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Topics - Ky'ram Parjai'Kote

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Off-topic & Chat / I Need Computer Advice
« on: March 16, 2013, 04:44:15 PM »
I'm starting fresh. I want a gaming computer. I don't really care what it costs, I just want a computer that could maaaaybe run Crysis 3 at a decent framerate.

So, what would you guys suggest for graphics cards, cases, motherboards, all that jazz?

Fanfiction / Ky'ram's Short Stories (Version Two!)
« on: August 05, 2011, 11:13:17 PM »
So, I got the 120 days of inactivity thing, so...

Yeah. New short. Be happy!

I got a bug when re-re-re-re-re-re-re-re-re-re-re-re-re-re-reading O66, which then morphed into something completely different. Which, when you combine the two into some terrible offspring:

Forgetting the Flames

[spoiler]The figure pushed the burning embers aside, rising cautiously from his resting place. He wondered why he was trapped in the burning building. Suddenly a thought struck him as well as another cumbersome piece of durasteel, superheated to several hundred degrees. Where was he, he wondered, and why is this place on fire? His armor protected him though; he was thankful for that. Eventually, he stumbled outside, where he promptly collapsed, and his consciousness slipped away.

Several hours later, the figure awoke in a silk-white bed, sans his armor, surrounded by blinding light...and a scarlet-haired human female.


"The name's Tara...Tara Starkos. You?"


"Xeph? What's with that armor?"

"I...I don't know."

"What happened back there? Was that your house?"

"I don't know."

"All you know is that your name is Xeph?"


"Well then, I took the liberty of patching you up. Even with the armor, you got yourself some third-degree burns on your right thigh, and on your left hand. I'm sorry a doctor didn't see you, but I'll have to do."

"Thank you, Tara. Why'd you help me?"

"I saw you unconscious, with a burning building behind you, so I figured..."

"Wait. That Oh no. Ex. We need to go back."

"What is it? You're in no condition to go back."

"There may still be someone in there. Someone close to me."


"His name's Ex. Just drive me back."

Tara's face visibly softened, and she relented. Xeph shakily rose from the bed, and set to work donning his armor.

"No. Don't even try. It's ruined."

"I need the helmet."

"Take it with you. If Ex is still in there, we just need to find him."

Tara grabbed the man's hand, and led him swiftly yet cautiously out of the apartment and into a speeder.

* * * * * * * * *

Ex coughed, tried to grasp a breath, but the rubble...too heavy. The wheezing man gasped as his vision blurred, then groaned as the smoldering support beams were lifted away, and an ethereal being, a red-haired saint, picked his battered body from the ashes, and, together with his own reflection, carried him to salvation; bliss; paradise.

* * * * * * * * *

"No! He just...! He can't die!"

"I'm trying all I can, Xeph, but I don't know how bad his wounds are! Take his armor off!"

"No, no, no! Ex! We're losing him!"

* * * * * * * * *

A moment of bitter resignation clouded the site of the former Tau Barracks on the lower levels of Coruscant. Yet another clone had joined the ranks of the dead. And the only clone remaining knew nothing of what had happened. Why? What was his involvement in the matter? And why would he forget?

* * * * * * * * *

Back at the apartment, Xeph tossed and turned in the bed. The ever-vigilant Tara awoke from her latest grapple with sleep, and sat up, worried about the clone.

A therm-det in his hand, disassembled, laying before him. His squad sitting around him.

"I dare you, snip the wire. See what happens."

"Jez, I told you, that wire sets the thing off. I snip that, it'll trip it, and we'll all be dead."

"That's just what the Kaminoan spooks told you. Believe me. I'm the demolition expert."

"Xeph, don't listen to him."

"Ex, stay out of this! This is between him and me. Go on, Xeph. Snip it."


The figure bolted upright.

"I did it. I killed them. I killed them all. Me."

"What are you talking about, Xeph?"

"I remember now. My brother dared me to snip a wire. I did, it blew up the whole place. If I hadn't been wearing my armor, I would have died. Unfortunately, Jez wasn't. The rest died when the building burned down."

"You're not responsible, Xeph. Jez told you to, it couldn't have been you."

"You don't understand. I listened to him. I am responsible."

"You're not, Xeph."

"I am. I have to go turn myself in now."

"No, you don't! Don't!"

"You can't stop me, Tara. I murdered one hundred and fifty people. I. Am. A. Murderer."

As the clone got up and strode to the door, Tara bolted in front of him.


A glint caught Xeph's eye. Years of training as a commando honed his instincts, and he knew a sniper when he saw one. He thrust the girl to the floor, but widened his eyes in death as the plasma bolt melted the interior of his cranium to slag. He sank to the floor, and his glazed eyes settled on Tara Starkos.


Then she broke into tears.[/spoiler]

[spoiler]Crazy, huh? And this actually, sorta, was indirectly inspired by a dream I had. So you also see a little bit about me.[/spoiler]

Fanfiction / Episode III: Revenge of the Sith (Reimagined!)
« on: June 03, 2011, 08:36:15 PM »
Yes, I have taken the ultimate step of nerdiness, and have rewritten Episode III.

Where do I start? As Kenobi and Skywalker make their way to the General's Quarters, and Dooku and Sidious dialogue.

Just an author's note: I have taken some of the character dialogue directly from the Episode III novelization written by Matthew Stover (or Perry, I forget which). I have placed pikes ( | ) before and after each section that is taken.

Chapter 1
[spoiler]The two Sith Lords, one shackled in the cyborg's chair, the other standing as he gazed out the panoramic window at the battle above, discussed their grand plans for the galaxy.
   | “It will be an embarrassment to be captured by him.” |
   | “An embarrassment you can survive, Lord Tyranus. After all, he is the greatest Jedi alive, is he not? And have we not ensured that all the galaxy shares this opinion?” |
   | “Quite so, my Master, quite so. It is...fatiguing, to play the villain for so long, Master. I find myself looking forward to an honorable captivity.” |
The captivity that he would enjoy. Yes, he would enjoy it, even if it meant he had to 'rot' in a Republic detention cell. Yet, he knew, even though Skywalker and Kenobi would be lauded and praised, that his Master, Lord Sidious, would allow the plan to proceed. After all, his Master had the advantage of being the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic.
After all of the farce of a trial, the Sith Lord Tyranus would disavow his 'allies': the Neimodian Nute Gunray, the Geonosian Poggle the Lesser, and the various other alien scum comprising his sorry Trade Federation. Suprisingly, the Republic was scared of them. Scared! Why? They were aliens, foreign to the pure race of humans! Ah, the dreams of an 'Empire of Man', headed by his Master and him, with the headstrong yet powerful Skywalker heading the New Sith Army, put him contently to sleep every day.
The plan was simple. If the Jedi wished to kill him, a 'plan B' of sorts would come into effect: slaughter Kenobi, and feed the ensuing rage of Skywalker, swaying him to the dark side. Dooku, or Tyranus, as his Master dubbed him, would act as a catalyst. Sidious would do the work; Dooku would only bait the boy.
   | “Compose yourself, Tyranus. Kenobi and Skywalker are nearly at the door. Play your part, my apprentice, and the galaxy is ours.” |
After a moment of contemplation, the Sith Lord replied: | “Thank you, Chancellor.” |
   | “Withdraw. They are here.” |
With a leap over the balcony overlooking the General's Quarters, Dooku withdrew into the turbolift, and waited for the quarry to arrive.
Soon, however, the quarry burst through the door. The boy came through first, his lightsaber lighting the way. The elder took rear, examining the hole in the door his apprentice carved.
Dooku watched with growing anticipation as the Jedi exchanged words with Sidious, whom they called Palpatine. He swallowed his breath, and stepped out of the turbolift onto the balcony, flanked by two Super Battle Droids. The two Jedi swiveled to glare at him, and the Count of Serreno had to suppress a laugh. They looked so...pathetic.
   | “General Kenobi. Skywalker. Gentlemen—a term I use in its loosest possible sense—your swords, please. Wouldn't want to make a mess of things in front of the Chancellor.” |
Dooku glanced sideways at the droids to draw the attack, then swooped down between them, his crimson lightsaber activated and swinging. The Jedi scattered, Kenobi's duck away from him aided by a  powerful Force push into the wall. The ensuing crack made Dooku immensely happy, and he glanced over at the crumpled Jedi, who clutched his chest in agony. This giddiness ended as the incredulous Skywalker roared toward him. The agile Sith ducked, and the young Jedi slammed into the same wall, yet only suffered minor bruises due to his quick use of the Force.
   “Well done, Jedi. Too bad your 'Master' is not as skilled in the Force as you are.”
   “You will fall before my blade, old man!”
   “I think not, worm. Come at me.”
A powerful surge of air sent the Jedi back into the stairwell, and Dooku fell back to where the boy's Master lay, grasped the man with the Force, and threw him to the ground.
   “Boy, treachery is the way of the Sith.”
With that, the Sith Lord plunged his blade into the fallen man's heart, and listened to the dying man's quick gasps for final breaths.
   “No! Dooku! You will pay!”
As Dooku withdrew his lightsaber and kicked the corpse of Obi-Wan Kenobi to the side, he glanced over to the 'captive' Sidious, who he had noticed had shuddered when Dooku had killed Kenobi. Sidious wagged his head toward the younger Jedi, who knelt at the body.
   “Skywalker. Your Master was a necessary sacrifice. The Jedi are corrupt, you must admit that. The Sith know this, and, although it seems like we brutally murder Jedi, we are actually doing the galaxy a favor.”
   “Lies. The Sith are monsters.”
   “You know otherwise, young Skywalker. Join me, or suffer a fate worse than death: the death of your love, Senator Amidala.”
The boy paused, bowed his head, and, after what seemed like millenia, dropped his lightsaber, and gazed up at the Sith Lord.
   “What would you have me do...Master?”
   “Boy, I am not your Master.”
With a gesture, Dooku freed Sidious, and stepped back to behold the christening of a new Sith Lord and the dawning of the Empire—the Sith Empire.
   “Anakin Skywalker.”
   “Chancellor Palpatine.”
   “No, my friend. I am not Palpatine. I am...Darth Sidious.”
Dooku chuckled inwardly at the gasp that seemed to ripple from the new addition to the dark side.
   “ are...Sidious?”
   “Yes, my boy. Now, will you vow to serve me in the ways of the Sith, or die?”
   “...Yes, my...Master.”
   “ We will usher in a new government. I promise Amidala will survive. But first, you must rally the clone army to Coruscant to reorganize. Lord Tyranus will deactivate the droid army.”
   “Yes, Master. If I may ask, what will become of the Jedi and of the Senate?”
   “The Jedi will be decimated on all fronts, and any that surrender will become the officers of the Sith Army, which you will command. The Senate will be destroyed, except for an elite few, who will become my cabinet.”
   “Thank you, Master.”
The three walked to the panorama window, and gazed at the still-raging battle. Dooku stepped away to deactivate the droids; the two remaining watched as the droid capital ships, except the one they were currently on, spiraled downward, derelict, waiting to be destroyed.

In the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, the diminutive Grand Jedi Master, Yoda, squirmed in his hoverchair. He turned to the Korun Master, Mace Windu, and the two exchanged a troubled look.
   “Fear, I do, that the galaxy is lost.”
   “So do I. I suggest we scatter the Jedi, for the Sith are gaining momentum, and if we remain together, then they will destroy us.”
The two Jedi parted ways to protect their Order. Yet, deep within, they knew it would be fruitless: the Sith had won, the Jedi had lost. It had taken the death of one Jedi and the destabilizing of the most powerful among them.
All was lost.[/spoiler]


"It was the perfect crime: slip in at night when no one's around, incapacitate any guards that happen by, get the creds, and get out. Unfortunately, we didn't count on the Republic's 'secret weapon.'"
--Rai Kyrkx, from Cell187/5a of Raul Valorum Detention Center, Coruscant

   --"Victory, this your Advisor speaking. Sorry to interrupt your R and R, but there's a 10-42 in progress. Bank of Aargau. Sending you to Outfitting for prep. Advisor, out."--
   "Fierfek! I was waiting...patiently...for my nuna spice-burger!" the blue-splotched commando whined.
   "Ner vod, it's nearly midnight; if you ate one of those, we could use you as a room-clearing agent," the cynical, rune-covered commando quipped back.

   The squad's sergeant, decked in green, replied: "Rancor, Sixer, can it. Get a move on; the gunship's probably--"

   --"Inbound, Victory. Be advised: we're cloaked. Stay frosty."--

   "What?" the resident hacker of Victory Squad, Uno, asked.

   "I don't see it either, Un'ika," the sergeant, Ky'ram, replied.

   As they left the diner to wait for their ride, Sixer chimed in: "Is it one of those 'shadow gunships', Sarge?"

   The squad's sniper, Rancor, quipped back at the cynical pyromaniac: "Maybe."

   "Are you the sergeant?"

   "Not yet, but with any luck, the gunship crushes Ky. Then I'll be in charge!"

   Ky'ram shut him up with a glare as a mass of rippling skyline descended. a rush of cool air hit the commandos as the door opened, and the elite four stepped in."


   --"Hey, I'm kinda liking this new gear. I feel shadowy...and stuff. Radical."--

   --"Rancor, shut up. Anyway, on to the mission. We'll rappel in from the skylight (breaking
some glass, of course), and slot anything the moves, rescue any hostages, and look like a boss."-- Ky'ram said, motivationally aiding by moving his arms pointlessly around.

   --"Boss? Delta's gonna be there?"--

   --"Rancor! I swear, I'm going to go insane. Alright. Let's roll."--

Alright, this is my compensation for being away for so long--one of the things I've worked on--and please forgive me for it.
So I wanted to boot up another fanfic, and I reread Bedtime Stories, one of my first fanfics on here. There's a throwaway line that mentions several more missions, but they're boring.
Not really. I want to gauge interest, to see if Part 1 is worth posting, and from then on if more Parts are worthy.
Thanks for surviving my horrendous attempts at humor, and thanks for enjoying the rest of the story!

Fanfiction / Perpetual Pessimist Punctuating Preparation
« on: February 04, 2011, 09:13:11 PM »
Yes. I used alliteration in a thread title.

Deal with it.

This story deals with the misfortunes of RC-8008.

Chapter 1
RC-8008, or "Gai", hated life. More specifically, he hated this day. Today had been terrible. He had been mocked, humiliated, bruised, injured, dragged through virtual mud, dragged through real mud, and was now being pelted with rain. Why? He had coughed, reflexively, after his training sergeant, Walon Vau, had demanded that his squad be quiet. He was now standing in the Kaminoan rain with no armor, only his lower body protected by his body suit.

His sergeant, RC-8005, "Dajun", sauntered out onto the platform, sheltered in his armor.

--"Vau says you can come in now."--


They both walked back into the warmth and dryness of Tipoca City, destined for Training Room 1875. Silence characterized the walk there; eventually, as the door to the training room opened, Gai collapsed in a wheezing heap on the floor.

~~Three hours and seven minutes later; Tipoca Infirmary 48~~
::"His weak immune system could not prevent the hypothermia from reaching his lungs. It gave him a severe infection, and we almost had to operate."::
--"So he's out of action?"--
"Can I -cough- get a word in?"
The three armored, yet helmetless clones, the armored Mandalorian, and medical droid all turned to look at Gai.
"Thank you. I -cough- hate you all. I hate you -cough­­-, Dajun, because you're a jerk. I hate you, Flak, because you're too shabla -cough- flamboyant. I hate you, Atin, because you're too quiet. And finally -cough-, I hate you, Sergeant Vau, because you can't lighten up when a man has been ridiculed, humiliated, -cough- hit, and et cetera."
He closed his eyes as a wheeze rolled up his throat.
"Now, please. Leave. Leave me to my misery."
With shock lingering in their eyes, they complied, ambling out in single-file. Sergeant Vau was the last out, but he looked back, an --"Ad'ika..."-- weakly emitting from the helmet.
The animosity in Gai's voice sent shockwaves pushing the Mandalorian out the door.

Fanfiction / Dauber In The Mud
« on: December 11, 2010, 09:58:41 PM »
This is my newest thing. I'm sorry for the delay, to all those that cared.

Wanted to try something new, so this is my experiment in the first-person, memoir, mudjumper clone, beachhead genre.

Too specific? Deal with it.


      CHAPTER I   

   I hate water. And I'm from Kamino. Seems I would be itching to go to Kalipa, then. But not so. In fact, I don't think I was alone. I think that all of the men in the 224th didn't enjoy being crammed into a aqua-dropship like Calisian cattle in a market. But we were there to drive the clankers off of the marine planet.
   My name is Dauber. General Quinlan Vos, whom I have learned doesn't like to call us by our names, calls me CT-1118. I was a private at the time of the Invasion of Kalipa, about 21 BBY, if my mind can remember back that far.
   I snapped out of my musings as a shell detonated next to the craft, sending plumes of salt water up and on top of me. Laughter rippled softly over the tac-net, and I glared at my nearest companion.
   --"What?! I'm not laughing!"--
   --"Yes you are, Mono."--
   Mono shrugged, and looked toward the door of the craft to our front. The walls of water ramped up in intensity, as we neared the shore.
   "Twenty seconds, boys!"
   The countdown reached fifteen, then ten, then almost five, until one of the repeating cannons housed in the durasteel bunkers on the shore chanced a shot along the exposed roof of the dropship, sending the captain's still-attached bodyparts into the depths.
   We stopped prematurely, thanks in part to a sandbar, also in part to the same volley hitting the engine. The door swung down, and we spilled out into the water, some breathing, some smoking through their plastoid "body buckets". Those breathing raised their rifles or carbines, and covered the advance toward the oddly-placed tank barricades. Fortunately, we didn't have any tanks (they would be delivered after the main push), so the barricades were mainly used as cover.
   I looked over to Mono, and he nodded. I raised my rifle, squeezing off a burst at the bunkers. We saw our lieutenant wave us forward, where a duracrete wall blocked any heavy advances. We used it as an advantage, allowing us to breath. At least, we could, until those shabla droids blew through their own wall. They took out several of our men, so we decided to scale the wall. Liquid-cable launchers from our rifles hoisted us to the top of the wall, where we shot at the droids as we jumped down. We headed for the bunkers, unwittingly entering No Man's Land.
   I hit the wall with exhaustion and relief, and waited for Mono and the rest of my little troupe. Mono hit, then Fleck, then Shev. We were all there. Now we would take down the Separatists.
~     ~      ~     ~     ~
   It wasn't as easy as my adrenaline-fueled mind thought it was. When we again ascended the steep wall, several of us met the repeater cannons.
   Seeing bodies fall back to where they just came isn't the best sight. But it offers good motivation to send those droids packing. The hard way. I hit one, its mechno-brain sparking as it skittered away from the thorax. I ran to the door, shot the panel, and sprayed the inside room as soon as the door opened.
   Now that I think about it, I think we were ahead of the main thrust. That hurt us. And what I shot at didn't help either.
   Inside was a room full of angry Kak eels. Not good.
   --"Kak eels! Back up!"--
   Mono, helmetless thanks to a heavy scratch on the visor, screamed a quick rebuttal: "We can't!"
   --"What do we do? We agitate them enough, they'll start sparking!"--

   I should probably add that the Kak eel is an amphibious animal native only to Kalipa. As such, it is exponentially rare; thus, the Kalipans divide their exports accordingly. The problem with this seemingly harmless and misunderstood animal is that it doesn't like loud noises and bright flashes. To combat the seeming threat, it has an ingrown defense: it emits sparks and waves of radiation. In the right conditions, things would explode.
   These weren't the right conditions, thank the Maker.
   "Drop a flashbang!"
   "Try it!"
   I dropped a flashbang grenade in the room, ducked out, and winced as a bright wave of light passed by. When I peeled the corner, the eels were incapacitated.
   --"Let's go."--
   Squad Theta (Ξ) of the 224th Mud Jumper Battalion descended into the hornet's nest.


Fanart & Other Fan Creations / Ky'ram's Beskar'gam and Stuff
« on: September 06, 2010, 06:40:34 PM »
Well, so far, all I have is a prospective sidearm and a Jango Fett 2-piece on backorder (Entertainment Earth's had it that way since March. MARCH).

But I do have a LOT of concepts.

First, I'll start with the stuff I have.


It started out as one of those picture easel things you can get at Wal-Mart. (I got mine free; the picture we wanted to use it for was too big, so I snatched it...)

Now, armor concepts, separated out nicely.

Concept #1Concept #2

Fanfiction / Twin Engines of Badshebsness
« on: August 05, 2010, 11:08:38 PM »
((Yes, yes, I know, I stole the title...))

Chapter One
[spoiler]The murky stillness of Endor's stream was interrupted by two pairs of footprints, the first set belonging to black boots with stone-dark brown bootplates; the second a black boot with black shin and bootplates.

The pair of legs belonging to the rearman morphed from the shadows of night into a set of sinister armor that struck fear into quarry and predator alike. The pointman's pair? Not so much. That suit resembled the man inside: an infiltrator, one who used his surroundings to his cover and advantage.

These two were Ky'ram Parjai'Kote and Beviin Atin Eparavu.

Ky'ram, wearing the black, pointed over Beviin, who donned the brown, toward a tree system, a confused maze of logs, vines, and bridges, somehow all coming together in a amelgam of primitive architectry.

--"There's our L-U-P."--


--"Beviin, you old barve, Laying Up Point."--

--"Alright, snappy shebs."

Ky'ram shook his head in frustration, raising his Verpine Sniper Rifle as a snapping twig broke the utter silence of Endorian night. Beviin, likewise, revealed his weapons, two phrik sabers, with awkward handles capping them off at the end. These handles were not mere decor--they served a sinister purpose--a purpose which offered an overwhelming advantage to the bearer of these blades. The handles were slugthrowers, allowing one to "bring a gun to a knife fight", while still performing conventional warfare.

--"Nevermind, must have been an Ewok scout. Manda knows I hate those things with all my passion."--

--"Those things are cute, Ky, adorably cute. And they're lighter, too. Lighter than you. You're heavy. Remember Tatooine? The time I--"

--"Stow it."--

--"...Fine then."--

They ascended the wooden ramp stretching from the foilage on the ground to the foilage in the trees.

The first thing they noticed was the view.

Ky'ram removed his helmet, wishing Beviin would do the same. The man wouldn't, in a time-worn tradition dating to the Old Republic era.

"That helmet must be sweaty a lot."

--"Cooling systems."--

"Now you're playing the silent game with me."

--"Whatever. This view is amazing. We can see the target from here."--

"Yeah. We got the plan down?"

--"Of course. You'll snipe as I draw the Death Watch out of the bunker."--

"Sounds easy."

--"Of course it shabla does. You're the kriffing sniper. I'm the one who's walking into a hive of bees."--

"You do your job, I do mine. We get out, get paid, get the girls. Oh wait, I'm married. Haran to be me then."

--"Yes. Yes it is."--

"Shut up, you old barve."

Ky'ram turned to watch the bunker, a sunken slab of bits of metal welded and fused together to ultimately interrupt the dense foliage of the Endorian forest. He turned back to Beviin, to find his head slumped against his shoulder, and a loud snoring sound coming from the helmet.

--"ZzzzZZZzzzz...No...No...That's my electrospanner...ZZZZzzzzzz the nuna took my pants...zzZzz..."-- ((Beviin))

"BEVIIN! Wake the shab up!"

--"Huhwha? I...I...Zzzzzz..."--



"Old barve."

--"I suppose I should...go now?"--

"That would be nice."

Ky'ram turned to look at the bunker yet again, then turned back to his companion.


He couldn't find the Mandalorian.

"Old barve probably fell asleep and fell off the balcony."

Ky'ram figured he could kill time by sighting up, so he slipped his Verpine Sniper Rifle off his back, hefted it to his shoulder, and looked down the scope, abruptly remembering the all-black helmet staring at him from the table. He grabbed it, slipped it on, the seal snapping together, and streams of data morphing into icons and crosshairs. One crosshair in particular dominated his HUD. This crosshair lined up with the scope crosshair, and then began scanning for targets. It came up with three, two red, one green. He zoomed in on the green target, as it morphed from a green silhouette to a real time image. Ky'ram gasped.

"Beviin, you sneaky shabuir."

He watched in awe as Beviin stealthily sauntered up to the first red target, one of two guards, who was obviously bored. Beviin pulled one of his phrik blades, as he slid to the guard. He slipped the blade around the guard, out of his sight, and pulled back, severing the man's vertebrae. The decapitated body crumpled, but Beviin hefted it onto his shoulder and disappeared. The second guard looked over at his comrade, noticed the lack of a second Death Watch member, and pressed an alarm. He looked back, only to crumple to the ground as a Verpine slug penetrated his helmet, rapidly entering and exiting his cranium.

--"Beviin, you ready?"--

--"Of course, vod'ika."--

--"Shabuir! There's a shebs­-load of 'em!"--

Ky'ram sniped the first one out, an eye shot from half a kilometer away. He sighted the second one, but his target crumpled as a sword jutted out his neck.

--"Quit stealing my targets, Beviin!"--

Ky'ram's ingrained instinct warned him of possible location, and his response was to move, more specifically, farther away.

This was going to take a while.[/spoiler]

Many thanks to the REAL Beviin for the jokes.

Fanfiction / Ky'ram's Short Stories
« on: June 30, 2010, 06:24:22 PM »
While working on my current three projects, I've written several short stories. I've decided to post them all in one thread.

Here's the first one, Pursuit of a Fugitive.

Run. Run. Run. Cover. Where's cover?

The figure dashed across the waving wheat field, the full moon illuminating it as well as covered it in shadow, and looked over its shoulder. Its pursuer was treading calmly through the undulating sea of grain, trailing it. The figure stumbled into a sleepy little town, kicking down the first door it could find. The dim light lit its face more clearly, and the figure morphed into a ragged middle-age woman, her wet hair hanging down over her face. Her tattered shirt clung to her body, and she clambered up the stairs as her pursuer stepped into the two-story villa which contrasted with the rest of the town. The sinister helmet gleamed in the light, and reflected into the woman's eyes as she turned to her right, crashing into the bedroom. She dove into the sheets, and her heart beat wildly, as the deliberate footsteps resounded up the stairs and into her brain.

It's over. My life as a lawbreaker is over.

The door swished open, and her pursuer, clad in his Mandalorian armor, raised his rifle, and pulled off a shot.

The woman felt the bolt singe the pillow next to her, and she darted from the covers, darting past the bounty hunter, and aimed at the panoramic window taking up the wall. She collided with the transparisteel, shattering it. The sharp blades of metal gouged into her arms, legs, and body, and she stumbled onto the deck. She felt the heat from another bolt burn her arm, and she screamed in agony, falling back onto the railing. She turned back to look at her pursuer. She peered into the reflective yet concealing T-visor, and climbed onto the railing.


She pitched her body weight over the edge, but all conscious thought ceased when a bolt seared through her spine.

Her last experience was a cold collision with the wet ground two stories below.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 The Mandalorian knelt over the pale body sprawled in the rain-soaked mud.

"Ney Byufurd. Pity she ran into the law so violently."

Boba Fett, galaxy-wide renowned bounty hunter and Mandalorian, stood up, and jetted away[/spoiler]

Fanfiction / The Battle of Mandalore
« on: June 29, 2010, 08:52:55 AM »
Alright, this is one of many of my "summer projects" that I've worked on. The inspiration I got this from is a thread in the General Star Wars section, "What Little-known Event From Star Wars yada-yada-yada". I scoured Wookieepedia, and got the information I wanted. I also started off by tracking the entire Parjai'Kote line (23 generations from 250 BBY-300 ABY as of now), and selecting the proper person for the time period, 40 ABY. This person was Kom'rk Parjai'Kote II. Here's the proper Dramatis Personae.

Kom'rk Parjai'Kote I (78) (Male)
Kom'rk Parjai'Kote II (30) (Male)
Senaar Parjai'Kote (28) (Female)
Sa'rad Parjai'Kote (12) (Female)
Kom'rk Parjai'Kote III (15) (Male)
Kot'yc Parjai'Kote (13) (Male)
Beviin Atin Eparavu (105) (Male)

The interesting thing about Beviin is that even though he's 100 frakkin' years old, he can still fight and function normally.

Anyway, I'll get all four parts up.

The door hissed shut as a black armored figure stepped through.

"I'm back!"

Another figure, clad in red, turned from her spot at the kitchen sink.

"How was Keldabe, cyar'ika?"

The black figure replied,
"Fine, but, I've got some bad news."


The shadowy figure finished his walk toward the female Mandalorian, and gave her a gentle Keldabe kiss, in which the two helmets pressed together, simulating a kiss.
"Manda'lor has declared a state of defense against the Vong. They've entered the system, and they've already ravaged Kalevala. They're on their way here. He wants all men from 13 onward to meet his staff at Manda'lor's Mouth."

"How many do you expect to be there?"

"Everyone. I don't know specifics but it's going to be a lot. Are Kom'rk and Kotyc awake?"

"No. They need to be awake, though."

"Great, I'll go wake them up now."

The female put her hand on her husband's shoulder, restricting him from forward progress.
"Kom'rk. Wait. I can't stand being alone."

He turned to look at her, peering into her T-visor.
"You won't, you'll have Sa'rad with you."

"No, I mean I want to fight. So does Sa'rad. The rest of the clan, minus your father, can't fight. We'll move them underground, and me and Sa'rad will meet you at the Mouth."

Kom'rk hesitated, a sigh escaping his lips, then answered.
"Fine. You can come. Bring buir when you do."


"Bye, Senaar."
Kom'rk said as he turned, and walked into the narrow hallway, turning right to enter his two sons' room. They were asleep, until Kom'rk shook them gently to wake them up.

"Ad'ike, I've got to talk to you."

"What, Buir?"

"I've told you about the Vong, correct?"

His younger son of 13, Kotyc, answered.


"Well, they've invaded Kalevala, and are on their way here. They intend to kill us all."

His eldest son who bore his name, Kom'rk, of 15 years, didn't answer, but instead stood from his bed, and walked to the closet which led to the armory. Kom'rk picked up two helmets, one matching his paintscheme of all black, a tribute to his greatgrandfather, and handed the other to Kotyc. Kotyc slipped his on, and his scheme of silver armor pieces on a black flightsuit was completed. Kom'rk stepped back into the closet and grabbed two Verpine Sniper Rifles which had stood the test of time.

"Great. Load up with plenty of ammo, grab your bes'kade as well. One WESTAR each as well. I'll be packing my stuff."

The elder Kom'rk walked into his bedroom, and turned into the closet which was his gateway into the armory, the center of the house. All of the rooms in the house splayed around the armory like petals on a Naboo rose, and the closets of each transferred into the armory. Along the way, the Mandalorian going through it could don their armor, the traditional beskar'gam, and end up in the armory, an impressive stash of weapons, grenades, and ammunition.

Kom'rk put his helmet on, then, as he stepped through the door, his vision was enhanced by several filters, as well as icons with the core functions of the suit. Cool air wafted through the helmet, blocked from going out by a neckseal which covered the neck. His health was measured by sensors, and his ammo was measured by an as of then deadlink to his Verpine.

He entered the armory, and picked up his Sniper Rifle, the deadlink turning into a live one. Under the health bar was an ammunition gauge, giving him a heads-up on the level of ammo.

He also picked up two bes'kade, machetes that could slice bone. His were rather blood-stained, fo they were the do-it-all blades of the Mandalorian. He slid them into their holsters, noting that they stuck as he slid them in. He armed himself with a WESTAR pistol, very similar to the ones the legendary bounty hunter of almost a century ago, Jango Fett, carried. Kom'rk reflected that it was Jango's son, Boba, that was Manda'yaim's current Manda'lor. He stepped out of the armory, and checked up on his sons. His sons were almost as tall as him, and bore similar weaponry to him. The three of them walked out of the hallway, and past their mother, acknowledging her with a hug and a goodbye. The Mandalorians climbed onto their speeder bikes, and rocketed off toward the very narrow pass in the Atin mountains, a mountain range spanning most of the planet.
Chapter 1:
[spoiler]Kom'rk, the younger Kom'rk, and Kotyc dismounted from their speeder bikes, and walked the short distance to where about 500,000 Mandalorian men, with more streaming in, stood, listening to their leader, the legendary Boba Fett, brief them.

--"The Vong invaders are here to destroy us, but they have gravely underestimated us. We are Mandalorians, and we have the advantage of terrain. We have the motivation. We have strategy.

"Now, your main commanders will be Dinui Beskaryc, A'den Skirata, Taglar Dreskk, and Novall Talon. You'll split into groups of roughly 100,000, and then be split up from there. I'll ask each leader to come up and name general clans to come up."--

The Parjai'Kotes soon learned that they were assigned to Dinui, and the three men, now joined by the women and Kom'rk's father, Kom'rk Parjai'Kote the first, moved to the mountains, where Dinui would direct the defense of the pass.

The pass, known as Manda'lor's Mouth, was the major pass through the Atin Mountains, and it was also known as the gateway to Keldabe. It separated the desert from the grasslands, and the Mandalorians were certain that the Yuuzhan Vong would land in the desert, a logistical error that big armies almost always made when attacking Mandalore. Mandalore had been attacked about 20 times in the history of the galaxy, and all of those times the home bolo-ball team had won, so to speak.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Kom'rk lay in a prone position on a little outcropping in Mount Dral, one of two mountains which formed the pass. All around, snipers sighted the faint forms that were approaching through the desert. His sons were on Mount Dral as well; Kom'rk above him and Kotyc below him. His link to his sniper rifle flashed, alerting him that he was in range.

--"Ram'ser Traat'aliit She'cu, trac'yar mav!"--

Those in Sniper Squad Nine opened fire on the Vong hordes, cutting them down while they were still a klick out. The Vong responded by firing thud bugs at the Mandalorians, eliciting minor casualties from the armored warriors. The main sniper groups opened up, killing more Vong, until they were 200 yards from the pass.

--"This is Dinui, retreat! Phase one is completed! Retreat to the tunnels!"--

The Mandalorians fled from their positions, and traversed over rock into tunnels underneath Keldabe and the surrounding areas. Group two, led by the legendary A'den Skirata, led the defense of the tunnels until all of the citizens were inside.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Kotyc fell from his position on a boulder as a thud bug hit his backplate. He tumbled down the mountain, landing at the bottom. The silver-armored Mando attempted to get up, but he looked down at the twisted clump of bone and flesh that once comprised his leg. He screamed in agony, but his screams were muffled as the sharp end of an organic amphistaff stabbed through his side, impaling his lungs, and piercing the ground. Kom'rk turned to look at his brother, who was now pooling blood on the ground as the Vong warrior pulled his weapon from the body. He sighted his rifle in rage and fury, pulling the trigger. The Vong's head disappeared in a puff of smoke, and Kom'rk scrambled toward the body, dragging Kotyc into the tunnel as the door closed. He sobbed uncontrollably as his father and grandfather kneeled next to him.

Kom'rk hugged his mother, Senaar, as he pulled himself painfully from his brother's body. Sa'rad embraced the two, but was interrupted as pounding on the door sent resonating bangs through the Mandalorians gathered in the tunnels. The pounding matched the pounding of Kom'rk's heart as adrenaline rushed through his veins. These Vong had invaded his planet, and now had killed his younger brother. They would pay. He looked up as a restraining hand placed itself on  his shoulder. The brown armored glove belonged to a brown armored flightsuit, which in turned belonged to a brown and green armored flightsuit. The edgy brown and green helmet completed the elderly, yet still capable, Mandalorian known as Beviin Atin Eparavu. No one knew where he came from, who he was, they just knew that he was the last thing you wanted to come across. He had befriended the Parjai'Kote Clan in the glory days of the Empire, and had endured hardships with them as well.

"You're about as giddy as a Naboo sun-stone. Lighten up, kid."

"They killed Kotyc."

"I know, but that gives you reason to kill more Vong."

"Whatever, Beviin."

Suddenly the fierce Mandalore sunlight of Nau'ur, the sun, pierced through the tunnel.

"They're here!" "Charge your weapons!" "Where is the alii'gai?"
The cries of commanders and other figures in command echoed through the cavern, accompanied by the cocking of weapons, the unsheathing of swords, bes'kade, bes'bevs, and bi'kadiniri, and various noises. The door burst open, and Vong and Mando alike opened fire, the screams of the dying and sickening slashes and slices filled the tunnel as the bio-organic galactic invaders marched forward, steadily pushing the Mandalorians back. But for every inch, fifty Vong died. But on the reverse, ten Mandos were eliminated.

"I'm hit!"

"Who? Where? Is it one of my aliit?"
Kom'rk said, spinning around momentarily. He noticed his mother stumble, scarlet blood seeping from a wound in her leg. Kom'rk turned to find a Vong warrior towering over him. He unsheathed his bes'kad, jamming it in the exo-suit's chink, a small gap between the chest plate and backplate. The Vong wailed, then swatted the fifteen year old Mandalorian into the wall, shattering bone. Kom'rk promptly passed out.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The 32 year old Kom'rk rallied beside Beviin as Sa'rad took care of his wife. She had taken shrapnel to her thigh, and he cursed for not crafting her a thigh plate.

Oh well, he thought, Mandalorians aren't perfect.

He fired at the horde of Vong, falling back steadily. They had to make a stand here, if they wanted to protect the civilians.

Then, an idea struck him right as a thud bug hit a Mando beside him in the neck.

He keyed in the link to Command, and explained his idea.

--"...and that's why you need to shut the emergency doors right now!"--


The comlink clicked off, as a click sounded from the emergency doors. They snapped shut as a Vong leaped through, slicing him in half. Muffled screams came from the other side of the door as gas wafted through the sealed off compartment, killing most of the Vong. The doors opened, and a fresh hail of fire rained down on the remaining several Vong. The Mandos raised their weapons in victory. They rushed the opening of the tunnels, and quickly reclaimed the mountains and surrounding areas, and began to dig trenches.

Day one of the battle of Mandalore had ended.
Chapter 2:
[spoiler]Morning dawned on the sleepless Mandalorian defenders grappling for that ever-evasive bit of sleep. The defenders had stayed mostly alert throughout the night in their trenches, watching for a surprise Vong attack. It had not come, and the Mandalorians now faced the prospect of not being able to fight at 100 percent, due to their vigilance the night before.

At about ten o'clock, a rumble shook the entire planet. The Mandalorians loaded their weapons and prepared for a fight. Beviin Atin Eparavu unsheathed his phrik swords, and stared at the Vong ships on the horizon. The ships suddenly left the ground, and lifted off toward space. They were retreating. A massive roar erupted from the defenders, down 100,000 from their 500,000 plus troops at the beginning of the battle. The civilians had arisen from their relatively peaceful sleep, and had come to hear what the commotion was about. The uproar turned into various stanzas of Vode An, Dha Werda Verda, Gra'tua Cuun, and others, when they were interrupted by several loud whines from space, ultimately converging into one high-pitched scream. An eerie red glow illuminated the overcast skies, foreshadowing the horrendous act about to follow.

Red beams of pure plasma pierced the clouds, crashing into the ground with loud cracks, causing explosions wherever they hit. The orbital bombardment continued to rain down pure haran on the unsuspected Mandalorian populace, killing many, leveling buildings, and causing fires in the brushland near the Kelita River which ran through Keldabe.

Kom'rk dove for cover in a trench, dragging his wounded wife and son into it. Beviin piled in next to him. Sa'rad, who had been separated from them in the beginning of the bombardment, ran toward them. But when she was only five meters away, a beam hit exactly where she stood, cooking her in her armor. Senaar screamed in agony as she watched her precious ten year old daughter killed unmercifully before her eyes. Both Kom'rks restrained her from rushing to grasp the armor, but Beviin dashed toward the body, bringing it back into the trench.

The hell-beams continued raining down, leveling more buildings, but not killing many more people, for they had all hunkered down to wait it out. Abruptly, the bombardment ceased, and the Vong ships pulled into hyperspace. The weary Mandalorians arose from their bunkers and trenches, and began piling and counting the dead.

Senaar, held up by her remaining child and husband, collected the helmets of Sa'rad and Kotyc, and Beviin pulled out a piece of nuna meat, and a slimy beast, as old as Beviin, the strill known as Nou, clambered lazily toward the sand and grass colored Mandalorian who was fortunate enough to survive the hellish battle. Beviin led the beast past the rows of bodies, and followed the weeping Parjai'Kote family. They walked past street after ruined street of crumbled and crumbling buildings, until they reached their homestead outside Keldabe. The homestead was relatively untouched, but the outside wall was crumbled.

Kom'rk placed his wife on the couch in the karyai, and went out to meet Beviin.

"Well, Beviin, we made it. Sadly, it came at the price of two of my wonderful children."

"It's a price some people have to pay, Kom'ika. Your grandfather had to pay the same price."

"Really, Beviin?"

"Yeah, first he lost his old squadmate, Tripzer, back on Geonosis, then he lost Uno on a mission to Hoth after the war, and as a result, Rancor, Tripzer's replacement, commited suicide and wounded two others."

Kom'rk lowered his head.
"I hadn't heard that."

Beviin put his hands in the air, palms-out, in an I-don't-know gesture.
"I heard it from Ky'ram."

"My great-grandfather?"

"No, your great-great-grandfather."

"See, it's confusing sometimes, why we name each other Ky'ram and Kom'rk."

"Tradition can be confusing, Kom'rk."

"How many men do you think we lost, Beviin?"

"I'll say about 100,000 in the battle, and about a million five hundred thousand in that bombardment."

"It's amazing what people will do to get rid of us, eh, Beviin?"

"We're impossible to get rid of, like a pesky Mustafar lava flea, tiny buggers."

"Tiny? Those things are huge!"

"It's all in how you look at it, young Kom'rk."

"Whatever, old man."

"I'm not old, just...more experienced."

"Right, and I'm a youngling," Kom'rk said, laughingly as he turned to walk back into the house. His fighting days were over for now; it would take him everything to get his household and Manda'yaim back to normal.
[spoiler]Kom'rk stood with Beviin over a crater in the desert.

"I'll be fried gihaal. That's beskar, right?"

"Pure beskar."

"Weren't we running out of this stuff?"

Beviin leaned on his phrik sword, and turned toward the 30 year old man.
"There were rumors. Not anymore, though. We'll have enough to armor your grandchildren onward!"

"Anyone told Fett about this?"

"Not yet. But I'm sure it'll make it to his desk in no time."

"You need to consider changing to beskar, Beviin. That phrik stuff's good and all, but it doesn't beat beskar. And with a fresh lode of this stuff, someone might even get a set for Fett."

"The funny thing is this stuff will outlive even me!"

Kom'rk was sure that Beviin meant it seriously, but that didn't stop him from laughing his gett'se out.


Kom'rk looked up at Beviin from his position, stooped over with his hands on his knees, and stared into the T-visor of the roughly 100 year old man staring just as quizzically into his T-visor, and laughed again.

When he stopped laughing, he straightened up, and sighed.

"Nothing, Beviin. We need to see about Keldabe."

As they strolled through the mostly ruined city of Keldabe, Beviin took the time to notice the quirks in Kom'rk's behavior. Even though the man was a generation from the man Beviin had known and worked with, he still carried many of the mannerisms of Ky'ram the eleventh, who had grown up unjustly in the gestation tanks of Kamino. The gait, the waving of the hands a certain way when he explained something, the astonishing resemblance to his great-grandfather who was unfortunately quite dead, and the same urge to live up to the expectations of his role model.

"...This building here needs serious repair, the Oyu'baat sustained minor damage..."

Kom'rk pointed to scorches and gouges in the aging stone of the equally aging cantina. The place was still a hive of Mandalorian gossip and activity, like always. Beviin remembered the stories Kom'rk had told him of how his father had met his mother in this very cantina, and courted her, married her, and then weeped for her as she suffered a stroke and died. She was dead by the time Kom'rk was seven.

Now a new wave of rehab and recovery faced the ever-strong members of the Parjai'Kote Clan, and Beviin would help them through it as long as he lived.

Which he knew wasn't for very long. Beviin chuckled to himself and patted the youngster on the shoulder pad.

"I think we should get home. I've got to see if my cavern made it."

The two split ways, as the sun set on a ruined and bruised Mandalore. But the sun would rise again, after a brief period of bas'lan shevla.

General Star Wars / Best Star Wars Movie Beginning
« on: May 25, 2010, 08:44:45 PM »
Episode I: The flight to the Separatist cruiser,
Episode II: The arrival on Coruscant,
Episode III: The battle over Coruscant,
Episode IV: The fight above Tatooine,
Episode V: The Hoth patrol,
Episode VI: Vader's arrival on the Death Star II.

So, which one?

Non-Star Wars Fiction / Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures
« on: April 28, 2010, 09:47:58 PM »
This story takes place in 2014, and is NOT based on current events.

(The background behind this was a friend's idea, we started doing 'field ops' ((we played out missions to check the practicality)), and everything checked out.)

First chapter will be up whenever I can work on it!

Fanfiction / Crusades of the 42nd Legion: Memoirs of CT-4270
« on: April 10, 2010, 01:07:05 PM »

Crusades of the 42nd Legion:
Memoirs of Lieutenant Drone, CT-4270

Kamino orbit, LAAT/I’s en-route to Venator Star Destroyer Illumination

--“Forty-second Legion, you may be wondering why you are traveling from Kamino in a LAAT/i. I hope to answer that for you. The Jedi have been trapped on the planet of Geonosis, and Master Yoda has recruited us in saving them. Our objective is to knock out an anti-spacecraft cannon that will threaten our Venators. We will deploy roughly 3 klicks above the surface, and ride the rest of the way out in larties. We’ll meet at RV Alpha, and then proceed to Beta. We’ll split up into two teams, Team A led by Drone, Team B led by myself. Team B will rush head-on, while Team A flanks the cannon, and plants a bomb, meeting inside the cannon. There, we will retreat, and I will blow the cannon. Then, we’ll see what else needs to be done. CC-1875, out.”--

“Pilot, what’s our time of arrival?”

“Funny you asked, Drone, we’re landing in the hangar now.”

I turned to the clone standing next to me, fellow Lieutenant, CT-4242, or Redux. His name came from the fact that his numbers repeated.

“Isn’t blowing up a cannon worthy of commandos, not a legion of 100 clone troopers?”

“I don’t know, Drone, but it’s our mission, I’ll take it on.”

“I guess so, Redux...hey, we’re landing.”

The LAAT/I descended into the hangar, and opened its bay doors. Seven of the clone troopers, including myself, stepped off of the troop bay, and made their way to a cluster of troopers, gathered around a yellow-striped clone, a macro-binocular resting in the ready position.

“Now, get your gear ready to be used, we’re fighting clankers. Kote, vode an!”

Many a “Kote!” arose from the hundred clones, and I certainly didn’t stop them. In fact, I joined them. All of the clones broke up and readied their gear for the inevitable apocalypse that would be called, by veterans and politicians alike, the Battle of Geonosis, or simply Geonosis.

0000, Zero Hour
Orbit over Geonosis

Reading the gauges from my view at the doorway between the troop bay and the pilot area, the altitude as we descended, rather rapidly for my taste, to the Geonosis surface was three klicks. Our speed was 285 klicks per hour, and getting faster.

“Approaching RV Alpha, prepare to land.”

I stepped to the bay door, and turned around. Of our 15 larties, 6 of them were Team A’s larties. I patched my helmet comm through to the designated other 41 troopers.

“Alright, Team A, this is what we’ve been training for, waiting for, and gearing for: to kick some Separatist rears. We’ll attack from the side. CT-4250 through CT-4260 each has a part of the explosive. If one of them falls, retrieve the part. Without it, we cannot plant the bomb.”

The bay doors opened, and the command staff of Team A of the 42nd Legion stepped out, their objective a klick ahead.
I directed the men to the right, and signaled them to crouch behind a rock cluster, no small feat for forty-two men. A battle droid patrol passed through the pathway, blithely unaware of their enemy, watching from the shadows. The pathway was surrounded by rocks, big enough for a man to hide, if he crouched. I waved my hand, and we moved on. The cannon stood directly in front of us, so I told my men to start moving to the right in order to flank it.

Suddenly, Ky’ram’s voice rang through my ear:


I replied,

“Negative, negative, don’t attack! We are not in position, repeat, we are NOT in position! We’ll get mowed down out here!”

But it was too late: the rest of the 42nd Legion had begun their attack of the main defenses of the cannon.

Suddenly turrets opened up on my men, who were without cover. Unmercifully, the heavy bolts disintegrated the plastoid shell encasing them. Most of us ducked, and avoided the slaughter. The shooting stopped abruptly, and I took the opportunity to count my men. None of the explosive-carrying troopers had died. But we had lost ten men. If this was the first skirmish of the war, one could only imagine the toll the 42nd Legion would suffer by the end of the war.

I motioned for my men to move forward, and they did, and we made it safely to the wall of the massive weapon. We were safe, for the time being, for the droids could not shoot over the wall at such a steep angle. I beckoned for the explosives, and they each handed me their part. I placed them together, and placed it on the wall.

--“Commander, this is Drone, I’ve planted the bomb.”--

--“Very good, Lieutenant. Report to RV Beta to blow this fierfekla cannon.”--

--“Yes, sir!”--

We were halfway to Beta when the bomb exploded. Apparently the clone I had given the detonator to had tripped, and activated the bomb. My gut dropped several feet when I turned around. Several clones of Team B were decapitated, limbless, etcetera. Most were just shaken, some had shrapnel wounds, but Ky’ram was okay. None of my men were hurt, but all this carnage paled in comparison to the wrath burning in Ky’ram’s eyes. His helmet had been knocked off in the explosion, so his anger was seething for all to behold. He stalked over, grabbed me by the neck, and forced me into a nearby rock formation.

“Y-you! You tripped the bomb!”

“No, sir, I didn’t have the detonator! Zip did!”

CT-4260, or Zip, looked over, a look of confusion about his person. He finally understood as Ky’ram let me go, and ran over to Zip, grabbing him by the neck as well. Zip looked like he would scream bloody murder when LAAT/i’s descended. Ky’ram let him go, and turned to face the larties. They had come to extract us.


Relatively short chapter, but it should get things rolling along...

I was looking for something to do, and I figured, "Hey, why not make RC helmets?". So far I have a grunt, and 3/4 of Victory Squad, my squad from Bedtime Stories.


RC-1875 Ky'ram:

RC-1000 Tripzer:

RC-1001 Uno:

So, anyone want me to make them an RC helmet? Keep in mind that I'm using a beefed-up version of Paint, so don't expect Photoshop, but I'll try my best.

Fanfiction / Bedtime Stories
« on: December 22, 2009, 05:35:44 PM »
This story takes place in 15 ABY, where a retired clone, RC-1875, is gearing his son up for bed. He decides to tell him a bedtime story from his youth...

“Tell me a bedtime story, Dad!”
“Okay, son. How about one from when I was a kid?”
“Okay, so, there I was, I was just born, on Kamino…”
 “Welcome, little one. This is your first day. Your designation will be RS-1875. We expect great things from you. You have been born into dangerous times…”
What? Who am I? Where am I? Why am I here?
I looked around the transparisteel cage I called home, staring at the Kaminoan in front of me. Taun We continued talking, and I looked to the sides, seeing thousands of tanks like mine in row after row.

22 BBY
0000 days before Geonosis

I stood with my squad in the mess hall, laughing as RC-1000, Tripzer, made an obscene joke.

Another commando, RC-2212, or Mirdan, stood up and yelled,
“Vode An, anybody?”

Various shouts fill the giant room, and a company of clones, 100 men, stand up, and begin singing the epic Mandalorian song their heritage, Jango Fett, had taught them.

Kandosii sa ka'rta, Vode an.
Coruscanta a'den mhi, Vode an.
Bal kote, darasuum kote,
Jorso'ran kando a tome.
Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad, Vode an…”

The one hundred baritone voices rang out, but they were interrupted by a Kaminoan.

“Beta Company, your training is now complete. You will be sent to Geonosis, to save the Jedi. You will go behind enemy lines, and take out targets imperative to the success of your brothers. Should you fail, you will probably die. Now, move to your rooms, prepare your armor, and report to the Laat/i gunships.”

0000 days before Geonosis

“Alright, move it, help your brothers in, close the doors, off ya go!”
“Tripzer, c’mon!”
“Yes sir!”

The doors close, and the gunship descends, out of the Star Destroyer. Black changes to reddish-brown, and a hologram appears.
--“Victory Squad, this is CC-1205. Your mission is to infiltrate a Geonosian spire containing a massive AA battery, which is raining haran on our forces. I trust your grey behinds, so move out. CC-1205, out.--
“You heard the man, let’s go. Objective has been loaded into your HUDs.”
The pilot, CT-0424, calls from the cockpit,
“Five minutes until we’re at the LZ.”
“Roger, Flyboy.”

Five minutes later…

“Landing! Thank you for riding Larty Starlines, we hope your flight with us was satisfactory. Please, ride with us again.”
“Oh, shove it.”

My squad and I jump out of the Larty, only to have a Hailfire Droid fire on it, the Larty disappearing in a ball of flame.
“Shab, everyone okay?”
“Yes sir.”
“Fine as a knife blade.”
“Let’s move then.”
I direct my squad toward the door to the spire, and motion for RC-1876, Sixer, to blow the door.
“My pleasure, sir.”
The door explodes, and we burst into the spire, mowing down everything in our path.


I made some minor nods to a couple of people, try and see if you can identify them. This trend certainly won't stop with this chapter...

Comments and questions are appreciated...

Fanart & Other Fan Creations / Ky'ram's Mando stuff WIP
« on: August 08, 2009, 10:04:45 PM »
First off, I'm starting on the helmet!

Most of the templates are cut out, I've got a dome that I need to cut, and I've been procrastinating for 3 months.

So, sorry for the blurriness of some of those photos...stupid camera.

General Star Wars / STAR WARS: In Concert
« on: July 25, 2009, 09:50:38 AM »


I love everything I've seen about it, plus....BOBA FETT!!!!

Unfortunately, they aren't coming to TX, but I'm trying to convince my dad to head up to Oklahoma.

I sez:


Fanart & Other Fan Creations / >>Clone faces-Taking requests!<<
« on: July 07, 2009, 09:08:40 AM »
To go with your nice Mereel clone trooper body, why not add to it with one of my clone faces? If you're looking for a clone trooper with the style of the TV series, I can do that. I can add scars, hair, anything you need.

Here are some examples of what I can do:

I had another one, but I don't know where it's gone!

Vode An,

Ky'ram Parjai'Kote

yes, I am taking requests, just sign this form:
Your Name:
CT Name:
Eye Color:
Hair Style:
Hair Color:
Scars, facial features:
3 days later:
*whistles* Any takers? If not.....ah, well, I tried!

Mandalorians / Boba Fett unmasked?????
« on: July 05, 2009, 09:57:01 PM »
Can it be? Does Manda'lor actually have a face?!

Well, here's some photos to clarify.


I honestly think the non-canon image looks like Boba to some extent.

« on: June 30, 2009, 10:18:05 AM »
Janku Zaft Kome and I (Ky'ram Parjai'Kote) are making a movie. We (or rather, I) made this fanfic as a prologue to our movie.

The prologue to the fanfic is attached.

Please comment, and please go to Youtube and search rlstealthyone to see the former trailer, and soon, the new trailer.

[attachment deleted by admin]

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