(737 replies, posted in Role Playing)

Picking up where I left off, as there were no takers

As Ralin got to his feet. . .

He saw that one of the attackers was running at full speed back down the walkway, leaving his braver friend to face the Mandalorian alone. 

Running wont help you

Ducking a shot that would have taken his helmet mounted antenna off, Ralin fired and sent the man flailing over the edge of the pad into the darkness below.  Holstering his blasters, Ralin unslung his rifle and took aim.  Locking onto the target as he ran, Drakus aimed low.  Need to talk to you.  Before the target could even get halfway off the pad causeway, Ralin squeezed the firing stud.  The green energy bolt found it’s mark, burning into the fleeing man’s flesh just above his left knee.   Satisfied with the shot, Ralin shouldered the weapon again and slowly made his way down the access ramp.

As he started down the walkway toward the downed attacker, the wailing gang member’s cries suddenly fell silent.  Pulling out his right blaster, Ralin carefully made his way forward.  His HUD detected no other life signs in the area, but he maintained his watch.  Approching the fallen assailant, he could see the man was dead, a poison dart to his neck. What the. . .

Pulling out both blasters, Ralin swept his view in all directions for a posbable attack.  “Face me!!!”

*Clap. . . Clap. . . Clap*   Ã¢Â€ÂœMost impressive.”

The sound was coming from a cloaked man who had stepped out of an ally just out of Ralin’s sensor range.  Before his hand’s had come together for the second time, one of Ralin’s blasters was leveled at his head.  “Are you the contact I was to meet?”

“Yes.”  Stopping at the far end of the walkway, the cloaked figure removed his hood, reveling his blues skin and red eyes.  “I represent the Chiss Ascendency.”

Ralin didn’t take his sights off the intruder just yet.  “Why did you have me attacked?”

“We of course we are familiar with your abilities, but some visual confirmation was required.  I must say you handled yourself very well.  I’m confident that you can be most useful to us.”

Ralin eased slightly.  “Is that an offer or a challenge?”

“An offer, to be sure.”  The Chiss bowed slightly.  “I am prepared to offer you a contract for your service if needed for the Ascendency.”

Lowering his weapon finally, Ralin continued to scan for an ambush.  “Doing what, exactly?” 

“We would retain you here on the capital world in case things between the Ascendency and the new order become. . . shall we say, strained.  In that case, we may use you for assassinations, sabotage, and other tasks that fit your skills.”

Ralin wasted no time.  “My service is not cheap.  My LACK of service is not for sale.  I didn’t return to the galaxy to sit back and wait on you or your masters convenience.  Contact me when you have work to be done.  Then I will reconsider.”  Tuning to leave, Ralin holstered his weapons and whispered a command for “Blood Hawk” to prep it’s systems for takeoff.
The Chiss was visibly taken back.  He hadn’t expected a mercenary to reject an offer of money for no work initially.  “But how will we find you again??”

Ralin looked back over his shoulder, the blood red outline around his vizor barley visible through the smog.  “I don’t think I’ll be too hard to find; if you know what to look for.”  With a glace down at the fallen goons, Ralin stepped aboard the Blood Hawk and took off for the higher levels.


(184 replies, posted in General)

virulent_messiah wrote:


Boba and Jango never considered themselves Mando'ade.

No, YOU wait!

Jango NEVER considered himself a Mando'ade!?!  Where do you get that from!?!  He was the last leader of the Mandalorians before the Clone Wars!  You think he woke up some morning and said "To hell with Jaster and ALL he taught me about Honor and the Mandalorian ways.  I'm just watching my own *** from now on"?!?

Boba I can't be sure about, but I have a hard time believing that one, too.  As he was raised by Jango.  It's always been said of him that "He lives by his own code."  Can anybody prove that it's not a Mando based 'Code' that he's living by??

Not trying to slam you, V_M, but you came at me and a couple other's on this thread really hard with at least this one bit of 'evidence' that looks really untrue.  As for 'is farming hard,' hell yes it and the other labors that go with the kind of life that you're talking about is hard.  That doesn't mean Mando's live that way.  I've explained in other posts my feelings about the way they live, and the reasons why.  If Traviss has written otherwise, that's her thing.  I'll always see Mandalorians as warriors, and little else.


(152 replies, posted in Bounty Hunters)

Anything Mandalorian


(737 replies, posted in Role Playing)

Slinging his long sniper rifle onto his shoulder next to his jet-pack and checking to make sure the heavy blasters strapped to his hips were unobstructed for a quick draw, Ralin descended the access ramp of the Blood Hawk and stepped onto the abandoned landing pad.  His heavy boots made a loud report with each step on the grated surface.  Deep in the Coruscant lower levels, what little light that was viable was entirely artificial, even though it was a bright day above.  At this level, thick pollution and clustered buildings created a permanent fog covered darkness. 

Using his helmet mounted scanners, Ralin detected five humanoids moving toward him from the access walkway.  Stepping forward to the edge of the landing pad, he switched his vizor to heat-sensing.  The five men all appeared to be little more then goons.  All heavily armed.

When they were close enough to see him, they spread out, making themselves harder targets.  Drakus had moved too close to the walkway, however, and they were unable to circle him.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” said the obvious leader.  A large, overweight though very strong looking human with a shaved head.  The crossed bandoleers over his chest that were partially exposed by the open long coat he wore held power backs for the repeater carbine that he lazily cradled in his arms.  Some of the others, mainly garbed in ragged coats or jackets patterned with gang symbols and patches, gripped their weapons a little more tightly; obviously intimidated my the dark figure before them.

“You’re not who I was told to expect,” Drakus said flatly. 

“It’s all right, mate.  The guy you want to see sent us.  We’ll take you to him.”

“Lead on, then.”

The leader lowered his carbine, holding it in his right hand by it’s pistol grip so he could hold up his other hand.  “Not so fast, iron man.  He told us to bring you in UNARMED!  I’ll be taking those cannons you got strapped on.”  Taking a step forward, he held out his hand.

Ralin sized up the group one last time.  “You’ll take me as I am.  Or not at all”

With a grin, the leader narrowed his eyes.  “Ok, mate.  We’ll just have to do it the hard way.  GET HIM!!!”

Before any of the gang had time to raise their weapons, Drakus drew his blasters and sent two bolts into the leader’s chest.  The impact from the modified, high yield weapons sent the big man flying back though the air nearly three meters before he touched the dirty surface of the walkway. 

Dropping to a knee, Ralin fired twice more, placing well aimed shots into the two men that had been standing to their leader’s right.  Then he rolled away from the incoming fire from the other two.

As Ralin got to his feet. . .

(Anybody else want to step in?  I have an ending for this scene if not.  Just checking to see if anybody wants to interact with my character yet.  I’ll post again late tonight or tomorrow if nobody comes in really soon)


(49 replies, posted in Creative)

Ok, this is the chapter that intro’s Boba.  Hope you all like my interpretation of his character, and feedback is always appreciated.


Chapter 1   

Two years latter

It was good to be in command Slave I again.  The low hum emanating from the custom MandalMoters engines, the feel of the cockpit and its controls.  Though he would never admit to having such emotions, Boba Fett truly had a strong personal connection to the ship.  He had grown to manhood behind these controls. 

Since losing the vessel over Tatooine two years ago after a nearly fatal encounter with that young Jedi, he had used several different vessels.  Slave II, a Pursuer-class patrol ship once used by Mandalorian mercenaries in times past, had served as his primary vessel for roughly the last year.  It was a decent ship, but it couldn’t compare to Slave I.  The years of modifications and upgrades made to Slave I had created a ship in his own image; fast, efficient, and deadly.  No other ship would ever truly replace it.  Dengar, Fett’s partner since he found Fett dying in the Tatooine dunes, had Slave II in the Oseon system for a little time off with his wife. 

Too bad I can’t just tell him to keep Slave II and go his own way.  The galaxy’s belief that he had died two years ago had come in handy, however, and Fett wasn’t ready to throw away the advantage.  Slave I, a unique and exotic design, was nearly as famous as its owner.  Dengar was also useful for some menial tasks, like arranging contracts with clients Fett didn’t trust with the knowledge of his survival.  Therefore, he decided to have Slave I put into storage.  When came to ‘return from the dead,’ he could reclaim it and pick up his career as the galaxy’s best and most famous bounty hunter.

The collector who had purchased Slave I from the Alliance - The New Republic, I should say.  Still can’t get used to that thought Fett, never had the nerve to enter the vessel.  Rumors about Slave I’s security systems had scared off most buyers and reduced the price to almost nothing.  The only buyer with the guts to purchase Slave I hired a moving crew to transport the ship via freighter to his home on Toprawa.  There, he had it placed inside his beachfront villa as a new piece for his collection of strange artifacts.  Not wanting to ruin the belief that he was dead, Fett infiltrated the villa and took Slave I back rather then trying to bargain for it.  In any case, Boba Fett is not the kind of creature who buys his own property. 

Wonder how many credits it will cost to repair that hole in the roof, pondered Fett.  It had been the most difficult infiltration for him in some time.  The security had been tight.  A communications jammer prevented him from simply contacting the ship’s navigational computer and remotely flying it out.  He suspected that the collector must have a less then legal means of supporting his craving for rare and exotic items, considering the level of security systems employed.  Formerly employed, Boba reminded himself with mild amusement.

As Slave I dropped out of hyperspace, the planet Bandomeer raced into view.  As Fett kicked in the sub-light engines, he set course for the orbital station’s parking hangers.   


How much more boring can this get? 

Lieutenant Surran and his two wingmen were halfway through their patrol shift.  With all that’s happening in the galaxy, command sticks a whole garrison here on Bandomeer; about as far from the action as you can get.  And I get stuck here watching them.  Surran banked his X-wing to the left, keeping to the predetermined flight plan. 

Suddenly, Surran’s comm unit broke through his mental grumbling, “Blue flight, this is Beta control.  A ship has just entered your sector.  Its transponder codes appear clean, but our initial scans show that it resembles a ship reported as stolen from Toprawa.  You are to intercept and detain.  An assault team is being preped and will board the vessel when you have stopped it.  Green flight is also scrambling and will assist if necessary.”

“Roger that Beta control; moving to intercept.”  Lieutenant Surran slid his blast visor into position over his eyes.  “Blue flight, this is Blue leader.  Move to attack formation three; and charge up your ion cannons in case this barve doesn’t want to cooperate.”  Bout time we got something to do. 


Boba Fett’s masked gaze snapped to the threat indicator that had suddenly come to life.  X-Wings?  What are they doing in this sector?   Three of them were coming straight for him.  As Fett considered prepping his weapon systems, his sensors picked up five more fighters coming from what appeared to be a new hanger on the space station. 

“Unidentified vessel, by authority of the New Republic, you are ordered to stop and prepare to be boarded.  Failure to comply will re. . .”   Fett switched off his comm unit.  He them performed a bottom-over-top loop that 180’ed his course in the blink of an eye.  I don’t have time for this.  Too much Republic activity here to safely store the ship, anyway.  What are they doing here?  Pushing Slave I’s throttles to the max, he began setting new hyperspace coordinates.  As the navi computer processed the destination, Fett looked up in time to see a large warship drop out of hyperspace directly in front of him.  A light indicating an incoming message from the dreadnaught prompted Fett to turn his comm unit back on. 

“. . . and after that, you miserable thief, I’ll have your skull mounted in my TROPHY ROOM!!!”

So, the collector really was angry about the hole in the roof, thought Fett.  He aborted his jump to hyperspace and made a sharp turn to his left.  As he did so, the number dots on his sensor screen grew larger as the Dreadnaught launched its own fighters.  This makes things a little more interesting.


Who the hell is that?!?   Ã¢Â€ÂœBeta control, this is Blue flight leader.  An unidentified warship has just dropped out of hyperspace and appears to be pursuing our target; how shall we proceed?”  Lieutenant Surran watched as the dreadnaught turned in response to the smaller ship’s maneuver. 

After a few seconds, the control station responded.  “Blue flight, this is Beta control; new orders incoming.  The larger vessel has been ID’ed as a pirate vessel.  More friendly units are on the way.  Hold position until reinforcements arrive.”

     Ã¢Â€ÂœAcknowledged, Beta control.  Holding position.”  Surran and his flight pulled back on their throttles and turned onto a parallel course with the dreadnaught.  Five old but still common Z-95 Headhunters left their mother ship and streaked after the fleeing vessel.  Their using their ion cannons.  Whoever’s in that dreadnaught, he must want that guy alive.  Poor bard doesn’t have a chance.

Lieutenant Surran was about to contact control and ask if he should assist the fleeing vessel when it again made a 180 loop. 

“Is that maniac attacking?!? ” called one of Surran’s wingmen.

“Keep the comm clear, two.  But yeah, I think he is.”


“What is that thief up to?”  Zan Miz’var, pirate and collector of unusual items, squinted through the forward transparisteel viewport of his flagship as he tried to make out what his latest purchase was doing.  Then he saw the red bolts firing from Slave I’s laser cannons.  In the seconds that it took for Slave I to pass the pursuing Headhunters, it destroyed two of them.  And rather then turn away from the oncoming dreadnaught, Slave I kept coming right at them!   

“Lock on with our turbo lasers and fire   Let’s just call it a bad investment and end this.”  Zan was not pleased with the order, as Slave I was an excellent addition to his collection, and a bargain at that.  However, watching the craft coming at him sent shivers down his spine.  He had been a follower of the late Boba Fett’s career.  No living creature in this galaxy can fly Slave I that well.  Too many of the systems were voice coded.  The only one who could be at those controls is . . .  But that’s imposable.  Maybe Fett had a partner nobody knew about who was familiar with flying Slave I.  Still, is it really imposable?

The panicked voice of Zan’s tracking officer cut into his thoughts.  “SIR  The target has dropped from our tracking sensors; we can’t get a lock! ”

“Check your system, find the problem now,” Zan ordered.  He looked back out through the view port as Slave I cut loose with its lasers on the Dreadnaught’s forward shields.  Heading strait for the larger ship’s bow, Slave I came incredibly close to a collision.    It dove underneath the dreadnaught just before striking it.  Zan turned from the view port to his tracking officer.  “Where did he go? ”  The officer could only give a befuddled shrug. 

Zan’s second officer was also looking through the forward transparisteel port when Slave I disappeared from view.  Still looking toward the ship’s bow, he pointed out the view port, “What’s that?” 

Zan looked and saw a small cylindrical object slowly sliding across the forward shield.  “That’s a seismic charge, SHIELDS FULL FORWARD, PREPAR FOR IMPACT!!!”

The shield control officers quicklypushed the proper levers all the way and watched as the forward shield indicator lights went bright green.  “Forward shields at maximum, Sir!”

Looking again at the canister shaped device, Zan and the command crew braced themselves for the coming explosion.  A moment later, the device continued to harmlessly bounce along the shield as the dreadnaught moved under it.  It was a trick!

His gaze darted back to the shield status board.  Zan felt a knot tighten in his throat when he saw the aft quarter shield’s indicator light was a dim yellow.  “EQUALIZE THE DEFLEC . . .” Zan’s words were cut off by a shuddering explosion.  Slave I had fired a full salvo of Dymek missiles into the rear quarter.  “Get the deflector shields equalized now ” 

The panicked defense officer looked to Zen.  “Sir, our shield generators were overloaded by that last attack, all our deflector shields are off line!”

Zan, doing his best to compose himself, looked back to his young lieutenant.  “Tracking, it’s up to you.  If you can get a lock, we can blow him to atoms!"

The tracking officer was nearly in tears.  “I’m sorry, sir.  He’s jamming us somehow!  There’s nothing I can do!!”

Then it’s true.  Only Boba Fett could do something like this.  “We’re in over our heads.  Plot a course back to the station.”

“There he is; to port!” shouted the second officer.  “Our fighters are right on him ”

Zan looked over his left shoulder out the bridge’s portside transparisteel viewer.  He had assumed the surviving fighters had been destroyed by now.  There were only two now.  Slave I was heading strait at the dreadnaught’s bridge, the fighters right behind it. 

As Zan watched Slave I pass less then a couple meters from where he stood, his eyes were caught by the fake seismic charge.  It had drifted right up against the bridge, and a red light was starting to blink on it . . .


Lieutenant Surran and his wingmen had just joined with their reinforcements when they saw the explosion.  It engulfed the whole of the dreadnaught’s bridge where the two Z-95s and the ship they were pursuing apparently collided with the larger vessel.  When the flash and flying debris subsided there was no sign of the smaller vessels.  The dreadnaught, its hull breached and exposed to the vacuum of space, was breaking up. 

Surran’s wingman again came on the comm unit.  “What happened?”

“Not sure.”  Surran continued to study the Dreadnaught as it lost structural integrity.  “Looked like the smaller ships ran right into the bridge.”

“Sure seems weird, that guy looked like a serious pro.  Hard to believe he’d 'accidentally' run into something like that; and at least one of those fighters would have pulled up.”   

“Yah, well, he pulled some close ones back there.  Guess he just ran out of luck; and the explosion must have fried the Headhunters to.  Come on; let’s get over there and see if anybody got out.”


(35 replies, posted in General)

All that I can see that was different was the gauntlet color (and the jet-pack it different?), so why the debate?  I't Boba, we love him whatever he's wearing!

(I like the red gauntlets better, by the way  big_smile )


(131 replies, posted in Serious Geeking)

I would say the Boba Fett FatHead that stares at me as I visit his site. . .   But that's too awesome to be geeky

So probably the 30th Anniversary:Saga Legends figures/toys that I've been collecting; that is if the 5 year olds don't beat me to them

Here's a rough recolor of what mine would look like. 

http://cid-086a971ab6dab929.spaces.live … lideshow=0

The only things I'd change to it is I'd use a Jango style armor for the upper body (shoulder guards and vest under armor are heavier), a more 'blood red look around the visor (it got faded out when I scanned it over to the PC I use now), maybe thigh guards like Jango's, and 2 heavy Mandalorian blaster pistols, one straped to each leg


(16 replies, posted in Serious Geeking)

Black is for 'Justice'??  Damn

I still like it; but was hoping it was something more like "Honor," or "Warrior"

If black is Justice my guy must look like a Mando cop  tongue

Anybody know the meanings of other colors?


(266 replies, posted in Bounty Hunters)

Black armor with tall black boots; gray flight suit; red trim around visor; dark blue sash under ammo belt


(737 replies, posted in Role Playing)

(Story clarification, please

I was thinking that there were 3 sides in this conflict: Skywalker, the Remnant (Chiss), AND the Rebels.  But I was rereading the opening post and noticed that it says the Rebels fled to Chiss space.  Does this mean that the Remnant and the Rebels are working together?? 

Just wondering, and thanks)


(737 replies, posted in Role Playing)

(thanks Zoncxs; entering now)

Shortly after dropping out of hyperspace, Ralin moved the Blood Hawk closer to the massed Peacekeeper fleet over Coruscant.  He quickly recognized that the gigantic warship at the center of the formation was a new class.   

Impressive; already this new lord of the galaxy has created a symbol of terror to impress and suppress the masses.  I wonder if it’s as over-rated as the last few ‘ultimate weapons’ that the previous regime created.

The Blood Hawk’s sensors quickly picked up the approaching flight of TIE fighters.  Ralin’s com unit came to life as expected. 

“Warning; you are approaching a Peacekeeper military formation.  Adjust course to one of the sanctioned civilian entry routs to the surface, or give the proper access codes to receive landing instructions.”

“Affirmative,” responded Drakus.  Turning away from the fleet, he moved the Blood Hawk towards the nearest space lane entering orbit.

You’ll have your chance for my service, Skywalker.  But let’s hear what the opposition has to offer, first


(153 replies, posted in Film and Television)

"What if he doesn't survive?  He's worth a lot to me"  Boba to Vader

"The Empire will compensate you if he dies; PUT HIM IN!” Vader to Boba

All while Han and Leia stand right there listening.  One of the funniest moments in any of the movies for me  big_smile


(737 replies, posted in Role Playing)

Fett_II wrote:

(so does this mean I'm in?)

(Wondering the same thing (this is my first RPG; waiting for someone to give me an in  tongue ))


(737 replies, posted in Role Playing)

The hum from the Hyperdrive was soothing.  The last contract had been long and hard.  But it was time to get back to what he loved.  Battle 

It had been a long time since he had been in Known Space; or so it is still called here.  Fighting races of aliens not yet cataloged in the service of great Empires yet to be recorded in the Imperial Library itself had tempered him greatly since leaving Mandalore at the age of 14.  Those who survive the Wild Space are few.

The galaxy is in even more turmoil then when he had left.

Good for someone in my business Ralin thought with a dry smile.  With the fall of the Emperor and Vader, the question now was which side to pick; if any.  Skywalker was offering high bounties for Force users who didn’t join his cause.  He, the Remnant, and the Rebels alike were offering good contracts for skilled mercenaries.

If events fell in a certain way, the entire galaxy might fall into chaos.

Honor can be won in chaos; not to mention a large number a credits.  Even after the trials of the Unknown Regions, this war could prove an interesting challenge for my skills

A light flashed on his control board, accompanied by a warning message transmitted into his ear through his helmet.  He was about to leave hyperspace.

Time to see which side wants me more; this group, or their enemies

*EDIT*  wrong way, has been in Wild Space, not the Unknown Regions


(737 replies, posted in Role Playing)

Hey Mandalorian Assassin!  Not saying you can't use is, but did you see my guy's armor description?  We're going to be looking a LOT alike!  Check out the link I edited into the description.  And I didn't steal your idea for the red visor outline, I've had the recolor for some time.  Guess we both just have really great taste in Mando armor!  Anyway, since we look alike, should we work together or hate eachothers guts in this RPG??

Will work on a post as soon as I get back from work tonight


(737 replies, posted in Role Playing)

(Ok, I'm in

And don't worry about the Clan; I'll just go in alone (less confusing for everyone; me included  tongue ))

                                                             *     *      *

Name: Ralin Drakus

Age: 25

Species: Mandalorian

Occupation: Freelance mercenary/Bountyhunter; Follows a strict Honor code and will only accept missions that fit

Loyalties: To his Clan and Clan Brothers/Sisters

Weapons: Custom sniper rifle; Matching Mandalorian heavy blaster pistols(strapped to legs Jango Fett style, but a little higher);Jet-pack mounted rocket, usually a high explosive warhead
Gauntlet mounted weapons/gadgets include: Dart/Rocket launcher; A micro-grenade launcher; two wrist lasers; A fiber-cord line with grappling hook for scaling/descending obstacles ; A two-prong retractable18 inch blades in right gauntlet (like those used in the Predator movies);And a personal cloaking device recovered from ancient weapons catch on Duxn; Strength enhanced 

Armor:   http://cid-086a971ab6dab929.spaces.live … lideshow=0Black Mandalorian armor over gray flight-suite; features half-cape (like a Snowtrooper’s, but black and heat-resistant); Jet-pack with light armor plating, making it heavier but much harder to damage or accidently start

Appearance:5' 10; Slightly heavy build but still fast; Short military style cut brown hair

Personality: Calm under pressure; Very blunt and  to the point with outsiders, but easygoing and cheerful with Clanmates and friends; Extremely protective of those close to him 

Ship: Blood Hawk   Modified StarViper Assault fighter; upgraded Hyperdrive, Laser cannons replaced with six long barrel Mass driver cannons (which fire a energized projectiles that pass through shields unhindered)

Back to Drako's original hitlist:

Draco wrote:

-hires other mercenaries to do the jobs that he was hired to do

That's called expanding your business.  Unless you can prove that Jango was cowering in a corner while his stringer's were working a job aranged by him, that's an unfair attack

Draco wrote:

-used two wrist rockets to kill two guards, who were right next to each other, and were running away. One rocket or two blaster bolts would have worked.

Never read that, so don't know.  Sound's like bad writting (or bad illustration based on the confusion on whether or not it even WAS a rocket)

Draco wrote:

-does not wear helmet in public, which is not intelligent in his line of work

You talking about not wearing his helmet in the arena in Ep. II?  Who was going to recognize him??  The bugs??  They're almost totally planetbound (by choice as I understand it due to their hive nature); and if Dooku doesn't already know his face from when they met on Galidraan, then I'm sure Jango feels that Dooku's position as "Republic's Most Wanted" places him in an unlikely position to harm his reputation.

Draco wrote:

-lead thee Mandalorians to decimation for the first time in centuries

As I understand it, Jango led the True Mandalorians back from the brink and was kicking Death Watch BUTT untill betrayed by the Governor of Galidraan; think you wouldn't have fallen for it?

Draco wrote:

-shot Zam when he could have shot Anikan and Obi-Wan

This one I have to aggree with.  I feel this was a flaw by the writers/Lucus; but as you said, it did happen, and it's up to us to interpret.  We know Jango is a Jedi killer; he supposedly killed many by himself at the Battle of Galidran.  So I don't think he was afraid of them.  However, I'm sure he did his research and knew who was guarding Padme', and perhaps knew that those two together were too much for him.  There's all kind's of speculation here about "he should have shot a rocket", "he should have fired a dart into each."  Maybe he did.  Maby 'Mandalorian Assassin' had it right in a way.  He could have taken a shot at one of the Jedi but missed (it was a very long shot); but who knows.

Draco wrote:

-armor is reflects too much light, whick ca attract unwanted attention

This is just nit-picking.  It's hard NOT to stand out in the crowd when you're wearing Mandalorian Battle Armor; and based on some of the earlier posts it doesn't sound like he had any trouble with stealth

All in all, I like him.  Not as much as Boba, I think, but up there.


(49 replies, posted in Creative)

These are Imperial clones of Ep. IV - VI era, not Jango's.  It will become clear later how they connect to Jango's tampering with the originals


(49 replies, posted in Creative)

Here is the second part of the intro.

This one starts taking some swipes at possably established material in Star Wars; and latter chapters will do so even more.  So if any of this is factually imposable, let me know so I can perhapes make changes latter or scrap this as a serious idea. 

If it is imposable, I hope you can enjoy this story anyway as a alternate history.

Here goes!

                                                                    *     *     *

Four Months Latter

Kam Tarik stood, arms folded, ignoring the comfortable chair he had been offered fifteen minutes earlier.  The middle aged senator from Taris stared blankly at the durasteel walls that surrounded him.  His only companions in the waiting room were two armed guards, who occasionally glared at him from their posts around an armored doorway. 

Born to an upper middle class family, Kam used his keen mind and ruthless tactics to take over Taris’s orbital construction yards by his mid thirties.  In his early forties, his enterprises were making three times more than his predecessors had ever earned. 

Then the Empire came.  Nationalizing his construction docks into the Imperial war machine, the Empire kept Tarik as an advisor.  For fifteen years Kam was forced to stand by as Imperial overseers ran HIS company.  When the opportunity finally came, he leapt at the chance to break away from the Empire.  Hearing of the Rebel victory here on Endor, he quickly organized a revolt and ousted the Imperials.  Kam then contacted the Alliance, who greeted him and his planet’s orbital shipyards with open arms.  Now four months later, he stood here waiting to meet the Alliance leader.

Looking at this place, perhaps Taris isn’t so bad after all.  The Alliance of Free planets, formerly known as the Rebel Alliance, had set up its headquarters in the refurnished main complex on Endor.  Though operational, the facility was still in rough shape. 

When the armored door finally slid open, Kam stepped aside for a small delegation of Sullustans as they exited.  A young man followed them into the waiting room and motioned to Senator Tarik, “The Chief Councilor will see you now, sir.”  Kam walked with the aid down a short hallway into Mon Mothma’s office.  Mon Mothma was standing in front of her desk, her customary long white robe offset by her auburn hair. 

“Welcome, Senator Tarik.  I am sorry that I was unable to see you sooner; please,” Mon Mothma motioned to a chair in front of her desk.  As Kam took his seat, Mon Mothma turned to her aid, “Thank you, Malan, that will be all.”  The aid bowed curtly and left through a side entrance.

“It was an unexpected pleasure to get your request for this meeting” Senator Tarik lied as he leaned back comfortably. 

Mon Mothma moved to her chair behind her desk.  “Not at all.  I try to meet all new members of the Alliance in person.  Also, there is a matter of great importance that we must discuses.”

I’m sure there is Tarik thought with no amusement.  No senator is asked to come this far for a simple welcome.  So, how will you try to steal my shipyards, rebel?.  Betraying none of the fear or suspicion he felt, Kam continued with the formalities.  “Please continue.  If there is anything I or my people can do, you need only ask.”

“I have a plan in mind for the concentration of prisoners of war; specifically clone stormtroopers, into a single camp.  We have considered many planets for this camp, and my advisors and I consider Taris the most suitable.”  Mon Mothma leaned back slightly and watched her words sink in.

Tarik’s considerable self restraint failed him as he became visibly shocked.  Is this a joke?  The senator wasn’t sure if he should be amused or insulted.  He nearly laughed as he asked, “You want to turn my home world into a prison camp?  I wasn’t even aware your forces were holding a large number of prisoners.”

A faint grin crossed Mon Mothma’s face; though it was born of her understanding, not from any pleasure.  “In a civil war of galactic scale it is inevitable that prisoners will be taken.  Though stormtroopers typically fight to the last man, the few we have captured on the hundreds of worlds we have fought for and liberated add up to rather a large figure.  You don’t really believe we of the Alliance summarily execute our prisoners like the Empire often does, do you?”

“No, I suppose not.”  Senator Tarik composed himself.  This may be a ruse. I’ll play along; for the moment.  “But why Taris; we only have a small city on the planet’s surface.  All are real assets are off planet;” Tarik carefully withheld any direct mention of orbital facilities, delaying the inevitable confrontation.  “We have no facilities that could even be considered for conversion into such a facility.”

Mon Mothma, despite her reputation as a fierce and unyielding leader, beamed a sense of trust and compassion.  “We understand that.  I will not force this plan upon you, as there is a limited danger.  However, I hope you will give me a chance to explain.” 

“Very well” Senator Tarik allowed, but he remained suspicious.

“My staff and I have done considerable research on your home world since it has joined the Alliance of Free Planets.  We learned that Taris was leveled during the Second Sith War by Darth Malak nearly four thousand years ago.  In all the time since then, less then five percent of the planet’s surface has been reclaimed.  This reclaimed land is in a single, concentrated area directly below the heart of your orbiting space stations; an area that took the least amount of damage during the Sith War.  The rest of the planet is barren except for some smuggler and bandit hideouts in the ruins.  With your permission, our plan is to set up a camp for captured Imperial clones in an area opposite of your city.  They will build their own facility using materials supplied by us.  When they have a livable compound, they will then commence working on a reconstruction effort.  They will build a small, functional settlement.  When they are done, they will be moved and the process can be repeated on some other part of Taris.  You can use the abandoned compound as a lure for immigration to your world.”  Mon Mothma let her shoulders relax slightly.  “It sounds like slave labor, I know.  I rejected this plan myself when it was first proposed.  But ever since the Emperor’s death, the clone stormtroopers in our custody have fallen into a state I can only describe as extreme despair.  Hundreds have let themselves starve to death.  They only existed for the purpose of enforcing the Emperor’s will.  With him gone, the clones apparently feel they have no reason to go on.” 

Senator Tarik narrowed his dark eyes.  “I have never heard of any of this.  I was led to believe that there are still clones fighting with the Empire now.”

Mon Mothma nodded.  “That is true.  Many clones are still fighting for the Empire, but they had officers to look up to.  They were somehow able to adjust to the Emperor being gone.  However, most of the clones I am describing were already in our custody or were abandoned by their officers on Rim worlds, so they could not make that adjustment.  Like your native Taris, hundreds of other worlds joined our cause after the Emperor’s death.  However, a closely held secret is that most of those worlds joined us unopposed only because their stormtrooper garrisons failed to counter the revolt.  Those clones not massacred in their barracks were captured, leading to the sudden explosion in number of prisoners we now have.  Overpopulation in our current prisoner facilities is part of the reason for this proposal.  Also, I feel that if we can get them to do something constructive, it might help to rectify some of the deeds they committed in their past.  With proper reeducation, it may even be possible they could one day become model citizens in the New Republic.”

The two shared a long silence as Kam pondered the proposition.  Senator Tarik finally looked up.  “You said there would be a ‘limited danger’ involved.  To what were you referring?”

“Yes, there will be some risk involved.  The worst possibility being that if the Empire should learn of the camp, they might try to free the clones.  However, we know that ever since the Clone Wars, the Empire has never attached much sentiment to their clone soldiers, or any of their low ranking combatants.  They have also never had a manpower shortage.  Therefore, we have concluded that the Empire views your orbital docks as a much more tempting target than a POW camp would.  In any case, we will endeavor to maintain utmost secrecy for this project.”

“The other risk in a venture such as this of course is a mass breakout.  I see this possibility as most unlikely.  One of my most trusted advisors recently visited our current prisoner facility.  He assured me that ever since the Emperor’s death they barley move around or talk, much less make trouble.  However, that possibility is another reason we chose Taris.  If the entire camp were to revolt, your planet’s inhospitable nature would leave them stranded.  No form of long distance transportation would be allowed to stay at the camp for an extended amount of time, and the camp will be placed at a location too far for them to travel on foot to any settled parts of your world.”

Senator Tarik again thought over Mon Mothma’s words.  If this offer is all it seems to be, Taris and I may be able to benefit in more ways then one.  If only. . .  When he finally looked up, a slight grin spread across his face.  “I think we can come to an arrangement on this.”

Mon Mothma smiled back and offered her hand.  “Excellent!  There are many details that we must work out.  But you must be tired; Malan will show you to your room.”  A moment after she pressed one of the buttons on her desk, the young aid returned through the side door entrance.   

“Until tomorrow then,” said Tarik.

“One last thing, senator.  You now personally own Taris’s orbital shipyards again, don’t you?”

A cold chill ran down Kam’s spine. Now it comes.  Turning slowly, he replied in as even a tone as he could muster; “Yes, I do.”

“Good!  The Alliance needs starships badly, and we are now in a position to pay well for your company’s service.  If you like, I will have the contract my advisers have been working on taken to your room.  Review it when you have the time; no rush.  And thank you again for coming.”

“My pleasure.”  Following the aid, Senator Tarik was completely baffled.  One question rang in his mind that he couldn’t answer.  What’s her angle?


(49 replies, posted in Creative)

Many thanks

It's the second part of the intro and later chapters that will start making real changes (or at least new theories and additions) to Star Wars info.


(49 replies, posted in Creative)

Ok; I'm taking the leap.

This is my first attempt at this sort of thing, so please forgive mistakes.

Also, keep in mind that this is a story with little to no reference checking about the real backstory of planets, charachters, or much of anything else; as at the time I started it (over 2 years ago)I had no idea how much had already been written about Boba and the rest of Star Wars post-Ep. VI.  So much if not all of this is completely imposable.  Just the rantings of a Boba/Mando fan before he even knew there really was much of an 'Expanded Universe.'   big_smile

If any of this IS possable, please let me know; as I'd love to do a more serious work based on this story if possable.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!  Any feed-back is greatly appreciated!

This first part will seem greatly off topic, but the dots will connected latter.

                                           *    *    *



This one's for you, Rebel.

"Fire!" Five bolts of high energy streaked through the trees at a Rebel trooper and several Ewoks.  Sergeant JC 225 watched the soldier he had targeted fold and collapse to the ground. 

"Stance Delta; fire at will."

With that order, the five Imperial Scout Snipers assumed a circular formation and began engaging targets at will.  Endor's dense vegetation and trees were ideal for them.  Unlike most scout troopers, the snipers were issued a camouflaged version of the basic scout armor.  Hidden in the thick undergrowth, the sergeant and his team quickly eliminated the targets in view with a few well aimed shots.  The report from their high power blasters was muffled by the dense surroundings and went unnoticed in the background of sporadic blaster shots and Ewok battle cries that still emanated from the forest. 

Their mission had been to patrol the woods in a relatively quiet sector south of the shield generator's secret entrance.  However, after a lost scout stumbled into camp with a concussion given to him by a female Rebel the day before, Sergeant JC 225 put his squad on full alert.  Hearing chatter of a battle at the bunker on their comlinks, the sergeant took it upon himself to leave his patrol area to check it out.  During the team's approach to the shield generator's secret entrance, they overheard one of the AT-ST commanders call for reinforcements to "pursue the enemy" The dead stormtroopers and burning AT-ST they passed betrayed a far different situation.

When all visible enemies had been eliminated and a crisp "clear" was heard over his comlink from each of his team members, the sergeant quietly turned to his second in command.  Using hand signals, the sergeant ordered them to hold position and remain hidden.  Moving from his cover, JC 225 crawled up a small hill that separated him from the secret entrance.  Reaching the top, he noticed two sets of droid tracks.  Strange.  Moving next to a tree on the hill's crest, he looked down on the bunker.  A team of Rebels ran from the entrance.  Their leader, a scruffy looking bard wearing a black vest over a white shirt, yelled to the others to get back as he trailed after them. 

JC 225 tried to zero in for a shot, but the Rebel dove for cover too quickly.  Every fiber of his being pounded a message to his brain; Eliminate the enemy leader!  His training, his very breeding demanded it.  His mission was to protect the shield generator, and killing the enemy leader would be the greatest step he could make towards accomplishing that mission.  Trying not to expose himself too greatly, he stood from his hidden position and tried to reacquire the target.  Zooming his scope to its highest magnification, he strained to pick up a movement through the foliage that blocked his view. 

Get up. . .  Get up you Rebel scum

Just as he thought he detected a slight motion, the sergeant felt a vibration through his armor in the tree he was using for support and cover.  A moment latter, the entire moon seemed to shake.  Dropping to his knees, JC 225 could tell the secondary explosion had come from the direction of the shield generator.  A wall of flame rose above the treetops from the direction of the main complex. 

We've failed.  I've failed.  The Emperor is totally defenseless on the Death Star.

Clearing his mind, the sergeant again searched for the enemy leader.  Unable to see him, JC 225 fired blindly through the undergrowth hoping for a lucky shot.  A Rebel trooper saw him and returned fire.  The sergeant wheeled and squeezed the firing stud again, sending a green energy bolt through the soldier's upper chest.  Swinging his rifle back toward the Rebel leader's hiding place, he still couldn't make out any movement. 

Got to get out of here; must receive new orders.

The Rebel trooper's companions quickly returned fire, but the sergeant was already gone; crawling back to his waiting team. 

"Our mission is failed; the shield generator has been destroyed.  We've got to pull back to the main complex for new orders."  Nodding, the team obediently fell into formation while their sergeant wondered if they would ever leave this moon again.


(20 replies, posted in Serious Geeking)

In my dreams?  Custom Mando battle armor; painted to my specs

Realisticly?  Guess I'll settle for the Traviss Clone Wars books and maybe some more of the Star Wars figures that are coming out


(40 replies, posted in Serious Geeking)

virulent_messiah wrote:

I was saying that the "true Mando's" weren't JUST bounty hunters, and mercs OR JUST farmers and homesteaders, they incorporated BOTH aspects. Keep in mind places the Mandalorians made home, like Concord Dawn and Mandalore were rugged and uncivilized wilderness frontier. Think "Old West during the 'Homesteaders Act' ". They had to make good farmers and such, or they couldn't survive. Only a handful of Mandalorians were of Boba Fett's caliber, commanding enough of a pay rate with the resources to live on just their ship. And even he had arrangements to stay in other properties, with multiple real estate throughout the galaxy.

I know where you're coming from on this, and you might be right.  But I just can't see it that way until proven wrong.  At least not where the true Mando culture is concerned; the Mandalorian culture of Revan's time.  Now, most of those born Mando's now have fallen from that way of life; to a culture that you are describing.

This is my case.  Star Wars already has people like what you're saying. Mostly ordinary folks who are just trying to make a life for themselves, with some becoming extra-ordinary; but when threatened, they all become great warriors, they're called WOOKIEES!

I see the Mandalorians as something else.  I imagine them living a true Warrior path.  As far as their ability to get by when not at war, the planet Mandalore is a jungle world like Duxn; a place where you have to kill to survive.  People keep posting 'they're nomads, so they must be farmers.'  Some of the most famous nomad societies in history, the Mongols, most of the northern plains Indians and the Comanches of America, didn't do any farming at all!  They were hunters and raiders!  That's the way I see the Mandalorians.  Call me a warmonger if you like (I prefer the term Militaristic   big_smile ), but that's the way I like them, too

*EDIT*  Anyone else who sees the Mandalorians the way I do, check out virulent_messiah's thread in the General section "Would people be interested in starting Clans, like a Mando'a culture?"

I’m interested in starting a clan.  Any like-minded (or even just open-minded) Mando fans are welcome to join.  PM or E-mail me if you’re interested, and we can begin our Crusade toward greater Mando knowledge and understanding, work on FanFics and/or other projects, and kick butt in RPGs big_smile


(117 replies, posted in General)

I didn't really think too much about Boba until after I saw the movies.  He was a very interesting charachter I thought, but his limited role didn't really get my attention.

It was after playing KOTOR and leaning about the Mandalorians that I really took another look at Boba and realized how interesting he was (and how much more he could be; thus my upcoming FanFic)

What I love about him (and the Mandalorians) now is that he is the gray force in Star Wars.  So much of the SW universe is so centered on light Vs Dark; good Vs Evil.  I dont consider Boba either.  He has his own set of rules, and lets the rest of the galaxy be damned for whatever they think about it.