Competition: The Reception

Finished
The Reception

The happy couple will be holding a ceremony on Ryloth on the Versea Estates, but that doesn't mean the Clan isn't invited. Write a fiction about the post-ceremonial shenanigans. Do you stumble around in a drunken stupor, dance your rear off, sing your heart out at the karaoke bar, or even hit on the bride? In 500 words or more, describe what occurs. Entries will be judged based on a modified fiction rubric: spelling/Grammar 10% ; Creativity 25% ; Realism 15% ;Story 30% ; and Entertainment Value 20%

This puts a greater emphasis on entertainment value and/or humor. The more creative, the better. Have fun at the party!

Competition Information
Parent Competition
A Sadowan Wedding
Organized by
Master Bentre Stahoes
Running time
2016-02-07 until 2016-02-23 (17 days)
Target Unit
Clan Naga Sadow
Competition Type
Fiction
Awards
Third Level Crescents and Clusters of Ice as per VOICE guidelines
Participants
8 subscribers, of which 4 have participated.
Results
Member
Grand Inquisitor Morax Darkblade
Submission
Grand Inquisitor Morax Darkblade opted out of publishing his submission.
Placement
1st place
2nd place
Kristeva
Member
Kristeva
Textual submission

Mactire stood in the reception hall looking at all the faces of everyone entering the building. He studied them in anticipation of the big day for two of his comrades in arms. Tasha, and Bentre. This was the day before their wedding and it couldn’t have been any better of a day. It was a simple day of peace, for once in Naga Sadows history, this day was going well. The human leaned against the wall looking up at the ceiling watching the lights flicker as people danced on the floor laughing and having fun. Atra was singing a random song and butchering it, with his usual don’t give a care attitude.

“Mac? Wow you came. Didn’t think you would.” A blue Twi’lek said appearing right in front of him.

There was a holorecorder in her hand and she was smiling as her eyes sparkled and lit up with joy at seeing all her friends together under one roof not trying to kill each other. She’s wearing a silver dress, and looks like one of the Twi’lek goddess form ancient legends.

“You look amazing Tasha. How’s Bentre doing?” I say turning my eyes and looking back into the crowd.

“He’s good. I was actually wondering if you have any words of wisdom for us in the future since I know somethings of your
past.” She says with a slight sorrow in her voice.

“Yeah I do. Be happy, be well. Treat each other with respect and always talk things out, don’t hold things in. It never works out when you try to figure things out yourself in a marriage. There are two of you together for a reason.” I say slowly drifting off into the past.

“O.K. Thanks Mac, enjoy the party and see you tomorrow at the ceremony.” She says smiling running off to interview others for their opinions.

I slowly lean off the wall and start to walk down the hallway, away from the reception area. Clearing my head in these matters always helps me focus on things that truly matter to me. Also I really don’t like crowds much but I never will tell anyone I work with that. The mission always comes first. Always has and always will.

I stop and look up at the vast sky and wonder what the real meaning behind everything is. The stars twinkle slightly as the laughter and music becomes louder and more sounds of joy dance down the station.

“Everyone is enjoying the party it seems.” I mutter to myself.

I slowly turn and start to head back towards everyone. The walls with their shadows slowly seem to move against my movements. As if they are teaming with a life of their own. I slowly move my hand to my Armory Saber and keep walking slowly staying on high alert. The hairs on the back of my neck slowly start to stand up as a creature leaps out of the shadows.
I leap back and dodge their attack. I hear a faint laugh coming from behind a mask. I growl low looking at my opponent.

“Who in the Sith Lords names are you?” I say in a low demanding voice.

“Oh Mactire you are so easy to rile up.” A female voice says as the mask comes off.

Qyreia stands there laughing. Her red skin looks like a larenks eye. Her eyes are the color of cold steel which contrast her black hair. I shake my head, only a Zeltron would do this at a wedding. Well only Qyreia would.

“Thanks for the reminder of why I’m always on guard.” I mutter and focus for a minute.

She looks at me quizingly and then falls to the floor as if an unseen force has just tripped her. Her hands slowly go for her blaster and I shake my head looking at her.

“Don’t you did deserve that and you know it.” I say walking away back towards the crowd

When I enter Bentre is standing in the center of the room holding Tasha in his arms dancing slowly with each other. I sigh and smile lightly in the knowledge that these two will be happy together. Qyreia walks in muttering to herself and walks past me and heads towards Atra laughing as he is still singing poorly and everyone is still having fun.

This is a party for now I think but tomorrow old wounds will reopen and then we will all be back ware we started. Oh well for now it is a blessing.

Placement
2nd place
3rd place
Quo-Wing-Tzun
Member
Quo-Wing-Tzun
Textual submission

Parties were not Quo-Wing-Tzun’s natural habitat. Looking around the reception for his Master’s nuptials he could see a lot of smiling faces, and more than a few of them were glassy eyed with the excesses of alcohol, or possibly emotion, although he was favouring the former. Quo was watchful, eyeing across the crowds of people, forever on his guard. This was a throng, he estimated some 1000 people were in attendance, with more expected as the night wore on.

The venue itself was bedecked in flora of many hues, ice sculptures depicting both the bride and groom’s emblems, the wolf for Bentre, the dragon for Tasha’Vel. Every person’s dining place had been depicted by beautifully wrought, golden name plates, all adorned with both the crests. Quo had his secreted away in one of his carrying pouches.

Many of the revellers had been dressed in specially designed outfits for the occasion, the extravagance of the some of them being overwhelming to the senses. Most of the men were wearing some form of military uniforms, designating their standing within the Clan, and indeed within the Brotherhood in some cases. Quo, however, had worn the same thing he wore all the time, black. His Master would not have expected anything less. It suited him, and it contained all his weapons, one just never knew when they would be needed.

Making his way around the massive dance floor his eyes took in the sound system that had been installed for the evening, providing and audible backdrop to the celebrations. Currently there was a pianist playing instrumental background music for the post meal lull in exuberances. Quo made his way behind the speakers, checking for anything unusual as he went.

It was as he passed around the back of the towering monoliths of the speakers that his evening took a side step into the bizarre. Passing beneath the cables that powered the mighty speakers one of his horns snagged on it, its razor edged sharpness passing through the insulation, connecting both the negative and positive feeds through Quo’s head. The sudden flash, and subsequent shock, passed through his body making his muscles involuntarily contract, flinging him some thirty meters. His trajectory took him through the side of the temporary structure of the reception venue, depositing his slightly smoking form into the centre of the decorative fountain within the grounds of the Versea family seat. Picking himself up, he favoured the look of a drowned rat, and the water lilies stuck within his tunic did nothing to cement the look he had achieved.

Stepping out of the ornamental fountain, Quo shook himself, water running from him in streams. He made his way back up the slight incline towards the reception area, and the gap in the panel where he exitted the structure, backwards, in a sitting position. Already the repair droids were replacing the panel as he stepped back inside.

Bentre Stahoes was stood waiting for him when he stepped over the threshold. “¨Refreshed much?” He asked the dripping Zabrak. Quo shot him a look that most people would have run a mile from. Bentre chuckled to himself, turning away to rejoin the revelling.

Quo stepped forward, turning to his right, his right arm shooting out to his right from his shoulder. “What the....?” He turned around, circling to his left. His cybernetic implant made a right angle at the elbow joint, his forearm pointing upwards. He shook his head...... his arm was signalling to other travellers which way he was turning..... from state of the art machinery to an indicator in one easy move, could this get any worse?

He moved along the edge of the dance floor, towards the bar area. As he reached the corner and turned to his right his arm indicated his intention, promptly flattening an elderly couple who were dancing the military two step. In their supine position it was now a military excuse me. Quo carried on to the bar, this could become ridiculous, and there was nothing he could do about it here. Reaching the bar he ordered a Screwdriver. There was a curious clattering noise, and a spanner slid along the bar top towards him. A quizzical look crossed Quo’s face, he caught the spanner, and looked questioningly at the Bartender. “I never was any good with machinery,” he shrugged. The withering look Quo shot him made him pour a drink quickly, and send it along the same path as the tool had travelled. Quo downed it in one, slurping the last dregs with his drinking tube. Making his way over to the pianist he sat on the edge of the stool.

“Have you got a license to drive this piano?” he asked

“A...wuh.....the.....erm.......license?” Replied the bemused musician

“Yes, a license,” said Quo with a face like granite, “you can’t drive one alone if you haven’t got one”

“Er..... No,” came the stuttering reply

“Right, move up,” added the Zabrak as he shuffled the player down the stool. Looking at the music sheet propped on the piano’s stand he began tinkling the keys. The resultant sound was akin to a Steinway falling down a flight of stairs. Quo’s face frowned, confused, then the light of realisation dawned on him. Taking a knife from his belt he sliced the bottom part of the sheet from the manuscript. He took it and turned it upside down, his fingers again twiddling the keys, this time a lot more tunefully.

“Sorted.” He said, “Chinese arm, reads from right to left,” as if this was the most logical thing in the world.

Bentros, having watched all this from the bar looked baffled. “I’ll never understand you Quo,” was the only response he could find.

Leaving the piano seat Quo smirked, he made his way left, away from the piano, his arm making the left turn signal as he did so. Bentros found himself raising his own hand, immediately wondering why. That lunatic was catching!!

“Congratulations my Master, and yo u Bentros,” extending his prosthetic arm to the groom. Bentros hesitantly grasped the proffered handshake, unsure if the errant arm was about to fling him across the dance floor. “I must go and get this fixed,” he glanced at his right arm.

Tasha’Vel was watching from behind Bentros’ right shoulder, tears streaming down her face, her shoulders shaking as she laughed. “You sure know how to pick them, love.” Bentros chided her.

“I know darling,” said Tasha’Vel, “but he’s our idiot, and we wouldn’t have him any other way”

“No, you’re right, as always,” he replied, kissing her warmly. A crashing, cries, and a pair of thuds marked Quo’s progress from the room. Turning right towards the family House he almost decapitated a drinks waiter as his prosthesis continued to indicate his progress.

Tasha’Vel needed to pee, badly! And Quo needed more training, in more ways than one!!

Placement
3rd place
Member
Benn Nevis
File submission
I_could_not_believe_my_wife_had_drug_me_to_this.doc
Placement
No placement