Fiction Gallery

Description: The tentatively named "Crown of Ruin" is an ancient headpiece akin to a tiara. It is crafted of stone and silver plated with ornamentation of white ceramic bordered with gold trim. Though it sits lightly upon the skull, it has a curious effect on individuals within close proximity of the wearer. Force using individuals have been found to be unable to feel or tap into the Force when the item is activated. By comparison, the wearer has an increased capability or potential with the Force while the item is activated. The inscription, which has been carved into the inside of the tiara, causes the item to glow briefly and begin to exhibit the effects described above. Otherwise, it appears to be a slightly gaudy but otherwise inoffensive or noteworthy artifact.

Poetry Form: The chosen poem form is multiple-stanza haiku (the syllables sounded right when I sounded them out):

ancient artifact grand source of power and might clad in white and gold

crafted from stone grey held by rings of bright silver like a crown of old

no force beneath you none influence on the world the powerful bound

kings and lords as fools warriors and knaves alike all as but children

eternal hunger I grant your will to consume ancient sith magic

ruin in your wake only one king to wield you all else become weak

but one thing you ask and I give you as payment my life for power

All that could be seen around him was red, the occasional white flash. All that could be heard was a blaring alarm.

With his BR-5010 raised and a knife held close to his chest, he stepped in puddles of blood created by allies and enemies. Against his better judgment, he gazed upon the corpses of his allies. The wrinkles created by his dour expression softened and his brows raised, seeing the bodies of individuals he could note was much younger than he. Though a lump developed in his throat, he trekked forward.

Suddenly, his ears perked. The sounds of his steps did not much the speed in which he walked. They seemed… Accelerated. Heavy. Just as quickly as Zodac noticed, he turned the corner and pressed his back against the wall, head just beside the corner.

The heavy steps continued. With every moment that passed, they became louder, nearly echoing the halls. The human gripped the slugthrower just a bit tighter, finger planted firmly on the trigger. When he peered around the corner, he cursed beneath his breath.

Bloody footprints turned the corner and only ended just below him.

Zodac slowly stepped back and pointed his slugthrower at the hall, ready turn whatever turned that corner into a bloody mess. The heavy steps that were tailing Zodac grew louder and he waited with his finger already beginning to squeeze the trigger. As a figure turned and looked down the barrel of the slugthrower, it was instantly met with a bullet. The shot thundered off the walls and the helmet the marine wore was shattered where the slug entered and exited. Its shoulders fell back and the rifle it was holding dropped to the ground.

It fell rather ungracefully and hit the ground with a loud thud.

Despite the now dead marine, he still heard the ominous footsteps he thought belonged to the poor soul… or whatever it was, who now lay on the ground. Zodac cursed under his breath and peeked the corner, to see three more marines walking straight at him. Before he could even blink an unholy amount of bolts were fired, and he fell back behind safety. Grabbing the riot shield off his back and holding it before him, he walked backward to find a more defendable position. A marine turned the corner and laid siege to the old man’s shield, each bolt leaving a crack. Zodac yelled and responded with a flurry of his own, all hitting center mass, the entrance of the slugs leaving holes in the armor.

With any well-placed shot, he knew the shield would shatter. He couldn’t reload, he needed his off-hand to do so. In other words, he was screwed with no way to defend himself. Zodac saw something roll just behind him- It was small and black with a blinking red light. He ended his retreat and sighed, looking back at the thermal detonator then the unrelenting marines. As the beeps quickened, he closed his eyes. Then, detonation.

To his surprise, he hadn’t been turned into a puddle of gore. Towering over him was Cato, who had picked up the grenade and returned it to the marines. It exploded mid-air, the force powerful enough to knock the foes back. The droid grabbed Zodac by his arm, nearly dragging him through a doorway and into a dark room.

“Are you hurt?” The droid asked as the door shut, leaving the two in the darkened room. All that Zodac was able to make out were the glowing eyes of his ally. His large frame bent to observe the human, and with no glaring issues, he observed his surroundings.

Unable to recognize anything around him, Zodac removed the lightsaber from his harness and activated it, raising it into the air. Endless boxes, stacked to the roof, and shelves with more supplies than one could count. He immediately knew that there was only one way in. He sighed and looked at the door, pointing at it with his thumb. “Maybe they didn’t see us come in?”

Suddenly, a murmur from outside the door. Zodac knew that hiding in this room wasn’t an option. They had the upper hand, with their cybernetics and fancy weaponry. They would either have to fight here with a chance to make it out alive or die hiding like cowards. Without so much of a second thought, Zodac stabbed through the door and pulled back. The floor before him shook just a little.

The man laughed and pressed his ear against the door, trying to hear what else was happening. The steps of retreat made him all the happier, but his face of content turned to that of shock as a familiar beep echoed. Zodac turned tail and dove over some crates at the door erupted into hot metal shards, soon followed by blaster bolts- many of which penetrated the crates and nearly struck him. The marines slowly made their way in, blaster rifles at the ready to shoot anything that dare moved. As much of a crack shot Zodac was, he knew it was a death sentence to challenge the almost perfect soldiers. He waited for his turn to strike, not with his firearms… He was going to have to get down and dirty.

As a marine checked for what he thought was a casualty, he was met by the glancing blade of a lightsaber that had suddenly ignited. The soldier dodged the first and was grazed by the second swing- but quickly took advantage of an opening. The marine hit him with a left hook, staggering Zodac. With the opportunity granted, the marine took out a vibrodagger and swiped, striking the aged man across the belly, leaving a decently sized slash and quite a bit of spilled blood.

He yelled in pain and swung his lightsaber single-handedly down at the soldier, who blocked it by pinning his forearm against the crease in the man’s elbow. Similarly, the soldier tried stab Zodac in the gut, but was narrowly stopped by a hand that leveraged itself against the marine’s bicep. Now at a standstill, it was a battle of might. The pain in Zodac’s stomach grew as more blood spilled, and he felt the vibrodagger itching closer to his abdomen to put him down for good.

Among the fighting between the two, Cato was handling the second marine. He pushed the soldier, sprinting with both hands extended outward. He shot at the droid, the bolts penetrating Cato’s plates but not stopping him. He grabbed him and lifted him far above his head, throwing the poor thing so hard at the ground there was an audible crack. Had it been any normal being, they certainly would’ve been knocked out or dead. Cato lifted his leg high into the air to stop the soldier, the marine dodged by the skin of his teeth. He rolled and unsheathed his vibrodagger, swiping at the droid’s leg.

A miss.

Cato pulled his leg back up just in the nick of time, and stopped down on the arm. This time, a much louder crack, and the knife dropped. Without time to waste, Cato picked up the marine by his neck and held him with a tight, barely breathable grip. He lifted the soldier above him and squeezed as hard as his lanky, metal fingers allowed. Apparently, it was quite hard as the struggle ended and the marine hung limply. Cato threw the body to the side and saw the struggle between his friend and the final soldier, and rushed to help.

Zodac felt the dagger slowly enter his abdomen, and he tried to yell in pain and was unable to. He wasn’t strong enough to prevent it from happening. It slowly cut deeper, and Zodac became weaker. The droid grabbed the arm that held the vibrodagger was in and pulled back, it sliding out of Zodac’s abdomen. Cato placed his hand over the marine’s hand and pulled it into the his chest slowly, as he had did to his friend. Zodac fell onto his back, weakened by the loss of blood, barely conscious. The soldier whimpered in pain and the blade stabbed deep into their chest, and they fell to their knees. They looked down at the handle and grabbed it, but suddenly stopped moving.

Cato stepped over the body and went to Zodac, picking him and the lightsaber up swiftly. “Stay with me, now. We’re gonna get you better, alright? You’re going to be okay.” Zodac felt the cold embrace of his friend and shivered. His head felt heavy and wanted to rest, the same went for his eyelids and limbs. That’s all the human wanted, just to rest for a few moments to regain his strength. The alarms that had filled the air in the corridors had seemingly silenced, replaced by a ringing in his ears. He saw Cato looked down at him more than a few times, but couldn’t hear. He fought to keep his eyes open, fought to keep his head upright. Suddenly, a final cold chill shook him.

He finally received the rest he wanted, and it all went black.

The Holocron of Darth Haiku

Within this relic Symphonies of Destruction Await the Master

Revel in Hatred Unleash the Anger within Built from long-lost fears

Lost within your Rage Millenia of power Unlocked by Lightning

Then will I reveal Forms I had chosen before The days of your birth

And you shall possess Knowledge, Power, Sith Wisdom Shared by Darth Haiku

Description:

The holocron of Darth Haiku is a multifaceted jewel that appears to be of natural creation; this item was not made by any hands of mortal man. It is pure kyber crystal that seems to have more than a thousand small faces yet would sit within the palm of a normal sized mortal being. It appears to be clear or glass-like; yet, when mortal eyes stare within its crystalline center, all colors and none begin to emerge or shine forth. This holocron is mostly round yet is obviously not a perfect sphere. And when one of true power stares within its center, words seem to appear that will guide true masters towards unlocking its true potential.

Haiku

Artifact Description: The recovered artifact is approximately two inches by ten inches, by twelve inches. It appears to be a preserved version of an ancient form of communication, long lost to the modern era of technology except in academic textbooks. It consists of simple pulped textiles compressed into a flimsy rectangle upon which the ancient Sith could use substances such as blood or liquid with pigments suspended within to write out their old tongue incantations. To preserve such a fragile item, the archaeologists carefully covered the item with a clear variant of carbonite, preventing any damage from the ravages of time. The written text is in a harsh, angular script and follows the familiar refrain of most Sith writings:

So old and so dark, Like a running river edge, Danger lurks below.

Beware the currents, The Force rushes past to pull The user beneath.

Turned to the Dark Side The Jedi feel the allure And succumb to it.

The Sith ranks will swell And our enemies will die. Down with the Jedi!

There was a mysterious medallion hanging upon the beaded string. The string itself was made of corded leather, adorned with 13 white beads, discolored to be comparative in hue to that of an exotic fruit from Kashyyk. At a closer look, the beads are old knuckle bones, taken from those defeated in combat. Over the years, the beads have been worn down, smooth and rounded from the wear and tear of centuries. The medallion itself is made of an old tarnished metal, that slightly gives the glint of silver. In the center of the medallion is a blue gemstone, cobalt. Around the edges of the medallion, there are letters inscribed in the Ancient Sith tongue. The ancient text withheld a poem that reads like this: In the light, in the peace The paragons of justice cease

A shadow that lurks out of sight Appears suddenly, its ravaging might

A war waged, hard fought The aggressors unhappy with their lot

Between two giants, a series of deadly spars The victor hold dominion over the stars

My poem is a couplet, with 4 stanzas.

[Option 2] Purge The Platform

Breakthrough, thought the Ongree bigot as his feet touched down on the Nesolat Platform. The Collective had delivered a surprise, soul shattering blow to Brotherhood forces that had left a hole in their defenses. Not the kind that the Doctor was used to patching, rather, one that he could exploit.

"My lord, Oligard," his oddly shaped mouth wheezed within his custom-fitted security armor, "At this rate, the brain of the Brotherhood will belong to the Collective in no time."

"Splendid!" came a hazy reply, "I knew I could count on you!"

The praise tingled Rakkas' narcissistic spine and filled him with an overabundance of confidence as he took up his shield and pointed to one of the platforms entrances with his blade.

"Go!" He shouted and out of the shuttle a group of Hive Marines, in unison, jettisoned from the vessel. "Don't kill them all, I need two of these specimens, alive. Bring them to me." His eyes rotated on their stalks as he flipped a dead body over onto its back with the sole of his boot. "Vile."

Like a wave of destruction the Collective forces washed over the platform. Turbolasers and blaster fire seemed to be as numerous as the stars as Rakkas stalked forward with his trademark limp, only to freeze as he heard a familiar hum coming from behind. The wily Doctor was trained to recognize the energetic moan of Lightsabers and if he had lips, a smile would have creased his face.

Atlast, he thought as he charged forward, crossing the threshold of the entrance as the hum grew louder behind him, sealed inside as his blade lashed out at the control panel rendering it useless in a cascade of sparks.

"You've made a fatal error in thinking I would be an easy target." The Ongree turned to face the sound. "Magnificent, I'll give you that." He hissed, eyeing the fierce red blade of a young Human. "Are you a student?" Rakkas asked, his words were poison. "Or something more?"

The young Human was clearly a novice as he fanned his blade and flashed an arrogant smile that had failed to impress the Doctor as intended, an inexperienced rush would follow.

As the Human slid forward and lunged, Rakkas saw the attack from various angles and took advantage of the strongest weakness he perceived. A side step allowed him to easily dodge the lightsaber and with his shield, he smashed into the Human's over extended elbow. The Novice growled in pain and dropped his weapon as the shield shifted and swept his legs.

The Ongree smelled a fresh kill and really couldn't stop himself as his hatred guided his blade through the neck of the fallen, the floor becoming a chopping block. The blonde-haired head rolled and the Doctor scoffed at the ease at which he dispatched his foe.

"Surely someone here will offer a challenge. What are the Force Sensitive cretins learning here?"

The towering creature pushed deeper inside the facility, following piles of bodies left in the wake of his Marines' bloody advance. His eyes rotated within his helmet as he saw rows of unattended archives. A sense achievement welled up inside him as the secrets of the Brotherhood, the Sith, the Force were at his disposal.

Collective troops collected their spoils, what they deemed valuable data, and destroyed the rest. An evacuation sequence triggered, the Academy forces were pulling back, undoubtedly because they were caught off guard and feeling somewhat defenseless.

"Take what you can, we will destroy this facility once and for all." The doctor shouted into his comm-link. A "Yessir," was the only necessary response from those wading into the fray with him.

"Lord Oligard himself will be arriving shortly, he'll want to see this personally."

"See what, sir?"

"The schematics to every Brotherhood facility, their infrastructure, military strategies, the very life-blood of our enemy."