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Competition
Oh, Honored Guest!
Textual submission

Oh Honored Guest
Written by Aedile Mystic Alara Deathbane (Dossier #12681)

“The Zelosians shouldn’t be kept waiting long,” Quaestor Braecen Kaeth addressed his new apprentice with his orders. “Ensure you leave swiftly after this conversation. We don’t have much time before the Grand Master tries to further our demise and gets involved in our plans.”

“As you wish, my Lord.” Alara held her hand over heart as a salute, bowed slightly, and turned to walk out of the meeting quarters.

“Alara…” Braecen called.

The Aedile turned to her Quaestor in response. Braecen stood over the large table and leaned on his clenched fists that were propped on its surface. “Please… hurry back soon. We are depending on your success and your safe return.”

Without a word, Alara nodded and continued on her way. She pressed her left arm against the swiveling door to exit and began summoning a shuttlecraft from the space station’s bay.

*Finally. A chance to get off this damn hunk of metal. Been three long fragging weeks. *

Her beloved Clan had been stranded there ever since Grand Master Pravus marooned them there by destroying the entire Cocytus System. All their wonderful homeworlds: Judecca, Caina, Ptolomea; they were all destroyed for Pravus’ schemes for power. Anger rippled throughout Alara’s veins at the mere thought of what happened. The half-Sephi’s ears flexed upwards and downwards as she shook her head and continued down the corridor to the nearest elevator pad. She stepped carefully onto the one at the end of the metallic grey hall and let out a sigh as she descended.

*Zelosians... Plant people. I’m being sent there to see if they know anything about restoring worlds. I guess the Clan Summit wants to try and revitalize our planets. Can’t say I blame them for trying, but a bunch of emerald haired aliens probably won’t change anything we’ve gone through. And what’s stopping Pravus from blowing them up again?*

She descended down to the shuttle bay and was met by a FA-5 Valet Droid. Over the valet droid’s black matte chest was the name encryption “VALETINO”.

“Good day, Mystic Deathbane,” Valetino’s robotic, overdramatically masculine voice reverberated from the droid system’s chest. “I will be your chauffeur to Zelos II. The sugar cargo is already packed for the journey.”

At this point, Alara couldn’t help but let out a laugh. *So THAT is what we are trading them for their services. Typical Xen. I better be prepared to deal with some whacky Zelosians.*

“Thank you, Valetino. I am ready to depart if the shuttle is ready,” the half-Sephi responded kindly.

“In that case, follow me.” Valetino gestured his hand forward and walked down the long bridged hallway that hung over the shuttle bay’s floor. While Alara followed the droid, she sent a quick text to her sister Shadow from her datapad:

**GOING ON A MISSION. BE BACK SOON. FEED ARTEMIS AND FORREN.**

Before the pair reached their assigned shuttle, Alara received a text back from the Battle Team Leader:

**WILL DO. TWINS AND I WILL MISS YOU. STAY SAFE.**

Alara smiled and let her left arm hang by her side. She instinctively felt under her cloak to check if her lightsabers and blaster were clipped onto her belt. Her query was answered by her fingertips with positive response. *Right. All good to go. I wonder if I should text Jorm to let him know I’ll be gone. Eh… He’s a smart Kiffar. He’ll text Shadow if he’s looking for me.*

Alara had already warned her beloved Jorm Na’trej that she might have to skip out on dinner at the space station’s cafeteria anyway. He shouldn’t be too worried if she doesn’t arrive. Before Alara could follow her assigned droid up the ramp to their shuttle, that particular Kiffar popped out from around the corner on the path.

“Oy! Why didn’t you let me know you were going on a mission?!” Jorm held his arms out towards his favored Dark Jedi and flashed that rather coy grin towards her.

“I thought it wouldn’t be right to spread information on my mission for the Summit,” Alara fibbed, “Sorry dear. Wishing me off, I suppose?”

“Ha! Cute, ‘Lara. I’m accompanying you, of course.” He stated proudly, bringing his arms down to rest on his hips to accentuate his confident posture.

“Miss Deathbane, I don’t recall receiving data on a passenger…” Valetino looked towards the Mystic with an empty face, though his words held an air of snarkiness.

“Yes, Valetino. My apologies. You see, my beloved Kiffar has a habit of crashing Summit Party Plans. It’s fine, he’s not going to join us.” Alara spoke plainly while glaring over towards Jorm in her peripheral.

“Oh c’mon love, you can’t brush me off that easily.” Jorm headed towards the pair and reached his arms around the woman’s hips. At first Alara hesitated, but her gut feeling said she shouldn’t stop his accompanying her. She couldn’t help but flash a smile towards him and lift her hands to meet his.

“Alllriiighttt. You can come. But please play nice. This is a diplomatic mission.” She stressed sternly, but couldn’t help ending her words by landing a kiss on his cheek.

“Unfortunately are the seats are taken, Mystic Alara Deathbane. There will be no room for passengers in this shuttlecraft.” Valetino responded.

“Ohh, that’s where you’re wrong you rather strange-sounding bucket of bolts. Alara and I only need one seat between the two of us.” Jorm swung around his half-Sephi’s side and winked as he led her further onto the ramp towards the ship’s entrance.

Without a word, Valetino followed the pair into the craft and managed the controls within the ship to call the ramp back under the door. The door hummed and clicked shut, safely air-locking the interior from anything on the outside. The Sentients promptly hopped into the chair to the right of the pilot’s seat and relaxed in each other’s arms.

“Did you bring food?” Jorm nudged Alara’s right pointed ear with his nose lovingly.

“No, there might be a protein bar in my belt pack though.” Alara’s hand left Jorm’s arm and pushed her cloak backwards to pull at the bag clasp on her belt.

“Lemme get that for you…” Jorm traced her arm with his and began tickling her exposed abdominals. A hearty laugh escaped from Alara’s chest as she attempted to grab the Battlemaster’s hands and push them away from her. Jorm began to join her in laughing until the impatient droid interrupted:

“Miss Deathbane, shall we depart?” Valetino clipped himself into his seatbelt and placed his hands on the steering wheel while he turned to look at her.

“Of course, Valetino!” Alara panted out her words, breathless after laughing.

The droid nodded in obedience and flicked the shuttle’s driving controls on. After a few clicks and flips of more switches, the droid thrusted the steering wheel forward and piloted the shuttlecraft towards the shuttle bay’s large and opening exit.

With Jorm by her side, time flew by extremely fast. It felt like they arrived within the atmosphere of Zelos II after merely a few giggles exchanged between the couple.

“Be quiet now, Jorm. I need to contact the landing personnel on the planet.” Alara kissed her Kiffar’s cheek and began to click various coding on her datapad.

“Only because you asked so nicely.” Jorm winked at her and held a free hand over his mouth. Alara smirked back at him, and then continued pressing keywords into her coding. Shortly afterwards, a hologram of an elder female Zelosian pixelated from her datapad screen.

“Good day, Aedile Mystic Alara Deathbane of Scholae Palatinae. We have been expecting your arrival.” the female’s soothing voice echoed from the hologram.

“Good day to you, Commander. I appreciate your welcome so generously. Could you send my droid the coordinates in which you would like us to land in?” Alara spoke politically.

“Yes, Miss Alara. I will do just that. A welcome committee, including myself, will meet you at the coordinates given now.” Alara could see the Zelosian’s hologram waved its arm to an invisible character to its left and turn back to face the half-Sephi.

“Looking forward to meeting you, Commander.” Alara nodded and shut down the hologram. Its pixels folded back into the screen.

“You’re so sexy when you’re on your best behaviour for Commanders.” Jorm teased Alara with a rub of his nose against her chiseled cheek. Alara allowed herself one more giggle until she stood up and faced the door. The shuttle was already descending upon the planet per the Commander Zelosian’s instruction.

“Thank you dear. But I’m afraid I will have to keep this front for a while. You should stay here. The Summit didn’t tell the Commander you’d be accompanying me. They aren’t expecting a Kiffar and will be suspicious if they see you.” Alara straightened her cloak and belt as she spoke. “In fact, you should hide in the bathroom pod. They shouldn’t even spot you in the window.”

“Awh c’mon, I’m not that distracting with my beauty.” Jorm Na’trej sighed. “But I suppose you’re right. I’ll be good and listen. Stay safe. Shoot me a text if you need me to pummel you out of there.” Jorm kissed his beloved’s cheek and headed towards the bathroom pod as requested. Alara gave him a quick hug from behind and repositioned herself in front of the door.

Valetino looked over his chair to speak. “Landing now, Aedile.”

Alara nodded in thanks and straightened her posture while she crossed her arms behind her in a stature of delegation. Jorm kept the door open just a smidge until Alara’s smiling eyes met with his. With the click of a button by the droid, the shuttle’s door slid open and tucked itself under the craft. A ramp then descended upon the bright green grass of Zelos II.

As Alara walked down the ramp before her, she kept her head held high and smiled gracefully at the various Zelosians who came to greet her. Two Zelosians were on each side of the elder whom she had spoken with before over her datapad. Two males at the far sides that dressed in ivory and light viridian armor plating, their emerald eyes peering from inside intricately detailed metal helmets that held engraved flowering and various forms of flora. Two ladies-in-waiting stood beside the Commander herself and were draped in light green and white fabrics that covered only what was required by morale. The elder herself was draped in violet and yellow fabrics that were sewn specifically to mimic the shape of an iris; a plant that grew long ago on a Human planet. Alara’s ears twitched in recognition as a memory was sparked to life in her mind: the iris was a peace offering to the Zelosians by Humans long ago. This dress must be a symbol of peace for her too. The Mystic couldn’t help but admire both the beauty and masculinity of the creatures before her. As instructed to do by Xen, the Mystic bowed and kissed the elder Commander’s hand.

“Thank you so much for receiving me, Commander.” Alara stayed in her bowed position until she could step back and straighten herself out.

“Thank you for your kindness to us, Alara. I would love to receive you into the palace of Zelos II. Walk alongside me, dear.” the Commander’s voice was even smoother when heard in person. It was almost as each syllable she breathed gave more life to Basic tongue. The elder began to walk down a path to her right, her entourage devotedly following. As Alara stepped forward in attempts to follow, the elder’s group to the right of her stepped aside to give the half-Sephi room to step in. The Dark Jedi smiled, her ears perking upwards at the pair. The Zelosian lady-in-waiting and guard giggled at the sight of it. Happy with providing some joy to them, Alara turned to face forwards and admired the beautiful scenery around her.

Everything was lush with plant life. Beautifully pruned hedges shaped in the images of warriors, flowers, creatures, and past Commanders lined the pathway around them all the way to the palace. This particular palace had large curvatures in its architecture and pointed upwards towards the bright sun that gave light to this beautiful planet. The stone seemed to be that of beige marble and curled intricately around pillars and floor levels. Large bulb-like lanterns hung in symmetrical angles and locations across the castle. Flower bushes and plots of bright blues and yellows were lined around the palace and hedges. In the far distance, Alara’s amber eyes could spot the peaks of mossy green mountains and valleys that took over this particular biome of the planet. Her eyes couldn’t help but flicker with delight and awe.

“You are a lover of nature, are you Miss Alara? Perhaps that is why your name is Deathbane.” The Commander spoke kindly and faced the woman with a smile as she walked.

“Partially, I suppose. I’ve always been attuned with nature. My name was given to me after I conquered death as a small child, though. Before then, it was Night.”

“Ah yes, that definitely was not the right name for you. Someone who shines so brightly could not be shrouded by mere darkness.” The Elder complimented her.

“Thank you, Commander. That is very touching.” Alara spoke earnestly.

The group continued onwards down the path in silence and eventually made it to the palace entrance. More beautifully decorated females and males of the planet greeted them in bows and curtseys as they walked past. The palace archways allowed for most of the light in the halls, but brilliantly cyan flickering torches also lined the main hall on pillars that stood to the sides of the carpet on which they now walked. Incandescent paintings came alive across the palace walls. As they continued on, the paintings’ characters seemed almost to follow them to the main throne room. Large plant like chandeliers emitting more cyan light into the room. The throne, being the focal point of the room, was a rose gold color and was engraved with firefly-like creatures. The cushions were a delicate ivory. A large tapestry of a beautiful garden hung behind the throne. The Commander left the group to sit on her beautiful display. Her two ladies-in-waiting sat gracefully upon small ivory pillows that were laid around the base of the throne. The guards still stood in their positions next to Alara.

Once again, Alara remembered her Consul’s instruction and kneeled down to honor the Commander before her. She did not move an inch until her Sephi ears twitched in response to the elder’s voice:

“Greetings, Aedile Alara Deathbane of Clan Scholae Palatinae from the Dark Jedi Brotherhood. We are honored to offer our hospitality to you. How can we be of assistance to you?”

“Your kindness and hospitality truly brings life to my soul, Commander. This matter I bring along with me is one of misfortune and desolation. Clan Scholae Palatinae’s home, the Cocytus System as you know it, has been completely eradicated. Grand Master Pravus has turned against the Brotherhood for his own endeavors, and in doing so destroyed our home planets. We have come to you, Commander, and this glorious planet, in hopes that you may have an answer for our system. Can we somehow restore life and balance once more to it?” Alara stepped forward, turned on her datapad, and released a hologram of the desolate system into the air for all to see. The congregation within the room gasped and scoffed at what horrid sights Grand Master Pravus caused. Alara was sure to keep a measure of sorrow in her eyes as she gazed at the Elder ruler. It was a few nervous inhales on Alara’s behalf before the Elder spoke again.

“Alara, we truly sympathize with you during these dark and desolate times. Grand Master Pravus has truly done you and your clan, as well as the rest of the universe wrong. Life may come to your system once more, but only if the universe allows it. We Zelosians do not have such a power. It is true that we have worked on it for several decades now, but we have not perfected it enough to do this task you have asked from us.” She waited a moment, then stood up and gently traced Alara’s chin with an index finger. “But do not fret, Miss Deathbane. We will do what we can in our power. Your Clan, despite its usual mischievous circumstance, has been good to us. We offer to our ally gifts of our people: fertilizer, Zelosian fruit trees, and hearty soil that will not be so easily destroyed as your system’s was. Take these as a token of our peace.” The Elder turned away and sat once again upon her chair.

When the Commander was seated comfortably, Alara continued with her speech: “Commander, you and your people are so generous and loyal. Thank you for your tokens which are highly revered and truly truly appreciated by my people. This kindness will not go unnoticed. I have come bearing gifts as well…” The Mystic reached into her cloak and pulled out one single sugar cube. She held it flat onto her palm and offered it for all to see. Giggles of excitement and joy filled the room. Even the Commander cracked a graceful smile.

“You are truly friends of ours, Alara. Thank you very much. Stay as long as you like for festivities and feasting.”

“There is plenty more where this came from. Send some guards down to my ship and they will find the rest of what awaits your Highness. Thank you for your hospitality once again. I will stay until sunset, then return to my people who require this aid you have presented us. The kindness of the Zelosians this day will not go forgotten.” Alara stepped forward confidently and handed the sugar cube cautiously to the Commander who gladly received it. A snap of the Commander’s fingers triggered music and dancing to blossom into the room. Servants and ladies-in-waiting came from the arched halls and brought plates upon plates of delicious-looking fruits and vegetation.

After an hour or so, Alara was eating a delicious melon-type fruit while chatting with some ladies-in-waiting while some serious guards dragged a rather sheepish-looking Kiffar into the throne room. Female Zelosians ooh-ed and giggled at the sight of it. The Commander however, who was just finished her meal, stood up and glared at the sight.

“Your Highness! We found this Kiffar skulking about in Miss Deathbane’s shuttle while we were unloading cargo! This fiend must have attempted to stop Miss Deathbane on her mission home!” A guard shouted, peering down at Jorm suspiciously.

“I was not! Alara, my dear, tell them I’m no harm to you!” Jorm frowned up at the guard.

“Is he truly no harm? Or shall we throw him in the dungeon?” the Commander turned to Alara who was seated at her right hand.

“He is no harm to me or to any of you. I apologize most deeply, Commander. You see, this is Jorm Na’trej: Battlemaster of Clan Scholae Palatinae, and also my partner. He was unassigned to this visit, you see, yet still managed to sneak onboard on the intent of keeping me safe.” Alara spoke carefully as she stared at the Kiffar in both seriousness and attempt to not laugh at his demise. “When I discovered his presence on my ship, I told him to stay behind in efforts not to confuse your Highness. Though my feeble attempts in doing so seemed to have made it a concern for your guards. My humblest apologies.” At the end of the Mystic’s sentence, the guards quickly unhanded Na’trej and helped him to his feet.

“Ah… I see. Well considering what your people have gone through, Alara, I understand his intentions in keeping you safe. He is very welcome to join us in the feast.

“Thank you! I know it’s not a custom, but you don’t happen to have wine handy, do you?” Jorm hopped up from the ground and dusted himself off as he walked towards the Commander. He finished his sentence by giving her a kiss on the hand.

“Of course, we keep it around for visitors such as yourself. I’m happy to observe that even sneaky stowaways such as yourself have such manners. Welcome yourself to a bottle. And perhaps since your favored partner is here, Alara, you might consider staying the night in the palace?”

“Well…” Alara began. Jorm sat next to her and pleaded with mischievous, playful eyes. “I suppose so. Thank you so much for your generosity.”

“You’re very welcome. My guards will load our gifts onto your ship so that you are ready to take off after breakfast. Let the celebrations of our friendship continue!” the Commander sat down and raised a glass. Members of the nobility mimicked her stance. Jorm received a bottle from a nearby servant and raised it in cheers. He flashed a grin at Alara and gave her a wink. When everyone drank together their toast, Jorm nudged the half-Sephi beside him and spoke softly into her ear: “Ya know, our system may be destroyed and all, but I haven’t felt this hopeful in some time. I bet the bedrooms here have quite the vegetation and vines which we can utilize to our benefit tonight.”

“How so, Jester of mine?” Alara nudged back.

“Well, let’s just say you’re going to be snuggled quite tightly in bed while I help you enjoy this night on an exotic world.” He winked again. Alara’s cheeks colored as a laugh escaped her chest.

*Well, this wasn’t what I had hoped for in this journey, but at least all’s well that ends well. *

Competition
Oh, Honored Guest!
File submission
Honored_Guest_(10106)_v2.pdf
Competition
The Perfect Brawl
File submission
BrawlVosiri4993.docx
Competition
The Perfect Brawl
File submission
The_Perfect_Battle.docx
Competition
The Perfect Brawl
File submission
Lekmurder.pdf
Textual submission

Because taking out slavers is what she does...

Competition
Old Fart Sadowans
File submission
3714-oldfartsadowans.txt
Textual submission

He stared at the sealed door, the ancients stones interlocking in ways that hurt his mind, the joints too perfect, too seamless. A hand pushed dark hair from his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose, feeling the squeak of age as he rubbed into the corners of his eyes. It had been too long.

The icons came into view again, the pale light cast by the chemlight flickering as it too felt the ravage of age. He reached out a hand, a thin veneer of soft leather between his fingertips and the stone, coated in antique dust. Images flashed before his eyes, a typical defense from the ancients. He smiled, teeth glinting as he traced the symbols round their spirals, across runes and ideographs. And there it was, the dull creak of the catch. He paused before applying more pressure, the stone sliding back into the door, stone cogs rotating from within, rumbling with deep bass resonance as they moved away, exposing the room ahead.

His hand went to his belt, skipping over a blaster holster and a hanging lightsaber, fingers closing around another chemlight. He snapped it in his hand, shaking it to activate the reaction within, pale golden light flowing from it as he threw it into the darkened room. The tapestries were the first thing he saw, rich and dark, hanging from the ceiling to the floor, black embroidery telling stories older than anything he had seen in his lifetime. He stepped cautiously, half holding his breath as he moved across the threshold.

The golden light bounced off of his violet eyes, framed with creases as he scanned the room. There were cabinets, the old wood carved with steady hands in a display of fine craftsmanship. Chests of the same make flanking them, no doubt full of treasures meant to accompany the long dead lord into the afterlife. Then, the raised dais in the middle of the chamber, a waist-high platform covered in more tapestry. He stepped to it carefully, leery of the pressure plates and myriad other traps that the old architects were fond of using to protect their gods. He raised another chemlight, his eyes falling upon the platform, finding nothing but dust.

He let out a sigh, turning away, eyes drawing across the rest of the chamber. A silhouette caught his attention, lurking against one of the walls. He moved toward it, raising the chemlight again, mind reeling. The old lords were known for building intricate suits of Force-imbued armor, and to find an intact set would be worth millions of credits easily. He let his mind idly consider the fantasy of a long vacation in a paradise climate, moving toward the dull sheen of black armor.

It turned.

He froze, mouth falling open as he blinked. The chemlight poured his own shadow over the corner of the room, and his mind tried to tell him he had imagined it, but somewhere back in the unevolved parts of his mind he knew better. The fear grew behind his eyes, and he let it hold him to that spot for a moment.

It moved again, the armor shifting without the benefit of wind or breeze. It was deep below the stone, after all, nearly fifty stories below the spot that they said a keep once stood. It was ten years of research and expensive scanning equipment that revealed the opening, the culmination of his father's work and his own. He shook off the doubt, stepping forward.

It definitely turned toward him, stepping in mirror toward him. A trick, a trap, ghosts of the old lords were only legends, used to keep interlopers and gravediggers from their treasures. He waved a hand, seeing if it would do the same.

The squall of energized crystals filled the air as the deep crimson light did. He stepped back, nearly stumbling as a second blade erupted, the color of a stormy sunset crashing over him. He staggered backward, hand reaching for the hilt at his own waist, the weapon his father had built with him. It fumbled from his fingers, sliding down the leg of his pants and to the stone of the floor. He couldn't think, his mind caught in the fear. Dropping to his knees, he scrambled for the saber, the dull ache in his fingers reminding him that he was too old for this work. The hum of sabers louder as the distance shortened, he felt his breath catch.

"You're not real!" he cried out, eyes wide.

The dull throb washed over his senses as the helmet raised from the specter, floating back on unseen hands and setting down on a cabinet behind him. Dark hair flowed out from under it, cascading down his back, a mustache flowing down his chest. His skin was paler than moonlight, eyes darker than space as he looked at him.

"None of us are." The words crashed against his ears and his mind, the gravel tone assailing him from all sides.

He let the visage burn into his eyes, recognizing the man almost immediately. He had read about him, heard the stories ever since he was a boy.

"You died." He found the saber, standing up slowly to look at the ghost, his heart pounding in his chest. Bravery was stepping past fear, his father taught him. He clasped the saber to his belt in feigned defiance, something in his head still screaming at him for foolishness.

The lord's head tilted at him, as if considering it, and then he abruptly turned around, looking back toward his helmet, the saber blades evaporating into darkness. "Why are you here?"

That was a long story. He tried to sum it up in his head, tried to distill it down into an easy to pronounce and easy to digest bit of speech. It wasn't easy. "We had to be sure you existed."

He turned back, looking at him with those black predatory eyes. "You know what I was and yet..." He gestured toward the opened door with a sweep of a hand. "There is nothing for me out there." He paused, looking off into space. "Not any more."

"I know. You're dead."

He felt a tug at his belt, his saber detaching from the d-ring and soaring toward the Lord's open hand. His mouth fell open as he watched it move through the air, tongue working silent obscenities before coagulating into real words. Ghosts did not possess that ability. "You can't be... it's been seven hundred... no. There is no way."

He closed fingers around the weapon, turning it over in his hand, letting the Force reach into the hilt, feeling across the crystals, the power cells. He looked back up at him. "Who are you?"

He blinked. "It's mine, I swear." He stammered, wondering.

"Who are you?"

"I didn't steal it. My father and I built it."

The Lord stepped forward, the bootfall echoing across his senses. "I am Lord Musashi Daraku Keibatsu, the Lion of Tarthos, Emperor of the Golden Lotus, and Dark Lord of the Star Chamber." He paused for a beat. "Who are you?"

He blinked, drawing in breath. "I am Isar Kuros, of the Sanjuro clan." He paused for a moment before the words spilled from his mouth. "Your descendant."

Muz paused, watching him for a moment as the chemlights slowly flickered.

"You should be dead." Isar shook his head.

Muz lowered his head, looking at him through the tops of his eyes. "You should not have come here. You know what I am."

The stories screamed past his mind as he considered. Tall tales, legends, myths. The God of Kyataru, wreaking havoc on the heavens, tearing worlds apart, building technology from the stars back to his old home. They couldn't be true.

"Just like I can't be alive." Muz completed Isar's thought aloud.

Isar just stared at him, letting the unasked question hang in the air.

Muz ignored it. handing him back his saber, waving him at the door. "Leave me in peace. Your world wants me even less than I want it."

"You don't want to see..."

Muz just looked at him, no expression on his face. Isar stepped backward, his feet shuffling the dust as he backed away from the man. The stories said that once his queen passed that he had changed, withdrawing to the Rock of Kuroshin, the castle that once lay where his hometown grew. Afterwards, every time his people came calling, both from the stars and from the capital, they would come to regret it. The legends said he buried himself in the rock so deep that even the Force couldn't feel him, then laid down to die. Isar looked back at the Lord, searching his face.

Muz turned away, an outstretched hand waving, the stone gears rotating again to seal him back in his hole. Isar watched as the clasps reconnected, the sigils reforming as the parts combined and fell back to flush. The curves came together, the symbol of the lion's head assembling before his eyes.

Isar sighed.

No one would believe him.

Competition
Old Fart Sadowans
File submission
old_farts.doc