#oc x mother koril

[lorewarden]

OC x Mother Koril: Part 1

@mask-knife-is-buggys-girl Thank you for the push! I haven't done any creative writing in years, been so stuck with the marketing BS I do for work. Then I got so excited that I had to start writing immediately after our brief messaging. Turns out I really needed this.

A quick note before we begin: I haven't read any of the High Republic novels/comics, so I'm mostly relying on my knowledge of Legends in terms of lore, plus a few minor additions. With that out of the way, let's go! Chapter 1 She's sitting in a corner of a noisy cantina, brown hood half-drawn. She was given to understand that Hutt Space was the ideal place to get lost in a crowd if one desired to do so - and although everything she's seen on Nar Shadaa so far seems to confirm that, she is still not entirely comfortable leaving her horns and dark facial tattoos on full display. Nobody here would look close enough to notice that said tattoos have a stark bluish tint, or that her eyes are perhaps a shade too bright. In this light and on this world, she should appear no different to a regular Iridonian Zabrak.

Mother Koril – just Koril now, she reprimands herself – has never seen so many species in a single place in her life. Or so many people, for that matter. Their sheer number in this smoky cantina equals that of her entire clan, and then some. Most are chattering in some guttural language, though she catches a word of Basic here and there, ever louder as more drinks are delivered to their tables. Koril herself is nursing a pink drink that she's determined to be nauseatingly sweet, but she lacks the willpower to summon a serving droid to order a different one.

Indeed, the sheer amount of... everything... in this place is offensive to the senses. And people come here for fun?, she thinks, glaring at the bubbles in her glass.

She's startled by two massive arms, one catching her shoulder and the other one gripping her chair. Koril jumps and punches at it, leaving a gray mass on the floor.

“Oi! What do you think you're doing?”

The creature is cursing unintelligibly, not looking at her, as its four hulking arms attempt to find purchase on the floor. It's trying to get up and failing miserably. It was an accident, she sighs. Another being whizzes past her, towards the gray mass, yelling “Hex! Are you ok?”

Koril is standing less than a foot away from them, not moving to help, but equally loath to leave her table. The Idiot's friend, a tall human woman, attempts to grab it by one of the arms and buckles under its weight.

“Drunken... son-of-a... bantha... last time, I swear...”, she mutters under her breath before ending up on the floor herself.

This time Koril does move, and helps the human upright with ease.

“Thank you”, she smiles appreciatively, “and sorry about him. He's -”

“Drunk, yes, I gathered,” Koril finishes her sentence, then tilts her head towards the Besalisk. “Can't help you there, though.”

Luckily, she does not need to, as he finally gives up and gracelessly crawls away without a second glance at them. The two bemusedly stare in his direction.

Suddenly remembering Koril is there, the human turns to face her. “Sorry about that. Did we spill your drink? I'll get you another one”, she says hastily.

“I wish you had spilled it,” Koril almost laughs. Almost. On a whim, she adds “But I'd love to try something else. Whatever you're having” and offers her a chair. The woman flashes an understanding smile, gestures at one of the droids, and takes the seat. “My name's Nita”, she extends her hand, and the two finally get a good look at each other.

She is fair-skinned with rectangular tattoos extending from her bottom lip, down her chin, ending on the throat just above her collarbone. Her face is mostly smooth – she appears to be in her late twenties or early thirties – but for three deep-set lines on her forehead. The mirth in her hazel eyes is sharply contrasted by heavy purple circles underneath them. With sharp cheekbones and dark hair, Koril thinks the woman could look very stern when cross.

As she takes Nita's hand, she thinks she sees a flash of recognition and amusement in her eyes, but it's gone as quickly as it came. End notes: So, this is set about a year after the events on Brendok. At the time of writing this, we still don't have the exact story of what happened there - I have my own theories, but I'd rather wait before putting them in the story. Since I don't yet know how many chapters I'll write, and it's gonna be a bit of a slow burn anyways, I figured that would be for the best at the moment. In my mind, Koril is in her late thirties, and Nita is 10 years her junior. Nita's tattoos are Mirialan (there's a reason for that). The Besalisk's name, Hex, is supposed to be reminiscent of Dex from Attack of the Clones, but with a witchy spin.

Hope you enjoyed this little meet-cute. It gets darker from here on out. NEXT CHAPTER

[lorewarden]

OC x Mother Koril: Part 8

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) Note: This is a long one. Like I said, I didn't want to rush the girls' quality time, and I didn't want to divide this part of the story into more than 2 chapters (dividing it at all hadn't been my initial plan). Trigger warning: hunting.

Later in the evening, Koril finds herself pondering if she had been overly harsh on the woman. If it had been a mere matter of a defense mechanism, who was she to criticize her for it? And it did indeed seem probable, for if Nita or anyone else on The Purrgil had harbored sinister intentions, Koril would have picked up on it by now – as wary as she had been in the days until their landing.

No, she finally admits to herself. The true cause of such vitriol on her part had been the uncanny resemblance Nita's charm bore to that of her late wife. Aniseya had been quite adept at using hers to full advantage, particularly in the early days of their relationship, when it had been her imperative to talk Koril into having children together. And later, for years after the birth of their girls, to mollify her during their parental disagreements.

Koril shakes her head to rid herself of the memories and resolves to meditate – focus on the life around her. She sits on the grass cross-legged. But just a quick peek... She turns to Nita and observes her Pattern. It is one of sorrow, loss, and regret. She wonders at it. Could they have perhaps been kindred spirits without knowing it? Could Nita's loss – whatever it was - possibly be comparable to hers? She looks deeper and sees criss-crossing shapes that belie internal conflict.

No. She scolds herself, I have intruded enough.

***

Nita is gently prodded awake at the crack of dawn. A fruity smell permeates the biting mountain air, and she realizes that Koril is holding two steaming cups of tea. The Zabrak is fully dressed and there is not a trace of morning fatigue on her face, amber eyes gleaming with an alertness and eagerness.

She forces herself upright and accepts the cup. They drink their tea in companionable silence. The drink is sweet with an underlying sour note, and soon takes the desired effect. She stretches, cracks her knuckles a few times, and shakes off the last vestiges of sleep. Koril turns on a holomap and zeroes in on their area before launching into a detailed explanation of her proposed route. It involves circling the mountain westward, then trekking through the forest directly towards it, whereby they would make their first hunting attempt, and stopping for lunch on the other side. Nita nods along.

“You, any suggestions?”, Koril inquires.

“Nope, it your show. Let's pack and get a move-on.”

Their backpacks filled with protein bars, ropes, hunting knives, canteens of water and a few extra clothing items, they set off. Nita walks behind Koril, who uses her energy staff as a walking stick. It is early yet, and the forest is quiet, but as they make their way further in, the chatter of birds and critters unseen starts filling the air. Koril's steps, initially probing and cautious, steadily gain confidence and speed. Even with this change, they scarcely make a sound. Soon she is gliding between the trees and elegantly dodging the sprawling acthorn branches as if born here, and Nita can't help but admire the sight. Her own movements are but a touch less smooth, though equally quiet.

She spots several small mammals on the way and asks if they would make suitable prey.

“Not yet”, Koril turns to reply, “We would do better to stay as mobile as possible until we reach the other side, which will be easier without the extra weight.”

Neither is keen on breaking the tempo, so it is only before noon that they snack on protein bars, and they do so on their feet. After that, it takes them another two hours to reach the uneven cliffside at the other edge of the forest. They set their bags down and slump next to them with ragged breaths. Nita realizes they are both out of wind, but were apparently too stubborn to notice – or admit to it – earlier. She spots a bead of sweat running between Koril's horns and instinctively reaches to wipe it off her. The Zabrak's exhaustion prevents her from recoiling at the sudden movement, but her expression is one of surprise, shortly replaced by comprehension. “Ah – sorry”, Nita mumbles awkwardly. “That's alright. Appreciated,” comes the barely-audible response.

“To be clear, we're still going hunting later”, Koril adds louder.

“I didn't doubt it,” Nita laughs. “Why are you so dead-set on it, by the way?”

“Living in the city, one gets complacent. We would do well to keep our skills sharp... lest we forget where we came from,” the last part she says more to herself.

A few hours of rest, and they're back on their feet, ropes and knives at their belts. They make back for the forest in search of more animals like the ones they saw earlier in the day. The creatures were abundant here, and surely enough, Koril soon finds several sets of pawprints, one diverging from the group. The pair opt to go after the others. They follow lightfooted and silent in their focus, until the Zabrak's firm hand stops Nita in her tracks and gestures somewhere to their left. Nita turns and sees the tiny creatures some ten meters away, fussing around an especially old-looking tree with protruding, tangled roots. Koril takes a rope and starts tying it into something that looks like a lasso. Not quite a lasso, Nita notes as she observes the slender, deft fingers at work, something more elaborate. Once finished, Koril gives it a gentle tug and smiles, pleased with her handiwork, and places it in the grass. “You -” she mouths to Nita and makes a half-circle gesture, “go behind them – get them running to me.”

Nita motions to the one of the daggers “Can't we – a biiit closer – and throw?”

“Too risky. After – when they come.”

Nita acknowledges and touches the energy staff. “May I? To herd.”

“Good idea,” Koril approves.

Nita lingers for another moment, as her companion gets into ready position – knees bent, leaning forward, eyes fixed on the target, and that same feral grin. The Zabrak was now a predator waiting to leap, to unleash her considerable energy, fully in her element.

The human is careful to maintain the distance as she circles the creatures and skulks behind them. Finally, she releases a shrill, unintelligible yell and bangs the energy staff against their tree. The result is immediate, and the animals take flight – two in Koril's direction, two sideways, and Nita leaps to redirect them. A dull thud tells her that a dagger has struck its mark, and she herds the two towards Koril's trap, swinging the staff to block their intended escape routes. A crack from the rope as it springs to life on Zabrak's pull. Nita's two are now scurrying in opposite directions, so she throws the staff at one, resulting in a sickening crunch, but she's already launching her whole body at the other – it's all she can do to stop herself grabbing it with the Force. It changes directions and she misses by several centimeters, landing flat on the grass.

However, this provides Koril with the time to close the distance. With a feline precision, she leaps right on top of the creature and grabs it by the throat. She regards it for a moment, then lets it go and crouches beside Nita. “Are you hurt?”, she asks with a measure of concern, trying not to laugh.

“Just bruised pride. I'll live.”

She helps Nita to her feet and giggles at her sour expression. “That was actually pretty impressive. You have excellent reflexes, except for that last bit,” she offers reassurance – and promptly undermines it with another bout of giggling. “Your face!”

Nita finds it so unexpected and endearing that she forgets her own pouting. It's contagious. The two are now positively howling with laughter, holding their bellies and patting each other on the back.

Later in the day, having concluded that they wouldn't make it back to the speeder and the tents before dark, they decide to spend the night at the cliffside, to sleep under the open sky. They're chatting lively as they recount the day's events by the firelight. Nita is captivated by the sight of shadows dancing across Koril's face as if merrily skipping over the dark, striped tattoos. It is the last image in her mind's eye before she drifts off, and for the first time in days, she feels content.

***

The following two days in the wilderness – and good company – have reinvigorated Koril. She speaks more freely, questions herself less, and feels as though she could take on the galaxy. Not that this was her intention, of course. When the time comes for them to go back to Drev'starn, she is sorry to leave, but contented by the thought that they would return. The “return” and the “they” of it all was somehow not a point of contention in her mind. She shares this with a delighted Nita when she asks her if they could explore further next time. The human happily agrees, and per Koril's request, promises to keep the decision to herself for the time being.

It is early evening when they arrive in the city. As they were due to take off in mere hours, they go to The Purrgil without detours. Jhoram, Garr, Hestia, and Hex are already there, and the others are on their way.

“You went camping?”, Hestia is outraged at not having been invited. “Maybe next time, kiddo”, Nita offers an apologetic smile.

“Camping, 's that what th' kids are callin' it these days?”, Hex snidely directs at the two.

Koril understands the implication immediately, and so does Captain Jhoram. Before she can respond, he buzzes over and places both blue hands over Hestia's ears. “NOT in front of my daughter, Hex, how many times do I have to tell you...” For the Besalisk's part, he doesn't seem to care, and gives only a half-hearted “sorry, boss”.

“What else would we call it?”, she hears Nita's low voice behind her. Befuddled, she turns to face her, and is met with a quizzical expression. This takes her aback – sure, the human was younger than her, but not that young.

“Kriffing”, she hisses into Nita's ear.

Her companion assumes the color of a Zeltron's arse.

End note: As I was writing this, I figured I needed to come up with a more concrete way to depict how the Thread is used, so I threw together some thoughts here. Special thanks to @isaackuo for a brilliant suggestion which I hope to put to good use later in the story.

[lorewarden]

OC x Mother Koril: Part 9

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) Note: Confession time, in chapter 3 I originally had the Jedi reporting that Koril had probably already left the planet, but writing this I came up with a better idea that felt more impactful, so I went and retroactively changed that one sentence. That was a terrible lack of initial story planning on my part.

Eleven months ago

“How certain are you that she's still down there?”, Nita raises her eyebrow at the hologram of a dark-skinned woman with curly hair tied back.

“Completely”, Master Holden responds. “As you've no doubt been told, we've maintained a constant presence since the incident. And” she correctly guesses the next question, “She could not have left the world without us knowing. We've had three starfighters patrolling the orbit – neither they nor our planetside scanners have detected any craft departing the world.”

“Understood.” Based on the reports she's read on her way to Brendok, Nita decides to dismiss the possibility of the witches having access to a stealth ship such as her own. The small fleet uncovered beneath the ruins of the fortress consisted of a few bulky transports and sturdy gunships, neither overly sophisticated, as well as heavily damaged during the previous month's battle.

“We were instructed to clear the planet upon your arrival. We will meet you at our base in the fortress before we do so”, Holden continues.

“Thank you, Master Holden, that won't be necessary”, Nita muses. “I need you to take off before I land. Let her think we've given up the search. I'll reach out to you once I'm out of hyperspace.” “As you say, Master Shairan.” Holden bows, and she returns the gesture before cutting the transmission.

True to Holden's word, the Jedi contingent is airborne almost as soon as Nita signals her arrival. She crosses paths with their transport on her way to the surface. At her instructions, they would stay above orbit with the three starfighters until Nita is completely satisfied that none of the witches' ships are still functional. She lands on one of the three still-functional platforms near the top of the fortress. It is obscured by the mountain on all sides, rendering it effectively invisible from the ground. Once there, she activates three small, floating recon droids and sends them to scout the surrounding terrain. The witch – Mother Koril, as Sol had heard her called by the twins during their escapades into the woods – would have seen her colleagues leave this place and would now likely make her way back. How long it would take her or which direction she might come from, Nita has no notion, so she makes her way to the remnants of the witches' fleet while the droids are busy. It takes her a while to find a path, most of the tunnels having been buried.

It is exactly as described – at first glance, there is not a ship left intact. Torn hulls, crushed engines, several ships outright flattened by falling mortar... As she circles what had once been a hangar bay, Nita discovers a single gunship with only minor dents to the hull. From this distance, it appears still spaceworthy, so she slides down for a closer inspection.

Several crucial engine components are missing. Holden or someone on her team had clearly had the good sense to remove them. This doesn't mean there isn't another one somewhere further out, Nita notes, though she is pleased.

She sits on the ground cross-legged, takes a deep breath, and closes her eyes. With herself and Mother Koril now the only sentient beings on the planet, she should be able to sense the latter. She is a Jedi Shadow, and in this she knows she is unmatched – save perhaps for the members of the Council of the First Knowledge. With steady breaths, she reaches out with her consciousness, first to the walls of the cavern, and then slowly further outward, past the edges of the fortress, past the recon droids, through the surrounding forest, in all directions at once... She is one with the Force, and the Force is with her.

A herd of large, scaly creatures to the north. A stream running through the woods to the east. A narrow path to the south-east. At its end, a gargantuan bunta tree... She is one with the Force, and the Force is with her.

The forest turns into a veritable jungle as it sprawls southward... She is one with the Force, and the Force is with her. Further, further south... And just there, at the very edges of her vision, untold kilometers away, a presence.

Nita redirects all her focus to it, and sees it clearly: a woman, long auburn hair streaming behind her, atop a lithe horned mount that leaps and bobs and weaves its way through the jungle. She follows them. Her theory had been correct – Mother Koril was riding directly towards the fortress.

Nita finally opens her eyes and checks the chrono. It shows that she had been meditating for twelve hours. Unsurprising, as time held no relevance to the Force.

She stretches her legs and grabs a holomap of the area from her pouch. It is incomplete, having been compiled by various Jedi only in the past couple of months, but the jungle she's just seen is on it. Judging by its distance from the fortress and Mother Koril's current pace, it will be at least three days before she reaches it. Possibly more, she theorizes. Satisfied with her findings, she comms Holden and gives permission for their ships to leave Brendok. The witch will not be taking flight without Nita.

Though it would give her time to explore the place more thoroughly, she does not relish the notion of spending several days in this mountain of ghosts. It is too much time to think on what happened here, Nita knows, and if she is not careful, it will certainly not benefit her already shaky resolve to complete this mission.

*** Three days hence, as if on schedule, one of the recon droids alerts her of the approaching rider. It was wholly redundant – Nita was jerked awake by the witch's presence as soon as she entered the fifteen-kilometer radius.

She takes up a position behind the remnants of a wall right by the entry of the tunnel that Koril is heading towards, cloaks her own presence in the Force, and waits.

There is a sound of approaching hoofbeats, and soon the witch and her mount appear from behind the treeline. Nita observes the figure shakily dismount, and as she takes heavy steps towards the fortress, gets a first proper look at her.

Mother Koril's maroon robes are tattered and filthy. The blue tunic under them hangs loose as if she had quickly lost weight. Her long hair, which might have been braided once, is a tangled mess of auburn wires. The dark tattoos on her unnaturally pale, bony face give her the appearance of a wraith, an impression made more powerful by the hollow expression of her yellow eyes. Even the color of her horns is off.

Nita nearly curses aloud. She doesn't know what she was expecting – mostly, she was trying not to expect anything at all – but this is...

“Osha! Mae!”, Koril calls out in a hoarse voice. When no response comes, she tries again, louder, more frantically. And then a third time, and a fourth.

Nita is clutching her stun blaster and shaking from head to toe. That the witch hasn't sensed her is a wonder. Another testament to her current state. Stun her, a voice in her head urges, just stun her and get it over with. It will be a mercy.

Mercy? She blinks. What mercy is it to have her wake Force-knows-where, bound, with a Jedi standing over her?

Koril stumbles into the tunnel. The motion involuntarily snaps Nita back into focus, and she waits a few seconds before leaving the hiding spot and stalking after her. She makes certain to always stay at least one corner behind the witch as they make their way through the dark, winding passages. Her hunting instincts now having taken over, her mind is clear but for one thought – follow.

As Koril enters a spacious chamber still illuminated by a few flickering lights, Nita has a clear line of sight. She reaches for the stun blaster at her belt again – and yet again, her resolve wobbles once she realizes where they are.

It is where the brunt of the battle had taken place and where the Jedi subsequently buried the witches.

A single, heart-rending scream pierces the silence.

Nita turns and runs back into the tunnels, leaving the former Clan Mother to grieve alone.

*** A week has passed, during which Koril has scoured the fortress from top to bottom, hoping against hope to find her daughters. She has either not yet seen Nita's ship, or simply does not care anymore.

Leaving the probe droids in the fortress – with instructions to inform her if Koril attempts to harm herself – the Jedi Shadow has made a new discovery. As she had suspected, there is another starship on the planet, and it is hidden in a secret hangar underneath the massive bunta tree. Ten days ago, this would have been cause for concern.

Now, a part of her is relieved. She has not decided on a course of action quite yet, but trusts that she will know what to do when the time comes.

Another three days, and Koril comes to the clearing around the bunta tree, looking even worse than the last time Nita has seen her. If she had difficulty walking before, now she is barely moving – but she seems determined to reach a particular destination. And surely enough, she soon disappears somewhere beneath the roots of the tree. Nita senses her shuffling about the hangar and knows that there is still a time window to catch up with the witch and prevent her from leaving. However, as that time window is rapidly closing, she doesn't move.

The ground gives a mighty quake. Further down the clearing, it opens with the screeching of an old mechanism, and a light gunship emerges.

Nita simply sits on the grass cross-legged and watches it take off. If not you, Vernestra will just send someone else, Indara's words echo in her mind. As long as she is on it, as long as the Jedi believe that she is on it, there will be no cause to send more people after Koril, and suddenly Nita knows precisely what to do. The only question remaining is what she could share with Indara. *** Her former Master is not one to be fooled, even if Nita were so inclined.

“Whatever you are about to do, I'm begging you, don't”, the holo lightly flickers as she raises a hand, “tell me about it. I cannot officially know, and I am quite certain that I don't want to.” She is seeing right through her.

Indara continues in the same tone, “Your official report is that she made it offworld in an undiscovered ship before you ever got there, but you've found clues as to where she may be headed and you are going after her... However long that may take... Yes?” “Just so, Master. To continue the pursuit effectively, I'll have to go under deep cover and I won't be able to report in for some time.” “Months, possibly even longer”, Indara adds emphatically. “We won't be sending assistance without your explicit request so as not to jeopardize your operation.”

“And you won't have to send a search party for me when I don't report in because you will be able to sense that I'm alive and well”, Nita finishes.

“Exactly right. We understand one another.” The older woman softens. “I do hope you know what you're doing... on this mission... and know that I will miss you.”

“And I you”, Nita responds sincerely. “May the Force always be with you, my dear.”

With these parting words, Indara cuts the transmission, leaving Nita to the deafening silence of space.

She punches random coordinates into the console and jumps into hyperspace.

End note: So... yeah. My initial idea involved Nita using psychometry to see how the battle played out, to really hammer in the horror of it. And then while writing this I decided that Nita seeing Koril in person before Nar Shaddaa and actively choosing to let her go would carry more narrative weight. Additionally, it gave me an opportunity to show off Nita's skills as a Shadow and contrast them with the hunting in the previous chapter.

[lorewarden]

OC x Mother Koril: Part 7

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) As they set down, they find that three stocky, long-maned Bothans are already waiting for them, accompanied by several sentinel droids.

“Now,” Garr addresses Koril, Ki, and Tanner, “The security team keeps watch in the bay while we offload the cargo. That'll take a few hours, and then you're free to do what you like for the next four days. Just don't start any fights, don't steal anything, and don't gamble with the locals – they'll fleece you, trust me on that. And keep your comlinks on you at all times.”

Koril reaches under her cloak to make sure that the vibrodaggers are still where they ought to be. Satisfied, she grabs her energy staff from the sleeping quarters, and strides towards the similarly-armed droids on the platform. The Nikto twins have already taken their positions, and Captain Jhoram is talking to a Bothan clad in a woodland-green tunic and a thick gold chain that reaches down to her waist.

“Any trouble on the way?”, she overhears her rasp to the Captain.

“None”, the Toydarian bobs his head.

“You got lucky, then”, the Bothan's relief is palpable. “We've had reports of pirate attacks on the Reena Trade Route. A little too close to home for our comfort. I wondered if maybe you would run into them over at the intersection.” They move out of hearing range, and Koril takes up a post at the southeast platform bridge, energy staff in firm grip.

The sun is high in the sky, though the heat is bearable and the air mercifully dry. At one point, Rrik comes to offer her a canteen of water, which she gratefully accepts. He lingers, sizing her up, and then proceeds to chatter in his native Jawaese. Koril doesn't understand a word, but his monologue is accompanied by a lot ecstatic arm-waving and occasionally pointing in specific directions, and she assumes he's suggesting the best sightseeing tour. She nods along until her tiny companion seems satisfied, and he leaves her with a high-pitched “Ubanya!”

Koril has no intention of staying in the city, having had enough of the oppressive durasteel buildings and artificial lighting of Nar Shaddaa's underbelly. She wants to seize the opportunity to explore Bothawui's lush wilderness, breathe sharp mountain air, and lose herself in the greenery... or rather, find herself again. So when their cargo is offloaded and the crew dismissed, she asks Nita if they are permitted to leave the city.

“Of course, as long as you bring your comlink.”

“I was thinking...”, Koril starts uncertainly, “If you might like to join me?”

“Really, you wouldn't rather go alone?”, Nita asks as if sensing her dilemma. “Not that I'd mind coming along, I just figured, being cooped up on the ship with us and whatnot...”

The woman has some tact. She might not be bad company after all. “You're more familiar with this world. And I would not object to a hunting partner”, Koril says more firmly.

“There is such a thing as rations, you know, we don't have to hunt,” Nita laughs.

“I am not eating that swill,” Koril lips twitch in disgust, then extend into a feral grin. “It will be fun. Come on, city girl.”

***

With some basic camping gear stashed in the back of their speeder bike – the Zabrak been adamant that they pack only the basics – Nita is accelerating through the mostly-barren northern city outskirts. She feels Koril's fingers digging into her abdomen, the older woman holding on for dear life. An adrenaline junkie she was clearly not. At least, not this kind.

As the terrain changes, however, so does the mood. Nita senses Koril's growing excitement while they skirt a thick treeline and feels her bobbing her head from one side to the other as if not wanting to miss a single detail of their surroundings.

“LOOK, BUT DON'T SHIFT YOUR WEIGHT TOO MUCH”, Nita yells.

“I'M LOOKING-WHAT?”

“I SAID”, she struggles against the wind, “DON'T SHIFT YOUR WEIGHT.”

Two taps on the shoulder in response. She understood.

It is late afternoon by the time they reach an Acthorn forest that surrounds the foot of the mountains. Getting any closer would require that they leave the speeder, which neither is overly keen on doing just yet, so the pair agree to set up camp on the woods' outskirts. They shuffle about setting up a tent, and soon fall into a steady rhythm whilst casually chatting about the local wildlife. Nita explains that there are no large predators in this area – they were only a few hours away from Drev'starn, after all – and that the local herbivores were accustomed to the presence of people and would not be an easy catch. This does not appear to phase Koril. Nita notices that the Zabrak is more confident here, more at ease, and she is glad of it. A part of her looks forward to seeing her in action in tomorrow's hunt.

“City girl”, Koril called her earlier. When they go to gather firewood – she had, naturally, insisted that they not bring a heater – Nita decides to play it up for comedic effect. She trudges through the tall grass with an exaggerated clumsiness, which earns her both an eye roll and a chuckle from her companion.

“Do you never take anything seriously? Besides history, that is”, the older woman snorts.

“I take everything seriously. How I act is a different matter”, Nita responds playully.

“Why, though?”, Koril doesn't relent.

“Because,” Nita ponders the answer for a moment before opting for the truth, “It's easier that way. Life is just... lighter. It prevents me from overthinking, and if it amuses the people around me, all the better.” She raises her head to meet Koril's eyes. “Does it irritate you?”

“Somewhat. Mainly because it comes across as... I don't know, insincere? That's not precisely the right word”, the Zabrak frowns.

Nita chuckles internally, and it is genuine. “I'm not pleasant company when I get philosophical, or when I open up too much. You would not enjoy hearing about my life, I assure you.”

“You don't have to be pleasant all the time. If I ask a question you would rather not answer, say so instead of doing that jokingly evasive poodoo thing that you do,” Koril is getting slightly flustered, but keeps her voice even when she continues. “I am not looking for your autobiography. As Jhoram said, everyone has a past – loyalty is what matters. I'm certainly no blank slate, either. Just be real,” she concludes, her gaze searing.

Nita sighs, and after a pregnant pause, she simply says “That I can do.”

She would try. End note: Their stay on Bothawui was originally meant to be one chapter, but I decided to divide it into two. Our girls are finally spending some quality time together and I don't want to rush through it. NEXT CHAPTER

[lorewarden]

OC x Mother Koril: Part 6

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) In the days that follow, Koril dons the image of the strong-and-silent guard. She is ever in the presence of her crewmates, observing, speaking only when spoken to. They seem to accept this, and though they take care to include her in mealtime conversation and the odd game of pazaak, they ask her no personal questions. There is undeniably an air of familial ease between the colleagues, Nita included, but there also appear to be some unspoken boundaries.

In fact, she notices that personal details regarding their lives prior to The Purrgil are seldom discussed, if at all.

When she dares make this observation to Captain Jhoram, he simply shrugs. “Everyone has a history. So long as it doesn't catch up to them, I only wanna know that my crew is capable and loyal.”

“That sounds rather ominous,” she says in her best imitation of Nita's playful evasiveness, but feels her concern seeping through even as she utters the words.

“Not at all”, the Captain responds kindly. “See, most people born under the Hutts spend their lives trying to get out. Those who come in, though – they're either trying to disappear, which means they'll keep their heads down and try not to cross anyone too high up – or they're ambitious, ruthless, and don't give a damn for rules. As you can probably guess, you can trust the first type. Pretty easy to spot, too. It's that kind of people that Roggin hires for field work.” He shakes his head emphatically. “So it's in everyone's best interest to stay loyal to each other and keep their speech organs shut.”

“Mutually assured destruction”, Koril nods.

“Exactly. You can talk to 'em about your poodoo if you want to, but you don't have to. It's up to you.”

This puts Koril at ease. She is still tempted to ask about Nita, but understands that she would not get an answer. She would simply have to spend more time with the woman, which she does not deem objectionable. Though they have not spoken much since their first shift in the cockpit, the tall human appears to have taken Koril under her wing, always staying within shouting distance and making certain she's comfortable. The former Clan Mother finds this somewhat amusing – after all, she had been accustomed to being the caretaker – but she is secretly grateful.

Looking at The Purrgil's crew, the phrase “mutually assured destruction” sounds ridiculous to the point of paranoia. Ki and Tanner are as new to the ship as she is, and they are already comfortable debating galactic politics with Garr and sparring hand-to-hand with Hestia under Jhoram's watchful eye.

“Koril, come! You'll want to see this!”, Nita shakes her awake and runs back towards the cockpit. The clock shows 10:43 in the morning, which means they are about to exit hyperspace at the destination any minute now. She nearly falls from her bed, managing to gain balance at the last moment, and shuffles off after Nita.

She is met with the sight of a planet that explodes with green and turquoise. The Bothans were firm believers in the preservation of the natural beauty of their homeworld and it showed even from this distance. Koril feels a wide grin spread across her face. She had not set down on such a wild world since she left Brendok and is now eager – no, desperate – to come closer.

“Flight control, this is The Purrgil requesting a surface landing clearance at Drev'starn Spaceport. Transmitting license and registration,” Nita chimes through the comms.

“Copy that, Purrgil. You are cleared to land at 2-4-1, Bay 19. Transmitting now.”

The freighter vibrates as it enters the atmosphere and Koril grabs the back of Nita's chair to steady herself. The pilot pays her no attention as her fingers deftly dart across the control board, and the vibration slowly stop. They are now gliding towards the surface, so smoothly that Koril thinks she might be dreaming.

“Nice flying. Thank you.”

Nita quickly turns and beams at her. End notes: I know this is a short one, sorry about that. I intend to speed things up after the next chapter. My reasoning for this entire slow beginning is that trust (and love) doesn't just happen overnight, and it's not linear, especially for someone who's been on the run for a year. Such a person would need more than just a few friendly words, and those first days in particular would feel awfully long. NEXT CHAPTER

[lorewarden]

OC x Mother Koril: Part 5

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) The flight to Bothawui would take three days. They would be staying on the planet for four – Captain Jhoram and First Mate Garr needed to meet with a few business partners, Nita explained – and then they would make their way back to Nar Shaddaa.

Protocol dictated that one member of their security team, which included the Nikto twins, stay in the cockpit with the pilot to monitor long-range sensors while flying through deep space. Koril eagerly volunteers for the first shift with Nita, partly out of curiosity about her new acquaintance, and partly to avoid being alone with the other pilot – who just so happens to be Hex. Nita almost instantly picks up on the latter reason and is none too shy to tease her about it. “Not in the mood to practice your reflexes, then?”

“Hmph,” Koril scowls, “Safety first.”

They chat about their destination, and Nita regales her with the particulars of Bothan history and traditions. She is quite knowledgeable on the subject, which, Koril thinks, should come as no surprise since the world is practically the crew's second home. What she finds more intriguing is the stream of references to other worlds that she uses to explain Bothawui. The woman is obviously well-traveled and, despite initially appearing as a lighthearted jokester, something of a scholar. She is also a rather engaging speaker, and Koril decides that she enjoys listening to her. Additionally, she makes a mental note to ask her about matriarchal societies unaffiliated with the Republic – once they get to know each other better, naturally.

“You have seen much of the galaxy,” she ventures, “You've been a pilot for a long time, then?”

Nita shifts in her seat. “For most of my life, yeah.”

Koril expects a lengthier answer, waits for her to continue. She does not. Neither does she ask a question back, so, simply to break the silence, Koril changes the subject. “What do your markings mean?”, she points to her chin.

Success. Nita's response comes more easily this time. “They're traditional Mirialan tattoos. My father was Mirialan – he worked offworld, but he was very keen on raising me on his native planet.”

“I would not have guessed. No offense, but you don't look it,” Koril remarks.

“None taken. Mom was Corellian. Human. Hence the lack of green skin,” she laughs, then leans in conspiratorially and adds in a faux whisper, “I'll let you in on a secret. Brown is not my real eye color, I'm wearing lenses.”

Koril idly wonders if this is true. She responds with the same mock whisper, “So what's the real color?”

“Well, now, that's just way too personal,” Nita quips.

The pair have another half an hour left on their shift, until the next hyperspace jump. They spend it in a relative, albeit aloof silence. Occasionally Koril marvels at the beauty of the surrounding stars, and Nita periodically yawns – she's been the pilot on duty for all eight hours The Purrgil has been spaceborne. When Hex comes to take the controls, she shuffles off to the sleeping quarters with Koril trailing behind her. She softly bids the tired pilot goodnight and makes for the vacant engine room.

***

Nita is lying in the top bunk wide awake, silently cursing herself. Having spent the majority of her career as a Jedi Shadow, she was well-versed in getting close to her targets, assessing them and investigating them with utmost objectivity whilst maintaining a tight cover. She truly ought to have handled this better. She should not have been uncomfortable with personal questions, especially one so benign. She should have had a story prepared in advance. Babbling about history and spouting anthropological factoids would only carry a conversation for so long, she had known that. It had never been so difficult – save perhaps for her first undercover assignment.

Koril, however, was not a target. Koril had not been a target for over ten months. After her initial efforts on Brendok, Nita came to Nar Shaddaa to avoid even the temptation to look for her. The galaxy was vast, and she had not thought that a den of criminals would appeal to a former Clan Mother, even one hiding from the Jedi. And even if she had chosen to make way there, the odds of their encounter were infinitesimal. Hutt Space boasted several thousand worlds, tens of billions of beings, and Nar Shaddaa was almost as densely populated as the Republic capital.

So when she recognized her in that cantina a few days ago, her first impulse had been to laugh at the cosmic irony. That fact, coupled with an undeniable morbid curiosity, compelled her to sit down with the woman. Koril was alone and clearly new to this world, so Nita took it upon herself to provide a much-needed explanation of the ongoing state of affairs. She offered her a job in hopes of assisting her, however briefly. She was not prepared to admit it, but she felt strongly drawn to Koril.

In the days that followed, Nita concluded that their encounter had to be the will of the Force. A part of her wondered if the woman would actually come, and when the Zabrak did indeed meet her in the hangar that morning, she took it as confirmation. She believed her path to be set. Help she would, just not in the way her former colleagues had wanted her to.

She is less certain of it now. I barely managed a few hours, she rages inwardly, how the hezmana am I going to keep it up? And just what manner of sadist decides to befriend the person whose entire clan got killed by her own Order? That Koril is as yet unaware makes it no less sadistic, she muses. More likely it's quite the opposite.

There's no way to get out of it now. All I can do for the time being is keep an eye on her and try to act less... strangely. End note: I know Star Wars has plenty of alternatives to "what the hell", but I've always found Farscape's "hezmana" to be hilarious and incredibly expressive, so I'm stealing it. NEXT CHAPTER

[lorewarden]

OC x Mother Koril: Part 4 - Meet the Crew

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) Koril is staring up a massive starship. The Purrgil is a BFF-1 bulk freighter - at 120 meters in length and 75 meters in width, it was an impressive sight, although it was several times smaller than the space-faring whales it was named after. Near the open cargo bay doors stands a lanky teenage Weequay girl barking orders at the loader droids. Five astromech droids are zooming across the ship's hull, conducting final pre-boarding scans. Hex, the Besalisk whom Koril recognizes from the cantina, is chatting with a serious Toydarian. Every few seconds he energetically waves one of his stocky arms and the Toydarian is forced to dodge it, his insect-like wings whirring frantically.

A distinctly human head pops through the doorway of the passengers' entrance, eyes darting around the hangar bay before settling on Koril.

“Hi!” Nita waves and motions her over. Koril strides towards her new acquaintance.

“Am I late?”

“Not at all. We still have a few things to wrap up before boarding, and the new people should be arriving soon.”

“I see. How can I help in the meantime?”

“You can keep a lookout. We are expecting a purple-skinned Trandoshan male and a blond, bearded human male”, Nita checks the holopad in her hand, “The names are Ki and Tanner, they're our new security.” She motions at the Toydarian, “And that's our Captain, Jhoram. You'll meet the others in a bit.”

Koril nods, and Nita disappears back into the ship.

Soon enough the two new crew members arrive. They exchange pleasant greetings with Koril and the three go to introduce themselves to Captain Jhoram. “Welcome, all,” he says throatily and shakes their hands. “I think we're all here now. Hestia, Ben-Dao, everythin' loaded?”

“Yes, sir!” the Weequay girl and a stocky Nikto chime in unison.

“Let's go,” Jhoram ushers the three onto the ship, through several winding hallways, and into a spacious room lined with tables and two entertainment modules. Several beings are already seated.

A Sullustan nods and booms “Head count! Rrik?” A miniscule Jawa in a faded black cloak chirps his confirmation.

“Hex?” “Here”, the Besalisk growls.

“Ben-Dao, Noum-Sing?” Two identical Nikto wave.

“Nita?” “Yes”, she responds in a clear voice.

“Hestia?” “Yes”, the teenager echoes.

“And these are our newcomers,” the Sullustan addresses the collective, “Koril, Ki, and Tanner.” The introduction is met with a general murmur of welcome. “My name is Garr, I'm the First Mate and Comms Officer on this ship. Come, I'll give you the tour. Nita, Hex, fire her up.”

“See you later,” Nita mouths to Koril, who smiles affirmatively.

Garr first shows them to the sleeping quarters, three tall rooms with bunk beds (“Chuck your bags in here for now”), then to the adjacent medbay, fully-stocked (“Just in case, just in case”, he reassures them), and to the comms room (“Nobody touches anything in here without my say-so. If you need to make a long-range transmission, you talk to me first.”)

“I didn't see any gun ports,” Ki hisses in clumsy Basic.

“That's because there are none”, Koril is suddenly alarmed, but Garr continues “The outer hull is strong enough to withstand a minor nuclear blast, and the shielding is 350 SBD.” Judging by Tanner's approving hum, this information should put her at ease. It doesn't.

“How many potential entry points?”, she asks.

“Three,” the First Mate responds, “But you should only be concerned with two. The one in the cargo bay is protected by an automated defense system, and anyone trying to go through there wouldn't dare to fire back or they'd risk damaging the cargo.”

He takes them to the middle of the ship and up a flight of stairs, into a long room with a low ceiling just beneath the thinner, inner hull. “They try to cut in from above...”

“And we pick them off one by one,” Koril finishes Tanner's thought.

“Just so,” Garr is clearly pleased.

The second point of entry is a cramped hallway towards the back of the ship, a mere 15 meters away from the engine room. She immediately determines this to be the priority. Take out the engines and we'll be dead in the water.

“That's pretty much it for now. You three have any questions, you come to me. Any problems, I'm your first stop – don't bother Captain Jhoram unless absolutely necessary. That understood?” An affirmative murmur. “Excellent. Let's get back to the others.”

As if on cue, the Captain's voice crackles from the intercom.

“Ladies and gentlebeings, please make your way to the common area and prepare for takeoff.”

End note: Which parts of the lore are you gonna use?

Me: Yes. NEXT CHAPTER

[lorewarden]

OC x Mother Koril: Part 3

(Part 1) (Part 2)

Eleven months ago

Nita is pacing furiously.

“After all of this... What precisely do you need me for?”

Master Kelnacca stifles a reprimanding roar. Young Master Sol is standing at attention, his expression unreadable, and Padawan Torbin seems awfully captivated by the rotating hologram of Brendok in the middle of the chamber.

Master Indara shoots Nita a disapproving look, but her tone is even when she replies.

“We have evidence that one of them managed to escape. Ordinarily this would not be an issue, but this one”, she changes the holo to a blurry image of an auburn-haired Zabrak female, “we believe to have been their second-in-command. The investigation team sent by Master Rwoh has been scouring the area, but so far they have not been able to track her down, and they are positive that she is still planetside.” She sighs. “You're one of the best trackers we have. We need you to find her and apprehend her.”

Nita shakes her head. She knows the reasoning, but makes no effort to stop herself from asking “And I don't suppose we can leave the poor woman well enough alone? It's bad enough that you killed her entire clan,” Torbin shifts in his chair uncomfortably. “Now you want her arrested. Have you no conscience?”, she adds venomously.

“She is a Dark Side user and she now has every reason to despise us. You know what happens when people like that have a vendetta,” Indara responds, not unkindly. Nita can hear a note of fear and pleading in her voice. “I'm certain I speak for all of us when I say that our conscience will never let us forget this unspeakable tragedy. What we can do now – what you can do now – is prevent further damage. You know this.”

“I do not believe”, Sol interjects softly, “that she is currently in any state of mind to be plotting a vendetta. Whether that will change in the future is not for any one of us to say. However, for her own good, she needs to be brought in.”

A heavy silence falls over the chamber.

“Apologies for my tardiness”, the door opens to reveal Master Vernestra Rwoh. “The High Council meeting ran long.” She greets her fellow Jedi with a light bow. “Has Master Shairin been briefed on her mission?”

“I leave for Brendok first thing in the morning”, Nita responds formally. She knows how far she can push her former Master – despite her somewhat curt exterior, Indara had always encouraged her to speak her mind – but Vernestra was a different story. The Mirialan Jedi was as conservative as they came and brooked no argument. Any insubordination, perceived or real, would be met with severe consequences.

Should I still care?, Nita's mind was racing as she makes her way to the hangar bay.

Nita spends the entire night attempting to rationalize her former Master's actions, repeating to herself that it was Torbin who drew his lightsaber first, and the older Jedi had no choice but to follow once the fight had started - but Indara was his teacher. She ought to have had better control over her anxious young Padawan. She ought to have seen that Torbin was shaken from his brief taste of the witches' power, and that the boy would be overly quick to react at the slightest provocation on their part. Had Indara even bothered to talk to him after the Clan Mother released the grip, or had she simply pushed him away in fear?

In the morning, she is presented with the opportunity to ask that very question, when Indara comes to meet her in the hangar. The older woman wordlessly pulls her into an embrace. In spite of herself, Nita holds her tightly. She is uncertain as to how long the mission would take and does not wish to leave her former Master with harsh words. It is Indara who finally breaks the silence.

“If not you, Vernestra would have simply sent someone else. I have every faith that you will conduct your mission honorably. Go, and do what we failed to do.”

“I will”, Nita promises. “You and Sol make sure to do right by that child. Don't let Vernestra bully you.”

Indara nods, wistful smile playing on her lips. “May the Force be with you.”

“And with you, my friend.”

A brief final hug, and Nita scurries onto the ship.

Inexplicably, she cannot shake the feeling that this might be the last time she will see Indara in person.

End notes: I swear I hadn't originally planned on part 3 being a flashback chapter. Looks like I've taken the show's structure to heart, so let's just agree to call this Acolyte fanfiction in every sense :D

At the time of writing this, we don't know the full story of what happened in Brendok - I'm running with my own theory. NEXT CHAPTER

[lorewarden]

OC x Mother Koril: Part 2

(Click here for part 1)

“Mo... Koril”, she mumbles. “So, Nita, are you local?” she inquires more loudly, hoping to cover her near-blunder. To her relief, the human appears not to have noticed it.

“My crew and I use Nar Shaddaa as our base of operations, but no, none of us are local. We trade with Bothawui”, Nita clarifies.

“Smuggle, you mean.” Koril has seen enough Hutt Space to know that any business they conduct with the outside is likely less than legitimate.

The human breaks into a wide grin. “Trade”, she corrects, “We're not spice runners, believe it or not. My employer is a strong proponent of establishing real – legal – ties with other factions. Granted, it doesn't exactly benefit him in the Hutts' political arena, but it hasn't earned him any enemies either.”

Koril prods further, and Nita is quite forthcoming. She learns that Hutts these days have difficulty operating outside their own territories, which has caused the local market to become oversaturated with armaments and spice. The weapons are always in demand, of course, Nita explains, but with the clans fighting over scraps, they opt to stockpile them rather than risk selling to competition. Roggin the Hutt, Nita's employer, is attempting to revive the economy by exporting metals and luxury items to the Bothans, Tionese, and other peoples not affiliated with the Republic. The work is slow, however, and old habits difficult to break.

The Zabrak listens attentively. She is grateful that Nita is too engrossed in the explanation to ask her any questions, and she realizes this is the longest she's spent in conversation with another being in a year. It is not unpleasant. She is barely aware of the bustle around her now.

“So, how long until your next run to Bothawui?”

“Three days, probably. Roggin is scraping up some extra security, so as soon as they arrive, we'll be good to go.” “Are you expecting trouble?”

“No more than the usual pirates and the like, we'd just rather stay on the safe side.” Nita pauses. “Say, you look like you can handle yourself – would you be up to joining us?”

Koril stiffens. “What makes you think I can fight?”

“The fact that you're here by yourself. It means you're either tough or monumentally stupid... And you don't look stupid.”

Koril considers the offer. She hadn't planned on staying on Nar Shaddaa long, much less joining a crew. Getting entangled with the Hutts is risky in the best of times, which these were decidedly not.

On the other hand, it beats having no plan at all.

She regards Nita. The woman seems earnest, and, despite first impressions of the Besalisk idiot, if a drunk is the worst she would encounter on this crew, perhaps she should count her blessings.

“Very well. I'll join you on this run, but I make no promises beyond that.”

“Naturally”, Nita nods, pleased. “Let's see how it goes.”

They exchange holocom frequencies, Nita provides docking bay coordinates, and after a few parting words, Koril decides to make her way back to the shabby hotel in Wormstew Town.

Just Koril, she chastises herself for the earlier slip, mother of no one. Her clan has lain dead in the charred remnants of Brendok fortress for a year now, and her daughters... She had not been able to find them in the world's wilderness, despite weeks of searching whilst avoiding the newly-arrived group of Jedi. Neither could she feel their vibrations in the Thread.

Not only had she proven powerless to protect them, but she had even failed to sense the moment of their deaths.

Just Koril, mother of no one.

***

Nita slumped next to Hex and sighed. Had she overstepped by offering Koril this job? What good would it do either of them, anyway? It was apparent that Koril had not sensed her – otherwise the Zabrak would not have left her breathing.

She had genuinely not expected to see her here. Go figure, she thinks, I've managed to run into the one person I've spent months trying NOT to find...

The person that her former Master had tasked her to find. NEXT CHAPTER