Fiction Gallery

Manually added by Augur Sanguinius Tsucyra Entar

TuQuan is submitting our entry.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1KxpcxR_jYxxHRsrx-_b9__gOCqABV-fVd9nVj5l_PpY/edit?usp=sharing

The air in the cantina was filled with a thick cloud of smoke from other patrons and their death sticks. It was a smell Pak Seba knew he would never grow accustomed to no matter how much time he spent in these grimey establishments. He knew he could avoid them but he also knew that would greatly lower his chances of snatching up a quick and easy bounty to cash in while they were too drunk to put up a fight.

As the thought was processing the door to the cantina slid open and vibrant rays of light flooded the dimly lit interior. A shadow blocked out some of the light as a new patron walked inside. The man was skinny and wore ragged clothes covered in dirt, oil, and other questionable stains. The man made his way to the bar and sat with his back facing Pak.

Pak used this time while the new patron ordered his drink to double check the bounty information he had received.

-Garren Dex -Male -Wanted for multiple counts of fraud and malicious slicing of a government banking system.

Pak checked the photo again and glanced up towards the bar. He was 100% sure this was the guy. As he watched the man sit and drink his drink something else on the other side of the bar caught Paks eye. Another patron in the bar walked past. This was nothing. It was the helmet that caught his eye. The helmet of a Mandalorian. The dark colors in the helmet almost disappeared into the shadows of the cantina but the orange trim stood out and as he was moving sent a grave feeling down Pak’s spine. Deep down he knew that anyone with a Mandalorian on their trail was done for.

Pak snapped out of his distracted thoughts and back to his target. The man was slouching over the bar with several empty glasses fallen over and strewn about. Pak knew it was just a matter of time before the bartender tossed Garren outside and he would be able to make his move.

Then he saw it. The Mandalorian with grey and orange armor was sitting just past Garren and looking directly at him. Pak’s heart dropped. Was this Mandalorian after his bounty. If so he knew there was no way he would outshoot him.

Pak stared into the T shaped visor of the Mandalorians helmet and another chill went up his spine. This time it was because the more he watched the more he felt like the expressionless gaze of the Mandalorian was directed at him.

A nervous sweat began to form just above Pak’s brow as his mind raced with scenarios on how he could claim this bounty before this competitor. He glanced at Garren in time to see the bartender was dragging him from the bar and towards the door. There was only a moment of loud disagreements from the now drunk bounty but he calmed down and staggered towards the door with his guide. Pak began to stand and noticed something or more specifically a lack of something. The Mandalorian had vanished during the small commotion caused by the yelling.

Pak stepped outside and had a moment of relief when he saw that his bounty had not already been acquired by the Mandalorian. There was still hope for him to get paid.

Garren staggered down the walkway attempting to whistle as Pak grew closer.

Fifteen feet. Pak continued to move in.

Ten feet. He could smell the alcohol from the drunk.

Five feet. Pak’s heart began to race.

When he was just an arms length away everything changed. He saw the Mandalorian standing in the center of the street just ten feet ahead of the drunk. Pak took a deep breath and grabbed Garren by the collar.

“Under authorization of the Bounty Hunters Guild I claim this bounty as my own. Get out of here.” He called out at the Mandalorian.

Garren fell backwards onto his hind end and just accepted that he was staying there. Meanwhile Pak stared into the visor of the Mandalorian before him. Silence filled the street all around.

When the deep and almost mechanical voice called out from the Mandalorian it startled him.

“Pak Seba. Wanted for wrongful acquisition and execution of an innocent. 10,000 Credits alive. 25,000 Dead. It is rare to see the death price higher than alive. Who did you piss off?”

Panic. Desperation. Confusion. Emotions flooded Pak as he heard the Mandalorian speak. Thinking quickly he drew his blaster and fired several shots in the direction of the armor clad hunter that had just declared him as prey.

Pak ducked down the nearest ally and turned left into another. Then right. Then left again. He was hoping that he could easily lose the Mandalorian in this unfamiliar back city area. He pressed himself against a wall and tried to collect his thoughts. He held his breath and listened for the sound of heavy boots running after him but only heard silence.

The silence was broken as a brilliant white streak crossed just in front of Pak’s face. The blaster bolt struck a pipe protruding from the wall and sent an eruption of sparks and steam into the air. The steam made it hard to see anything in the dark and narrow alleyway as Pak strained his eyes to find his attacker.

Then seconds later a rushing sound filled the alleyway as the Mandalorians jetpack brought him down just feet from the terrified hunter.

Pak gripped his blaster tight and began to raise it into the air towards the terrifying figure. A sharp pain surged through his wrist and he lost his grip on the blaster. Before the weapon had hit the ground Pak felt the solid strike of the Mandalorian again, this time across his face. The amature hunter fell to the ground and panic set in at the deepest levels. He began to weep on the ground as he accepted his fate.

He was startled as an almost gentle hand rested on his shoulder and began to help his to his feet. The Mandalorian spoke in his deep voice once more.

“Get on your feet. You are better than this. That bounty out there is yours. Did you want to cash it in or not?”

Pak let the words stumble out of his mouth as he tried to control his sobbing.

“You. You're going to let me live?”

“Go get that bounty.”

Pak attempted to compose himself and stand tall. He reached down to pick up his blaster. He knew the moment he touched it he was dead. Instead as he stood up the Mandalorian turned around and began to walk away.

Pak quickly aimed the blaster at the Mandalorians back and fired. A burst of sparks erupted as the bolt glanced off of the beskar armor and into the wall. Pak saw the movement of the Mandalorian reaching for his blaster and spinning in a fluid motion.

“I knew you would fight.”

Paks last sight he saw was the bright white blaster bolt soaring in his direction.

Like a glistening leviathan, the Luminous Spear slipped out of hyperspace travel, it's mirror-like finish catching the reflection of the planet below as it sliced through the dark. The ship had been in a state of constant roaming since Aarush Solaar purchased it from that Nubian priest so many years ago. Used as a diplomatic vessel for much of its tenure, it was now used for something more sinister, more, taboo.

crack the sound of a whip could be heard coming from the Spear's belly. It was seemingly loud enough to hear from the outside. But for those savvy to what went on in that ship, it was simply best to ignore it.

"Come on, schutta, is that all you've got!?" the words were followed by bloody spittle as crimson liquid dripped from grit teeth. A man of unique origin kneeled at the center of a round room lined with black and white pillows, just in front of an ornate chair, but adjacent to the plush bed. His toned arms were shackled by chains connected to each side of the hull and fluids of unknown substance encircled him. The towering figure who proceeded to lash him was a curvaceous Falleen and her long black hair fell over her meaty shoulders as she reared back and crack

The man winced in pain but an eerie smile crept across his face as his eyes rolled back in sadistic pleasure. It was clear to see that he was a sorcerer, an adherent to the old way as the room was riddled with artifacts and Krath symbolism. But he was also a masochist with twisted desires.

"You will find the man that Declan put on the registry." The Falleen grinned. "If you play their game, by their rules, you will earn their respect. They will be more willing to follow you if you are one of them." she referred to the Mandalorians and their code as her whispered words toyed with his senses. The smell of her was intoxicating. "Find him!" she shouted, slapping him in the face. Carried away, in the moment.

"Sodoma!" Gomorii shouted. The cute Zeltron with white hair and a bustier, Aarush's prized possession.

He felt the claws of the Falleen slice through his flesh and instantly every muscle in his body tensed. The Force, like a wild animal flooded his existence with overwhelming power as he roared in anger, shattering his bonds as if they were fine glass.

Sodoma stumbled back, fully realizing what she had done, the grave mistake she had made. Ensnared by an unseen hand, she clawed at her throat and began to levitate from the floor before she was sent backwards, pinned against the bulkhead and her love.

Like the rampaging storms of Eadu, crackles of electricity sparked from his eye sockets and his hands became charged with violent dark energy.

"Master!" Gomorii screamed, "No, let her go!" If anyone could soothe him, it was her, as her frail arms wrapped around him from behind. He seethed with anger but before he could unleash that torrent of aggression, Sodoma fell to the floor gasping for breath. The storm had dissipated, for now.

"Fo-forgive me, love." Aarush spoke, interrupted by Doctor Lazarus, his loyal companion as he burst into the room.

"Watching on the camera I was, should I fix you?" the Ugnaught stammered, desperate to please.

"Why were you watching on the cameras?" Aarush smirked and Lazarus became panicstricken, "I'll be fine. The wounds are superficial." Solaar said with a stern tone and closed his eyes. The wounds on his face began to mend, the open wound sealed as though he performed a miracle but his back remained minced and bleeding. The blood soaked into his white tunic as he draped it over his shoulders and he poured himself a drink.

With a flick of his wrist, Lazarus was dismissed and he stood before his harem, sipping the high-quality liquor he acquired from the Coruscant ecumenopolis.

From the unknown regions of the Galaxy, Aarush took pride in his journeys and often collected a piece from every system he had visited.

"My girls, with you by my side," he lifted his arms in a warm gesture "I could rule the Galaxy." he mused, unsheathing his arrogance in typical fashion.

Gomorii knelt before him and Sodoma crawled forward and did the same.

"While I am more than a bounty hunter," he grimaced, "I will do what I must to garner their respect. They will witness the true nature of the Force."

"Yes, my lord," the two responded in unison, bowing their heads. "Your will be done."

---

Mentally clear and free from the burden of pent up frustrations, Aarush flicked his hand and pointed to the Navi-computer.

"Gomorii, set a course. Take us to our target's last known location."

The Zeltron smiled and nod her head in understanding as she gripped the yoke of the Spear and her fingers rapidly punched in the proper coordinates in a sequence that Aarush couldn't fully comprehend. While young, he was an old soul. Having general knowledge and the most basic of skills with aviation, flying and astrogation were placed on the backburner as he focused the majority of his attention on mystical pursuits.

"Are you ready for this, Master?" Sodoma spoke as softly as she could. "I hear that this is more than just a collection."

"I am always ready, my dear." He smiled as he stepped up to a large golden case and unlatched it with the Force. His signature was required to open it. To get at the treasured contents hidden inside.

"Shimmer, Twilight, I need you once more." His eyes gleamed as his fingers traced the two lightsaber hilts resting on their tiny pedestals. They were magnificent by design, smelted out of the rarest doonium and aurodium one could find.

Gripping them like a lost lover, he rotated them and slipped them into the custom holsters on his lower back so that they crossed to form an 'X'

His white and golden trimmed outer robe came next, sealing the beauty of his tunic inside and a white shawl slipped up over his blonde hair. Icy eyes became slivers as his eyelids narrowed. He sensed the sudden rush of speed as Gomorii engaged the hyperdrive and like a streak of light, the ship skipped from its current system to another.

"Dead or alive?" Were his only words as the face of the man he was to hunt down, spun in holographic form.

"It says here," Lazarus spoke up as he scrolled through the pages of his datapad, "Both."

Aarush's right brow elevated slightly in intrigue. He heard the tales of re-animation through the Force but never did he attempt it personally. Declan didn't put in a request alone. Someone else was pulling the strings. Someone powerful, with an agenda.

"Sir, it is entirely feasible to alter the brain function of a being after death. Think of it like reprogramming a droid. The science behind it is fascinating. I've also heard that through Sith Alchemy, many unnatural things ar-"

Aarush pressed a single finger to his lips and the rambling Ugnaught fell silent. Harnessing such a power would enable him to raise his own army without needing to rely on his uncanny deceptiveness. He sifted through the Krath rituals locked away in his memory and-

"Maybe.." He pondered. "Gomorii, change of plans. Chart a course for Dathomir."

Foothold Competition Entry Seer Raziel Clan Odan-Urr House Sunrider Pin 11584

“Raz, why are we here?” Soona asked, looking at him with the most puzzled expression on her face as they walked along the suspension bridge connecting the small spaceport attached to the mountain with the rest of the settlement. It, like the many others in Foothold, had seen far better days, and the way it swayed in the mountain wind didn’t seem to fill her with much confidence. “Are we trading?”

Raz shook his head, the gesture coming a moment or two later than it should have. He was still getting used to actually emoting for the benefit of the ‘sighted’. “No, this is actual business for the clan. It’s uh, cultural?”

“Cultural? We’re anthropologists now? It’s safer than how you usually make money, but why’d you agree?”

“Tzugura, there’s still volumes about me you don’t know,” Raziel snickered. Not even in his customary Jensaairai armor, he looked considerably more at ease than she did. “And you’re about to ask me to explain that.”

“Am I that transparent?” She asked, her small lavender hand gripping the handrail so tightly her knuckles were turning a deep violet. “Or was it the Force? Because if it was me being transparent, there’s a blind joke there.”

Raziel smirked and gave a shrug, neither action looking perfectly correct. “So my Jensaarai training wasn’t just lifting rocks and reading minds. Remember the whole spiel about the Living Force?”

Soona nodded, which prompted him to continue. “Well, we’re all part of it. Everything is connected at the deepest level. Through the Force, you and I are as much a part of some midwife on the lowest levels of Nar Shadda as her own family. The best way to understand that is to experience the universe.”

“So, you’re saying we’re here for a working vacation?”

“Yeah, that’s a fair way to put it. Besides, these are some of the most industrious people in the sector. They’ve been handed garbage and they’ve made all of this. The word around Kiast is the art produced here is a sleeper trend too. Might as well invest when the prices are still affordable.”

Soona shook her head in resignation, sending her headtails swinging. “A blind art dealer,”

“There’s the blind joke!” Raziel said in victory for her. “Okay, here we are, watch your step,” he added, casually avoiding the lip onto the next platform.

“Togruta, remember? My spatial awareness is probably better than yours Raz,”

“Stang, right. What do you see?”

“Everything is pieced together, like you said. I’m seeing shipping containers, chunks of busted up freighters, there’s what looks like part of an actual boat over there too. Everything is either flat Imperial gray or beautiful gradients of rust. The people, well, they actually look pretty okay,”

“That’s the vibe I’m getting, glad we agree. There’s pride here too, strong and fierce.” Raziel replied, taking everything in with his senses, both physical and with the Force. “They’re curious about us.”

“The stares said a lot of the same thing. Are we just moseying around?”

“No, we’re meeting someone. A human man named Shin Paradeuce. He said he’d keep an eye on the spaceport and meet up with us to guide us. Apparently there’s a pretty big disconnect in food quality here. The right diner is amazing, and the wrong one is a night hugging the refresher. I know I don’t want to make that mistake.”

Soona grimmaced and kept taking in the sights. People were out and about, despite the chill in the air. The exhaust from the repulsors keeping several sections of the city aloft blew a warm wind past on occasion but it wasn’t enough to really make things comfortable, it only served to guide foot traffic along more comfortable routes.

Predominately Sephi, like most of Kiast, there were intermingled other species. Mostly humans, but of course there were also a considerable share of what looked like half-breeds as well. All were dressed appropriately, and as could be expected, fashion took a back seat to functionality. Something that stood out to her was their hair. As a member of a hairless species, the way that many hairy species wore their aforementioned hair was fascinating to her, and the people of Foothold were no exception.

Almost nobody wore their hair short, and after a few minutes she also noticed that when two people seemed close enough to assume a romantic relationship, the males would keep their hair in a high topknot, while the females would wear a long braid. Other people wore their hair down but decorated with clipped-in ornaments.

“Hello there!” A friendly voice called from behind them. Soona turned, waited a second, and then put her hand on Raziel’s shoulder, reminding him that he should physically face the person addressing them.

“Shin Paradeuce?” Raziel asked once he’d oriented himself correctly.

“Yessir, that’s me,” Shin replied. “I’m here to be your guide.”

“Your accent, it’s nothing local. Where you from?” Raziel asked, hearing something distinct in the way the man spoke.

“Alderaan,” Shin answered. “Moved here after I deserted the Empire. I’ll give you three guesses why,”

“And the first two don’t count, I got you,” Raziel replied. It had been a little over thirty years since that planet’s destruction, an event he’d felt as a teenager, leaving him near catatonic for the better part of a day. He wasn’t inclined to discuss it any more than Shin likely was. “So, food?”

Shin gestured towards another suspension bridge. “You brought your appetite as well as your aide I take it,”

“I’m not his aide,” Soona interjected tiredly. At least he’d said aide. Seeing Eye alien was her least favorite of the misunderstandings she’d gotten since tying her star to Raziel’s. “Just along for the ride.”

“Sure thing miss. I should mention, because of the altitude and the atmosphere, game is pretty rare, the people here rely mostly on hydroponics and resequenced protein blocks for food. Fresh meat isn’t in high supply.”

“Lovely,” Soona muttered wryly. That’s all she needed, another bout of intestinal distress from vegetable poisoning.

“Oh, don’t be too worried, it just means lunch is going to run a little higher a tab, and if you’re staying a while, you might want to consider alternative means of nutrition. I’m guessing Miraluka are omnivorous?”

“Yeah, I can eat whatever,” Raziel piped up. “So, since we intentionally showed up around lunchtime, and further conveniently neglected to eat, let’s head towards an eatery. Best way to learn about people is to eat their food.”

Shin gestured towards another suspension bridge, this one looking like it was made from harvested TIE solar panels, including wiring which indicated the bridge was probably also generating power as well. “The diner I’m taking you to is owned by my father-in-law, so we’ll get a fair deal. Non-locals tend to get gouged a little bit. As you might imagine, there’s not a lot of creds cycling through the economy. Most of the money we make tends to the upkeep of the repulsors, mag-chains, and the gas sifters.”

“Can’t you sell the gases you skim to keep your city safe?” Raziel asked, curious as to why they weren’t profiting off of the material they had to skim to maintain their own safety.

“Legally, no. The planetary government claims one hundred percent of the resources, so anything we skim, we’re required by law to turn into the environmental authorities. We’re not subject to taxes on this property though, so I guess in a roundabout way, we are selling the gases off.” Shin shrugged, and then waved at a group of people that walked past.

“Friends of yours?” Soona asked.

“Neighbors,” Shin answered. “Looked like they were heading to the holodrome to take in whatever they’ve got to show. If they’re very very lucky, whatever it was might have even been filmed sometime after the Clone Wars.”

“I’m beginning to see what you all have to contend with,” Raziel replied, still just taking in everything he could. “Soona, what have you seen that you wanna know about?”

Soona took that as her cue, figuring he could sense the curiosity within her. “All of the hair here,” she began, and then paused when Shin nodded at her.

He stopped and pointed towards what looked like a small family in front of a shipping container turned secondhand clothing store. “Okay, so married means topknots and braids, but there’s room to be clever. I hate the way a topknot feels so I wear a ponytail instead. In the case of a married couple, hair is worn down at home.

“If you’re dating or engaged, you put ornaments in your hair. Since they can be made out of tiny bits of scrap there’s plenty of people willing to make matched sets. The real romantics make them as gifts for one another.

“Single folk are recognized by wearing their hair down, or wearing multiple braids or ties. Basically anything that isn’t set aside for someone else. The exception to that are widows, in which case women braid their scalp and let the rest hang, and men either tie or bun their scalps. Raz, that’d be you right now.”

Raziel patted the messy bun in his hair and undid it, letting his iron mane spill free. No reason to false advertise. “What about other species?”

“Well, we don’t have many of those, and we’re a small community, so the ones who can’t advertise have their business spread across town. Oh, and the people with short hair all work factory or machinery where it isn’t safe to wear long hair. Since they’re so crucial to keeping us alive and sustained there’s no judgment or anything.”

“Soona, anything else?” Raziel asked, remaining open to the Force.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure the Bothawui Shades lost the Galactic Smashball Open, why’s that guy wearing a shirt claiming they were the winner’s last year?”

“Yeah, that. Well, like I said, we’re a really poor community so take what we can get. In this case, merchandise is made for both teams so they’re available for sale immediately. The things made for the losing team are sold off dirt cheap since they’re incorrect. We get most of our stuff that way.” Shin answered.

“It’s a common practice,” Raziel added, stopping for a minute to re-strap his boot. “Secondhand and functionally ‘useless’ items getting shipped off to make some kind of return on investment. That’s why merchandise at events like that is so expensive, it offsets the costs to make the stuff they can’t use.”

Shin murmured an agreement. “Exactly. We’re here at the diner, by the way,”

“Thank the stars,” Soona grumbled.

“For such a small thing you’re always hungry.” Raziel quipped at her.

“Big metabolism, small stomach,” she retorted and looked at Shin. “It smells fantastic, I’m looking forward to this.”

Shin opened the door for them, a metal bell dinging off-key to announce their entry. “Don’t get too excited, the place is good for here, but quality ingredients are hard to come by.”

A banged up server droid greeted them the minute they entered. “Grab a seat wherevah,” she said in a sassy Rim accent, clearly programmed by someone who’d seen too many holos.

She rolled up to them once they’d taken a seat and turned towards Shin. “Mistah Shin, whaddya havin’? You want the usual?”

“Yeah, sounds good. Any fresh meat today?”

“Got some fish from the rivah stream,” She answered, her hand moving a stylus that was purely for show over a small datapad that was equally for show. “Yer Pops is fryin’ it up for folks.”

When Shin glanced at his guests, the both of them nodded, prompting him to answer. “Two fish plates for my friends here,” he ordered and then leaned towards the two of them. “The fried tubers are phenomenal here, they grow wild on the mountains. I’d stay away from the aioli sauce salad though.”

“I heard that Mistah Shin,” the droid piped up. “But you ain’t wrong. Caf’s for everyone comin’ up.”

Once the droid delivered their Caf, the trio continued their conversation. “There’s some kids staring at you Raz,” Soona pointed out. “Your saber dangling off your belt?”

Raziel patted his hip where that very thing Soona had predicted turned out to be true. “Stang,” he swore quietly. A visible lightsaber was not the kind of attention he wanted. Without his armor he wasn’t nearly the imposing figure either, so the kids she’d noticed were a lot bolder than they might have otherwise been.

“Hey mister,” one of the Sephi children asked, approaching him. “Are you a Jedi?”

Raziel shook his head and remembered to turn and face the kid. “No kid, I’m no Jedi. My little sister makes props for theater, she made it for me and I can’t not wear it, she’d be heartbroken.”

The kid looked disappointed at that. “Oh, okay. Sorry to bother you Mister,”

Something about the kid’s aura and his tone of voice gave Raziel pause. “You looking for a Jedi’s help or something kid?”

“Yeah, my Dad is sick and I heard Jedi can heal people,” he replied, and turned to walk away.

“Now hold up a minute. I’m not a Jedi, but I used to be a medic back during the war. I might still be able to help.” Raziel offered. “How sick is he?”

Suddenly feeling much more positive, the kid answered him promptly. “He can’t work, he’s in bed all day except to go to the refresher and take a shower. He doesn’t eat much and he’s hurting a bunch.”

Hoping to get the answer he wanted, Raziel risked asking his next question. Force healing could seriously take it out of a guy and he needed the fuel. If he could eat, all the fat and carbs from the fried fish and tubers wouldn’t matter a bit at all. “How long has he been sick?”

“A couple of weeks. Mom’s been working extra shifts here to help.”

“What’s your name kid?” Raziel asked, deciding he could afford the time to eat.

“Klinto,” he replied. “Klinto Meetra.”

“Okay Klinto, I’m going to eat my lunch. While I’m eating, let your mom know I’m willing to help, okay?”

“Yessir!” Klinto answered and skittered off, quick as a shot.

“I can’t take you anywhere, can I?” Soona asked, not at all surprised at his willingness to help. In the short time she’d known him, it was just his way.

“No you really can’t,” Raziel agreed. “Shin, you don’t seem surprised.”

“I’m not, and I don’t know what you’ll be able to do for him. Daz Meetra works skimming gas. His lungs are probably more lesion than healthy tissue by now, like most of the skimmers. He needs long-term bacta treatment, but it’s expensive.”

“Long term Bacta is expensive for a lot of people. I’ll do the best I can for him, but this is going to take some work. Who’s in charge of Foothold?”

Shin shook his head. “We’re a functional anarchy. Nobody is in charge. We police our own, make decisions by vote, and generally don’t bother with much else besides survival. When the planetary government demands to speak to the mayor, someone will volunteer long enough to look the part and then go back to whatever they were doing before the government showed up.”

“I can’t promise any Jedi involvement here Shin, it’s not why I’m here, but I promised a report and all this is going in it. Push come to shove, I’ll steal a Bacta shipment, I don’t care. You’ve got a medical droid or two?”

“Yeah, couple of Two One Bees, if they’re operational.”

“I can fix those too,” Raziel offered and then faced Soona. “Better get comfortable tzugera, we might be here for a bit.”

Just another day at the Godless Matron, looking for semi-legal wares. Nothing could go wrong for you, Nathan, could it?

Nathan was a pale Human male, a scientist accompanied by a past filled with others’ pain.

“Excuse me… Frackin’… ‘scuse me...Passing through…” a deep voice sounded through the crowd as it got closer.

Oh, great. Him. Just pretend you’re somebody else.

Not even a moment later, a Human just bumped into Nathan hard, making him fall on his back. The hood he had on his head fell, revealing his face.

“Oh Sith… YOU!” The armored Arcanist was visibly furious.

“I’m not who you think I am. Leave me alone!” the other Human said as he got back on his feet. The crowd around them was dispersing, as if awaiting a fight.

“Even the voice… I WILL KILL YOU, YOU SON OF A HUTT!” the Mystic said as he gestured angrily.

Nathan was backing away when he suddenly hit something. He reached his right hand behind his back and grabbed what appeared to be a hammer.

“After making me lose my limbs, you’re gonna lose yours,” Andy said as he readied his crushgaunts in front of his face.

“Just leave, we can leave the people out of this.”

“OUT OF THIS?! THEY WANT TO SEE YOU SUFFER, AND SO DO I! COME HERE, MOTHERFRACKER!”

Nathan jumped at the Arcanist and tried to hit him with the hammer, only for it to be caught by the crushgaunts. The mix of heavy gauntlet and kinetic-resistant armor blocked nearly all of the impact, Andy barely feeling anything through his cybernetic arm.

“Eat this, Bantha brain.” The Mystic punched the scientist in his guts with all of his might, sending him back flying into a stall.

As his entire body was in pain, he had no option but to keep Andy away. He reached out to the Force and grabbed the cyborg to try and block his movement.

“OH NO, YOU DON’T!” The tall Human embraced the Force’s will and led it towards his muscles and cybernetics, pushing himself out of the grip.

“Andy, please, this is not who you are!”

“Now you suddenly know who I am? Once I found out that you ripped my limbs apart, Andy was gone. I’m Robot now. The thing you could never understand is pain, BUT YOU WILL SOON!”

The scientist always carried a blaster with him, just in case. This was definitely the case. He grabbed it from the back of his belt and quickly fired three times. Two shots completely missed but the other one grazed the Arcanist’s right shoulder. The armor took some of the hit, but he still felt it.

“After years of constant pain, it becomes something you live with.” The pain of the blast felt like merely a scratch to Robot, controlling his pain output with help from the Force.

Nathan rose to his feet and focused. He created light out of nothing and threw it around him, blinding Robot and the crowd. He then made himself invisible and walked out of the crowd, hurting, but alive.

“MOTHERFRACKER! PIECE OF SITH! YOU’LL PAY, SACH, YOU’LL PAY!”

Sach. My nickname from a time Robot was still Andy. No time to think about your past, time to leave Nathan.

Eyes of the Beholder Competition Entry Seer Raziel Clan Odan-Urr House Sunrider Pin 11584

0615 hours Kiast

“Subject seems somehow allergic to living among the rest of the Jedi,” Anton Veth, a young Devaronian male, muttered into his datapad. “His vessel, called the Taliahad after some supernatural creature in spacer lore, remains a half a kilometer from the Praxeum.”

Anton sipped at his caf and for the hundredth time that morning, swatted insects away from his face. His blind was well away and incredibly concealed, at the expense of so much nature. “Taliahad so named for some manner of water spirit of vengeance, this bears further research. Subject is currently engaging in a physical fitness routine, and quite frankly I believe he’s showing off. No living being should be able to accomplish the kind of mobility mid-pullup that he seems to enjoy practicing.”

Anton sighed, swatted at the bugs again, and grimaced at his cold caf before returning to his high powered telescope. “For a member of a blind species, the subject appears remarkably vain. At first I believed this was to impress the Togruta female living with him on the ship, but so far he appears to have no intimate interest in her. Instead, I can only hypothesize his rather intense exercise to maintain his holovid star physique is personal to him. Perhaps he should consider coloring his gray hair as well.”

0850 hours Kiast

His sandwich was horrible. His fizz was warm. Really his entire meal was awful, and Anton blamed his surveillance subject. “I thought the subject was about to take off, but instead, he’s offloaded some kind of equipment. It appears to be an induction coil that he’s connected to his ship. That, in addition to several hammers and a small tank of what I believe is engine lubricant lead me to research what would require such things. I was led to an ancient and primitive fabrication technique called blacksmithing,”

“Oh, and here he is apparently instructing the female with him. That’s inefficient, henceforth she will be referred to as roommate, I can think of nothing better or more accurate giving the context available,” Anton leaned back into his seat and got in a good stretch, wishing he could have more of it but knowing full well he had work to do.

“It appears he is actually instructing the roommate in these techniques. The fool can’t even tell she’s too small and frail to hold the,” Anton sputtered, looked away from his telescope and then looked back. “No, scratch that, she seems perfectly capable of using the primitive hammers. That was sexist of me. Delete from no.”

“I was correct about the induction coil, and he’s using the magnetic field to heat the metal, and appears to be instructing the roommate in something with the work piece. I’ll have to get an audio bug planted sometime tonight.”

1220 hours Kiast

“They’re finally breaking for a meal, thank the stars,” Anton sighed and got up from his seat again, this time to walk around a little and get a real stretch. “Begin personal observation log.”

The droid brain attached to his datapad chirped and chimed, indicating acquiescence to his command. “Subject, well, Raziel, he’s just awful. I can’t understand how the galaxy has let him slide for this long. He’s been holorecorded killing people in space stations and picking fights in more places than I will ever have time to research. Yes yes, he’s killed slavers, that’s fine, I don’t like slavers either, but at what point was he ever taught he could serve as a full tribunal and executioner?”

Anton opened another bottle of fizz, another warm bottle, sadly, and took a drink. “And he’s blind, the piece of Hutt slime is blind, but there he is working out like a model. What kind of vanity besets a man like that? He’s old, near to what some might call elderly. His upbringing had to have been stunted somehow or another to encourage such behavior.”

“And the girl? He’s living with a girl that looks a third his age if not younger. I don’t care if he’s not romantically involved with her, that’s just downright inappropriate if you ask me. Shame too, she’s rather attractive, and much closer in age to myself. No, that’s unprofessional. Delete last two sentences.”

The datapad chirped and Anton continued. “And I know he’s a Jedi or something. He’ll be out in about an hour or so and he’ll work with his laser sword or whatever it’s called. I respect his dedication even if I fail to understand why. There are a whole temple of Jedi just across the hill, is he trying to show off to them? Embarrass them or something? I’ve surveilled them too, and there are far more interesting looking fighters in the temple. Pause recording,”

Another grumbling sigh escaped from Anton, who took a few minutes to type out a personal missive on a smaller datapad while he continued to pace. It was then he screwed up his mouth in thought. “Run subroutine, access all data available on martial artists, specifically tied to Jedi. Download to ship’s proxy.”

It would take a while given the clandestine holonet uplink’s poor speed, but eventually Anton would have material to cross reference.

1405 hours Kiast

If ever there was cause to hate his target, what Anton saw through his telescope would do it. “And here we go, out there with his laser sword, no, edit laser sword, replace with lightsaber,” Anton’s research had explained that much already. “I confess I don’t understand what it is I’m seeing. He’s functionally spinning it around his body like a gyroscope of some sort. If I had to guess he’s working some kind of close quarters techniques, as close to his body as it is.”

“Oh, look, the female is clapping for him. Well done, you have a cheerleader,” Anton muttered. He set the telescope to holoproject and stepped away, needing a refresher break something horrible. Several bottles of fizz would do that to a fellow. “Well he’ll be at this until, if he remains consistent, sixteen hundred. It appears the roommate has returned to her crafting. I confess I don’t understand the draw to this. Only archaic and primitive things can be produced, and quite frankly, droids made to fabricate can do the job in a fraction of the time. If this were Mandalorian metal I could understand it, but if the Holonet is right, they would need a special furnace to work it.”

“I suppose it warrants further explanation, her working at hitting hot metal. The subject is repeatedly pausing his personal training with his lightsaber to offer what looks like quick instruction or advice, so it’s become clear that he’s more experienced in the craft. I’m not sure but it looks like she’s making some kind of small art piece. I suppose everyone has to start somewhere. Oh, pause recording.”

Anton grabbed his chirping commlink and thumbed it on. “Yes?”

The voice on the other end, tinny and distorted, still came through clearly as his boss. “Well Anton, what do you have for me?”

“Well, ma’am, I’m still watching. The subject seems to be a creature of habit, I’m afraid a lot of this will be redundant,”

“Doesn’t matter, habits are crucial to understand our subject. Was I correct in my initial assessment?”

Anton nodded subconsciously, despite her being light years away. “Yes ma’am, he’s definitely Miraluka. He removed the eye covering yesterday and there are no eyes there,”

“Then I’m glad we set you up as far away as we did. You should be well away from his line of sight. What about the female?”

“She’s pretty, no two ways about it, but I don’t think she’s a spouse. I’m calling her a roommate. She doesn’t appear to be any manner of threat.”

“As predicted. Anton, you’re doing wonderful work, keep it up.”

“Yes ma’am,” Anton said to already dead air. He flicked his commlink off and went back to his observations.

1830 hours Kiast

“It’s dinnertime for them, so it’s dinnertime for me,” Anton quipped, and opened up another ration pack. “They’re cooking out, good for them.”

“The roommate is doing the cooking, and she apparently really knows her way around kitchen tools. My mother was a professional chef, so I can speak from some manner of experience to this.”

Anton nibbled at a protein square and hastily chewed his bite to continue logging. “Unsurprising, the subject looks like he’s balancing macronutrients. I know better than to try, but I really want to punch him in his vain face.”

“Edit last sentence,” Anton grumbled. His time in the camouflaged shelter was beginning to wear on him. “Sithspit!”

Anton grabbed the laser microphone and aimed it at Raziel’s camping chair. He’d gotten expansive about something.

Similarly staticky, this time from the laser mic, Raziel’s voice erupted from the speakers of the datapad. “So yeah, it was a long time ago, but I did some mercenary work for the Rebel Alliance. Nothing fancy and nothing high profile, I mostly guarded a couple of warehouses for a pittance wage,”

There was a pause, and in the telescope Anton could see the roommate speaking. He definitely had to get a bug planted. Given the weather, they’d spent most of their days outdoors, so he’d only really need to plant one.

“Oh, him? Hell no, I never met him, which was for the best. He showed up with another Jedi to Susevfi where my people originated,” Raziel paused again, and snickered. “Jensaarai, not Miraluka. Anyway he showed up, started a fight with some of the old guard. Lately the Jensaarai have been coming around to the idea of working with him.”

Another pause, shorter this time. “Yeah, probably I would. I like being here though if I’m being honest. Stuff is less galactically pressing but you’ve seen how busy they keep me.”

“I told you, tzugera, they’ve already said you’re welcome to a small room in the temple for when I get sent offworld and you’re not inclined to come with me.”

“Soo-gair-uh? I’ll look that up later,” Anton muttered.

“And I appreciate that but things get dangerous, and you’re not ready for that kind of violence,”

Another pause, and the telescope showed the displeased look on the roomate’s face well enough to explain the length of the pause. She had something to say.

“Okay, settle down. I didn’t say you weren’t capable, I said I don’t think you’re mentally ready. You’ve been out of the slave pens for what? A month, tops? You’ve got some stuff to work though that I’m in no way qualified to help with. Why do you think I brought you to the Jedi? They’re functionally worthless when it comes to action, but this kinda thing is where they shine.”

Things got quiet again, and Anton could see she’d stopped speaking, as had Raziel. “Personal note, he’s not a Jedi? And slave pen? I suppose she’s who the boss was talking about when she said he cut and shot his way out of a Tapani slave market with some of the people in tow. He must have had a connection to this one. Maybe, given his age and no known family, he’s looking to raise a daughter? This relationship is confusing.”

The red light on his datapad caused him to swear again, and he quickly swapped datachips before he ran out of storage. It was good timing too, Raziel was speaking again.

“Tzugera, I’m sorry. I’m a Defender, it’s right in the name. I can’t help it sometimes. All I can do is make sure you’re prepared. Mentally, physically, and emotionally.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. It’s also late. How about you go try and sleep. Lucretia is warming up to you. She’s a cuddlemonster when she’s comfortable with someone.”

The roommate got up, leaving Raziel alone. “Lucretia,” Anton mumbled. “Probably a pet. If he was flying solo before this, I can only assume he’d want some kind of company, and cuddlemonster? Probably mammalian, but I could only guess.”

“Subject just stood up and is walking away from their outdoor setup. Oh, here he goes with the lightsaber again, he must be irritated.”

It was several long minutes of observation, with Raziel working through some rather hostile training techniques. Anton killed the laser mic since his subject was so far from anything he could target, and just kept watching.

“He has moments where I can sympathize with him, and then he goes and does this. If he’s not a Jedi, and probably not a Sith, I don’t know what he is. I don’t see the other Jedi working through this kind of combative training. All I know is, the more I watch, the more I’m glad I’m so far away, and the more I don’t want to upset him.”

0045 hours Kiast

It wasn’t the noise that woke Anton up, it was the silence. He’d grown so accustomed to the local fauna and their night noises that when they went quiet, his sleep was interrupted. It was fifty fifty as to whether that was a good thing or not. On the plus side, he was aware of his situation, on the minus, however, he was aware of his situation.

The icy blue blade cut easily through the camouflaged shelter, leaving a good sized hole in the side. A hole big enough for Anton’s subject to enter, and enter he did, in only boots and pants, showing the physique that Anton had snarkily commented on more than once. In person, it made him much more terrifying.

“Don’t even bother with that blaster,” Raziel said, holding a hand out towards where Anton was reaching. It sailed across the small shelter and found itself in Raziel’s grasp. “Why are you hounding me?”

Anton probably would have kept sputtering in terror, except Raziel had doused his lightsaber, leaving them both in the dark. “Paycheck, alright?” Anton squeaked, only slightly calmed by the energy blade being put away. “This is my job.”

Anton’s vision was suddenly ruined when the glowlamp suddenly switched on, causing him to squint and blink. “Professional surveillance? Be glad you didn’t bring a rifle, I might have confused you for a sniper.”

“No, just observation, I swear!” Anton fired back, backing up against the shelter wall while still sitting on his cot, and not succeeding at either task all that well. “I was supposed to observe and report.”

“Okay, I’ll bite, me or the girl?”

“You. There’s no interest in her, or the other Jedi here. Just you.”

Raziel smirked even as he cleared the energy clip from Anton’s pistol, cycled the charge out, and tossed them both to the side. “Okay, I can live with that. Who’s paying you?”

“Abaricus Insurance Consolidated. You’ve hit a few of our clients, we’re doing fraud investigation.” Anton answered honestly. In the Core, he’d have plenty of legal right to what he was doing, but this far into the Outer Rim? No such luck.

“Insurance investigator? You’re surveilling me for insurance?” Raziel laughed, a deep booming laugh that filled the whole shelter. “You could have introduced yourself!”

“Not our policy,” Anton retorted, not sure if he should be more scared, or less. “Just observation, before the actual investigators show up.”

“Alright, listen kid. Tomorrow morning, you come by my ship for breakfast, sit down and actually ask me what you want to know, and I’ll tell you every bit of it, on the record. I’m getting tired of feeling watched, and we’ve got Kiveth eggs that’ll go bad if they don’t all get eaten soon. Am I clear?”

Anton nodded, not sure if that gesture even mattered to a Miraluka, before remembering his words. “Yeah, yeah sure. Breakfast tomorrow.”

“Don’t be late,” Raziel said, and left through the hole he’d made. “Oh, sorry about your camper.”

“It’s, I guess it’s fine,” Anton said, and sat there for several long minutes before getting up. First to use the refresher again, because Raziel had nearly scared it out of him already, and then finally to his small table.

“Observation report. The subject defies explanation. He defies it in every sense of the word. If I don’t show up at the home office within a week, I’ve been killed, that simple. This opportunity for interview though, I can’t pass it up. The subject detected me, and invited me to breakfast. I’m going.”

0315 hours Coronet City, Corellia

Veela Mentez closed her own datapad following the end of Anton’s transmission. He didn’t need to know she’d heard everything, it wasn’t in his pay grade.

Near silently, she rose to her feet and cinched the belt to her Ottegan silk robe closed before walking to her own refresher. It was going to be an early day in the office, no reason to waste time sleeping when she could be bathing and putting her makeup on.

He’d said Defender, she’d heard that clearly. That meant Jensaarai. The warrior had just become a priority.

It was a blur. They flew into the hanger in their ship painted black as the void of space. The Lasat exited the ramp first dressed in a tattered cloak and black armor. The hood pulled up hid his face but there was no mistaking his species walk and purple skin. The Trandoshan that followed would have appeared comical in his jumpsuit with pieces of clone trooper armor attached if it wasn’t for his look of pure bloodlust.

Max had approached the pair that strode confidently to meet him. I knew that kidnapping the governor’s son was risky but this was more than I had bargained for. It was supposed to be a simple job, kidnap the rent at a local bar, set up a drop for the credits, and be done. This however was turning into anything but simple.

“You got our credits,” Max said to the strangers. But he got no reply they just kept walking toward him and I would have sworn the Trandoshan smirked a bit before the pair came to halt about 5 meters before max.

“Does it look like I have one million credits?” The Lasat replied. “Instead I have a counteroffer from the Governor. His son for your lives.”

Max did the thing idiots do in these situations. He laughed. When two beasts such as they were walk-off an old Imperial Decimator into a room full of 50 men without batting an eye laughing at them is not the right response. Call me a coward if you want but i started backing toward the blast door leading into the spaceport.

“We have you outnumbered twenty-five to one. You really are not in a position to negotiate.”

“You should have brought more men.” the Lasat replied with a comical tone in his voice. He removed something from under his robe holding it in his massive hand.

“Oh, looks like the governor sent a Jedi. Always wanted to kill a Jedi.”

“I am no Jedi!” was the response as the red blade erupted out of his lightsaber slicing Max in half before he even knew what had happened. I turned and ran but the blast doors slammed shut in my face. Panic set in as I turned around. The swirling red blade caused limbs and bodies to fall to the floor. LIghtening would flow from the Lasats hand electrocuting his foes as he swung wildly through people. But more unnerving than that was the Trandohsan counting out loud as his blaster bolts seared flesh on their way through bodies.

Almost as quickly as it started the Hanger Bay was silent again. Bodies and limbs littered the floor, blood ran thick and I realized that I was the only one left and had nowhere to run. I started to bolt behind some cargo containers but felt my legs moving and I was going nowhere. The Lasat was moving in the Hum of his lightsaber is something i will never forget as i realized i was being suspended in mid-air.

“Thissss one is a coward. No pointsss from the sscorekeeper from him.” The large reptile hissed out.

“The governors son, where is he?”

“I - I- I don’t know, Max didn’t say.” I stammered out, trying to stall my imminent death. But all I felt was a pain as the lightning erupted from the Lasats hand reaching out to me like a spider web.

“Ok, Ok… just let me live, it wasn’t my idea,” I shouted trying to drown out the pain. “He is in the ship, in the holding cell. Just please don kill me.”

Oh, there are much worse things than death.” he sneered as the Trandoshan ran off to collect their surprise. And the pain-racked my body again as he poured more lighting into my body. I could smell my own flesh burning as I twisted and writhed in agony, my body convulsing involuntarily. The lightning eventually stopped but the pain didn’t. He was right you know, there are worse things than death. Disfigured and crippled now the worst part is the nightmares. The nightmares.

The following is an excerpt from a Collective transmission log:

The Knight, Luka Zarkot... well, they're a ghost in the simplest description. Here one second, gone the next. They may seem naive, but that is only at first glance.

On their own, they are a mesmerizing combatant. Don't let their slight build fool you. There is strength in their arm and their will. And if you see them without their pet, expect that the pet isn't far behind. The nexu is an extension of their arm and will. Find them apart and you will soon find their fangs.

In a crowd, the knight is the dagger in your back that you'd least expect. There's no use in using the crowd, as they already have it to their advantage. They will seem far into their drinks, but if you get too close you'll soon be seeing things. Strange things. You'll find yourself chasing phantoms while they slip away.

If we're to take them out, better get after that pet of theirs first. A nexu, smaller than most but quick. Easier to spot in a crowd. We find it, we find its owner.

Manually added by Master Dacien Victae

Manually added by Master Dacien Victae