#lommite

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STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 01:59:02

[sinisterexaggerator]

Tech and Hondo Ohnaka (Part 3)

Rated: Teen and up (a rare general audiences fic on my part.)

Warning: Pain mention, fishing (death of animal for food), Plan 99 mention. Small bit of angst. Use of drugs / weed equivalent in the Star Wars universe.

Fic Summary: Tech is plummeting toward death, yet he is spared, all thanks to a Weequay pirate who was simply in the wrong place at the right time, depending.

Word count: 5.1k

Notes: This is a kind of crack / AU scenario. I like the idea of Hondo being the one to encounter Tech after his fall. The idea was definitely inspired my Phee's line at the end of season 2: "Well, don't go running off with any pirates or smugglers while you're gone,." :) Don't take this too seriously, though at the same time I tried to make it plausible. The main point of this was to have fun with Tech and Hondo ribbing each other in their own way. I love both of these characters, and I am excited to see what you guys think.

Chapter 1, 2 | Read on Ao3

Many a swipe of Hondo’s vibrocutlass cleared the path laid out before them, the brigand chopping down branches as if they had personally offended him. Eriadu’s jungle had thickened the deeper and deeper they strayed into the forest, the pirate at once assuring his partner in crime that the sound of flowing water somewhere beyond them was indeed a good sign, as it meant the lommite mine was not too far off.

Tech was relieved to see it, albeit blurrily -- clean water, serpentine, a bubbling stream winding up into the mountains with a waterfall at its head.

Perhaps it was the sound, reminiscent of rain or the calming waves of the ocean back on Pabu, that finally gave Tech pause both physically and mentally, the weary clone swaying on his aching legs as he came to a stop beside the water’s edge.

“We are so very close, my friend. Not tuu much farther, and—” Hondo picked up a motion just behind him, turning in time to see the Republic clone fall onto both knees like a ton of duracrete bricks against the soft earth below their feet. Gray eyes widened beneath four-sided frames, though the Weequay was hesitant to make any move to aid him. “—Hm?”

“I…” Tech trailed off, lethargically sliding off his pack as he sat down fully on his haunches. One arm came to lie against the bulk of his belongings as he leaned against it for support, chest expanding and contracting with each labored breath he took. “I must rest,” he conceded, mostly to himself.

Hondo sheathed his blade, birds scattering at the sudden unfamiliar noise that reverberated through the trees, high-density metal taking its place at his side. He gave Tech a cursory once over, though Hondo was surprised he had made it this far in his condition, expecting the clone to collapse long before now; he had to admit he was impressed.

“Here? Out en de open?” Hondo asked with an exaggerated, questioning lilt to his voice. He made a show of pointedly looking to the left and right as if checking for traffic, then sighed dramatically, lowering himself onto one leg so as to face the wounded man.

“Ef only we had a stim-shot, ah?” Hondo suggested, both the Weequay’s striated hands reaching out to grasp either side of Tech’s definitely-not-standard-issue helmet. Instinctively, he jerked back, Hondo’s fingers left stretched before him. He did not retreat, tilting his head inquisitively to the side. “Trust me, yes?”

Tech stared at him blankly through the cracked head-up display; it was his only means of viewing his surroundings. Against his better judgement, he did not move again; he was much too exhausted to protest any further.

Hondo set Tech’s unusual headgear off to the side, carefully, and almost with a kind of reverence. A helmet was indeed a thing of great import, and Hondo would treat it as such; he had not touched another’s besides his since Jango. Those in his employ did not bother to use such things, nor did he often come into contact with soldiers, conscripted or otherwise, that he wished to have for company for any length of time.

This, however, was a special circumstance, and one with a high payout!

“Hm…” the Weequay uttered, a low sound registering at the back of his throat. Tech found it somewhat difficult to lift his head, so the Weequay did it for him, two fingers guiding him upward as stormy irises pierced through transparisteel with severe intensity.

Hondo concernedly studied this…variant of his old friend's face, finding it hard to believe he shared the same DNA as the long-dead bounty hunter. He often thought of Boba, wondering if he would ever see him again, or if the younger Fett had no time for the old Weequay now that he was out to follow in his daddy’s footsteps.

Hondo tutted. Or was it more of a tsk? Tech did all he could do; he sat there and breathed, dark brown eyes never once faltering as the pirate observed, though he was unsure exactly what he was looking for. He supposed he was still a bit worried he would be left here on his own with the wild animals of the wood, not to mention the TK Troopers that were bound to not give up; should the last squad not return to base, Tech was positive another would be ordered to follow suit.

“Yes… “ Hondo drawled, releasing Tech from his grasp so suddenly that he had to steady himself, head lulling downward as his neck refused to wholly cooperate; his body felt entirely too heavy.

“We shall rest,” Hondo agreed.

---

“That is not wise,” Tech informed the man who was presently hunched over, Hondo’s crimson coat fanning out like the splendid feathers of some pompous bird  - in either direction -  behind him. The scoundrel squatted easily alongside a pile of varied twigs and branches that he himself had gathered, turning to speak from over his narrow shoulder.

“Juuust because your brain es bigger dan de rest of us does not mean I du not know what I am doing,” Hondo snapped testily, flicking the flint of his igniter stick in an unsuccessful attempt to light his recently collected bundle of kindling. The clone was ungrateful, if anything; Hondo had gone to quite a lot of trouble!

“Starting a fire in the middle of the woods by which the enemy will find us is undoubtedly a poor choice; it does not take a large brain to see the flaw in your plan, though brain size has a surprisingly small impact on intelligence and behavior; the relationship is tenuous at best.”

“Well, I can tell you are feeling better,” Hondo offered in complaint, not at all happy at being so discourteously reprimanded for something he had done a thousand times, on a thousand different planets! He had allowed the clone to close his eyes for over an hour, watching apprehensively Eriadu’s sun getting lower in the sky.

“I, for one, am hungry, and IIIIIII suppose you may be as well. Ef we are tu stop here en repose, den I shall utilize my time wisely and procure for us some delicious fish, ah? No need tu thank me, dhough et would be appreciated,” Hondo finished flatly, at once a bouquet of Mandalorian orange flames sparking to life like the blossoming of some alien, incandescent flower unfolding before his very eyes.

“I have a spare ration bar in my pack,” Tech answered dryly, though he would not trouble himself to check quite yet, finding that he was irritated by the Weequay’s blatant disregard of his urgent warning.

“En fact, you are less likely tu see de fire in de daylight. Ef I wait any longer, poor Hondo will starve while you eat your nasty, chewy, flavorless nutrient—" he stalled, thinking of an appropriate term to emphasize his disgust, “—brick.”

“I am in no position to swiftly vacate the premises should the need arise,” Tech responded, reminding him of the predicament he was in; to not be at his best when TK Troopers – or worse - could be lurking anywhere nearby was disheartening. Tech was not used to being unable to fend for himself.

Tech was not sure if he had been heard, as Hondo kept his back to him, busying himself with something in one of his many pockets. It was impossible to make out what it was, and Tech would not bother to try, though the air was now inextricably pervaded by the smell of something sweet, and pungent.

The Weequay stood, complaining about his back as he straightened out, two fingers pinching the end of what looked like a hand rolled cigarra as he languorously sucked off the end. “Yes, I can see dat,” Hondo finally replied with a dismissive wave, smoke exiting through his broad nostrils.

Tech pulled a face, opposed to the distinct odor that now permeated the vicinity, his eyebrows furrowing to give off the appearance of two displeased caterpillars inching their way toward the bridge of his nose. “Is that necessary?” he asked sharply.

“Marcan herb,” Hondo offered without answering his query, another plume of smoke diffusing outwardly as he exhaled. “Would you care for some?” Hondo questioned, what could only be described as an impish grin spreading across the entirety of his face.

“No,” the clone returned, his tone laced with obvious distaste.

“Pity—” Hondo faked a pout, one foot rising so that the heel of his boot could press down against the top of the other; he was beginning to kick them off in preparation, Tech imagined, the unlit end of the tightly rolled cigarra being held down within his easy reach, “—it might… help with de pain, hm?”

For a moment, Tech wondered about it. He was never one to partake of illicit substances, but the amount of pain he was experiencing was substantial. Still, he would not let that override his common sense, head turning so as to avoid the brunt of its biting stench. “Absolutely not,” he stated with resolve. “It is important we keep our faculties intact and remain on high alert.”

“Make nooo mistake, my friend--  we will be high. Another reason tu try et.” Hondo’s grin grew wider, though how this was possible, Tech was unsure. However, this did not elicit a response, Tech’s deadpan expression the only reply Hondo would receive.

The Weequay shrugged, working to dislodge his other boot; the socks came next, much in the same manner. This left him barefoot, Hondo placing the Marcan herb back between his lips as he once more unsheathed his cutlass to stick it in the ground, hilt up. “I can tell you aren’t any fun,” he flippantly insulted, “probably de least fun out of all your brothers.”

“Fun is subjective,” Tech returned, beginning to fiddle with the crushed bits of metal and circuitry that made up the remnants of his datapad. “While this—” he held up the broken components for Hondo to see, “—is fun for me— that —” he made a gesture toward the water and where Hondo was now rolling up one pant leg at a time, “—may be fun for you.”

“No, et es a necessity,” Hondo snapped, the ridges of his brow furrowing in annoyance as he pulled another drag from off his herbs without it ever leaving his mouth. Hondo retrieved his sword, the vibrocutlass humming like the buzzing of a busy bee as Hondo waddled ankle-deep into the cool stream, this time the Weequay’s expression contorting toward something unpleasant–- he did not like the cold, nor being in the water. It was at times like these that he missed his hot, dry ball of dust; Florrum would always be considered home-sweet-home.

Tech sighed, inspecting a loose wire. “I am willing to share.”

Hondo would have laughed, but it would frighten the fish, so he refrained, voice deepening as it came out a dark gravel. “Not until Mustafar freezes over will I eat dat.”

“Well, you certainly have your priorities in line,” Tech said offhand, reaching for a tool that would aid him in his repairs; he sighed again when he realized it was not there. It must have been lost in the fall or during one of the subsequent misadventures he had since meeting this odd fellow.

“And you do?” Hondo asked disdainfully. “You are tinkering with your toys when you should be resting, ah? Dis es why we stopped, es et not?”

“It is not a toy,” Tech chastised him, “it is a highly complex electronic device used for inputting, storing and displaying information – this one is customized to my own specifications and is useful for all manner of things, including communication.”

“And et. es. broken,” Hondo stressed, lunging at the water only to come back empty-handed. “Stop talking! You are scaring away my prey.”

Tech did not say anything one way or the other. He was fine not speaking to the pirate, as all conversations seemed to wind up as petty arguments.

Hondo broke the silence barely ten seconds later; it appeared he was the one unable to be quiet for any length of time. “Tell me, what else du you du for fun, hm? Dis… fleeing from de Empire must be a favorite little pastime of yours.”

Tech smirked as he finally began digging around for that ration bar he was positive he had in his pack; being constantly on the move and expending copious amounts of energy meant the mostly tasteless, nutrient-dense foodstuff was a must to keep on hand. “Are you asking a legitimate question in an attempt to get to know me, or is this a ploy to find out why I am a wanted fugitive?” he inquired matter of fact.

Hondo scoffed like an affronted dandy, flicking the ash off the end of his joint. He adorned a little smirk of his own to counter Tech’s, taking another jab at something just beneath the surface. “Can et not be both?” he asked.

“There are many things I find ‘fun’ or intellectually stimulating,” Tech informed him plainly, “though living each day as if it might be my last is not of particular interest to me.” He frowned, as he was unable to locate the edible item he had been set on eating within the next few minutes. Everything had its place he reminded himself, although his pack was somewhat in a disarray as was to be expected.

As if cashing in on the interconnectedness of Tech’s statement with that of the task he had set out to perform, Hondo slung his arm back and around to dislodge a rather large fish from off his blade. It flew forward, landing in the dirt near the clone’s feet; it was both bleeding and gasping for air.  Tech was at least able to make out that much, the pirate having pierced the gill-bearing vertebrate through its belly seconds prior.

“Dis es an issue of skill, a lack of comprehension on your part,” the scoundrel returned, “for even dhough you might not be chased by de Empire tuday, tumorrow, or en de weeks dat follow, someting will kill you. Eventually. Like dis fish, ah?” He gestured toward the flopping creature. “Be et soldiers en white armor, food poisoning, a knife en your back from a beloved friend—” Hondo made a stabbing motion toward the water for emphasis, “— or perhaps ef you are lucky, old age.”

Tech did not claim to know everything, though this was one insult he took to heart. He knew exactly what he had intended; it was the Weequay who did not comprehend his meaning, and he deigned to correct him, even though he was confident it would be a wasted breath. “I know what life is, and the inherent meaning therein. What it is to live, and how fortunate it is that I have been gifted a life at all. As for aging, ours is accelerated. I shall meet my end sooner than you are likely to meet yours.”

Hondo feigned extreme concentration, though he heard every word. “You are missing de point,” he retorted breezily.

“Perhaps you assume clones are not in touch with their own mortality, being programmed as soldiers.” At that moment, Tech remembered; he had given the last of his rations to Omega the week before. Their arrival to Ord Mantell had been delayed, and she had been hungry. He thought it was the right thing to do, though unsure why it had taken him this long to recall the event; Tech was beginning to wonder just how hard he had hit his head. “I can assure you we are destined to think more on it because of that fact, not less.”

“Iiii never said any of dat,” Hondo said begrudgingly, capturing what was to be his second kill of the evening. He began to wade back toward shore, fish in tow, tossing it down to join its brethren beside the fire.

“Take me, for example. I am a pirate. What I du does not come without ets dangers, dhough I am of course highly aware of de gambles I take.” Hondo sat, crossing his legs. He placed his vibrocutlass in the dirt, then retrieved a smaller blade from out of one of his endless pockets; the Marcan herb was pinched on the right side of his mouth, hanging loosely from thin lips.

“Dat es what makes life so special, my friend -  enjoyable -  de not-knowing-what-es-going-tu-happen-next part. De risk dat death es waiting right around de corner! Et has taught me not tu take any moment for granted, not even dis one, en de company of a know-it-all who maybe knows less dan he tinks, hm?”

Tech only gazed forward, unable to differentiate between much of anything but the dancing flames and the vague figure of the Weequay whose hand was working at something in his lap. When a particular smell hit his nose, like brine, or seaweed, that is when Tech knew the fish he had impaled was being gutted open, Hondo cleaning the pair in order to cook them over the crackling campfire. “You are saying that I should find enjoyment in running from the Empire.”

“Not exactly, but yes,” Hondo grinned once more, slapping guts and bone down onto rich soil where it would decay and feed many creatures, as was intended by the great circle of life, “for ef you are running, dey have not yet captured you. Personally, de thrill of de chase makes me truly feel alive,” he finished.

“From a certain point of view, I suppose you are correct,” Tech admitted, never really thinking from that perspective before. Obviously, it was always deemed favorable to have one’s freedom, though he wondered what it would be like to relax – to have time to do those things he wished to do.

Being born and bred a solider did not mean Tech particularly enjoyed the missions that he was assigned, or only insofar as he could learn from his travels across the galaxy, but on the other hand stationing himself somewhere, like Pabu for example, would also be beneficial; less time fighting meant more time for research into those realms that truly awestruck and inspired him.

“Of course I am!” Hondo belted, jolting Tech back to the present moment; the pirate refitted the now clean fish onto the tip of his sword. “I did not make et dis far being wrong. Besides—”  Hondo added, plucking the rolled herbs from his mouth, “— I am sure joy finds you en every daring escape. You have a family tu consider, yes?” Hondo gave Tech a sidelong glance as he flicked the butt of his smoke into the fire; it sizzled in indignation before settling back down into a controlled burn.

Tech replaced the broken bits of his datapad back into its holster the best he could, adjusting himself into a more comfortable position so as to squint at the Weequay who was a blob of red some few feet away. “Yes,” he responded dejectedly, thinking on how worried they must be – more than that. Tech presumed he was thought to be dead, and he supposed he ought to be if not for this perplexing pirate. “At least I do not have to worry about them searching for my remains.”

“Hmm, indeed… “ Hondo rotated his wrist, turning the fish he had skewered on the end of his cutlass so as to roast them evenly throughout. “You mentioned earlier de source of de explosion… Perhaps dey think you nothing more dan ashes?” Gray eyes scrunched as if he was deep in thought, “I found you very far from dat… place on de mountain with de bad, bad men… Es dere a way down from dere dat leads intu de forest?”

The Weequay’s inflection was inquisitive, yet also riddled with skepticism. Tech felt a twinge of guilt, knowing that he may have to once more tell a little white lie, not sure how the pirate would react to knowing he was the inadvertent cause of his ship’s destruction. Although, they were beginning to build up a rapport. Hondo had said to “trust him.” Tech wondered, could he be trusted? He remembered at one point doubting Phee.

“Not precisely,” Tech started, though he was betrayed; his stomach growled, interrupting him. He was almost glad of it. Perhaps it would be enough of a distraction so as to derail the current topic of conversation.

Hondo’s head turned, slowly, as he simultaneously twirled the fish clockwise so as to cook its underbelly. “And just where es dat bland bar of excrement you were so excited about?”

“It seems I was incorrect,” Tech said, voice quieting, “I gave the last of my rations to Omega.”

Hondo tutted, laughing lightly as he shook his head. “You clones and your fancy names.” Then, he changed his tune, reminding himself of his past. “I suppose I cannot blame you, for I also chose my own name. You see, Weequay have no need for names outside our clan. Et es only when we live amongst non-Quay we take on a personal name. I liked Hondo. Et es a good, strong name.” A partial tale; Hondo would keep the more intimate details to himself.

Tech did not have anything to say to that, though he enjoyed learning this tidbit about his culture.

“Here!” Hondo stretched out his cutlass, blade first. “Eat,” he commanded sternly, Tech feeling somewhat apprehensive as the smell of fresh cooked fish invaded his nostrils.

“They are yours,” he responded.

“You were willing tu share, no? Well, tuday, so am I,” Hondo replied simply.

Tech hesitated a few seconds more, then extended his arm. It took him a moment, as he wanted to make sure not to cut himself on the pirate’s blade. “I thank you,” Tech stated in appreciation, removing one roasted fish for his consumption and leaving the other for the man who had made this meal possible; he took a bite. It was actually quite tasty.

Hondo severed a cord of flesh with his teeth, eating the fish from off his sword as if it was the leg of a nuna and the blade was its bone. The scoundrel studied the clone across from him, then took off his own helmet. He stood, then walked while eating, scooping up a generous measure of water within its bowl.

“It is good,” Tech offered in compliment, though he was not much of a conversationalist when it came to small talk. Still, he felt some sort of acknowledgement was warranted.

“It is, isn’t it?” Hondo agreed, walking back in Tech’s direction so as to douse the lapping flames into nothing but embers that would dwindle and die out. “Now, where were we?” he asked, setting his helmet on the ground. It was the first time Tech could see the whole of his head.

The clone paused mid-bite.

“Ah yes, so tell me, how did you escape? Dinner and a story - one of my favorite tings.”

Tech would take a moment to chew thoughtfully, his mind concocting something he could tell the pirate while also not fully incriminating himself. Lying was not a habit he wished to maintain, though he was still a mite unsure if he should tell the entire truth.

Tech took a breath, then began. “On the way out of the facility, we encountered some problems.”

“Yes, you mentioned dat…”

“Not only did the presence of Saw Guerrera complicate matters, but the TK Troopers did as well.”

“I can imagine,” Hondo affirmed with a mouthful of food.

“My brothers, sister and I were, how you say, making our ‘daring escape,’ when the railcar we were traveling in took on heavy fire and ground to a halt in midair.”

“A sister?!” Hondo asked enthusiastically. “Surely not biological?”

“Yes, Omega is an unmodified, enhanced female clone created from the genetic template of the Mandalorian bounty hunter Jango Fett.”

“Unmodified?!” Hondo nearly spat out what he had been chewing, “like Boba?”

“Boba. Yes. I have heard there was another.”

“Not just any other, my friend, Jango’s son.”

Tech paused, contemplating the complexity of that statement and what it could mean. Technically, this Boba would be another carbon copy of the donor, and ‘son’ was nothing more than an honorary title given to one particular clone left in Jango’s questionable care; he would be the Alpha to Omega. “I see.”

“Du you?” Hondo asked, leaning forward. “Why, what a marvelous ting. I wonder, did he know? Did Jango know he had a… daughter?”

Tech did not have the answer to that question. “I am unsure, though evidence points to no, as Omega has never mentioned her—” he paused, not liking the inaccuracy of the descriptor he was about to use, “—father. She has also never mentioned interacting with the template when he was living on Kamino.”

“Hmm…” Hondo hummed, taking another bite, “so very interesting. Anyway—" the pirate would save his thoughts for another time, “—continue,” he encouraged.

Tech did not want to continue, but he would do so anyway. “I was steps away from rejoining my squad when I was forced back by enemy fire; I left them temporarily in order to restore the power to the railway, but ultimately was unable to reach them.”

“Ah yes, de rail entu de mountain. I believe I passed under it on my way en,” Hondo interjected. “How unfortunate,” he added; Tech would be reluctant to confirm Hondo felt any true sympathy for his plight.

“The tail end of the railcar was pulled from off its track; it was weighing the other down, and I was caught beneath it, as during the explosion I regrettably slipped.”

Hondo’s eyes were widening incrementally, increasing in circumference with every new detail. “Yes, yes—”

“I was… trapped on the other side, hanging by a literal thread as Imperial V-wings would inevitably make another pass. Not only that, but a second car had stalled on the track opposite; it was filled with Imperial soldiers. The tram would have pulled all of us down had I not disconnected its coupler from the other car.”

“Annnd… how did you accomplish dis?” Hondo asked, jaw working as he nibbled at another bite of roasted fish.

“Plan 99,” Tech said, a twist of sadness wracking his heart as he envisioned the devastated expressions of his siblings as he fell to what he thought would be his demise.

Hondo waited; the forlorn tone coating the clone’s voice was a clear indication that this was indeed a sore subject. The pirate could be patient when he wanted to be; it always paid off in the end.

“Self-sacrifice,” Tech further explained, “for the benefit of the squad.”

Hondo seemed to understand, his gaze hardening as his demeanor became all too serious. “A fall from dat height would… How did you…” he trailed off; Tech wondered if he had just answered his own question. Still, he thought it best to tell the truth regardless. 

“I severed the connection. The railcar fell with me. I landed on top of your ship. The velocity at which you were traveling provided enough distance so that you did not suffer a direct hit, however your engines sustained enough damage that you lost control and ultimately crashed.”

Hondo’s face radiated displeasure, askance eyes tapering into pinched slits, yet for a moment he remained quiet; Tech took the opportunity to try and soften the blow.

“I dove over the edge at the last possible second in order to increase my chances of survival; I fell through the trees and wound up on the forest floor. That is when I awoke to find you attempting to rob me of my boot. It was a calamitous series of events,” Tech concluded, at least satisfied that overall he felt less guilty now that everything was out in the open.

Nothing disturbed the silence that sprawled between them except for the effervescence of the stream behind them. Tech could not read faces particular well, and much less so when he did not have his goggles. After a few more agonizing seconds, birds scattered as Ohnaka let his anger flow freely out of his open mouth.

“What!” the pirate shot up, jerking his arm downward with such intensity as he stood that the rest of his meal slid off his cutlass and hit the ground with a dull, muted smack. Then, he brandished the blade outward, the tip mere centimeters from Tech’s nose. “Den dis is all your fault!”

Tech could only agree. “It was not intentional,” he said, forcing himself to remain calm.

“My ship … my men! Dey are all dead because of you and your brother’s shenanigans!”

“I am sorry.”

“Sorry does not even begin tu cover et! And!” Hondo’s arm bat at the air in his exasperation, though he was gracious enough not to cut Tech’s head clean off with the sword held tightly in his hand. “You made me believe et was de Empire! Dat es almost as bad as lying!”

Tech found it hard to believe the pirate had never himself lied to anyone, though he was at a loss at how to thoroughly apologize when the whole ordeal bad been out of his control. “You were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, or, the right time, depending.”

“Truer words have nevvvver been spoken!” he practically spat, Hondo taking to reclaiming his socks and boots right after he hastily sheathed his sword and retrieved his helmet.

“What are you doing?” Tech asked, a touch of nervousness lacquering his inquiry.

“Leaving! You! Here!” Hondo proclaimed, his outrage present in his hostile tone and erratic body language.

Tech shifted, retrieving his bucket to place it on his head, as if he himself might assay to stand and follow. “We had an agreement,” he informed him, as if he had forgotten.

“Dat was before I knew your gallivanting across de galaxy cost me my most favorite ship! And lives!” Hondo idled for a moment, a look of sorrow stricken across his face. “Fortune and Glory, will we ever meet again…”

Tech stood, ineptly refitting his pack, as Hondo began to march in the direction of what he assumed was the lommite mine without him. “I do not wish to be left here on my own,” he called after his retreating form, swallowing down the hint of anxiety that had begun to spread throughout his chest, joining the ache of his ribs.

“You told me to trust you,” Tech emphasized in a last ditch effort to appeal to his humanity, limping past the remains of the campfire as he ambulated awkwardly forward as quick as his legs allowed.

“And so you did!” the pirate said with a dry, humorless laugh. “Dat, my friend,” Hondo shot back bitterly, “was your second mistake.”

Tech could do nothing as he was left alone, a swirl of crimson the last thing he would witness as Hondo Ohnaka abruptly departed, taking what little hope Tech had left of getting off this planet along with him.

[stars-written]

MUSE AESTHETICS

LIST 3-5 THINGS FOR EACH CATEGORY THAT YOU ASSOCIATE WITH YOUR MUSE

EMOTIONS / FEELINGS:

A deep-seated yearning to belong

The desperation of a man drowning

The naivety of inexperience

Challenging so-called order

Hard-won acceptance of self

GREETINGS / SAYINGS:

"How can I help?"

"Despite what you may have heard, I'm nothing like him. Or him."

"Well... that could have gone better."

COLORS:

Yellow-orange skies over Felucia

Red-splotched pink of nysillin

A deep earthy brown cup of tea

Intense blue eyes that pierce the soul

SCENTS:

Jungle moss

Well-kept leather

Lilac-scented shampoo

The faintest hint of sweat

ATTIRE:

Dark grey robes

A brown hooded cloak

Lilac, flowing dresses

Deep green tunic

OBJECTS:

A blue-bladed, rose-gold and black-hilted lightsaber

A small, Mustafarian diamond ring, kept locked away

A green and pink hair comb whose handle is fashioned out of lommite

VICES / BAD HABITS:

Chewing/stimming with her lips when nervous

Meloorun melon wine

Telosian whiskey

BODY LANGUAGE:

Fingers twined in/near her lap

Running her fingers through her hair

Back straight, poised

AESTHETICS:

The persistence of time, ever marching

The shock of cold sweat on heated skin

Warm wet circles; like a mother's kiss on your first broken heart

SONGS:

Could Have Been Me - The Struts

Fighter - Christina Aguilera

Fight Song - Rachel Platten

Crucified - Army of Lovers

TAGGED BY: @valorums (thank youuuuu)

TAGGING: anyone who hasn't done this because y'all i been OUT for a MINUTE and have no idea who might have done this already

[strangeshipper]

Kas'im fights rancors at Lehon Star Wars :: Drew Karpyshyn, Darth Bane: Path of Destruction, ch.23

[There is only one rancor in the novel, but I draw two of them just for composition]

"Kas'im wasn't surprised in the least by the ambush. He'd sensed the rancor's presence from several hundred meters away, just as it had surely caught his scent and stalked him from some great distance. He met the creature's charge with calm, ruthless efficiency. (...) Kas'im twisted and dodged, leaping over one attack, then dropping to the ground to roll beneath another. He moved so fast he would have been nothing but a blur had the rancor not been blinded by rage. And with each evasion he struck another blow, whittling away at the mountain of sinew and flesh like a master sculptor working a lump of lommite. The rancor floundered, lumbering and stumbling as if it were performing some drunken spacer's dance. In contrast, Kas'im was quick and precise. With each passing second his opponent slowed, its strength ebbing away. At last, with a forlorn groan, the beast toppled forward and lay motionless."

[pelihomppaa]

Uusi alku

MCL NewGen -avajaiset oli eilen ja kerkesin jopa pelaamaan ekan jakson. Pelasin aluksi puhelimella ja navigoinnissa oli haasteensa kun puhelinta piti käännellä jatkuvasti eri suuntiin eikä peliruutu näkynyt kokonaisena yms. Sen jälkeen koneelle siirtyessä kuvaruutu oli ihan massiivinen, suorastaan pelottaa miten lähellä naamaa noi ukot on lähikuvissa. XD

^Vähän hassua että pelintekijät joutuu huomauttamaan erikseen tämmöisestä. Varmaankin tarkoituksenaan blokata kritiikkiä kun pelaajaa on "varoitettu" ettei peli pysty vastaamaan kaikilta osin heidän toiveita ja odotuksiaan - minkä pitäisi olla ihan luonnollista.

^Dominoivat luonteenpiirteet ovat kiva idea ja mahtia että niihin liittyvät dialogit ovat halvempia! Olisin tosin toivonut että tarjolla olisi enemmän kuin vain kolme vaihtoehtoa. Meinasin aluksi tehdä tyypistäni rebelin mut jäin sitte pelkäämään sen vaikutusta lommeihin, joten otin turvallisen sweetin dominoivaksi sekä myös siivun energisyyttä.

^Eihän noin saa tehdä! Vaihdoin myös tässä vaiheessa Takin nimen Alfrediksi, vaikka se on tyttö ja ankan sijasta hanhi, mut ihs. .-D

^Kiintoisaa että dialogien merkittävyys on korostettu, tästä on paljon apua lommin kohotukseen ja kuvien lunastukseen yms.

^Lol, hyvin mahdollista koska Devon on kohteeni ainakin nyt alkuvaiheessa. Mut en oo vielä lyönyt valintaani lukkoon, kattoo nyt alkaisko joku muu kiinnostaa enemmän. Vaikeaa ku kukaan deiteistä ei juurikaan innosta. Dx

^Ui on se soma! Alkuun lemmikkihanhi vaikutti aika tylsältä idealta mut täytyy myöntää että häneen ehti tässä tutoriointivaiheessa vähä tykästymään. .-3

^Keijutäti Agathan uusi ruumiillistuma. XD

^Aattelin ettei Thomasin kanssa synkkaisi yhtään mut nyt hän kutsuu hahmoa kauniiksi jo ykkösjaksossa (vaikka se ei täydestä sydämestä tullutkaan lol.) Tykkään muuten kun muutama edeltävä dialogi jää "talteen", tää on superkätevä jos vaikka päivittäin pelaisi AP:t ja pystyisi nopeesti kertaamaan mihin keskustelu katkesi.

^Onnistiko kuvan kanssa? Ei. xD Mut kiva että peli antaa palautetta missä meni vikaan et voisi sitten uusiessa helpommin pärjätä. En kyl oo kiinnostunu uusimaan saati ostamaan kuvia.

^Devon ei kyl tämän ekan jakson pohjalta ollut superkiinnostava kun jutut pyöri ainakin toistaiseksi pelkkien työjuttujen ympärillä. Oli kyl huomaavaista häneltä järjestää hahmoa varten tervetulijais-meeting! Devon on tällä hetkellä yhdessä Thomasin kanssa korkeimmalla lom-lukemissa (+10).

^Jakson jälkeen aukesi vielä hauska yhteenvetosivu jakson "saavutuksista", missä näki lommit, lunastetut vaatteet sekä persoonallisuus-dialogien myötä tulleet muutokset. Jakson jälkeen deitit olivat lähettäneet hahmolle tekstiviestejä AHHH tällainen ominaisuuden ois pitänyt olla jo aiemmissa peleissä. Aika kiva et deitit kirjoittelee uusien jaksojen odottelun välissä!

Eka jakso…

Oli ihan viihdyttävää pelata vaikka aika meni lähinnä uusiin henkilöihin tutustuessa kun jatkuvasti ruudulle pomppi uusia naamoja. Tykkäsin aamiaiskohtauksesta hahmon perheen kanssa ja melkein sääli jos hänen äiti ja sisko lähtee heti pois, oisin ihan hyvin voinut pitää Tashan seuranani. Hauskasti hahmoni ulkonäkö täsmää muihin perheenjäseniin vaikken edes tarkoituksella taktikoinut. .-D Olisin halunnut saada tietää jotain konkreettista hahmon uudesta työnkuvasta, nyt allekirjoiteltiin vaan sopimuksia ja myönnettiin kulkukortteja. Pelkään et tässä käy niin kuin Eldaryassa kun hahmolla oli voimat mut yhä epäselvää mihin se oikeestaan voi niitä hyödyntää. xD Deittien kanssa ei ollut mitään kovin ihmeellistä ja tuntui et kaikki vältteli seuraani vaikka sain kyl suurimman osan kanssa plussia, ainoastaan Royn kanssa menee huonosti. Ja en tosiaan vielä tässä vaiheessa oo oikein kenestäkään kiinnostunut.

Sit vielä muuta...

Aika sopiva yhdistelmä vanhaa ja uutta. Mukana on tuttuja elementtejä mut sitten on myös paljon kaikkea uutta ekstratekemistä ja tuntuu että tutoriaaleja saa eteensä vähän joka nurkasta.

Pelissä on neljää erilaista valuuttaa: AP:t pelissä etenemiseen ja ostoksiin ja sit kaikenmaailman muita ekstroja, joilla voi esim. ostaa erikoisdialogeja, missattuja kuvia ja muita pelietuja. Tuntuu jopa hieman sekavalta enkä oikein tiedä miten mitäkin olisi järkevä käyttää, todennäkösesti päädyn vaan muuttamaan kaiken lisä-AP:ksi. En tykkää että AP ja rahat on yhdistetty, eipä oikein voi käydä kaupan puolella mikäli tahtoo edetä joskus pelissäkin. Aika mielenkiintoista että sydämiä voi saada pelikavereilta, mulla ei tosin ketään ole kontaktilistalla eikä oo motia verkostoitua. Päivittäiset pisteet pitää käydä hakemassa hölmösti kalenterista enkä eilen tajunnut lol.

Peli tarjoaa myös mahdollisuuden ostaa VIP-jäsenyyden etuineen.

En oo ihan varma tästä ideasta yhdistää deittailu ja muoti/sisustuste-teemaiset kisat. Enpä tiiä tuleeko niihin osallistuttua jos en kykene ostamaan mitään ja pelkillä ilmaisjutuilla tuskin pärjää + vaatekaappi on jotenkin vaikeaselkoinen ku siihen yhdistyy kauppa ja pelkään ostavani vahingossa jotain. xp Tosi sääli et lintukamulle on tarjolla pelkkiä asukokonaisuuksia, jotain yksittäisiä asusteita voisi käyttää mut en haluu ylipukee.

Hmm, aloittaisko tässä illan ratoksi kakkosjaksoa..? ,-)

[vivalavillain]

"You have my word, your Majesties, I will do my utmost to keep your daughter safe. If the Confederacy is after her, they'd never dream of looking for her in the Telos system. She'll be perfectly safe, well-kept, and happy."

Xanatos sat across the table from his royal hosts, each donning a look of concern. The elder, Opalis's king, shared a look with his wife before returning to look at his guest.

"And all you ask in return is for... mining rights? Nothing else?"

The dark Jedi tsk'ed slightly in disappointment, but offered a reassuring smile.

"The honor of hosting the Princess Estrella in my home-- even in secret-- is more than payment enough. However... the considerable harm it would put my people in should she ever be discovered is certainly worth mentioning. My intel has told me that Opalis has naturally occurring lommite veins running through the cave systems on one of its moons as well as in the southern most continent. If you'd permit me the exclusive rights to mine the ore and keep whatever else I might find there, it would make our arrangement more than worthwhile. It would permit me the opportunity to keep my people safe by providing the funds we need for weapons, food, and medical supplies, as well as paying to keep our army well-prepared for any possible eventuality."

Turning his attention to the woman in question, he smiled a little brighter and gestured toward her.

"My lady, what say you of this arrangement? Your life is in danger here but on Telos IV, you'd be cared for and your identity kept hidden as my guest. I would hate to make this deal with your mother and father and not allow you to make your own decision. If there's anything I can do to make you feel more at ease, please don't hesitate to ask."

{@opaliscoeur for our plotted starter.}

[umifiant]

Insane how twitter took such a large blow over a temporary data limit. Was everyone just waiting to stick with the site but interrupting the doomscrolling is where we drew the line? Seeing them say he's lommiting data usage and then seeing 2 hour podcasts on the least podcast friendly app ever is so dumb.

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

Maul in the Plagueis novel

Well, this is driving me up the wall. I didn’t expect to get any of Maul’s perspective in this novel, but now that I have, I have thoughts. It’s a fairly short little glimpse - I’m not sure if there will be more since I haven’t completed the book yet - but even though it’s only just three pages long, there is so much to unpack.

First of all, Sidious and Maul are such a messed up relationship (for lack of a better word, since all the emotions seem one-sided from Maul’s part.)

A direct outcome of what Maul had accomplished on Dorvalla, Lommite Limited and InterGalactic Ore had merged and been taken over by the Trade Federation, which in turn had resulted in Nute Gunray’s promotion to the company’s seven-member directorate. In further conversations with the viceroy, Darth Sidious had demanded that the Neimoidians willingly sacrifice one of their Lucrehulk freighters, along with a shipment of aurodium ingots, as a means of funding an Outer Rim insurgent group known as the Nebula Front. Maul had been nonplussed by his Master’s decision to reveal himself to the group’s leader, as Darth Sidious had done in his initial communication with Gunray; then dismayed to learn that the leader—a human named Havac—had betrayed Darth Sidious by attempting to assassinate Supreme Chancellor Valorum on Coruscant. The realization that his Master could be deceived, that he wasn’t infallible, had had a curious effect on Maul. It had caused him unease, a sudden concern for his Master’s safety that had intruded on his ability to still his mind and find reassurance in the dark side. It was not fear—for fear was something alien to Maul’s makeup—but a troublesome disquiet. Disquiet for the being he had once tried to kill, and was perhaps expected to kill. All these weeks later he would still sometimes spend hours wandering through the LiMerge Building like a house pet picking up on the scent of its owner ...

More under the cut, since this got way longer than I intended.

The attachment that Maul has to Sidious is probably twisted a la the Sith way™, but it’s still upsetting to see that Maul does care about his master and outright admits to being unsettled at the thought that something might happen to Sidious - while Sidious just regards him entirely as a tool. We do get Sidious’ perspective on Maul on a few occasions (off the top of my head I can think of Shadow Hunter, but I haven’t read Wrath or Saboteur yet), and while he does acknowledge Maul’s strengths and weaknesses, it’s a very detached and clinical kind of appraisement. Something like, “Oh yes, hubris is his flaw. And he’s impetuous, it sometimes blinds him. But it’s true that he’s strong in the Dark Side, and full of rage and hate. Good stuff.” Considering Sidious took in Maul when he was less than a year old, and then abused him since Maul can remember, this kind of dynamic is chilling. 

I also think it’s pretty clear (and tragic) just how warped Maul’s concept of autonomy is. We see it from his point of view throughout the books such as Lockdown, Shadow Hunter, etc.; the way he’s always motivated by a desire to succeed, not because success brings him any particular joy, but because he’ll most certainly be punished if he fails. And he’s so nonchalant at the thought of being punished! It almost makes you believe he’s not really afraid of it, because his entire attitude is, “If I fail, I’ll be punished, and I would have deserved it.” Like, to him, retribution for not succeeding is just the natural way of things. He doesn’t even realize such actions - even the threat of them - are a horrible violation of his autonomy as a person. He is so awfully and casually accepting of any violence and abuse that Sidious inflicts on him; I mean, this guy unironically likens himself to a house pet. Sniffing around for his owner. Aka Sidious. What the fuck.

And the thing is, on a subliminal level, Maul is afraid of disappointing Sidious, of the horrible punishment that will follow. He wouldn’t think about it so much otherwise. But he’s so emotionally stunted that he doesn’t register that it’s fear he’s feeling. “Fear was something alien to [his] makeup” my ass, he’s felt it every day of his life, it’s just that he can’t make heads or tails of it. 

Then there’s this: 

The rejection, too, had prompted questions of a novel sort. Of all the beings in the galaxy, the Dark Lord had chosen him to serve as his apprentice and eventual successor, and yet Darth Sidious had neglected to equip him with the very tools he would need to carry the Sith imperative forward. For all his attempts to familiarize himself with the political landscape and with criminal organizations—some of which were allied to Darth Sidious, others antithetical to his plans—he had a limited understanding of precisely how the galaxy worked. He grasped that the Sith’s war was with the Jedi Order rather than the Republic, but he had no real inkling as to how revenge was to be meted out.

Again. Maul thinking he means something to Sidious, that Sidious considers him his successor, someone worthy of passing down his knowledge and power to and entrusting with the future of the Sith. And Sidious does not consider him that. I’m pretty sure the Darth Plagueis novel makes it clear that Plagueis and Sidious have no intention of passing on anything to anyone. They regard themselves as the pinnacle of the Rule of Two era Sith, and their plans involve bringing themselves, and no one else, to ultimate power. It’s also explicitly stated that Maul was trained as an assassin who would do the dirty grunge work for them, not a legitimate apprentice or successor. They obtained an infant that wasn’t even a year old yet and decided they would brutally shape this baby into muscle for them to abuse, manipulate, and use. And discard, if he gets in the way! It’s... gosh.

And idk... the part about Maul not having a cohesive picture of how the galaxy works - I suppose you could say he’s naive in that regard - is disturbing. Keeping Maul “sheltered” (again, for lack of a better term) from that kind of know-how seems extremely intentional on Sidious’ part? It reminds me very unpleasantly of a grooming tactic: isolating your victim from everything else except yourself to make them totally dependent on you, keeping them from being able to think through and form their own opinions, etc. In Maul’s case, it feels like Sidious kept him ignorant of the world at large, so he could in turn keep Maul completely obedient and make sure he knew nothing outside of the life that Sidious gave him. Ick. 

What, then, if—beyond contemplation—something untoward should befall his Master? Was there a contingency plan? Unlike Darth Sidious, who masqueraded as Republic Senator Palpatine and debated complex issues in the Senate, Maul lacked a secret identity. With his yellow eyes and horned head a black-and-red mask of arcane sigils, it was all he could do to prowl the fringes of The Works in the dead of night without instilling fear in nearly every being whose gaze he caught.

Once more! Maul being worried about Palpatine’s safety when we know the concern is not even remotely mutual. And yeah, I guess you could say that Maul’s anxiety at the idea of something happening to Sidious is borne of pragmatism; like, “what will happen to the Sith plan then”, and I do think he’s apprehensive of that too. But the fact that he calls the idea of Sidious being harmed “beyond contemplation”, as in, he can’t even imagine it, seems to indicate a strong level of emotional attachment. I think it makes sense - Sidious is almost all Maul has ever known. The concept of losing his entire world and the person who gives him purpose must be disconcerting to some degree. And this psychological dependence is probably exactly what Sidious was aiming for. 

Maul had expected his life to change when Darth Sidious had relocated him to Coruscant. But in many ways the move struck him as a return to his days as a combat trainee on Orsis, waiting to be allowed to fight, receiving praise and rewards, only to be commanded to train harder. The occasional visits from his Master had allowed him to endure the isolation and superficiality of his existence. Only when his instruction in the Sith arts had begun, had he felt singular, purposeful ...

But he wasn’t entirely without hope.

On occasion Darth Sidious would hint at a mission of utmost importance that they would need to carry out together; one that would call on them to make use of all their powers. He had yet to provide details, even with regard to Maul’s studies. But he continued to imply that the mission was looming. And more and more, Maul sensed that it was somehow linked to his Master’s homeworld, Naboo.

Well, again I will parrot my previous point that Maul is emotionally attached to Sidious, that Sidious raised him to be emotionally attached to him, when conversely he only sees Maul as a weapon. But building on that, a lot of Maul’s attachment also seems to come from the fact that his Sith training under Sidious gives him a sense of purpose. Which makes sense. As far as he knows, he’s been raised to succeed his master and become the primary lord of the Sith, continuing their legacy. And he’s dedicated to it. So of course any (perceived) preparation for that is going to be what he looks forward to. And once again, I am going to reiterate that it’s supremely fucked up that Maul was manipulated in such a way: Sidious gave him a purpose that he never actually intended Maul to serve, made sure Maul considered his own identity and self-worth dependent on that fake purpose, and used Maul and his desire to fulfill that fake purpose (and by extension his desire to prove his identity and self-worth) to further his (and Plagueis’) plans. 

Oh, and before I go to my next point, I want to emphasize real quick: Maul is ranging from a teenager to a young adult in the Darth Plagueis novel. At the very oldest, he’s twenty-two in these quotes. That’s... I can’t even begin to explain how screwed it is; that he’s that young and thinks like that, is accustomed to thinking like that. That he’s only worth anything if he can accomplish his missions. That if he fails, of course punishment should follow. That he’s like a “house pet”, searching for his “owner”. I... wow.

Moving a little into the future, I also thinks this idea of “purpose” explains why Maul has such a burning grudge against Obi-Wan after being cut in half. Of course a part of it is, you know, the pure fact that he’s been bisected. Then it’s what he was forced to endure in Lotho Minor. But more intrinsically, Maul viewed himself solely through the lens of: “I am the successor of the Sith and my master’s legacy” and “I must be useful, I must accomplish something”. When Obi-Wan defeated him, Maul lost all of that. Sidious abandons him without a second thought, destroying Maul’s self-perceived identity as his successor and the successor of the Sith. And in Maul’s mind, he failed. He was not useful. And for a long time it must have seemed like he’s never going to be useful again, because he has no legs and he has no way off of Lotho Minor. 

Not to mention, his master threw him away. Didn’t come after him. Maul was forgotten and the galaxy moved on, like he never even mattered. I think that’s the crux of why Maul is so embittered: that because of his defeat at Obi-Wan’s hands, he became well and truly nothing. He lost everything that gave him purpose. And like... it’s not exactly wrong of him to be so furious? Of course, Obi-Wan was aiming to kill him. It was never his intention to make Maul suffer. But the fact remains that he did - that instead of just killing him, he did something that was, to Maul, worse: he took away all the meaning in his life. And Maul is angry and bitter and loathes him for it. 

I always appreciated the depth that The Clone Wars gave Maul - it was probably the start of me liking his character. But the books take it to another level; he’s mindblowingly complex but also cohesive and you can almost see how the circumstances of his early life shaped him into the adult he became. With the context of his childhood and adolescence, all the violence he resorts to as an adult... it’s less horrifying and more tragic, in my opinion. Because I feel like there’s almost no other way he could have turned out. He had absolutely no one healthy to support him or to model himself off of. Children need stimulation and warmth and love in their earliest years, or their brain outright develops differently. Maul never had that - all he’s known since he was an infant is pain, abuse, and punishment. It’s interesting, because while I have seen lots of characters with messages like - “Being abused doesn’t give you the excuse to hurt others in turn”, which is true - Maul’s message is less about moral judgement than it is just straight up... sad. To me, it seems to simply be “What else could you possibly, rationally, have done?” It doesn’t justify his actions, far from it, but I find it hard to condemn him for being violent and hateful when he’s only known violence and hatred since he was an infant. Like, what else can you logically expect? He’s hardly going to make kindness/compassion/mercy/etc. a primary value when he’s never been shown an ounce of it in his entire life. 

[sl-walker]

Occupation, Part 22

Read prior parts here.  Sign up to be tagged when this fic (or any of mine!) updates here.  Read it on AO3 here.  Reblogs go much further than likes; please support your content creators and reblog!

--

Patch Bruit -- former chief of operations for Lommite Limited -- was sitting tied up hand and foot in the Scimitar’s passenger section.  Blindfolded, but alive.

He was the only one who did escape with his life from the whole sordid affair.  Maul had arranged it such that Lommite Limited, InterGalactic Ore and the Toom Clan all wiped each other out -- at least the Dorvalla operations, if not the corporations of the first two -- but in the end, he couldn’t actually make himself kill Bruit.

The man appeared sloppy and undisciplined on the surface, but when pushed, he was canny and clever and, most importantly, brave.  Maul didn’t feel right with ending him, even though he was the last witness left; still, thanks to his own disguise, he wasn’t worried about Bruit identifying him, and given the recording he planted before leaving Dorvalla -- incriminating the man and his counterpart in InterGalactic Ore in arranging the mass sabotage and destruction that took place, which was not far from the truth -- Bruit returning to his old company would no doubt be the end of his life.  If not in one way, then in another or another.

So, Maul decided to take him and drop him off somewhere else where the man could hopefully fade into the background of the galaxy.

Now, on approach to Llanic -- which was a smuggler’s port, the perfect sort of place to put someone who needed to disappear without identification until they could rebuild a new identity -- Maul crouched opposite of him and reached up to pull the hood off of his head.  It had doubtless been an uncomfortable twenty-four hours for the man, but it was still better than being dead.

Bruit winced away from the light, faint crow’s feet showing at the corners of his eyes.  His gray-shot hair was in disarray.  “My karking neck,” he said, voice gritty, before squinting at Maul.

“Better a sore neck than your life,” Maul answered, tilting his head.

Bruit barked a laugh, though there wasn’t any mirth to it.  The emotional radiation coming off of him pinged around between despair and disbelief and relief; a little of all of those.  “Does that mean the rest of them are dead?”

“Yes.”  Maul saw no point to lying about it.

Bruit made a mournful little sound.  It wasn’t too much of a surprise; while he didn’t seem desperately in love with his career, he did seem to care about the people in his employ.  Maul didn’t really think too hard about them; they had, after all, decided to wage war against another company and his involvement was only to put pieces into play.  The final choices to go fight and murder one another -- via the Toom Clan, then more directly -- had still belonged to the respective lommite mining companies regardless of his maneuvering.

Maul eyed the man, feeling some measure of unwitting sympathy.  It wasn’t like he didn’t know well, by now, what being kidnapped out of one’s life felt like.  However poor that life was.  “There is little point to dwelling on it,” he said, reaching over beside him to grab and uncap a water bottle, stick a straw in it and offer Bruit a sip. “I’m going to leave you on Llanic with some currency.  It should be enough for you to figure out something else to do with yourself.”

Bruit wasn’t squinting as much now, eyes apparently adjusting to the light. “Just like that?” he asked, though he did lean forward and awkwardly managed to get the straw in his lips and several long swallows of water after he did.  He drank without ever taking his eyes off of Maul, then released the straw to say, "Hell's teeth, you're just a fuckin' kid, who put you up to this?"

Maul was rolling his eyes -- and not helping his case any -- before he was even aware of doing it. "I'm not a kid.  I'm twenty-one."

Just turned, in fact.  The reminder of that fact brought him up short, even crouched right there in front of the man he had kidnapped.  The jolt that came with it hit like a hammer’s blow to his sternum.

He had now lived a whole year of his life without Obi-Wan.

It wasn’t that he ever forgot.  But he maintained a stubborn sort of hope even in the face of passing time.

And he had not really realized what a whole year of his life meant.

Bruit shifted uncomfortably, and Maul forced his face blank again, plowing forward before the man could say anything or draw attention to Maul's momentary lapse of composure.  "Anyway, we'll be landing in about thirty minutes," he said, brusque, rising to his feet to go recycle the water bottle and to remove himself from Bruit's unnervingly sympathetic look.

He wished it was that easy to remove himself from the realizations he’d just had.

.

.

Maul left Patch Bruit alive and well on Llanic, but the reopened knife wounds on his hearts lingered.

@shadowmaat​ -  @doorsclosingslowly​ - @emphasisonthehomo​ - @blackat-greneys​ - @vengeful-nerd​ - @sammelbegriff​ - @kenobispunk​ - @sundavr​ - @mock-ing-bird​ -  @fancandy77​ - @geekling007​ - @nightsibling​ - @btwxsixesandsevens​ -  @whymylife-cordelia​

[mortallyclearwonderland]

Star Wars Alien Species - Elom

Eloms evolved on the frigid, mineral-rich desert world of Elom along with the Elomin, which were a tall, humanoid race with horns similar to those of the Zabrak. The two species lived for centuries in ignorance of each other—the technological Elomin lived on the surface while the primitive society of the Eloms developed deep beneath the planet's surface. The Eloms were believed to have died out when the world turned to permanent drought.

The Eloms, however, did not always live in their city-like caverns—they originally lived on the surface, but when the water levels dropped dangerously low over the course of several millennia, the Eloms gradually developed into a subterranean species. Their hard claws were able to unearth succulent roots and natural springs, giving the primitive Elom society a source of water, and a chance to survive the potentially fatal climate shift. The Eloms settled in huge caves, illuminated by exotic phosphorescent crystals. These crystals made the transition of living underground far easier for the Elom, but their vision deteriorated over several generations, until it reached the point that bright light almost blinded Eloms, and they only ever ventured towards the surface during darkness.

When Old Republic scouts first discovered the planet, the Elomin made contact with them, trading their rich mineral deposits for large amounts of water—both the Elomin and Eloms were suffering from a terrible drought, and although the water helped save the Elomin, many Eloms died during the drought as they were unknown to the outsiders.

Elomin explorers found evidence of Elom caves in the rugged A'driannamieq Mountains. The Elomins had very rigid perceptions of order and structure in their lives, and the notion of their planet being inhabited by another species was extremely difficult for them to come to terms with. The Elomin explorers did not report their findings to the Elomin Council, and the two species continued to live with no interaction.

Several centuries after the Republic first landed on their native planet, Eloms were discovered by the Elomin after a mining accident. The Elomin had been mining lommite, an important element in the manufacture of transparisteel, when a shaft collapsed into a tunnel inhabited by Eloms. The Eloms gained the Elomin's trust after they rescued the group of injured miners. The Elom were uninterested in what the Elomin had to offer, preferring their pacifist lifestyle to technology and exploration. The Elomin originally thought the Eloms were a trainable species, using them as cheap slave labor in the mines; however, once Republic xenosociologists studied them, they were discovered to be sentient. After months of negotiating with the Republic and despite the objections of the Elomin, the Eloms were awarded territorial rights to a large tract of desert and full sentient species status, to which they were quietly pleased. The Elomin's resentment of Eloms soon passed—the peaceful, unsophisticated Eloms had accepted their neighbors with open arms, despite their previous poor treatment. As well as that, the Elom were uninterested in getting involved in the Elomin's offworld business dealings—they were content to live as they had done for many centuries. For the most part, the two species lived as they had done before discovering each other—the Eloms lived in their subterranean caverns while the Elomin lived in industrial settlements above ground, both keeping their distance.

When the Empire rose to power, the Eloms, as well as the Elomin, were turned into slaves, and the land rights and treaties given to them by the Republic were revoked. The quiet cave dwellers once again found their world ripped apart. Those that had evaded the Empire retreated to deeper, darker caves, and the young Eloms would often stage "mining accidents," rescuing Elomin slaves and leading them to their caves. The older Eloms often frowned upon this recklessness. The Imperials often hunted Eloms for sport; one of those who did so was Kurlen Flennic, later a Moff in the Imperial Remnant. Because of the actions of the Empire, many Eloms were sympathetic to the Rebel Alliance, who sent commandos to Elom to help them liberate entire slave camps, leading them to their massive cavernous cities hidden at the center of deep labyrinths.

Following the creation of the New Republic, Eloms and Elomin became more integrated—the Elomin were extremely grateful to their neighbors for rescuing so many of them during the Emperor's reign. Many Elom youths left to seek their fortune above ground or among the stars, though they often became criminals. During the New Republic's regime, the Shi'ido anthropologist Mammon Hoole included an entry on the Eloms in his publication The Essential Guide to Alien Species.

Eloms were an extremely peaceful and unsophisticated species who lived deep beneath the surface of their homeworld. Strict herbivores, the Eloms were content to live in their underground homes, raising their young and harvesting hard-shell rockmelons and crystalweeds. The Eloms never held a grudge against the Elomin, despite the mistreatment they suffered at the hands of their horned counterparts. Throughout their history, Eloms developed a strong sense of community along with a great need for belonging. Although they were highly intelligent and ambitious, Eloms often underestimated the capacity for wrongdoing exhibited by other species and therefore were often able to be manipulated by others to do their bidding. Eloms were generally easygoing, kind, forgiving and eager to learn. Eloms organized themselves into small towns, called cseria. Every year, each cseria would meet to resolve problems and trade goods. During the reign of the Empire, the cseria tried to prevent their communities from being dragged into war.

Eloms were short, stocky mammalian bipeds with tough skin under a thick, oily pelt of dark and stringy fur. They had several layers of fat, which had evolved to capture moisture—this meant they were especially equipped for life in the harsh, desert environment of their homeworld. Eloms' hands and feet each had hard, hooked claws, perfect for digging, and prehensile toes on each foot, which could be used as grip tools. The species' hands and feet were also covered with thick calluses which were a direct result from the rigorous lives they lived. Because of their subterranean existence, in which phosphorescent crystals were the only source of light, Eloms had exceptional night vision. However, their small, beady, dark eyes, which were located on the far sides of their faces, were easily overpowered by bright light, sometimes to the extent that it incapacitated them. The sturdy beings also had two rock hard, sharp tusks protruding from their mouths, with thick, pouchy jowls in which they were able to store food. Averaging at a height of roughly one and a half meters when fully grown, Eloms evolved in a dry environment, and their biological systems were adapted for desert survival. Eloms had the ability to move quickly, even when laden down with a heavy load. Some Eloms were also known to have had long, white tails which almost reached their feet.

They average 1.4 meters or 4.6 feet tall as adults.

Eloms age at the following stages:

1 - 11 Child

12 - 17 Young Adult

18 - 49 Adult

50 - 65 Middle Age

66 - 89 Old

Examples of Names: Broig, Gossof, Oront, Qurgg, Skona, Trugbuz, Ukskul.

Languages: Elom was the native language of the Elom species. The structure of the Elom mouth makes it difficult for them to speak Basic, but reading and writing are far easier to them.

[slightlysuspect]

The Master and His Student

Ahsoka comes to Naboo to catch up with her old master, and tell him of her adventures.

Finally I made it to Naboo. I didn't think Master Windu would ever let me leave. All week I had to babysit those kids. What's keeping Master Yoda from doing that? At least I finally escaped, and Ahsoka should be arriving in Theed soon. I wonder how independence is treating her.

"Master!" I look behind me and see Ahsoka approaching.

"Hey Snips. How ya been?"

She groans and I can sense that a lot of venting is about to ensue. "Well most recently I ran into Hondo." Ah the pirates. They've definitely given me a fair bit of trouble throughout the years.

"Oh yea? What was he trying to do?"

"He was stealing Lommite from the Elomin! I tried to stop him but..."

"Maybe we can take a visit to Florum and set it straight."

"Maybe... but the pirates are hard to fight on their home turf."

I crack a smirk that she didn't seem to see. It's funny to think of struggling to defeat pirates. "Well I'm sure we'll see them around eventually."

"So where are we going anyway?" She asks.

"Well Padme has a nice place out in the country that's pretty isolated. It's a bit of a trek from Theed."

"We couldn't have gone straight there?"

"And missed out on all the sights? This is Naboo Snips. Beautiful nature and mesmerizing architecture are everywhere. Let's enjoy the walk."

She starts laughing. "When have you ever been the sightseeing type?"

"An old dog can't learn new tricks?" And so we leave the city, and head in the direction of Padme's place. Before long the city is well behind us, and we're deep in the Naboo plains.

"Wow Master it's beautiful here. Way prettier than the swamps where the Separatists were cooking up viruses."

"Yea there's a lot to this planet. Everything is peaceful. Even the sand."

"Do you have issues with hostile sand?" She asks.

"Clearly you've never seen a sandstorm on Tatooine." A little further up the way and some herd animals come into view. "Oh good there's some Shaak up ahead. I wanted to bring dinner with us."

Ahsoka rolls her eyes and says, "Nothing more romantic than a butchered animal."

"I couldn't agree more." It's almost cruel to hunt these things. They're so helpless with their tiny legs and oversized bodies, but I need to provide the romance. I go for the one that's particularly oversized, with exceptionally tiny legs. Nature would've killed it soon enough if I didn't.

"Great." Ahsoka says sarcastically. "Now we have a giant animal to haul with us the rest of the way."

"You could stand to learn some optimism. We have food now, so let's break for lunch." I slice up some nice cuts of meat for us.

"Oh lovely. Raw meat for lunch." Ahsoka says.

I give her a smirk, and use the flame from my right hand to cook up the meat.

"Huh." She says. "The flame is blue."

"I know! Pretty cool right?" But something about her demeanor is off. She's thinking about something.

"Have you been to Mustafar recently?" She asks.

"That's a random question. Why would I go to that wasteland?"

"Well maybe if you knew the Separatist council was hiding out there you would've gone."

"The Republic wasn't allowed to make a move on the Separatists."

"So you did know they were there! You know a lot of them got burned up pretty bad."

"And what exactly are you insinuating?"

"Did you slaughter the Separatists on Mustafar?" Why does she know that? There's no way she knows for sure. I can salvage this.

"Snips why are you even worried about what happened to those animals? They were threatening the entire galaxy with more war and suffering."

"No that's not the point! I saw what happened there. I went through the wreckage. What happened to those people was inhumane!" She seems to be getting really worked up about this.

"So you think every scum bag in the universe deserves to live a long and happy life?" I ask.

"Why won't you just answer the question? Was it you?"

This conversation is growing frustrating. "So what if it was? They were warmongers Ahsoka! What happened to them was justice!"

Ahsoka begins creating distance. "So it WAS you! I just... I don't understand. Why?"

"Why?" This question frustrates me a little. "I have brought peace, freedom, justice, and security to the Republic!"

"No! You illegally slaughtered your enemies in cold blood!. That's not justice!" She lowers into a crouch and I can sense she wants to attack.

"Ahsoka." I warn. "Don't do this."

"I will show you justice." And she strikes. I draw my lightsaber in my left hand and parry her strike.

"So be it." I say. As much as I hated teaching that class for the younglings, I must say making up a sequence of basic strikes for my new lightsaber form is undeniably useful. There's a lot more structure to it now instead of me just making it up as I go along. The whole style feels a lot more practical now. Good thing too, because Ahsoka's Jar'Kai is nothing to scoff at. She really has come a long way. Fighting her now I can see why she managed to bring in Maul. With the dual lightsabers, she's doing a fantastic job of mixing in a flurry of strikes from various angles. I can certainly see how it could give a challenger trouble. If I hadn't refined my Sky-Wo with the younglings, I definitely would've had to switch back to my right hand with Form V to battle her. I wanna go on the offensive some here. I've had a couple ideas for some more advanced combos, and I'm curious to see how an opponent like Ahsoka will react. The first two are pretty useless, but the third messes up her footwork. I'll let her recover because there's a couple more things I wanna try. However a few combos later I can't help but find myself getting bored. It's time to end this. In a flash, I make a disarming maneuver that makes her drop the saber in her left hand, then I swiftly cut her right hand from her arm.

"Ahhhh!" She screams. She falls to her knees. Looking at the stub at the end of her right arm. "Why?"

I can only sigh. "It's time you learned some harsh lessons. And you need to know that if you pick a fight you aren't ready for then it'll cost you."

"How could you do this?"

"Oh c'mon." I say. "It's not like I haven't been through the same thing."

"But...to me?" She's looking at me with big sad eyes, and tears streaming down her face.

"I'm sorry Ahsoka. Think of it as motivation to get stronger." I turn back towards the path. "Maybe catching up was a mistake. You should go."

Author's Note

Even though I wrote it, it makes me so sad. Anakin would never. And I hope anyone who reads this is as deeply offended as I am that this is in the story. How did this happen?

[ruchalus]

transparisteel is actually not glass but a form of metal made from lommite ore. This produced strong windshields that was used in things like starfighters, star destroyers, important buildings, etc as it was blaster proof (at least from small arms ie stuff you can carry)

star wars is so fucking stupid, I love it

[pelihomppaa]

Kisu

Kissoista juttelu kannattaa, kattokaa ny kuin hyvin lommit nousi. x)

[opxngravxs-archive]

// As with a lot of my characterization of Tarkin on here, I pick and choose what I like from Canon and EU y’know ‘cause it’s my blog and I do what I want, and I’ve started to do the same thing with how I view Eriadu. Canon and EU on the planet doesn’t exactly conflict, but it doesn’t exactly mesh nicely together, either. Canon seems to lean more to Eriadu being at least in part having an expansive, lush, bio-diverse wilderness while the EU paints Eriadu as if its dawhntawhn Pittsburgh, PA circa 1920 -1950 across the entire planet with the amount of industrialization and overt pollution. I’m going to use Canon as my base because as we see from the novel, The Carrion plays such a huge part in Tarkin’s development. However, Canon does still include Eriadu’s massive Lommite mining operations.

If I have learned anything from living in Western Pennsylvania my entire life is that there is no such thing as clean, ecologically friendly mining. There is no such thing as clean coal (or clean natural gas for that matter, but I’m not here to get into the fracking debate today) so there sure as hell isn’t going to be clean Lommite. Being part of the Appalachian mountains, Western PA has some absolutely stunning natural wonders with a diversity of fauna and flora, however, because of the long history of steel and coal, many of these areas have been devastated by strip mining, acid mine drainage (AMD) and the like. Ever since I was a kid, and long before that, the creeks and rivers near my home have run orange, white, and dead. There are, however, still some places that are still mostly pristine (I don’t think PA has any more virgin forests, but don’t quote me on that) and there are some conservation efforts to be had.

And this is how I view Eriadu -- both as far as geography and terrain go, but also to an extent culturally (which is a topic for another post, though I do touch on it briefly in my Eriaduian funeral customs post from awhile back).

TL;DR: I maintain that Eriadu is space western PA, or at least space south central Appalachia, and yinz can fight me on that.

[fanthatracks]

New Article posted on FanthaTracks.com https://www.fanthatracks.com/reviews/literature-reviews/book-review-star-wars-darth-maul-saboteur/

Book Review: Star Wars: Darth Maul: Saboteur

Star Wars: Darth Maul: Saboteur On the distant planet Dorvalla, precious ore is mined by two competing companies: Intergalactic Ore and Lommite Limited. Neither rival suspects that they are central to a sinister plot masterminded by Darth Sidious, Lord of the Sith, himself. Dispatched by

Take The Link To Read The Full Article

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

Maul in Saboteur

There are more interesting tidbits of Maul’s characterization in the Darth Maul: Saboteur novel - specifically in relation to the concept of respect. I wrote this instead of sleeping, so please excuse typos and grammatical errors.

He circled the house, occasionally chinning himself on the windowsills to peer inside. In a rear room Bruit was sprawled atop a knocked-together bed, half in, half out of a net tent that was meant to keep nocturnal insects from feasting on his blood. He was fully clothed, snoring lightly, and dead drunk. A half-emptied bottle of brandy sat on a small table alongside the bed.

Maul gritted his teeth. More carelessness, more lack of discipline. He couldn't summon any compassion for the man. The weak needed to be weeded out.

[...]

The ferocity of the fighting made it apparent that neither side would tolerate surrender. It was a battle to the death as Maul preferred it, in any case. His attention was drawn time and again to Patch Bruit.

For all the disorder in his life, Bruit's displays of daring made him deserving of the lofty position he held in Lommite Limited. Maul was impressed. He didn't want to see Bruit fall to the mercenaries, who were nothing more than the blasters they cowered behind.

[...]

Maul wondered briefly if he could leave things as they stood. Bruit would report back to Lommite Limited's executive officer that the Toom clan had double-crossed both companies, and that they had paid with their lives for their betrayal. But it was unlikely that Bruit would let it rest at that. He would want to know who had assembled the adulterated recording, and he might even learn that the information about LL's shipping route to Eriadu had been accessed through his personal computer.

Then he would begin to think again about the cantina bug, and perhaps he would scrutinize whatever surveillance recordings were available. For all Maul knew, images of an Iridonian with a face full of red and black tattoos might appear in one them. Of course, there was no danger of his being traced to Coruscant, much less to his Master's lair. But the last thing he wanted was for Darth Sidious to see his apprentice's face turn up on some HoloNet most-wanted list.

Maul had to finish what he had begun.

[...]

Only Bruit remained. Gaping at Maul in disbelief, he let his blaster drop from his rigid hand. Maul continued to approach, the lightsaber held off to one side, its blades horizontal to the floor.

"I don't know how, and I don't know why," Bruit began, "but I know that you must be responsible for everything that's happened."

Maul decided to hear him out. "You recorded my conversations. Then you altered the recordings to trick the saboteurs you had identified in the cantina. You probably arranged for us to find this place." Bruit gestured broadly. "Can I at least know why before you kill me?"

"It is something that had to be done for a larger purpose."

Bruit cocked his head, as if he hadn't heard Maul correctly.

Maul gazed at him. "You needn't dwell on it."

Commentary under the cut:

I think Maul’s brief observation of and interaction with Bruit says a lot of interesting things about his character. He’s initially put-off by Bruit’s lack of “discipline” - which he believes to be critical to gaining strength and power, a belief that makes sense because his entire upbringing has been based on discipline - and dismisses the man as one of the “weak”, who needs to be “weeded out”. But once he watches Bruit in action he actually finds himself drawn in and impressed, going as far as to think that he doesn’t want a person as bold as Bruit to be done in by mere mercenaries. I don’t know, it sounds an awful lot like he’s changed his mind about Bruit and come to respect him in about 0.2 seconds, because he’s impressed with Bruit’s “displays of daring” - probably the way that he puts himself at risk in the front lines to maximize the chance of success. That’s something that I think Maul would be able to relate to very well; I mean, his entire adolescence has been just taking on dangerous tasks for Sidious, risking his life in the process, in the name of the Sith plan. Which - it’s really fascinating, that Maul goes from looking down on this man to holding him in relatively high regard in such a short time. Imo, it’s actually not all that hard to earn Maul’s respect, even if you’re someone he has to kill. 

I’d like to note here that this isn’t the only time that Maul has been shown respecting someone else, even if they’re his enemy; he always seems to give people he considers “worthy opponents” some measure of his respect, actually. I can’t be bothered to find quotes now, but I’m reasonably sure that, in Darth Maul: Shadow Hunter, he was pleased that Darsha Assant was putting up a better fight than he expected from a Jedi Padawan. I also believe there was something in the novel mentioning that he was impressed with Lorn Pavan’s ability to continuously slip between his fingers, despite this also irritating him - so Maul respecting people he has to kill, to varying degrees, isn’t an isolated incident in Saboteur. I just think Saboteur’s example is the most prominent, and gives the most insight into his character.

Anyway, moving on. 

Later, when their business is concluded, Maul legitimately seems reluctant to kill Bruit; briefly wondering if he could leave him alive, but rationalizing how doing so would risk compromising his anonymity and (of course) earn Sidious’ ire. (I’ve mentioned in another post how deflecting Sidious’ wrath, and the subsequent punishment it would bring, from himself is one of Maul’s primary motivations up until his defeat at Obi-Wan’s hands, so I won’t go into that here, but suffice to say that you suck, Sheev.) This is already interesting, because not long ago he considered Bruit someone weak who deserved to be killed - meaning his opinion really did flip that drastically that fast. 

Then Maul goes as far as to make a conscious decision to “hear [Bruit] out” before he kills him, a courtesy(?) that he definitely doesn’t extend to everyone he kills. Which, again, is interesting, because it really shows in yet another way that Maul has developed genuine respect for Bruit - someone he knows absolutely nothing about on a personal level, someone who’s had pretty much nothing to do with him or his life until just, like, a day ago. It speaks to how quickly Maul can come to hold someone in such sincere high esteem. And I think that’s pretty amazing, given the degree of isolation that he’s lived in his entire life. He’s only had significant personal connections with Sidious, Deenine, Kilinidi, and Daleen. Out of those four, only the latter two were, you know, good relationships, and even they didn’t come into the picture until after his formative years, throughout the entirety of which, Maul was traumatized and emotionally stunted. After all that, for him to still retain the capacity to grow to respect someone in such a short time (albeit still warped due to... you know, All That) is admirable. (And sad. I’ll get into that later.) 

Finally, when Maul actually does kill Bruit, it again caught me off guard that he granted Bruit’s request to know why he (Maul) is doing this. He says Bruit’s death will be in service of a “greater purpose”, and then, when Bruit shows bewilderment about this (admittedly vague) statement, goes as far as to tell him that he doesn’t need to worry about it. Which... Maul probably doesn’t consciously realize it himself, but it sounds to me like he’s trying to be reassuring. Like, of course most people wouldn’t take that as a comfort (understandably so), but Maul usually cuts down his victims without saying a word to them. Sometimes it’s accompanied by certain thoughts from him, but I can’t think of any instances where he’s outright told someone he doesn’t care anything about not to worry, before killing them. 

So. Maul has known about Bruit’s existence for roughly a few days at maximum, but when he sees that Bruit is confused about his answer, he, out of his respect for Bruit, offers reassurance before killing him. Now, I know - that seems like the literal bare minimum when you’re going to kill someone, but for a person with Maul’s upbringing - molded into a weapon since he was an infant, endured so much violence that things like killing others and being in regular danger of dying himself, are all just mundane to him - to straight-up try to reassure someone before killing them seems... strangely considerate. And this makes me sad, because it just has me thinking about what kind of person Maul could have been if he hadn’t fallen into Sidious’ slimy wrinkled old hands. Even an entire lifetime of abuse, dehumanization, and manipulation hasn’t completely beaten out his ability to connect with people that he doesn’t personally know, and extend respect and sympathy to them. So how would he have turned out if he wasn’t reared in exploitation and violence since he was a baby?