#swtor family

[legends-expo]

More freebies! Our friends at SWTOR sent us a big box of posters and pins for our attendees! Stop by the information booth at the convention both days to take your pick of posters and pins while supplies last!

[piranha-shan]

A helpful guide to telling Theron apart from his dad.

[bornangelauthor]

November Writing Challenge: Day 16

I Managed to do 1,716 words even though I was distracted and had a couple extra tasks on my plate. Said tasks led me to need destressing and... yeah, multi-tasking.

😅 What can I say #SWTOR is my go to game.

[villavarykino]

Big fans of Star Wars: The Old Republic here - loving the new Gaming Greats 6" Darth Malgus figure from Hasbro. Full review - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YNQzYZRTpsk

[0alix0]

my SW's family photo + a bit of extra angst :>

[persephoneggsy]

went down a deep rabbithole of thinking about blorbos, and my SWTOR blorbo is Quinn, so... I made him a little family :3 I like to think about them interacting with my Sith Warrior, Nes'ria, who also has a decently-sized family, so when she and Quinn get married it's just a huge clan now lmao

All of them except for Rymar are OCs; Rymar we know the name + rank + death of from the SWTOR Encyclopedia under Quinn's entry. I did make up what I think he looks like, though.

miscellaneous facts about the Quinn clan that I couldn't fit in the headshots:

Solesta has a dislike of droids, finding them creepy. She also dislikes cybernetics and cyborgs. Ironically, and unbeknownst to her, her grandson Malavai will eventually end up with a woman whose family owns a large cybernetics company.

Solesta disappeared during a top secret mission when Malavai was around 15 years old. She and her crew were declared officially dead a year after her ship disappeared.

Solesta's husband passed when their kids were young. I imagine he was on track to being a rising star in the Imperial military, but he was cut down by a Jedi or something.

Rymar and Ridal are twins (Rymar is the older one).

Ridal disapproved of Rymar’s marriage to Mianna, believing she was too fragile for him. Despite this, she helps her son care for Mianna.

Ridal is lowkey disappointed that neither her son nor her nephew followed her footsteps into Imperial Intelligence. She doesn't know Halic refused to, given what happened to his father (murdered by a petulant Sith Lord). At least in the medical corps, any Sith he deals with are unconscious or too weak to threaten him.

Halic calls Malavai his baby cousin, despite only being a few months older than him. It annoys Malavai, who nonetheless reciprocates Halic's familial affection.

Halic jokingly complains that Malavai slept with a Sith before he could. He privately thinks Malavai is insane for falling for a Sith in the first place, and worries about his cousin (he later learns he doesn't have to, given Nes'ria's equal devotion to Malavai).

Halic has flirted with every member of Nes'ria's crew. Vette thinks he's a riot, Jaesa was flattered but embarrassed, and Pierce is debating sleeping with him to piss off Malavai.

Mianna witnessed her husband's death at the hands of the Republic force, and the trauma of that, plus her subsequent injury, rendered her largely nonverbal. She has only spoken Rymar or Malavai's name since being admitted to the hospital. The rest of the time, she communicates via either writing or signing.

Many Imperials view Mianna's situation with disdain, describing her as weak-willed and a drain on resources. It's only the lingering prestige of the Quinn family name, combined with threats from her sister-in-law Ridal, that keep such whispers behind closed doors.

There was a brief period after the Battle of Druckenwell that the family feared Malavai had been killed in action. It wasn't until a few weeks after the battle that he contacted them from Balmorra, informing them that he'd been court-martialed and demoted by Moff Broysc.

Ridal assists Malavai in bringing down Moff Broysc, using her old Inteligence contacts to help him abduct the Moff.

My personal headcanon is that Malavai knew Baras would go after his family if he didn't follow his orders, hence the betrayal. After Nes'ria spared him, he reached out to Halic and Ridal, warning them to watch out for any signs of retaliation from Baras. Nes'ria used her family's connections to have Malavai's family taken to a safe place until Baras was defeated.

[jesuistrefatugie]

I'm saying this now

Theron Shan inherited his Bi Diaster vibes from Revan and not Basitlia. "Republic Hero(?) With A Questionable Relationships With A (Former)Sith" is what he inherited from Basitlia.

This includes Satele too.

[reconstructionlegacy]

Ngani Zho Coerced Custody Of Theron

[Zho] had told the Jedi Council and the leaders of the Republic military that he had sent Satele on a vital mission— something he could not speak of for fear of endangering her life. Given Master Zho’s impeccable reputation, none had questioned him. Now, however, the mission was over. It was time for her to return; the Republic had fought too long without their champion. The Sith Empire’s relentless advance had gone too far. She could no longer ignore the Republic’s need. [...] “You promised you would take him,” Satele said softly, gazing down into the child’s wide, wondering eyes. “I will,” Ngani assured her. “If that’s still what you want.” “What I want has nothing to do with it,” she muttered as she reluctantly handed the child back to her Master. [...] As he took the child from her arms, the moment of greatest joy she would ever know ended.

— Star Wars: The Old Republic: Annihilation

BACKGROUND

Ngani Zho trained, according to Lost Suns (admittedly according to Zho the manipulator), Satele Shan, Syo Bakarn, Jaric Kaedan, and Bela Kiwiiks. Obviously, that is not possible for full Padawans, and Satele was under Kao Cen Darach's mentorship in the first trailer (and then he died), so my theory here is that Zho stepped in to "foster" mentor at least some of these promising young Jedi (and gain influence with them).

WHAT HAPPENED

Zho was somehow trusted by the Council (maybe because he partially trained a third of them). Satele became pregnant, went to Zho for advice, and rather than saying "let's talk to the Council, the normal Jedi support structure, which trusts me," he said "I will cover this up. For you." Like a favour.

He said to the Council that she was on a mission, which put a time limit on the 'plan' ("Always with the plan, aren't you?" Zho asks Theron in Lost Suns). By lying to the Council on her behalf, he made it impossible to go to them for support, or at the least heavily implied to Satele that her pregnancy was somehow wrong or shameful.

By isolating Satele from everyone but himself, and putting a time limit on her seclusion, he arranged for her to have no real choice but to give him custody of Theron. (The scion of a powerful bloodline... and possibly even blackmail material against the future Grand Master.)

Then, having secured the custody of Theron, he proceeded to isolate him as he had isolated Satele, and thoroughly abuse him. This is detailed in Lost Suns, and I will not detail it here; suffice to say it began at the earliest when Theron was five, and Theron's life was endangered by Zho, who abandoned Theron upon realizing he was not Force-sensitive.

(SOME OF) THE AFTERMATH

Years later, when Theron is an SIS officer, under convoluted plot circumstances (that is: the plot of Lost Suns), he reencounters Zho. Zho takes another young person, Teff'ith, under his wing, which Theron is unhappy about. (Teff'ith asks Theron, who has used the term 'childhood trauma' about Zho by this point, and will later elaborate with horrific detail that I, once more, decline to repeat, "Scared of him?". Theron says 'no' - you know, like a liar. Anyway -)

(My theory is that Zho was Star Cabal, Revanite, or both, and wanted complete control of the training of the Blood Of Revan... but fuck knows why he did any of this. Your guess is as good as mine.)

I do think, in the text, Zho's treatment of Theron is framed as abhorrent, especially given the cited and open trauma and abuse. There is also a line in Annihilation about him glaring at Satele in a way that reminds me of Theron's textual panic attack when Satele mentions Zho to him elsewhere in the book. Given this, I think it is an entirely reasonable conclusion, even ignoring the fact that he is baby-stealing Jedi georg, the only Jedi known to have actually stolen a baby, that he mistreated Satele, too.

CONCLUDING THOUGHTS

At any rate - Ngani Zho coerced Satele into giving him custody of Theron. Theron does not know this, and assumes Satele chose freely to gave him up.

We can't know what her decision would have been, because she didn't truly get to make one. She may have chosen to give Theron up. She may not have. But as it was, as it happened, she did not have a genuine choice.

TL;DR: Tie-in material makes it quite clear that Ngani Zho, the "Master Zho" in one of Theron's combat lines, coerced Satele into giving the infant Theron into his custody. This was terrible for everyone involved, except Zho.

[revanknightwoman]

[exiledjedi1]

"I never needed to beat you, I only had to let you think you were invincible."

Here's Satele Shan for you all. I love her character so much and she reminds me of a more mature version of Bastila.

[alackofghosts]

she told me / i don't wanna be your friend, so don't get those feelings hurt

[thenachlegacy]

I just think it’s devastating bc it’s canon that it was Arcann who went and brought Vaylin back from Nathema, and during KOTFE if you watch all the cutscenes, even when he’s losing his temper he has a moment where he pauses and tells Vaylin that he’s “not blaming her” for all that’s going down, and acknowledges that Valkorian held her back the most out of all of them and it’s just sooo 🥹 upsetting because they were truly brother and sister, and loved each other and they never get a chance to be a normal FAMILY…

[bornangelauthor]

NaNoWriMo Day 8 Update:

I finished day 8 with 5050 words add and a total of 34,000 words. Then I continued writing and added 1,661 more words! Now I'm going to reward myself by playing some SWTOR with my Australians, since 3:30 am my time is 7:30 pm there time.

[ebitenpura]

Minder, Minder

“Ensign, why don’t you go run a systems check– I need a minute with the agent.”

Raina turns to leave. “I’ll chisel the ice off the pilot’s seat for you,” She says, good-natured and obedient. Eight watches her form disappear up the ramp of the shuttle. She’s young, sweet, and terribly fresh: green in a way he hasn’t known since his Academy days. He’s not sure how she survived in the frigid wastes so long with such a chipper attitude.

Hunter seems to share his sentiments, judging by the slight disapproval in the fold of his arms and the impatience rooting his back foot to the ice floor. He’s at a crossroads for a decision, and Eight zeroes in on the words hanging off the thick of his lips. 

“Ardun Kothe’ll be happy,” He starts, his commander’s opinion relayed first, and Eight patiently waits for the relevant information that comes after the but. 

“But the girl…” There it was. “We agree that she needs to die, right?” Hm. Brutal as ever.

Not that he was complaining. They did agree on that. It was standard procedure; saw too much, heard too much, not useful enough to me, a liability– all judgements that usually ended with new blood buried somewhere deep underground. He knew it by experience and the intimate familiarity of being one such liability in a long age past. You’re a weakness, his mentor had said to him without an ounce of warmth in her voice, looking down on him wheezing for breath on the cutting board floor, unless you become a knife in my belt, I’ll leave you with all the rest.

She’d then extended a blue finger to the misshapen trash bags piled up along the wall, where the remains of her ex-lovers sat in neat little pieces, stinking of chemicals that stripped the hairs from one's nose.

He learned his lesson quickly.

People weren’t people to agents. They were loose ends. Trash to be discarded. Tools to be used. Mouths that talked too much, and eyes that watched too closely. It went the other way around, too.

Which was why Raina Temple could not suffer to live– yet against the voice of Nosta that lived eternally in the cracks of his soul, Eight found that he did not want to sink her body beneath the ice floes with rocks in her gutted stomach, a meal for the fish below.

“She’s not a threat,” He decided, not a retort, his words paced and even.

Hunter doesn’t look convinced. His fingers tighten on his forearm. There’s an unamused twitch in his second eyelid, and his shoulders are set square– relaxed from the outside, bordering on tense from within. Ready to act, while trying to play off that he is. More words stand to crawl from his throat, just above the bulbish shape that is a feature in his species. They called it an apple, like the fruit. Eight lingers over how much force he’d need to break the skin when biting it.

“She’s Imperial, she knows about the Starbreeze, she’s seen me, she’s seen you…” Hunter trails off, and Eight can see the metrics ticking in that wound brain. Eight wouldn’t call it nervousness, but Hunter…is cautious. Too cautious in all the ways he is not. Hunter skims just past paranoia and into the territory of bad faith; good for a classical agent, but too much fear begets no rewards– and jumping at shadows opens just as much room for mistakes as excessive trust.

“If she becomes a problem, I’ll take care of it,” Eight answers with a quirk of his brow, as if the danger she poses hardly warrants a second thought. To him, it doesn’t. She’d never last against him. No reason to send her back to Saganu in a body bag, and he suspects the Aristocra would be less than pleased if he did. 

Hunter’s eyes dance over his face, searching for the source of his confidence with pinpricks of wariness in the minute twitches of his face before he visibly relaxes, taut muscles released from their focus. Like a sigh, his readiness dissipates…but Eight is staring at the intent rolling up from his throat’s apple to his chin, resting on the bottom of his lower lip, weighed with purpose and a bit of that high that all with even a hint of power relish in before the utterance. Something animal in him rises to its hackles. It smells of the leash, the gentle tug before the pull. The freedom with which cruelty is spoken and the safety his prey finds in it. 

Eight has waited long enough.

“Just to be sure, though,

I’m putting a command in your brain. 

O n o-"

Eight lunges forward. The hut is small. The distance is laughable.

"M a"

He sees the shock bleed into Hunter’s eyes as he automatically falls backwards at his sudden advance. His back hits the wall, Eight’s hand fisting his collar.

"T o-"

He slams him against the slope of the hut. The impact rattles Hunter’s skull to an explosion of dancing stars, interrupting his verbage–it happened in the blink of an eye, and before he can so much as get another sound out, the Cipher’s moving again. A bit of spittle escapes Hunter’s mouth, mixed with blood. Too fast. Far too fast. What the hell?!

He’s not going to make it. No room to reach his blaster. Nowhere to get distance. The word, idiot! He tries again, fury welling up in his chest for being played a fool. 

Hunter blinks. Eight’s lips are on his, hotter than a molten star, softer than synth-silk.

His brain shuts off. He feels the other’s tongue slip through, wet, mixing with his saliva.

It takes him a second to register it probing the walls of his mouth, his senses overloaded with fever. He’s struggling to catch up, but he does, and a fierce hunger overtakes him as he claws at the Cipher agent’s back and pulls him closer into his space, their mouths battling for dominance, searching for just the right way to lock together as he eats him alive for more, more, more. His fingers trail down his nape as he bites his lower lip, tastes the wetness there and Eight moans into his mouth– the sound shooting straight down to his hidden pistol. Filthy like a whore.

Yeah. That’s more like it, Cipher. 

Just as he’s in the throes of kissing him senseless, the small part of his brain that has been screaming warnings at him breaks through the haze of his desire and he’s hit with remembering exactly what he’s here for.

The keyword! 

Hunter’s glazed eyes shoot open, the cold shock of recollection assaulting him like water dumped over his head. He shoves the agent away from him– did he really think he could seduce him out of a command? Cheap trick. He sneers.

…Only to find that the agent wasn’t budging.

Eight’s formerly closed eyes are wide open and staring straight at him. From here, he can see the wild glint in his eyes, light reflecting off the obsidian edge of his irises, dizzy with carnivorous desire and a gut-plunging intensity that makes Hunter think he’s been stabbed. Those dark eyes are the black rocks dotting the bay above a sea cliff, and he feels their pull keenly, the call of their void. 

It takes Hunter a moment to find out why.

A white-hot pain overtakes him. He tries to scream, but it doesn’t make a sound besides bouncing uselessly around in his throat. Iron, wet and heavy, gushes forth inside his mouth. The knee jerk reaction of pulling away from Eight sparks even more of that terrible pinch, the stretch of ruined flesh and his tongue alight with the kerosene of suffering– 

You bitch!

Eight’s cheeks are flushed now, and he can see the shy grin that extends from both sides of his face, painted with driblets of red.

He lets go after what feels like an eternity, taking one step back to admire his handiwork. Hunter falls to his knees, gagging and choking, blood leaking out of his ruined mouth. His tongue lolls, swelling with the inflicted bite mark of the other agent, flopping uselessly to the side as he tries to hurl swears at Eight but can only mush malformed invectives together that feel as mutated as his damaged digit.

His eyes spell of murder.

Eight wipes the runoff from his lips with the side of his hand, smearing it with red.

Amidst his rage, he hates himself for the arousal that emerges seeing him so bloodstained. The pool of want settles within the acid of his stomach.

He wants to kill him. He wants to kill the girl in front of him. He wants to have him choke on air for a week. He’s never wanted so badly to drag someone to a closet and lock them in there with him until they beg to do anything but know his touch. He still can’t say the word, and he wants to yell and scream for being in this position. 

Eight’s expression is orgasmic. 

“Mind your tongue,” Eight purrs with as much satisfaction as an overly-fed vine cat, “Minder Seventeen.”

—--------

Kothe confronts him about it later.

“Did you do that to Hunter?” It’s an innocent question, posed with that no-nonsense tone of a father trying to parse who took a cookie out of the jar. I’m not mad, just disappointed, says the stern set of his jaw. Eight doesn’t turn around to look at him from where he’s sitting crosslegged atop an empty weapons crate that Saber emptied. The spymaster waits for his answer.

He slurps a mouthful of instant MRE. Chews the noodles a little. “Dogs will bite if you pull the leash too many times.” He explains, in between a cascade of pasta falling from his mouth. Sluuuurp.

Ardun sighs. “I don’t understand why you boys are fighting, but I trusted Hunter with the codeword for a reason. If there’s a problem, I want you to tell me, Legate.” He says firmly, with a tired air to his stance. “We’re a team. We don’t hurt each other.”

“Already told’ya.”

Another sigh. “Because Hunter hasn’t talked to me either, I’ll let it go– but only this once." Ardun's tone is deadly serious. "I won’t tolerate dissension or hurting the other members of this cell. Time’s short and there’s too much at stake for in-fighting... I hoped you'd understand that. We’ll discuss this again another time.” Eight feels the air waft off the swish of Ardun’s cape as he exits the room, left alone with his lukewarm noodles.

Hm. He sips the broth thoughtfully. He didn’t use onomatophobia this time either. 

Out of the corner of his eyes, he spies something orange around the corner. He felt it before, staring at his lips. Eight smiles and wipes a stray bead of liquid from his mouth, smearing it across the back of his hand for his secret voyeur. 

The visitor quickly disappears. It’s fine, though.

He always comes back. 

[hoiist]

Just you and your anger your oldest friend your closest friend

inbetween coms pic of my Xilelo, much much younger then she is know

[hhyesunn]