Fiction Gallery

A Silver and Gold Platter With Haiku for You

Artifact description: A small, solid gold tablet in a precisely crafted trapezium shape, measuring twelve to sixteen inches wide, eight inches high and half an inch deep. The tablet is easy to hold thanks to two convenient handles. There is an identical pair of inscriptions on both sides of the tablet. The tablet appears pristine and burnished, almost like it was newly forged. The script is written in an ancient Sith tongue, with depictions of figures raising the tablet high above them. The edges are enhanced with a silver filigree, forming a hooked and jagged pattern, and sharp silver horns curve out from the four points of the trapezium.

Following months of translations, the script finally reads: For those who wish it, Finding the true dark power There are but two steps:

With loud voice, you cry Out to the sky and accept The darkness within

To keep yourself dark, With tablet in hand turn it Over and chant this:

I can turn tablets! Just spin me right round Jedi! I can turn tablets!

To stay on dark path, Please turn me over again, And repeat once more.

It started as all tales do, with a man and his struggle for the all ever consuming that is the greed for more. More control, more stability, more … power. What began as a simple conquest of those who would oppose him, simple enough but that too became nothing but a little burden upon his shoulders. It wasn’t until he started to crave the excitement for the reflex of those who even set a gaze upon him. Let us begin from the start of the descent into the madness that is, Darth Howie the pantsless!

With begging an ace pilot in his early years, it was almost natural for those to never see below his waist, as it was almost relieving to be spinning in the void of space with no pants on. This only gave him comfort and the start of his descent.

After the death of his panda friend, he soon sought comfort, only to find it in the solidarity relief of casting away medals and denying any such gratification to others, especially those of an enemy disposition to him. If he couldn’t be free, no one could. This eventually made him look inward to seek the answer for his lack of gratification. Destroying planets, setting up wars, and even orchestrating a few coups to seek such gratification to fill the void that left him empty.

It began with him seeking out an enemy outpost of the Collective and glassing the planet into oblivion. Leaving nothing but ashe and dust looking for the outpost that may or may not have been there. Thus this yielded no satisfaction to the Dark Lord, he then began work on forcing the galaxy into another civil war, and even helped plan a Great Jedi War to rid the galaxy of the Jedi once and for all. Alas they survived, though the damage had been done and soon made him question if it was even power he craved, or was it simply just freedom.

As such, the coup of the panda lord rose up and claimed the right to demand the freedom to do as he pleased. Though this was short lived as even then he still felt the cage of what would later be known as the dark realization of the pantening. This realization that he had only ever felt free when he was back in his piloting days where he wore no pants at all. As such he began to wear no pants and realized this was what he had been looking for all along. Several planets, many hours of hard work, and even the destruction of a government did he find that what he wanted all along was the freedom of the swinging breeze.

Though this may not be a grand story, it is a story of finding one’s self and embracing what others may deem uncivilized or odd. Let it be known what Darth Howie the pantsless has done for us and embrace our inner desires to be free.

The Artifact is a chipped Holocron, purple and black and at the touch of a Force-sensitive, it's colour changes and shimmers upon the surface of the object. It is cuboid in shape with etchings curling across it#s body that never seems to end. Following it with an untrained eye could possibly cause one to go mad due to the ever-shifting colours and patterns. When opened its edges slide around one another like some twisted Rubix cube and when fully open it displays an emitter inside with engravings similar to those on the outside of the Holocron but in finer details.

Rhymed Poem

Within this box secrets I do keep, Open if you dare for I may cause you to Weep, I am not fit for any sane mind, For those of good heart and those that are kind.

Do I hold the future or perhaps the past? Perhaps of great treasures or truths that will always last. Do you dare to open and see whats within, To test your very soul and darken it with sin.

Perhaps I hold nothing at all, A falsehood to keep you on the ball. Perhaps I am everything that you have ever sought, The reason for every battle you have fought.

Or perhaps I am death come for you at last, Here to take your soul after all my collection is vast. Perhaps I am everything you hope to be, Why don't you open me and see?

Limerick

With globe in hand We do brand Bound to this clan You should have ran You have no ground left to stand

Should be like sand Least we expand For that is our plan Through our lifespan You will be left in our remand

You may look to understand Trying to grasp our strands We will leave you deadpan For that is our plan Now take the our firebrand

Bring us to the mainland Back to the inland Take the guardsman Show us the length of your wingspan And give us a grandstand!

Description-

This seemingly harmless glass globe holds in its core what looks to be a constant swirling vortex of blue, red, and orange cloudy substance. Upon activating the globe by imbuing it with the force burns an ancient mark of the Sith onto the hand in contact with the globe. This brand burns and can cause even the most pain tolerant person cripple to their knees in agony. This has caused several more devoted students to go insane and caused them to eventually take their own life for the pain to stop. There is currently no cure or form of removal for this brand. The inscription is etched into the glass.

[Option 1]

"A Failed Defence"

Colonel Aleck Winters dodged left as he avoided a blaster shot from the Collective's shock troopers. He had been pinned down by three Corsair Hive Mind Marines until he was forced to make a desperate move or risk getting shot to death as his cover was blasted apart, unfortunately for him, the pain penetrating through the left side of his body meant the enemy blaster had hit him. 'That's just crappy luck,' he thought to himself as he fell to the ground, and his vision started to blur slightly, 'I didn't think I would go out like this.' His blacking vision spied the Collective forces converging on his position and with his death imminent the wounded soldier's mind flashed back to how he ended up in this position.

The initial defence for the Shadow Academy orbital platform had never been about defeating the Collective forces but containment instead. Hold the from breaking inside long enough to evacuate personal and critical artefacts that were invaluable for the Brotherhood. The enemy forces were too vast and overwhelming to defeat, and it had been a long and bloody battle to fend off the invading army. Aleck had been fighting on the front, and it was brutal as the Collective's hive-minded soldiers were damn near unbeatable. It was how their minds were linked as a group collective controlled each soldier. Brotherhood scientists had tried to explain it like the soldiers were worker ants and there was a queen ant overseeing everything, but that seemed too tame for what was happening. After fighting and watching the enemy Aleck could only describe them as having one mind with multiple arms to get the job done. He didn't put much thought into it as his focus had been on the here and now. He had been disappointed that their first layer defence broke after only an hour and the invading force made their way deeper into the facilities with 67% of the evacuation completed. It had been losing battle to hold off the Collective as all that hard planning was for nought.

'Karking Murphy's law' Winters gritted his teeth as he waited for the end as his hate-filled eyes stared up at his executioners. However, it seemed that Murphy still wanted him around as its plaything as the Collective's shock troopers were blasted back by an explosion. Unfortunately, he was also caught in the blast and was sent flying back. As his vision blacked out, Winters saw he was being dragged back by some of his soldiers before everything went dark. This blissful darkness was practicality heaven compared to that living hell of fighting and watching his men die. His eyes then shot open as adrenaline began rushing through his system, Winters could feel his heart trying to rip itself out of his ribcage as his eyes darted to the faces of the combat medics patching him up. "The Colonel's going to make it Major Miles," one of the combat medics said to his second-in-command, "his wounds are critical and need to treated urgently, but he is out of this fight." Winters cursed the attrition of this battle having on Brotherhood forces, outmanned and overpowered, and now he was out of this fight as while his wounds were patched for the moment he couldn't continue the fight. He cursed Murphy move as he was carried away from the combat zone as he felt it was his duty as an officer to lead and inspire the men regardless of the outcome of the battle.

Artifact - Sith Ritual Dagger An ancient Sith ritual dagger. The dagger is thirty cm in length with 18 cm for the blade and 12 cm for the handle. The blade is made from alchemically altered metal and has a small instription on it near the guard. The dagger seems to drain the life energy and the Force from those who have their hearts pierced by it. The handle is made from hardwood and has a multitude of small yet sharp spikes extending from it. The dagger transfers the life energy and the Force stolen from its victims to the wielder via the spikes that pierce the wielder's palm and fingers.

Poem - Haiku (4 stanzas of 5-7-5 each)

Crimson on the blade Eternal sleep of victims All their power gained

Keep power within Two become fused if as one Never to be dropped

Until death arrives Daily sacrifices received Failure is eaten

Once full take me home The valley of lords of past Master rise again

The Old Tongue Format - Free Verse

DESCRIPTION

A code cylinder of ancient design. Carved out of bone. This archaic piece has an assortment of ancient sith words carved into it and is still tinted with an ink that may very well be blood. The handles are black in coloration and red pieces of fabric, giving way to age, adorn them. The roller itself is hand-carved and the words appear to be randomly placed. However, upon proper alignment through Force divination and when the cylinder is saturated and then rolled onto a parchment, the words are ordered into what can best be described as a prophetic vision of a future plague snuffed out by a 'Maverick'.

When the stars align A man bearing a sign Of war and endless blight

Shall enter our world Shaking our core Like the quakes of mysteries might

Death shall come in the night..

Eyes are focused A mouth consumes like the locust Devouring the Force with a bite

He comes like wrath Spilling blood for a bath To wash the Force from his sight

Visions of seven Crippling the brethren Of guilds made of metal and bone

Darkness ascending This tale is unending A Maverick sits on an iron throne

(4224) Gui Sol

The object before you is a rough-hewn obsidian cylinder, forty centimetres long and five centimetres in diameter, that seems to have been knapped from a larger piece of material with primitive hand tools. Strangely, the cylinder is always frigid to the touch, regardless of the surrounding temperature. Small, blocky glyphs in ancient Sith have been inscribed in a mesh pattern around the cylinder, giving it the appearance of being wrapped in fine chains. When light strikes the cylinder just right, the rough-carved surface creates reflections that look uncannily like the Human faces. Researchers who have come into close contact with the artifact report that after spending extended periods in close proximity to it, they begin to have auditory hallucinations that resemble jingling chains and crying children.

The translation of the glyphs inscribed on the cylinder is given below.

For sorc'rors with the will to mould their fate who find before them many threats arrayed, an incantation fuelled by ancient hate and deepest darkness will see them unmade.

This cylinder obsidian contains energies drawn from vilest sacrifice of children draped, by royal whim, in chains and thrown into a sea entombed in ice.

A cunning sorc'ror who ignites a fire and into it, this cylinder, extend will summon these tormented spirits' ire and bring enemies to a ghastly end.

And thus, if you face a superior foe, this ritual cast, and bring upon them woe!

(The "inscription" was written as an English sonnet in iambic pentameter, rhyming scheme ABAB CDCD EFEF GG. Because I can. :P)

Written in Haiku

Night burial vault A forgotten casket glows beyond the knowledge

Unseeable dark A forbidden power waits because of the corpse

Imperfect gravesite A divine, taken right gives despite the secret

Grieved break of day A stolen treasure curses at the perfect thief

A box of smooth black stone, approximately 25 centimeters long, 20 centimeters wide, and 13 centimeters tall. The long sides of the box are inscribed with ancient Sith runes of the incantation. The short sides have been engraved with various macabre imagery and symbols of death. The lid is devoid of decoration save for a single emblem etched into the surface. This symbol is unknown to all, forgotten to time. The lid will not open save for reciting the incantation in the tongue of the Sith. Inside are a collection of very old, very withered finger bones that radiate with a dark energy.