#weequay oc

[xanthouransong]

Buddies for FacetMage on AF!!

[bobafettuccini]

Tagged by @spaceydragons ! Thank you!!

I'm just gonna talk about the Silver Needle Smugglers for this since they're the only star wars ocs I have (and the ones I have the most art for).

Favorite oc: Scarlet! She is like a chewtoy to me :]

Newest oc: Of the SNS, I think it's either Hal or Bear. I'm not sure. At this point, both have been around for about a year - year and a half.

(Above: Hal. Absolutely amazing art by @kkrazy256)

Oldest oc: Scarlet is the first member of the SNS to be created, but in terms of actual age, its Al'verde.

Meanest oc: Probably Gambit. He's been through a lot and has a tendency toward cold calculations. The crew (especially his vod'ika Bear) has been good for helping him open up and melt the ice around his heart.

Softest oc: Bear. He's still a kid, so he's fairly naive. Little guy has an earnest, kind heart.

Most standoffish/aloof oc: Scarlet, but this is mainly because she has no idea how to talk to people (autistic queen). For a medic, her bedside manner is abysmal.

Dumbest oc: Does Stinky the tooka count? He has less than a single braincell, bless him.

Smartest oc: In terms of formal knowledge, it's B33-T13 (pronounced like Beetle!). Hal's explorer droid has permanent access to the space internet. In terms of experience/street smarts, Hal and Capt. Haart are about equal.

Horniest oc: Hal. Easily.

OC I'd bang: None of them, I am ace 💜

OC I'd be besties with: I think I'd get along well with both Scarlet and Gambit. They're both fairly quiet people like myself, and we three share many common interests like art, reading, and nature.

Tagging: Whoever wants to join in! I'd love to hear about your ocs!

[river-mort]

My fav oc he's just different shades of black

[cakbanedraws]

some doodles for @mr-ratz >:3

Hondo was complaining in front of Aurra, because he doesn't want to carry his son., Mushazi. Yeah it's one of mr-ratz OC and I like his design btw Meanwhile, it ended at the last doodles I did hehe

[thebluevipersden]

Yrsa assembled a useful helper for Courier. Since the boy's life is immensely busy, the mechanical animal helps to keep order and does the chores around him, but if necessary, it can also prove to be a useful companion on dangerous missions. The little guy also suitable as a pet, it just needs some charge and sometimes a pat on the head. Our main inspiration behind the droid was the Boston Dynamics' adorable robot dog, Spot. Since they also canonically exist in the Star Wars universe:

Courier: @river-mort 's stunning weequay OC Yrsa: My engineer girl OC The Robo Doggo is our OC with River, it was born during our conversations. 💛

[lovebugmusings]

send fic recs for commander cody x reader, obi-wan x reader, or cody x reader x obi-wan. or send me asks about my clone oc's!! i wanna talk about my boys bench, otto and suds

[sinisterexaggerator]

Series Introduction: Tales of (Rebel) Scum and Villainy + Fic Introduction: The Scoundrel of Sriluur.

Welcome to the starting point of my magnum opus. This is, and will be, an ongoing, mostly canon-compliant series involving multiple characters, multiple ships, possibly a “reader” or two, and a various assortment of OCs written in what I like to think is meticulous detail.

This introduction will be used as a reference point for those who are new to the series, and is crossposted to Ao3 in the "notes section."

The span of time for this particular entry will begin in 57 BBY, as Hondo Ohnaka is never given a canon birthday, but I like to assume Weequay age at a slower rate, as Hondo is still alive and kicking at the time of the Sequel Trilogy, residing at the Black Spire outpost on the planet Batuu where he owns and operates Ohnaka Transport Solutions.

This fic is only the beginning; these writings will be arranged in a series I will call “Tales of (Rebel) Scum and Villainy,” each story set in a different time period. Some may be shorter or longer than others, some may focus on other characters entirely, but the most prominent character will be Cad Bane (his birthday is said to be in 62 BBY, so it makes sense to me to start chronologically with Hondo, though their stories will very much be intertwined).

This story, The Scoundrel of Sriluur, will contain a deeply flawed mother-son relationship, poor examples of parenting, child neglect, poverty, theft, lying, cheating, religious conflicts, family drama, slavery, and canon-typical behavior and violence.

I should mention that Sriluurian, the language of the Weequay, "is formed by guttural mumbles and subdued whispers." It also uses hieroglyphs as a written form. It is a language used to communicate with people from other tribes, as Weequay from the same clan/tribe could communicate via their pheromones and did not need to use spoken language. "As a result, speech was only a secondary form of communication for Weequay, and they seldom spoke a whole sentence, resulting in Humans mistakenly believing the species to be unintelligent." Throughout this fic, I will use [[text that looks like this]] when Weequay are communicating with one another.

Eventually, you will meet a whole cast of canon characters, which of course includes the entire Star Wars menagerie of bounty hunters. I will use and reference canon events in my stories, but I will also use what little information there is about Cad Bane and Hondo Ohnaka to flesh out my own ideas.

In the future, expect there to be smut and explicit sexual content, as well as examples of toxic relationships, domestic violence, group sex/orgies, rough sex, non-consensual elements, sexual related trauma, off-color jokes, teasing, and an intersex Cad Bane who has both male and female parts, including a cloaca, hemipenis (like reptiles), underdeveloped paired ovaries (which may or may not be capable of "laying" eggs like Duros in legends/canon), oviducts, and other internal sex organs used primarily for pleasure sensations, which shall be explained in context.

Fair warning, ships will include Bane with Jango Fett, Hondo Ohnaka, original characters including a female Jedi, a retired clone, and Shriv Suurgav from Battlefront 2 (who is also a member of the Duros species), however, Jango Fett and Hondo Ohnaka are the primary ships. Hondo also experiences pairings outside of Bane, including original characters and Aurra Sing.

Though this series will have a lot to do with the various relationships between Bane, Hondo, and others, it does not completely revolve around sex, but it will be a very big part of it, as I am first and foremost a smut writer. You might say this is a love story between two very bad people who deserve each other, and I am thrilled to bring "Banaka" to the fandom.

Finally, a hat tip to @allsystemsblue on Tumblr, as she has helped me to brainstorm on numerous occasions, including talking with me day in and day out about these characters, cheering me on so that I can finally bring this story to life. I will most likely credit her (“Teeth”) as I go, where a shoutout is deserving of extra attention.

As always, kudos and comments/feedback is appreciated. Please “subscribe to user” on Ao3 if you don’t want to miss updates. Also, be on the lookout for another series called “Bounty Hunter B-sides,” which will include crack scenarios and all my weird AU ideas that cannot be included in my “canon.” I can only hope my writing resonates with at least a few people. Enjoy (or not)!

---

Start your journey here.

[aeskanera]

hey, just know that your moodboards are absolutely breathtaking! I'd definitely read more about your OCs if given the opportunity 🥹

🥺🥺🥰🥰

Thank you! This made me so happy 🩷It’s been very gratifying to know that there’s more Old Republic fans on tumblr than I had thought. As we SPEAK I am writing up a whole bunch of gigantic posts about them all that I want to stick under a masterpost. But here’s kinda the quick basics about each of them

Lexie is my Exile (such a clever name, I know). She’s a Zeltron (if unfamiliar, they’re basically just the green-skinned-space-babes trope but with red skin). This is partly because she is THE hottest bitch in the galaxy (which is an integral part of her character. to me) but also because Zeltrons have this whole thing with sensing emotions and that really struck me as like an Exile thing. A story about running away from her emotions and pretending everything’s fine even to herself, healing through forming loving and caring relationships with others who have been through similar trauma

Revan was born Felicyta but post-amnesia she goes by Zyta. So obviously she’s all about redemption and grey morality, but I’m also doing this other thing with her that’s all about how without the burdens of being Revan (leading a Sith Empire, PTSD from fighting a war, her tense frienemy thing with Malak, whatever weird shit’s going on with the Emperor, etc) she’s far happier, healthier, and overall more herself than she ever had been before. So then finding out about her past is like, she’s facing that not just with different memories but basically with a whole new personality as well that has nothing to do with anything the Jedi put in her brain

We love a Chiss agent in this house. Riassa’s full name is way to long for most people to pronounce so her core name is Riassa. I feel like she’s the person version of like an australian shepherd, so elegant and beautiful and poised on the outside but then on the inside is just so full of anxiety. Luckily she’s got the tools and emotional intelligence to handle it well for the most part. I wrote an extensive backstory for her that will probably never see the light of day in its entirety, mostly because Chiss politics are so goddamn complicated

Rakiya is a Mirialan Consular, and she’s all serene and spiritual etc but also the underappreciated beauty of the Consular story is as a mystery novel. So her point of view of the story will have elements taken from Holmes and Agatha Christie novels to name a few. She IS a little old lady who randomly gets involved in murder investigations only to be smarter than everyone else in the room

Speaking of detectives, in one of my bigger posts I describe Lyna the bounty hunter as a hard-boiled 1940s film noir detective. If classic Hollywood made the bounty hunter story as a movie she would be gender swapped and played by Humphrey Bogart. Human gladiator from Rattatak raised by Weequays

Inquisitor is Ulla (last name eventually becomes Kallig). I use manipulative to describe her a lot but it’s more like she’s just really good at PR. Like the way that like TSwift/Princess Kate and Meghan/Met Gala attendees can like destroy the environment or commit war crimes or serve the interests of the ruling capitalist class BUT no one except leftists on tumblr brings it up and they all have the vast majority of people excusing and supporting them JUST by virtue of being conventionally attractive and wearing pretty and expensive clothes while also maintaining an image of being oh so relatable. That’s Ulla right there

Mydha is Thee hero!!!! It’s pronounced like mihd-hah (as in the words MIDdle and HAnnah). It was important to me that the Knight be South Asian coded because of just how much Star Wars as a whole has stolen from South Asian cultures and never gave any credit for it. Her character’s big thing is that she’s an optimist (in like the most positive sense of the word, I’m not like one of those people who think optimists are naïve or idiots or smthing)

The smuggler is a twi’lek called Paavy (similar to Riassa, that’s not her full name). And uh idk how to put it other than that she’s a slut (affectionate). I personally am very pro her having a lover at every port with no negative consequences. She just has sort of commitment issues sort of

The trooper is Nuala, or Sergeant Croí at the start of the story (pronounced sort of like kree). She’s a cyborg with implants on her face and I have a whole detailed story about the injury that caused the need for them as well as how they impact her. She’s also Corellian (from the system not the planet) and if you’ve ever scrolled through some of the wookieepedia pages for Corellia, it’s very…usamerican liberal-centrist “there are some good cops!” type of thing. So that kinda felt right for the soldier character lol. She will learn and grow though

Asha Kûsk is my bb girl little darling. By process of elimination she is the Sith Warrior. She’s the only child of wealthy Sith nobility, a pureblood Sith, a prodigy in swordsmanship, the youngest of my ocs - this girl is s p o i l e d. But like what does all that look like when the parents that baby her and spoil her would also kill her in a heartbeat to promote their own interests? When she’s grown up in an environment of conflict and mistrust as just the norm, that kinda negates a decent chunk of her privilege (on an internal emotional level)

[wizardofrozz]

MY BEAUTIFUL FRIEND I am here with an ask for Kora!!

☕️ Tea: Share a fun fact about your OC!

Luv u!!!

AH MY WONDERFUL FRIEND ❤️ thank you for the ask, I'm so excited to talk more about Kora!

☕️ Tea: Share a fun fact about your OC!

I already shared one fun fact about Kora but don't worry I have more lol

Kora was born deaf and relies mostly on being able to read people's lips when they're talking. Kora can recognize four languages: Basic, Huttese, Ryl (Twi'lek language), and Sriluurian (weequay language). After the Clone Wars start, she does start to pick up Mando'a words here and there.

[leon-anna]

Ok, so it's been quite the long development in posting more context and content for our boys The Underdogs, especially context/content for their supporting cast;

So, Anna and I have come to the decision that we are going to be better at doing that and little by little get those of you who are interested better acquainted with our OCs!

And with such a decision in mind, we thought we'd start off with introducing two of our favorite boys:

🎉Temli & Adequin🎉

Temli and Adequin are two rescue clones that were about to be shipped off for scientific experimentation after being designated 'defective' at the physical ages of 5(Temli) and 8(Adequin)--So mentally, they were 2.5 and 4 years old;

The tell tale signs of their defects noticed by the Kaminoans were 1: Temli's increasingly poor vision+telepathic abilities, and 2: Adequin's growing force sensitivity.

They were on their way to a secret Kaminoan medical outpost on a freight cruiser designated for the transport of organic specimens when grey Jedi Rok Ogk'ror commandeered the vessel after his own ship took irreversible damages in an attempt escape from unspecified pursuers.

The Jedi, who had set out alone on his journey, was not expecting to adopt two helpless clone brothers, inseparable as they were. However, the idea was soon inescapable after spending more time with the two helplessly dependant boys and finding out just what it was the Kaminoans were doing to millions of decommissioned clones.

And so, after much deliberation, Rok Ogk'ror set out to not only free clones with much similar fates to that of Temli's and Adequin's, but to also find safe and secure homes for them that would protect them from the ever-growing empire.

Details to notice:

Temli's & Adequin's tattoos:

Temli wears a rather peculiar tattoo on his arm; at first glance it would seem to be some kind of face or skull, but it is in fact a Sriluurian butterfly; a species indigenous to the Weequay homeworld, and the crest of their Buir's clan.

What would appear to be two identical scars on both of Adequin's cheeks are actually commemorative tattoos that are meant to resemble the markings on his Buir's rubbery skin.

Adequin and Temli's matching lightsabers:

If you look closely, you will notice that Adequin and Temli wield similar lightsabers; these lightsabers were a gift from their Buir Rok who spoiler alert entrusted them to them before his passing.

Adequin's growth and development in becoming a Padawan:

After the first few years of becoming Rok's adoptive adi'ka start to flow by, Adequin takes a flair in the ways of the Force and begins showing much promise in becoming a Jedi as his skills in leadership(as with his younger vod), humility, patience(again, pertaining to Temli), and submission increase daily.

Temli's exploration in science and technology:

Temli had always taken the more unorthodox and explorative way of things from the get go, and so it only made sense that he would show a flair for the analytical; with his skills with technology such as reprogramming command droids and resurrecting a hyperdrive at the point of no return, it was decided that the boy would go on to become one of the best and highly sought after allies to the resistance.

[xanthouransong]

My favorite of all scrimblos

[cheellart]

Welcome to my artblog! ☕ more info what to expect here and social links below the cut:

Hi there! I'm Cheella, cartoonist from Hungary. Here are a few interests and fandoms in a nutshell that are dear to me and I enjoy drawing related fanarts on occasion, randomly. I like to make animations in my spare time. Favourite genres: sci-fi, cyberpunk, tech-noir, steampunk, dark romance & fantasy, folk & space horror Games I'm into: Cyberpunk 2077, Slay the Princess, Subnautica, Soma, Baldur's Gate 3, Disco Elysium, The Talos Principle, Hearthstone, Deep Rock Galactic, Little Nightmares, Detroit: Became Human, etc. Favourite Movies & Series: Alien, Breaking Bad, Blue Eye Samurai, District 9, Blade Runner 2049, Tales from the loop, How to train your dragon, Hey Arnold, Inuyasha, Ghibli movies, Far East thrillers and dramas and many more Things I really like: music (synthwave and metal are my faves), astronomy, science, nature, creatures, machines, robots, huzzles, deep diving into mythologies and folklore, stories about taming or bonding, symbolism & surrealism, comics (I love to browse on Webtoon) MY OC's:

• Cassini, the spacecraft lady • Yrsa, the engineer girl Up here she is with her love, Courier, the shadow-weequay. He is river-mort's OC. • Yuki, the ripperdoc apprentice • Violet, my V from Cyberpunk 2077 ...and there are more of them ;) My personal blogs with reblogs and art by my lovely friends: ☄️ @comet-cantina / with more sci-fi and cyberpunk topics 🐍 @thebluevipersden / with more macabre themes Social links: Ko-fi | Steam | Spotify | TeePublic Music from the reel: Koan - Allegory (Prequel)

Feel free to DM me or drop an ask if you have any question! :) and thank you for visiting my blog! 💙

[river-mort]

харе кришна

[monsterdrama]

A Fool's Errand

Cad bane X Oc

This takes place after the Deception arc

Imprisoned for a crime they didn't commit, one inmate is caught between a rock and a hard place. In the Republic Central Judiciary Detention Center, survival is a game, and the stakes are life and death.

The Republic Central Judiciary Detention Center loomed, a monolith of transparisteel that stood against the Coruscant sky. A gilded cage for the galaxy’s most undesirable, and I’d managed to secure myself a life sentence within its walls, all thanks to a bastard named Sod Sharrd. 

His name was like salt in a fresh wound.

It had all gone sideways so fast. I hadn’t even known what we were hauling. Sharrd was always tight-lipped about his work, and I’d been too foolish, too desperate for credits, to ask. Then, suddenly, Republic security forces were swarming us. Blasters blazing, alarms screaming, the whole nine parsecs. Sharrd, that slimy worm, vanished like a mynock in daylight, leaving me holding the bag—or rather, the crate. A crate containing one thousand kilograms of spice ripped straight from a Republic shipment. One thousand kilos! Enough to keep Nar Shaddaa high for a year.

The trial was a farce. They paraded me through the courtroom like some hutt kingpin, the holo-record of the seized spice shimmering above me like a toxic halo. My frantic pleas of ignorance, my desperate attempts to explain Sharrd’s double-cross, fell on deaf ears. A thousand kilos. Just having that much in my possession was enough to put me away for life. No prior charges, no mitigating circumstances, just a life sentence.

The first few rotations were a chaotic blurb. I was shoved through processing, stripped bare. The clone guards moved with a practiced efficiency that spoke of countless repetitions. The constant hum of the security systems, the echoing footsteps in the corridors, the metallic tang of the recycled air—it was a sensory assault. And then came the shearing. The cold blade against my scalp, the sudden lightness of my head—it felt less like a procedure and more like a punishment to keep me in line, to show that I was no longer a person, but a number within these walls. 

three standard months in, and I was suffocating. For a facility this size, the lack of diversions was appalling. Cells, mess hall, exercise equipment—eat, sleep, sweat, repeat It was a convict's life, plain and simple.

Within the prison walls, rumors were currency, traded and consumed like contraband spice, the lifeblood of this isolated world. Keeping up with rumors and the latest gossip was that only chance of keeping your head above water in a big pond like this. 

The latest whispers concerned the recent mess hall riot and escape,  and the name “Cad Bane” was on everyone’s lips. Bane’s arrival a week prior had electrified the prison. Apparently, this wasn’t his first visit, nor his first escape .

The mess hall was a seething with hungry convicts, all clamoring for today’s meal: green goo. Yesterday’s gray sludge had been equally appetizing. I held my tray under the automated dispenser, the resulting glop resembling something a sick tooka would leave on a rug. Suddenly, I feel a heavy, scaled hand land on my shoulder as a Karkarodon pushes his way in front of me.

"Outta my way, shrimp," he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the floor. His grip on my shoulder tightened, the pressure like the crushing jaws of an anooba. He sent me stumbling backward, colliding heavily with the Weequay behind me. The Weequay's tray, laden with the same dubious green goo, flew upwards, splattering across his chest and face. The metal tray clattered to the durasteel floor with a resounding clang.

An abrupt silence descended over the mess hall. The cacophony of noise died in an instant, replaced by a tense, expectant quiet. Every eye in the hall seemed to bore into my back. The Weequay, his face now a mask of dripping green, glared at me with undisguised fury. This was my cue to vanish. I mumbled an apology, my voice barely a whisper, and slipped sideways out of the line, melting into the throng of inmates. Thankfully, the clone guards patrolling the mess hall were on high alert. No one in their right mind would risk a full-blown brawl under their watchful gaze—not unless they had a death wish, or a fondness for solitary confinement.

A nearly empty table beckoned from the far side of the mess hall. I slinked towards it, hoping to blend into the background and avoid any further attention. As I got closer, I noticed three figures seated at the table: a Duros, a human, and a Trandoshan. They were huddled together, their voices low and conspiratorial. I tried to tune them out, but fragments of their conversation drifted over to me: “…big plan…need blasters…” Damn it. Trouble was the last thing I needed. I edged even further away from the table, my appetite vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. I tried to focus on the unappetizing glop on my tray, attempting to shovel it down without gagging.

Then it hit me. There was a reason everyone avoided this table. Glancing at the human, I recognized him as the kid who’d sparked the riot: Boba Fett. He’d been here much longer than me, and for his age, had a fearsome reputation. It was a depressing sight seeing a kid in a place like this, but he always had that hulking Trandoshan, Bossk, at his side. No one would mess with him with the big reptilian brawler glued to him. 

My gaze drifted to the Duros. My blood ran cold. His piercing red eyes met mine, and a jolt of recognition shot through me. His face was a mask of concentration, etched with harsh lines. A scar ran beneath his left eye. He looked…familiar. Then the realization crashed over me like a tidal wave. That was Cad Bane, and I’d just crashed his little party.

Bane cleared his throat, the sound a sharp, rasping croak, and jerked his head to the side. "Get lost," he spat, his voice low and dangerous, a clear command, not a polite request. I glanced around. Several inmates were now watching, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. I looked back at my tray, feigning indifference, hoping he’d just let it go.

His hand slammed down in front of my tray, making me jump. "Do I have to spell it out for you, punk?" he sneered, his face inches from mine. "What part of 'get lost' aren't you getting?" Before I could react, Bane snatched my tray and, in one swift, humiliating motion, upended it. The vile, gelatinous goo cascaded down on me, coating me.The stench, a sickly sweet and vaguely chemical aroma, filled my nostrils. 

"There ya go," Bane chuckled, a cruel glint in his eyes. "Now you can take your food to go."

A wave of harsh laughter erupted from the surrounding tables, echoing through the mess hall. Raw, animalistic howls punctuated the mockery. I sat there, stunned, dripping with the repulsive glop, the humiliation washing over me in waves. 

marketing me as an easy target.

Rage, hot and blinding, erupted inside me. Who did he think he was? In a swift, impulsive move, I grabbed the tray from Banes hand, and slammed it right in his face. The clash of metal echoed through the hall, silencing the surrounding noise.

For a split second, Bane looked stunned, his red eyes widening slightly. A gash now bled freely across his cheekbone, a deep line of green seeped from his scarred skin. Then, the shock gave way to something far more terrifying: hot, animalistic fury. The mirth vanished, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated murder. His eyes, now burning with a cold, predatory light, locked onto mine.

Before I could react, he pounced on me,  my skull cracked against the floor. My vision blurred. I struggled, but he was stronger than he looked. He pressed me down, his hands closing around my throat, his grip a vise. His blood, a metallic tang, dripped onto my face. His cold, predatory eyes locked onto mine. He was going to kill me.

“Stupid brat,” he hissed.

gasping for air, I clawed at his hands, my fingernails scraping uselessly against his scaled skin. My vision swam, the mess hall lights blurring into a single, blinding orb. Panic clawed at me, a cold fist squeezing my heart. I was going to die here, choked to death on the dirty floor. No amount of kicking and thrashing seems to deter him. I try to push at his ribs then a memory hits me like a ton of bricks.Sod was a duos and he had glands on his ribs that were extremely sensitive.

  I twisted beneath Bane, my eyes fixed on the discarded fork lying a few inches away. With a surge of adrenaline, I reached for it, my fingers scraping against the gritty floor. My body writhing like a trapped animal. Finally, I grasped it, the medial cold and clammy in my sweaty hand.

I lunged, putting all my strength behind the thrust. The fork, gripped tightly in my hand, stabbed upwards, aiming for Bane's ribs. Caught off guard by the sudden, desperate attack, Bane let out a guttural roar, a sound of pain and surprise. The fork found its mark, sinking deep into the sensitive flesh beneath his ribs.

Bane's expression twisted in agony. His grip on my throat loosened, and he staggered back, clutching at his side, his fingers closing around the fork protruding from his flesh. For a split second, he seemed vulnerable, his face contorted in a mask of pain.A dark, greenish blood seeped through the orange fabric of his jumpsuit. With a grunt of effort, Bane yanked the fork from his side, the metal scraping against bone. He stared at the bloodied prongs for a moment, his eyes narrowed, before his gaze snapped back to mine, now burning with an even more intense fury.

In that instant, Bane recovered. He lunged, his fist connecting with my jaw. The world exploded. The taste of blood filled my mouth. I staggered back, disoriented.

"Finish him, Bane!" a gruff voice yelled from the crowd that had gathered in a circle around us.

He lunged again, a snarl twisting his lips. I ducked, rolling across the floor, narrowly avoiding the blow. Spilled goo and grime coated my skin as I scrambled back to my feet, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Bane, still reeling slightly from his missed strike and the pain in his side, his red eyes blazing with murderous intent, was on me again.

"That one's fast for a little shrimp," someone muttered.

This time, I didn't wait for him to attack. As he lunged, I met him with a sharp, brutal kick aimed at his bleeding ribs. He grunted, his breath catching in his throat. I kicked again, and again, the force of my blows landing squarely on the injured flesh. He staggered back, his face contorted in a mask of pain and rage. For a moment, I thought I had him.

But Bane was far from defeated. With a roar of fury, he lunged, grabbing my leg mid-kick. His grip was like iron, his scaled fingers digging into my flesh. I cried out in pain, but before he could capitalize on his advantage, I twisted my body, using his momentum against him. I wrenched my leg free, spinning behind him in a swift, fluid motion. My arms snaked around his broad shoulders, locking his elbows against his back. He bucked and twisted, a caged rancor fighting to break free. His muscles bulged beneath my grip, and I could feel the raw power radiating from him. But I held on, my grip tightening, fueled by a desperate surge of adrenaline.

"Whoa! Look at that!" a surprised voice exclaimed. "Shrimps got Bane in a hold!"

A commotion suddenly europe behind me I strained to look back, but the press of bodies and the dim cantina lighting made it impossible. A blur of motion, a glimpse of a guard's uniform before…

Electricity.

Raw, searing pain exploded through my body, jolting me like a struck animal. My grip on Bane loosened, his frame trashing free. I screamed, the sound swallowed by the din, and crumpled to the ground,my muscles convulsing uncontrollably.

Another jolt, more intense this time. The world narrowed, the edges of my vision flickering and fading. The crowd, the cafeteria, Bane himself – all dissolving into a dizzying kaleidoscope of colors. Then, darkness.

The rhythmic pulse of the vitals monitor dragged me back to consciousness, the harsh glare of the infirmary’s overhead lights burning my eyes. My head throbbed in protest, a dull, persistent ache that resonated with each beep. An AZ medical droid, its chrome chassis gleaming under the unforgiving light, hovered nearby, its multi-jointed limbs whirring softly as it manipulated a datapad. The droid’s photoreceptors swiveled towards me as my vital signs stabilized.

“Ah, good. You are awake,” Its metallic voice rang. 

metallic fingers danced across the datapad for a few moments, logging data and running diagnostics. Finally, it set the device aside, its unwavering gaze fixed on me. 

“You have sustained a concussion, a minor fracture of the mandible, and multiple contusions. Observation in the infirmary for one to two standard diurnal cycles is recommended.”

The droid’s clinical assessment brought a wave of relief, but that relief was quickly swallowed by the return of vivid, painful memories. The cafeteria. Bane.The electrostaff. The images flashed through my mind like a holo-reel gone haywire, each frame a jolt of pain and regret. My hand instinctively went to my jaw, gingerly probing the swelling.

‘Well, well. Look who's finally awake," Bane chuckled from across the room, the sound low and gravelly, like rocks grinding together. My blood ran cold. Oh god. They'd roomed us together. My gaze darted to him. He was watching me, a predatory glint in his red eyes, a smirk playing on his scarred lips. He was no longer in the orange jumpsuit, but the sight of him, even under the sterile lights of the infirmary, sent a fresh wave of fear through me. I swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump of dread that had formed in my throat. This was a nightmare.

The thin sheet did little to ward off the chill of the infirmary, or the intensity of Cad Bane’s glare. Sitting up in the cot, I could see him across the room, his eyes like chips of flint.. Whose brilliant idea was it to keep two inmates who’d nearly killed each other in the same room? It was a volatile mix, a thermal detonator with a loose wire.

 Bane was no longer clad in the standard-issue neon orange prison fatigues. The thin blanket draped across his lower body did little to conceal the lean, wiry musculature beneath. Scars, like pale lightning strikes, etched his skin, a testament to a life lived on the edge of a blaster’s flash. His chest was a grotesque tapestry of contusions, the purple and green bruising stark against the stark white of the bacta bandages. 

My stomach clenched, bile rising in my throat. I swallowed hard, trying to suppress the urge to retch as I became acutely aware of my own state of undress. Clad only in thin underthings, I was exposed, vulnerable under Bane’s scrutiny. I felt his gaze drop from my face, lingering on my body. A flush of heat crept up my neck, a stark counterpoint to the icy dread that settled in my stomach. I instinctively clutched the sheet tighter, drawing it up to my neck, a pathetic attempt to shield myself from his  gaze.

“Creep,” I spat, drawing my knees up to my chest.

A slow, predatory grin spread across his weathered features, etching deeper lines into his already craggy face. He shifted on his cot, the metal frame groaning in protest as he moved closer. His expression was unreadable, a mask of cold, calculating indifference.

“That was a cheap shot you pulled in thare,” he drawled, his voice a low, gravelly rasp, like rocks grinding against each other. “Don’t go around thinking’ you’re some big shot now.” He inhaled sharply, the air between us crackling with barely contained menace. “No one messes with Cad Bane.”

I scoffed, forcing a bravado I didn’t feel. “Oh really? You look worse than I do, old man.”

Bane leaned forward, his eyes narrowed to slits. “I wouldn’t be so confident if I was you,” he hissed . “I’ll be out of this place soon enough, then you’ll be sorry.”

A shiver snaked down my spine, a visceral reaction to the raw power that radiated from him, even in his injured state. He was a force of nature, a predator temporarily caged but far from broken. I knew, with a chilling certainty, that he wouldn’t let this go. He was the type to harbor grudges, to let them fester until the moment he could strike.

But I refused to show him any sign of weakness. I had faced him once, and I had survived. I could do it again. 

“We’ll see about that,” I retorted, my voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor of fear that ran through me.

Bane regarded me for a long moment, his eyes assessing, calculating, like a hunter gauging the strength of its prey. Then, his attention snapped to the sudden hiss of the sliding door breaking the tense silence. Two clone troopers, their faces obscured by their helmets, stood in the doorway, their blasters held at the ready. 

“Inmate 1479,” one of the troopers said, his voice flat and modulated, “you are cleared to return to your cell.”

“Let’s go,” the other added, his tone equally devoid of emotion.

As Bane was being escorted from the room, he paused, turning his head slightly towards me. His eyes, cold and predatory, locked onto mine. "You better watch your back from now on, bub," he hissed, his voice a low, menacing growl.

I might have just waded into a rancor pit without a vibroblade.

[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

[rainintheevening]

Wow! Someone remembers those two enough to ask about them. That's cool! Thanks Anon!

These two were a surprise in When You Love a Wild One, really came off the page to me. They're a Weequay father and daughter who live on Jakku. He runs an eatery, and she's a scrapper/mechanic.

hide: What does your OC hide? Why do they hide it?

I'll answer this for both of them.

Hilkyah... hides a few things. Where he was born, what his father did. He’s not proud of it, and I'm not giving his secrets away. He's determined to make a better life for his daughter, and raise her in an honest life. Ner doesn't ask questions about details. She knows her father's father was a bad man, and leaves it at that. Her mother died when she was around 11 standard, but there are no dark secrets there. She got sick, she died, it's Ner and her father, and they make a good life together.

Ner hides that she sometimes cheats people when she's selling parts. Only when money is really tight, and there haven't been regular visitors at the restaurant. She's willing to drive up prices to feed her family, especially since supplies on Jakku can be enormously expensive (think food prices in Nunavut). She tries to avoid it. But she's willing to compromise to survive. Her father isn't. Hilkyah would rather die honest. So she just doesn't tell him. It's only been a few times, but every time, she prays it will be the last.

From these asks!