(15 replies, posted in General)

Fett would never wear less than full armor to the wedding. tongue


(177 replies, posted in Role Playing)

// Oh...they don't show edits as updates anymore...very interesting. ^ Look up for the new post. ^ Sorry! //


(177 replies, posted in Role Playing)

The two dark bounty hunters stalked down the shadowed and grime stained corridor with their firearms ready and the golden haired Jedi close behind them. Several times Heri had to step over the sprawled and mutilated corpses of various guards in the employ of the now dead Hutt.

Sathik turned his head to look over his shoulder, at Heri, “So, Jedi Master now, huh?”

Heri opened her mouth slightly to say something but Sathik explained with smile, “It’s okay, we don’t hate you for it.”

Before she had a chance to respond they reached the grim end of the corridor. Ahead lay the immense area that had held the court of the now very dead Hutt. Mangled bodies decorated the floor in a fashion even too elaborate for the two hunters to create on their own.

Arcuse made a twirling motion with his fingers to signal Sathik forward. The dark haired killer narrowed his eyes at his partner and moved into the hallway opening with a quick and insincere comment of “Thanks.” The dark killer quickly and efficiently scanned the area and turned to the others.

“Come on.” Sathik gave the ‘all clear’ wave and seemed to wander without purpose into the main audience chamber.

The expansive floor of the wide space was designed at the foot of the throne to lower downward, and let unsuspecting victims to slide unexpectedly in the black, reeking pit below. However, due to poor planning and a complete lack of foresight, when the floor had been lowered, the enraged beast underneath had clawed at it and wrenched the flooring off one of the reinforced durasteel hinges and created a ramp out of the blackness of the bone-littered pit.

Strangely, the creature was nowhere to be seen. Arcuse looked curiously down into the dark pit, wondering if the monster had simply retreated. Heri turned so fast the movement hardly seemed to happen, “There!”

A rancor is enough of a monster to paralyze weaker sentients in fear.

A female rancor defending her  nest of offspring…well that’s something else entirely.

The furious rancor let out a deafening roar and charged from the darkness of a huge corridor to the entrance of the palace, and lunged forward in thunderous steps. Sathik whirled around and fired an explosive round from his slug thrower into the enormous creature’s outstretched hand. Blood and rank flesh went flying and splattered across the tiled floor and the bounty hunter.

The female rancor lifted it’s head and mangled claws to out a shriek of immense pain, but before it got the chance Arcuse lifted his firearm and gave the beast a few more injuries to think about. Two successive shots from his blaster and suddenly the rancor’s eyes burst in tandem and rendered the creature sightless.

The following cry of excruciating pain shook the entire palace. The now blind and even more ferocious monster struck out at everything in a mess of uncontainable rage, and roared angrily at the top of its huge lungs.


(177 replies, posted in Role Playing)

Sathik smiled excitedly, and pointed sideways at Arcuse with his left hand, “He did it.”

The armored, faceless bounty hunter seemed to cringe without moving at all, “...Sathik.”

“Hey,” Sathik put up his black gloved hands and then casually folded them across his chest, “I wasn’t the one who tripped onto the door opener.”

Arcuse angrily took in a breath and explained through his barely audible,  rough and grating voice, “I was pushing you out of the line of fire.”

“Sure, yeah.” Sathik turned his head slightly toward the others and shook it with an absolutely wicked  smile, and gleaming lethal eyes. He tapped Arcuse on the side of his arm, “Tell-tell them the other good news.”

Arcuse turned his head and stared the fellow killer down, until Sathik nervously looked away and scratched the back of his head. The Ubese hunter then explained, “...It appears the creature is... nesting.”

“And what does that mean?” Mia asked, afraid of the answer.

Sathik unslung his shotgun cockily, and began putting in new shells. His voice took on a darkened tone of lethality, “It means Rancor Steak for everyone.”

He pumped a new shell into the chamber of his rifle, “Medium or well-done?”

Arcuse scanned the surroundings for the force-sensitive hunter through the tactical visor of his dark warrior’s helmet, “Where is Dash?”

// Wow. I managed to  miss out on some excellent RPGing. Hey all! tongue //


(177 replies, posted in Role Playing)

( Excellent. Looking forward to it. )


(177 replies, posted in Role Playing)



“Sathik! Wake up!”

Someone who sounded very far away was shouting at him.

“Sathik! Come on! You can sleep later.”

Sathik felt someone shaking him firmly by his shoulder harness. Everything came back to him in a sickening and dizzying rush of cold night air, and the smell of blood and metal. He felt so tired...

“Sathik! Up!”


The black haired humanoid cursed tiredly through clenched teeth and stood erect. He was leaning up against a filthy duracrete wall covered and stained in filth and colorful graffiti. They were outside in the streets in some dirty and shadowed alley. Sathik wasn’t entirely sure yet who exactly “they” were, but they hadn’t tried to kill him yet and he knew Arcuse was nearby so he felt more at ease.

“Where’s the party?” The plagued bounty hunter asked sleepily.

“Sssshh!” A girl Jedi at the edge of the alley peeking out hissed back sharply. She was afraid. It screamed in her eyes and tense defensive stance—Something is ALWAYS wrong when the Jedi are afraid.

“Here,” Dash whispered next to the dark eyed bounty hunter and held out a familiar looking shotgun, “This should make you feel better.”

Sathik smiled and took his favorite weapon affectionately. The professional killer spoke with mocking regret through his mask, “I didn’t get you anything.”

Mia was staring out of the dark alley. In the wide courtyard they could see Master Heri Taldon standing far off in the distance. The young Jedi’s heart had sang at the sight...until she had seen what Heri was looking at.

The dark aura was chilling...even from far over here.

Mia held her breath as the dark being simply started to walk away...as if none of them mattered.

“What are we waiting for?” Kar’bil asked nervously with his blaster held ready.  He didn’t like not being able to understand what was going on.

“Hold sai.” Arcuse spoke firmly through his lifeless, artificial sounding voice.

Sathik was systematically loading large rounds into the barrel of his shotgun, “So Dash...when’s the last time you talked to Heri?”

Dash stared at the floor with a nervous sigh.“It’s been a long time...”

“Okay, dibs.” Sathik stated casually, and looked back to his firearm.

“On what?” Dash asked suspiciously, an emotion flaring somewhere inside him.

“Hey, you got her last time.” Sathik shrugged, “It’s only fair.”

Dash blinked in something akin to shock, “...What?”

Sathik only grinned a familiar evil smile.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” Dash finally sighed, still not sure if Sathik was teasing or not.

“Aren’t you?” Sathik armed his shotgun with a loud and sudden heavy clicking noise.   

Blink was hiding quietly behind Dash trying not to look nervous. The rain had subsided temporarily, and the city had somehow become quiet though still strained with violent tension. It wasn’t safe here and they all knew it.

“He’s gone.” Mia announced with a loud exhale of relief.

“Let’s move.” Arcuse signaled to the rest in a sharp arm motion with his black gauntlet.

OOC: Sorry everyone! I’ve been up to my elbows in my medical class, babysitting, and talking to the Navy recruiter. Not to mention...it’s a lot harder for me without ScifiFreak90 to help. I could never write for Arcuse as well as he does.

I don't know if this thread is officially dead yet or not...and I was really looking forward to the Sathik / Arcuse vs HUN face off...Anyone still interested in playing?


(1 replies, posted in Creative)

This fanfic isn't solely dedicated to Fett (I lack the skill so far to write such a piece according to my own expectations) but there are a lot of good writers on this site and any constructive criticism would be extremely welcome. Who knows, maybe you'll have as mush fun reading it as my friends and I have had from writing it.

Summary: To everyone who thought it was over: It’s not. The prophecy must be fulfilled…
"This is where the fun begins. "
Prologue: Wait… What just happened?

Discalimer: We don't own Star Wars. Sure, maybe we wish we did, but as it is... we got nothin'.

A/N: Hey, all! This story is a collaboration put forth by he Insanity Awareness Bureau - JediSkye, KhaosFrost, and Mrs. Spock. We hope you enjoy reading it was much as we enjoy writing it!
Annnd... studies have shown a direct correlation between the amount of reviews and the frequency of updates...


The Son of the Suns

“…And in the time of greatest despair,
there shall come a savior,
and he shall be known as:
- Journal of the Whills 3:127

“You were the Chosen One! It was said you would destroy the Sith, not join them! Bring balance to the Force, not leave it in darkness!”
- Obi-Wan Kenobi to Anakin Skywalker

“Unlooked for, unhoped for,
the Sith’ari will come.
Through his power,
we are purged and gain strength.
Through his being,
the darkness will devour the light.”
- Naga Sadow, Dark Lord of the Sith



“Let me tell you,” Han Solo said wearily as he looked over at his companion sitting next to him. “Nothing’s been the same since an old fossil and a hotshot kid come up to me in a cantina in Mos Eisley.”

An almost empty glass of Corellian Ale clanked loudly down on the scarred tabletop as it was set down heavily. The remains of the amber drink sloshed violently in the bottom of the garishly colored glass.

“You should stay out of cantinas,” Lando Calrissian suggested half-jokingly in his smooth voice. “Drink less,” he elaborated.

“Or more,” Han pointed out with a half laugh. Lando smiled and shook his head before taking a long drink from his own half-full glass. Han sighed and sat back in his chair, glaring about the room as though he could incinerate it with a glance.

It had to be Nal Hutta.

The Lowrider Cantina was a small establishment not far from the docking bays in Bilbousa, Nal Hutta’s main city. It was a worn but popular cantina that specialized in drinks, gambling, and bar fights, as evidenced by the numerous scorch marks that had been only half scrubbed from the walls.

An uproarious cheer sounded from the other end of the room, where one of the many patrons had just won a generous sum of money. The other gamblers spread around the many tables at that end of the room glared at the winner and went back to their cards.

The long, bright, colorful screens at the opposite side of the room were clearly the newest items in the establishment, and they attracted a small crowd that bet zealously on their favorite racers and arena fighters.

The cheap wear of the patrons – spice addicts, grimy street gangsters – coupled with the neon lighting that seeped halfheartedly through the thick, hazy air caused the cantina to give off the dark, sleazy atmosphere so common among low-class cantinas.

Eight long, long days ago, Han Solo had punched a pre-calculated hyperspace jump in a panicked frenzy – a skill which the ex-smuggler had thought he had lost. A week in hyperspace riding on a damaged hyperdrive had not been pleasant, especially considering the company aboard the Millennium Falcon.

Although he was, as hard as it was to tell from appearances, lucky to be alive.

Staring at the distorted image of himself in the glass, Han slowly looked up and across the dulled metallic table and glared at the person sitting opposite him.

“What are you lookin’ at?” he snapped.

Boba Fett did not seem as though Han’s irritated outburst merited a reply. The armored bounty hunter simply continued to stare silently though the shadowed glare of the T-shaped visor across the face of his helmet.

The violent, thundering entry through the cantina doors across the room was like a herd of dewbacks suddenly jumping on stage and opening a song and dance number.

The loud music came to a sudden halt. Han was glad of that – he hadn’t realized until that moment that it had been giving him a pounding headache – and the cantina’s patrons stared with high-strung tension as a well-armed and disreputable looking band marched through the doors.

The leader was the notoriously cruel Trandoshan bounty hunter Bossk, his reptilian eyes and feral grin gleaming with the promise of vengeance. Four large, heavily-armored thugs lumbered after him, carrying arsenals of heavy blasters and ugly looking vibroblades. They shoved their way through the crowd, tossing aside gaming tables and causing several feminine shrieks, looking for someone.

“Friends of yours?” Han asked Fett.

The bounty hunter did not answer.

“Well, well, well,” Bossk growled viciously as he came up behind the other bounty hunter. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Fett looked the other way, completely devoid of interest.

The arrogant Trandoshan sat down in the empty seat next to the armored bounty hunter as his buddies fanned out around the table, blasters trained almost exclusively on Fett. A large, vile looking blue-skinned humanoid with red eyes even went so far as to lazily lift his rifle up to rest against Fett’s helmet. The patrons of the cantina looked on with alarmed interest.

“So glad you aren’t dead,” Bossk continued, wicked fangs gleaming as he grinned.

Han sat back uneasily, instinctively grabbing for the blaster at his side. Lando was more subtle, and leaning forward slightly, he asked conversationally, “Hey, Friend, is there something we can do for you boys?”

“Shut it!” Bossk’s show of mocking sincerity vanished, leaving behind only hate and malicious intent. He leaned in close to the other bounty hunter and hissed, voice dripping with venom: “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

Fett finally saw fit to reply. “Have you?” the cold, darkly artificial voice rasped as he angled his helmet mockingly.

Bossk exploded to his feet, the chair crashing behind him as he shouted “Listen up!” It was a rather unnecessary gesture, seeing as the confrontation already had the complete and full attention of the entire cantina. He waved his blaster over his head as he addressed his audience in an attempt to showcase his power and authority over the situation.

“I, Bossk,” the bloodthirsty Trandoshan glared at Fett before turning back to his audience. “Am going to kill Boba Fett, the greatest bounty hunter who ever died!” he announced, snickering at his own joke.

The darkened visor only stared, devoid of all emotion. Bossk snarled with absolute frustration, and raised his heavy repeater again, this time to fire.

He never got the shot off.

The cantina erupted in screams and shouts as a patron in a long brown robe who had been standing at the bar whirled around. A sudden snap-hiss rent the air and a sapphire blade of light swept downwards and completely severed the arm holding the blaster.

The Trandoshan threw himself on the floor with a pain-stricken roar, holding what was left of his right arm. Above him stepped a tall, authoritative man with a scarred face, whose expression told Bossk he had picked the wrong day to even consider walking into the cantina.

No one moved, and wide eyes watched the lightsaber fly, faster than the eye could trace, downward to halt abruptly mere centimeters from Bossk’s neck.

There was a sudden noise of rifles being armed, and Anakin Skywalker’s saber was suddenly a brilliant display of light as he deflected the incoming blaster fire with quick, practiced movements.

“No blasters!” yelled the hapless bartender, who had finally mustered the courage to give the customary warning. A stray shot that screamed right over his head quickly silenced him, and he ducked below the counter.

Boba Fett lunged out of his seat, wrenched away the disruptor rifle from the thug behind him with one gloved hand, and threw his heavy gauntlet against the blue-skinned humanoid’s unarmored stomach. The ugly Chiss stumbled backward with a grunt, and was promptly fired upon by his own rifle.

The shot strayed slightly from its intended mark and the alien fell to the ground in agony. Fett cringed in excruciating pain, his heavily bandaged right arm shaking uncontrollably. Angry at his weakness, the bounty hunter fired again and finished the job before abandoning the large rifle completely.

The rifle clattered to the ground as the last of Anakin’s deflected shots shattered one of the expensive screens across the room and screams rent the air. Then, suddenly, the cantina fell into complete, tense silence as all eyes stared at the two men.

It HAD to be Nal Hutta, Han thought grimly as he slowly pulled his blaster out of its holster. Any experienced bar hopper knew what was coming next.

“JEDI SCUM!” The shout came from a dark corner of the room and was followed by a red blast of laser fire that hurtled towards Anakin.

The shot ricocheted off Anakin’s blade, and in an amazing feat, shattered a glass of expensive liquor in the hand of an extremely large, hairy alien whose species was not immediately identifiable. With a roar of rage, the alien surged to his feet, knocking over his table and throwing nearby patrons to the side as he charged Anakin.

And with that, the standoff in the cantina suddenly became a massive free-for-all.

Tables were suddenly overturned, cards flying everywhere as people suddenly tackled their neighbors, and there was a shattering of glass as anything and everything suddenly became a perfectly legitimate weapon. Laser fire was suddenly thick in the air as a scattered amount of people with less courage than their peers made a beeline for the exit.

Lando shot defensively from his chair, shooting at one of Bossk’s lowlife friends as Han jumped up to cover his back, whirling to find several patrons at the other end of the room aiming at him and Lando. Han’s eyes widened and he raised his firearm uselessly against the mean looking gang members, but a haze of blue suddenly came between him and the laser fire.

Han blinked in abject shock as Anakin dashed back across the room without so much as a glance, leaving behind several debilitated gang members. A blaster bolt whined past Han’s head and reminded him why he had taken his blaster out. He turned and fired, but his eye was suddenly caught by the last of Bossk’s goons, who had taken cover behind a table and was taking careful aim. Han followed the thug’s line of sight and found Boba Fett at the end, fighting left-handed now with his dart launcher, unable to use heavier weaponry while his injured arm hung limply at his side.

Han grit his teeth and shot the sniper.

I can’t believe I just did that.

The chaotic scene only got worse as some girl on the second level, fed up with her date, suddenly turned on him and knocked him over the railing. There was a chorus of ragged yells, and several more people went hurtling over the railing or tumbling down the stairs.

Han turned and dodged beneath several wild shots, and suddenly found himself facing the hairy alien who had charged across the room. The huge creature had hefted a table over his head and was aiming at Anakin.

“Look –”

Before the warning had even left Han’s mouth, Anakin had whirled to face the alien, and as the makeshift projectile flew towards him, he simply lifted his hand and the table stopped, suspended in midair. The alien sputtered something unintelligible in rage, and the table suddenly boomeranged back to hit him square in the stomach.

The alien pushed it off with a roar, and charged angrily at Han. Suddenly wishing he hadn’t left Chewbacca to guard the ship, he took cover behind an overturned table and frantically fired again and again and again until the alien toppled over with a thud.

Lando suddenly ducked behind the table next to him, shooting at anyone who came too close. Anakin suddenly appeared by Han’s side as well, standing upright in the boiling chaos, saber only a humming blur of electric blue. “I talked to the bartender,” he announced over the roar of the crowd. “My credit account doesn’t work anymore.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t work?” Han asked incredulously as he took a few more shots across the room.

Anakin raised an eyebrow and stated clearly: “It doesn’t work.”

“Well,” offered Lando, “At least we don’t have to worry about paying for the drinks.” He surveyed the room with a wry grin as Han took aim and knocked the feet out from under some ugly little shrieking thing that had come charging at them.

Fett was suddenly at their side as well, saying to Anakin as he passed: “You should have killed him.”

Han rolled his eyes and watched Fett go stalking across the room in search of Bossk, who had escaped into the confusion but could still be heard yelling over the din.

Anakin and Han suddenly threw themselves to the ground, narrowly avoiding being landed on by a cursing Rodian who had been tossed over the railing directly above.

Anakin was back on his feet in a moment as the Rodian quickly righted himself and raised his blaster to fire. Anakin’s lightsaber cleanly slashed the gun in half, and the Rodian only stared for one shocked second before he ran screaming and cursing for his insignificant life.

Anakin whirled his saber back up into a practiced ready position and deflected a few more shots. He spoke absentmindedly to himself, shaking his head in absolute disbelief. “How did I get here?”

“I don’t know, Your Lordship,” Han answered sarcastically from his position on the floor as he fired at a Bothan coming up behind Lando. “You tell me.”


(177 replies, posted in Role Playing)

The rain was pouring down now. The darkened street was crowded and dirty, only lit by the  flourescent glowing signs along the way. The Masked One kept to the shadows alongside the edge of the street, hurrying in the direction of the cantina.  The scarlet cloaked warrior had Sathik’s right arm over his shoulder as he half-supported and half-carried the weakened killer.

“Gods that was fun until you showed up,”Sathik stumbled along, almost laughing as though he hadn’t nearly gotten himself killed. He stopped suddenly and tried to turn, “Wait, my weapons, I...”

“I got them.”

“You are amazing. Almost as amazing as I am,” Sathik kept talking to keep himself from passing out, “you see how fast I,” he coughed, “killed those freaks? Yeah, it was overkill, but hey, you know how it is, kill kill kill, bang blast slash, fun fun fun.”

“What?” The Masked One turned to face him sharply. Not sure of what he had just heard Sathik say.           

Sathik looked at him like he was crazy, “I... didn’t say anything.”

The scarlet cloaked hunter shook his head and continued down the street. Sathik coughed loudly under his breath, “CoughSchizoCough.” Before the scarlet cloaked warrior could respond, the black-clad hunter stumbled over nothing and almost pulled The Masked One down with him. The weakened hunter held his gloved hand to the wall—leaving a hand print of blood that had no living owner—and straightened himself, taking a few quick breaths before he moved on.

“Oh hey, sorry I hit you,” Sathik was light-headed, and earlier he had reflexively attacked the Masked One as he had tried to carry the other hunter out of the Exchange.

“It’s okay, I hit you back.”

“Oh, yeah.” Sathik laughed slightly, before he suddenly broke into a fit of haggard coughs.

The cantina was a mess of a wide variety of corpses of flesh and metal, overturned tables, broken glass, blood, and violent havoc. And Arcuse was entirely in his element.

He boosted the power level on his blaster and fired at the oncoming assassin droid. The droid’s hold-out blaster shattered in a burst of red light, along with sensor after sensor, until the droid fell in a cluttered and sliding heap at his feet and lay there twitching. He continued to fire at the skilled technological onslaught, carefully avoiding Mia in her flowing movements across the cantina as she carved through the attackers with her lightsaber.

Kar’bil was on his knees loading his blaster from where he had taken cover. In front of him, Mia slashed a droid’s arm off, swung the blade up and around and brought it through the attacker’s armored chest-plate.
Another droid charged forward, the bounty hunter lifted his powerful blaster and permanently deactivated the assassin droid in an intense succession of shots. He spun the blaster and stuck it back into his holster, turning sharply to take hold of a metal chair and smash it into another droid, knocking it with a loud crash into the floor. Arcuse smashed the chair down onto the metal casing of the “skull” and crushed it hard into the duracrete.

Without stopping, Arcuse hefted his new-found weapon with one hand and forcefully threw it, catching a droid in the legs and causing it to unceremoniously hit the floor, knocking over the droid behind it . Kar’bil fired quickly at the one nearest him, and Mia slashed elegantly through the other. As the cantina fell into a strange and tense quiet, Arcuse stepped over the bodies strewn across the floor toward the entrance to see if any more mechanical threats lay without.    
“Sathik!” He strained his vocal cords as he watched the Masked One carry in his partner.

“Hey, Arc, look I made a friend,” Sathik smiled faintly as he tried to stand, before he blacked out and fell into the armored hunter’s arms, “She’s a really nice lady...”


(177 replies, posted in Role Playing)

Out of shells. No time to load. He cracked the back of his shotgun against a face and the jaw dislocated in a sickening crack. In a swift movement he sheathed the spread gun on his shoulder, flicking out a wicked blade with his other black-gloved hand. He pulled a human by the neck and shoulder viciously down on a blade, ripped the knife up and out, and tossed the bleeding and coughing and hacking corpse away.

He ducked down as a vibro-ax slashed at his black and now sticky hair, if it had nicked his skull he didn’t notice. The dark masked killer slashed behind him up and under the large reptilian Feeorin’s sternum, shattering the surrounding bones. His other hand found the knife holstered at his thigh and slashed across the shocked alien’s throat, severing the vital arteries in a bloody splash. His body was on fire and mind far beyond control.

Sathik was loud and always had something to say in any situation…except for when he was killing. Even shadows weren’t as silent as he was then. It was something few noticed, and those that did…usually ended up dead anyway.

The crowd was shrinking fast, and the intensity somehow managed to only increase as only the skilled remained.

Sathik twisted to avoid a slashing vibroblade, his body was screaming from the self-inflicted agony of exertion, his shaking hand weakly dropped his heavy knife, and he stumbled to his hands and knees as the previous vibroblade’s twin swung at where his chest had been. He drew the Sorosuub S-5 from under his arm, as he rolled onto his back and fired at the Twi’lek’s face three times before the fresh corpse sunk to the duracrete, blades clattering.

Avoiding enemy fire, the plagued hunter fired three shots at the bezerking blood-drenched Huk before the being’s mace collided into his stomach. All air was instantly gone, and Sathik found himself stunned on the ground, belly up, and a mace rushing down to say hello to his skull. He rolled out of instinct alone. Fragments of the ground sliced into where his face was uncovered.

In a burst of desperate strength Sathik kicked at the mace and knocked it from the Huk’s scaled hands. He ripped off his mask to gasp heavily for the air he couldn’t get. The void-eyed killer grabbed at the sharp shards on the ground from a broken sword. His gloved hand brought the flat of the dark metal the size of a razor blade quickly across his tongue. The Huk had returned with his mace and Sathik was just able to avoid the bone-shattering blow, and the plagued killer stood and plunged the contaminated metal fragment into the back of the Huk’s neck.

It didn’t matter that the sharp fragment hardly even caused the Huk any pain—The creature was long dead. The Huk spun it's heavy mace around and smashed at the other fighters that had gotten too close in the chaos. The creature stumbled and coughed suddenly.

It’s eyes went wide to late, a foamy cough erupted from the Huk's lips. It would have screamed if it wasn’t killing it so fast. It would have screamed if the absolute agony hadn’t forced all it's conscious bodily functions to a shrieking halt. It didn’t matter that the Huk was filled with enemy blaster fire as he fell to the ground, twitching. The scaled hunter was already dead.

The hatch cracked and creaked as the seal was wrenched apart, and pushed open. The Masked One stealthily looked over the armored metal edge, and Blink forced her way up next to him to see.

"Oh looke, droids." She whispered and pointed at the minimal security left to guard the power generator, "I hate droids. Can you..."

The Masked and mysterious hunter had already silently lifted himself out, and a dark grin came across his covered face, "Not a problem."


(177 replies, posted in Role Playing)

Arcuse instantly fired his blaster at the assassin droid and caught the new threat in a  photoreceptor. The droid spun was away from the force of the shot, one optical sensor now a mess of sparks and seared technology.

Everything was happening so fast.       

“Move!” Arcuse shoved Sathik by the shoulder into the direction of the platform, straining his vocal cords to shout. The black-haired humanoid was off in a mad sprint to catch up to the surging crowd. No time for strategy or thought. Blood stained instincts for survival had taken control now. Hopefully that would be enough.

It had started raining.

Sathik shoved his way to the center of the crowd, body tense, and shotgun at the ready, waiting, and watching. His blood now seared with heat inside from anticipation. It was about time the action had started. The best part about the hunt was always the kill. Nothing else came close...except for maybe getting paid for the kill. It was all that Sathik knew and loved.

Sathik didn’t like having to go in without Arcuse, that was asking for seven kinds of trouble once things started getting bloody and desperate. The masked hunter shook his head and focused on the task at hand.
Arcuse ran toward Kar’bil and the she-jedi near him. Mia finally had her lightsaber in a buzzing flash of light and was ready to meet the outstretched blades of the droid.

“Come on,” Blink suddenly climbed over a broken railing to the side along the sewer way, and led the scarlet cloaked hunter to a blocked off ladder obscured by the pitch-black darkness.

The masked warrior broke off the rusted barrier in front of the ladder.

“Almost there,” she assured, “Above us is the Exchange, and the exit hatch opens up to the maintenance and main power generator on the lowest level."


(177 replies, posted in Role Playing)

“She’s dead.”

Her voice was clear and pretty like an ice-covered corpse preserved for white eternity.

The Masked One turned quickly and faced her defensively. Already his DL-44 was held high at the being before him as he waited for her to explain herself.

“The Jedi you were thinking about,” The fragile pale girl looked on innocently and explained, adding with cold finality, “She is dead.”

The Masked One looked away at the blood staining his cloak, “I know.”

He had known she was dying, and it had only been a hope that she might live.

“You killed her,” She said as one would call the sky blue, and shook her head mournfully with her eyes still on him, “If...only you had not started that fight.”

The black haired, and scarlet cloaked humanoid was flooded with a flaring hatred and fired. As instantly as she had appeared, her form fluidly changed instantly into that of the girl jedi with short brown hair. The shot caught her solidly in the heart and forced her back a step, blood poured from her mouth dramatically in a crimson cough, and she fell painfully slowly onto the duracrete in a slow wet sounding heap.

The Masked One blinked, suddenly making the realization that he had not fired at all, and she still stood there laughing lightly as it slowly started to rain over the city. He let loose a foul curse, and shook off her influence violently from his mind.
She quietly stood there in a simple white knee-length dress, her full lips pursed thoughtfully, unsure of what to say now to the lethal figure.

“Listen,” She asked with an air of innocent helplessness in her porous eyes, “I have this terrible fear of violence...and a...jedi... mind if I follow you?”

“Yes.” He asserted angrily, and began to make his way off, leaving her behind.

“Oh, I can help! I won’t do anything you wouldn’t want me to, and I’ll only follow behind you.” She cried after him, “Hello?”

He stopped and sighed as careful logic calculated itself through his mind, and he remembered that he’d lost track of the three he was tailing.  The Masked One turned, “Do you know the way Arcuse and Sathik have taken to the Nal Hutta Exchange?”

She smiled.

“I know the way. They have attempted to hide their presence by taking the lower level sewer way under the city streets,” Her strides were fast and smooth like liquid as she caught up next to him, she held fleetingly to his arm to emphasize her presence and pointed, “Look, the entry hatch is not far.”
The Masked One wasn’t sure how he knew her name.


Her name was Blink Myno.


(177 replies, posted in Role Playing)

Sathik leaned against the inside of the entry to the cockpit, and crossed his arms, watching Arcuse at the controls of the Morbis Fere. Sathik exhaled, took down the cloth mask from his face to hang loosely around his neck and absentmindedly chewed off the loose fibers on the edge of his worn, armored black glove. The orphaned killer in front of Sathik adjusted controls with practiced fluidity.  The ship had become an extension of himself, and another powerful weapon in the hunters’ familiar arsenal.
“How’s our guest?” Arcuse asked without looking behind him, as he finished up the routine logistic and maintenance checks of the complex and severely lethal ship.

Sathik just laughed, a slow, horribly sadistic laugh.

“He didn’t know who I was. I had half a mind to be offended.” The black-haired killer finally elaborated as he absentmindedly scratched the faint scar under his left eye. The scar was a dim reminder from a long and bloody battle in a battledome where his own knife had been dragged along the side of his face. Sathik pulled the dark faded black of his mask up under his darker eyes, “So, what’s the plan? Do you want me to put his highness in the holding cell now or later?”

“Not yet,”Arcuse assured.

It wasn’t far too long until the Morbis Fere arrived on Nal Hutta.

The motion activated lights in the hangar bay added little illumination as they activated in the wake of the three hunters as the disembarked from the deadly Skipray.

Sathik was armed heavily with his shotgun balanced over his shoulder, and was talking animatedly to the hooded Twi’lek next to him, “Yeah, and it would have been funny as hell for the five seconds I was alive.”

Kar’bil couldn’t help but laugh. The Twi’lek was outfitted in a black hooded cloak to hide his face. It seemed only moments ago Sathik was telling him to hold still as he drew artificial tattoos on his face and head, and threatening to draw humiliating obscenities if he didn’t. stay. still. It was important that no one on Nal Hutta would be able to identify the noble blooded Twi’lek. One captured clan heir was bad enough.

Arcuse walked ahead of the two toward the ominous hangar door ahead. Also armed and on edge, it was clear that the hunt had begun.

The azure-skinned Twi’lek was beginning to feel more “at ease” around the professional killers. The trip through hyperspace had been nerve wracking as he found himself entirely at the mercy of two very unmerciful beings. It was a learning experience he would not forget.

“What was that?!” Kar’bil demanded in outrage, holding his bleeding nose as he picked himself up off the metal grating of the ship.

“A surprise attack.” Sathik said clearly.

“And how fair is that!” Kar’bil asked seething with anger at the injustice.

“I don’t know,” Sathik shrugged and cracked his knuckles, “Ask the other guy that when you’re dead.”

Kar’bil stared thoughtfully as the lesson sank in. He was about to enter a world ruled by no rules. A world where the first one to pull the trigger was the one who lived. A world Sathik and Arcuse had learned by heart, and if he was smart–and lucky–he would live. Kar’bil had lived his life in a world ruled by law, order, and etiquette, but he learned the ways of this new world quickly.   
“There are other ways to teach someone to fight dirty,” Kar’bil couldn’t help but point out, wiping his face with his arm, and standing a little straighter.

“I’m not much of a teacher,” Sathik shook his head with a slight laugh, still wearing a sadistic grin—which very quickly disappeared as Kar’bil suddenly launched out a strike of his own and caught the dark-haired humanoid in the side of the head. Sathik cried out in pain, doubled over in absolute agony from the blow, and sucked in air between his clenched teeth.

“Are you alright?” Kar’bil panicked, thinking he had hit the bounty hunter too hard, and stepped forward to help him. Kar’bil flew back with a loud crack as Sathik sucker punched him in the jaw, and broke into laughter as he sat stunned on the ground.               

And things with Arcuse had been...different.

Kar’bil watched in awe and horror as Arcuse systematically took apart and put back together his favored E-11 so quickly it was hard to follow the movement of his arms and hands, while he was  looking off to the side, completing the process by feel alone.

“What does he do? Sleep with that thing?”  Kar’bil leaned over to Sathik in a frightened whisper.

“He would if he slept.” Sathik stated.

Kar’bil stepped into the filthy Nal Hutta street behind the two bounty hunters. Across the way was a flashy dive called “Kubba’s Palace”. He wasn’t exactly sure why they were here and he had become increasingly more and more anxious once they had reached planetside.
The three hunters entered the loud cantina that was hazy from assorted smells from the fumes of alcohol, spice, and sweat. At first it had been impossible to notice the bleached and transparent wraith of a human girl sitting alone at a metal blaster scarred table, and yet it was somehow impossible that she could have been missed among the crowd of dirty patrons.    

“Whatever you do, don’t look at her eyes.” Sathik warned Kar’bil in a low voice.

“Hello.” She said in a quiet voice that pierced the very soul. Long pale blonde hair framed a pale face with fair features. Under her almost white eyes were two dark blue spots like paint on a doll’s face.        

“Lady-sai,” Arcuse bowed politely. Sathik crossed his arms and didn’t look at her, watching the potentially dangerous crowd around them, and Kar’bil followed his example.

“I know what you want. Every bounty hunter in here has been thinking all about it.” She said softly. Kar’bil angled his head just to see what she looked like, it was hard to focus his eyes to look at her, he blinked, and suddenly the more he looked at her the more she looked like...

“Tresh’san!” He cried out and stepped forward in shock. How could he not have recognized his betrothan?!

“Sathik!” Arcuse barked out, and his partner quickly and violently grabbed Kar’bil and walked away with him to the other end of cantina. Kar’bil glanced behind him only to see it was not the familiar Twi’lek girl he knew, it was someone else. A strange and yet familiar laughter rang inside his skull.

“What was that?” The azure clan heir asked, not sure whether to be confused, angry, or both.

Sathik ordered two exceptionally potent drinks from the bartender, leaned back to check on Arcuse through the crowd and turned to Kar’bil, “She’s a force sensitive,” he almost spat the word. There were very few of those that Sathik liked, “She can’t levitate or fight to save her life, but she likes to screw with your head.”

“She...looked so much like her...” Kar’bil held the crimson drink in his hand, but didn’t drink it, stil thinking of the one he had left his home world to save.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What does she make you see?” Kar’bil asked curiously and looked up at the hunter.

Sathik gave the Twi’lek a look as though it were painfully obvious, “Your mother.”

The safety switch on Arcuse’s firearm clicked loudly as it was switched off. The lovely force sensitive horror laughed nervously at the sound, and the experienced hunter felt a wave of relief as she ended her subtle assault on his mind. If she wasn’t the perfect informant, he would have killed her long ago. Her powerful mind prevented anyone from seeing or hearing what they were saying, and she could take by force of will any knowledge or memory in those around her.

“The Hutt’s are having their annual party soon. It is very important to the balance of power and the inner workings of the Hutt clan.” She looked Arcuse in the eyes as though his dark visor was completely transparent, “This particular party will be very special, and additional security will be hired later tonight for the occasion.”

They know there will be bounty hunters. Echoed within Arcuse’s mind where no one else would hear it.

“The try-outs will be held in a lower level Nal Hutta Exchange outside of the Gherilijic palace in a few hours. It is a private VIP party for the major Hutt players with a taste for violence before the official festivities and business to begin.”

Lose. The fight.

“It shouldn’t be too hard for someone of your skill to be hired.”

They will not hire someone they can’t handle, and they will make up for the lack of skill in numbers.

“Once you are hired, who knows? Maybe you will get a glimpse of the entertainment.” The pale blonde smiled emptily. Arcuse nodded, stood graciously with a respectful bow and turned to leave. For a moment too long his body paused and was held against his will.

“And what about my payment?” She insisted like a spice user needing a fix, and her voice dragged seductively  “You always  have the loveliest  nightmares.”

You won’t even know I’m inside your head.

“Help yourself,” The orphaned hunter sat across from her like an archaic gunslinger in a duel on a dusty street, and challenged darkly in his rasping voice, “if you can.” The cantina suddenly faded into silent nothingness and was empty for an eternity.

“Damn you.” she half hissed and released her hold of him, pouting like a child denied a particularly precious plaything.

There was another Star Wars game that had high level Darktroopers (Imperial Droids) listed  with Dark Side Force points, when that's impossible...as far as I know for a droid to even be force sensitive. It's possible that the non force characters are just given those boosts to be more of a challenge in the games.

As far as natural talent and the force go, "I think you underestimate us non-force types."

I don't think it's fair that to be capable of amazing things you have to have the force or magical powers, that's what makes Boba and Jango's accomplishments against Jedi and Sith alike so impressive.

In real life, people will fight better or perform better when they're angry or calmed and at peace, and as far as I know, not many people in real life are force sensitive.  tongue


(18 replies, posted in General)

Don't forget the bloodstains and burn marks that would be all over it.


(61 replies, posted in Role Playing)

Mari gave a cold harsh laugh edged with insanity, but suddenly choked and coughed. As to not break the silence, the combat medic's dialated dark eyes narrowed and she looked over and guestured at Grov Vontross's red armor, casting a questioning look back at the Trandoshan.


(61 replies, posted in Role Playing)

Name: "Bloody" Mari Caedes
Height: 5'9"
Armor: Orange...mostly
Race: Human; Mandalorian Denomination
Sex: Female
Primary Weapon: Vibro-ax
Secondary Weapon: DT-57 "Annihilator" heavy blaster pistol
Special Ability: Mari is a skilled Medic and is heavily equipped with various medical kits, surgical tools, and a wide variety of poisons.

Mari Caedes is all the last of an ancient Mandalorian warrior clan. The Caedes were extremists of the Mandalorian ideals. Since the time of Mandalore the Ultimate, these warriors were fiercely loyal to the Sith and notorious for their cruelty in combat. As the Caedes were resentful of even Mandalorians outside the bloodline, the small clan began a tradition of having medics in battle more appropriately called "Corpsemen." The clan slowly died off, and the last family of pure blood was executed by the Jedi for crimes against sentience. Mari was only six and more than guilty of her share of crimes. She escaped with her eldest brother at the cost of her right arm which was severed up to her shoulder. Her brother took care of her and completed her training as a corpseman. A prodigy of the craft, Mari is highly valued for her medical knowledge and skill.

Mari Caedes entered in quietly, a smoking death stick in her left hand close to her mouth. Her helmet was held casually in her visible cybernetic arm. Her orange armor was faded and worn and her gauntlets were permanently darkened by bloodstains. Caedes was pale with freckles. Her thick dark hair was messily weaved pinned back complexly with needles. A medical bag was slung over her shoulder and hung behind her waist, a vibro-ax was holstered at her shoulder, and a heavy blaster pistol was strapped to her thigh.

She coughed, took another drag from the death stick, and calmly stated, “I’m late.”


(65 replies, posted in Creative)

Jungle Clone Trooper wrote:

What about mine?

Oh it was cool, of course, I just like how Fetter managed to make his look like a scene right out of a comic book.


(27 replies, posted in Creative)

Oh cool, I've been meaning to look those books too.  Thanks Miba!


(71 replies, posted in Film and Television)

I actually read a pretty cool comic where Darth Maul was alive, although with wicked cybernetic legs, and he attacked Obi-wan while he was protecting Luke on Tatooine.

I liked seeing Yoda fight, and Vader fighting Luke in ESB was an absolute timeless battle, but I loved the fight between Anakin and Obi-wan in ROtS probably because they had much better choreography and technology while they filmed it.


(27 replies, posted in Creative)

Fetterthanyou wrote:

Jodo comes after boba and in the middle of the greatest fight ever, vader walks in thinking, "This isn't where i parked my car..."

That is absolutely hilarious! I love it!

Just be careful Sora that your fic doesn't turn into a sappy romance story. Romance is okay, but be sure to make any relationships are believable and creative. I don't know about the Fett drinking problem, most of the books say he doesn't drink.

What would be interesting was if started having a problem with maybe...nightmares of his past such as his father's death or innocent's he's killed, or something along those lines, and that the whole time he was in a session he was all angry he was there in the first place, and looked like he was going to bolt out of the room or shoot something at any second.

That could be very interesting. It would also be cool to see what a star wars therapist was like.


(46 replies, posted in Fans)

I can't stand Jar-Jar, but I feel really bad for the French. If you watch the star wars movies in different languages, Jar Jar is endurable in spanish, but in french...*shudder*

I'll admit that Mace Windu is...okay. I used to really hate him because he killed Jango so easily and I was absolutely sure he's evil, but come on, It's Samuel Jackson. My friends still make fun of him though, "Poor Mace Windu, he got thrown out the Windu-I mean Window."

Bib Fortuna, (the albino twi'lek in Jabba's palace) I don't particularly care for either.


(65 replies, posted in Creative)

Fetterthanyou wrote:

alright, spliced a few images together to create what i believe to be a good job =P
http://i77.photobucket.com/albums/j49/l … oscopy.jpg

Very nice, good choice in the pictures. It looks really good. I like how it's very simple but still awesome all the same.


(177 replies, posted in Role Playing)

The galaxy is vast, and much of it is very, very dark.

Arcuse and Sathik were bounty hunters, yet above that, they were friends, and they had marched and clawed through ways murky black, blood-ridden, hazed of muck and filth, stained with sin, and they had fought and killed and survived.

And they planned to continue doing just that.

On hearing Kar'bil's proposal, the two headstrong and lethal hunters cast each other a glance, and then looked back to the armed, determined albeit unsure, azure twi'lek with careful scrutiny.

It wasn't unusual for Arcuse and Sathik to work with others, and a pair of free extra gun hands with a head on his shoulders wasn't entirely unwelcome, still, they both knew the benefits and risks the young twi'lek heir offered.

"We don't make it a habit to work with amateurs." Sathik said bluntly, the last word ran like venom from his mouth.

"This job will be dangerous, and anyone could die," Arcuse warned coldly in his low, grating voice, "Do you think you can handle it?"

"I can hold my own," Kar'bil replied, "and what I don't know I will learn, and with you---"

"Do you think you can handle us?" Sathik gave a questioning look with a malicious glint in his abyssal black eyes.

"...I..." Kar'bil straightened.

Without waiting for him to finish, Sathik crossed his arms with a shrug of "why not?" and looked away.

Sathik alerted his partner casually, "If he gets annoying, I'm going to shoot him."

"You can't kill him, Sathik, he's the Allo'et clan heir," Arcuse rasped without emotion.

"I didn't say I was going to kill him." Sathik explained as the two hunters began to walk out of the now near empty main hall.

The dark haired killer turned to look behind him at Kar'bil, "Hey, Blue, you coming?"


(200 replies, posted in Fans)

Atinvod, I read the manga at narutochuushin


(200 replies, posted in Fans)

Has anyone here seen this yet?