Just to test the waters, this is my poke at SWTOR.
This time, I am doing something completely new to me, tearing down established facts, only retaining the nouns, and creating my own backstory to things on the go, in a oneshot. Usually, when I go AU, I still base things off of some prior events, and I have more time and words to devote to world-building, this time, I am fixing a few plotholes WHILE pushing a humourous agenda..I hope it turns out well!
Yub-Yub Major!
It was funny how things changed over time, especially in war. Carrick Station, one-time secret supply depot for the First and Third Expeditionary Fleets, the Eighth Bulwark Flotilla and the Sixth Home Defence Wing, was now, in all intents and purposes, a Shadowport.
Oteg still hung about with the First Expeditionary, and decks five through seventeen were restricted to official Republic personnel, but all other areas were open to the public, and, although under government oversight, quickly assumed the look and feel of Nar Shaddaa…albeit with less back alley blunders.
The subdecks, running, as their name implied, below the station's equator housed massive repair facilities, fly-through cleaning, loading docks, storage bays, and all manner of related utilities. Above that, the vast muster bays for the speedy embarking of troops onto shuttles had been converted into the spaceport proper, with marked lots and partitioned bays both offered.
Directly above that stretched the sprawl of civilian accommodation, shopping plazas, gambling dens, fitness centres and cantinas. It was, predictably, to the largest of these that the Voidhound strolled.
Voidhound. He still snorted at the pretentious twattle of a title. It was a long-standing galactic tradition that only moustached villains resorted to such symbols of rank. While Qyrryl did sport a prominent spacer's 'stache, he was also as close as the fringe got to honest citizens.
Though the Empire considered the Great Galactic War as a conflict solely between it and the Republic, the latter's combatants instead termed it the Republic War, as though the Sith were a consistent threat, they were by far not the only – or most deadly – one.
Having fought on battlefields from the core to the outer reaches of Tion alongside Havoc Battalion – erroneously dubbed "squad" by the HoloNet, despite numbering 684 combatants and half that support staff – and the Jedi Vanguard, Qyrryl and his smuggling enterprise had earned themselves a solid place on the board of Galactic heroes, taking the fight to Dromund Kaas, Oricon and Prakith.
That was history though. Fortunately for the Galaxy, no threats on par with the Dread Masters had yet emerged, and thus the crew had drifted apart on individual campaigns. The Bicentennial Eagle had just reached a civilized port after a jaunt in the Unknown Regions, which left the Chiss Ascendancy seeing red, the Killiks seeing blaster bolts, and the Vagaari burning hard for their home system.
The turbolift car deposited Qyrryl on the second floor of the Coreward Cavalry, the least-seedy cantina around. In search for a table, Qyrryl's gaze fell upon a balcony overlooking the main floor, and, in particularly, the four people seated at it.
Major Mikhayl Viktorovich Pechkin was a grizzled veteran of, now, two wars, having served as a corporal during the retaking of Alderaan from before the Treaty. Their paths had crossed on Ord Mantell, where the Bicentennial Eagle was airlifting wounded to the orbital medstation. Rather, they had crossed after a bout of trench warfare, after the separatists had gotten their AAA to work.
Meetry Rider was Jedi Councillor of great renown, though with a preference to operate from the fringe and the shadows in the execution of her duty, that of safeguarding her Order from the threats posed by the Dark Side.
While her colleagues, Lieutenant General Niq Pechkin and Master Alexey Laptin had lead armies and strike teams against Imperial Superweapon projects, and, ultimately, the final battles on Corellia and Dromund Kaas in more-or-less open warefare, she had hunted down and slain well over half of the Emperor's children and hands spread through the Galaxy.
Having met her through their mutual friend, Nariel, Qyrryl often found himself flying escort for Meetry, and, inevitably, getting dragged along on nefarious Jedi business, which, all too often, ended in a 'shoot em up' and 'cut 'em down'.
Despite their differing departments, all five had gotten well acquainted over the four years of the Republic War, and had become close friends, as people under fire often did.
"Major! How was the Anoat-Bozhnee campaign?" Qyrryl asked, as soon as he was sure he would be heard over the cantina's din.
"According to intel, a sight better than yours." was the snorted response. "For someone who ferried Meet around for over half a standard year, you have a surprisingly poor grasp of diplomacy."
Meetry lifted her hands in surrender, "I was engaged in Aggressive Negotiations with the Prakith Reach, don't look at me!"
The group chuckled. Room was quickly made, and a fifth chair was brought over courtesy of the Force. Drinks were ordered, exploits exchanged, and memories of the olden days revisited.
At some point down the line, Qyrryl asked of the company, "How goes the Endor Project?" for he had just departed for the Unknown Region when it was first announced, and thus missed out on the first wave of trails.
The others shuddered. Alexey was the first one to get the courage to speak up. "Annoying. Really, REALLY annoying." A chorus of ayes quickly followed. "My Cargo hold is strewn with beehives, spears and berries, as Treek seems to fling them willy-nilly and never bothers to retrieve any of it. Also has a genocidal-maniacal streak."
"Here here!" Mikhayl concurred. "I can't board a ship without a vac suit; it's like some kind of fetish, venting the atmosphere with her."
Meetry and Niq joined in, relating their own tales of woe. For the former, the problem lay in the ewok propensity for war cries, making stealth work all but impossible, while for the latter it was an a total disregard for collateral damage and an inability to shoot less than 120 rounds into a target.
"We had stomped a pirate band over by Lantilles," he began, "And Treek had gotten her hands on an assault cannon. Ever since, she has not let it out of her sight, even forsaking her spears in berries in favour of riddling her targets with enough blaster holes to take down a Harrower."
"While a meter-tall fuzzball lugging around a cannon twice its height and half its bulk is amusing," Qyrryl began after a hearty chuckle, "I don't quite get why you all refer to them as 'Her' and 'Treek', project name, is it?"
"No," Mikhayl set down his mug to elaborate, "And that's the funny thing, they are all females by the name of Treek, genetically identical, having one skillset, and all have the same background; they are ruthless mercenaries intimately familiar with our pasts. My one seemed to have fought on Ord Mantell, the Jedi ones were on Taris and Tython…it's just strange."
"And not only that," Meetry added, "There's also this annoying song they all love."
"So, singing clone furball mercenaries?" Qyrryl summarized, "Someone truly evil must be in charge of R&D on Coruscant."
"Actually," Niq offered, "I believe that evil person is Doctor Godera, that superweapon junky."
Before anyone could respond, most likely with indignation and dire threats of bodily harm, a commotion broke out on the cantina's main floor.
The group stood from their chairs, the better to see, and thus found themselves witness to five fuzzballs forcefully removing the Bith band from the stage. Drums and rhythm sticks were produced from thin air, and the ewok party started.
"Yub nub, eee chop yub nub;
Ah toe meet toe peechee keene,
G'noop dock fling oh ah."
Five high-pitched, out of tune voices sang along to an ear-splitting cacophony of percussion instruments. Many of the cantina's occupants looked at the show with light amusement for a time, but said amusement soon turned to headaches, faints, mass loss of lunch and other nasty happenings.
"Yahwah, eee chop yahwah;
Ah toe meet toe peechee keene,
G'noop dock fling oh ah."
Ere two minutes had passed, half the space was vacated by its normal patrons…only to be faced with a sudden influx of more singing fuzzballs!
"Coatee cha tu yub nub;
Coatee cha tu yahwah;
Coatee cha tu glowah;
Allay loo ta nuv."
Having experienced the first verse of Yub Nub, Qyrryl could now fully sympathise with his comrades. "Is there any way to shut them up?" He bellowed over the noise.
Just as Alexey was about to shake his head in a resigned negative, Meetry stood from her chair, fury blazing in her eyes. "HK!" She called to HK-51A, the head of the Assassin Droid contingent that was enjoying a recharge at the far wall of the bar.
Instantly, the chassis activated, head swivelling about and optical sensors glowing to life. "Report: Power Systems activated. Ready to serve."
"HK," Meetry repeated, in a voice of deadly fury, "Eliminate all furry meatbags."
"Gleeful statement: The Master's will must be obeyed. Assassination protocols activated; prejudice set to maximum."
Wheeling about and shouldering their assault rifles, the squad of Hunter-Killers repelled down from the balcony, acquired targets, and with a "Battlecry: Die Meatbag!" opened up on the hundreds of ewoks in the room.
Mikhayl lifted a gauntlet to his chin and barked something into it, then, turning to Qyrryl, he invited, "I've got Havoc on their way down, want to join us?"
Tossing a jaunty salute, Qyrryl unholstered his blaster and, feeling a joke was appropriate, called, "Yub Yub, Major!"
The battle was hard-fought; the ewoks had an annoying tendency to multiply unless they were thoroughly torched, and there appeared to be a cloning centre on Carrick Station itself, for waves of fuzzy combatants kept pouring through ventilation shafts, turbolifts and blast doors.
The event was called in to the relevant authority, and Master Oteg had ordered the station guaranteed and locked down, well, that part came only after the Telos had launched a shuttle with the words, "Bored I have become, too much time commanding fleets, little time on field, yes. Fun, this should be."
Niq, Mikhayl and Qyrryl had spearheaded the charge against the ewoks, dishing out lightsaber slashes, scattergun volleys and bayonet thrusts from the thick of things. Alexey had stayed up on the balcony with Havoc's snipers, using his advanced skills in telekinesis to toss the ewoks into walls, hammer them with furniture and sometimes just plain old hurl collections of volatile Force Energy at them.
The HK Droids had linked up with Havoc's riflemen, setting up behind the bar proper, and having altogether too much fun.
Meetry, after a moment of thought, decided to take a leaf out of Dread Master Raptus' book, drawing her saberstaff, holding it horizontal, and cutting a spinning swath through the hoard.
When the hoard began to thin, she re-evaluated her strategy, going on a more personalized rampage.
It was a saying from eons past that double-bladed lightsabers delivered 'more slaughter per swing', but in addition, they let a Sentinel such as herself have one hand free to manipulate the Force in combat.
The HoloNet had long theorized that a Jedi Sentinel was a person who wielded two blades, while a Shadow was one who wielded a saberstaff. In reality, a saberstaff could be used by any, just as two individual sabers were more a fighting style – Jar'kai – rather than a profession, but the reality seldom stood in the way of entertainment.
Among the Order, a Shadow was a black-ops agent who specialized in eliminating threats that originated from the Dark Side, while a Sentinel was a person who chose to balance their studies of combat with those of the Force.
Meetry Rider was both. In her hunt of the Children, Hands and Feet of the Emperor, she had discovered many esoteric skills that helped her get the upper hand in combat. One of these was pyrokinesis, which she put to great use, engulfing targets outside her saberstaff's reach in waves of fire, combusting them from inside, or bursting them apart to rain in gory bits of fur and flesh onto the cantina floor.
When all was dead and all was done, close to three thousand ewoks were exterminated across Carrick Station, the Clonmatron – a mislabel that was meant to read 'Clone-A-Ton' – was treated to a case of baradium explosives, and revenge was plotted on the scientist responsible.
Neither Republic Command, nor the Jedi Council were officially informed of the particulars of the mission to the Coruscant lab, but Doctor Nasan's body was found to be perforated with blaster wounds, charred and electrocuted.
A shame really, Master Satele expressed the desire to talk to him in person, after a brood of ewoks hatched on Tython.
By executive Order of Supreme Chancellor Leontyne Saresh, Endor was subjected to a Base Delta Zero "In the interests of protecting the Republic from an insidious menace."
The council was in full concurrence.
This is Master Gnost-Dural, signing off.
Pertinent Notes:
• Jedi Master Gnost-Dural was this time period's version of Jocasta Nu/Atris, just with a lot less arrogance, and more skill in the battlefield.
• "Yub Nub", Officially titled "Ewok Celebration" is widely considered the most painful song to hear in the known universe, despite the heavy metal monstrocities that are out there. It features extremely cheesy kids' cartoon music, and sounds like the few excerpts I have included.
• A Base Delta Zero is the universal term for planet-wide orbital bombardment.
• The in-game classifications of SWTOR are, if you'll pardon my French, total bullsith. As elaborated in the story proper, Shadows are the Jedi Order's Internal Affairs/Black Ops organization, tasked with dealing with Dark Side related things, like holocrons, taints, Dark Jedi, and that manner of stuff. Likewise, Sentinels are not a fighting style, but a profession, balancing Force Studies with Combat, whereas Gaurdians (Obi-Wan and Anakin) focus on combat, and Consulars on the healing arts, meditation, farsight, and that stuff.
• Pyrokinesis is an actual skill in the SW Universe, but is rarely mentioned or utilized. Little is known about it, but the fact that it is Force-neutral, (meaning, both Jedi and SIth can use it), very powerful, and works with fire. Not sure how, maybe the Jedi rub to sticks together with the Force very fast to cause sparks.
That about covers my notes, thanks for reading, and hope you enjoyed.
May the Force, and Fiction, and a good day be with you!
P.S. Thanks to all the kind and warm welcomes on Mistype, it made me feel so great to be back!
Clean word count: 2,104 | Published 28/10/14, 0345 GMT