Thread: [Fic] Survivour
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Old 10-22-2008, 05:22 PM   #21
knight 12167
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Cool Guy Aftermath

Helo I would like to thank Anurilliblade for proofing this chap.

Plz comment if you read as it greatly helps my motivation to write the next chapter

Well here it is

Joined in a local marathon up Mount Dante today. I could have won but I didn’t want to attract attention to myself, so instead I ended the race at a close second. It is good to get to know the peaceful farmers and workers here on Dantooine.

The next post in my journal is hardly worth documenting. I will however include it.

Day 2, Day3, Day 4 and Day 5


We were safely in hyperspace. I vaguely recall congratulating the youngling who had shot down our pursuers. He was very thankful for my saving him. [(I could see that even though he had a seen many terrors that night he was still trying to suck me in, in a jedi like way. However, while he spoke very formally and politely with his mouth, I did notice his lekku…
You see the Twi’lek have a unique language in which part of communication is carried out by small twitches of the lekku. I happened to notice that with his lekku he was calling me names which I will not repeat and using language quite unbecoming a Jedi.

“I’m fluent with your lekku language, young--,”

“My name is Andrewsi Tanosa Pano, or just Andrew for short, Master Bluebender,” he said in a high voice. His voice had obviously not cracked yet.

I immediately noticed that his lekku had stopped swearing and were now lying down resignedly, though occasionally flaring up for the odd swear word.

I think both of us were in shock at that time. We just chatted about life within the Jedi order. I discovered the details of Andrew’s life. He was like many of the other Jedi younglings. Apparently he was brought up on Coruscant, the son of a poor Twi’lek clerk who could not afford to keep him. I also learnt he was 14. There was no talk of any plan or anything at all except for just idle chatting about life. Eventually my young accomplice fell asleep while he was lying down on the hover couch. I got a thermal blanket out of my emergency supplies pack and covered the tired young man with it.

That night was the start of a very bad habit that I am to this day trying to get rid off. I passed a storage container on the way to my bunk. The storage container contained a bottle of very expensive Tarisian ale. I usually drank it after a successful mission or if I had a disagreement with a fellow Jedi colleague. But that night I made my mistake. I took a swig directly from the bottle. I quickly found that it eased the pain and dark thoughts that were infesting my mind.

I woke up with the traditional killer Tarisian hangover. As I attempted to rise, I spied two empty bottles on the floor next to my bunk. I gingerly lowered myself back down, just thankful I still knew which way was up. Two bottles was usually enough to power a large party or a small tank for the better part of the night. That morning was probably the only time I was sober for many days. I checked out the com data I had hacked from the clone gunship. There was quite a bit of chatter over something called “Order 66”. A helpfully forgetful clone had queried about the order. An exasperated clone commander had then described the order in great detail. Before that day I had had an unwavering support of Chancellor Palpatine. The magnitude of his treachery hit me like a burning blade, and I knew I could never truly trust anyone again. Ever since then I have referred to the fall of the Jedi as “The Order,” feebly attempting through blandness to block out the painful memory.

The next few days passed in a drunken haze. About 4 days after the attack we began to get the hyperspace sickness called Scurvy. We had spent more than the specified three day limits set by the Interplanetary Health Foundation in hyperspace. So, after quite a bit of retching I set the nav computer towards the nearest planet: Tatooine.
We landed in Anchorhead, a bustling town filled with all sorts of different beings. There were bounty hunters, robbers, con men, moisture farmers or just spacers looking for a drink. Such a place would hardly be affected by the fall of the Jedi. As Andrew and I walked down the cargo ramp, we were hit by the searing, inhospitable faces of the twin suns. We were then hit by a much more inhospitable local.

It was a Toydarian. He was much like the rest of his species, leathery looking skin, a big belly and a plethora of other unpleasant features. I have had a personal vendetta against the Toydarians since one of them captured and severely beat Master Drallig and I before carting us off to be turned into slaves while we were on a peacekeeping mission to Ryloth. The circumstances, however, did put us into an advantageous position relative to our mission. We were being circulated through the very smuggling ring we were sent to break up! But I’m wandering from the subject. Suffice it to say that our mission was a success. Where was I? Oh, yes, our inhospitable—and might I say rather pungent—friend.

“You land here you pay me 200 credits or you get in trouble with Jabba,” he said in a rasping, oily voice.

I had no patience at all with the thug and simply called upon the Force to fix the situation for me.

“You will leave here and go get yourself a life,” I replied with a wave of my hand.

“I will leave here and go get myself a life,” the poor Toydarian replied in a cold, unemotional voice.

I think it would have been more Jedi-like to have paid, but I was very annoyed and, as I recall, I was only just recovering from yet another Tarisian hangover. I walked along, signaling my shocked young accomplice to follow with a wave of my hand. Basically we walked around just getting fresh, un-reprocessed air into our lungs. We had also brought some military supplies as it was market day. I turned a corner and guess who I saw—Obi-Wan Kenobi. I caught a quick glance at his face. He looked about 20 years older than when I had last seen him while fighting with him in the siege of Jabim, in the Clone Wars. I tore after him. I was on the verge of using the Force to catch him, but I knew every bounty hunter on Tatooine would be on to me if I did. He ducked down a deserted alleyway. I followed, only to find a dead end and no Kenobi. I sent out a quick probe into nearby people’s minds. Nothing. I was either hallucinating or Kenobi didn't want to be found by anyone. Personally I didn’t blame him.

I was panting heavily from running in the heat. My young charge and I settled down in a bar. It was no place for a child like Andrew but I didn’t have the heart to send him off. I ordered myself an eye blaster drink and Andrew a glass of foul-looking water. Andrew and I chatted while we downed our beverages. Talking was the only thing I could do-- except for being drunk-- that kept my mind off of the bad thoughts. We sat there for around about 15 minutes standard time until the fight broke out. There was a Bith band playing an out-of-tune song which we were listening to. The patrons were staring at me for bringing someone as young as Andrew to such a shady sort of bar. A rough-looking Rodian entered the cantina and immediately pointed his guns at human female about 29 years old sitting next to me at the tap.

In bad Basic the Rodian said threateningly, “You don’t pay Jabba’s debt. You give credits now or come with me. Dead or alive.”

The woman was terrified. “Please, I don’t have enough credits! Take 50 and I’ll win the rest in swoop bets tomorrow! Please!”

“That’s not good enough .Get ready to die!”

I probably could have negotiated with the thug but I wasn’t in the mood. Instead I stepped into the line of fire and punched him in the nose. The Rodian fell onto a Squib having a drink, and before I knew it I was in the middle of a bar fight. The band immediately struck up a merry tune. It was just what I needed. Putting a few bounty hunters in a bar and giving them a friendly punch was the perfect thing to do to release my pent-up angers and frustrations. In the end Andrew and I enjoyed the brawl thoroughly but were trained too well by the Jedi to say so. We stayed in the bar for around about another 10 minutes before we were kicked out by a burly bouncer with a stun stick.

We began to head back towards the Pacifist. There was one slight dilemma which came in the form of a group of thugs complaining about not getting the crime lord Jabba’s landing money. A wave of my hand and a subtle mind-trick took care of the situation, though I was beginning to feel a bit guilty about using the Force to my advantage so frequently. I primed the engines quickly. The bar fight had cleared my mind. The Force had spoken to me and it said to head to the old Jedi Enclave on Dantooine. It was a place where many Jedi had joined forces in times of danger. Andrew and I both settled into a healing trance to fix up the bruises we had received in the bar. Everything was fine........ or so I thought........

Never was anything great achieved without danger.
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