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Topics - H-BOMB

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General Star Wars / Star Wars: Rogue One (The First Spin-Off)
« on: March 17, 2015, 02:38:23 AM »

Thoughts? Any bets that it will feature Rogue Squadron and rad X-Wing dogfights? If so, I am beyond excited!

General Star Wars / Star Wars: Battlefront (2013)
« on: June 10, 2013, 06:15:19 PM »
There IS a God!!!!

I'm so excited I'm going to puke!

General Star Wars / Star Wars: First Assault
« on: March 11, 2013, 09:17:07 PM »
Ya'll should check this out:

Let's hope this sees the light of day. The big switch at Lucasfilm and the big focus on the new episodes has disrupted a lot of projects it looks like.

General Star Wars / George Lucas is retiring
« on: January 17, 2012, 10:17:32 PM »
Is he really kicking the bucket?

Says he's "retiring from blockbuster filmmaking". And when questioned about Star Wars he replies; "Why would I make any more when everybody yells at you all the time and says what a terrible person you are?"

What could it MEAN?!?!

Just awesome. Special effects are GREAT! Acting isn't cringe-worthy like most fan films (or maybe its just because its in Italian :P)

Check it out! (Don't worry, there's English subtitles)

General Star Wars / Make your fantasy cast for an Heir to the Empire movie
« on: September 10, 2011, 03:12:32 PM »
To commemorate the 20th anniversary release of the Heir to the Empire novel by Timothy Zahn, Del Ray is doing this fun little thing where you can vote on the cast for an Heir to the Empire movie, if ever there was one.

Round 1: Captain Pellaeon (I voted for Robert DeNiro)
Round 2: Talon Karrde (I voted for Josh Brolin)
Round 3: Joruus C'baoth (I voted for Alan Rickman)

Current round: Wedge Antilles. This one is tough. The options are: David Tennant, Jake Gyllenhall, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Casey Affleck, and Edward Norton. I haven't voted yet, but I think I might go with Jake Gyllenhall.

Anyway, here's the link to the Star Wars page:

From there you can vote on the current round and/or make your choices for the past three. Next up is going to be Mara Jade. Who would you cast?

For Mara Jade I'm thinking either Scarlett Johanson (because she looks awesome in black leather and red hair) or Emma Stone (Because I love her. But not in a creepy, Jim Carrey sort of way)

General Star Wars / Star Wars: Medieval Style!
« on: September 07, 2011, 07:11:43 PM »
So being my usual curious self, I decided to look on the interwebs for some fanart of a medival knight-ish looking Jedi. Inspired by the "If YOU were George Lucas" thread.

And I found this:

Awesome medieval/fantasy interpretation of the characters using action figures.

I have to say this; R2-D2 being a mute dwarf whose only method of communication is through his pan-flute? GENIUS!

Here are some quick pics:

The goodies:

The baddies:

EDIT: The rest of the guy's website has a bunch of other Star Wars interpretations, including Steam Wars, Noir Wars, West Wars, Samurai Wars, Serial Wars, etc.

General Star Wars / Star Wars: Blu-Ray
« on: August 31, 2011, 11:19:45 PM »

General Star Wars / If YOU were George Lucas . . .
« on: August 29, 2011, 09:54:55 PM »
Simple as that: if you were George Lucas how would you do the movies? What would you change? Now this isn't just for the prequels, this can be for the original trilogy too (both original film and special editions), The Clone Wars, anything George Lucas may have been directly in control of (the only control he's ever in) Now I'll get this out straight off the bat, as it could come up that I'm GL-bashing or whatever. I'm not.

In fact, I don't hate him. He came up with Star Wars after all, the greatest blend of fantasy/sci-fi ever, and he has good ideas. But this thread is more of a place for creativity, a chance to see how others would have done Star Wars (pertaining to the general purpose and flow of the movies of course.)

I'll start off somewhere familiar. The Phantom Menace. Often said to be the worst SW film ever. Now, I would change a few things:

The first thing is kind of a big thing. The Jedi. I'd make them more, y'know . . . knights. Instead of them being the ambassadors to the Trade Federation, they could maybe be escorts to the ambassador, who ends up being killed by the TF. And things proceed as usual from there.

Make Jar Jar a little bit less annoying. Give him a different accent. Like Irish or something. And have him be a little bit more helpful. Maybe instead of being a bumbling alien exiled from his his home for being a klutz, he could be a warrior exiled from his home for accidentally killing someone. (Except that would still make him a klutz . . . of a sort.) But anyway, the key being here is he could help the Jedi fight battle droids and would make more sense as a general of the Gungan army. Because honestly, when you take away Jar Jar the Gungans are actually pretty dang cool.

Next! Make Anakin Skywalker a wee bit older. He just seems . . . I don't know, a little too young to be piloting a giant twin jet-engine racing machine. Like make him in his late teens or something. That way it makes more sense for him being a good pilot, and better reason for him falling in love with Padme.

Podraces are fine. Podraces are cool. Maybe eliminate some of the silliness that happened.

No midichlorians. Just no. The Force was much cooler when it was more of a mystical random/training thing.

Then the rest is good. I'll be looking at Attack of the Clones next.

Your turn!!! Now, you don't have to go in order, you can start with whatever movie or anything you want to change.

Fanfiction / Wolfbane: Sands of Pursuit
« on: August 29, 2011, 09:24:38 PM »
If you haven't read the first yet, you should:

New dangers and new enemies present themselves to our band of bounty hunters as duo FENRIS HARROW and NEWT BANNISS briefly part ways with their recent addition to the team; VERA KHOENHG. After an exciting endeavor on the planet of Chandrila, Vera is sent to the outer rim planet CHRISTOPHSIS on a mission for the Corellian Security force that may turn out to be more than it seems. Fenris and Newt, eager for work and doubly eager for pay turn to a dangerous world where everything could go awry! A bitter new rival is hot on their tails, and only time will tell if they have the strength and will to survive in the SANDS OF PURSUIT . . . .

Dramatis Personae
[spoiler]Fenris Harrow: Bounty hunter; human male
Newt Banniss: Bounty hunter; Duros male
Vera Khoenhg: Corellian Security agent; human female
Isskull Karniss: Assassin; Trandoshan male
Teerik: Hunter, Rodian male
Gar Kolis: Corellian Security major; human male[/spoiler]

[spoiler]Hovertrain, Chandrila, Bormea Sector
“This suit is ridiculous.” Newt remarked as he tugged at the collar of the ornamented Chandrilan robes he wore. “This is what I don’t like about the Core Worlds . . .”

   “You don’t seem to mind Corellia that much.” Vera said, wearing similarly expensive clothes, including a small silver piece of paraphernalia on her bleach-blonde hair.

   “That’s because Corellia is, I don’t know,” The Duros lifted up a wine glass from the table in front of him experimentally. “A little rougher around the edges, everything is just too clean here.”

   Fenris sat in the corner of the booth his companions were in. He looked outside the window of the speeding hovertrain at the pristine green fields that zipped by. Every now and then a white building or small farming community or ranch would be glimpsed. “Well, you better get used to it,” he said, “We’ll be on this train for quite a while before our quarry shows up.”

“Is that why you blew the other ten thousand credits we earned for our stint in the Corellian Sector on these fancy-shmancy robes?”

Fenris nodded. “Exactly, we’d stick out like a sore thumb otherwise, and from what I hear; our man is a very suspicious guy.”

“Gee Gohmin, right?”

“That’s the one.”

“Run us by the plan one more time, why don’t you?” Vera asked.

“Alright,” Fenris began. “So according to reports Councilor Gee Gohmin, in charge of the Chandrilan Merchant’s Guild has been acting curiously lately; dealing with suspicious customers and whatnot. He’s also been hard to find lately, but according to sources, he may be travelling on this train.”

“Yeah, I got that much.” Newt said.

“I talked it over with one of the conductors, and he’s having a servant bring Gee Gohmin a drink loaded with laxatives.”

“Ew,” Newt remarked.

Fenris ignored him. “Eventually, Gee is going to have to run to the bathroom at which point I’ll come in, hold him at gunpoint, get some answers, and bring him in.”

“Then why did you bring us along?” Vera asked. “It seems simple enough to do alone.”

“Yeah I could’ve gone without this stuffy getup, thank you very much!” Newt once again itched at his collar.

“You guys are here just in case things don’t go as planned.”

“Hopefully that doesn’t happen.” Vera said, turning to look outside.

Another half an hour passed before the trio spotted councilor Gee enter the train after a stop at Gladean station. He was accompanied by two other wealthy-looking nobles; a large-looking man and his presumable wife. Gee himself was much thinner, and stood above the others by a fair margin.

“There’s our man.” Fenris noted.

The nobles sat down at a table across the car from Fenris and his fellow bounty hunters. Just as planned, a servant came to them with a tray loaded with food and drinks from all across the grassy plains of Chandrila.

“Now let’s see if your negotiation with the conductor paid off.” Vera said quietly.

Gee’s larger correspondents dug into the food; the councilor himself however held back for a while, nibbling on a certain pastry for a good amount of time while listening to his companions.

“Any time now . . .” Fenris said anxiously.

Eventually, the man poured himself a glass of the laxative-loaded Chandrilan vintage wine. A few minutes of conversation later, and the man began to show signs of discomfort. He excused himself from the table and exited the car towards the direction of the refreshers.

Fenris gave him a moments’ head start before pursuing. “This won’t take long,” he told his companions. He strode towards the restroom, and readied his modified DE-12 pistol; concealed within the folds of his robe.

Inside the room, Gee Gohmin was standing in front of a urinal; taking care of business, and according to the man’s sounds of discomfort it was taking longer than normal.

“Excuse me councilor Gohmin, I would like to ask a few questions.” Fenris announced.

The noble grumbled and turned his head a notch in order to see the bounty hunter. “There are better times and places for interviews.”

“It will only take five minutes of your time.” Fenris assured.

“I’m sure.” Gee turned back to his work. “You damn reporters keep getting more and more persistent.”

“I’m no reporter sir,” The bounty hunter said, grabbing his pistol, yet not drawing it. “And I want to ask you just where you sent that flight of freighters one standard week ago.”

The councilor laughed, “I sent them to Eriadu to deliver crops, now why would you want to know that?”

Fenris drew his DE-12 sidearm and jabbed the barrel of his pistol into the man’s back. “I want you to tell the truth.”

Gee looked almost disgusted as he felt the weapon press against his back. “What are you doing, you pervert?”

“Pervert . . . what?” Fenris thought, “No, it’s a blaster pistol dammit!” He flicked a switch and the weapon beeped loudly, indicating it was at full charge. “Hear it? Now tell me the truth about the freighters.”

The councilor’s look of disgust was replaced by a look of feigned fearlessness as he realized the true situation of his predicament. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The councilor said. “Those ships were loaded with foodstuffs being delivered to the Eriaduan people!”

“Well apparently scans from the dock authorities revealed those ships as having living cargo.” Fenris jabbed forward with the pistol again. “Dock authorities that were later revealed to have been bribed to let the cargo leave.”

“They were loaded with crops!” Gee insisted.

“Oh please,” Fenris sighed. “Stop it; you’re like a broken record.”

“I’m telling the truth!” The Councilor argued.

“Maybe,” Fenris said, reaching for the pair of handcuffs he had in his pocket. “But it’s not really my problem. Now I want you to finish up what you’re doing here, and come with me down to the security station at the next stop, and the fine folks there can sort things out with you.”

The bounty hunter heard Gee zipping up the front of his pants. “And don’t even think about grabbing that neural stunner in your waistband pocket there.” He added. “In fact why don’t you just hand that to me . . .” Fenris held out his hand.

Councilor Gee Gohmin lifted the weapon out and suddenly turned, aiming the weapon at Fenris.

The Corellian saw it coming and ducked the blast which sent a wave of static sizzling into a nearby stall. He grabbed the man’s wrist and slammed it into the corner of the porcelain urinal. Gee let out a cry and the weapon clattered to the floor. The Councilor made a vain punch at Fenris, which was easily dodged and followed up by a solid-fisted strike into the noble’s gut.

Gee collapsed over himself, gasping for air after being winded.

 “Fighting back just makes you guiltier.” Fenris tsked. “Now, come along,”

The two exited the bathroom and headed instead to the rear of the train, where the caboose would be less crowded, and the handcuffed councilor would attract less attention. Fenris’ comlink beeped and he answered it.

   “You got him?” Newt asked from the other side of the connection.

   “Yeah, it all worked out.” Fenris assured his partner. “We’re headed to the back of the train, feel free to join us.”

   “Will do, Newt out,”

   Fenris opened the door of the caboose and shoved the councilor down onto one of the seats.

   “Now councilor, mind telling me about your little slave trafficking operation?”

   “Slaves?!” Gee protested “I would never indulge in such vile vices!”

   “I never said anything about you owning slaves,” Fenris said “But you can’t deny that you sneaked a few through to buyers in the other core worlds.”

   “You would do the same!” Gee answered. “You’re no different than me, bounty hunter! If you saw the money they offered you’d give it a shot as well.”

   “No,” Fenris shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t. I’ve seen slavery first hand and what it does to children and families. I would want no part in anything that has to do with it.”

   “That’s what you say now . . .”

   Fenris waved his pistol at the man’s face. “Look, you’re really irritating me, so please shut up before I shoot you.”

   “But they want me alive don’t they?”

   “Who said I was going to kill you?” He gestured the pistol to both of the councilor’s legs. “A blast here, a blast there; a few cuts and bruises won’t impact my reward too much.”

   The door opened behind Fenris, and Newt and Vera strode into the caboose.

   “You two get to know each other?” Newt asked.
“Yeah, real well,” Fenris said, holstering his DE-12 pistol. “He’s definitely the guy.”

   “Sounds good, let’s bag him.” Newt exclaimed.

   Suddenly the train rocked violently and there was the audible trace of an explosion. The group stumbled to regain their balance.

   “That . . . didn’t sound like it was supposed to happen.” Vera remarked.

   The train suddenly ground to a halt and the bounty hunters once again found themselves fighting to stay up.

   “I don’t think it was.” Fenris said, drawing his pistol. He looked at councilor Gee whose lip was now bleeding from a rough fall. “Did you call anybody?”

   The councilor shook his head. “No I didn’t.”

   “Is there anybody else involved in the slave trade on this ship?” Newt questioned.


   An announcement suddenly came over the PA system. “This is the conductor, for the time being the train has been halted by an unknown party. Everyone remain calm and comply with the boarders as they arrive.”

   Fenris pointed his pistol at the councilor’s face. “You better tell us the truth, friend.”

   The councilor twitched visibly and Fenris grabbed the man by the throat.

   “Okay okay okay,” Gee Gohmin put up his hands. “One of my slave trader associates is on board; I was going to meet him when you intervened. My absence must have set him off, so he has . . .”

   “He’s what?” Vera demanded.

   “He’s come to get me.” Realization dawned on the official’s face. “He’s come to silence me; he’s going to kill me!”

   “Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Fenris said, releasing Gee from his grasp. “Newt, where’s the nearest exit hatch?”

   The Duros pointed to an emergency exit on the floor labeled with red and yellow lettering. “Am I the only one who read the ‘in case of emergency’ data pamphlet?” he asked.

   “Yes,” Fenris said moving to the hatch.

   “It’s a long drop down.” Vera noted.
“We could take one of the slavers’ craft.” Newt suggested. “They had to have come in some sort of high-speed skimmer in order to mbush the train.”

   “Right,” Fenris acknowledged. “Let’s go,” he motioned to the entryway back into the main part of the train.

   “No, let’s not go.” Gee hastily said. “Those people want to kill me.”

   Newt grabbed the cowering man by the arm and yanked him upright. “Sorry but your input isn’t appreciated. Now shut up and move.”

   The group exited the caboose and entered the next car. Other passengers were huddling under tables and didn’t notice them jog by. Fenris opened the door to the next car, a lounge car, and came face-to-face with an armed Twi’lek slaver. He raised his foot and kicked the alien over, blasting him once in the chest with his DE-12.

   A light overhead exploded into a shower of sparks as another slaver opened fire on them. Gee Gohmin squealed as he was thrown to the side. Fenris ducked behind a dining room table as another blast zipped overhead. Newt fired from the side and caught the slaver in the leg, causing him to collapse. Fenris finished him off with his own shot.

   Air was whistling in from an open overhead hatch in the car, and the roar of repulsorlifts could be heard from above.

   “I bet that’s our ride up there.” Vera said.

   “Let’s go,” Newt said, “Fenris, give me a boost.”

   Fenris held his hand out low and in front of him as Newt stepped onto it and up through the hatch. The Duros grunted as he pushed off with his leg. The injury from their last venture was still recovering.

   There were the sounds of a few laser blasts from above and then a slaver sailed past a window in the train, falling to his doom on the green fields below.

   Fenris’ comlink buzzed. “This is Newt, its all clear, get up here.”

   Fenris acknowledged and launched councilor Gee Gohmin up through the hatch, followed by Vera. Fenris then jumped, gripped the edge of the opening and groaned as he hoisted himself up. Vera took his arm and helped pull him up the rest of the way.

   Newt had commandeered an open-cockpit airspeeder. Their bounty was already inside, hunkered beneath the seats. Fenris hopped into one of the rear passenger seats alongside him.

   “We’ve got him,” Vera said “Let’s go!”

   Newt nodded and pulled away from the train. “The nearest station is only a few kilometers from here!” He yelled over the roar of the wind and the engine. “We should make it in no time!”

   Fenris was suddenly tapped on the shoulder by Gee. The councilor pointed behind them, a frightened look on his face.

   The bounty hunter turned to have a look of his own. “Newt,” He said warily, “You better step on it.”

“Why? Is there something behind us?” Newt asked from the pilot seat of the airspeeder. He glanced in the rearview mirror and noticed the two angry, slaver-filled speeders pursuing the m. “Oh,” The Duros slammed down on the accelerator suddenly, and the speeder rocketed forward over the grassy plains. “Stepping on it!”

   “They’re still gaining!” Vera yelled. A red blaster bolt flew by, causing her and the other passengers to duck.

   Fenris pulled out his pistol and fired behind him at the pursuing slavers. They dodged the bolts with ease and continued to get closer. A flurry of blaster bolts bounced off the rear end of the speeder, sending sparks flying and causing the vehicle to jostle in the air.

   “Newt, this isn’t working!” Fenris screamed at the pilot.

   “Well, what do you want me to do?!” Newt questioned, foot pressed hard against the accelerator pedal, the airspeeder’s engine whined in protest. “I’m already breaking the speedometer!”

   “Give them the drop, maybe?” Fenris suggested.

   Newt considered it for a moment. “Alright!” He answered. “Hold onto your stomachs, people!” He picked his foot off the accelerator and pressed it down hard on the brake instead. The speeder’s speed dropped instantly, and the riders were thrown forward into the seats in front of them. Councilor Gee nearly flew out of the vehicle.

   The two pursuing slaver airspeeders continued to fly forward, passing the bounty hunters.

   “Vera, take the right!” Fenris yelled, raising his pistol. “I’ve got the left!”

   Newt pressed down on the accelerator again, and the airspeeder rocketed forward. Gee was once again jostled in his seat, his head whipped backwards and hit the edge of the cushion hard.

   As the slavers came into range, Vera and Fenris opened fire with their pistols. Several shots missed, but one of Vera’s hit the rightmost airspeeder’s pilot square in the head. The vehicle spun, as the slaver’s body leaned on the controls, throwing its passengers across the grassy landscape before finally crashing in a green field.

   Fenris’ shots splattered the back of the other speeder, and must have hit a fuel component because the fast moving vehicle started to sprout fire and lose speed. It suddenly exploded near them and Newt swiveled the airspeeder into a gut-wrenching turn in order to avoid catching any shrapnel. He then eased up on the speed and the entire group breathed a large sigh of relief.

   Fenris wiped his brow and turned to his bounty. “How are you doing, councilor?”

   Gee’s head was pitched over the side of the speeder, vomiting loudly.

   “Beautiful.” Fenris commented.

   The councilor turned back to the hunters and wiped his mouth. “You people are crazy!” He yelled, face pale.

   “Well, you’ll be rid of us soon enough.” Newt said. “Instead you’re going to be meeting lots of new friends down at the detention facility!”

   “Oh,” The councilor mentioned. “That’s right.” His stomach gurgled and he turned to the side again as he gagged.


Hanna City Security Station

   Fenris watched smugly as councilor Gee Gohmin was escorted by guards into the interrogation facilities.

   “Thanks for apprehending him, Fenris.” The sheriff said to the bounty hunters. “Hopefully with him in custody it will be easier to put an end to this slave trafficking, and wipe the stain of slavery from the core worlds.”

   “It’s the best we could do.” The bounty hunter said. “By the way, the hovertrain we were on was hijacked by a group of slavers, no doubt looking for the friend the councilor. You might want to . . .”

   The sheriff smiled. “Don’t worry, we received a call earlier. I already dispatched a unit to take care of them, and to clean up the little mess you made over the countryside.”

   “Yeah,” Fenris said, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry about that . . .”

   “It’s no trouble, really. You did what you had to. It’s not like anyone’s going to miss such scum.”

   “And about the money . . .”

   “Yes,” The sheriff pulled out a datapad. “Fifty-thousand credits will be transferred to your account.”

   “Fifty-thousand?” Newt gaped. “That’s impressive.”

   “Would you prefer forty-five?” The sheriff suggested wryly.

   “No,” The Duros replied. “No, fifty is fine.”

   “There.” The sheriff said after pressing a few buttons. “Transaction is done. See you later, bounty hunters.”

   “Right,” Fenris said, turning. “Take good care of that councilor.”

   “Oh we will.”

   The group took a patrol car back to the spaceport where their ship, the Pursuer-class Enforcer dubbed the Muzzle rested. Newt entered quickly, limping slightly on his bad leg. Fenris was about to follow when he noticed Vera was lagging behind. She was looking intently at her datapad.
   “Are you alright, Vera?” Fenris asked.

   She looked up. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just got a message from Gar.” She waved the device.

   “What’s it about?” he asked.

   “He says CorSec is organizing a seminar for the police force of Christophsis and he wants me to attend.”

   “Christophsis?” Fenris was puzzled. “That’s quite a ways out, isn’t it?

   Vera nodded. “It’s on the edge of the Outer Rim territories, which is part of the reason they want advice from CorSec. The law is pretty sparse out there, the way I hear it. The government of Christophsis wants to try to lock it down.”

   Fenris nodded. “It is; that’s why there’s so much good money to be had out there on the border.” He paused. “How soon is this seminar?”

   “Soon enough that if I want to go, we should leave now.” Vera said.

   “Do you? Want to go, I mean.”

   Vera tilted her head in thought and looked back at the datapad. “Yes, I suppose so.”

   “Alright,” Fenris acknowledged, “We can drop you off there, I’m sure Newt and I can find business somewhere.”

   “Sounds like a plan.” She said, and put away the datapad. “Shall we go?”

   The two entered the belly of the Muzzle and took the turbolift up two levels to the bridge, where Newt sat at the console, flipping switches and doing preflight checks.

   “Oh, there you two are.” He said, looking up from his work as the bounty hunter and CorSec agent arrived. “You know, I’ve been thinking that maybe we should try Ralltiir next.” He offered. “It sounds like there might be some work available to us on Ralltiir. A group of hackers recently crashed the banking system.”

   Fenris shook his head. “Not this time, Newt. We’re headed rimward.”

   “Okay, which rim?” Newt questioned.

   “The outer one,” Vera answered. “I need to go to Christophsis.”

   “Christophsis?” Newt creased his heavy, blue brow. “That’s really far, why do you have to go out there?”

   “CorSec business,” She said cryptically.
   “Okay, don’t elaborate too much.” The Duros said. “We’ll go to Christophsis, I’ll use the Corellian Trade Spine on this one: We can get there faster that way, if you’re in a hurry.”

   “Thanks Newt,” She said and patted him on his blue head.

   “Don’t mention it,” Newt responded, smiling despite himself. “Buckle in now, we’re taking off.”   


Isskull Karniss crouched by the wounded slaver he had found close to the wreckage of an airspeeder on the Chandrilan countryside. He had taken the unconscious but still living man back to his ship for questioning, and had woke him up with a special concoction of drugs. Enough to dull the pain of the prisoner’s legs, yet not enough to make him uncompliant.

   “Now tell me again who you saw.” Isskull hissed.

   The Twi’lek slaver was tied to a chair with heavy adhesive tape. “I don’t know. Some bounty hunters I think.” Isskull’s intimidating reptilian presence seemed to scare any sense out of the prisoner, whose legs were broken from the fall he took.

   “What did they look like?”

   “Two humans and one alien,” The slaver continued, sweat dripping down his chin. “The alien was a Neimoidian I think; I only caught a quick glimpse.”

   “They made off with your councilor I take it?”

   “Yes. He’s been turned in to the authorities. Our business is ruined.”

   “Afraid so,” Isskull snarled. “You have any idea where the hunters went?”

   The slaver shook his head.

“Shame,” The Trandoshan hissed.

“I’ve told you what you wanted to know,” the slaver said, squirming. “Can I go now?”

   “With two broken legs?” The alien laughed; a terrible, croaking sound. “I’d like to see you try.”

   “Well can you take me somewhere, then?” The slaver shifted in his chair a bit, bringing more pain to his face. “I need to lie low for a while.”

   “Would that I could,” The Trandoshan came close and grinned toothily. “Now, that’s lie, because you see,” He lifted an ivory-hilted dagger from his belt. “I enjoy killing a lot.” He plunged the blade deep into the chest of the slaver, and pulled it out; smiling at the squelching sound it made. He licked the dark red arterial blood off the surface of the knife with his forked tongue and returned the blade to his sheath.

   Working his way to the cockpit of his ship, Isskull warmed up the navicomputer and radar surveillance systems. Currently orbiting Chandrila, he scanned the skies for any interesting ships leaving the planet. Before long, one caught his eye.

   “Departing Pursuer-class Enforcement ship . . .” He hissed to himself, he watched as the ship flickered into hyperspace. Studying the readout he came to a conclusion. The hyperspace trajectory suggested a jump rimward via the Corellian Trade Spine. He powered up the engines of his VT-49 transport and prepared to put in appropriate coordinates.


Fanfiction / Wolfbane: The Agrilat Enigma
« on: August 26, 2011, 08:22:29 PM »
Hey guys, been a while. Some of you may remember the fanfiction I wrote about that bounty hunter guy Fenris Harrow, and his friend Newt and how they went around doing bounty hunter stuff having adventures. If you don't then read this and you will! Well, after recently finishing a science-fiction writing class I decided to look back on what I wrote. I revised things, added things, switched things up, and present to you the first arc of the series: detailing the party's adventures in the Corellian sector, trying to take down the Agrilat Novas swoop gang. So here it is; new and improved. I've divided it up into three parts instead of a bunch of messy chapters. The reading may be a bit longer for some, but I feel the pacing is pretty quick. I also decided to add a cheesy, Star Wars-esque blurb/intro/premise just for the heck of it:

When former Corellian Security Operative FENRIS HARROW receives a call for aid from a former associate, the bounty hunter fears the task he is handed will dredge up long forgotten memories and emotions of a painful past. The AGRILAT NOVAS; a vile swoop gang making an insane profit on their very own death sport, lies hidden deep in the wilderness of Corellia’s swamps. It’s up to the bounty hunter and his long-time partner and friend, NEWT BANNISS to unravel the location of the group. Threats come from every angle; a conniving thief, a disgruntled artist, a mysterious assassin. Could even one of Fenris’ old flames be a threat? The unlikely heroes soon learn that nothing is true and nowhere is safe when in pursuit of THE AGRILAT ENIGMA. . . .

Dramatis Personae
[spoiler]Fenris Harrow: Bounty hunter; human male
Newt Banniss: Bounty hunter; Duros male
Vera Khoenhg: Corellian Security agent; human female
Gar Kolis: Corellian Security major; human male
Tegdim Fezil: Artist; Bimm/human male[/spoiler]
Part One
[spoiler]Corellia – The city of Coronet

Corellian Security Major Gar Kolis swirled the ale in his glass as he sat at the small corner table of a cantina named Skid’s Haven. The bar was in the seedier part of Coronet, and Gar kept a close eye on some of the patrons that drifted in and out of the entrance in various states of intoxication. He took a sip of the ale in his hand and made a mental note to see that CorSec watched this area more carefully, drunks had no place behind the wheel of a landspeeder.
His eyes drifted back to the main entrance and found the one he was looking to see. The man was tall and fairly skinny, clothed in a battered green leather flight jacket of Corellian design. The cinching belts on the front hung loose. He wore lengthy gray trousers and black spacer’s boots. His hips were adorned with a utility belt that had an additional clip for the holster that held a blaster pistol on the male’s right thigh. A small satchel sat low and to the back of his left leg. He looked young, middle to late twenty’s, but there was a certain look of experience in his eyes that told Gar this man had been through much more than it would first appear; which was undoubtedly true. The Corellian met Gar’s eyes and Gar gestured to the other seat at the table. The man walked over, pulled out the chair out and sat down.
“Hello, Fenris.” Gar began.
“Nice to see you again, Gar.” Fenris replied. He had unique rusty green eyes, and unruly brown hair with a tint of red in it. “Why don’t we get down to business quick, eh? I don’t have all the time in the world.”
“Is that really it?” Gar questioned. “There’s something more isn’t there?”
“There might be, but you’re the one who contacted me, so why don’t you stop asking questions, and start by telling me who you’re looking for.”
Gar sighed. “You’ve certainly gotten more difficult Fenris, ever since you picked up this ‘profession’.”
“It pays well, despite its difficulties.”
“Why don’t you come back to CorSec?” Gar asked, signaling for the bartender to bring another drink. The gruff and overweight man behind the counter huffed and prepared a glass. “With the Empire taking root here, we’re going to need more good and experienced men to keep the peace here on Corellia, and train the newcomers.”
“You know I can’t do that.” Fenris replied, taking the mug of ale the bartender delivered. “Not yet, at least.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Gar grumbled. “Don’t tell me you’re still after him.”
Fenris took a sip of the bronze ale, and looked up at Gar. He popped his eyebrows up smugly for a split second; his answer to Gar’s question.
“Fenris, Drevik is gone. He’s gone from Corellia, he’s vanished from the entire sector! None of my men were able to trace him down!” Gar calmed and took a swig. “All of his former associates are dead now. Give it up already.”
“Gone but not dead,” Fenris said. “I’ll take care of that part myself.” He set the glass down.
Gar sighed and propped his elbow on the flat table, he rested his forehead in the palm of his hand. “Look, I know how you feel. And if it was up to me I would kill every one of these damn criminals without a second thought too, but you have to look past their actions sometimes.”
Fenris crossed his arms and stared at his former mentor; listening yet at the same time seeming not to.
“But it’s not up to me, and it’s not up to you.” The major continued. “And sometimes, unbelievably, these men can change and atone for what they’ve done. I find it as appalling as you but if you go out and you find Drevik,” Gar lifted his mug again and peeked over the rim at Fenris as he took another drink. “You might stumble upon something you don’t want to.”
 “So what,” Fenris stated “Did you call me just to make another attempt to change my mind, or did I waste my time and money to travel back here?”
Gar sighed again and realized he would get nowhere with his questions. “Not just,” he said. “There is someone I want you to find.” He took out a datapad. The image displayed on its glowing viewscreen was of a rather thin, unhealthy-looking orange Nikto. “His name’s Willik Krump. It’s pretty much the same story. Illegal drugs, theft, extortion, but he’s got a connection to the Agrilat Novas.”
“Agrilat Novas?” Fenris asked.
“Another swoop gang,” Gar answered. “There was a void after you and your team took down the Moders. Unfortunately somebody felt inclined to fill it.”
“Swoopers are everywhere.” Fenris stated. “What makes this group any different?”
“They’ve taken over the previous racing business in the Agrilat swamps, and have been using it to partake in more illegal and dangerous activities.”
“Such as?”

“Death game derbies, which as you know are strictly illegal.”

“Can’t you just get the CSO to crash their business?” Fenris inquired.

“We’ve tried,” Gar hesitated “Only, the Novas are very mobile and highly organized, and the Agrilat Swamps cover an immense area, with thousands of unmapped caves and holes. We haven’t been able to nab them yet.”
“Well then,” Fenris expressed, returning to the subject of his expertise “So you want me to grab this guy for you?”
Gar nodded. “Just bring him back here alive. We should be able to get what we want out of him. And look out for other associates or important data files he might have.”
“Just upload what you want onto my ‘pad.” Fenris held out his own gunmetal grey datapad and switched it on. As it hummed to life the blue screen lit up. Gar stabbed a data chip from his vest pocket into a port on the side. After a confirmation beep he then removed the uploading device.
Fenris stood up and turned to leave, caught himself, and faced Gar again. “How much are we talking here?” He asked.
Gar stared at him. “About five thousand,” He shook his head and chuckled quietly. “Boy, you’ve turned into quite the mercenary; maybe I had the wrong idea trying to convince you to join Corellian Security again.”
“I’m sure you’ll keep trying.” Fenris said with a sad smile and with a final nod he started to depart.
“Hey, Fenris!” Gar called to him. The bounty hunter stopped. “If you help us out with this one, I might be able to set up something with the director. Maybe some funding so you can get to Drevik easier, if he really means that much to you. I can’t promise anything though.”
“Don’t worry about it Gar,” Fenris stood and said, nodding again before moving on.
Gar shook his head, sighed and took another sip of ale.

Outside Skid’s Haven

   Fenris stopped by the entrance of the cantina and took a cigarra out of his pouch. He used his lighter to ignite the small cylinder and lifted it to his mouth, inhaling the leafy aroma deeply.
Nice try Gar, he thought to himself. The sky over Coronet was gray, and rain poured down from above, splattering over the roof of the cantina and coating the road tiles of the city in a slightly reflective layer of water. He didn’t want to come back here; he hated feeling responsible for letting Gar down when he bailed. But after having no good business in weeks he was low on cash and gas, so he had to bite the bullet on this one.
Nobody was out walking today, and there were barely any speeders either. Fenris sighed, exhaling a warm cloud of smoke and trudged off towards the spaceport. Water sloshed around his booted heels as he walked alone on the streets, he was passing several badly maintained building when something brushed his hip. He turned to see what it was and saw a small hooded figure scampering around the block, a pouch in his hand. Fenris’ cigarra dropped from his mouth and he checked his belt. Sure enough his small satchel was missing. He gave chase to the thief, his feet splashing in the puddles in his way.
The pickpocket was fairly small, and the long strides of Fenris’ legs allowed him to catch up, although the slick ground made it more of a hassle than it should have been.

“Hey!” he yelled. The figure looked behind his shoulder for a split second, revealing the face of a young boy no more than twelve years old. But in doing so he ran himself straight into a fluorescent lamppost. There was a hollow clang as the boy collided with the pole and he fell to the ground with a splash. Fenris pounced on him, gripping the boy by his collar and hoisting him above the ground.
“Nice try, kid” Fenris hissed. “I’ll take my money back now.” He held open his hand.
The boy sighed, disappointed by the turn of events and handed Fenris back his pouch.
Fenris took the pouch in one hand, checked to make sure nothing had been taken and dropped the boy back onto the street.
“Lousy wagyx!” The pickpocket called after him as Fenris left the scene. The bounty hunter ignored the Corellian insult and continued heading towards the spaceport.
As he entered the circular structure his ship came into view; a MandalMotors Pursuer-class Enforcement Ship dubbed the Muzzle. The starboard loading ramp was down, and he passed into the ship easily. The doorway led into a large, flat storage area; on the left side of the long hallway were rows of various cells and an airlock. To get up to the bridge, he had to take a lift up past another level that held the lounge and galley, switch lifts, and ride up once more. Once in the cockpit, Fenris noticed where his copilot and partner, a blue-skinned Duros named Newt Baniss sat, his booted legs resting up on the dashboard, long-fingered hands fiddling with a small piece of electrical equipment that Fenris couldn’t identify.
Newt looked up as Fenris entered. “About time,” He said in his gurgled Durese accent “How’d it go?”
“Fine,” Fenris replied, as he passed the small, unoccupied navigation station.
Duros raised his heavy brow in question. “Are you sure? You seem a little . . . edgy.”
Fenris settled in the pilot’s seat and started turning on systems, and doing a preflight check. “Let’s just leave it.”
“Oh,” Newt nodded. “Dug up the past, huh?”
“Yep,” Fenris looked at Newt’s boots. “Get those down from there!” He shoved the Duros’ feet off the dashboard.
Newt grunted as his boots hit the floor. “So who are we after this time?”
Fenris tossed him his datapad. “No time to waste.” He said. “Let’s go.”
“Uh-huh,” Newt started, looking at the datapad. “Where exactly?”
“I have an idea.” Fenris powered up the repulsorlift and lifted off from the landing bay.
Newt turned on Fenris’ portable data device. “Y’know, it would be really helpful if you gave me a little more than I have an idea.” Newt looked at the datapad some more “Oh he sure looks charming. Willik Krump,” The Duros chuckled. “Funny name.”
“And Newt isn’t?”
“Not by Duros standards, no” Newt’s face stiffened. “But, point taken.” He glanced at the datapad again and threw it down on the dashboard beside him. “There are no recent leads on this guy, besides the theft of some Corellian flame miniatures a couple of months ago.”
Fenris steered the ship into the atmosphere and nodded. “The artist who made them resides on Gus Talon.”
“The moon?”
“That’s right; we’re headed there to ask the artist some questions.”
“Well, it’s as good a place to start as any, but it sounds like we’re going to be shooting in the dark on this one.”
Fenris reached for the controls of the ship and kicked in the sublight drive. The ship hummed loudly in response and sped for the moon at several thousand kilometers per hour.

“Hey, take over will you?” Fenris stood up from his seat and slapped Newt on the shoulder. “I need to give some of my equipment a look-over.”

“Sure.” Newt took the control yoke. “Not much else for me to do around here.” He muttered quietly.

Fenris went to the back of the cockpit and rode the lift down a level, to the second floor. He walked down the short corridor and entered the room at the far end, which had been converted into an armory. He pressed a button on the wall and one of the storage lockers hissed open to reveal several weapons and devices.

Fenris reached and took a few extra blaster power cells out of a charger. Checking the current charge on the SE-14 blaster pistol holstered on his hip, he realized it was half empty from the target practice he had done earlier today and switched it out with a new power pack, putting the old one into the charger. Next he took his Talon Vibroknife, and slipped it into the sheath on his right boot. He grabbed a few more items, including a stun baton, and a couple of bead-sized listening bugs that he could easily slip onto a target or into his ear to amplify hearing. A few more preparations and he was ready for the hunt.

He returned to the bridge, Newt was still absent-mindedly manning the controls of the Muzzle, staring ahead as Corellia’s moon loomed closer.

Fenris switched on the navigation station’s console and noted the times displayed on its screen. “We’ll be at Gus Talon in about thirty standard minutes,” He announced.

“Because I’m so obviously worried about our arrival time,” Newt retorted sarcastically, leaning back in the copilot’s seat lazily. Fenris sat in the seat next to him. “What spaceport should I land at?” the alien asked.

“Chirq. It’s where the artist lives.”

“What’s the artist’s name?”

“Tegdim Fezil, he makes flame miniatures.”

“And,” Newt looked at his partner, “How are we supposed to contact him?”

Fenris shrugged. “We’ll figure something out.”

Newt shook his head, “Details Fenris, details! Would it hurt to do some planning once in a while?”

“It might,” Fenris answered, feigning a wounded voice.

Newt sighed and adjusted course, the Muzzle had started to drift a bit. Half an hour later they were descending through Gus Talon’s atmosphere, the pressure and heat of their dive buffeted the ship’s heat shields. They finally came through the clouds, hovering over the world at an altitude of several hundred kilometers. The ground far below them was tan and savannah-like, with gently rolling hills that boasted dry, sage-green forests.

“Cutting in the repulsorlifts,” Newt announced, switching a lever. He looked back out the narrow viewport, squinting at something glittering in the distance. “Is that it?” he asked, indicating the shiny object as the Muzzle soared over the surface of Gus Talon.

Fenris checked the sensors and nodded. “That’s it.” The town was in a flat valley, surrounded by vast, square agricultural farmlands that eventually rose into hills and shallow mountains.

“Taking us in,”
The Muzzle pitched towards the town below and the repulsorlifts hummed a bit louder in response.

A bored voice came through on the comm. channel as they neared their destination. “Incoming MandalMotors ship, state your business and transmit I.D. transponder codes now.”

Fenris sent the data and spoke into the communication mic. “Purser-class Enforcement ship Muzzle, requesting to land.”

There was a second as the traffic controller checked over the transponder codes. “It all checks out Muzzle, land at docking bay forty-nine. Chirq control out.”

Fenris looked at Newt. “Take us down,”

Newt rolled his red eyes. “Right away captain,” he said, offering a mock salute before pulling the ship down into a descent pattern. He slowed down as they approached the sunken circle of the appropriate docking bay. The Muzzle lowered on its repulsors until its landing gear hit the ground.

“Now that that’s done,” Fenris said. “Let’s find us an artist.”

Fenris and Newt traversed through the dusty streets of the town of Chirq. A smaller establishment, nowhere near the size of the capital of Corellia; Coronet, Chirq was still civil compared to cities the duo had seen before. Squat buildings no more than three to five stories tall lined the streets, separated by skinny alleyways here and there.
The two bounty hunters walked on the sidewalks, avoiding the passing speeders and doing their best to avoid the glances of curious pedestrians. The town must not get many visitors sporting open weaponry, and Newt’s large DC-15S carbine seemed to draw attention. He had gotten it from a military surplus supplier once the weapon had outlived its usefulness. It was a relic from the past Clone Wars when the Duros had bought it, and he had to modify it extensively to get it back into prime condition. He now carried it in an oversized holster that lined the entire side of his right thigh.
Fenris kept looking at signs and advertisements, determined to find any sign of their initial target, the artist Tegdim Fezil. So far they had had no luck and decided to stop at a nearby tavern for a rest, the decision aided by Fenris’ growling stomach. They found a secluded booth to sit down, away from the eyes of wary patrons.
“Why doesn’t this artist guy have an address?” Newt grumbled; tapping his long, bulbous blue fingers on the table in impatience as the small meal they ordered was taking longer than usual to arrive.
“Probably doesn’t want people bothering him all the time, so he doesn’t list it everywhere he goes.” Fenris answered. “Simple really, lots of famous folks do it.”
Newt shrugged. “So what are we going to ask him?”
“Probably if he’s seen or heard of this Willik guy recently: Where and when, the usual. And you say I don’t make preparations.” He jabbed a finger at his blue partner.
Newt rolled his eyes as a Twi’lek waitress came up to their table and dropped a steaming plate of nerf steak on it. Fenris picked up a utensil and started lifting the sauce-slavered meat onto his own small plate. The waitress also left them the bill, which Newt snatched and looked at with a sneer.
“Quite a lot for a nerf steak,” He commented. “We better start hauling in some more cash or we’ll be in debt again.”
Fenris paused wolfing down his meal for a second and looked at his Duros partner. “What, for a steak?”
“For fuel,” Newt said, slapping the bill back on the table. “That MandalMotors isn’t cheap to run, you know.”
“That’s why we’re here, I have a hunch that we may get a hefty bounty by the end of this.” Fenris took a drink from his glass of water. “We’ll be fine.”
“You and your hunches,” Newt leaned back, crossing his arms.
“Not going to have some food?” Fenris asked.
Newt shook his head.
“More for me then,” Fenris took another bite. It wasn’t long before Fenris had finished his meal, paid the bill, and took to the streets again.
“You know, you really shouldn’t eat that fast,” Newt advised as they strolled down the sidewalk. “Someday you’re going to choke. Or vomit. Or both,”
“I’m a professional.” Fenris said as he patted his stomach. “I know what I’m doing.” Suddenly, something caught his eye. “You see that screen over there?” He pointed at a hovering viewscreen.
Newt nodded, he was looking at it too. Fenris could make out the shape of a small human with short orange hair and a wiry orange beard. “The one with the dwarf?” The Duros asked.
“That’s a flame miniature sculpture next to him, right?”
“Looks like it.”

 The glowing features of the small copper-haired man and his collection of glass sculptures were extremely bright. Below the man’s face were the words ‘Chirq art show, featuring Tegdim Fezil’s flame collection.’
“I think we’ve found our man.” Newt remarked.
Fenris nodded. “The art show’s at some casino a few blocks west of us. Let’s get moving.”
The casino was probably the most lavish building that could be found in Chirq. Apparently the art show was a big deal. Spotlights were lighting up the sky at its entrance as expensively dressed merchants and nobles entered and exited from shiny landspeeders.
“So, how are we getting in?” Newt asked.
Fenris bit his lower lip in thought. “They’re checking people at the door.” He pointed to a few security guards that looked over the credentials of nobles entering the casino. “Unfortunately, I think those guards may be local police, not CorSec. They’ll probably let us in, but it will be a lengthier process.”
“It’s worth a shot,” Newt suggested.
The two approached the front gateway; Fenris felt some stuffy nobles’ eyes on them as they passed people loitering on the parking rotunda. A line was forming at the entrance, and the bounty hunters began squeezing and shoving to the front of the line.
“Who invited that scum?” Fenris heard a noble mutter under his breath as he muscled his way past. He ignored the comment. As they came to the front of the line, the security sighed at the sight of them.

“What are you two ruffians doing?” He asked, before noticing the hunters’ weapons. His hand dropped to his side where the holstered pistol lay flat against his thigh. “I’m armed.” The security officer warned. His backup similarly groped their weapons. “Don’t try anything stupid.”

“Don’t worry, we’re not here to kill anybody,” Fenris reached into his pocket, an action that brought the security guards’ weapons up and aimed at Newt and his partner.  There was a gasp from the people behind them. “Easy friend,” Fenris lifted up a calming palm. “We’re with CorSec.”

“Anybody can say that,” the guard argued. “Show me some I.D.” His aim didn’t waver as he held out his hand to receive a card.

Fenris pulled his fingers out of his pocket. In them was his bounty hunters’ license, which had been updated with the information for the recent bounty. He slapped the flat card into the guard’s hand. He looked at it for a moment, snorted and handed it to another guard. “Bounty hunters, I should have figured.” His friend took out a datapad and swiped the card through it. Information lit the display. “What are you here for?” He asked.

“Pursuit of a bounty, not here,” Fenris added. “But we need to ask Mister Fezil some questions.”


“He has had a past experience with the criminal. We’re just looking for some information.”

The officer’s aide returned and handed Fenris back his license. “He checks out,” He said.

The guard hmphed and said, “Fine, let them in.”

“Thanks,” Fenris said, stepping past into the casino, much to the displeasure of the patrons in the line behind them.

“And try not to cause trouble, bounty hunter!” The officer called back at him. “Don’t take too long.”

“Don’t worry; we’ll be out before you know it.” Newt assured him.
The inside of the casino was red-carpeted and gold-furnished. Rich, yellow light bounced off of reflective door handles and tapestries. Slot machines and sabaac tables had been removed to make room for paintings, sculptures, and holographic displays. People walked around and about, quickly glancing at some displays of art or lingering at interesting pieces; trying to decode the subtle messages hidden within contorted figures and shapes.  As the two bounty hunters walked about, searching for Tegdim or his signature glass sculptures, patrons stared in amazement at the two, or stared daggers at them as they passed by.

“How about we take that security guard’s advice and get out of here quick.” Newt turned his head closer so he could whisper, “These expensive types remind me like a circling pack of firaxa . . .”
“Agreed,” Fenris nodded “Let’s see if we can spy our man.”
The casino’s main gallery wasn’t too large, and it was just a short matter of time before they spotted a large crowd gathered around a small stage. A large display screen revealed a close-up of a swirling formation of glass, tinted pink and resembling a crackling flame from a distance. As Fenris and Newt moved closer however, it began to look more and more like an abstract form of a dancing female. Or was it still a flame? The sculpture seemed to evoke images of both.
The two bounty hunters neared the crowd, and the expensively-dressed viewers began parting to let them through, gasping as they beheld the bounty hunters and their weapons.
As they reached the front, they found Tegdim. He was a squat human, possibly a Bimm, standing at waist-height, with a potbelly and scraggly orange hair that ringed his jaw and a small portion of his round head. He was in the middle of describing his glass sculpture, which was astonishingly no larger than Fenris’ hand when not enlarged by the display’s camera. He looked up and frowned for a second before breaking into a cheery grin.
“It seems I have a pair of very devoted fans.” He said in a squeaky, aged voice. He then took out a small communicator, “Security, I have two beings here that . . .”
Fenris stopped him. “No need to do that Fezil, we’ve already been cleared.”
“You have, have you?” He asked, staring skeptically up at the bounty hunter. “And what is it that you want?” He put the communicator away though.
“We’d like to ask you some questions.” Fenris said.
“Bah!” The artist exclaimed with a wave of his hand. “More interviewers, can’t I have some time to explain my work to the masses?”
“We’re not reporters.” The Corellian said. “We’re with CorSec, working to apprehend a fugitive.” It wasn’t entirely the truth, but it wasn’t entirely a lie either.
“Oh,” Tegdim Fezil exclaimed, lips pursing before smiling again. “Well, I’ve never been ignorant of justice, in fact there is a piece over here . . .” He gestured to a wavy green sculpture that Fenris didn’t have the patience to examine further.
“Your art is very commendable,” Fenris gushed falsely, “But we really need to ask you some questions about Willik Krump.”
“Oh that fellow,” Tegdim sighed. “How urgent are these questions?”
“Extremely,” Newt butted in, fed up with the artist’s averting personality.
“Very well, what would you like to know?”
“The exact encounter you had with him.”
Tegdim sighed. “Is there a better time?” He squeaked.
“No.” Newt said bluntly. “We kind of want to get moving . . .”
“Well,” the small man started “I was in my studio. It’s on the outskirts, on one of the hills right by the Smit Brothers’ farm. Something about being elevated helps me in my work. I was working on this piece here;” He pointed to a circular blue swirl adjacent to the green one he showed Fenris earlier. “I had started to doze off; it was late in the evening. A sudden chill woke me up, and I could smell the outdoors. It suddenly stopped and I heard my door hiss closed.”
“So Willik Krump just walked in?” Fenris asked.
“My studio doesn’t have the most sophisticated of security systems, it’s true,” Tegdim said. “But Willik wasn’t a particularly violent or brutish thief. I caught sight of him sneaking out the back. He was small and skinny and ran into the surrounding forest.”
“Did you notice any escaping vehicles at all?”
He shook his head. “None, didn’t hear anything either. It was night, mind you.”
“Do you have any idea where he might have gone?” Newt inquired.

“If I did I would have told the police about it already.” The artist was clearly finished with the questions. “Are we done here? My patrons are growing impatient.”
“Yeah, we’re done.” Fenris said.
Tegdim promptly waddled back to his pieces and apologized to his audience for the interference.
“Boy, I feel so enlightened.” Newt commented. “That certainly was a waste of time.”
“Not entirely. We know where his studio is.”
“Yeah, in the middle of nowhere,”
“Come on Newt,” Fenris smiled. “He works in a secluded cabin on a hill by the Smit Brothers’ farm on the outskirts of town. How many places like that could there possible be?”
Newt pursed his blue lips. “Still, I don’t know how much help that would be. He said he has an outdated security system and that he didn’t notice or see anything the night he was robbed.”
“But he does have a security system. It’s possible that he overlooked something, or that it was tampered with by Willik.”
The Duros opened his mouth as if to offer an argument, but stopped. “Not bad,” he shrugged. “Shall we go?”

It took several hours to reach Tegdim’s cabin. It wasn’t hard to find, but when Tegdim mentioned on the outskirts he really meant on the outskirts. It did indeed rest upon the crest of a large hill overlooking farmland and the city. There weren’t any other houses nearby, and far at the farmland at the bottom of the hill nerfs grazed in the darkness of night. Fenris and Newt had rented a speeder and drove to the edge of the artist’s street and then walked the rest of the way. It was a busy week for Tegdim, so he had probably opted to rent a hotel down in Chirq, and would not bother coming to his studio.
They journeyed through a small and obviously tailored forest, and as the artist’s studio came into view they noticed something was up.
“The door’s open.” Newt observed.
“Yeah, I can see . . .” Fenris replied quietly. He drew his SE-14 sidearm and powered it up. “Maybe Willik has come back for more.”
Newt pulled out his modified DC-15S. Together, they crept silently to the door. “I can hear someone inside,” The Duros whispered. Sure enough, a frantic rustling could be escaped out the front.
“We go in together,” Fenris said, holding up his hand with three fingers extended. When the last finger fell, they entered the cabin together. The first room was a dark, long, and wood-floored hallway. It was clear of any intruders. The rustling and moving echoed down it.
Fenris saw Newt’s big reflective eyes narrow. He gestured to a door on the left side of the hallway. Fenris nodded and they crept forward, weapons raised. They neared the edge of the door and the thief could be heard more clearly in the room beyond. The Corellian bounty hunter did another countdown and they burst into the room.
“Stand down and put your hands up!” Fenris yelled.
“Or we will shoot you!” Newt added and flicked on the flashlight attachment of his rifle, shining it directly into the thief’s masked face.
The thief dropped a small bag and covered his eyes with his arm, stumbling backwards and falling onto a table decorated with glass sculptures. They shattered underneath him and the robber cried out in pain. Fenris moved forward and ripped off the cloth facemask. Willik Krump’s orange-lidded eyes squinted back at him.
“You’re under arrest, Krump.” Fenris said, taking out his stun baton and activated it. “Now, are you going to come quietly or am I going to have to use this?”
The alien was preparing to stay something when a high pitched voice exclaimed from behind them; “What’s going on here?”
Both Fenris and Newt turned back to look at the intruder, an act that gave Willik enough time to drop something small and metallic onto the ground. Fenris recognized the artist Tegdim Fezil just before a blinding white light and concussive blast shook the house. He felt himself fall, and heard nothing but the ringing of his ear drums.
Minutes later, his vision cleared and he sat up, head aching and hearing not much more than seemingly distant echoes. Newt and Tegdim were both lying on the ground, and Willik was nowhere in sight. Fenris rushed over to his Duros partner and shook him awake. The alien rubbed his head and asked what happened.

“Flashbomb,” Fenris answered, his hearing returning to him. “Willik got away.” The Corellian strode over to Tegdim as the small man was recovering. He grabbed him by the cuff of his suit and hoisted him up off the ground.

“What the hell were you doing?” Fenris yelled.

Tegdim shook his head, “I don’t . . .”

“The bastard got away!” Fenris shook him again. “All because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.”

“Fenris,” Newt said sternly “Let him down. It’s not his fault.” The alien got to his feet. “Three strangers in his house and what do you expect him to do?”

Fenris tightened his jaw and dropped the sculpture artist. “Sorry,” He apologized.

Tegdim stared in astonishment at his studio. “My work,” He exclaimed, noticing his broken glass. “I want you both out of this house, now!”

Newt held up his hand, looking intently at something on the ground. “Not just yet, Fezil.”

“What is it, Newt?” his Corellian partner asked.

Newt pointed at a small rectangle of flimsiplast on the ground. Fenris knelt to pick it up. He read it out loud. “Slice Hound cantina offers the most exotic food, beverages, and females from around the galaxy: Location 538 Eharl way, Malshlek.” Fenris turned the card and showed it to Tegdim. “This yours?” he asked the artist.

The small man seemed appalled by the mere notion. “Of course not! I have never been to such a place in my life.”

“Malshlek isn’t far,” Newt recalled.

“Willik may have headed there.” Fenris agreed. “It’s lucky of him to have dropped this, unless our short friend here is lying.” He looked at the artist.

“Are you finished yet?” Tegdim asked, infuriated.

“Yep, we’re finished.” Fenris said, patting the dwarf on the top of his orange-haired head. “Thanks for your help.”

“No thanks for yours . . .” Tegdim Fezil muttered under his breath.

Fenris ignored the comment, “Come on, Newt.” He called.

Newt nodded at Tegdim. “Sorry about the mess,” he said.

Tegdim dismissed the apology with an angry wave of his hand. The bounty hunter duo took the hint and promptly left the studio and returned to their speeder.

“There it is,” Newt stated and indicated a small spaceport below as their rented speeder soared over the surface of Doaba Guerfel. The town of Malshlek was on the coastline of one of the moon’s small, salty seas and as the sun rised, it glittered over the golden water. The settlement was supposedly where the Slice Hound cantina was located. “Taking us in,”
The speeder pitched towards the town below and the repulsorlifts hummed a bit louder in response. They parked in a lot at the side of one of the tiny spaceports of the city, and stayed inside, where they could carefully observe incoming and outgoing traffic. The city was grimy and downtrodden; every person who passed by them on the significantly unpopulated street seemed to have a look of desperation about them.

   “Cheerful place,” Newt finally commented after a few minutes as he noticed a group of young adults squatting by some abandoned crates on the far side of the avenue. The distinct smoke of carabbaba tabac wafted around them as they indulged themselves in the intoxicant. “Looks like the drug trafficking has left its mark.”

   Fenris lit a cigarra of his own and lifted it to his mouth. He mumbled in agreement.
   “Really?” Newt asked, incredulous. “In here?”

   The Corellian looked at him. “What?” he asked.

   “What do you think? We’re in a small, close-cabined speeder and you’re smoking!”

   “If you have a problem, open the window.”

   Newt obliged and pressed a small activation stud in the side of the speeder door. The window rolled down and the stench of the city wafted in.

   Newt coughed and rolled the window back up. “Never mind, I think I’d prefer smelling you. It stinks out there. You humans are lucky that you can cover your olfactory sensors so easily.”
   Fenris chuckled and glanced at the rearview camera. He stopped laughing abruptly.

   “What is it?” Newt whispered, curious.

   Fenris pointed at the speeder’s viewscreen. “There he is.” He indicated a repulsor craft on the other side of the lot, and right at one definitive Willik Krump, emerging from the vehicle.

Two fairly more bulkier bodyguards; one a snarling Trandoshan, the other a muscular Skrilling - which Fenris had noticed earlier – stood up from the bench they were sitting on and strode to meet with Willik. They exchanged words for a moment and then began moving down the street, the Trandoshan and the Skrilling flanking the Nikto.

   “Look at that bastard.” Newt noted as the trio ambled towards an intersection.

   “It looks like he feels pretty confident with tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum there.” Fenris whispered. “I thought he would be a little more skittery; he doesn’t seem like a very bold person.”

   “Well, he did rob that dwarf’s house twice, and dumped a flashbomb on us.” Newt reminded him. “So are we going to nab him or what?” The Duros asked anxiously.

   Fenris shook his head. “We follow him and wait. Willik probably isn’t the only player at this.” Fenris said, turning to Newt. “If we can find another contact for CorSec we might be able to get a bonus.” He turned back to the street. “Or another bounty, with a bonus,”

   Newt sighed. “Well, we better move then or we’ll lose him. Again,”

   Fenris nodded his agreement. “Yep,” Willik and his bodyguards passed around the corner, out of sight. “Let’s go,” Fenris said and he exited the speeder.

   The deserted streets made it difficult for the bounty hunters to follow the trio. Every so often Willik would turn and look behind him, and Fenris and Newt would have to find someone or something to hide behind or attempt to interact with inconspicuously. Though if the thief saw them, he either didn’t recognize them, or had something else planned, because he never quickened his pace or spontaneously changed directions.

 Five minutes passed before Fenris and Newt noticed Willik walk up to the entryway of a brightly advertised cantina. The holo-board had the image of a slice hound being groped by a half-naked Corellian girl holding a martini. A muscular Human bouncer that stood guard by the door; He let Willik and the two bodyguards in without as much as a second glance.

   “Private party,” Fenris noted. “It must be invitation only.”

   “I don’t think there’s a back door,” Newt said, “The building is right up against that other one, no alleyway in between.”

   “We’ll have to try the direct approach then.” Fenris replied, moving towards the cantina. “Here goes nothing.”

   The bouncer noticed them and held up a hand, stopping then. “Private party,” He said in a deep voice, confirming Fenris’ suspicions. “Invitation only,”
   Fenris reached into his pocket and held out a credit chip. “How about you let us in, we’re interested in a job opening one of the attendees has.”
   The bouncer crossed his arms and chuckled. “Are you another group of pathetic youngsters?”

   “Now I wouldn’t say pathetic . . .” Fenris began.

   The bouncer obviously had already had enough; his face turned violent. “Look, punk. We don’t need anyone else.” He said stepping closer. “Now if I were you, I’d get your lousy wagyx out of here and forget anything and everything you’ve heard about us. Or so help me I will snap your skinny spines in two.”

   Fenris stepped back and put his hands up in a simple gesture of nonviolence. “Hey, now I’m sure we can . . .”

   The bouncer growled and lunged forward as if to grab the bounty hunter by the collar and them back on the street, but Fenris’ outstretched hands intercepted the grab. With a flick of his wrists, he sent the bouncer’s approaching arms out wide to the attacker’s sides. He then reached forward and cupped his hands around the back of the bouncer’s neck. Fenris pulled down, bringing the attacker’s head lower and lunged upward with his leg. His knee connected with the man’s face and there was a definitive crack as something broke. The man fell limp and toppled to the ground, bleeding profusely from the nose.

   Newt stood by, mouth agape. “Fenris!”

   Fenris reached down to grab the unconscious man. “Sorry about that: Reaction.”

   The few passing bystanders didn’t look too concerned, or they fled quickly; apparently they saw similar things day-to-day.

   Fenris grunted as he attempted to lift the man. “Hey, help me out with this fella,”

   Newt knelt down and assisted in carrying the bouncer to a nearby dumspter. They stuffed him in it and closed the lid.
   “It should be a while before he wakes up.” Fenris said, wiping his brow.

   “Well, there goes are cover.” Newt observed.
“Maybe,” the other bounty hunter said “Probably. Still, we can make this work.”

   “How exactly?” Newt questioned. “By barging in there and making a show of it?”

   Fenris smiled a toothy grin. “You see any alternatives?”
   Newt shrugged. “Not really, no.”

   “Then we go with plan A.”

Fenris and Newt stepped into the club. They tried at first to remain inconspicuous, but it soon became apparent that all the other patrons were either too intoxicated to notice anything unfamiliar about the pair, or too distracted by the clusters of scantily clad female dancers.

   “Colorful place,” Newt noted, eyes scanning a pair of Twi’lek dancers atop a table.

   “Yeah,” Fenris acknowledged. “Keep your eyes open.”

   “Oh, they’re open alright.” Newt said, grinning maliciously.

   Fenris slugged him in the shoulder. “I mean keep your eyes open for trouble.”

   “I know,” Newt assured him, rubbing his sore arm. “Don’t worry.”

The bounty hunters scanned the room for any sign of Willik or his bodyguards. The flashing lights and booming bass of the music made it difficult to spot anyone. Eventually, some movement in one of the corners of the club attracted Fenris’ attention. He tapped Newt on the shoulder.

   The Duros winced. “What’s up?” he asked.

Fenris pointed to a door in the far back of the cantina that began to slide closed. The Trandoshan and the Skrilling flanked it, arms crossed.

   “There are our two friends.”

   “Is Willik inside?” Newt asked.

   “Probably, I don’t see him out here.” Fenris bit his lower lip. “Now, how we get in there is the question.”

   “I thought you were the one who wanted to crash this party?”

   Fenris shrugged. “Change of mood.”

   “You’re incredibly indecisive.”

   “Keeps it interesting,”

   At that moment Fenris felt something brush up against his back. A voice whispered in his ear, “I like interesting”

   Fenris jumped slightly and turned to face a somewhat attractive human female. She held a half drained glass of ale in one hand, and she brushed away her red hair with another, putting on an irresistible smile.

   “Oh. Hey there,” Fenris said, grinning sheepishly.

   The woman bit her lower lip. “Hey back.” She stepped closer and put her arms around Fenris and began stroking his shoulder. “So are we gonna waste time here talking?”

   Newt scoffed “So it’s alright for you, huh Fenris?”

   Fenris elbowed his partner. The Corellian tilted his head slightly. “Say again?”

   “I know what you want.” The woman whispered; Fenris smelt ale and smoke from her breath. “You wanna give it a go?”

   An idea struck Fenris. “Um . . . maybe some other time, but back over there is a pal of mine,” He pointed to the guarded door. “That would absolutely love your company.”

   The lady squinted in that direction. “I don’t see him.”

   “He’s the Skrilling; big, tall, muscular . . . blue.” Fenris added. “You can’t miss him.”

   The woman turned back to Fenris and stroked him some more. “But I’m not into Skrillings, babe. I’m into you.”

   “I bet tons of guys hear that one.” Fenris heard Newt mutter from behind him.

   The girl stared daggers at the Duros “What was that you said, bug-eyes?”

   “Ignore him,” Fenris recovered. “Well, you see, my blue friend – the Skrilling, not the rude one – I owe him a favor and he tends to get quite a bit . . . upset when debts aren’t paid so you wouldn’t mind entertaining him for me, would you?”

   The woman frowned, stepped back and held out her hand.

   Fenris raised an eyebrow.

   “Fifteen,” The lady demanded.

   The bounty hunter grimaced, reached into his pocket and took out a credit chit. He handed it to her.

   She turned briskly and stomped off. A minute later Newt and Fenris saw her lead the Skrilling by the hand into a nearby booth.

   “Smooth.” Newt noted.

   “Would’ve been smoother if it weren’t for you,” Fenris scanned the room for ways to eliminate the Trandoshan. He had no intention of getting in a brawl with the alien. The lizards can be vicious in close quarters, Fenris knew that from experience. He soon noticed a group of patrons loitering about five meters to the right of the bodyguard. Apparently Newt noticed them too.

   “That group seems pretty wasted.” Newt observed.

   “I know,” Fenris answered. “I think I could cause one to stumble into the Trandoshan. And you know how angry they get when someone bumps into them.”
“Right, that was on Gargon. I remember. You stepped on the toe of one.”

   Fenris growled at his partner. “Yeah, don’t remind me.” He returned to the subject of the Trandoshan “Hopefully those drunks can distract him long enough to sneak through the door. I don’t see any lock mechanism on it.”

   “Then what are we waiting for?”

   The two bounty hunters moved through the crowd towards the group. Fenris grabbed a martini glass from a serving droid on the way and took a few sips. Newt did the same. As he neared the intoxicated patrons Fenris put a definitive swagger into his walk and stumbled close to them.

   “Hey guysh,” he slurred “Whatsha up to?” Fenris feigned a trip and then ran into a member of the group. He flung his hand out at the last second and pushed another perfectly into the path of the Trandoshan.
   The patron fell onto his knees below the Trandoshan and seemed to have trouble getting up. He then vomited onto the bare feet of the alien (Trandoshans can’t really wear boots) and the lizard hissed in rage. The reptile grabbed the drunk by the throat and flung him on top of the table.

   The two bounty hunters didn’t stay to watch the rest; they quietly snuck into the door the Trandoshan used to be guarding. They closed it silently behind them, and nodded to each other.

   They must have been in some sort of storeroom because lining the walls of the concrete corridor were boxes and shelves loaded with all sorts of liquors, ales, and whiskeys.

   One box was labeled to have come from Nubia, but revealed inside were several coolers of Alderaanian vintage. “The smugglers have definitely been through here.” Fenris whispered.

   As they neared the end of the hall they began to hear voices. Fenris signaled for Newt to slow down and they crept closer. The walls of the storeroom distorted the voices however, and Fenris pulled out a sound amplification device and slipped it into his ear.

   “I swear, boss.” One nervous voice said. “I think they’re onto us.”

   Another, this one deeper yet commanding spoke; “You took precautions didn’t you?”

“Of course, but it’s just… I don’t know how they found us out, but they’ve been sniffing around and must have figured something.”

   “I thought you got away clean.”

   “I did! I swear!”

“If you’re lying . . .”

“Calm down, Yuri,” a third voice; cool and calculating interjected “those parts were highly illegal and modified, it must have been pretty obvious for them to find out what we wanted them for.”

   “How close have they come?”

   “They’ve . . .” Willik paused. “They’ve locked down most of Nubia.”

   “Sithspit! They’re right on our tails!”

   “Ajax may have to move shop.” The calm voice suggested. “Black Sun is not our only problem; the Empire’s bound to come down on us as well, along with CorSec.”

   “CorSec is blind, Nyoka.” The deep voice said. “They’ve lost a lot of their personnel and they’re losing money every day. They’re little more than the Empire’s pawn.”

   “It would still be a wise decision.”

   “We’ll consider it, but I still believe our friend here didn’t get away as clean as he thought.”

Fenris heard the sound of a charging pistol.

   “Do what you want with the Nikto, I better report to Ajax.” The calm voice – Nyoka – stated and there was the sound of a chair scooting across the floor.

   Newt whispered to Fenris. “These guys are serious, we better make our move soon, or our bounty goes up in smoke. Literally”

   Fenris nodded and drew a Merr-Sonn LXR-6 concussion grenade out of his pocket. He armed it after removing his listening earpieces and tossed the grenade around the corner of the hallway. It landed with a metallic clink and the conspirators’ gasped in confusion before a dull thud echoed down the corridor and shook the walls.

   Fenris and Newt rushed into the room, weapons drawn and found two figures lying face down on the floor, unconscious. One was Willik, the other was a heavily set and grey bearded man who was dressed rather elaborately. The third conspirator, Fenris noticed, was missing. He looked around for any sign of the other. There was no evidence whatsoever.

   Newt shrugged. “Well, we got what we came for,” he said, gesturing at Willik. “And then some.” He nudged the body of the other man.

   “Guess you’re right, let’s bind them up and then find the exit out of this place.”

   Then they heard the door they entered through being opened. It echoed from down the hallway where the two bounty hunters had entered. Heavy footsteps soon followed.

   Fenris looked at Newt, wide-eyed. They both armed their blasters and turned to face the Trandoshan that now towered over them. It gave a snarl and pounced.
The bounty hunters got off a few startled shots at the alien (each one missing the target) before it plowed into them. Newt was flung to the far side of the room by the lizard’s arm and hit a shelf full of various alcoholic concoctions, their contents spilling from the now shattered bottles.

Fenris, on the other hand, fell to the floor as the Trandoshan knocked into him. He coughed, trying to get a breath after getting his lungs jostled. His opponent raised a clawed foot, prepared to stomp the bounty hunter into an unrecognizable pulp. Fenris rolled away at the last second; the Trandoshan’s meaty leg came down, fracturing the tiled floor beneath the heel.

Fenris stumbled to his feet and grabbed the corner of a nearby crate to steady himself. He gasped for more air, but soon had to duck as the Trandoshan’s muscular arm swung at him. This caused him to lose his balance again and he fell to one knee.

His breath suddenly returned to him and he quickly stood up, only to have a massive, scaly claw clasp around his throat and lift him a foot or two off the floor. He was slammed against the wall by the reptile and the alien’s foul breath entered his nostrils as the Trandoshan prepared its parting speech. “I sssnap your puny neck like toothpick, human,” the alien hissed between sharp carnivorous teeth.

Fenris started to mutter something, but the pressure on his throat increased and only some indecipherable guttural sounds escaped.

The Trandoshan clicked his throat with pleasure, and clenched his fist tighter around the bounty hunter’s neck. A black tunnel began to enclose Fenris’ vision, sparkles of red, blue and yellow danced before his eyes. Then, a bright blue flash and a blaster discharge echoed inside the room, and the alien’s eyes rolled into the back of its head. Fenris was suddenly released and toppled to the floor along with the alien.

He coughed and gasped, never was he so happy to feel air filling his lungs again, even if it was dirty and reeked of alcohol, tabac, and tibanna gas.

Newt stood triumphantly over the Trandoshan’s body, modified DC-15S smoking in one hand. “That’s two you owe me Fenris,” the Duros said as he helped his fellow to his feet. “I should start keeping you away from Trandoshans, you seem to always get into trouble with them.”

Fenris rubbed his sore throat. “Yeah, I guess we do have quite a history, don’t we?” He picked up the pistol he had dropped. “Thanks. Again,”

Newt shrugged. “Just don’t make it a habit please?”

“Shoot to kill eh?” Fenris remarked, seeing the smoking blaster hole in the Trandoshan’s back, right where its heart would be.

“I had a feeling that a stun blast wouldn’t have much of an effect on this guy; not quick enough, at least.”

“Well, let’s wrap up our little present for CorSec,” Fenris said, kneeling over the unconscious body of Willik Krump. “And his friend,”

They soon had the two criminals bonded at the wrists and ankles. Newt stood up after finishing a knot on Willik.

“House call,” Fenris told him and took a small datapad communicator out of his pocket and called Gar Kolis. After a few seconds, the man’s face was displayed on the screen. “Hey Gar, it’s Fenris.”

“Good news, I hope?” Gar questioned. He looked wearier every day.

“Yes, we’ve apprehended Willik and one of his conspirators.” Fenris tilted the video capture unit so that it displayed the two unconscious bodies on the floor. “Only one casualty, a Trandoshan bodyguard tried to take a swipe at us.”

“Trandoshans again, Fenris?”

The bounty hunter grimaced. “Yes, I know Gar. My partner is still giving me an earful about it.”

Newt protested from behind him. “Hey, I’ve had my fun, I’m done now!”

“Anyway,” Fenris continued. “We’ve also identified the shadowport you were looking for on Gus Talon.”

“Did you now?”

“Yes. It’s a cantina known as the Slice Hound. There’s loads of contraband in the back rooms.”

“I’ll get a couple SOC squads to shut the place down,” Gar said motioning to someone on the other side of him. “Excellent work Fenris.”

“Excellent work is often rewarded is it not?” the bounty hunter flashed a grin for emphasis.

Gar sighed. “Of course, you’ll be rewarded a bonus for your efforts. Sit tight for a while, I’ll be there soon.”

“Don’t worry, we’re not going anywhere.”


It didn’t take long for Gar and the fifteen-man squad of CorSec Special Operations Commandos to arrive at the cantina and apprehend everyone within. The entry was quick; tear-gas, stun batons, and riot rifles took care of those who decided to resist the attempts to bind them.

Gar Kolis entered the storeroom, wearing a dark olive trenchcoat and strode towards Fenris and Newt. He looked down at Willik and his fellow conspirator, both who were now fully awake. “Well, well, well.” The CorSec inspector began, noticing the larger man next to Willik. “Yuri Murells, I didn’t know you were still in the smuggling game.”

Yuri mumbled some incoherent sentence from beneath the strip of adhesive that covered his mouth.

“Oh, we’ll have plenty to talk about back at HQ, Yuri.” Gar noticed the dead Trandoshan. “That the muscle who tried to kill you?” He asked Fenris.

“Yep,” Fenris lit another cigarra and lifted it to his mouth.

“Nasty fella,” Gar remarked. “We’ll do an I.D. later. Anybody else we should know about?”

Fenris took the cigarra out of his mouth and exhaled a cloud, “A man named Nyoka may have gotten away.”

“You don’t say . . . any idea who this Nyoka is?”

Fenris shook his head. “Didn’t get a visual, but I think he had left before we took down these two.” He gestured at Willik and Bravik.

“That’s not good news.” Gar sighed. “He might have gotten word back to whoever is leading this thing.”

“Well, if they’re promoting swoop death games in the Agrilat swamps, that’s probably where they are.” Newt suggested

“That doesn’t make it any easier, as I said earlier; the Agrilat swamps cover more than fifteen-hundred square kilometers. Finding their hideout would still take some time.”

   “Hmm,” Fenris considered. “Well, I’ll drop by CorSec tomorrow. We can sort things out with my account from there.”

   “Okay, I’ll see you then.”
“Come on, Newt.” Fenris motioned to his fellow bounty hunter. They left the cantina. It was now surrounded by patrol speeders flashing their neon alarm lights and CorSec personnel escorting prisoners into transport skiffs.

   “Another successful bounty in the bag, eh?” Newt asked as they strode towards their ship.

   “Yep,” Fenris tossed his now withered cigarra into a garbage bin as they strode towards the docking port.

   “And then . . .” Newt began.

   “Back to finding another lead on Drevik hopefully,”

   Newt sighed. “Will you never let it be, Fenris? We’ve wasted so much money on that wild goose chase, if he’s out there somewhere we’re never going to be able to find him.”

   “Have you forgotten what he’s taken from me?” Fenris asked, menace in his voice. “When I heard he escaped Kessel, I feared the worse. He knew where my family lived.”

   Newt was silent.

   “And then he and his gang burned my house to the ground, and suddenly my parents vanish.”

   “Your sister is still around, isn’t she?”

   “I have no idea where she is, she left years ago. Left the home when I was only fifteen, if I ever find her again, we’ll have to talk. But Drevik is first.”

   “Okay,” Newt paused and turned to the other bounty hunter. “Just remember, I didn’t join you for your revenge quest, partner, it’s not all about you. I know what Drevik did was terrible, but you’re going to run us dry if you keep this insane chase up.”

   Fenris didn’t say anything for a long time. They continued on their way in silence. Suddenly he spoke up. “Okay, we’ll lay off the chase for a while. Focus on building up savings first.”

   “That’s what I like to hear.” The Duros said with a smile. They had reached the docking bay and Newt remotely opened the boarding ramp of the ship. “More money is good money.”

   They strode up the gangplank and entered the Muzzle. The two bounty hunters took the turbolift to the cockpit. Newt began powering the ship and before long they were off, headed back for Corellia.[/spoiler]

Author's Commentary
[spoiler]The idea for Tegdim was quite silly actually. In an issue of the Star Wars Tales comic books, in a short story called Lucky: The Curse of Wedge Antilles (which the majority of the story takes place on the moon of Gus Talon) there’s this weird little short guy in a few panels who is pushing around this little cart full of glass sculptures. There’s actually a wookiepedia article for him:
He’s listed as “unidentified street vendor”.  He was the inspiration, and the glass sculptures became Corellian Flame Miniatures, mentioned by Grand Admiral Thrawn in Dark Force Rising. As for the name Tegdim, it’s pretty lazy and unoriginal of me. You can figure it out for yourself. (Actually don’t, it’s really bad).[/spoiler]

General Star Wars / Possible Open-world Star Wars RPG??
« on: August 23, 2011, 09:40:29 PM »
What is this? Lucasfilm/Arts recruiting for "Gameplay-engineer (Open-world RPG)"???

More newsy stuff here:

Off-topic & Chat / Avatar: The Legend of Korra
« on: July 23, 2011, 11:05:17 PM »
Remember that show Avatar: The Last Airbender?

Remember how it was awesome and totally rocked?

Well, its back:

There are new things of course. It's like 70 years after the original show. There's a new protaganist: An Avatar from the Southern Water Tribe named Korra. There's a new Republic City thing, which is like a city where all the benders and nations coexist semi-peacefully, created by Aang and Zuko back in the day.

And the new big baddie is some anti-bending revolutionary guy.

Sounds (and looks) crazy.

Non-Star Wars Fiction / Pugetpocalypse
« on: May 30, 2011, 10:12:16 PM »

Just a lil' somethin-somethin I'm trying out

     Remember when you were a kid, and you joked around about stuff that you would think never would happen? Things like contact with extraterrestrial life, world war three, the last season of American Idol. I mean, really; Simon’s gone so there’s no real point of watching. Plus, the show has run its race, paid its dues, and jumped the shark. Who even watches it anymore? But yeah, joking about things like judgment day and, heaven forbid, the zombie apocalypse.

     Well, surprise.
     I don’t know how it happened. I don’t know exactly when it happened. All I knew was that all of a sudden, people went apeshit crazy and started eating each other. Where was I? I was on an A.P. Environmental Science field trip with my class up to the San Juan Islands. We were planning on staying a few days up on Orcas Island, observing . . . well, the environment.

     We got off the ferry well enough. Things at the port seemed awfully quiet, though. Still, we headed up on a bus to the park where we would be lodging. We had to stop midway though, because Mr. Large’s (Yes, his name was Mr. Large) spastic colon started acting up. He wandered off into the shrubbery by the road and didn’t come back. Actually, part of him came back. I think it was his intestine dangling from the mouth of some vest-clad outdoorsman. Needless to say, the bus driver booked us out of there. We had to head up to camp though, couldn’t go back to the port. Have you ever tried to make a school bus do a U-turn on a crappy off-road trail? Not easy. Our driver, who was old and not the least bit healthy, had some heart attack or stroke or something and he died before we could get anywhere. Pretty quick too, all the sudden he just sagged on top of the steering wheel.

     You know those little safety talks that bus drivers give you before you start the trip? Like what to do if something happens to the driver, or if the bus turns on its side, and where to find the body fluid cleanup kit? Then you also know how nobody ever listens to those. Needless to say, the bus careened off the road and wedged itself in between a couple of trees.
So here we are, here I am. Reid Robertson Harrow. Stuck in a crashed bus with a bunch of crazy teenagers and a potential zombie apocalypse and not the faintest idea of what’s going on or what to do.

That's just great.

General Star Wars / MC Chris and his Star Wars songs
« on: December 15, 2010, 08:36:33 PM »
So if you didn't know, this one rapper MC Chris wrote and performed a song known as Fett's Vette. Which is pretty awesome and funny.

What I didn't know is he made a song for each and every one of the other bounty hunters from ESB. Wow.

Here are links to them: oh and... WARNING EXPLICIT LANGUAGE

Fett's Vette:

(That version of Fett's Vette is clean... this is the dirty version if you're interested:

Bossk's Segway:

IG-88's Chevy:

Dengar's Dumptruck:

Zuckuss' (and 4-LOM's) Prius:

Oh and he also did a parody of Jason Derulo's song "Ridin' Solo" With, naturally,

Original Ridin' Solo by Jason Derulo:

MC Chris' Han Solo:

So... basically this guy is awesome!!! Too bad he isn't more popular

Fanart & Other Fan Creations / Midichlorian Rhapsody
« on: September 14, 2010, 07:15:28 PM »
Based on Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody! Its pretty epic!

Fanart & Other Fan Creations / A Light in the Darkness
« on: August 28, 2010, 05:49:33 PM »

A pretty impressive fanfilm. Good effects and way better acting than most other fan creations. I like it! Believable story too.

Part 1:

Clone Wars Era / Your prayers have been answered
« on: August 12, 2010, 07:29:36 PM »
Ladies and gentlmen, the one thing we have been wishing for since the beginning of The Clone Wars TV series has finally arrived. More exciting than the revealing of the ARCs, more exciting than the possible inclusion of Fordo. We had doubts... but fellow fans, the time has finally come.


The one. The only.


I am one extremely happy boy right now. :D The proper way to reveal my happiness would be:


General Star Wars / Galactic Empire State of Mind
« on: March 29, 2010, 09:58:16 PM »
Based off the popular song 'Empire State of Mind' by Jay Z (Which is an awesome song by the way), College Humor decided to make their own version:

Original Empire State of Mind by Jay Z:

Galactic Empire State of Mind by College Humor:

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