step into the ring, fight to the death, and if you win, we’ll let you see Sartoona. Sound like a plan?”

Ellac had to stop himself from smiling at the thought of being in another ring fight. “Alright, I’m in. When do we start?”

“Why not now?” The man said, gesturing to a significantly larger pile of scrap in the middle of the yard. “In that salvage heap is the warehouse, and inside there, the ring, and your opponent is already waiting for you. Just remember not to die, and you’ll get what you came for. Now off you pop!”

Ellac looked over to the warehouse for a moment before making his way over to the large mound. A piece of metal slid out of the way, a doorway opening up to the Scrap Pit inside. The ring was about an eight foot deep recess into the ground, with a four foot fence standing on all sides. An office box sat above the standard seats to provide a better view of the fights. In side the ring, a wookie slave had been thrown into center, clearly more of a prisoner than a willing participant.

“Right this way.” One of the thugs inside gestured to a gate in the fence.

Ellac stepped into the ring, the heat from the bright spotlights bearing down on his shoulders.

The day Ashura learned to maximise his Mind Trick force ability to delay its effect, essential turning people he'd broken into spies or assassins, had been one of his proudest achievements. It meant he could use this to benefit himself and others (if needed.) He had discovered a spy working against the Brotherhood as part of his duties to the Inquisitorius. It fell to him to interrogate the spy and learn who had sent him. The man in question was restricted to an interrogation chair, the same kind the Inquisitors of the Galactic Empire used on their prisoners.

"You will tell me who sent you. It is only a matter of time, and we are both going nowhere."

The Sith Warlord said to the dark side practitioner as he slowly walked around the chair. He had spent the last hour torturing the man, only to give the prisoner brief respites to question him before returning to it, the screams of pain soothing the Inquisitor's cold black heart. However, it was time to take a different approach. As if breaking the man's body was not enough, Ashura decided to break his mind, to render the spy into a drooling state, ready to be manipulated to whatever the Sith needed him to be. He stopped before the prisoner and reached out a hand as the Force flowed through him and to the restrained spy.

"You will break. It is inevitable."

Ashura connected to the prisoner's mind to use the malicious and perverted use of the Jedi mind trick to take control of the man's mind. He truly enjoyed this Force ability twisted by the Dark Side. If he had to explain what he was doing to someone who wasn't Force-sensitive, he'd explain it like Slicing into a data network, as Firewalls protected computer systems. Willpower and one's Force nature (if a Force user) could prevent this ability from taking effect. It was one of the main reasons those with strong wills were not affected by the mind trick ability, although that said, given enough time, anyone would break. Torture was an effective way to lower these resistances.

"You have failed in your mission. Those who you serve have abandoned you to this fate. Do not let their betrayal lead to your death. Listen to reason."

The Inquisitor's words were laced with the Force as he continued to erode the spy's mental resistance. He could feel them causing doubt to rise within the man, which led to his willpower faulting, allowing him to seep deeper into the prisoner's mind. It was like a mist seeping through the cracks in a wall, allowing Ashura to worm his way inside, deeper and deeper.

"I can release you, give your purpose, a reason to get revenge against those who left you to this damnable fate."

His words were sweet like honey as he offered the spy a lifeline, all the while corrupting his mind, breaking through into the man's mind. Ashura suddenly realised something truly tremendous as the man's willpower gave out. The mind in this state was programmable. Like a computer, he could input his commands and have this broken man do whatever was required. He could repurpose the spy into anything he needed. More than that, he could set triggers and delay responses allowing him to turn his puppet into an unknowing assassin. The options available to him were unfathomable. Ashura watched as the man slumped against the interrogation chair, staring blankly ahead. A bit of drooling pooled down from the corner of his mouth. The Sith lowered his hand and took a step closer. Ashura smiled and placed his hands behind his back.

"Are you ready to comply with my instructions and tell me who sent you?"

Ashura asked as the man nodded and replied.

"Yes."

The Sith nodded in return and began his questioning.

"Good. Your compliance shall be rewarded. Tell me who sent you, and I shall inform you of your mission."

The prisoner began to tell Ashura everything as the Sith continued to work his mind control over the puppet, programming the man into a sleeper assassin, with his target being the person who sent him to spy on the Brotherhood. Ashura would later arrange for the spy to forget about the programming and have him think he escaped, returning to those who sent him while following his new masters' orders and finally assassinating his target. The spy was just an expendable tool for Ashura, his alpha test. The Sith knew he would have to refine this ability. After all, progress requires experimentation.