Action, Adventure, Excitement, Part 9: Star Wars / Space Opera Chapter 6 Subject: AAE9s: Arcadian Interlude On Mon, 04 Jul 2005 01:37:35 -0700 Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00012597 "Can't catch me!" Rachel giggled, a red blur racing through the air. *We'll see about that!* Liam rumbled playfully, loping from branch to branch like silver-gray lightning. "Come back here!" Psyche blurted. The faerie princess, now appearing to be in her mid-teens by human standards, puts her fists on her hips and exhaled, shaking her head. "Honestly. I was _never_ this bad." Putting her hands to her mouth, she shouted, "You're going too far! That's the edge of our demense!" There was a wet 'pop' somewhere below Psyche. She gasped. Rachel and Liam both stopped cold. *Daddy?* they send in unison. Somehow, the ravaged Freelance Immortal managed to send reassuring hugs. *Yes, sweetlings. I need to talk to Psyche. You two fly home to Gramma Caitlin.* *But...* they sent as one. *_Go._* They went. Psyche was already at Roland's side. "I can see why you didn't want them to see you, Uncle Roland. You're a mess." "It's good to see you too, Psyche," Roland quipped ironically. "You've grown." Psyche grinned weakly. "Faerie Standard Time." The smile vanished. "Uncle Roland..." "I'll be all right for the moment," Roland insisted firmly. Psyche stopped and waited. The Eternal managed a smile. "Thank you. I'd like to see your parents now." Psyche nodded soberly. "I guessed as much." * * * "...and so, Your Majesties, I need your help," Roland explained. "Indeed," Oberon agreed. "Yet there are many among your forces who would gladly handle this matter for you. Why come to us?" "My reasons are twofold, King Oberon," Roland replied. "One, I hope to gain the element of surprise this way. Thratchen has been watching us for some time now. If I went with the Starspawn or NEMO, he would certainly suspect I was 'up to something.' Because of Arcadia's nature, he's less likely to even know where I went, let alone what I'm doing. With luck, he'll assume I retreated to heal, which is true enough as far as it goes." "And the second reason?" Titania asked gently. "...I..." Roland looked away. "...I don't know if I should lack a weakness entirely. I'm so powerful as it is..." his expression firmed. "I'll do what I have to. Morgan's too important. Still...faerie gifts are legendary for their loopholes. That brings me comfort in this case." Oberon leaned back, considering deeply, while Titania regarded the Champion with sympathy. "If we cannot help you, do you have any other options?" she asked. Roland paled slightly. "One. If I must...I will do what I have to." "Even to us, that sounds ominous," Oberon said. "What is this option?" The cosmic hero sighed, head bowed and eyes closed. "My...condition...developed as a result of my being purged of the Taint I was born with, as a result of the Proprietor War. It stands to reason that...taking on that Taint again would cure the condition. Like a vaccine." Titania's eyes tighten. Even mighty Oberon stares a touch. "You...would do such a thing?" Oberon asked. "Without hesitation, if it comes to that." Roland swallowed. "Not that I'm looking forward to it..." Titania held up a hand. Roland fell silent. "We can indeed help you, Roland Phoenix, but as you said, there would be a 'loophole.' You would develop a weakness to certain faerie magicks similar to the one you have against the corrupt." Roland nodded. "If that is what it takes." "Yet, what if Thratchen discovers your weakness?" Titania continued. Roland's lips flattened. "It would mean sacrifice, but far less of one than you intended, I think, were you to take on a small portion of the energies purged from you." Oberon looked over to his queen. "Yes...I see...you mean to bind the two up in an interlocking enchantment." Roland swallowed. "I'm not sure I understand." "You would have some weakness to faerie magic, though it would not be absolute. Likewise, certain elements will affect you erratically." Titania smiled in gently amusement. "For you, _all_ Kryptonite will be Red Kryptonite, in a sense." Roland smiled back wryly. "Joy." "Yet no one weakness will be particularly reliable against you," Oberon finished. "This seems the best solution for what you seek." Roland sighed and nodded. "Very well. I will call the Island, and then we can begin at your convenience." "Though we can manipulate time on your behalf to some extent, alacrity is advised." Oberon stands. "Come to our tower when you have the...substance." * * * Titania frowned at the canister floating before them. "This is the Taint?" "A small sample," Roland agreed. "And Quantum gave me an earful about this, let me tell you." The trio examined the canister within a ritual room worthy of the King and Queen of Arcadia. Gleaming mithril-silver script glowed atop panels and tables of rainbow marble. Strange devices of all (elegant) descriptions floated obediently in place, constructed of mithril, orichalcum, and some fantastic wood that equals them both. The foulness within the canister seemed all the more out of place for it. "Lie down," Oberon said gently, gesturing to the largest of the marble platforms. Roland complied obediently, only shaking for a moment as the canister floated above him. With single, quick gestures, each mirroring the other, the monarchs opened the canister. Floating in place was a single drop, shimmering purple and green, but the colors were _wrong,_ the purples of ugly bruises and the greens of the foulest toxins shifting and flowing within that single fluid orb. Roland tensed. Twin multicolored blasts, both sparkling and flowing, crash into the space around the drop. Mutually opposing forces clashed, almost as if two great geniuses fought to force matter and antimatter to touch and accept co-existence, and for a moment the foul 'substance' quivered as if about to explode. Instead, the bursts of power faded, and the drop that remained was alternately shimmering, reflective silver and dull, sickly gray. It fell. Almost exactly like a drop. To Roland's credit, he did not scream. Still, his entire body shuddered when the altered Taint struck him. It sank into his body as if he were a sponge, and the Eternal groaned miserably. "Are you all right?" Titania asked, mopping his forehead. "...i will be," Roland replied weakly. "it's not as bad as it was, not by half. i can tell that even in spite of as long as it's been. still, by the Source, i'd forgotten how nauseating it was..." he sat up, wavering briefly, then stood. "There. I just...needed a moment to adjust. I'll be fine. Though I could use some private facilities before I go." The monarchs looked at him sternly. "You will be fullly healed first." Roland nodded. * * * "DADDY!" Twin rockets hammered the Champion, hugging him ferociously from both sides. "We were so worried--" "--an' we couln' feel Mom--" "--an' she's still awful quiet--" "--an' you felt kinda sick--" "Whoa, whoa, whoa," Roland laughed. "That'll do, the both of you." Hugging them both back, he settled them both down, sitting with one on each knee. "Now, I don't want you two worrying. Mom's been caught by a bad guy--" both children 'eeped' in distress. "--but he's challenging me to single combat, and you both know how _that_ goes." He winked. Rachel giggled. "Bad guys are _stupid._" Liam shook his head and smiled wryly. "I think it's that big word Unca Dante uses...hublips...hubcaps..." "_Hubris,_" Roland corrected him. "Yes, it's usually something like that. Now you go on with Psyche and Gramma, and you mind them, okay?" "Okay, Daddy," the twins replied obediently. "^I love you,^" he told them, making sure they could feel it. When they were through getting hugs, he handed them over to Psyche, who quickly bundled them off to the house. Caitlin was still there. "It's nae that simple, is it, Roland?" Roland sighed and shook his head. "No. No, it's not. If it were, I probably wouldn't be here. This isn't Foxbat. Thratchen is _not_ stupid, though he's taking certain risks based on the rules he's used to. I'm not underestimating him. I don't _dare,_ not with Morgan at stake." Caitlin considered this, then nodded, more to herself than Roland. "Ye have a plan, then?" For the first time since his arrival, Roland didn't have to force the smile that formed. It was not, however, an altogether pleasant smile. "Oh yes. Ohhh yes. Thratchen is going to be very, very sorry he ever tried to hurt me through my wife..." -- (/) Roland Two words: Byron. Gaunt. =========================== Subject: Re: AAE9s: Revenge of the Sith On Mon, 04 Jul 2005 09:41:17 -0700 Patrick O'Shea Said As CAoL Message # 00012598 >On Thu, 23 Jun 2005 21:24:33 -0700 >Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00012592 > >>>"DEMON FANG!" >>> >>>A bolt of Force energy tears a deep furrow just in front of Vader, >>>bisecting the two grooves Vader had just dug. > > OOC: God, I miss that game (rented it, loved it, _just_ got to >Tethe'alla when we had to return it). OOC: Ouch. The story only gets started when you get there. There's still Presea to meet :-) Not that I'm biased or anything... >> Anakin winces. >> Vader attacks, and his younger counterpart parries. "Curious," >>Vader responds, 'looking' towards Lloyd, "as you called one 'Master' >>mere moments ago." Lloyd stews for a second, muttering something about 'Jedi snappy comeback techniques.' Good with his weapons. Noble heart. Just not the brightest bulb in the room. >> "Barriss, what are you _doing_ here?! Last I heard, you were on >>Ansion trying to stop Dooku from subverting it!" A quartet of >>techno-demons flies at them, and Anakin slices through one of them >>with practiced ease. The other has respectable skill in 'Force >>curses' -- aka demonic magic -- keeping him occupied for a few >>moments. (OOC: If the two attacking Offee appear to be giving her a >>hard time, Ani will pick up the pace.) "Wait -- I heard something >>about a kidnapping?" Barriss can't answer; eyes unfocussed, jaw working but no sound coming out...being saved by the man she'd spent the last 20 years working hard at hating was a bit much, even for a Jedi. Seeing this, Lloyd works his way over, bladework even more fierce now. When he's close enough, he starts to help Anakin get Barriss off the field. >> Unfortunately, that rescue gave Vader what he wanted -- Quiet >>Moon, alone. "And now," he intones fatefully, "we shall see if there >>is more wisdom in you than to judge an opponent by his size." And he >>attacks, moving with astonishing speed, given his height and bulk... "It was an observation, not a judgement." Quiet Moon answers, almost conversationally. The staff spins slowly in his hand, waiting to start its attack. The first few swings are relatively light; each testing out the other. Then the dance truly starts. Staff impacts saber time and again, The Kai's every attack blocked by the Dark Lord's blood-coloured saber. Similarly, the Sith's blade is stopped by the whirling staff. As the fight progresses, Quiet Moon diverts some of his focus away, creating a psychic aura. As Sith and Kai duel, the Imperial troops slow down their fire, and start to watch the duel. [That should give the Rebels a chance to pull back.] Quiet Moon thinks, returning his attention to the fight at hand, 'Kenobi effect' well and truly set. That done... "You are a worthy opponent, Darth Vader." Quiet Moon says formally. "However, I regret that I must end this battle." So saying, the Kai takes a step back, switching to a two-handed grip on one end of his staff, swinging it like an oversized sword. Three more strikes are exchanged, then the Kai drops, seperating the staff into two parts, one coming up for defense, the other shooting forward in an attempt to trip the Dark Lord. At the same time, Lloyd jumps up, bisects one technodemon with his swords, then flips over, and slam both his swords into the ground right behind Vader, shouting "TIGER BLADE!" OOC note: If it works, QM'll pull back. If not...hey, round 2 anyone? =========================== Subject: Re: AAE9s: Dark Forces (retcon) On Mon, 04 Jul 2005 16:34:56 -0700 Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00012599 >On Fri, 24 Jun 2005 11:57:17 -0700 (PDT) >Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00012594 > >>Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00012583 >> >> Leia gasps, then sighs. "Evacuate the base! Repeat, evacuate the >>base! All non-combatants to the transports! Everyone else, start >>falling back!" She fires a bolt at Vader, who (again) parries >>effortlessly. "I hate him," she says almost casually. > > Rob grabs a pair of blasters, and begins using them. Even with his >Force-enhanced abilities, he still can't hit Vader, but he can use >Vader's lightsaber. And Vader is the only person in the fight that he >can't hit. > Shots ricochet from every lightsaber in the melee, to hit >techno-demons and Imperial Guardsmen from unexpected angles, even as >Rob moves towards the hangar bay. He isn't even aiming - just >trusting that this new ability is reliable. > [Ladies and Gentlemen, introducing Jedi Gun Fu.] "How uncivilized," Qui-Gon quips as he dances through Tharkoldu, saber swirling and slashing with fluid grace. "It _does_ work though, doesn't it, Master?" Anakin replies, flipping over a pair of Imperial Guardsmen. He slashes through them both on re-entry, only to receive an unpleasant burn along his back as a Guardsman's pike grazes him. "Hnn." Anakin wheels around to parry, but a blaster bolt has already burned a hole through his opponent's helmet. Padme salutes with her blaster quickly, then returns to covering the retreat. Anakin can't help but grin. Vader, too, observes this. "That's interesting." In Theah, Roger Sparrow feels like someone just stepped on his grave. ;^) While some Imperial Guardsmen are only barely able to parry the blasts, and Tharkoldu are too confident about their prowess to even see this attack coming until it's too late, Vader is another story entirely. A deflected bolt flies towards him, but with sudden deliberation, he reflects it in an unexpected direction. Padme leaps away as a hull flares with light near her, dropping to the ground to avoid shrapnel. She grunts as something tears from her head, then looks up in shock. Vader has closed his free gauntlet on several strands of her hair. Padme raises an eyebrow. "Hair pulling, Ani? That's a bit low, even for what you've become, isn't it?" "The person you refer to is dead. I am Darth Vader." A container in his belt opens, and the hair flies into it. "And you..." he pauses. "...you..." Padme glares. "Say it." "...you are no longer necessary." Vader's breath becomes more labored, but he follows through -- with a single, savage gesture, he directs a trio of Tharkoldu at her. Qui-Gon is already there. Before the techno-demons are even halfway to her, he has deflected over a dozen bolts at them, scattering the trio. Anakin manages to remain calm, continuing to protect the retreating rebels. -- Anakin & Anakin "I think I'm a clone now..." "Weird Al" Yankovic =========================== Subject: Re: AAE9s: Revenge of the Sith On Mon, 04 Jul 2005 22:57:16 -0700 Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00012600 >On Mon, 04 Jul 2005 09:41:17 -0700 >Patrick O'Shea Said As CAoL Message # 00012598 > >>On Thu, 23 Jun 2005 21:24:33 -0700 >>Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00012592 > >Lloyd stews for a second, muttering something about 'Jedi snappy >comeback techniques.' Good with his weapons. Noble heart. Just not >the brightest bulb in the room. *snerk* >>"Wait -- I heard something about a kidnapping?" > >Barriss can't answer; eyes unfocussed, jaw working but no sound >coming out...being saved by the man she'd spent the last 20 years >working hard at hating was a bit much, even for a Jedi. > >Seeing this, Lloyd works his way over, bladework even more fierce >now. When he's close enough, he starts to help Anakin get Barriss off >the field. "Thanks, kid," Ani says. Then he gets a better look at Barriss, both with normal senses and Force awareness...and realizes she's about twenty years 'too old.' "oh." >> Unfortunately, that rescue gave Vader what he wanted -- Quiet >>Moon, alone. "And now," he intones fatefully, "we shall see if there >>is more wisdom in you than to judge an opponent by his size." And he >>attacks, moving with astonishing speed, given his height and bulk... > >"It was an observation, not a judgement." Quiet Moon answers, almost >conversationally. The staff spins slowly in his hand, waiting to >start its attack. "So noted." >[That should give the Rebels a chance to pull back.] Quiet Moon >thinks, returning his attention to the fight at hand, 'Kenobi effect' >well and truly set. Those who are both Force-sensitive and observant can catch a brief, highly translucent glimpse of the older Obi-Wan, smiling faintly in approval, as the Imperials' attention is diverted. >"You are a worthy opponent, Darth Vader." Quiet Moon says formally. >"However, I regret that I must end this battle." So saying, the Kai >takes a step back, switching to a two-handed grip on one end of his >staff, swinging it like an oversized sword. Three more strikes are >exchanged, then the Kai drops, seperating the staff into two parts, >one coming up for defense, the other shooting forward in an attempt >to trip the Dark Lord. At the same time, Lloyd jumps up, bisects one >technodemon with his swords, then flips over, and slam both his >swords into the ground right behind Vader, shouting "TIGER BLADE!" "Your regret is well-placed," Vader intones with a disconcertingly pleased tone in his voice. Yet his confidence seems misplaced as the attacking staff appears to knock the Sith off his feet, sending him sprawling. His cape swirls to one side, somehow dignified even in his unfortunate situation. As Lloyd lands behind Vader, however, the cape pulls away in the last instant, revealing that he has positioned himself perfectly between the two! As the Tiger Blade goes off, Vader plants his free hand on the ground and smoothly flows out of the way, his cape pulling back to reveal each hero to the other...too late. To ensure his trick works, Vader Force-guides the sorcerous blast into Quiet Moon. Meanwhile, he somersaults smoothly, his boots landing on the hilts of Lloyd's blades and pinning them with a terrible finality into the ground. An instant later, his saber hangs over Lloyd's neck, a Sith Sword of Damocles. "The boy is skilled, for a Padawan with such primitive weapons and Force powers," Vader concedes. "Yet he was never a match for me. Yield, Offee, and I will trade your life for his." "no..." Anakin breathes in, a moment's terror filling him. Then with a power Darth Vader has never known, he forces the fear to be gone. Filling himself with calm, he reaches out, one hand extended. The gauntlet holding the lightsaber quivers. Vader glares at Anakin. "You cannot. It is impossible." "That is why you fail," Anakin replies, his voice calm and even in a way neither version has ever known. "barriss, may i suggest alacrity?" he whispers to the older Jedi. -- Anakin & Anakin redux "No, I'm Chaos and _he's_ Mayhem, we're a double act." --Martin Riggs =========================== Subject: Re: AAE9s: You came in that thing? On Fri, 8 Jul 2005 16:28:25 -0700 (PDT) Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00012601 >Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00012599 > > Qui-Gon is already there. Before the techno-demons are even >halfway to her, he has deflected over a dozen bolts at them, >scattering the trio. Anakin manages to remain calm, continuing to >protect the retreating rebels. As Rob makes his way into the hangar bay, he spots a man in dirty coveralls with oily brown hair. Although, judging by the amount of oil on him, that might not be his natural color. The real problem, in Rob's eyes, is that his ship (?) has two panels open, and there's an R2 unit working on one with its arc welder, while the man in coveralls works on the other with a hydrospanner. "OK, I've got everything ready to test here! How're you?" The droid blurps mournfully, causing his partner to curse. Rob steps up. "Anything I can do to help?" "Get in the cockpit and check the monitors at station four. I'll explain from there." The ship, which is apparently named, "Walker's Head," is built from a salvaged chunk of an AT-AT, with a pair of modified cargo containers in the middle, and engines tacked on the back. The whole thing is painted primer grey, with its name in blue spraypaint. In short, it wouldn't look out of place in a weed-filled front yard, put up on concrete blocks. (All right, a -really big- front yard.) The interior isn't much better; control runs are covered with clear plastic panels that have been duct-taped in place, if they are covered at all. The cockpit is the only section that isn't frightening, although the modifications necessary to turn an AT-AT command center into a starship are a bit ugly. Station four is showing seven lines, one of which is in red. Keying the ship's communication system (clearly labeled "COMM SYSTEM" in what appears to be permanent marker), Rob reports, "Number six is at ten percent, everything else is at eighty." A "spzark" sound comes over the comm. "And now?" "Everything just jumped to ninety percent." "Thanks! OK, close up! We're good!" A moment later, the man rushes in, his R2 unit beside him, and takes the console in the middle of the room, which has a blue "1" spray-painted on the floor next to its chair. "Name's Phil, by the way," he says as he types in a few commands, "and my friend's R2-0K." Rob's monitors switch to a targeting screen and radar display. "Check the help files, you're on the belt turret." Pre-flight check takes thirty seconds, and is limited to strapping in, and turning everything on that needs to be. [This kludge looks worse than the Milennium Falcon,] Rob notes, [and I didn't think that was possible.] The gunnery controls, fortunately, are easy to understand. Phil is no Han Solo, and the Head is barely faster than a bulk transport. But the guns are just short of being too powerful for the spaceframe, and the shields bounce TIE fighter blasts like rain off an adamantium roof. As the Head flies away from the base, Rob asks, "Who built this thing?" "I did. Had to spend six months hiding out in an Impie junkyard, living on emergency rations. This gave me something to do." Rob politely does not say what he's thinking about the sanity of his pilot. =========================== Subject: Re: AAE9s: Revenge of the Sith On Tue, 12 Jul 2005 10:20:41 -0700 Patrick O'Shea Said As CAoL Message # 00012604 >On Mon, 04 Jul 2005 22:57:16 -0700 >Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00012600 > > "That is why you fail," Anakin replies, his voice calm and even in >a way neither version has ever known. "barriss, may i suggest >alacrity?" he whispers to the older Jedi. As Anakin makes his suggesting to Barriss, several things happen almost simultaneously: -Barriss surges out of Anakin's grip, sword up, aura twisting as the Dark Side tears at her soul. -Quiet Moon recovers, and gets ready to re-enter the fray. -Anakin, thrown off slightly by Barriss' sudden attack, finds that someone has thrown a boulder at him. -Lloyd manages to force Vader's blade back using his own skill at the Force, and then vanishes, grabbed by a black and white shadow. The above takes place in only a second. Lloyd, concentration shot, blades a few meters away from him, looks into the face of a living skull. "Remember, boy," Asajj Ventress hisses, "remember, as you plod along the path of weakness. Remember you owe your life to a Sith. And tell Anakin that I will be coming for him." With a smirk, she vanishes. Quiet Moon catches this, but is out of position to react; no matter, as Lloyd has already telekinetically recalled his swords, and is working his way back to Anakin's side, still unaware of Barriss' Fall. Quiet Moon watches the duel start, then realizes that whatever power Vader is using, the Miralan Jedi has also tapped into, and the sheer power is killing her. There is a chance, a faint one, that Barriss might be able to drive back Vader. Not defeat, but certainly delay him. The cost would be her life, however. The two duel fiercely, Barriss' own speed, strength, and killer instinct pushed to frenetic levels by the whisperings of the Dark Side. Her style is nothing like before; the fear is gone, replaced by rage and pain. Unconciously, names come out of Barriss' mouth, names of friends of hers at the temple, all cut down by the traitorous Vader. In the midst of this, a hauntingly familiar voice taunts Vader. "And you, 'Chosen One'...you, I shall enjoy fighting again." There is an instant, a too-fast flash of black, and the voice is gone. Barriss misses this, too consumed to register anything outside of her goal: Kill Vader/Anakin. Her lightsaber twists, spins, and slashes, almost too fast to track. Even so, the stress of drawing so much power is taking its toll, both physically and spiritually. Desperate to save the Jedi before she falls completely, the Kai analyzes the fight. His Power Baton is a good weapon, but at a disadvantage in this fight; Vader's lightsaber has virtually no mass, and can reach speeds unattainable to normal weapons. There really is no choice. His hand reaches to his belt, taking the lightsaber he had liberated from one of the Imperial attackers only minutes before (back in CAoL Message # 00012576 - *Not* Smilin' Stan). Amazingly, he can feel a psychic trace on the blade. An aura of darkness trying to overlay light, weakened and cut down before its time, before it could prove itself. The eagerness is still there, waiting to get out. A quick psychic charge dispels the dark traces, providing a brief image. A temple. A young boy, overmatched but holding his ground before impossible odds. Quiet Moon's eyes narrow. [Then this shall be your proving ground.] There is a snap-hiss as the white and blue energy beam extends. He glances around. The other Rebels are starting to pull back. Good. That left Vader. Dipping into his mystical training, Quiet Moon calls up a mystical barrier, placing it between Barriss and Vader. The shock of her blade striking nothing is enough to snap Barriss out of her fugue state, and she collapses, spent. Keeping the barrier up while Barriss is retrieved, Quiet Moon slowly approaches the Sith Lord. "Fight or leave. Your choice." OOC: Vader's response? Remember, the power of Highlander COMPELS him! =========================== Subject: Re: AAE9s: Revenge of the Sith On Tue, 12 Jul 2005 17:43:54 -0400 David McMillan Said As CAoL Message # 00012605 >Roland X wrote: >> "...and the shift change takes place here, in front of the Grand >>Entrance," Princess Leia explains, pointing at the hologram. >> Roland frowns. "Right in front of the cameras, the Stormtrooper >>patrols, and half of New Delhi. So much for ambushing the Imperial >>Guard during the change." The Champion leans back a half-fist >>covering his mouth as he ponders the map. >> "Maybe you could use these 'Starspawn' you've mentioned," Luke >>suggests. >> Roland shakes his head. "I'm trying to keep them in reserve as >>much as possible. We're going to need them to absorb the Possibility >>shock when we displace the Emperor. Besides, the thought of what the >>Dark Side would do with them gives even _me_ the shakes." He looks >>at the hologram of the palace again and taps his lips with his >>forefinger. Grephnix doesn't shudder, but looks... perturbed at the thought. >>"Why can't we just teleport in?" Morgan asks. >> >> Roland points to six small dots around the palace edge. "Reality >>stabilizers. They specifically prevent spacial or temporal effects >>within their area. We might be able to overcome them, but..." he "I can, perhaps, contrive to slip into the building between shadows," Grephnix offers thoughtfully, eyeing the hologram. "At least, into the areas not heavily 'saturated' in the Dark Side -- I could, in all probability, also move there, but only with a substantial risk of detection, and even some real risk of being captured or... diverted." He leans closer to the display, studying its smaller details. "As the matter stands, it would be unwise in the extreme to assume that I could enter even the outlying sectors with certainty of remaining undiscovered... but for me to mount a preemptive strike against, perhaps, *here*--" He touches a particular room lightly. "And mount an overt feint whilst simultaneously subverting, or at least disrupting, the palace's security arrangements... this, I believe, lies within the range of our acceptable risk." He taps his lips with one finger. "I would be unable to take and *hold* a given position for long, but I can certainly sow a great deal of chaos and confusion." He smiles urbanely at his fellow map-studiers. "There are those who would say that such activity is, to use the vernacular, my 'stock in trade.'" >> "Hmmph. Then what--" Leia begins. As she speaks, Luke looks up >>suddenly from where he sits, hand going unconsciously to his >>lightsaber. Anakin and Qui-Gon, more fully attuned, have already >>drawn their weapons and are standing back to back. Grephnix is already in motion towards the nearest shadow, unlit saber in hand. >> It doesn't take long for the immortal pair to drive back twice >>their number in Guardsmen, even backed up by a full platoon of >>Stormtroopers, but then techno-demons take their place, and the >>lovers are hard-pressed. A slip of shadow, a snatch of music in two keys, and a blue-white blur drops a t-d maneuvering for a shot at the immortals. Another t-d is yanked without warning into a patch of shadow, and does not emerge. Unfortunately, the other t-ds are bright enough to start keeping a greater distance from patches of deep shadow after this. But that limits their maneuverability, which still helps out the good guys... >> The pain subsides, and Roland can swear that, just for a moment, >>he hears something scream in pain and fear. /Thanks, love. "Hy-AH!"/ >>The farther demon's cybernetics short out, and it falls. His other >>opponent takes wing, appearing to retreat. "Yeah, that's right, come >>back when you want to get your butt handed to you aggAGGHH!" Grephnix tumbles out of a shadow into the midst of a cluster of Gaurdsmen, looking as if he had tripped over something. Before he can recover, the nearest Guardsman lands a telling blow with his staff, tumbling the gray Jedi across the ground. Grephnix rolls back to his feet quickly, shaking his head as if it were ringing and looking badly distracted. The dual-key music turns darker, ominous, and he spins about, looking for some threat beyond the enclosing circle of Guardsmen... >> Even the protective wards Morgan has set up cannot protect the >>Eternal from this assault, and he stumbles back, falling on his >>side. "Well well well," a familiar voice echoes, and Roland looks up >>in surprise. >> "You!" >> "Me," Aras benHaav agrees, a sadistic smile on his (yes, his) >>face. The remaining techno-demon from the initial assault on Roland >>attacks Morgan, making her battle three on one. Grephnix bounces around the inside of the circle, wielding his saber one-bladed and one-handed, still looking as if his mind is somewhere else. His expression is becoming more worried, more closed, even as his distracted blade-work becomes smoother and stronger. >> "No," Roland moans, leaning on his pike in a Herculean effort to >>rise. >> "Yes," Aras replies, once again prosaic. The assault intensifies >>manyfold. A series of horrific runes light up all over his >>cyberware, and Roland screams. >> His powers have been completely suppressed. He remains immortal, >>but is otherwise completely human. Equilibrium... tilts. The song of Light cedes center stage to a growing chorus of darkness. And Grephnix's face recedes further into his hood as the second blade of his saber ignites... >> "Oh, you have no idea how long I've been planning this," Aras >>laughs silkily, striding over to the writhing hero. With an almost >>gentle caress, he shifts Roland's flesh around his hand, reaching >>inside him. Roland's screams intensify. "I'm going to shift you into >>a techno-demon. Then I'm going to dominate you. _Then_ I'm going to >>make you beg, limbless, while I slowly butcher your woman. At the >>end, you will be a self-aware breeding pod. An _immortal_ self-aware >>breeding pod." He smiles as Roland actually tries to swing the pike, >>turning the bones in his arms to water. "And all your friends are >>busy with Vader and his legions. This is so very satisfying, I must >>say..." A helical slash of blue-white, tinged with a hint of red, strikes down a squad's worth of Guardsmen as Grephnix drops from a spiralling pirouette into a breakdancer-style spin on his back, spinning like a top as his whirling lightsaber blades turn the radius of his blades' reach into a circle of annihilation. The grey Jedi stands in the center of a circle of fallen, face no longer visible within his hood to an outside observer. His lightsaber's blades vanish with a snap. There is a moment's silence, broken only by a distant, trembling song. And then there is no one. >> A lightsaber-claymore hybrid plunges through benHaav's chest, >>incinerating his heart and sticking three feet out of his rib cage. >>"Kuh...kuh...kuh..." >> "I can fix that," another familiar voice cuts in, a burst of >>magicks that put Aras' to shame disorienting the druidess long >>enough for a hyper-enhanced arm to blur around her, attaching a >>small crackling box to her forehead. Morgan's eyes roll upward, then >>close, and she collapses into Thratchen's waiting arms. Her sword >>hangs limp, but remains in her hand, clutched in a death-grip. The >>lightsaber-aura around the blade vanishes. Something darker than the night, almost akin to a Nazgul, emerges from the nearest shadow behind Thratchen singing a silent song of lethal intent-- >> "no," Roland moans again, eyes flickering weakly with energy. >> "AH-ah," Thratchen chuckles, a claw popping out directly above >>Morgan's neck. Roland freezes, helpless horror frozen on his face. >>"You will get your chance, never fear. For now..." it glares at >>benHaav, whose eyes have glazed over. --and freezes, a tiny shiver the only outward sign of a worldshaking level of rage. Inside the utter darkness of its hood, two tiny sparks of light apear, somehow simultaneously both red and blue without the colors actually mixing. >> "...master...master..." Aras croaks. >> "Expendable fool," Thratchen snarls. "Did you truly think you >>could plot to supplant me without my knowledge?" It spits on Aras, >>and where the fluid lands, it burns acid-like into the lesser >>demon's skull. He dies before the acid even reaches his brain. >> "As for you," the High Lord continues silkily, turning back to >>Roland. >> "if you so much as scratch her," Roland begins. >> "Yes yes, I know, hunt me to the ends of creation, set the >>Stardragon on me, shatter my bones and scatter my molecules across >>the cosmos," the Demon Prince replies airily. The spark's within the "Nazgul's" hood shift more toward red. >>"I have no intention of killing the woman..." again, Thratchen >>smiles toothily. "...as long as you end this _my_ way." >> Roland's eyes narrow as his arms begin to unwind from the pike, >>bones stiffening ever so slightly. "I didn't think the 'duel to the >>death' was your thing, Thratchen." >> "We must face one another. The Everlaw makes it inevitable. >>However," Thratchen explains smoothly, its smile broadening and its >>grip on the unconscious Greywolf tightening, "I _can_ make it a time >>and a place of my choosing. Besides, it suits my sense of >>dominance." It motions vaguely at Roland with Morgan's body. "You >>can follow her 'signal' to me." The smile vanishes. "Come alone, >>immortal. Well, I will permit you to bring the boy Anakin," it adds >>off-handedly, and both warriors glance over at where the young Jedi >>and his master duel a half-dozen Imperial Guards, "but I doubt >>you'll place that opportunity before me." The shadow begins to move forward towards Thratchen's open back -- and freezes as a small utility arm unfolds from the techno-demon's shoulder, R2D2-like, and waves in an obvious "nuh-uh-uhhh!" gesture. The bright half of the song has shrunk to a single silver thread stretched thin through a raging black storm. The hint of pure homicidal fury leaking out past that iron control should make even Thratchen just a bit apprehensive. If not, the techno-demon is a fool of Galactic proportions. >> Roland's face is a rictus of fury. "I'd rather burn in hell." >> "It's overrated," Thratchen quips dryly. "Alone, Storm Knight, or >>she'll awaken to live just long enough to know you failed her." >> With that, the two vanish, Aramegil falling to the ground where >>they had stood. Roland's face is a mask of grief and worry as he >>falls to the ground beside it, his limp, snake-like arms clutching >>at the hilt. A desperate need to help the fallen immortal rages against a sea of pure murderous bloodlust, freezing the shadow-illuminated grey Jedi in a paralysis of indecision. >> A cool blue-green glow covers the Eternal in a gentle nimbus. >>Within seconds, his body is healed. His devastated Halo and >>distraught emotion are another story, though he can use his powers >>again. >> A fresh pair of techno-demons (nothing is left of the trio that >>faced Morgan but kibble) charges at Roland. He charges back, at >>least The sudden shift of circumstance shocks Grephnix off of dead center, but by the time his saber is alight-- >>with electricity. With no concern for subtlety, he knocks both >>unconscious, though their nervous systems may never be the same. In >>his right hand, Aramegil flares to life again, sheathed in blue >>power that flays the air around it. In his left, the pike springs >>out once more, tipped with a blue power 'head' like a spear. *"I >>have to go,"* he spits hoarsely, transmitting savagely at the enemy >>as well. *"On the other hand, I can't abandon my teammates. I >>suggest that anyone who wants to get out of this battle with all >>their parts intact leaves. NOW."* Something... is wrong. The silver thread vibrates with that realization, thrumming a new note that is almost lost against the bass profundo thunder of the darkness. The thread coils like a spring, drawing into itself, tightening, thickening, straining against the storm that threatens to rend it asunder... ...and Grephnix slowly, haltingly, reaches up and pulls his hood back. The shadow flows away from his face viscously, almost reluctantly, as if he were trying to pull himself out of a pool of thick oil. His face is nearly as imperturbable as always, but his eyes... his eyes look shaken. He's breathing more heavily than he should as he stares at the spot just vacated by Thratchen and his hostage. "Mother..." =========================== Subject: Re: AAE9s: Revenge of the Sith On Wed, 13 Jul 2005 20:22:57 -0400 David McMillan Said As CAoL Message # 00012608 >Patrick O'Shea wrote: > >Dipping into his mystical training, Quiet Moon calls up a mystical >barrier, placing it between Barriss and Vader. The shock of her blade >striking nothing is enough to snap Barriss out of her fugue state, >and she collapses, spent. Keeping the barrier up while Barriss is >retrieved, Quiet Moon slowly approaches the Sith Lord. "Fight or >leave. Your choice." OOC: I am *loving* this whole plot thread. Just wish I could get in on it. Unfortunately.... Rogas Grephnix, the Gray Jedi Master, is currently doing an excellent impression of the new Jedi Drunken-Force-User technique. Or possibly the Absentminded-Jedi-Professor technique. He's not staggering, or flailing, but he's not operating with any apparent coherent plan, either -- merely caroming from one enemy to another on a trajectory that leads vaguely in the direction of the evac ships, while staying well clear of the current storm surging about Vader. His hood is down, his lightsaber has only one blade lit, and he's using his blaster in his free hand. In fact, he moves more like Morgan wielding her claymore than a Jedi -- well, if Morgan used a pistol as a main gauche, had a migraine, and was barely paying attention to what she was doing... His mind is a maelstrom of disjointed, fragmentary thoughts as he blocks an overhead strike from a technodemon with his blade and pumps the attacker full of blasterfire shooting from the hip, then turns to find a Crimson Guard leaping at him. His mother has been kidnapped by one of his family's worst enemies-- --advance firing blaster, tie up his weapon blocking, thrust through the opening-- His father has been forced off the battlefield by same, and is decidedly vulnerable-- --incoming fire, duck duck parry shoot shoot shoot deck roll upstroke-- And he, the oh-so-grandly selfstyled "fulcrum," "balancer," "in-betweener"-- --target, shoot, target, shoot, tar-BLADE DUCK parry shootshootshootshoot strike-- --had not only been completely USELESS to either of them, but in addition fell from the balancing point where he had been wielding both sides of the Force as if it had never existed, and straight into the waiting embrace of the Darkness. --fighters overhead, duck&cover, targets, snipe snipe duck roll-- And while he escaped, barely, he can still hear it calling, crooning, beckoning. And can feel his own helpless rage reaching to meet it halfway. --Friendlies. Covering fire. Duck, dodge DEMONS two blockstrikeshootstrikeshootblockshootstrike-- The only thing keeping his rage from bridging the divide, he suspects sickly, is his fear. Except of course fear leads there too, just more... indirectly.... --open ground sprint sprint incoming drop roll roll up shootshootshWHAM-- The Gray Jedi tumbles across the ground, smoking from blackened hole in his cloak. As part of his mind tries to figure out where that shot came from and what to do next, most of his intellect is grappling with a much larger issue: For the first time, one of the five current Rogers is seriously wondering if Roger Prime, when he split himself into cosm-idealized subselves, made a truly lethal miscalculation as to how far each cosm's rules could be bent, even by *him*.... OOC: Um. *might* need a little help, here. Oops. OOC2: Roger's really not used to rules he can't evade, bend, or even break (as long as he glues them back together quickly enough afterward). Oh, *people's* rules he'll obey, out of effection, respect, or natural easygoingness, but *cosmic* rules? He was *made* to break them! Or squirm through the loopholes, or create an exception, or just slide past like a wet bar of soap. Running into a cosmic rule that maybe he *can't* treat this way is something of a shock to the poor lad, I'm afeared.... =========================== Subject: Re: AAE9s: Revenge of the Sith On Sat, 23 Jul 2005 23:49:42 -0700 Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00012610 >On Tue, 12 Jul 2005 17:43:54 -0400 >David McMillan Said As CAoL Message # 00012605 > Something... is wrong. The silver thread vibrates with that >realization, thrumming a new note that is almost lost against the >bass profundo thunder of the darkness. The thread coils like a >spring, drawing into itself, tightening, thickening, straining >against the storm that threatens to rend it asunder... > ...and Grephnix slowly, haltingly, reaches up and pulls his hood >back. The shadow flows away from his face viscously, almost >reluctantly, as if he were trying to pull himself out of a pool of >thick oil. His face is nearly as imperturbable as always, but his >eyes... his eyes look shaken. He's breathing more heavily than he >should as he stares at the spot just vacated by Thratchen and his >hostage. "Mother..." As exhausted as the Champion is, Roland manages to spare a thought for his time-displaced son. /She'll be all right, Roger. I promise./ An attempt at a chuckle vanishes quickly. /Have I ever failed her?/ >On Wed, 13 Jul 2005 20:22:57 -0400 >David McMillan Said As CAoL Message # 00012608 > > The Gray Jedi tumbles across the ground, smoking from blackened >hole in his cloak. As part of his mind tries to figure out where that >shot came from and what to do next, most of his intellect is >grappling with a much larger issue: > For the first time, one of the five current Rogers is seriously >wondering if Roger Prime, when he split himself into cosm-idealized >subselves, made a truly lethal miscalculation as to how far each >cosm's rules could be bent, even by *him*.... ...and Qui-Gon comes to a full and complete stop...eventually...almost nose to nose with the Grey Jedi. "To use the vernacular," Qui-Gon coughs weakly, "did someone catch the serial code of that spice freighter?" > OOC2: Roger's really not used to rules he can't evade, bend, or >even break (as long as he glues them back together quickly enough >afterward). Oh, *people's* rules he'll obey, out of effection, >respect, or natural easygoingness, but *cosmic* rules? He was *made* >to break them! Or squirm through the loopholes, or create an >exception, or just slide past like a wet bar of soap. > Running into a cosmic rule that maybe he *can't* treat this way is >something of a shock to the poor lad, I'm afeared.... OOC: Yeah, the Force can be like that. Isn't it fun? ;^) =========================== Subject: Re: AAE9s: Revenge of the Sith On Mon, 25 Jul 2005 19:41:56 -0700 Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00012612 >On Tue, 12 Jul 2005 10:20:41 -0700 >Patrick O'Shea Said As CAoL Message # 00012604 > >>On Mon, 04 Jul 2005 22:57:16 -0700 >>Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00012600 >> >> "That is why you fail," Anakin replies, his voice calm and even >>in a way neither version has ever known. "barriss, may i suggest >>alacrity?" he whispers to the older Jedi. > >As Anakin makes his suggesting to Barriss, several things happen >almost simultaneously: > >-Barriss surges out of Anakin's grip, sword up, aura twisting as the >Dark Side tears at her soul. "Wh-oh, _no!"_ Ani blurts. >-Anakin, thrown off slightly by Barriss' sudden attack, finds that >someone has thrown a boulder at him. "oboy." The Chosen One throws out his hand and focuses, and the boulder stops in mid-air, though it wavers dangerously. Anakin sweats noticeably. "'size matters not.' right. how does master yoda _do_ it?" >-Lloyd manages to force Vader's blade back using his own skill at the >Force, and then vanishes, grabbed by a black and white shadow. "Interesting," Vader intones, only very mildly put out. With a casual flicker of movement, he hops off the blades and lands next to them. >"Remember, boy," Asajj Ventress hisses, "remember, as you plod along >the path of weakness. Remember you owe your life to a Sith. And tell >Anakin that I will be coming for him." With a smirk, she vanishes. "a sith? you?" Vader's amusement is evident to anyone who can hear him, though his whisper is low enough that anyone without enhanced senses isn't going to hear anything from him but his rebreather. "the apprentice of an apprentice, trained in half-formed dark jedi arts? how...amusing." >Quiet Moon watches the duel start, then realizes that whatever power >Vader is using, the Miralan Jedi has also tapped into, and the sheer >power is killing her. There is a chance, a faint one, that Barriss >might be able to drive back Vader. Not defeat, but certainly delay >him. The cost would be her life, however. "Yes," Vader hisses, "_feel_ your anger. Give in to your rage, your hate! It makes you _strong,_ doesn't it, Offee!?" With almost casual ease, he parries and blocks, allowing himself to remain on the defensive in the lightsaber duel. His offensive is entirely psychological, after all... >The two duel fiercely, Barriss' own speed, strength, and killer >instinct pushed to frenetic levels by the whisperings of the Dark >Side. Her style is nothing like before; the fear is gone, replaced by >rage and pain. Unconciously, names come out of Barriss' mouth, names >of friends of hers at the temple, all cut down by the traitorous >Vader. "Is that the best you can do? Revenge?" Vader taunts her relentlessly as he circles her, still seemingly on the defensive as he slides and flows around the Miralan Jedi. Despite his artificial limbs and armor, Vader is almost fluid. "That is a good place to start, of course, but is that all you desire? Listen to the Dark Side, Barriss. It can teach you more than you can imagine, if you permit it..." >In the midst of this, a hauntingly familiar voice taunts Vader. "And >you, 'Chosen One'...you, I shall enjoy fighting again." There is an >instant, a too-fast flash of black, and the voice is gone. "I think...not," Vader chuckles horrifically. Alas, he does not disappear. ;-) Elsewhere, Ventress reappears in the Emperor's throne room. "Ah, yes," Palpatine cackles. "Tyrannus told me of you once. You will prove useful to me, I think..." >Barriss misses this, too consumed to register anything outside of her >goal: Kill Vader/Anakin. Her lightsaber twists, spins, and slashes, >almost too fast to track. Even so, the stress of drawing so much >power is taking its toll, both physically and spiritually. An evil glint seems to glance off of the black orbs covering Lord Vader's eyes. [Yes...what a perfect notion.] He turns his head subtly to one side to watch Anakin howl in effort, throwing the boulder into the sky to bring down a TIE fighter. [She can barely distinguish me from my weaker, younger self. It is perfect...] >Dipping into his mystical training, Quiet Moon calls up a mystical >barrier, placing it between Barriss and Vader. "What?" Vader asks, annoyance barely noticeable in his voice. >The shock of her blade striking nothing is enough to snap Barriss out >of her fugue state, and she collapses, spent. Keeping the barrier up >while Barriss is retrieved, Quiet Moon slowly approaches the Sith >Lord. "Fight or leave. Your choice." One can almost imagine Vader's eyes popping wide at the sight. Then he...laughs. "What sport! In the style of primitives like Offee's Padawan, I shall 'whet my blade' against your soul." With that, he attacks. Vader holds nothing back, becoming a whirling, implacable incarnation of Death itself. Though not as immediately fast as the quickest Jedi, his blade seems to seek out the moment of weakness, the most awkward angle, the most difficult defense with pinpoint accuracy, and then it is on to the next vulnerability in a twinkling. Though he _is_ fast, there is a deliberation that is all the more disturbing for the speed he _does_ display. At the same time, without seeming to hinder his fighting style in the slightest, Vader probes the Kai's mystical defenses, feeling his way through the warrior's wards and barriers. The Kai is good. Very, very good. But he faces Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith. In a particularly desperate parry, the Kai finds his lightsaber behind his back when Vader attempts a 'wrap' that would literally take the back of his head off. One of Vader's night-black gauntlets releases his own saber and grabs at the air in front of Quiet Moon, and his throat closes painfully. "Still you resist," Vader notes, seeing that the Kai's power has kept the Sith Lord from crushing the neck entirely. "Impressive." Those might have been the last words Quiet Moon would have ever heard, except... "That will do, Anakin," Qui-Gon says simply, and the pressure on the Kai's neck vanishes. Vader steps back. Quiet Moon is flanked by the Jedi partners. The Tharkoldu and Crimson Guards have taken serious losses. Leia looks the scene over...and smiles with cool satisfaction. "Push back! Rogue Squadron, form a perimeter! Gamma Company, form a wedge and break through the Stormtroopers' lines!" "Unlikely," Vader snarls. "Verdant Squad, move forward. {Master, request permission to activate the Fury Protocol.}" {Permission granted, my apprentice. Good hunting.} "Fury Protocol?" Anakin asks as he and Qui-Gon circle Vader in opposite directions. "You are only able to match the Empire's power with your pack of Force-touched special units," Vader hisses, his tone one of cruel humor. "To match them, I have brought my own...special forces...to the field." One unit of Crimson Guardsmen does not fall as easily as the others. Pressing through the rebel defenders, they quickly threaten to break the line. "Anakin, Quiet Moon, leave Vader to me," Qui-Gon suggests. "But Master-!" Anakin blurts. "I will manage. Trust me, Anakin." Qui-Gon sets himself in a smooth ready position. Grimacing, Anakin leaps with blinding speed towards the Imperial Guards. [Why are they 'green?' Their armor is red. They don't even have verdant insignia.] As he meets them, three break off and stop the Chosen One in his tracks. While Anakin is easily a match for any one of them, they are trained to work together like a single machine. "Ani!" Luke blurts, and charges forward. The leader of the Guards sees this and leaps out to meet the Jedi-in-training. When Luke lights his saber, it looks to be a short fight, but the lone Guard somehow matches, then overwhelms, the barely-trained Skywalker. Only a quick slash at his attacker's helmet saves Luke as acrid smoke fills the Guard's helmet just before a spear swipe disarms the last Jedi. "Luke!" Anakin cries, but he can't disentangle himself from the three Guardsmen. Luke's attacker pins the young hero to the ground, knees falling on his arms as the Guard yanks off..._her_ helmet? "Mara, is everything under control?" Vader asks. Mara Jade coughs. "Yes, Lord Vader I..." she looks down into Luke's determined gaze. "...I..." They can feel the sparks fly on Corellia. "Hnn," Qui-Gon grunts, thrown back by a Force Push. "That will avail you little, Lord Vader," the great Jedi says. "Won't it?" Vader nearly laughs. A much stronger use of Force, one coursing with blood-red energy, grabs Qui-Gon and hurls him halfway across the battlefield. Above the rest of the combatants, anyone who follows the trails of power finds a sort of negative Roland floating above them. His armor is red where Defender's is blue and black in most of the places where the hero's is red. The gold is mostly the same, but crimson spikes adorn Red Fury's vambraces. "Is this a private party," Roland Dracul sniggered, "or can _anyone_ join?" Then he lit his double-ended lightsaber. "I've been waiting," Dracul drawls, "to test the skills I learned from Lord Maul." "Don't trouble yourself," Leia snaps, turning a full-auto blaster on Dracul. With deliberate casualness, Red Fury deflects the blaster fire into a convenient X-Wing. Then he points his own ring at Leia. Instantly, she is dressed identically to her 'slave girl' outfit from Return of the Jedi, complete with chain and collar. There are two differences: the chain is anchored to the ground and the bands on her arms are chained behind her back. "WHAT?!" Leia blurts. "Oh, that's right, you haven't gotten there yet," Dracul chuckles. "And now I guess you never will." He looks around as Vader advances menacingly and Mara Jade slowly places her crackling spear point to Luke's throat. "So. Who's next?" Fury laughs Villain Laugh #1. "Of course..." Ani leaps out of his predicament, flying well away from his attackers. "Uncle Roland _said_ he knew how I felt. This must be what he meant -- listen, everyone! This is a mirror of Roland's, as Vader is mine, from another world!" "What, some of these dweebs _didn't_ know that?" Dracul sighs and shakes his head. "Proving once again that 'hero intelligence' is an oxymoron. Now, where was I...oh yes, kicking your pathetic, collective _nasses!_" Dracul explodes with power as he descends... (OOC: This, as Anakin alludes to, is your Roland's mirror-mirror villainous opposite. He's from Earth-6, known as Red Fury, and leads the "Champions of Evil" there, as those who've known Roland for a while now, and those who've studied the Champions archives, would know. Sib, Dhyrclhanc in particular would have been warned about him, not that it'll do Azrael or Zauriel much good... ;^) =========================== Subject: Re: AAE9s: Revenge of the Sith On Tue, 26 Jul 2005 10:15:03 -0700 Harlock - Bard Extraordinaire Said As CAoL Message # 00012614 >On Sun, 18 Jan 2004 22:21:49 -0800 >Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00011695 > > "He out-maneuvered Defender _and_ the Anti-Life Entity. It was >going to betray him." Roland Dracul tapped his armrest idly as he >considered. "Maybe we should hit them now." > "NO," a harsh, rasping voice intoned, and the Storm Window's image >darkened and refocused on the Gaunt Man. "Patience, Roland," he >continued in a more placating tone. > Fury considered this again. "Why? This could be our shot. > "Our position is not sufficiently overwhelming," the Gaunt Man >replied. "There is NEMO to consider, as well as the Starspawn." > "Hah!" Dracul barked. "I'd put money on my Neron and Cthulhu over >those cosmic Care Bears of Captain Pollyanna's any day, and you've >got OMEN." > "I have no intention of affording them any chance of victory. >Remember your Sun Tzu. _Patience._ Soon enough, you will have his >head and his female." The Gaunt Man paused, staring. > Red Fury drummed his fingers agitatedly. Solitaire-6 leaned to >whisper in his ear. "You hold back with me," she hissed. "Only a >little, but imagine a me you don't have to hold back with..." > "Silence, you siren," he said, though without heat. Solitaire >preened. "Seeker?" > "Eh, what's a few more weeks? That f---ing Preserver may have >liberated Africa, but he's too busy consolidating to give us any >grief." Seeker licked the last drop of blood off his sword. "The >longer the wait, the sweeter the wine." > Red Fury nodded. "All right. All right. I've waited too long for >this rematch to screw it up for a dubious attack of opportunity." He >leaned forward. "But don't try to play _me,_ Gaunt Man. You wouldn't >be the first head I've stuck on a pike for that." He waved his hand >in a sharp cutting gesture, and the scene returned to the battle at >hand. A harsh voice sounded from out of the shadows. "So when _will_ we get our turn, then? I've a score to settle with that damnable Bard." Red Fury turned an exasperated glare on the cloaked figure. "I realize that, Jarek. That's why we plucked you out of your version of Hell, after all. But that skinny bastard has a point: we need to wait for the right time." "Very well, Dracul, but I begin to grow...bored. You wouldn't want somebody of my abilities growing bored, would you?" Jarek suddenly found himself suspended from a TK grip. "Was that a challenge," inquired Red Fury mildly. "A challenge?" For the first time, emotion leaked into Jarek's voice: need bordering on obsession. A long moment later, his voice calm again (if still rather harsh) he continued, "no. No, stupidity is it's own punishment, after all. Forgive me for misspeaking. I merely wished to point out that my skills may deteriorate if not used. But for the truly ambitious, being the power behind the throne is often far more useful than being on the throne one's self." Red Fury smirked. "And you being the newly-crowned demon prince of ambition, blah, blah, blah..." The smirk left his face as he stared hard at Jarek's still-suspended form. "I'll give you the same warning I gave the Gaunt Man. Don't try to play me. You're here for one reason and one reason only: to deal with that Bard you hate so much. Cross me and I will personally see to it that you get tossed into a monoblock. Clear?" "Crystal. Would you mind putting me down now?" >On Mon, 25 Jul 2005 19:41:56 -0700 >Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00012612 > > With deliberate casualness, Red Fury deflects the blaster fire >into a convenient X-Wing. Then he points his own ring at Leia. >Instantly, she is dressed identically to her 'slave girl' outfit from >Return of the Jedi, complete with chain and collar. There are two >differences: the chain is anchored to the ground and the bands on her >arms are chained behind her back. "WHAT?!" Leia blurts. > "Oh, that's right, you haven't gotten there yet," Dracul chuckles. >"And now I guess you never will." He looks around as Vader advances >menacingly and Mara Jade slowly places her crackling spear point to >Luke's throat. "So. Who's next?" Fury laughs Villain Laugh #1. > "Of course..." Ani leaps out of his predicament, flying well away >from his attackers. "Uncle Roland _said_ he knew how I felt. This >must be what he meant -- listen, everyone! This is a mirror of >Roland's, as Vader is mine, from another world!" > "What, some of these dweebs _didn't_ know that?" Dracul sighs and >shakes his head. "Proving once again that 'hero intelligence' is an >oxymoron. Now, where was I...oh yes, kicking your pathetic, >collective _nasses!_" Dracul explodes with power as he descends... A cloaked figure melts out of the shadows near Vader, scanning the battlefield. [Hmph. Damnable Bard's nowhere to be seen. Plan B, then.] A harsh whisper, not intended for any ears but the Dark Lord of the Sith's, emerges from the hood. "Lord Vader, a word in your ear when this little tete-a-tete has played itself out?" =========================== Subject: AAE9s: Jawas, Gungans and Ewoks! Oh My! On Thu, 28 Jul 2005 02:34:30 +0100 Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00012615 Moonstone had been riding quietly in the speeding vehicle, staring disinterestedly into the jungle below. It had been mercifully quiet after their encounter with Markoth had finally ended, and the team was on their way to the Rebel base. All seemingly was going well, and Moonstone had slipped into introspection. Something broke that fugue, however, and the albino dragon disguised as a Yodaling stiffened in her seat, staring intently over the side at something they were passing. Then she got up and started scrabbling around inside the small compartments of the craft. Three expandable rods, a few tools from the toolkit, some industrial-grade adhesive strips, some cord, another rod with a couple joints in it for getting around corners, and a tarp of extremely thin fabric suddenly turned into... Well, it was hard to tell what it was. Moonstone grinned, "I'm gonna follow a hunch, I'll keep everyone posted and meet you at the Rebel base. May the Force be with us all." Contraption in hand, she lept over the side. As she fell, she snapped the device open. The device suddenly made sense, seeing it in action. It was a hang-glider, of diminutive proportions for a diminutive pilot. She sailed over the jungle like she belonged in the air, and after a fashion, it wasn't alien terrain to her, just alien to this alien form. The feeling guiding her seemed to want her to arc left, though she could feel her destination was toward the way they'd come. But something to the left was going to aid her in her eventual trek back to whatever had initially captivated her attention enough to leap out of a speeding air vehicle in a make-shift glider. [Flying like this is a new experience,] she thought as she glided down toward the ground. A tearing noise caught her ear then. [Or at least falling with style. Better ditch this thing and carry on on foot.] Moonstone managed to coax the makeshift hang-glider over the trees into an open clearing, Updrafts from the hot ground helped slow her descent. An experienced glider in her dragon form, the hot, open ground would have been ideal, but her craft wasn't going to last long enough to use the rising currents to give her height. What it did do was slow her falling before finally giving out a few yards above the ground. Rolling as she hit the dirt, Moonstone found herself seated ungracefully in the dirt on a hilltop overlooking a valley full of scrap. [Scrap from the Rebels... scrap from the Empire...] Moonstone thought, noting discarded refuse from both sides gathered here. [This couldn't have all just been left here, someone's been collecting this stuff from both sides.] A high-pitched shriek from behind her made her whirl around, lightsaber igniting as she moved. A figure not much taller than her, in dark brown robes was holding some sort of rifle threateningly and growling. Moonstone lowered the blade, but kept it at the ready. "Jawas. Expecting you here, I was not." She frowned, [I wasn't even trying to do Yoda.] "This is all yours?" she continued, nodding her head at the scrap piles. The jawa looked wary, but nodded. Moonstone nodded, "Good, what's for sale?" The magic words, as it were. The jawa chattered excitedly, gesturing for Moonstone to follow. She extinguished her blade and followed along. She didn't have a clue as to what she was looking for, but then, wasn't that how many shopping trips went? The jawa, or actually one of many now emerging from the impromptu scrap yard's piles of junk, ushered her to a clear patch and activated some droids. Bidding them to line up for a client's inspection, she guessed, they formed ranks in front of her. One protocol droid promptly fell over and several jawas rushed over and scurried off with it while the one she had initially met tried to distract her from the event. Moonstone looked the droids over. "Difficult ground I have to cover," [Dammit, did it again.] "Fast a droid must be to keep up." [Argh. And none of these are what brought me here. Still, I hate the way they treat droids in these movies.] "All you have, this is?" The jawas nodded, gesturing at the models. Moonstone sighed, rubbing her chin. She didn't bring a lot to spend, she hadn't been expecting a shopping trip, as it were. But she did have some funds with her. Normally, though she'd visit an antique coin collector or something first, but there wasn't time for that, she'd have to simply let the jawas judge the worth for themselves. Of course, come to think of it, this was the wrong universe anyway. The raw materials would be all these were judged on, which dropped their value considerably. Digging in her cloak, she pulled out a few gold doubloons. The jawa groaned and threw his hands up, walking over to an orange striped droid and gesturing it forward. Just as she'd seen in the original movie, it got a few feet, then something blew and it shut down and fell over. "Bad motivator, this one has." [Grr. Take your time speaking, put the words in the right order.] "What - are - you - trying - to - pull?" The jawas hastened to cart off the dead droid, as Moonstone repocketed the gold. The jawa she met first patted her on the shoulder reassuringly, but seemed to be saying that for what she had to spend, they didn't have anything else for sale. This was confirmed as the other droids were ushered away. "What parts have you?" Moonstone asked suddenly, [Oh I give up,] "Look around I can? Pay less I will, but take as-is what I find?" The jawas conferred for a few moments in a huddle. Finally her salesman broke away and nodded, gesturing for her to have a look around. The rest of the jawas scurried around the yard, picking up some pieces and returning them to a central pile. "Cost more, that pile will?" Moonstone asked with a chuckle. The "sales" jawa seemed to laugh and nod, probably trying to explain it away. Moonstone nodded and turned, looking through the scrap and trying to pin down that feeling to a certain item or items. Rather quickly she found a few pieces amidst the junk that seemed to be speaking to her. The head of a protocol droid, a black box with a few leads that she felt should be hooked to the head, a small bit that seemed to belong to something else, a head from one of the newer movies' beige soldier droids, and some other bits and pieces which she couldn't identify. Gathering these together, she found her sales jawa nearby. "The whole load, four gold I will give you for." The jawa shook his head, taking away one of the parts that she couldn't identify, but which seemed important. He pushed the rest at her, reaching for the gold. Moonstone shook her head, pushing the whole load away, "Four or nothing." The jawa chattered away, seemingly saying that the bit he was holding was alone worth several of the pieces she had. "Okay, five gold." The jawa shook his head. "Six, but my last offer that is." The jawa scowled, growling quietly in thought. "Seven, but I want to use your equipment to put this together." The jawa seemed to brighten at that offer, putting the bit in its hand back into the pile. Moonstone gave him six gold, holding out the seventh, but not handing it over. "When completed this is, agreed?" The jawa wavered a bit but gave in, gesturing toward a spot that she had thought was just more scrap. Instead it was something of an outdoor workshop. Moonstone laid out the pieces and reached for a tool at random. What she got, when she flipped it the right way around, was something akin to a soldering pencil. She set to work with that, starting with the protocol droid head and black box. Then she did the same for the other droid's head. The results were not attractive, but they seemed to be what she had felt she needed here. The protocol droid was simply attached to a black box, which she hung around her neck on a strap. The other looked like nothing so much as a dustbuster with three antennae sticking out beneath it. She'd had to fuss around inside the dustbuster's head to remove something and install something else, the piece she'd removed went into the protocol droid head. After that came the moment of truth in any building project, turning the robots on. The protocol droid burbled into life, revealing a female voice. "Oh! Oh my! I can't feel my body!" "A body I did not see for you. Deactivated you were, in this scrap heap you see." "Oh!" she said, "Oh, well, then I am most grateful, miss. A droid often does not get a second chance after being deactivated. I am C... C... Oh dear, I can't recall my designation. I must have a burnt out memory cell." "Then call you 'Ceecee' we will." "Yes, Miss, 'Ceecee' will be fine, thank you." "Now," Moonstone added, reaching over to activate the dustbuster, "Activate your new friend we will." The dustbuster seemed to humm quietly to itself, then with a sudden whine, its antennae extended under it and it lifted off the ground. "Your designation please state," Moonstone asked, crisply. "Roger roger... uhm... I don't know. I can't access the main computer." "Then Dusty we will call you," Moonstone said decisively. [Because I doubt Roger would like me calling you 'Roger.'] "And what should we call you, miss?" "Moonstone." "Then, Miss Moonstone, I don't mean to alarm you, but there are several beings nearby observing us." "Jawas, those are." "Yes, Miss, but--" "Jawas are allies?" Dusty grated out in his electronic voice. "Yes. Well, neutral they are. Gathered this junkyard they did." [This Yoda thing is starting to really get on my nerves.] "Then what're they?" Dusty said, swiveling in midair to point his nose at something else. Moonstone whirled, as Ceecee exclaimed, "That's what I was trying to tell you!" A horn blew and there was a loud gargle-shriek from the hillside. Charging down toward the jawa scrap yard were half a dozen Tuscan raiders riding bantha. "Battle Stations!" Dusty grated. "Oh my!" Ceecee cried. A bullet whizzed past as the sound of a shot reached Moonstone's ears. The jawas were shrieking and clutching rifles, taking cover that afforded prearranged defensive positions. Moonstone ignited her lightsaber. "We're doomed," Ceecee said forlornly. "Bet on it, I would not." The jawas opened fire, their scavanged together blaster rifles releasing greasy smoke and electricity. The sand people, the alternate name for the Tuscan raiders, fired back with their bolt-action rifles. The sand people were still advancing on the jawas when Moonstone saw her salesman activate some sort of mechanism. Around the scrapyard several piles of junk shifted, revealing droids, misshapen and half-finished, but armed with cobbled together blasters. They opened fire, the air now thick with blaster fire. Given the sudden change in odds, the sand people stopped their advance and took cover. "Did we win?" Ceecee asked hopefully. "No," Dusty grated back. "Regroup they will," Moonstone said, looking around. The jawas attention was focused on the hill the sand people had come down, and the scrap they'd taken cover behind. But some of them were also looking around in the sudden silence that came with the deactivation of the droid blasters. "Look there!" Dusty said, swivelling to point behind them. Moonstone turned as the sand people gave their war cry again, attacking from behind the droid guns. While the jawas scrambled to get to new positions and the droids were set to turn to face the new threat, Moonstone moved away and to the side of the advancing sand people. "If you don't mind, miss, I'd like to be deactivated for a while," Ceecee said quietly. Moonstone silently turned her off. "Dusty, weapons have you?" Moonstone whispered quietly. "Roger roger," was the barely perceptible electronic reply. "Behind we will slip, pin them in crossfire, we will." "Roger roger." Moonstone and Dusty moved through the heaps of junk, keeping a wary watch for sand people. The jawas were managing to keep them at bay, the droids slowly swiveling to face the positions the Tuscan raiders had taken as cover. The raiders were disorganized, but nearly mindless in their aggression. The jawas were used to fighting, but the scrap heap had been arranged more for efficiency of sorting through their materials to see what could be salvaged, not to be a fortress against the sand people. Still, experience had taught them to be ready to defend their treasure trove, and to be away from the formidably armored sandcrawlers they usually called home meant they needed to be more ready than usual. So it wasn't entirely surprising to discover the jawas had been holding their own against their formidable opponents. Moonstone was just beginning to wonder if the jawas needed help at all when Dusty called a warning as one of the sand people suddenly rose over her head with a massive, bladed club. She swung with her lightsaber without thinking, slicing off the Tuscan raider's leg. It fell over, but attempted to swing at her with the crude weapon anyway. She sliced its hand off, then put her small blade through its heart. [Damn, I didn't want to do that,] she thought regretfully, then continued on her way. [Normally, that wouldn't have bothered me. This was different somehow.] She slipped up behind a sand person, but it sensed her somehow and turned to attack. She stabbed it as it tried to bring its club down on her head. Another observed this and fired at her, just missing her right ear. It charged, heedless of the droid fire around it, which struck it down unceremoniously. As she looked toward the last three, she observed two of them get into a fight of their own from behind the TIE figher panel that was serving as a shield. One shot the other with a rifle, the other staggering a bit, but managing to bury its bladed club in the rifleman's face. [Dragons! They fight like dragons! Angry, petty, vengeful, xenophobic, all the qualities that make us fierce. But why does that bother me suddenly?] She suddenly was keenly aware of the hum of the lightsaber in her hand. She imagined leaping from her vantage point and using the Force to guide her and her blade so they would cleave the Tuscan raider in two. She'd have eaten the sand people had she been a dragon. Had she come here as a dragon, she would have been in a blind rage. Like the one she felt before when the Darkness Device of the Tolkein world twisted her mind to be more angry, more vengeful. [More dark. As in 'dark side,'] she thought, the epiphany striking her and giving her chills, [What was it Yoda'd tell Luke? The dark side is quicker, easier. But not stronger. [There's one sand person left. He's outgunned, but in his urge to attack the jawas, he isn't keeping track of his allies.] Moonstone muttered an incantation, a spell that let her send an overpowering thought to the target, the sand person still crouched and waiting to attack. ^Look around you! Your allies are dead! Retreat!^ The Tuscan raider seemed to stiffen and look around sharply, fearfully. He let out a gargle-shriek that seemed like an alarmed calling for his friends to assure him they were still alive. But only silence greeted him and he scampered off through the scrap. "Let him go!" Moonstone called out to the jawas, "The last he is. Escape have you?" The cheering jawas pointed toward a rust-brown hulking monstrosity in the distance that was slowly trundling across the landscape towards them. "Good. Back with others, he may come." Moonstone extinguished her lightsaber, reactivating Ceecee and gesturing for Dusty to follow her. "Come, a ways we must yet go." "Roger roger, commander." Moonstone arched a brow at this, but Ceecee interjected. "Miss, how wonderful to hear your voice! But, where are we going? And won't more of those things come after us?" "No, I think, if here we stay not. Into the jungle go we." "Is it safer in the jungle, Miss?" "Doubtful. Dusty, careful watch you must keep." "Roger roger, commander." "Commander I am not, Dusty." "Roger roger, commander." Moonstone sighed. "Is something wrong, Miss?" "A headache, I foresee you two to be." "Oh, we will endeaver to be as little problem as possible, miss. I'm sure my counterpart here agrees fully." "Roger roger, commander." "Nevermind," Moonstone said, "Move on, let us." The jungle was pretty much like any other she'd seen in films, plants, trees, strange noises she couldn't identify. Very hot, very humid, unlike her theatrical experiences, and she was truly missing air conditioning. Though, unlike before when she saw these sorts of places, and unlike her time in the theater, the air seemed to be full of things that smelled good. There was no smell of fake butter, which struck her nose like canine excrement. Instead, there were fragrant flowers, the smell of wet earth, and Moonstone found herself extremely hungry as she caught another whiff of fruit from the base of a tree it had fallen from. "Stop a moment, I must, to rest and eat," Moonstone said. She immediately shifted Ceecee so she was facing to watch behind her, told Dusty to keep watch and let her know if something approached, and then began rooting around in the underbrush for things to eat. Moonstone had just gathered a small sackful of things she couldn't identify, but that at least felt safe and smelled potentially good, when Dusty alerted her. "Intruder, commander." Dusty faced a creature she wasn't expecting to run into here. Moonstone was looking at a gungan. "Halt. Yousa poaching on gungan property." Moonstone held up the sack, "Fruits, nuts, plants and roots, these are. Unaware I was this was yours. Hungry I was, but take food from others, I will not." "Hmm," the gungan said, "Yousa give me the sack, meesa forgive this trespass." "Agree I do," Moonstone said, stepping forward and handing over the bag. "Come," the gungan said, after a moment's thought, "Meesa mate, sheesa keel me if'n I don'ta bring yousa home for someting to munchin. Thata fix you up, ana no takin froma gungans." "In your debt, I would be." "Follow me, then. Ima called 'Doba.' Meesa mate, shesa Rooie. Sheesa good cook, too. Weesa don' get guests, sosa disa gonna be raw foods, little scuttly thingsa froma da mud atta bottom of the pond." "Raw shellfish?" Moonstone said, and had the queerest reaction. She loved shellfish intellectually, but her body told her 'no' most decisively, the idea made her feel terribly ill. "Raw fruits and nuts would suffice. Allergic I am to shellfish." "Oh, that'sa too bad. Well, Rooie gotta lotts good stuff for the munchin ana crunchin, weesa get you somethin' no makea you sick." "Appreciate that, I would." Gungans had always annoyed Moonstone, but sitting across the table from a pair of very hospitable ones, Moonstone considered that she may have given them too little credit. Rooie had turned out to be a delight, good humored and easy-going, despite having an extra mouth to feed unexpectedly. Doba plied her with questions about what she was doing out here, so she explained the situation as best she could, about fighting the Empire and following a hunch that there was someone helpful out here that she had to find. "So, yousa gonna finda dis mystery thing ana get back to da rebels?" Moonstone nodded, wiping her mouth. She wasn't sure what she'd eaten, she'd never paid that much attention to the produce aisles in her local stores. The meat counter she could see just by closing her eyes. Unfortunately, none of it looked appealing currently. "Go soon, I must, though. Time is critical, I feel." Rooie looked at Doba. "Uh oh, meesa know that look. Itsa gonna cost me money," Doba moaned. "Doba, look at her. Sheesa tiny, sheesa needsa go a long way." "Yousa wanna give her a kaadu? Yousa say youself sheesa tiny. Howsa she gonna ride it?" "Kaadu?" Moonstone asked. "Weesa raise 'em for Gungan Grand Army. Theysa quick, sure-footed, well-behaved. Oursa kaadu pride o'da Grand Army. Every warrior want onna our kaadu," Rooie explained, with some pride, placing a hand on her mete's arm. "An sheesa wanna give yousa one. Very expensive, theesa are," Doba said. "A young one, Doba. Wadda bout da runty one? Issa quick and bright, butta probly no grow to bea big one for great warrior. Itsa fit her better. Yousa use 'im teacha da little onesa ride." Rooie and Doba had kids who they were teaching the family business. The kids were off playing with a neighbor's children, though. "Theysa already good enoughta handle da big ones," Doba admitted. "Okie-day, Moonstone, yousa know how to ride?" "A quick learner, I am," Moonstone said, delighted. She had a good feeling about this. She'd dubbed the kaadu 'Lucky,' and with good reason. Rooie had told her privately Doba had been concerned about animals in the jungle killing the little kaadu. Most kaadu were roughly two and a half meters tall at adulthood. Two-legged, flightless avians, they looked like a cross between a duck and a horse. But Lucky, already in his late adolescence, wasn't even two meters yet. Doba confided that he and Rooie had lost one of their children to an Imperial patrol. He loved fruit and nuts more than anything, and he thought Rooie was reminded of him while talking to Moonstone. "Meesa gonna talk to da Bosses, if'n Gungan Grand Army joina da Rebels, maybe weesa get ridda da Empire. Gungans lose lotsa people to dose guys. Weesa haffa hide for a long time. Da Bosses, dey may no wanna come outta hiding. No promises meesa can make." "Any help you can give, appreciated it will be," Moonstone said. They shook hands and Moonstone gave Lucky the nudge to go that Doba had shown her. With Dusty following behind and Ceecee around her neck, she guided the small kaadu in the direction her feelings told her. Rooie was right. Moonstone was making better time than she expected. Soon she felt she was coming to the place her feelings were guiding her towards. Although the spear that sailed past her head made her wonder if 'helpful' was the right word to use. They'd been getting deeper into the forest for some time now, and Moonstone was feeling anxious, like she was closing in on her quarry. Dusty and Ceecee had been relatively quiet, the latter finally asking to shut down for a while. Moonstone's lightsaber had been ignited as soon as the spear had struck the tree beyond her. Dusty swiveled to face the direction the attacker had come from. "Orders, commander?" "The area search around us," Moonstone said, feeling extremely conspicuous at her vantage point of almost two and a half meters off the ground straddling a giant duck-horse and holding a lightsaber. Reactivating Ceecee, Moonstone said quietly, "The area reached, I think we have. Strong here the feeling is, but attacked we just were. Negotiating we may need you for." "Oh my. Of course, miss. I do hope they are open to negotiations." Looking over at the crude weapon, she guided Lucky toward the tree so she could retrieve it. Stone-tipped, with leather lashing it to a straight stick, it was crude, but effective. And at only four feet in length, she suspected she knew who she was here to see. Drawing the spear from the tree, she held it over her head, along with the lightsaber. The latter she extinguished, and made a show of putting it back on her belt. The former she let drop from her hand to land on the ground. Not point-down, as if in a challenge, but on its side, as if in concession. "Mean you no harm, I do!" Moonstone called, "Speak with you, I would like." A growling voice came from the brush. Moonstone didn't understand it, but Ceecee demonstrated she did. "It is a peculiar dialect, miss, but I believe I understand it. I will repeat what you just said. Hopefully, it will understand." Ceecee did so, and translated the reply from the brush. "He says you're small for the skull heads." Moonstone blinked, "A stormtrooper he thinks I am?" Ceecee said, "As I gather, miss, you are dressed in white, except for the robe. He seems to associate that with stormtroopers." Moonstone nodded. "Tell him with them I am not." Ceecee did so. Something hard collided with Moonstone's skull and she found herself sprawled in the dirt, a dozen ewoks around her, spears at the ready. Ceecee exclaimed, "Oh dear!" Dusty was above her, shouting "Halt or I'll shoot!" Moonstone said, "Dusty, stand down. Ceecee, what I ordered, tell them." Ceecee did so and the ewoks growled. "They don't seem to find Dusty threatening." Moonstone picked up a small twig, holding up a hand to try and tell the ewoks she wasn't moving to attack. "Dusty, this stick." "Roger roger." "Ceecee, tell them demonstrate I will what Dusty does." She did, and the ewoks growled back. "They say not to try anything foolish." The ewoks backed away, spears and slings at the ready. Moonstone threw the stick in the air. "Fire," she said. Dusty did so, the little, flying robot's 'eyes' blasting the stick several times before it hit the ground in several flaming pieces. Moonstone scooped up some soil to smother the flames. The ewoks were stunned a moment, then one started talking excitedly. "Miss, he says the noise will attract stormtroopers." "Stormtroopers nearby there are?" The ewok, after Ceecee's translation, nodded saying something else. "Oh my, he says there are large numbers of them moving through this part of the forest." The ewok pointed, saying more. "He says they have been intruding on their hunting grounds, they have been having a hard time feeding their villages. They shoot the animals and don't eat them, and have even shot at the scouts who got too close. They get away, but sometimes only to die in the village." Moonstone nodded, "Tell him friends I have. Want to stop them, we do. Rid their lands of them, we could help. Talk to chieftains, they should. Return I will to hear their answer." The ewok scratched his chin, then came forward and tossed Moonstone a bone whistle, explaining something to Ceecee and pointing. "He says he will do as you ask. And you should go to the valley where he is pointing and blow two long notes and two short notes with the whistle. He'll come find you and tell you what they said." "Agree I do." The ewoks turned to look in the direction Moonstone had just heard something from. They scattered into the underbrush and she leapt onto Lucky's back. "A small group of troopers, I suspect, the noise to investigate. Dusty, rear guard you have, avoid firing if possible to escape unnoticed it is." "Where are we going, miss?" Ceecee asked. "Imperials the rebel base are headed for. Warn them we must." Moonstone spurred Lucky into his fastest run and headed for the rebel base, her kaadu leaping over obstacles as surely as any horse. -- Moonstone "I've got a feeling, it could be bunnies..." =========================== Subject: AAE9s: Revenge of the Sith Part the First On Thu, 28 Jul 2005 01:47:43 -0500 Dr. Energy Said As CAoL Message # 00012616 >Earlier... >>On Thu, 26 May 2005 03:47:49 -0500 >>Dr. Energy Said As CAoL Message # 00012559 >> >>> Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00012554 > >>"Oh, and friend Roland, that was a most electrifying experience," >>she quipped with a impish grin. > > "Definitely a Callahanian," Roland groans appreciatively (a >unique Callahanian trick in itself 8^). > >Morgan bites back several incredibly inappropriate rejoinders. ;-) Ana bows graciously, "My uncle told me about that hallowed place, though I have yet to visit there. Perhaps when all this is over we shall toast our victory there." She says somewhat bemusedly. > >>With an effortless heave she smashes the pole into the front of the >>garbage truck, bending it around the cab. >> >>"This is what I will do to you when I find you, Volkov. And I *will* >>find you," she mutters as she dusts herself off. With a gesture, she >>levitates the drones up and her back panel opens. The drones float >>back in and disappear into a pocket of sub-space storage. She checks >>to make sure that the four sabers are secured to her belt, and walks >>back to the main camp to join the others. > > She doesn't get far before she sees Ani appear almost magically >out of a shadow. "That's impressive," he says. "I'd love to see >Grievous' face if he ever runs into you." Ana bows to Ani, looking in his eyes as she does so. "I would like to see that too.. No doubt he would probably wheeze a bit heavier than normal." She says in a tone slightly drier than Tattooine. "That's the problem with Evil...Just a bad design all around." > Ani considers the Platinum Princess for another moment. "You want >to save your uncle. I understand that. But you're drawing on the >Force now, and the Dark Side...doesn't play fair. As my Master would >say, 'be mindful of your emotions.' I think it's fair to say I know >the price of underestimating it better than most." The Platinum Princess nods gravely, "You are correct, of course. Your master sounds like a certain teacher of mine who taught me when I was younger. It was my understanding that the Force is a living thing. If that's true, it has similarities to the Ether. I am reminded of a Science lesson my uncle taught me.... "...so you see, Ana, the properties of the lighter and brighter forms of Ether are quite spectacular. However, all the marvelous things I have shown and will show you pale in comparison to the unknowable Ether." Romanov said as he prepared the next part of the lesson. Ana could only marvel at the brightly burning clouds of Ether floated in the giant glass bell jar on the table. One cloud was blue/white with arcs of electricity while the other was a burning fiery red/orange with multi-colored sparks. Romanov placed two more jars carefully on the table. Both were black as pitch, but the right-most jar was black with sickly purple and green, while the other was just pitch black with no light reflection. "Now these specimens," Romanov continued, "are dark Ether. Doc Eon told me of two places when I asked him where I could find Dark Ether. This jar," he said indicating the pitch black jar, "is gathered from the place where Darkness dwells, a hole so vast and deep that you couldn't get to the bottom...ever. I tried, but my jet pack fuel ran out, so I scaled the walls partway up with my All-Terrain Boots. While walking up the wall of the Bottomless Pit, I saw a strange black slime that did something very interesting. Observe..." he said with a flourish as he grabbed the top of the jar with both hands and lifted. The blackness remained in the jar, even though it filled it. He turned the jar opening to Ana and she took a pointer and swirled it around inside the viscous fluid. There was a strange slurping sound as the ooze moved around but never once entered the lit-up room. He placed the jar back down. "Why didn't it move out of the jar when you removed it?" asked Ana "Because the slime is an living thing that cannot stand the light. Pure sunlight scorches it, and makes blackened lumps that look like coals from a stove. Look at the base of the jar." He said. Ana studied the base of the jar, and her eyes lit up like at Christmas time. "There are sparkly bits near the base. Are those parts of the slime?" Romanov nodded, "Yes they are. It was fast but not fast enough to get away. On my way down the hole, I saw strange crystal formations that generated the Ethereal signal Eon told me of It was then that I realized that the slime was what the crystals started out as before they were exposed to the more natural light of the cave." "What of this strange jar here, Uncle?" "Well, that is something else. The second place that Eon told me of was a spot in what used to be the well to do section of Knoxville, Tennessee in what the locals called ' the Ft. Sanders area' which is a series of old houses near the University of Tennessee. This fluid was found in a well in a vacant lot. The local branch of the Society told me that the house just burned up as they were beginning to investigate a series of high-society disappearances in North Carolina, Chattanooga and Knoxville. There were no bodies found and the wreckage was still in the lot when I discovered the well." Upon hearing this, Ana became fearful. Her own experiences with death were still raw though not as painful as the first years in the monastery after the death of her parents and Alexi. What alarmed her even more was how the purple and black thing in the second jar seemed to glow as her fears surfaced. Little tendrils snaked around the jar trying to find a way out, to no avail." Romanov considered his beloved charge for a moment, and then said, "From what I can tell, it feeds off of emotions. The darker, the better and the more powerful it becomes. Fortunately for myself and my assistant, a cocktail approved by Molotov himself was enough to kill it after I got a sample. Lucky for us I have sealed the jar." " So what's it made of?" she asked when she had calmed down and the thing stopped moving. " From what I can tell, this stuff is the end result of all darker emotions. A Professor colleague of mine who worked at the university said that his data removed several different tones of harmonic frequencies consistent with different darker emotional states such as anger, fear, hatred and suffering. From there, the police got involved and pulled several bodies from the well, which were later identified as the missing debutantes." After a moment, he said, " Be mindful of your emotions, my dear. In places where these variants are in their highest concentrations, positive and negative emotions can affect what it does. The Dark Ether can be used, but must be used sparingly and in the right conditions to be 100% effective. For example, I mixed the Dark Ooze and the Electric Blue Ether to make the Storage Core for my latest invention..." ----- "...and that's what my Uncle taught me. After my studies, I accompanied my uncle on many of his adventures up to the point where I fell ill and lapsed into a coma." She added with a touch of grey grimness to the glitter. " Before we rejoin the others, could you give me a few pointers on my technique? I studied all the archives, but there are some things that movies and books can't teach," she said grinning an impish grin, "about the forms of Jedi Martial Arts and Lightsaber combat, that is." TBC ===========================