Post by Hunter on Jul 20, 2004 0:07:54 GMT -5
This will probably bore most of you to tears, and I'm sorry 'bout that, but I had this running in my skull for some time now and I starting putting it paper a long time ago. Mostly just laying it out late in the afternoon, a little before quitting time and such...I just hope it all makes sense...
_____________________________________________
The thunder from the quickly moving storm echoed throughout the deep valley, nearly collapsing my campsite. My droid, Goodwrench, completely unfamiliar anything besides the non-existent weather of Tatooine, began a series of motions that could only be described as a panic-attack.
“Goodwrench!” I shouted over the increasing volume of the wind. “Shut down and store. I’ll need to be moving to make the Outpost before this hits, and you aren’t build for speed.”<br>
With all the noise, I assume the chirping I heard was my ‘bots reply, and within seconds, I stood alone finalizing my packing. This bloody storm ruined a perfectly good series sample, but I’m here to get plenty more, and a much better quality ones…<br>
But, by the Emperors Eyes, I hate Dathomir.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
“You are clear, citizen.” Announced the muffled voice box of the Stormtrooper. “Move along.”<br>
The Imperial Outpost on Dathomir is probably the safest place to be here, but that analogy is much like saying the back hoofs of a Bantha hurt much less than the front ones. It is probably more appropriate to say if there is a place where you’re least likely to get your head bitten off and spit 500 meters away on this orbiting death trap, this outpost is it and this is likely the only place in the stars where even the rebels welcome the presence of the Emperor’s finest and all the hardware they bring.
I got friends here though…and catching up always makes a trip like this a little more worthwhile.
Byran Lestantic is, like many, probably here because most anywhere else he wouldn’t be a free man. He and I got a rather messy bit of history together, and considering it’s been five years since we “parted”, I figure it’s about time…<br>
Byran runs what is possibly the safest drinking spot in the stars mainly due to the majority of his clientele being the local Imperial Officers and visiting dignitaries. Those wanting to celebrate a little too loud and a little to raucous are usually given two choices: Hop a flyer to the Mining Outpost (A place where a good gun or blade is the only way to get through a restful night.) or plan on sleeping in the famous “Dathomir Imperial Arms” for a much longer stay than you’d like (With some of the best security a person could ever imagine.)
_____________________________________________
Time has changed me in many ways, most of which are not of my express selection, and I can see the same has happened to him. He was always more than a few years older than me, and time could have been a good deal friendlier to him, but as most of my memories recall, he still looked like he was having fun. Byran was almost always smiling about something…<br>
Once, in what seems a very long time ago, we two were once part of the galactic “elite”-Senatorial Aides Wyldden Highguarde and Methian Telluman. Being the senior advisors to Senator Gerrious during a time when gun-running, smuggling, and rebellion where considered child’s-play when compared to the high-stakes life of politics. The two of us were both very good at what we did and had the stars stayed right, there were few places we couldn’t have gone. Everything was right, except for the small issue of Gerrious having decided that the adventure of leading a double life was something his aides shouldn’t know about.
The Empire doesn’t like much, and it really doesn’t like the Rebellion, and it really just hates when some blow-hard politician decides that the Rebel’s are just too much more fun than it is! When Methain and I were informed that our employer was a traitor, and we were told that our turning on him was about the only thing that would keep us breathing, we decided that turning stag wasn’t too bad. Besides, he was a traitor…he was going to get what he deserved.
After the sting and his capture, Garrious made his “appreciation” obvious to Byran and me quickly. Within a few days of his capture, Methian was in the med-center with a high-energy rifle shot to the leg and I was nearly taken down by a disguised Bothan leaving my home. Thankfully, in an effort to ferret out the Senators other contacts, the Imperials kept eyes on us and our attackers both ended up very dead shortly after the attempts on us were made.
Not too long after Methian left the med-center, the Imperials made good on the promise of our cooperation by having us "killed" in a very public way. With a much publicized (and very explosive!) raid on a suspected rogue Cor-Sec base, the last two traitorous compatriots of the traitor Garrious. Wyldden Highguarde and Methain Telluman were dead…and Netavarious Pyremeus and Byran Lestantic were “born”. We were given a very basic and very boring past to live up to, a few credits, a new set of I.D. and tickets on a starship.
I decided, with the most of my life in front of me, that the best place for me was to get “lost” somewhere, so I headed to remote Tatooine to become a hermit and a scout. I always enjoyed the image of me being a much "tougher" figure than I had been, so I figured why not give it a shot. Byran decided that the whole adventure that we’d just left was all the excitement he wanted, so he was going to go settle someplace and become something simple. He never told me where he was going, and it would be a couple of years before I found out he’d taken over a small bar on Dathomir.
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(To be continued…)
_____________________________________________
The thunder from the quickly moving storm echoed throughout the deep valley, nearly collapsing my campsite. My droid, Goodwrench, completely unfamiliar anything besides the non-existent weather of Tatooine, began a series of motions that could only be described as a panic-attack.
“Goodwrench!” I shouted over the increasing volume of the wind. “Shut down and store. I’ll need to be moving to make the Outpost before this hits, and you aren’t build for speed.”<br>
With all the noise, I assume the chirping I heard was my ‘bots reply, and within seconds, I stood alone finalizing my packing. This bloody storm ruined a perfectly good series sample, but I’m here to get plenty more, and a much better quality ones…<br>
But, by the Emperors Eyes, I hate Dathomir.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
“You are clear, citizen.” Announced the muffled voice box of the Stormtrooper. “Move along.”<br>
The Imperial Outpost on Dathomir is probably the safest place to be here, but that analogy is much like saying the back hoofs of a Bantha hurt much less than the front ones. It is probably more appropriate to say if there is a place where you’re least likely to get your head bitten off and spit 500 meters away on this orbiting death trap, this outpost is it and this is likely the only place in the stars where even the rebels welcome the presence of the Emperor’s finest and all the hardware they bring.
I got friends here though…and catching up always makes a trip like this a little more worthwhile.
Byran Lestantic is, like many, probably here because most anywhere else he wouldn’t be a free man. He and I got a rather messy bit of history together, and considering it’s been five years since we “parted”, I figure it’s about time…<br>
Byran runs what is possibly the safest drinking spot in the stars mainly due to the majority of his clientele being the local Imperial Officers and visiting dignitaries. Those wanting to celebrate a little too loud and a little to raucous are usually given two choices: Hop a flyer to the Mining Outpost (A place where a good gun or blade is the only way to get through a restful night.) or plan on sleeping in the famous “Dathomir Imperial Arms” for a much longer stay than you’d like (With some of the best security a person could ever imagine.)
_____________________________________________
Time has changed me in many ways, most of which are not of my express selection, and I can see the same has happened to him. He was always more than a few years older than me, and time could have been a good deal friendlier to him, but as most of my memories recall, he still looked like he was having fun. Byran was almost always smiling about something…<br>
Once, in what seems a very long time ago, we two were once part of the galactic “elite”-Senatorial Aides Wyldden Highguarde and Methian Telluman. Being the senior advisors to Senator Gerrious during a time when gun-running, smuggling, and rebellion where considered child’s-play when compared to the high-stakes life of politics. The two of us were both very good at what we did and had the stars stayed right, there were few places we couldn’t have gone. Everything was right, except for the small issue of Gerrious having decided that the adventure of leading a double life was something his aides shouldn’t know about.
The Empire doesn’t like much, and it really doesn’t like the Rebellion, and it really just hates when some blow-hard politician decides that the Rebel’s are just too much more fun than it is! When Methain and I were informed that our employer was a traitor, and we were told that our turning on him was about the only thing that would keep us breathing, we decided that turning stag wasn’t too bad. Besides, he was a traitor…he was going to get what he deserved.
After the sting and his capture, Garrious made his “appreciation” obvious to Byran and me quickly. Within a few days of his capture, Methian was in the med-center with a high-energy rifle shot to the leg and I was nearly taken down by a disguised Bothan leaving my home. Thankfully, in an effort to ferret out the Senators other contacts, the Imperials kept eyes on us and our attackers both ended up very dead shortly after the attempts on us were made.
Not too long after Methian left the med-center, the Imperials made good on the promise of our cooperation by having us "killed" in a very public way. With a much publicized (and very explosive!) raid on a suspected rogue Cor-Sec base, the last two traitorous compatriots of the traitor Garrious. Wyldden Highguarde and Methain Telluman were dead…and Netavarious Pyremeus and Byran Lestantic were “born”. We were given a very basic and very boring past to live up to, a few credits, a new set of I.D. and tickets on a starship.
I decided, with the most of my life in front of me, that the best place for me was to get “lost” somewhere, so I headed to remote Tatooine to become a hermit and a scout. I always enjoyed the image of me being a much "tougher" figure than I had been, so I figured why not give it a shot. Byran decided that the whole adventure that we’d just left was all the excitement he wanted, so he was going to go settle someplace and become something simple. He never told me where he was going, and it would be a couple of years before I found out he’d taken over a small bar on Dathomir.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
(To be continued…)