Ky'ram's Short Stories (Version Two!)

[Ky'ram Parjai'Kote]

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.

"Uh..."

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

"Xeph."

"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?"

"Yes."

"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 building...it...oh. 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. My...brother."

"Who?"

"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."

"Okay..."

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.

"Stop."

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.

"W-w-what...the..."

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]

[Shereshoy]

...whu???

[ARC_Commander_Colt]

...whu???

I concur. Who was the sniper again???

[Ky'ram Parjai'Kote]

Officially? A goon of Palp's spooks.

Unofficially? Whoever the shab you want him to be.

[ARC_Commander_Colt]

Oh, okay.

[Shereshoy]

Unofficially? Whoever the shab you want him to be.

Deadpool. That work for you?

[Ky'ram Parjai'Kote]

Why not? I didn't clarify. Wolverine made a cameo in Dred's comic, Deadpool can make a cameo in my short story! Why not?

 

[Shereshoy]

If he can break the fourth wall I odn't know why he couldn't find Star Wars.

[Ky'ram Parjai'Kote]

Thirteen days of inactivity! You're all fired!



New short!

Lam Before The Slaughter

[spoiler]Alpha ARC trooper A-71, or Lam, stood in the bay of the gunship hurtling toward his objective: the Separatist outpost containing the proton cannon which held the city of Kolona hostage. This cannon was guarded by not one, but two battalions of battle droids, Super Battle Droids, and droideka.
Basically, Lam thought, it's a suicide mission. Great.
--"Ready to go, brother?"--
"Eh. You won't see me again, so yeah. Yeah I am."
--"Opening doors."--
Lam gave a mock salute to the pilot, and fell out of the gunship, kama flapping as he descended. A blink opened his wingfoils, and he smoothed into a streamlined shape.
Until a burst of plasma took out one of the foils. Then it was no longer a controlled glide; more a chaotic tumble. With a loud crash, the ARC trooper hit the dirt. Hard.

Later...

The ARC trooper woke up, glancing around the crater he made. He bolted upright, and sprinted for the outpost, unstrapping his WESTAR M-5, and ignoring the pain and the alert that confirmed it. The gate opened, and several dozen spindly droids spilled out, and peppered his general area with superheated plasma. One managed to burn close to skin, but was stopped by his armored bodysuit.
Lam tossed a grenade toward them, and rushed them as it detonated, scrapping them all. Firing a quick burst into the mass of droid, he ducked into the first cover he could find, and unstrapped the dets, placing one on the support beam of the satellite tower in the middle of the base. He glanced backward, as a Super Battle Droid lumbered toward him. He managed to fire one shot at the droid, the bolt bouncing harmlessly into the sky. The droid, however, grasped the ARC by the throat, and tossed him into the wall, breaking another rib. The ARC, separated from his weaponry, made a dash for his rifle. He was stopped however by a hail of fire which burned his legs to black uselessness. He clattered to the floor, and gasped as the pain overwhelmed him.

Later...

The LAAT/i gunship pilot nodded to the vanishing holoimage, and grinned as he landed at the Separatist outpost, where the recently deceased ARC lay.

"Sorry it had to be this way...brother."

A-70, or Mal, knelt before the body, knowing that the life of a turncoat was a hard one.[/spoiler]

[Shereshoy]

Nice Pun there Ky. But, isn't plasma by deffinition superheated?

[Ky'ram Parjai'Kote]

Nice Pun there Ky. But, isn't plasma by deffinition superheated?

No nitpicking.

Yes, it is...deal with it. I needed an adjective.

[Shereshoy]

Well, how about  chilled? Because plasma is pretty much really, really fast gas molecules (non-scientificly) so they wouldn't be easy to shoot. But of you could make them closer to a soild and bypass the gas and liqued stage... This is so far from real science.... All of it

[Ky'ram Parjai'Kote]

I specialize in History, Math, and Etymology. Chemistry is a challenge.

[Shereshoy]

I'm more history, technology, and pyshcology/biology. But all sciences must be learned! As a UIL and TMSCA competitior I feel like it's important.

[Ky'ram Parjai'Kote]

Sigh...

I'm working on a new short, should be up in the next few days... Now.

Next!

The Shadow: A Prequel to Chapter Five (?) of Bedtime Stories

[spoiler]Silently, the four stormtroopers stalked through the forest. Their regular patrols punctuated by brief skirmishes with unseen foes warranted them the use of lethal force.
They split up. The first, a Corellian, Sergeant Tiro Ardenn, was pulled into the thick brush and promptly spit back out, a massive gut wound spilling his life-blood. The second, a Coruscanti, Duvnar Muro, fell to a snapped neck as a shadow slipped toward the third. By this time, the fourth had found the first body, yet the third was killed as the same weapon that had killed the first murdered Liran Starfire, a Corellian female. The fourth drew his gun, fired at the killer shadow, but bolted off toward the outpost.

--"Cyar'ika, we've got a runner."--

A loud bang scared the wildlife from the foliage.

--"Not anymore,"-- the gruff Concord Dawn accent answered.

--"I've breached the perimeter. Care to meet me?"--

--"Already on my way. The thing about that shot, Sush'ika, is that I fired from the hip."--

--"Liar, Ky'ika. Even Sev couldn't fire from the hip, and you're from the same genome."--

--"Say what you will. I'm on my way. It's a shame Beviin couldn't join us. He always loved killing stormtroopers, ever since that mission with Ca."--

Sushiri Vhetin unhooked the tattered cape from her left shoulder plate, and let it hang from the right. She glanced upward as the leaves moved slightly, then softened as gold visor with a macrofinder found its way through all the underbrush.

"Ky'ram Parjai'Kote, I wonder sometimes why I married you so suddenly after you saved my life."

"It's just my natural good charm and handsome looks that got you."

An elbow to the cod kept Ky'ram focused on the mission, and together, they blew open the door to the Imperial outpost.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Lyon Orion fell from his chair as the door exploded in a cloud of duracrete. The stormtrooper Captain drew his E-11 blaster, and fired twelve expert shots at the intruders.

All of them missed.

Lyon was brought to his knees by slugs to the thighs; his eyes glazed with the shock and pain of the wounds, he gasped as a petite Mandalorian female grasped his collar plate, shoved a cold blade of what seemed like fire and ice combining in death into his abdomen, and dropped him to the floor to die.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Clear!"

"Check. Alright, cyar'ika. That was gruesome, that kill back there. I mean, bes'kad to the chest; that's got to hurt."

"It does, Ky. Which is why I implemented it."

The two were interrupted by a thump on the ceiling.

"Erm, Ky?"

"Cover!"

The ceiling collapsed, and along with it came almost certain death: a Dark Trooper.

Sushiri charged, threw her bes'kad into the eye socket of the cyborg, and, with a snap-hiss, activated her aging lightsaber. The dark trooper raised its arm, and swept downward, sweeping the female off her feet and into the wall, where she crumpled and protected her broken rib.
The menacing creation, a dark trooper Phase II, stood 2.82 meters tall, dwarfing Ky'ram, who now pelted it with Verpine slugs from his Verpine Sniper Rifle. The Mandalorian charged the cyborg, and ducked under and clambered up the back of the droid, firing wildly into its back, then shoving a thermal detonator as far into the exposed back as he could. The droid exploded as Ky'ram flew away from it, and crumpled to its knees as Ky'ram hit the floor. Sparks flew, and the dark trooper collapsed.

Ky'ram scrambled to his injured wife, and carefully laid her on her back.

"Sushiri, you okay?"

"I'm...fine, cyar'ika. May have broken a rib, though..."

"We'll get you out of here."

"What about the bounty?"

"Frak the Rebellion, frak the Empire. Word is that there's a push by the Empire into the Mandalore sector, so we need to get back. I'll have Uno pick us up."

Ky'ram carried his wife gingerly out of the outpost, and called for extract. The YT-1930 responded quickly, the ramp descending before it even touched down. A yellow-decked Mandalorian grasped Sushiri and carried her into the ship, and Ky'ram hefted himself onto the ship. Glancing backward at the outpost, he grinned underneath the gold visor, and disappeared into the shadow. [/spoiler]

[Shereshoy]

My post count is glitching!!
But this is just to let you know, I am still reading.

[Ky'ram Parjai'Kote]

Good.

Your reading and devotion to Minecraft is rewarded, for in my spare spare spare time, I have experimented in different writing forms.

Such as this. No title, but hopefully it makes sense:

[spoiler]You're the first down the line. As your feet hit the duracrete, you raise your carbine. You catch a glimpse of your target, and will your body to move faster. You hear the bolts whizzing past your helmet, but you don't care. You hear the pilot and your brothers scream as the gunship is hit, but you don't care. You continue on, and you fire a short burst at the fleeing Trandoshan.

You're aware of the sudden change in temperature as you enter the cool compound, but all you're concerned about is the lizard running from you. You take down the spindly droids that lunge out of the rooms alongside the seemingly long corridor, and continue your pursuit of the Trandoshan.

The stairs trouble you. They take you further into the compound, something you don't like. But adrenaline is fueling you; forget logical thought. You manage to wing the lizard in the elbow, but he's a lizard, it doesn't matter.

You enter a wide room, but gasp as your stomach feels suddenly emptier than normal. You crumple to the ground and your target looms over you. He pulls a sidearm, aims at your helmet, and fires.

You're a clone trooper, but that's irrelevant: you're dead.[/spoiler]

[Shereshoy]

Brilliant. Positivley brilliant. Now I need to get Eparavu to beat some of that freshly pumped up ego out of you.

[Ky'ram Parjai'Kote]

What ego? I don't have an ego...

Mwuhu...mwuhuhu...mwuhuhahahah. Mwuhahahahahahaha!

[Shereshoy]

  I practice my evil laugh on occasion.

[Ky'ram Parjai'Kote]

Thread, arise!

So, with Fire and Glory up and running, I figured there was one part that needed to be clarified. Rather than a rambly explanation, I decided to write it.

One Last Message:
[spoiler]
The Mandalorian lay dying as he recorded one last message.
--”Cyar’ika...everything’s fine. Don’t...don’t worry about me. Tell Kom’ika and Shush’ika I love them...but most of all, I love you. Take care of the kids, cyar’ika. I’m...ready to meet my Buir...”--
* * * * * * * *

The small fighter landed in Aargau Spaceport, the single occupant gearing up physically and mentally for the daunting task ahead. This man’s task was relatively simple: destroy the Bounty Hunter Union Headquarters and make it out alive to collect his million dollars. This man was Kom’rk Parjai’Kote. He knew he could do it━he was a Parjai’Kote. Yet deep in his subconscious a nagging thought tugged for his attention.
But can I make it? It’s me versus everyone in there...
Kom’rk Parjai’Kote shoved the thought aside and lowered the ramp.
* * * * * * * *

The single hunter on watch at the midnight hour, a Trandoshan named H’hlugti, bristled at the faint sound of a breach charge being affixed to the door. He darted from his place at the security desk and blended seamlessly into the shadows, lurking, waiting, hunting: his hunted was the hunter.
* * * * * * * *

Kom’rk ducked as the charge detonated, then raised his Verpine Sniper Rifle and began his systematic clearing of likely spots. The sound of steps on broken glass that were not his stopped the Mandalorian. He cycled through thermal, nightvision, and ultraviolet: nothing showed. He swiveled, fired a shot at the ripple of air, then drew a vibroblade and swung wildly at the now-visible H’hlugti, whose scales had prevented serious damage from the Verpine slug. The Trandoshan drew a blade of his own, a cruel twisted scimitar, and precisely stabbed at the cinches in the armor.
The Mandalorian staggered as one stab found its mark, in between the abdominal and right thoracic plate. Pushing himself against a pillar, the gasping Mandalorian drew a sidearm and fired weakly at the lizard’s head as it swung the killing blow. The slug pierced the Trandoshan’s nostril, proceeded through the brain, causing massive tissue damage, and ending H’hlugti’s life. The massive lizard collapsed on top of Kom’rk, the sharp edge of the scimitar slicing through Kom’rk’s side, piercing an artery and hastening the death of the Mandalorian.

Sensing his death, Kom’rk frantically pulled a comlink, clicked in a number, and put it to his helmet.

The Mandalorian lay dying as he recorded one last message.
--”Cyar’ika...everything’s fine. Don’t...don’t worry about me. Tell Kom’ika and Shush’ika I love them...but most of all, I love you. Take care of the kids, cyar’ika. I’m...ready to meet my Buir...”--[/spoiler]

[Delta 42]

That was...sad.

[Shereshoy]

WAIT! I thought.... Never mind. You need to vary the names of your characters, they're as confusing as crap to keep up with.

[Ky'ram Parjai'Kote]

You're welcome. A daily dose of confusion makes everyone confused.

[Shereshoy]

Thus the confusion.

[Lil Vod]

I like it. Good job vod. 

[Ky'ram Parjai'Kote]

Okay. Technically not Star Wars, but I didn't want to clutter the Non-Star Wars Fanfic section with another thread.

Be warned; not for seriously squeamish people.

Homage to Edgar Allen Poe: Think Me Not Mad

[spoiler]Th-they...it c-can’t b-be! No! It c-can’t be f-following me! R-run, must r-run, far, far, f-far away.
Think me not mad, for I am not. The shadow hunting me deludes you; makes you think I am insane--I am not! You cannot say that, you have not endured the shadow. If you wish, you can. Merely follow my instructions.

You decided not to follow me? Then so be it. You will listen to my tale of the shadow, that terrible shadow.

It all began one day in my tailor’s store--42 King’s Boulevard, Mayfair, London, if you do decide to witness the shadow--an ordinary day, I had seen few customers. But there was indeed something...peculiar about that day. I realized the peculiarity of that day--think me not mad--when the harbinger of the shadow arrived at my doorstep.
It was a heinous beast: quadripedal legs jutting from its squat, furry body; the snout of the thing utterly horrible, hosting inside its foaming jaws a million razor teeth; its fur mangled and gnarled by years of bringing doom upon a select unfortunate few.
It was able, supernaturally--think me not mad--to force the door open, and hold it in that place. It stared at me, its black fur radiating pure evil. It glared at me with those pupil-less eyes; I shudder to recollect those thoughts. It barked once, then, as I flinched, vanished. The door slammed shut loudly, and my stomach seemed to drop the height of The Queen’s Bell Tower.
I tried in vain to continue working, but the sound of the mutts scrounging for food outside reminded me of that sinister beast.
Suddenly the sky darkened instantly, and a fog filled the streets--think me not mad--and crept ever closer to my storefront.
I knew not what was occurring; I was but a simple tailor; what would the demons want with me?

My answer came when my surroundings morphed into flame and blood, crimson and crackling orange; an unseen force pushed me slowly forward. A bark, a solitary bark, one lonely bark resounded through my skull, shattering my resolve--think me not mad. I fell into an abyss of blood and remains of my fellow tortured; screaming as I descended deeper, ever deeper, deeper still into the center of this terrestrial ball.

I arrived in what appeared to be a shipwreck, deep underwater; yet needed I not breathe: there was no water to prevent from entering my throat.
I walked upon the soggy planks of the deck--think me not mad--hearing groans and death cries after each step. I cried out in despair; the shadow heard me and engulfed me, choking me with the darkness. I gagged, and collapsed.

When I awoke, I awoke in a cell at the London Asylum. They thought me mad--they shall pay; dearly; gruesomely; I will escape; you shall see my name all over London; not in the papers as a hero: but as a villain; slaughtering millions! I shall escape the shadow; whatever the cost!

You; dear reader; make not the mistake of thinking me mad; I implore thee; think me not mad; I am not--I am not; I am not mad: think me not mad![/spoiler]

[Delta 42]

42 King’s Boulevard

Easter Egg?

[Ky'ram Parjai'Kote]

In a way, yes.

Mainly as a homage to my favorite number this side of Betelgeuse, but yeah. Anything you want it to be.