#Penguin Writes: Star Wars
I dont choose when I post my wips, the frog in my brain does
Master Shaak Ti was a very kind, understanding, and patient Master. She always had been when training him, and he was glad that she hadn’t changed at all since he had been her Padawan.
She hadn’t changed that much since his first mission with her as a Knight, and she wasn’t different in how she treated him now. It was easy for her to pick up on his weariness.
The mission had been long and grueling, nothing that he and Master Shaak Ti couldn’t handle on their own, but still, rescuing a duo of baby Night Brothers— his brothers— from Dathomir had been… nerve wracking. It had taken all of Shaak Ti’s patience and wit, and everything that Maul had begrudgingly learned from his Clanmates, to come to an agreement with the Nightmother.
The Village that Maul’s brothers had come from would be removed from any Nightsister activity, the head of the Village given a com directly to the temple in the case that the Nightsisters didn’t hold up their end of the deal, and Maul would take his two brothers to Coruscant. In return, the Jedi would find a way to break Ventress from Dooku’s hold— something that Maul very much looked forwards to in the upcoming battles between them.
Still, he sighed as he trudged wearily through the temple, holding one brother in each arm— they were so small still, just babies, really— and heading back towards his shared quarters. By all means, a Knight should have had their own Quarters, unlike when they were a Padawan living with their Master or when they were initiates living with their dorm-mates and clan-mates.
But Maul was an interesting case.
Zabrak were solitary beings, yet Maul prefered to know that there was a second member of his created clan nearby when possible.
That reminded him, though, he’d have to introduce the rest of his self-made clan to the two. Savage and Feral, he had been told. His brothers— His.
If anything, the only protest would be from the Council because he wasn’t supposed to keep children out of the Crèche.
Either way, he decided as the doors to his quarters opened, he’d keep the two as close as he could. The whole Attachment rule was stupid anyways, obviously the Council didn’t see how his Clan was still “light” and firmly connected to one another.
Maul made a face as he stepped in, seeing his Clan-Siblings sprawled across the floor.
“What the hell happened with you all?” he asked as Bultar rolled to her feet, pulling Lissarkh and Bant up with her. Agen sat up as well, brushing his hair back.
“The usual,” Bant sighed as Sha simply shifted from where she was sitting on the Sofa.
Maul nodded to her before he fixed his Clan-Brother with a pointed look. “I thought you were in Huttspace, Kolar.”
The other Zabrak snorted, arms crossing. “For that long? Who am I, Vos? I get my work done quickly and easily.”
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another six sentences but from something different
“Knight Sawn, Knight Koon, Knight Lissarkh,” Yoda greeted, “To hear from you suddenly, a surprise this is.”
“Perhaps,” Sha said, “But I recently got a feeling that something was wrong.”
Palpatine only looked confused at that, as did Skywalker and Ahsoka but the other Jedi just nodded.
“Yes, we recently lost all contact with Master Plo Koon and his men,” Mace Windu said and Bultar glanced to her crèchemate and cousin-through-lineage who was silent and still. “We have... assumed the worst.”
“Pardon my bluntness,” Lissarkh spoke up, arms crossing, “But masters did it not occur to you to ask the other Kel Dor among the Order?”
Yes I’m still sad that they missed the chance to have three more badass ladies in Canon for TCW because they needed the t e n s i o n for Ahsoka and Anakin. No I wont let this go
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Not the Detection Method but it *is* Six Sentence Sunday
“This is Plo,” Fae said happily, and that was the happiest Tyvokka had seen him in years. “My Asys’na, the child of my sibling— my brother’s, Lorz’s, eldest. They’re about six years old standard.”
“Younger than you had been when you arrived,” T’ra teased lightly and Fae huffed.
“Well, they’re quite a bit stronger than I in the Force. Ban and Nita suspected that they’d overtake one of them as either the Storm Caster or Wind Walker of the Sages— had Lorz not agreed to allow me to take them with me.”
The elder Kel Dor had such fondness in his voice and it was clear to see that this child was was someone his dear friend held close to his heart.
For anyone new here, Kel Dor in my writing don’t have the same concept of Gender as humans and don’t really ‘chose’ their gender (if they decided to choose one at all) until they’re ready
Also Fae Koon is the name I’ve given to Plo Koon’s Canon-Legends Uncle who remains unnamed but was a Knight during the Stark Hypespace War
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The Sith Detection Method Progress/Draft Update 1
I figured that each chapter, if I do full length chapters, which is likely, will be roughly 1-2k words each. I have no idea whats going on but I’ve accepted that this is my life now
I don’t plan on doing one of these regularly, but I did want y’all to know I am writing
Sometimes, Mace Windu wondered if there was something wrong with his friends.
Specifically, if there was something wrong with Kit Fisto— Master Jedi, member of the Council, part of the reason why almost everyone’s Lightsabers had duel crystals to work under water, and duelist protégé just like his two Lineage Brothers, Yan Dooku and Cin Drallig.
“Run that by me again, Master Fisto?” He asked, arms crossed. The Nautolan just grinned a bit, tresses curling.
“I have a full proof plan on figuring out who the Sith behind Dooku is,” he said again, “It’s actually really simple too.”
Mace was two parts exasperated and one part curious, because often when Kit said “really simple” it was either much more difficult than he meant or it was actually rather asinine.
But still he closed his eyes, took a breath, and then looked back at the other Councilor.
“Very well. What is it? And it better not be the same as Adi and Stass’ ‘taunting them on the holonet’ plan, Master Fisto.”
He just laughed. “Relax, Mace, it’s not that bad.”
That gave him zero clues on what his so-called plan was.
Kit’s grin was just widening now. “So we all know how, like, everyone in the Temple loves Plo, right? I mean, obviously, I do, I had to fight six different people when we first filed for Union in the Order.”
“Where is this going, Master Fisto?” Mace asked, feeling a headache coming on.
“Look all I’m saying is that he’s decently liked outside the Order too right, I mean not like Kenobi and Skywalker are, but that’s just the whole human thing—“
“Please get to the point.”
“— and so basically, I’ve concluded that if someone doesn’t like Plo, they’re super shady, if not flat out evil.”
There was silence as Mace just stared at Kit.
He had hoped too much that this plan of Kit’s — it wasn’t really a plan, just a theory— wouldn’t be absolutely insane.
He would humor the other Master for a bit— after all, this was probably just Kit’s way of shaking off emotion from a rather rough campaign. Though he wasn’t far off the mark, Plo Koon was rather well liked among the Order (a beloved figure, really) and a good chunk of the Republic Worlds.
“I assume you have someone in mind, Kit Fisto? Because this sounds more like a theory than a plan to me.”
Kit waved him off. “Of course I have someone in mind, I’m not stupid— don’t comment on that.”
Mace wisely kept his mouth shut, raising a brow in a ‘well, get on with it’ sort of way.
“The Chancellor, former senator of Naboo? Sheev Palpatine? The one we keep meeting with for some reason?”
Mace rubbed his eyes. Yep, this was it. Kit Fisto had officially lost it. The War had officially driven the Nautolan to madness.
He sighed. “Fisto, how did you even come to the conclusion that the Chancellor dislikes Master Plo in the first place.”
The Nautolan raised a brow at him, tresses curling and flicking. “I know you’re overly tired like ninety percent of the time, but have you seriously not noticed?”
“Are you sure you’re not just being biased over this?”
Kit gave him a flat look. “Mace. I know I have a reputation as a loving husband who would give Plo anything he asked for and also as the resident Council idiot, but I’m not that stupid, and you know this.”
“Yes, apologies, but still… are you certain you’re not reading too much into it?” Mace asks. Kit hums, shaking his head.
“No,” he tells him. “I talked to a few others, Shaak, Saesee, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka—“
“Padawan Tano has bias as well, she’s your child.”
“She’s Plo’s kid, but good points! Depa agrees with me, right Depa?”
The Nautolan turned, calling out into the hall as he asked Mace’s former Padawan. Mace rubbed his temples again as his former Padawan poked her head into Mace’s office.
“Is this about the Chancellor being a Sith Lord because he obviously doesn’t like Master Plo and how Dooku totally isn’t a true Sith because he definitely spared Master Plo’s life on Geonosis?” she asked and Kit nodded.
“Well, the Chancellor part, I’m still not on board for Master Kcaj’s Dooku theory because I don’t like Dooku.”
“Fair enough, I don’t either.”
Just some notes:
If you’re new here: Obviously, I’m the local PloKit writer apparently. Therefore, biased Kit is biased but also the biggest dork of a husband. Also, I herded Cin into the Yoda lineage with the rest of em because Yoda is listed as his teacher in saber training so like. why not.
This is crack taken seriously, so it’s not how I normally write Kit (mostly) but either way. I might change some things up in final post depending on how it goes
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The Sith Detection Method Plot List (or some junk like that)
Just a heads up not all of these points will be gone over in the fic in detail or at all, I’m not sure how long I want to make it, because this was initially just going to be a dumb oneshot and I have yet to finish the Mando Fic and I want to finish that up before starting another long fic
but!! this is a rough general outline? idk y’all are crazy but I love you
Obviously Kit has the Plan ™ and Mace has the galaxy’s biggest fucking headache ever
“If they don’t like plo, they sus, i would know. I married him.” “That’s just being biased” “Nah bro, I had to fight like six people”
Kit actually isn’t a dumbass and has actual reasons why Pal Friendpatine probably doesn’t like Plo (ie the Malevolence
Now we gotta bring Plo into the convo because you cant discuss a plan like this without telling him
“As flattering as this is, Kit, how do you even plan on confirming your theory?” “Pshh that’s easy, Plo— HEY ANAKIN!”
Anakin is very confused but goes along with it
“you do realize that if Palpatine tries to deny he dislikes me, I might have to fake-date him” “Yeah, I know, and I’m not happy about that option but we do what we must for the republic.”
Palps’ initial dislike. Anakin is even more confused because “But master plo is awesome?? Why wouldn’t you like Master plo? is it because he’s friends with Master Fisto and Master Ti and Master Tiin? that’s kinda racist”
Also Palps is both homophobic and racist but he’s gotta figure out a way to make it work because Plo’s got that electric judgement and Baran Do secrets
Fake Date AU start I Guess???
Oh No Sheev Gets Feelings (You fool, you absolute buffoon)
Maul shows up to do some revenge against Palps because apparently that kel dor is palpatine’s (fake) lover
Dad Koon intensifies and ol’ sheevie can’t kill Maul or Savage now (rip feral you died too soon)
Maul is the asshole cat son who keeps hissing at sheev and “tells” plo that Sheev is the sith
Plo’s just like “yes, yes, i know” “Then what the hell are you doing?” “Well currently stealing all of his assets and also the control data for the Clones’ implant chip from him :)“ “Ohh... can I have the house on Glee Anselm?” “Which one, son? Because your real father would probably like to keep one for the two of us, being a Nautolan and all” “OHHHHHH” (Savage: “can we have the one with the trees? I’ve always wanted a treehouse”)
Plo Koon takes the house in the divorce and also all of the assets and also exposes him as the sith
Palps attempts to attack? only to get yeeted by the Real Husband™ and also their like 300 sons
Maul is still the asshole cat-son to Kit
Wolffe and Maul both give Kit the beat down™ i guess
Maul’s hate boner for Kenobi is curbed because Bultar and Lissarkh can and will kick his ass for waking them and Ahsoka and also Nahdar and Bant up at ungodly hours of the morning for screaming “KENOBI”
They Siblings™ go back and rescue Feral
idk maybe Plo has to fight Shaak ti for rights to train Savage because “he’S MY SON??” “NEITHER YOU NOR YOUR UNCLE TRAINED YOUR RELATIVES, PLO KOON, DON’T START NOW”
Eeth Koth who did not leave the order (he was just on an undercover mission guys) gets to train Feral
Plo Koon still has all of Sheev’s assets :)
The Jedi Order is no longer broke uwu
Jk they’re a little broke. Just not as much
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03:00 When The Temple is Silent
Fandom(s): Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Star Wars (Prequel Trilogy)
Summery: What happens to the Guards when their night shift ends? Well, The Temple Guard is full of surprises.
I've actually been meaning to get this one out to the world because I love the Temple Guard, so here we go. This does feature a hell of a lot of OCs because the only Guard we know of is the Grand inquisitor and Cin if you count him as part of the Guard
For reference, though, Varrom is the name I gave said inquisitor because I can't just call him Grand Inquisitor, now can I?
When 03:00 Standard rolled around, the Temple Guards out on the front stair cracked their necks, rolled their shoulders, and stretched a their backs out a bit before they seamlessly swapped places with their near-identical replacements. The change was so neat and practiced, one could have mistaken the four who had walked up to the original four as having turned around and walked back.
However, instead of heading to their Quarters like many would have thought, the four guards moved silently through the long halls. They were silent as they moved, moving with a purpose— though one not sinister.
Well. To most at least.
The door to a warmly lit room was opened and the four stepped in. As soon as the door closed behind them, though, hands moved to remove their hoods and masks.
“How’s that shoulder doing, Mari?” Nira asked as she shook out her Lekku. The blind human guard just gave her a lazy grin back.
“Been better,” she said as they all walked into the room. Mari and Nira both settled down in the rather comfortable chairs as the other two removed their masks and hoods. Hakra Dorgoa and Ashe Lark.
“I still can’t believe you ran right into a wall and injured your shoulder that way,” Hakra snorted as he moved over to one of the tables and Ashe joined the two over in the sitting area. “Doesn’t your Force Sight map the world out around you?”
“Hakra, my Zabrak friend, it doesn’t matter when I choose not to use it.”
“... why would you not use it, Gildow?”
The human in question just laughed as she settled back.
The room that the four guards gathered in was large and comfortable— it could be considered a break-room to some, though for those who ended up on the Night Watch, it was more or less where they crashed until they were needed again. That, or the snuck into Master Drallig’s quarters and woke when Bene tripped over one of them in the dark.
Master Drallig took good care of the Guard— he had been one once too. He had taken one look at the rather Spartan break room for those on duty and waiting for their shift that he himself had used before sending a request for a complete overhaul. The aches and pains the Guard had suffered from dozing off on the hard floors of the room, or the rather hard chairs, had vanished after several weeks of various Guards just dropping into softer chairs, cushions, and the long sofa against the back wall.
One of Master Drallig’s Padawan’s tasks was always dropping off a food supply for them— because energy bars could only go so far.
Ashe dropped into the chair next to Nira, ruffling his pink-dyed hair before settling. Mari seemed to have already dozed off and Hakra snorted at that as he glanced over.
“She’s gonna regret sleeping in her robes,” he sighed and Nira laughed.
“We always do,” she said, “I’ll have Yin and Syo help me when the two get here.”
“I’m surprised we’re the first here, to be honest,” Ashe yawned. “Who else was on schedule for tonight?”
“Tacar’s with Ner Askau and a few others down by the Archives,” Nira listed.
“Oof, drew the short straw again,” Hakra laughed as he rummaged through the crate of more snack-like foods that Master Drallig’s current Padawan— Padawan Bene McCallum— had brought down at the beginning of the week.
Ashe hummed in agreement. “Master Lofanurra has Roq and the two are down at the lower entrances with some of the others— Flin, Marcus, Edel… I think Mavvo and Cimzo?”
“Sounds about right, the usual patrol. Syo has two others with her and Yin'Shinhen patrolling the Vents. Syo's made sure to always have a group do that ever since Bane got in,” Nira added. “And Varrom is with Tacar.”
“Poor kid’s got Dead Night Shift too? Sucks, he's had them for three nights in a row. Remind me to tell Master Drallig. Usually, those things don't slip his eye.”
“In all fairness, Master Drallig’s been buried under paperwork because of the Bane incident. We’ve been on Dead Night for three days as well, Ash,” Hakra pointed out as he walked back over, tossing his human friend a pack of dried fruit before tearing into a pack of jerky.
“Fair enough,” Ashe sighed, stifling a yawn as he opened his own packet. The door slid open and the large Togorian figure of Yin’Shinhen ducked in, removing his mask as soon as he was inside and shaking his fur out. Syo slipped in behind him, hers already under her arm as she shook her long hair out as well.
Ashe raised a hand in greeting. “Hey.”
“Evening— well, night,” Yin’Shinhen greeted back, padding over and peering over at Mari. “She asleep?”
“Yeah,” Nira chuckled, getting up. “Help me move her to the bunk room?”
“Yeah, I got her, don’t worry.”
It really didn’t take much effort from the Togorian to pick the human woman up, gently hefting her over a single shoulder as he and Nira padded off to a side room where the Guard often bunked when they didn’t wish to return to their Quarters— and it was often used by the Guards who had just finished a Night Shift.
Syo flopped down onto the freed-up chair. “So Master Koth tripped up the stairs to the Archives today,” she said as she stifled a yawn. The feathers that covered where her ears would have been had she been fully human twitched in amusement and Hakra snorted.
“Were Windu or Gallia or any of the other Councilors there?”
“Nope,” she hummed, popping the ‘p’, “I think he actually just tripped on his robes.”
Ashe raised a brow. “Really, now? That’s surprising, though, because either way normally Master Koth is more coordinated,” he noted as he held his hand out. The Datapad on the shelf that belonged to him was pulled into his hand and he opened up a new datasheet.
“About Thirteen-Hundred, I was taking my shift at the Archives with Lofanurra when it happened.”
“And it was Master Koth?”
The Human hummed, nodding as he tapped it out on the screen. “Right, that’s logged then.”
The Whseirir grinned, feathers twitching again. “Nice. Aside from Master Koth's incident, we ran into a few padawans in the vents— not sure who by name but Yin might. Oh and we can confirm that the Tooka that Master Rancisis owns does in fact live in his beard sometimes.”
“Skywalker was eating beetles again in the east wing, a secluded hall,” Yin’shihen said as he padded back in, tail flicking as he sat down. “Down where Kita was taking their sixteen-hundred shift.”
“Another bug-eating moment then.”
“It is Skywalker, this is the eighth time this month.”
Ashe shook his head, snorting. “Okay, fair enough, is there anyone who we need to release some details on?”
“I still want to release those baby photos of Krell,” Hakra groaned as the door slid open again.
“What did he do this time?” Ner Askau asked as he stepped in, Varrom and Tacar. Syo waved at the Pau'an and Nautolan as they entered behind the red Nikto.
“Hey you three, how’d the first half of the Archive shift go?” Nira asked as she walked out of the bunk room.
“Same as ever.” Varrom sighed.
“Haunted chills and weird noises in the vents,” Tacar finished with a grin, violet tresses curling. Varrom lightly smacked his Nautolan age-mate and she stuck her tongue out at him. Nira sighed but smiled.
“That was probably Syo,” she said, shaking her head as the Whseirir huffed in mock offense. “Anyways, Mari’s already knocked out, make sure you keep quiet when you go to the bunk room.”
“Usually she’s up still,” Varrom mused but the two both shrugged before moving past the Twi’Lek. Nira smiled, moving back to the rest of the group and settling down in one of the chairs.
“Productive day?” she asked and Syo grinned.
“So much content, we should ask Master Drallig if we can get recording functions in our helms.”
“Don’t bother with that, he’s overworked already.”
“There’s no such thing as not enough blackmail though, Ashe!”
“Is that even a real phrase!?”
Yin’Shinhen just shook his head, tail flicking as the two started to bicker.
It was normal, for them all to have their spats, their lighthearted arguments, and mock fights. Bickering like siblings about this or that.
Because that’s just what the Temple Guard was, a strange sort of family hidden behind white and beige robes, stark white masks, and silent uniformity.
And a family that just happened to collect all sorts of blackmail on every other Jedi inside the temple.
The Whseirir are not Star Wars canon, I tried my hand at race creating and Syo is one of them and i like what i did. I'll probably post about them later on, just not here.
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Stays in space. Usually.
The medication that kept one’s biological imperatives at bay normally didn’t fail, but that only matters when you take the right dose.
AKA: A week and a half alone in space + heat = proceed at your own risk
Hello and Goodnight
Fandom(s): Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Star Wars (Prequel Trilogy)
Summery: Ahsoka wanted to see the meteor shower, and unexpected visitor shows up at the docs but he's not an unwelcome one. || AU of an AU— Wolffepack against Child Abuse x MerMay AU
Pairing(s): PloKit, Micah/Plo (Past)
Part 2/3 of the May the 4th fics I have planned. Is this the cursed one? Probably not.
It's also my MerMay bit, though It might not be the only one I do for MerMay, we shall see
Children, Plo Koon knew, were precious. From the moment he had held his baby sister— he had been six years old then— to his career as a teacher, and then as part of the Child Protective Services, to when he held his niece for the first time, to when he first started acting alone outside of the Protective Services…
Yes, children were very precious.
The first children that he had adopted had been when his best friend and first partner had still been alive and with them. They were the same age, though one had been eight when she had been brought into the family, the other seven.
Lissarkh had been the eight-year-old, and had survived in back alleyways, eating scraps from the ground and dumpsters, and had bitten him when he had lifted her up out of the one behind his and Micah’s apartment building. Now she was just older than Wolffe, her hair dyed green and working with Mace to uncover smuggling rings with the Courscant Police.
Or she would be, had she not decided to go back to school. And Plo was fine with covering the costs for both her and her sister.
Bultar Swan had been Plo’s— and Micah’s— very first child. She had been taken in a year before Plo rather unceremoniously found Lissarkh behind their apartment building.
Taken from abusive parents in the city of Kuat, Plo hadn’t the heart to allow the child to enter the Forster System and appealed to Micah then for help.
Ah, but that had been such a long time ago.
Micah had been shot and killed close to fifteen years ago. Bultar and Lissarkh had been twelve, and Lissarkh had only managed to have four years' worth of rather fuzzy memories with him.
Still, in grief and death, he didn’t stop his care of other children. When Bultar and Lissarkh were twelve, he had found Wolffe and his brothers.
And life continued from there.
Plo loved all his children. It was as simple as that.
And as the night continued on, and the embers of the fire began to die, he knew that. Children were precious, and he loved his children.
Plo gazed over the sleeping forms of Boost and Sinker, tangled with Nex and Nox, and Comet. Warthog, Ghost, and Wildfire sprawled in the grass nearby, and Ahsoka wedged between Wolffe and Tracer, with Bultar and Lissarkh nearby and a number of their other brothers and sisters laying in the grass around the once blazing bonfire.
Ahsoka wanted to watch the meteor shower that was due overhead rather soon. Somehow that had translated into inviting as many of the ‘Plo's bros’ from across Coruscant as possible and everyone having a cookout and bonfire in the fields by the docs.
Plo didn’t mind.
It was lively and rather amusing to watch Ahsoka and Maul gang up on Anakin and Obi-Wan. To meet Bultar and Lissarkh’s friends again, to see Sha again— though she didn’t live too far from Dorin, just on the edge of the city and no more than a three-hour ride to her apartment building.
It had been a good evening.
But now the children were all settled down to rest until they woke back up due to the numerous alarms set on various phones.
A splash down at the docks made him perk up a bit, folding his glasses back into their case and setting them on the picnic table. He stood, picking his way through the sleeping bodies and walking down to the docks.
Data and Cable (And Plo would never question the boys on the names they wished to choose for themselves) had a small boat that was docked there for when Data needed silence from the noise of the house, but that wasn’t what had alerted him and that's not what had splashed down there.
It didn’t take long to get there, nor did it require much effort to find the switch that turned on the lone lantern at the end of the dock, and a familiar form was leaning on the planks.
Had the figure been a normal human, Plo might’ve been concerned about why they were on the end of his dock, but they weren’t— he wasn’t.
Not with green skin, large, dark eyes, and tentacle-like tresses instead of hair. No, this one was not human, though he did walk around in a human skin sometimes. He was a Mer, simple as that, though very different in appearance than the mermaids so commonly seen in movies and fiction. Most all of them were.
Nonetheless, Plo chuckled as he walked down the dock towards the figure.
“Hello, Kit,” he greeted, sitting down and crossing his legs upon reaching the end. A grin full of razor-sharp teeth was flashed his way before melting into a quizzical look.
“No glasses tonight?”
He chuckled. “No,” he told the other, “The light isn’t as bright at night, so my eyes aren’t bothered.”
Kit seemed to ponder on it for a moment before accepting it, something Plo assumed he would, considering how he knew a number of other Mer from the depths of the sea who were also sensitive to light.
Kit had been showing up at Dorin’s docks for a few months now, ever since Wolffe had accidentally fished him up, really. And then, of course, Plo had connected the dots a few weeks later and had met Kit Fisto the Mer-Rights activist, Kit’s human guise.
It had been a good few months of friendship, and, later, a rather interesting romantic partnership.
And Plo rather enjoyed the time spent talking with Kit.
“So what brings you by here?” he asked and the green Mer just flicked his tail, a few drops of water splashing onto his cheek where the medical mask wasn’t covering it.
“Heard some noise when I was on my way back from Aayla’s bar and decided to pop in,” Kit hummed loftily, before be paused. “Foul's still missing, by the way, so if you hear anything make sure to pass it on to her so she can get it to us.”
Plo nodded slowly at the mention of the other two— while Aayla herself wasn’t a Mer, nor was Foul, the two were still targets for the Creatures Trade. A faerie and a yeti, far from their homes, and now Foul was missing.
“I will,” he assured the green-skinned Mer, who just grinned again.
“So, why are all of you and yours out this late?” he asked, leaning on his elbows as his tresses curled, flicking drops of water.
Plo hummed, glancing back at his sleeping children. “Ahsoka wanted to watch the Meteor Shower,” he told him simply.
The Mer clicked softly, chuckling before nodding. “Yes, a rather wonderful sight, even for us. If the waters are clear enough out in the open ocean, many of us head to the surface to watch when astronomical events such as this happen.”
“I think humans and non-humans can agree on that at least,” Plo chuckled softly as well, “I studied space in school a long time ago, and once wished to go, but ended up on a different path.”
Kit hummed, tail and tresses flicking as he listened. “You humans are so interesting, thinking about duties you want to do for the future, even if they don’t come to pass.”
“While you Mer live in the moment.”
The said Mer just laughed, head tossed back. “Of course,” he agreed. “Why worry over something that is uncertain, and fret over what is not there yet? The future might not come, so live as you do now and enjoy it. If you look too far to the future, you lose sight of what’s around you.”
Plo couldn’t help but smile under his mask. “Perhaps,” he agreed before the sharp sound of phone alarms going off rang out in the night. Kit made a face, shaking his head as grumbles and groans came from Plo’s children, most still half asleep in the grass.
He glanced back at them, seeing Wolffe shake the sleep from his head before lightly punching Boost and Sinker so they woke up.
Kit whistled to get his attention again and Plo turned back around as the green-skinned Mer pointed upwards. He tilted his head back, smiling again under his mask as Ahsoka let out a whoop behind him. The first of many silver streaks crossed the sky, bright and beautiful and Plo reached over to the lantern, clicking it off without a word.
“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” Kit mused, “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one at the surface. I was down near Muunilinst last time, all the way across the ocean. It’s rather bleak there, so I’m glad I’m down over here for this one.”
Plo hummed, watching the sky still as he nodded. “It is rather beautiful. I missed the last one. Feral had been extremely ill and the Nightbrothers were staying with us until he got better.”
There was silence for a moment before another splash sounded and Plo let out a slightly disgruntled noise as he was splashed, Kit hauling himself onto the dock.
He turned to gaze at the Mer, raising a brow, and Kit just grinned before leaning forwards. A single, clawed finger hooked on the edge of his mask, pulling it down and before Plo could say anything, Kit closed the distance between them.
It wasn’t a deep kiss, not like the first time Kit had kissed him out of nowhere, but it also wasn’t playful like the quick and teasing pecks the Mer had peppered across his face while he had been slightly tipsy at Aayla’s bar.
It was nice, either way though, as Kit pulled back. “Cute.”
Plo reached up, touching his cheeks before huffing a bit and pulling his mask back up to hide his flush.
“Hush, you,” he huffed again, smacking the Mer on the arm as he laughed. That just made Kit laugh harder, tresses curling and moving in that happy way they did when he was delighted.
Plo rolled his eyes, turning his head back up to the sky as more and more meteors crossed the wide expanse. Behind him, he could hear his children talking, words of awe and wonder drifting down to the docks.
“It really is beautiful,” he murmured as Kit rested his chin on his shoulder, tresses curling and draping across the other one.
“Just like you,” the Mer teased, an equally teasing croon leaving him, and Plo bit back a laugh. The compliment was sincere, but nonetheless.
“I will push you off this dock, Kit.”
And Kit just laughed, wrapping his arms around him as the stars continued on their paths over head.
Dorin is the name that belongs to Plo's farmhouse, Data and Cable show up briefly in some of my other work and Nex and Nox showed up in the previous WPACA installment. Ghost shows up like all the time in my works hagjkfjghd. Anyways, was this the cursed one? That's for you to decide. Happy May the 4th!
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What Was Written Only To Be Undone
Fandom(s): Star Wars: The Clone Wars (03), Star Wars (Prequel Trilogy)
Summery: Voolvif Monn survived Order 66 when few others did. He didn’t expect to go to sleep in a far off planet only to wake again in the Temple.
Happy May 4th!
This is one of three fics I plan on getting out sometime today ( or like at like 2 am may 5th but yk time is weird ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ) so yeah. Happy Star Wars Day and one of them is very cursed.
He had been in the Outer Rim, alone, when it hit. Order 66 that was.
Voolvif Monn knew that his solitary nature was the real reason why he had survived— there were no Clones to turn on him, and he was certain that they would have if any survived from the massacre that was the 146th near the beginning of the war.
And as the Empire rose, Voolvif remained one step ahead of it.
For years he moved through the Galaxy. Never keeping the same ship longer than he needed, never staying longer than he needed. Always one step ahead.
Ahead of Vader, ahead of the Inquisitors, ahead of the Purge, Dark, and Storm Troopers.
Eight years of running, of taking out Troopers if possible. He didn’t kill any of the Inquisitors, couldn't kill any of them— they attacked in packs with Troopers and at that point, it was more important to heed Master Kenobi’s words and get away in order to live and fight. He just wasn't strong enough anymore.
The Inquisitors were strong, they were former Jedi, after all. And he might have been a Master once, but he was being run ragged, exhausted and running, but still, but still...
But still, he escaped them— at the cost of his eye and most of his hearing once. And still, he had survived. He had fallen back on his more animalistic side, slipped in and out of Bounty Hunter Dens, and making sure to sleep in a safe yet secluded spot when he could risk rest— be it an abandoned warehouse or even among the highest branches and cliff-sides of trees and mountains.
He hadn’t expected to wake to sunlight on his face and a hard but comfortable floor under him.
He was almost instantly on high alert, rolling to his feet before he startled upon realizing that both his eyes were working.
Hesitantly (and he was always hesitant nowadays) he reached up and placed a hand over his eye, feeling for a scar— only there was none.
A pounding at his door made his ears shoot up and he called his lightsaber to his hand without a second thought. He moved from his sleeping quarters and to his door.
He opened it and almost cried upon seeing the familiar faces of his agemates, even though they hadn’t been close friends of his.
The faces of Lissarkh, who had been shot in the chest by her own men.
Of Agen Kolar who had been felled at the hands of the Sith.
Of Bultar Swan who had been killed by a fellow Jedi.
Of Sha Koon who was killed by Vader—
“Slept in late, Monn?” Agen drawled, though there was no heat to his words. Amused. And Voolvif’s mind flew backward through memories.
In the past, he would’ve taken that as an insult, his ears would’ve pinned back and teeth barely restrained from being bared in a growl. In the past, he hadn’t known what to do with these Jedi who insisted on socializing with him after they were all Knighted— Sha had been the last to be Knighted of them, him first, on the field right before his Master was killed, then Agen and Bultar. Lissarkh would follow plus one more he couldn’t quite remember, and then Sha.
Still, he wanted to cry at the familiar faces, to reach out and grasp onto them and never let go because this couldn’t be real— either he was dead as well, or this was some torturous trick from the sith.
And he wasn’t sure which one he wanted more.
Bultar reached out, pausing for a moment, allowing him the time to pull away— he had been so touch-adverse back then, he remembered— but he didn’t and she placed a hand on his arm.
“We were going to go and congratulate Aalya on getting Knighted,” she told him and he forced down another swell of emotions. “You want to come with? We were going to go down to Dex’s too.”
Aayla, who was always kind to him when he had snapped at her, when he had bared his teeth at her kindness, and pulled away from her hands when she tried to treat his injuries from Geonosis. Aayla, who was kind and had been shot over and over and over by those men who she had loved and cared for.
They were expecting an answer from him.
“Yeah,” he rasped, hooking his lightsaber onto his belt. “Yeah, that’d— that’d be nice.”
And if this was a dream, if this was his afterlife, if this was some hellish trick of the Sith… He didn’t know.
But for now, he was back, back before it all fell to hell— before the Clones, before the Fall, before the endless nights and days of being on the run, of being hunted down.
And he wanted to bask in this warmth, with these people who he had become friends with a bit too late in his life.
A gentle whisper made him turn and look over his shoulder as he followed the rest of his agemates down the hall— a slight tug on his mind and for a second he thought he saw something, heard something.
If this was a dream, he wanted to sleep a bit more.
If this was a sith trick, he wanted to be at their mercy for a bit longer.
If this was his death and afterlife, he would gladly accept it.
But on the off chance— the off chance that he was here, back in the Temple, back in time to change something…
He would gladly do it.
But for now, he wanted to rest.
So Voolvif Monn turned upon hearing Sha call for him, and followed his agemates down the hall.
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Shaak Ti knew how to start the night off, Saesee knew how to finish it. Cin knew what he was getting into. He wouldn’t trade it for the world.
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Thinkin’ about Houseki no Kuni and Star Wars and rewrote some panels to fit :’)
Every character is subject to change ofc, these are just ideas and I’m not wholly satisfied with them aside from Cin as Bortz, Plo as Yellow, Mace as Jade, and Anakin as Phos. The OG Morga and Goshe were Agen and Eeth, but Motwo and Gotwo are Feral and Savage because Zabraks I guess
“Kit really admires you,” Shaak mused and Plo scoffed softly, catching the scalpel and began applying the glue in order to piece the green colored gem back together.
“I’m the one whose let everyone around me die. Master Tyvokka, Micah, Lilit, Qui-Gon... there’s nothing admirable about me. All I have are the quick reflexes that let me get away faster than anyone else. And yet here I am, the eldest of all of us. I’ll be three hundred and ninety-three this year.”
He pauses, gazing down at the green agate of the younger gem, the closed eyes and the tresses that spilt down the sides of the table.
“I can’t even remember… why I’m fighting anymore.”
It was heartbreaking but a very real realization that came upon them. Cin was shattered, broken to pieces by their own sibling and the both of them laying in pieces in the fields.
And now Sha was before them. She had changed, they all knew this side of her, but she had since locked it away— but now? She was freely using it. Behind her was Aayla.
Bultar and Serra didn't even have time to move before Sha's blade pierced them both through the middle, lifting them off their feet and then she swung. The two were shattered in half, and Bultar's knee slammed into Bene's face, shattering her as well.
"Sha! Stop!" Obi-Wan's cry fell on deaf ears, and four others struck. Brave, brave souls— Lissarkh, Feral, Kit, and Adi.
Sha, though, she made such quick work of them and Obi-Wan knew that Shaak Ti would not move from her spot by Saesee's body. Both Scout and Whie didn't even have time to move, both begging the elder gem to stop only to get severed in half as well as Aayla grabbed onto the chain that was attached to the collar around Sha's neck.
And then it was just him and Voolvif. Voolvif with his blade ready, eyes unreadable and—
"I never..." Aayla was gazing at Voolvif. "Told you this but! I never liked how I never knew what you were thinking! It's like you were looking down on me!"
Sha was still relentless, destroying a pillar for no real reason.
"But!" Aayla tugged, feet planted as cracks began to appear on Sha's neck. "You need to get out of here!"
And with another sharp tug, she broke through the other's neck, but still, it was for naught. Sha's sword was still in mid swing, and Voolvif as bisected from the shoulders up. Her head flew back, slamming into Aayla, and Obi-wan watched as Aayla's shattered as well.
And then it was only Obi-Wan.
Anakin— no, Obi-Wan supposed he would be Vader now— gazed down at him. He could feel the burning gaze on him as he bowed, hands braced on the stone, head bowed.
"Please make the arrangements, I'm certain if you take me to [the Sith] we can come to an agreement. No one but you can do it."
There was silence. "You need me?"
Vader's voice was rough, low, and Obi-Wan lifted his head.
Vader gazed down at him for a moment. two. three.
Then, the last sensation Obi-Wan felt was the feeling of Vader's blade cleaving his neck from his shoulders— no, that wasn't quite it.
The last thing he felt before darkness took over was the feeling of his head breaking apart as he hit the ground.
"I dont need," Vader hissed. "Anyone at all."
Perhaps it was only fair, karma, for how he had been. Mace realized this easily, as Vader held him by the throat up against a pillar. His body had been shattered, violet shards of sapphire decorating the hall.
"I'm sorry that..." he murmured, gazing down at the once bright child. "I was never able to understand you."
Vader's grip on his neck tightened before a crack split across Mace's face and he felt his neck break from the rest of his body before Vader let him go.
"Huh?" he heard Vader mutter as darkness consumed him. "What are you even talking about?"
idk if you have questions for whatever this is just ask
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The Small Moments When We Find Peace
Fandom(s): Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Star Wars (Prequel Trilogy)
Summery: Sometimes a calm day is hard to find, but when it’s offered, they make the best of it.
Pairing(s): Shaak Ti/Cin Drallig/Saesee Tiin (implied)
Saesee was originally supposed to actually be in this but I couldn't figure out where. Maybe next time.
Also yeah. I know Bene's only Cin's student through saber-instruction but like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ we don't know who her master was and she only has shown up in that 5 second moment where she dies in the movie and nowhere else. Until her official story is confirmed, I'm going with this.
"Your hair is graying.”
“It’s been graying since before the war even started.”
Shaak just laughed lightly as she brushed Cin’s hair out. Saesee was finishing with a mission report to the Council, Shaak was in-between missions, and Cin was all but Temple-bound since he ascended to his position of Head of Security. As the Battlemaster he had most clearance to leave the Temple, but that had, of course, become null when he had taken up the Mantle of Head of Security and the Temple Guard roughly thirty years back.
Cin rolled his shoulder, grunting a bit at the slight pull. A scar that never fully healed from when the Yinchorri infiltrated the Temple. Shaak’s hands left his hair, a hand gently resting over the spot and she slowly eased the tension from his muscles.
“The Guard is pulling more shifts now. The Senate wants some of our Sentinels to protect the Senate Building, which means the Guard and myself when I can. None of the others would be able to do the job. I can’t see Quinlan Vos possibly standing Guard for hours on end, can you?”
She just laughed again. “No, I suppose not.”
He hummed a bit as she began to brush his hair again and silence settled over the two of them for a while.
It was nice, simply sitting in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. There were no classes he had to teach— the other instructors insisted on giving him the day off— and Serra had taken Bene out for a small mission down in some of the lower levels of Coruscant. That left him with time to relax, and with both Shaak and Saesee back at the temple after their respective missions, he couldn't help but wonder if this was orchestrated. But even if it was, who was he to really look a gift horse in the mouth?
Cin huffed a bit as Shaak lightly tugged his hair and he tilted his head back a bit. “Yes?”
“How is Bene doing?”
A hum left him as he thought, tilting his head back down as a couple of Knights walked past, talking softly. A few padawans and younglings (supervised, of course) passed by, waving to them as well.
“She’s doing well. In both Master Sinube and Master Kcaj’s classes she’s been getting good marks,” He told the Togruta, and he couldn’t keep the pride from his tone. “She’s a good child.”
Shaak laughed softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “Such a doting parent.”
“That is what is Masters tend to be, or are supposed to be at least.”
She just laughed again, going back to messing with his hair— braiding it, quite possibly. He didn’t mind. It’s not like he could do it himself all that well (and honestly, he wasn’t all that good when it came to braiding Bene’s hair either) and he didn’t have anywhere to be.
The two of them settled back into silence, Cin tilting his head back a bit to follow Shaak’s hands and closing his eyes. For a little bit, he could pretend that all was peaceful, that in a few hours, both Shaak and Saesee wouldn’t be out on the front again, that he wouldn’t be training children in preparation to defend their lives tomorrow.
It was hard to find peace in the middle of a war, but he would make the most of what he could find.
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What Once Was, Now Moving Forwards
Fandom(s): Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Star Wars: The Expanded Universe, The Mandalorian
Rating: T (Swearing, Canon-Typical Violence, Moff Gideon (derogatory))
Summary: Bo-Katan was right when she told The Mandalorian that there was a Jedi on Corvus… she just got the name entirely wrong, and thus forgot to mention that this Jedi happened to have a pack of wolves that followed after him.
Notes: Alternative Universe, Heavily AU and Headcanon Heavy, Some Major Figures Survived Order 66! AU
Nav: 8/? || <Prev | Next > || Start || AO3
Chapter 8: The Cantina and the Mandalorians
Sorry for the sudden halt in chapters. I ran into a massive wall of writer's block and it's still not 100% cleared up enough to write plot-heavy works. I have a few oneshots and AUs on here that can be read in the meantime
The moment the five of them— Wolffe, Boba Fett, Din, Plo, and him— stepped into the Cantina they had caught the attention of a good majority of the occupants. Two Mandalorians, a Clone donning a helmet that was modeled in the Mandalorian style in order to blend in, and two non-humans. That was already suspicious.
But Din had his eyes set on the two others, unmasked, sitting at a table. With a few side looks, the five of them had broken apart. He and Plo to the bar, Kit ordering a shot of Anselm Whiskey as a courtesy, while Wolffe fell in step with Din and Boba.
Kit didn't like the redhead's tone as she and Din talked, he decided as he downed the burning liquid. Condescending and haughty.
He chose to inspect the tumbler instead, as he and Plo kept an ear out for any sign that the negotiations would turn hostile.
And as expected, they had.
"Hey, we don't need these two," Wolffe grunted and from the corner of his eye, he noticed the redheaded woman— who Din had told them was named Bo-Katan— stiffen.
"You are not a Mandalorian."
"He never said he was," Boba sneered before turning to Din. "The al'verde is right. Let's get out of here. We have enough firepower already."
"I didn't know sidekicks were allowed to talk," Bo-Katan's lackey said suddenly and Boba chuckled as a deep growl came from Wolffe. A signature reason why he had been named as such, Kit had learned.
"Well, if that isn't the Quacta calling the Stifling slimy," The green-clad bounty hunter commented as he slowly stepped towards her. "Easy there, little one."
The dark-haired woman stood to meet him, eyes narrowed. "You'll be talking through the window of a bacta tank."
"I'd like to see you try and make that happen," Wolffe growled but Bo-Katan put a hand up.
"All right, easy. Save it for the Imps."
Kit scoffed softly, tresses flicking as Plo seemed to roll his eyes from behind his goggles. As if a scuffle here would burn out Wolffe's desire to destroy the remnants of the empire that destroyed his home and family.
He ordered another shot.
"—The Moff has a light cruiser. It could be helpful in your effort to regain Mandalore," Din was saying when Kit tuned back in from downing it.
By now, neither he nor Plo were trying to be discreet, both turned to watch their trio— Kit wondered when Boba and Din started to become 'their' boys anyways— and the two other Mandalorians. Boba turned to Din.
"You gotta be kidding me," he uttered, "Mandalore? The Empire turned that planet to glass."
"You're a disgrace to your armor," Bo-Katan hissed and instantly, Kit knew that Boba was bristling. Wolffe's own 'hackles' were raised, most likely he was bearing his teeth under the modified helmet he donned.
"This armor belonged to my father," Boba snapped and the redhead sneered.
"Don't you mean your donor?"
"Careful, doll," Wolffe growled stepping forwards and Kit nudged Plo, glancing at him with a raised brow. Plo's tusks just flexed in amusement.
Even if he hated Boba because of what happened to Ponds all those years ago, Wolffe was still Wolffe through and through. Once someone was under his wing— so long as they weren't a certain golden protocol droid— they were under his protection.
"You are both clones," Bo-Katan stated as she and her lackey stood. Din stayed where he was, but Wolffe and Boba took the challenge, moving to meet them. "I've heard your voices thousands of times."
"Might be the last ones you'll hear," Wolffe taunted before he moved out of the way of the lackey's swing. Boba easily sidestepped as well. A silent agreement went between the two of them before Boba ducked back and Wolffe grabbed the Mandalorian by her collar and threw her into a table.
She easily rolled back to her feet, launching at the former Commander. He grabbed her, staggering back a bit with a snarl before he tossed her off of him again.
Wolffe was one of the strongest of the vode, Kit knew, able to match some of the ARCs in the latter half of the war— hell, he had tossed Fives and Echo around like it was nothing before clashing with Rex head-on.
And Boba seemed more than inclined to sit back and watch as the other Mandalorian activated her flame thrower. Wolffe slammed his foot down, throwing up a table to block the stream of fire before Plo moved.
"Enough," he rumbled, standing and walking over. Kit set down some credits before following as Bo-Katan and her lackey's heads turned. Something flashed in the redhead's eyes.
"You're a long way from your planet, Kel Dor," she said, tone laced with something that Kit didn't quite like, teeth bearing. Plo simply inclined his head.
"So I've heard over the years," he said simply as Wolffe moved to his side. Bo-Katan gazed between the two of them and Din for a moment before relenting and turning back to Din.
"We will help you," she told him, "In exchange, we will keep that ship to retake Mandalore. If you should manage to finish your quest, I would have you reconsider joining our efforts. Mandalorians have been in exile from our homeworld for far too long."
Din considered this. "You can keep the ship," he told her after a moment. "We will see about Mandalore."
"One more thing," She continued, as if Din hadn't spoken. "Gideon has a weapon that once belonged to me. It is an ancient weapon that can cut through anything."
Her lackey glanced over. "Almost anything," she corrected and Bo-Katan nodded.
"It cannot cut through pure beskar," she confirmed. "I will kill the Moff and retake what is rightfully mine. With the Darksaber restored to me, Mandalore will finally be within reach."
The Darksaber, huh?
Well, there was another thing that it couldn't cut through.
"Beskar is one thing," Plo spoke up and eyes turned to the two of them again. Apparently, he had thought the same thing that Kit had. "But there is another thing that the Darksaber cannot cut through."
Bo-Katan's Lackey scoffed. "Certainly, but those are long gone. Relics of the Republic," she said and Kit glanced to Plo, whose tusks flexed in amusement again as he reached into his cloak and pulled out his lightsaber.
"I'd like to think I hung onto mine," he said simply and both Bo-Katan and her Lackey recoiled.
"You are a Jedi?" Bo-Katan hissed but Plo simply inclined his head.
"I had thought all the Clones," she cast a look at Wolffe and Boba, "Killed the Jedi."
Wolffe growled lowly, but Kit held a hand out in front of the former Commander, stopping him from advancing on the Mandalorian woman. He saw her eyes flicker to his own on his belt before back to Plo.
"Some did, yes," Plo said simply, "I happened to be lucky."
Doctor Pershing, the Doctor that The Slave I crew— Boba Fett, Fennec Shand, Cara Dune, and, of course, Din— had abducted while the crew of the Hunt and Jag in Kit's old Delta-7B had done a routine sweep to make sure there were no other Imperials were around Tython, had given them all some vital information. And for that, Plo supposed that he could hold the vode back for a bit. Wolffe had wanted to rip the man's head off of his shoulders the moment that he heard that the Doctor was a Clone Engineer. He didn't blame him, but that was something to deal with after they got Grogu back.
It turns out that those Dark Troopers were— in fact— called as such, and they were being held in cold storage in a cargo bay while Grogu was being held on the Brig with an armed guard. And they were... the perfected form of the Phase Zero type, something Plo and the boys had been forced to fight when they were still in use.
"We split into two parties," Bo-Katan decided as they stood aboard The Slave I. Of the Pack, only the original Three were with the rest of them, all crowded into one room while Boba Fett remained up in the cockpit. He, Warthog, Comet, and Wildfire aboard The Hunt and Jag on the Delta-7B (and both were still making wide rounds around the planet to avoid landing) were all listening in via Comms as they planned.
Din shifted, glancing to Bo-Katan. "I go alone." There was silence, but she nodded after a moment. "Fine," she agreed before continuing. "Phase one, Lambda Shuttle issues a distress call. Two, we emergency land at the mouth of the fighter launch tube, cutting off any potential interceptors."
She indicated to the said launch tube on the holo map of the Cruiser. "Koska, Fennec, Dune, the Clones, the Jedi, and myself disembark with maximum initiative. Once we've neutralized the launch bay, we make our way through these tandem decks in a penetration maneuver."
"Who the hell made you boss?"
Din and Wolffe glanced to each other after a moment of silence, the two having spoken up at the same time. Plo shook his head, though his tusks flexed in amusement.
"Ugh… yes, buir…"
Bo-Katan barely hid her disgust, he noticed, but he didn't have time to call her out on it. She cleared her throat.
"We'll be misdirection," she told him. "Once we draw a crowd, you slip through the shadows, get the kid."
Cara shifted. "Those dark troopers," she started. "Those are gonna be a real skank in the scud pie."
Plo glanced to the doctor, who shrunk back as Kit's tresses flicked, also looking at the human man.
"Their bay is on the way to the brig," he asked. "Is it possible to make it there before they deploy?"
There was a pause but Pershing nodded s bit. "It's possible…"
Fennec moved over to Din as Kit turned to Plo.
"You or me?" he asked lowly and he hummed in return to the other's question.
"Would you like to see battle or slink through the halls?" he asked back and Kit snorted.
"Fine, fine," he chuckled before he spoke up. "If Djarin's going to be taking care of the Dark Troopers, we're going to have to alter the plan."
"What do you mean?" Fennec asked. "The code cylinder should do it, right?"
Kit shrugged. "Sure, provided that none of them get out first."
"Then what do you propose, Jedi?" Koska asked, raising a brow. Kit just bared his teeth at her and Plo sighed.
"Kit and I will split up, one of us with Djarin, the other with you. Certainly, a party of nine will be enough to cause trouble while two of us sneak away?" he asked, tone neutral and even, yet holding a challenge. Sinker snorted, Boost nudging him.
Bo-Katan's lips were pursed but she nodded. "Very well, which one—"
"Plo will. I'm not missing a chance to see combat," Kit said, cutting in easily, much to Bo-Katan's apparent ire.
"Are you sure?" Din asked, looking over to him. "You were almost killed by one earlier."
Plo inclined his head, "That might be so, but unlike last time, I will not be focused on protecting someone from being captured, nor am I bracing myself for feeling Wildfire's life get snuffed out because the was thrown from the top of the ridge."
Din was silent for a moment but nodded. "Right… then, we'll meet at the bridge."
Just like it had been aboard The Slave I, there was a clear tension aboard the Lambda-Class shuttle was very prominent.
Though this time, it wasn't between his sons and Bo-Katan, but between Cara and the Mandalorian princess.
Kit had, for the most part, decided to ignore them.
"Prepare to exit jump space," came Warthog's voice as the comms crackled to life.
"Copy that," Bo-Katan answered, flipping a few switches. "Get the hell out of there as soon as they clear us to dock. And your shots have to look convincing, you lot."
"Power up those shields, princess," Boba drawled. "We know how to put on a good show."
"Watch out for those deck cannons."
"You're positive you want those intact?" came Jag's voice from the Delta-7B. "Taking them out would be easy."
"Do that and you'll be the next to get shot down, Clone," came the snapped response, and Wolffe growled in warning.
"Don't worry about us," Comet cut in, "Just be careful in there.
"Exiting hyperspace in three, two, one…"
And with a jolt, all four ships dropped out of Hyperspace. Almost instantly, The Slave I and The Hunt's red bolts flew past the Lambda shuttle, followed closely by the Delta-7B's blue. Bo-Katan veered to the side as Jag shot past them before circling back around. He was careful to miss each shot, but still, part of Plo's heart seized and his throat closed up.
Because suddenly he was back in his own ship, feeling the tension that the Force had coiled into snap violently before his Com went off. Before Wolffe had shouted "dodge!" and Jag had been forced into firing on him— before Warthog and Cable and Tracer had open-fired.
The feeling of flames licking his skin and the impact of the crash, the broken bone, and the taste of smoke and blood as he forced his way from the wreckage. The sharp pains and tears as lives were torn from the galaxy one after another and—
He jerked as Kit gently squeezed his hand.
"Breathe, Plo," he murmured and he felt his shoulders ease just a bit as he felt the Nautolan's presence against his own mind, like a warm tide wrapping around him. He let out a breath, pushing the memories away as his other hand dug into the material of Bo-Katan's seat.
"—Deploying fighter squadron," he heard a female voice say over the Comms. Bo-Katan and Koska glanced at one another as they approached Moff Gideon's ship.
The first of the TIE Fighters were launched and Plo saw Jag veer off to the side, blasting one of them as he flew past. The red Delta-7B continued on, turning and circling back around as The Slave I and The Hunt continued their faux attack.
"Request denied!" Cried the Comms Officer, "Please clear launch tube until fighters deploy!"
"Negative! Negative!" Bo-Katan responded back, brows furrowed in concentration. "We are under attack!"
Plo tensed as green blaster bolts were fired from the remaining TIE fighter, just barely missing The Salve I as The Hunt pulled up and out of the way.
"Hold onto something," Kit called back to Din, Cara, and the original Pack as Bo-Katan brought them in closer to the Launch Tube of the ship. Fennec echoing his warning and Plo jerked a bit, vision swimming when the side of the shuttle hit the side of the launch tube. Kit squeezed his shoulder again, keeping him grounded as the Nautolan grit his teeth against the rough landing and sliding down the Launch Tube.
They lurched a bit as they finally jerked to a halt and Plo slowly loosened his grip from the seat, heart thudding in his chest as Kit threw his hood up over his head.
Bo-Katan lowered the ramp and the Nautolan squeezed his shoulder once more before moving to it. Smoke curled around and into the ship as Storm Troopers approached. Wolffe and Sinker flanked Kit as he moved to the ramp, Boost on Sinker's other side.
"Clear the launch tube!"
"What are you doing? Get that thing out of here!"
Plo looked over to Din and nodded as Bo-Katan and Koska joined Fennec and Cara behind Kit and the Pack.
Before the Troopers could get any closer, Wolffe and Fennec both fired on the two Troopers approaching.
"Move in!" another yelled. "Blast 'em!"
"May the Force be with you, and let the hunt begin!" Kit called over his shoulder to them before he shot out from the ship, his lightsabers igniting with a snap.
From what Plo could see, as soon as Kit made himself known, the landing bay erupted into absolute chaos. Because whatever they were expecting, it hadn't been a hooded Jedi. Boost and Sinker shot out after, with Wolffe of course, all three falling into sync easily with Kit, even as Bo-Katan and Koska flew out, blasters all lighting up and Kohska wasted no time with her Jetpack, drop kicking one in the face and back into Kit's lightsabers.
The sound of blaster fire along with the sound of Kit's lightsabers echoed in the landing hanger for a while before the group sent as a distraction continued on.
Plo and Din waited a moment more before Din moved first, slowly moving from the ship. Plo followed, hood up and footsteps light.
Aside from corpses, the area was clear. Din glanced back and Plo nodded to him quietly before they continued on.
In the distance, he could faintly hear blaster fire before it got too far for them to hear. Despite that, he could feel not just Kit's but Wolffe, Sinker, and Boost's blinds with him pulsing with the thrill of a fight, Kit's blood was most likely— in the Nautolan's own words— singing by now. He always did like a good fight.
Nonetheless, Plo kept his hands on his sabers as he and Din moved throughout the ship, ducking to the side to avoid the few Troopers still around.
The Force was twisting, and he could feel Grogu aboard the Ship, faintly, and there was definitely the pull of the Dark Saber— but it wasn't near where Kit was. Concerning... But there was time to ponder it later, as he and Din rounded the corner to where the Dark Troopers were being stored— only to see the doors opening as smoke spilled out from the cold storage chamber and across the floor.
"No. No!" Din cursed, surging forward and Plo ignited his Lightsaber as the Mandalorian thrust the Code Cylinder into the control panel's port. The doors began to close and Din moved to fire into the chamber, though the blaster bolts simply ricocheted off of the Dark Troopers' armor.
There was a crunch as one of the Dark Trooper's grabbed the edges of the closing door, prying it open and Plo threw his hand out, grabbing Din with the Force and yanking him back as the Dark Trooper threw a punch towards the Mandalorian.
Din stumbled when Plo let him go, leveling his blaster at the Dark Trooper as it forced its way out, the doors slamming shut behind it but the others were still in there and still advancing.
Plo slid between Din and the Dark Trooper, throwing his hand out again and sending the mechanical monster down the hall.
"Take care of the others," he told Din before he rounded on the Dark Trooper as it got back up. Plo moved forwards, Lightsaber flashing as he cut through one of its arms as it raised it to shoot at him. With another slash, it had been cut in half, the parts crashing to the floor.
He gazed down at the remains for a moment as he sheathed his Lightsaber. Certainly, one on one there was little trouble when dealing with them. And, if there had been more than one escaping, Din could protect himself. Grogu couldn't have back then, and he hadn't risked going all out then. A mistake, he knew now. Sighing, Plo turned back to Din, walking back over to him in a few quick strides.
"Let us hurry," he told the Mandalorian, who nodded and took the lead. The two were quick and silent as they moved through the halls again, the stillness of the Cruiser more than eerie.
It didn't take them long to get to where Grogu was being held, Din easily took care of one Storm Trooper guarding the door while Plo sent the other one flying with the Force. He kept his hood up as Din opened the holding cell with the Code Cylinder.
Just then, Plo's Com beeped.
"Plo, Gideon isn't up in the bridge," Kit's voice said through and Plo turned, gazing through the doors as they opened.
"Indeed," he told the Nautolan calmly, thumbing the ignition button on his lightsaber upon seeing the black-colored blade over Grogu. It was just as he thought. "No need to worry. We've found him."
I skipped Morak because even if they had been there, none of the Tython Crew could’ve really been a part of the whole ordeal since the Pack are all clones and therefore would be recognized, and Plo and Kit wouldn’t even be able to sneak in. I also skipped the capture of Dr. Pershing.
If you haven't seen quickguig’s Mandalorian Wolffe art, you need to. It's beautiful/
I fully believe that Wolffe could throw around some of the non-commander class arcs. Everyone talks about how Cody kicks droids, but I have zero doubts the 'Pack just went at sepps with their bare hands at times too.
Yes I know, the Darksaber is apparently canonically stronger than a lightsaber now. I’m choosing to ignore that.
I very much do not like how this chapter is written. I hit a wall of writer's block when working on this.
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just another wip
“ARC Commanders,” High General Windu greeted, “Master Plo Koon, we welcome you back to Coruscant.”
“Sir,” Commander Fordo saluted before he reached up, taking his helmet off. The Alpha ARC was just as Cody remembered him from when he was a cadet, though his hair was longer, but that mohawk was still there. He had more scars than before and Cody knew he wasn’t the only one whose eyes widened when the ARC in blue next to Fordo removed their helmet next.
He hadn’t known there was a woman— A sister— in their ranks. She had a few scars across her face, and the litheness of her form made sense now. General Ti smiled gently at the ARC.
“It’s good to be back home, Master Windu,” General Koon was saying as the other ARCs took their helmets off. “The vode have been anxious to see their siblings.”
“Aw, shit, Master Plo,” one of the ARCs grumbled, his hair a blonde color (natural or dyed, Cody couldn’t be sure, but it was most likely the later) and messy “No need to rat us all out.”
“Yeah, Plo-Buir, we have a rep to uphold!” one of the gray ARCs cried and the Kel Dor let out a rumbling laugh. Cody was reeling at the blatant use of the Jedi’s first name and buir thrown in. Fordo just rolled his eyes.
“Striker, Sinker, don’t be rude,” he barked, “General Plo took out over half the droid forces just to get us back here faster.”
“Sorry Plo-Buir.” came the two voices and Fordo just rolled his eyes again. Koon placed a hand on Fordo’s puldron and Cody had to do a double take back at the trio of Gray ARCs and — yes, those were Wolffe, Boost, and Sinker. Boost and one of the blues were both picking on Sinker, the larger ARC holding him in a headlock while Boost messed up his hair. Wolffe had the softest kriffing look that he had ever had in a long while on his face as he watched before snapping back to attention as General Ti cleared her throat.
“I’m certain that all of them are ready for a rest,” she mused, “As are you my friend. Traveling with thirteen Commander-class ARCs must have been quite the story.”
Plo chuckled but Wolffe butt in before he could start. “All due respect, General, but General Buir is the one who caused the most trouble.”
“Tell the nice Togruta how you don’t kriffin’ eat until we’re all done, General,” Fordo added and Cody tried not to feel a pang of jealousy that Wolffe had found someone outside of their batch he could rely on like he once had with him, Fox, Ponds, and Bly.
General Windu raised a brow and General Koon let out a sigh. “Still not out of that habit, I see.”
“My friend, if I have told you once, I have told you many times over—”
“Kel Dor wait for children to be fed first, yes I’m aware,” the Kuron Jedi drawled. “And are you still refusing to sit in chairs? That’s not a Kel Dor thing.”
The said Kel Dor let out another sigh as both Wolffe and Fordo grabbed ahold of his shoulders and shoved him at General Fisto— much to Cody’s confusion.
“General Fisto, make sure he Kriffin’ eats between the two of you’s tango in the—”
“FRODO!” The ARC grunted, staggering a bit as the female clone kicked his knees out from under him. “Don’t be rude!”
“Wise you brat!”
Cody chanced a glance at the two Jedi, both flush with embarrassment as Windu trembled, a hand over his mouth and— Shaak Ti wasn’t even trying to hide her laughter.
this was for that one concept idea where the M10 was assigned to Plo after the Malevolence? Idk i never did much else for it.
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In the Eye of the Beholder
Fandom(s): Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Star Wars (Prequel Trilogy)
Summery: A tender morning between a Diner owner and a Jedi.
Pairing(s): Dexter Jettster/Plo Koon
I... I don't know where this came from ngl
Beauty, many people often said, was in the eye of the beholder. And perhaps that was true, given the bantashit that the mainstream media would often show about sentients who drifted farther and farther from the “human” standard.
Whoever decided that humans were supposed to be the Galaxy’s beauty standard, Dex decided, needed to get a good whack to the head.
Dex had four arms, a large frame, and was nowhere near slim, he ran a diner in Coco Town and had a rather seedy past. He was hardly the picture-perfect model for the asinine beauty standards of the Galaxy— but that wasn’t something he really had cared about. Beauty standards were stupid, and he didn’t really care about how he was perceived, but part of him desperately wished that the rest of the Galaxy could see how stunning his partner was as he redressed himself from their rather energetic soiree between the sheets the previous night.
Dex reached out, large fingers ghosting over the other's nape, trailing down the fern-like scarring that wrapped around his spine. A slight feeling of contentment curled in his chest as he saw the other shiver just a bit under his touch. There was definitely something beautiful about Plo Koon in the early morning light.
“Must you head off so early every time?” he asked as he pushed himself up into a seated position and the Kel Dor hummed— a rather deep and gut-fluttering noise, like a rumbling purr.
“Unfortunately, as wonderful as it would be to laze around in the morning, I must go,” he murmured, straightening his back as he finished tugging his boots on. Dex hummed.
“You Jedi and your work,” he teased lightly, leaning over and pressing a kiss to the nape of his partner’s neck. A soft trill escaped him as Dex gently ran his teeth against his skin. He wrapped an arm around his waist, a hand against his chest while the other two trailed down his arms. His hands easily could span across the other’s chest, and it was almost comical how different the two of them were in size.
Taloned hands lightly smacked his own away.
“Dexti,” the other murmured, “I have to go, I’m set to deploy in a few hours.”
Despite his tone, he still tilted his head slightly to give the Besalisk better access to his neck, something Dex gladly took advantage of.
“'Lo, you know that a few hours means you have some time to slow down,” he mused against his skin. “The boys are always more than prepared, even in your absence.”
Despite his reluctance, Plo leaned back into Dex’s touch, a soft sigh of contentment escaping the older male. The war was rough on everyone, Dex knew— well, for everyone who was actively in the thick of it, that was. But for the Jedi, especially. It was slowly wearing down on them, on everything they were.
Plo Koon wasn’t the only Jedi exhausted by the War, but he certainly had a lot of weight atop his shoulders.
He had heard enough of Knight Skywalker’s complaints about the Council and the gripes of citizens to paint a picture that the Jedi with the higher ranks has to create. While Skywalker complained about how arrogant the Council was, Plo lamented about how stretched thin the Order was. While Citizens griped about how cold and unreachable the Jedi were, Plo grieved quietly every night for every life that had slipped through his hands— and for the ones he felt across the Galaxy. About the ages the Padawans were being knighted, and how younglings were being sent as padawans. They were getting younger every few months, Plo had murmured in the dead of night, tucked protectively against Dex’s chest.
( They didn’t talk about Little Ahsoka anymore— she was gone, and Dex hadn’t agreed with the position that the Council had put Plo in. Too emotionally attached to make a difference, he had managed to tell him. Dex wasn’t Force-sensitive, but even he could feel the grief that weighed on his partner.)
But there was little Dex could do aside from being there for him. He continued his work, he held Plo close when he needed it— among other things— he gave free meals to the Clones that managed to make their way down to Coco Town, and, like many others, he could only hope the War would end soon.
“Where are you being sent now?” he murmured as he pressed another kiss against his neck.
“Cato Neimoidia. Mace and the others believe that the end of the war is upon us, so the Order is going to be widespread in the Galaxy in this upcoming months,” Plo murmured back, "Obi-Wan is going to be going after Grievous, but I think Anakin will be stationed here."
Dex hummed, squeezing Plo’s sides gently as he thought. The end of the war was good news. Very good news.
“Be safe out there.”
Plo chuckled, tilting his head back and lightly bumping their foreheads together, their version of a kiss.
“I try my best to be.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
And Plo just laughed again, settling down in his hold once more. Dex traced the scarring across his chest in the meanwhile, both of them content and listening to the sounds of Coruscant beginning to wake.
Plo sighed after a moment. “I need to get going,” he murmured, regret in his tone and Dex reluctantly let him go.
The Kel Dor easily pulled on the rest of his robes, smoothing the fabric down. Dex swung his legs over the edge of the bed, easily finding his own clothing and pulling it on.
“Be safe,” he repeated as he stood, following Plo from the bedroom to the front door.
“I will,” he told him easily, despite the both of them knowing full well that being safe was something that was more of a luxury if anything. “I love you.”
Dex grinned at that, slapping the Kel Dor’s rear lightly, causing him to huff as he walked out and he was pleased to see that no matter how upright he held himself, there was a bit of a limp in his gait.
“Love you too, Plo,” he called, leaning on the door frame as the Kel Dor leaped into his speeder.
He stayed where he was, watching as Plo left before he let out a sigh, a smile still on his lips before he turned.
Yeah, the end of the war would be nice. He had some money saved up, he could definitely take Plo and his boys somewhere nice as a victory treat.
I'm sorry Dex, for what happens in the future.
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Here’s another AU no one asked for lmAO
This is just a little thing that I was thinking about with the help of resident scientist @bassuwun
Anyways, me and my crossovers, right?
[cracks fingers] lets go.
So, War is expensive. That’s a major point that’s brought up in a few of the Senate conversations we see in TCW. How to solve this? Exporting more than whats being imported— common trade and all that.
And, it can be assumed that it is the same on both sides of the war— the CIS is having similar problems when it comes to money, the only reason they seem to be doing better is because a.) they dont have to provide for a sentient army and b.) they’re taking planets and plundering by force.
Still, what if at the beginning Dooku is calculating the total costs. Which are a lot. He has his family’s treasury and a ton of other planets, but it doesn’t hurt to have a leg up. So he starts looking to other planets as well— because, he’s already planning on having the Separatists conquer all sorts of planets, why not plan for some of the most profitable ones too?
His planning sets sights on the possibly deserted planet marked down simply as a series of numbers.
There’s not much to that planet, a planet that is mostly sea with a single large land mass and six moons that surround it. There is little life there— bugs and insects, jellyfish, snails...
but more importantly, scans of the planet show that there are precious stones there. Tons of them.
So, Dooku plans on touching ground there personally. And of course, the Republic catches wind of this— sends some Jedi to intercept because they also need the plant for the resources.
But see, the whole problem with this is that the planet is not uninhabited. The sentients there just didn’t show up on the life scans.
The Jedi that are sent are Masters Plo Koon and Obi-Wan Kenobi, joined with— of course— Anakin Skywalker. And as soon ads the group touches down they comes face to face with a tall, bald man with sharp eyes dressed in black robes and cloak. Behind him were... well, they couldn’t have been older than teenagers. Some with vibrant, shining hair and eyes, others with rather plain looks, but they were all dressed uniformly in black attire, many with weapons— swords— hanging from their waists.
They didn’t show up on the life scans because they were not alive. There was no life in them, no Force, nothing. It was as if they had landed in front of statues dressed in clothing— but of course, this isn’t the case.
The Man speaks, a language that they do not understand, and the entire time, those behind him are tense. Some have their hands on weapons, ready to attack, but they do not move.
With neither group able to understand one another, they’re stuck at a stalemate. But the Man seems to understand that they mean no harm and simply turns and speaks to the teens behind him. And he motions for the Jedi— and their Commanders and Captains— to follow them.
The group lead the Jedi and Clones to a building made of stone and from there, things are... strange. While the Jedi eat and drink, these figures do not. The Jedi can walk silently, but these figures cannot— as if they are weighed down. They have a doctor, but no medicine. They are not alive and Anakin can’t wrap his mind around it. Obi-Wan does not seem to be having better luck with the concept either, though Plo seems to be doing better though that could be just because he’s unreadable and also used to strange living conditions.
So, he suggests that Obi-Wan and Anakin meditate. And they do, sitting calmly in one of the rooms that is bathed in the sunlight from the planet’s sole sun.
And then they feel it. It is so terribly faint that it might not even be there, but they feel the presence of the teenagers— all different and confusing. billions of little threads connected to create the faintest possible force presence around each of them.
These beings are alive, but they are not.
Still, that does not change anything, just that they are able to figure out who is where. Anakin starts calling them by colors— Green, Bi-Color, Blue, Lighter Blue, Darker Blue, Pink, etc.— until one day, as Plo is observing these figures as they go about their day.
He notices that they pair off, and go out into the fields, to the hills, and forest, and shore and look around. He watches one morning as the green haired strategist plan out a plan for the day, and as each of these figures go to work.
On the fifth day, the Clones are confused but settled into this sort of lazy life, still awaiting any danger and watching the skies, but then Boost, who was watching the skies, sees something. A dark shape, like a spot against the sun. He doesnt have time to alert Wolffe, who would tell Plo, before a loud ringing resounds around them— the building that the natives of the planet had brought them to had a large bell. And it was being rung.
The Clones barely have any time to form order before the teens all rush from the building with their leader.
The Jedi follow, as do the Clones and what they stop at and see is... astonishing.
Remember those gems that Dooku was after? The large concentration? These figures who looked no older than teenagers were those gems. And it makes sense now because even with the language barrier, they picked up some of the words they were using. Names of stones— names they called one another.
The Strategist, Jade.
Rutile the doctor.
‘Sensei’ their leader.
Phosphophyllite, Morganite, Goshenite, Bortz, Diamond, Yellow Diamond— it all makes sense as they look down at Goshenite and Morganite on the ground, broken to pieces.
And so the Jedi and the Clones learn, they learn. The language barrier is hard, and it clearly would take much longer to teach them Basic— they’ve all been cut off for so long, but they manage.
The Gems are the only ones on the planet with full sentience (from what they know), and they’re under threat by these other sentient beings who seem to only exist on the moons around the planet. While their spoken language is different, Plo knows enough to decipher the written, knowing that in fact, they’re all the Gems that they named themselves after. There are twenty eight of them, all of varying skills and hardness.
Dooku arrives within a week.
The first to engage Dooku are Diamond and Bortz, and maybe there are words spoken that neither group understand, but either way, a fight breaks out. Dia is all but tossed away by the Force, poor Dia, but by then several others have joined them— the Jedi included.
Now taunts are thrown, because the Disaster Lineage never misses a chance to taunt one another.
Eventually, the fight comes to actual blows instead of words and Force. Sabers clashing and Anakin learns how heavy a solid human worth of Neptunite really is. And then Dooku makes a swing for Bortz. Only instead of a shattering or a bisection that they expect, Bortz looks mildly annoyed as the Saber catches them in the hip. It manages to cut into them, sure, but it doesn’t go all the way through.
Their sword has already been broken, but their fists havent.
Dooku’s nose gets broken and skull is fractured by the time the Jedi and their men return to Coruscant with the Count in tow, and a bunch of new Rock Allies with them.
Diamond melts at 4,027°C / 7,280°F
Lightsabers? idk what heat they’re at but Damascus Steel/Wootz Steel is sorta what beskar is based off of? And that melting point is lower than Diamond. But also lightsabers are weird and a plasma arc is anywhere between 8000°C and 25000°C (between 14432°F and 45032°F). Given the evidence within the Star Wars universe and our own universe, we can conclude that the plasma blade of a lightsaber reaches a temperature of at least 1800°C, and could be high as 25000°C.
For the sake of this, I aimed much lower because I thought it would be funny if Dooku got beat by a rock.
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When Night Falls
Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Star Wars (Prequel Trilogy)
Summery: In one universe, newly minted Sith Darth Vader, once Anakin Skywalker, kills the Jedi Battlemaster, Cin Drallig. In another, Cin Drallig kills him.
I had a thought and ran with it. There are a handful of Temple Guards that are original characters with names, but they're like. not important. Also, a Charhound named Roq because the Temple Guard deserves a doggo to match with the Grizzer over in the Coruscant Guard.
Cin Drallig had known that something was horribly wrong when his connection to his Lineage Sibling, Kit Fisto, had abruptly shattered.
No. Before that. He had known, known when his connection to Saesee Tiin had snapped violently, that something horrible was going on.
The Battlemaster was known for his ability to remain still as he observed his students, and it was no different at the moment. With his arms behind his back as he watched over Whie Malreaux and his own Padawan, Bene McCallum, sparred in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. It was supposed to be a lesson in saber-control for the younger Padawans and Initiates with them, and certainly, he was proud of the two for displaying such control over their swings and strikes at their young age— Bene had just turned fifteen after all, and Whie was a few years older despite not exactly looking the part.
Still, as the two sparred and he pointed out a few important forms the two were using, he reached out with the Force, gently brushing across Shaak Ti’s warm presence, cooled like water in the spring as she meditated before reaching farther out, seeking Saesee’s presence.
The low thrum of the force that was in the back of his mind that represented Saesee had eased the mounting tension and Stress that Cin had been feeling in the Force since the War had started. And even though the end of the War was supposedly coming to an end, the aged Battlemaster was wary still.
Shaak Ti’s own warmth had soothed his raised hackles, as they— and many other Masters and Knights in the Temple— waited for the return of the other High Councilors.
The sudden loss had been a sharp blow, something physical that had Cin’s eyes widening and breath faltering before he turned in the direction of the entrance to the Room of a Thousand Fountains.
Shaak’s Force Signature had suddenly spiked when he felt the sudden snap of his bond with Saesee, so he knew his own signature must have as well and that her own bond must have snapped too. Heads turned to him as he went deathly still, more than he had been before.
“Master?” Bene tentatively asked, both confusion and worry in her eyes. Cin held a hand up.
“Continue with your spar,” He said carefully, keeping the unease, the fear, the pain from his voice, eyes still towards the entrance.
The Force was tense, tenser than ever and he blindly sought out Saesee, hoping, praying it was just some sort of faux snap, that he was still there— only to stagger with a gasp as Kit’s bond with him snapped.
The Nautolan had been his Lineage brother, the both of them trained by Yoda, and Cin had been there to oversee Kit’s perfection of Shii-Cho. The fact that Bene and Whie weren’t sparring vaguely registered in his mind as his breathing faltered.
Shaak Ti’s signature was reaching out to him, trying to calm his distress, but it was no use. Because the Force was tightening, a warning that something was to come. It wasn’t a good something either.
Saesee and Kit were gone.
“Padawans Malreaux, McCallum,” he said suddenly and both moved over to him as he turned. He placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “Take the rest of the Padawans and the initiates and prepare to evacuate the Temple.”
Bene looked startled at his words but someone had overheard them— an Iktotchi Padawan who was older than Whie by about a year. Ferren Barr.
“Master Drallig,” the much younger Iktotchi asked and his heart ached at the reminder of Saesee. “What’s this about, Master?”
Cin’s lips drew into a grim line and he looked back to the main entrance of the Room of a Thousand Fountains. “I have… a bad feeling.”
The three Padawans glanced at one another but nodded. While the phrase was something that was commonplace among the Jedi, it was still a signal— something had shifted in the Force.
“We’ll get going, then, Master,” Bene said, sheathing her lightsaber and she paused for a moment, looking up at him. “Please be careful.”
Cin allowed himself a small smile and gently pat her head. “And you as well, my Padawan,” he said before lightly pushing her towards where Whie and Ferren were rounding up the others. “Now go.”
She nodded and took off as Cin turned. He would have to believe in them.
His strides were long and quick as he crossed the large chamber, leaving it as he activated his comm. “This is Head of the Temple Security, Battlemaster Cin Drallig, all Knights and Masters available prepare for the worst. Padawans and Initiates, please move to evacuate. Temple Guard, to me.”
The announcement was quick and to the point, announced on every Comm he had connected to his own— which were most all of them, for security reasons, within the Temple. It didn’t take long before the white, gray, and beige robes of the Temple Guard flanked his own as he walked quickly to the front of the Temple. The white and gold faces of their helmets hid each of his students’— each of his children, for he had taught most of them and thought of them as his own— faces from him, but their confusion and worry was felt through the Force. The dark pelt of the Gaurd’s resident Charhound joined them, smoke curling from his maw and oranges and reds rippling across his markings.
Red, white, blue, and brown entered his vision as Shaak Ti dropped from one of the many open-walled halls above them, landing gracefully at his side.
“Do you have any clue on what awaits us, Shaak Ti?” he asked as soon as she fell in step with him. Padawans and the younger Knights rushing past them in the opposite direction.
The Togruta shook her head, letting out a breath. “Saesee is dead, as are Agen Kolar, Kit Fisto, and Mace Windu,” she murmured, hand brushing against his and he grimaced, feeling the sharp pain of loss again. Yes, he had felt Agen's presence vanish before Saesee's and Mace's as they moved through the halls.
“Yes,” he managed, swallowing. “And… we will have time to mourn when this is over.”
He took her hand, squeezing it for a moment before they stopped at the Temple entrance.
Cin assumed his usual stance, waiting with his hands behind his back while the Temple Guards stood in formation behind him, Shaak Ti next to him before his former Padawan, Serra Keto, leaped down from the halls above to join them. He gave her a look but she simply shrugged.
If it was her wish to be on the frontlines, he would allow her. She was strong enough, after all, to be labeled as his successor— and when he passed, she would become the next Battlemaster.
The Force was a storm, the choking, inky feeling of Darkness creeping closer and closer and he felt the Temple Guard behind him tense, heard their Charhound growl lowly. Shaak Ti’s hand was already on her lightsaber. But Cin remained still. The Shoto-Sabers on the back of his belt in reach, his usual Lightsaber on his hip, and the Sabestaff on the other as he waited.
The first sign of a hood entered their view and the Force was screaming now, so many lives being cut down— it made his chest tighten with each life. Jedi were being killed and mowed down, sparks of fear and betrayal only meant one thing.
He felt Shaak Ti stop breathing next to him, as the white and blue helmets marched into the temple behind the hooded figure.
Anakin Skywalker raised a hand, halting the Clones of the 501st Legion behind him, blasters trained on them all as the Saberikes and Saberstaffs of the Guard were ignited, Serra’s duel blades lit up, and Shaak Ti had her own in hand, unhooked from her belt with her thumb on the ignition.
“Skywalker,” Cin said smoothly, hands still behind his back. “How… lovely that you’ve brought your men to the Temple. Here for some sightseeing?”
Skywalker’s eyes narrowed and Cin inclined his head.
“The Jedi are traitors to the Republic,” the boy hissed before he drew his lightsaber, the blue blade igniting and it made a bile taste rise up in his mouth. How dare he wield a blade that color. “I am only doing what my Master has ordered me to do.”
“Your Master Kenobi would be disappointed in you,” he said back, dropping his arms to his side before he called his lightsaber into his hand with the Force, igniting the green-colored blade. “So I can only assume that you’ve fallen to the Sith.”
“I am doing what is good for the Republic! For the new Empire!”
“An Empire? And you’re going to do this by killing children, Skywalker?” Shaak Ti snarled, already poised to attack. The Clones behind Skywalker shifted, Blasters still trained on them, and in his peripheral lines of sight, Cin could see some of the other Knights and Masters gathering, preparing to fight as well.
“Enough! I will do as I must to save the Republic!” Skywalker boomed before he flicked a hand. The Clones began to open fire and Cin could feel Shaak Ti’s pain through their bond as she blocked the first few bolts.
And like that, chaos erupted. A tide of blue and white, hundreds-strong, surged into the temple, all with blasters alight and an intent to kill. For every Jedi, there were at least five of the Clones, and Cin found himself cutting down the men who once the Jedi had called their brothers, their sons, and, to some, their lovers in swathes as he made his way to Skywalker. Serra had leaped over the troopers, blocking the volley of bolts blasted at her, engaging with the fallen Jedi as the battle raged. She had been the closest to his location and he only hoped that she could hold out against the fallen Jedi— he had no wish to feel her death in the Force.
Several Clones managed to get past the Jedi in the front hall, and some Knights gave chase, cutting them down before they could get farther— only to be gunned down as more surged past.
Cin had enough time to activate his comm as he struck another Clone down with one swing.
“Bene, get the Padawans and Initiates off of Coruscant!”
He didn’t have time to listen to a response as he threw his hand out, sending several troopers flying back into the waiting pikes of the Guard. With another flick of his hand, he gathered up the sabers of the slain. Cin was, admittedly, a decent marksman. While it didn’t fall into the typical styles of Saberskills, throwing a lightsaber was certainly something that had its merits. And the Guard caught on. It was something he had taught them all at one point— in the event of a siege on the Temple, use everything to your advantage.
Sabers flew through some clones, flicked like toothpicks through the air with the use of the Force as he slashed another. There was a deep rumble as several Jedi brought down one of the statues, killing a number of Clones as others— Jedi and Clone alike below— dove out of the way before they resumed fighting. Rubble was used to block or as projectiles against the soldiers, and more Lightsabers were thrown and launched through the force. He saw flames from the Guard's Charhound, Roq, as the canine wove between Troopers alongside Ashe Lark and Mari Gildow, Ashe's Pike and Mari's Staff abandoned as they used the Lightsabers of their slain siblings to cut down Clones.
But it wasn’t enough. He saw the familiar forms and the pale Guardsmen robes of Hakra Dorgoa and Flin Ros-Vel as they were gunned down to the left of him, their pikes still gripped in hand. He saw Knights and Masters fall under rains of blaster bolts and for every Clone Trooper, they killed, another five seemed to take their place.
A flash of yellow made his eyes narrow as he saw one of the Guards turn on their own— pike going through Nira Tal’s chest and from behind her helmet, Cin saw her eyes widen in betrayal before she crumpled. But Shaak was there, severing the head of the traitor from his neck before he could turn on another and Cin had no time to dwell on it as he took his second lightsaber in hand. He cut down more troopers, keeping Skywalker in his line of sight as he threw Serra out of the way. His former Padawan landed with a crack against the floor, but she staggered back up, engaging with a group of Clones who had turned their attention to her.
The Fallen Jedi turned, though, seeing Cin and cutting his way through Clone and Jedi alike to get to him. Cin was ready though, he knew that if he fell here that was it.
Shaak Ti was strong, yes, but the defense of the Jedi within the Temple hinged on them both surviving long enough for one of them to take Skywalker out— to put an end to him.
So Cin knew— he had to kill Skywalker here and now. And he hoped to the gods that Bene, Whie, and Ferren got the Padawans, Initiates, and younglings out if he failed.
Blue and green clashed in a melding of light and sparks, Cin keeping his face impassive even as Skywalker threw his hand out and strangled another Knight who moved to aid Cin in battle.
Skywalker was cocky, but with the power to back him up. That was what the other had become and Cin knew he would have to be careful. He couldn’t let his own shortcomings, his age, and the pull of old scars, allow Skywalker an inch to take advantage of.
Skywalker used Shien, Djem So, and Ataru. And even then, he primarily used Djem So and Shien. The form that had powerful strikes and would keep Cin on the defensive. So he would use that to his advantage, he would counter that form with another.
Cin drew his arms in, abandoning his second Lightsaber and deflecting Skywalker’s heavy strikes.
One step back, twist, stay in control.
Deflect, swing, duck.
Don’t let him have an inch.
Block. Don’t look as Skywalker strangles Tacor Anulig, as her hands claw at the collar of Guard robes, as her nails drag against the metal mask before going limp.
Strike. Press forwards.
Don’t falter. Don’t underestimate Skywalker. Don't give him an inch.
Assume every strike is deadly—
Cin knew it was a misstep the moment he made it, his saber arm drawing back and he felt a spike of panic and fear from the end of his and Shaak’s bond as white-hot pain ripped across his chest, shoulder to hip and he staggered back. He had been careless and this was the price. He could feel his body falling, see darkness threading the edges of his vision as his eyes fell to the ceiling of the temple. The sound of blaster bolts ringing in his ears, the cry of “Master!” from Serra, from the Guard, the pained howl from Shaak, and—
Don’t you dare fall here, Cin Drallig!
A presence that was too familiar pressed against his mind, faint, but there.
Gods dammit Saesee.
Even after death, he was still as forceful as ever on reminding him he still had farther to go, to not give in to death so easily.
Cin’s grip on his lightsaber tightened, and he pushed the pain away. A strike like that should’ve been lethal, but Skywalker hadn’t gone deep enough. It had gone through flesh and cauterized the injury, but it hadn't even seared the bone. There would be lasting damage, for sure, but he was the gods damned Battlemaster. He had fought battles that had made his hands bleed, fought toe-to-toe with the best in the Order to secure his position, for fucks sake he was Yoda's second best after Dooku because he had pushed himself to throw himself over the bar the other had left for all of Yoda's Padawans afterward.
He caught himself, bracing back on one foot and balancing and getting the fuck back up. Because Saesee was right— He couldn’t afford to lose. Not here. There were hundreds of lives hinging on his own.
“A valiant effort, Skywalker,” he grit, and the dark-clad young man whirled around. He called his second saber into his hand and ignited it. “But a failed one. We’re not finished here.”
“Then I will kill you this time, Drallig!”
The scathing hate in Skywalker’s voice hurt— just a bit. He had been there when he was a child, watched and corrected his stance (though the boy hadn’t even listened to him, anyway) when he was only as tall as his waist.
What had become of that boy, Cin wondered as he met Skywalker’s wild and heavy strikes. He twisted and dodged and ignored the screaming pain and burn from his injury, the blood that oozed from the initial cauterization staining his robes.
Blue clashed with green and yellow as he blocked and deflected strikes, ignored injuries that followed. Around him, bodies of both Clone and Jedi fell, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t hesitate. He had hesitated once, and it nearly cost him, but not now. Not here.
Skywalker was overflowing with rage, eyes burning that bright, sickly yellow with the red ring of hate around them. “Why won't you just die?!”
"Should’ve thought about that when you attacked!” He spat back, switching from Jar’Kai to Joyu as his heart pounded in his ears. He needed to enter a full Joyu trance before slipping into Vapaad.
Slash, strike, block, ADVANCE. He could feel the barriers he used to keep his calm and stern facade for the students lower, feel the emotions— the hurt, the desperation, the betrayal, the need to protect— flowing through him.
The stronger Skywalker strikes got, the stronger Cin’s counters became, the closer he struck— faster, more erratic, keep him guessing, throw him off, STRIKE!
The world around him didn’t matter, just Skywalker. It was a dangerous sort of tunnel vision, with so many enemies around, but he had to trust that the other Masters, Knights, and Guards would watch his back— as few as they were.
The reservations of a Jedi that Cin had drilled into all his students and every Padawan that passed through his Hall’s doors began to fade. He had to go deeper, become more unpredictable, go farther, allow the inky blackness of the Dark Side to reach his mind.
Yellow met blue before Skywalker leaped back to avoid a strike from Cin’s other Lightsaber. A Jedi was thrown to the side as they tried to make a move to attack Skywalker but he had no time to think on them, to grieve them, or hope for their help as blaster shots sounded in his ears.
Blue and Green clashed again, the heat of the lightsabers both familiar and foreign, but Cin didn’t give in. Skywalker pressed down, trying to use his own height and physical prowess against him, but Cin had been fighting for years against a multitude of opponents. He knew how to deal with a human who was taller than he was.
He grounded his stance, bending under Skywalker for a moment, a spark of confidence felt in Skywalker’s mind and Cin latched onto that. He pushed up, throwing Skywalker back as Cin slipped from Joyu into Vapaad.
There was a rush of— of hate. Hate and anger and fear so volatile and powerful that Cin faltered, just barely able to block the strike aimed to take his arm from his shoulder— but the pain was still there. He had still been hit, the biting heat of the Lightsaber ran deep.
But he wasn’t compromised just yet.
Cin pushed past the torrent of emotions from Skywalker and turned them on the fallen Jedi, sending Skywalker back with a powerful kick before he advanced. Their lightsabers clashed again, the darkness in Skywalker raging and bringing a further swell of power up through them both— the power behind their intent no longer mattered, just who was the better swordsman. And Cin wasn't about to lose here. He gave in fully to the torrent of emotions Vapaad allowed him to use, pulling everything he knew from battle to fight back.
His strikes were stronger, faster, more unpredictable as he moved. And Skywalker was losing ground, but there was no time to feel any victory over that.
Strike. Advance. Parry. Block. Counter. Advance. Slash. Dodge. Advance. Advance. ADVANCE!
And there it was. An opening as Skywalker’s arm was thrown back from Cin’s deflection. He wasted no time, bringing his other lightsaber forward and thrusting it through Skywalker’s chest. He let it go as he saw Skywalker's face twist in anger before his eyes widened, and Cin used the Force for good measure. He pushed the weapon deeper with a strong Force Push and threw Skywalker back as well.
The Force shifted then, all around them and— And Cin wasn’t sure what that meant. The Clones faltered, unsure what to do without their leader but that only left them open to attack.
Without Skywalker’s presence eating at the Force, fraying the nerves of so many Jedi, a counter-attack in order to enter into a running retreat.
It wasn’t a choice they wanted to make, Cin knew, as he cut through Clones, running purely on adrenaline now as he slipped from Vapaad back into Djem So. But nonetheless, it was one they had to make. The Jedi needed to survive and regroup because they still didn’t know what was going on. Because the Force was screaming with deaths that Cin had been shutting out the entire fight because he had to.
But Cin had to do something first.
He hit his comm as he cut through another group of Clones, a single goal in mind.
“This is Jedi Battlemaster Cin Drallig. I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen with the Dark Shadow of the Empire rising to take their place. This is a message and a warning for any remaining and surviving Jedi. Trust in the Force and where it may Guide you. Do not return to the Temple. That time has passed and our future is clouded and uncertain. We will each be challenged. Our trust, our faith, our friendships— but we must not waver. We mustn’t falter. We must persevere. And in time, a new hope will emerge. Have faith and follow the Force where it may Guide you. Survive and live to fight another day."
Cin leaned heavily on Shaak as they and the rest of the Knights, Masters, and the few Padawans who stayed behind made their way to the Hangar. Cin had permanently destroyed the beacon’s code alterations after telling all remaining Jedi to disperse and the Order was fallen. So long as there were no other hidden traitors to the Order who were of the Masters or Elders, the warning message would be sent out to all the Jedi in the Galaxy.
So, that lead them to where they were now. A running retreat with several of the older members of the Guard steeling themselves and choosing to hold off the Clones until their last. They had simply told them it was their duty, and urging those who were younger, who came into the Guard after Cin had become head of the Guard, to retreat and protect the rest.
And it hurt, knowing that the many if not all of the Guard who remained behind would die, but it was the best option. It was their choice and the Jedi in the Temple had to leave.
Bene had sent him an encrypted message that she and the rest of the padawans and younglings, along with Master Sinube and a few of the other Elders, were headed to Dantooine. The Jedi within the temple had agreed to split up and slowly make their way there. Cin, three of the remaining Temple Guard (and of course Roq the Charhound), Shaak Ti, Sha Koon, Bant Eerin, Vokara Che, and Jocasta Nu would go directly there with some of the Padawans who remained behind— they would hopefully catch up with Sinube and the others before they made it to Dantooine.
Serra, Coleman Kcaj, Fey Koon, the remaining Guard, and the other Knights and Masters would protect the rest of Padawans that had remained and would slowly meet with them— either in space or on Dantooine.
When they did, they would regroup, figure something out because surely, Yoda was not dead yet— they could all still feel him there. They just needed to regroup, figure out what to do next.
They had no time to mourn the fallen, and with a tug of the force, many of their lightsabers had gone into Jedi hands, but still...
Escaping was the important part.
Cin grunted as Shaak Ti lowered him into a seat of one of the Jedi supply freighters. Sha and Jocasta had moved to the cockpit, preparing for take-off, and the last of the Jedi were boarding ships as well. The sounds of blasterfire still echoed in his ears as the doors to the ship closed.
Almost as soon as they did and as soon as Shaak moved from his side, Vokara and Bant were over him, cutting his tunics away. Vokara’s hand was cold on his chest and it cut through the burning pain. He hissed as he felt the Force flowing through him, hopefully healing him, but he had no idea. Bant was spreading Bacta against the injury on his shoulder before she moved to his other injuries.
Sinube and the Padawans had taken the last of the frigates with an active Bacta Tank in it, as it had been one of the largest Ships remaining, Cin just had to hold on until they caught up. The battle to save as many Jedi as possible within the Temple was over, but the real fight was only beginning and he couldn't die yet. Not yet.
He let out a breath, head falling back against the hard metal of the wall as he closed his eyes for a moment.
Certainly, it would be alright to rest for a bit. There were seasoned Masters and Knights on board. He could take time to rest… right?
Shaak Ti’s slender fingers gently closed around his hand, squeezing it lightly as comfort and worry seeped through their bond. He pushed back reassurance, but he was exhausted— they all were, though. He forced his eyes open only for a noise of disgruntled confusion to escape the back of his throat as the Togruta covered his eyes with her hand.
“Sleep,” he heard her murmur, squeezing his hand again, and he found that he no reason to argue with her.
He closed his eyes slowly, letting out a breath, and he fell into unconsciousness.
When Cin opened his eyes again, he was flat on his back in one of the bunks of an unfamiliar ship. He sat up slowly, wincing at the white-hot pain that erupted from his chest, but he didn't stop, swinging his legs over the edge of the bunk's frame. Bandages were wound around his entire upper body and over bacta patches against what should have been the killing blow from Skywalker. His Lightsabers were set not too far from where he was and he easily called the two blades to his hands. No sooner had they fallen into his hands did the door open and instantly he was on his feet, teeth grit through the sharp pain as he ignited the Lightsabers, falling into a familiar stance.
Only for him to lower the weapons and shoulders to slump as Yoda slowly made his way in, ears fallen and eyes sad.
"Awake, it is good to see you," Yoda said softly as he hobbled over to him and he sheathed the two sabers before he hooked them on the waistband of his pants. The ancient Master was missing his Gimer stick, Cin faintly noticed as he slowly sat back down on the edge of the bunk. The act of standing back up so suddenly had drained him of what strength he had.
"It is... good to see you, Grandmaster," he managed, lowering his head a bit and Yoda 'hrmm'd before reaching up and gently smoothing his hair down with the force.
"A relief it is, that so many have survived," his former Master agreed, "Led the charge and saved many, Shaak Ti says you did."
"It is the duty of the Guard to defend the Temple from threats," he murmured, absently rubbing his chest as if it would make the pain stop. It was still burning white-hot despite the time from the infliction to now being so great. "I was simply doing my job."
Yoda climbed up onto the bed next to Cin, a clawed hand gently resting on his arm. "Got your message, I did. Many Jedi going into Hiding, they are. Saved many more, you have. Others will join us, Master Sinube says. Joined us already, Masters Kenobi and Monn, and Knights Swan and Lissarkh have."
He just nodded absently. Even with so many saved, there were more he could not have saved, there were more who were dead. Good people, ones gone in an instant under lightsaber or blaster fire, and ones who were gone not as quickly, struggling to survive under injury or Force Choking, only to fail and—
He wasn't able to stop the choked noise that escaped him. He bowed his head, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes as he took in a shuddering breath as he struggled to force back the overwhelming tide of grief that slammed into him. Only... the Grandmaster gently placed a hand on his head, sadness bleeding out into the force as he stroked his hair and Cin broke.
And for the first time since his Knighting, Cin allowed himself to break down like a youngling in front of his old Master again.
Also, yes, I know the Force doesn't work that way and by all rights, Cin should probably be dead but like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ so should Vader after Sha bisected him in the comics but he got to live because of plot reasons.
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its not wip wed but i felt like posting something so here we go
“Did they hurt?”
Plo supposed he hadn’t exactly been expecting the question, though he knew that it would come up eventually as he lay on his stomach, reading from a datapad. Kit Fisto’s touch was light, trailing down the lines the decorated his back.
“Hm?” Plo lifted his head a bit. “Ah, yes. A bit. It’s a final rite for those among the sages who pass their final trials. Kel Dor skin is tough, it’s a long process for just one to get carved, but as you can tell, that’s not just the case here...”
“Do they all mean something if they’re final rites for the Sages?” The Nautolan asked.
Plo was quiet for a moment, but nodded. “They do. You’ve seen the ones across my chest and my upper ribs, yes?”
Kit made a noise of confirmation as he nodded.
“Those are the mark of the winds, the signify my rank among the Sages as both one of them and a Jedi.”
“Does Fey have them?”
“Mm, yes and no. They are similar in structure, though his wind across his collarbones and down his arms, stopping short at the wrist.”
Kit hummed before tapping a spot at the nape of his neck. “And the one on your collar?”
“Ah, that signifies my standing as one do the Kel Dor who can put themselves into a state of stasis. Anya-Seff, dead brain.”
“And this here?”
His fingers traced the one in the center of his back.
Plo chuckled at that. “The Koon Clan family crest. Should I leave the Order and return home, and then wed, another Clan’s crest would also be added to the arrangement.”
“Mm... the Koon Clan’s looks a bit like wings, almost.”
“It does, doesn’t it?”
Plo shivered a bit, feeling him trace the fern-like scarring that curled and stretched down his spine, breaking off towards his shoulder and down one arm. “Lichtenberg figures?”
“In part of my abilities, I have been marked as a Storm Caster among the Sages, the faint figures were already seen under my skin, I chose to take the title of a Storm Caster and have the figures become more pronounced.”
Kit hummed at that. He had told the other Master of the full extent of his abilities once before, and trusted him not to spread it around the temple. The Council frowned at his used of lightning, though a good number of them understood that it was also something that stemmed from the Sages. It was not something that was Evil, though some were wary and fearful about it.
But that was fair. Lightning and storms were something people often feared.
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Because it Burns and Burns
Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Star Wars (Prequel Trilogy)
Rating: K/Not Rated
Summery: Plo Koon was a stifled storm, and lightning burns and burns
Hey idk this was a whump idea from a while ago I never got around to publishing but here it is now
There were moments when Plo Koon hated being a Jedi— no matter what the code said about hate.
He let out a shuddery breath, feeling his fingers twitch inventorially as he clasped them tighter, folded neatly in front of him— he was grateful that he had reverted to wearing his full robes for this meeting, so the other Councilors couldn’t see his twitching and tensing. He pretended to not notice the looks that Shaak Ti and Kit would give him, the looks that Mace would give him before his eyes would narrow at Yoda.
All of his energy was focused on keeping himself as still as possible while listening, keeping himself from wincing and jerking in pain as the energy within him crackled and burned.
Ever since Metellos he had burned, a sharp, painful, electric burn. One that seemed to never end no matter how much he meditated and pushed his pain into the force.
Since Metellos he had doubled— tripled, even— down on his mental walls, which had already been nearly impenetrable with the Baran Do techniques on top of the training Master Tyvokka and Master Saa had taught him, on top of the ones that his Uncle had taught him, and the ones that he had known on his own. He strengthened them, even to the point where Sha admitted it was hard to feel him at times.
But now he was even pressing his limits because there were more people he had to protect his projected pain from. His hands twitched again and he tightened his hold on the Force, stopping the sparks that wanted to be free, stopping them from arcing across his fingertips as he listened to the Council— around him, various vode moved, Wolffe remaining in his line of sight, but through his haze of pain he could feel his Commander and son’s worry.
“— very well, then Masters Mundi and Kenobi will go and reinforce Master Unduli’s position,” Mace was saying, eyes flickering to Plo’s form as he stared straight ahead. He had no clue what was being talked about, what the Council was discussing. If it was pressing, then Mace tended to send out a recap so he didn’t have to worry about missing anything but still. The pain was spreading, nerves under his skin twitching, and his entire nervous system felt like it was on fire.
Wolffe was watching him now, fully turned from where he had been going over something with Sinker and Boost, brows drawn together.
Plo chanced a glance down and grimaced internally. One or two sparks leaped from his fingertips, but his color was off. Skin too pale, too clammy and he tucked his hands into his sleeves.
Kit wasn’t even hiding his worry anymore, gaze fully on him and eyes narrowed. Shaak Ti was talking. He wasn’t sure on what. He felt like he was being burned from the inside out.
But he couldn’t show it— wasn’t allowed to show it. Lightning was dangerous, the mark of a Sith. The mark of the Dark Side. He couldn’t show that he was in pain, that he had lost control and remained out of control of the Force ever since Metellos.
(“It’s the mark of the highest tiers of the Sages, little explorer,” Ban Sult had told him once, but even so, Dorin was the only place he could truly be without pain now.)
As the meeting ended, Plo remained silent and still, taking measured breaths before he clicked the system off, hands shaking.
“Sir?” Wolffe’s voice was quiet but Plo tucked his hands back into his robes.
“Please handle anything for the time being,” he murmured instead. “I am tired, I wish to rest.”
Wolffe looked skeptical but stopped himself from questioning him— which Plo was grateful for.
“If you say so, sir,” the Commander said and Plo gave him a nod. Breathe slowly.
He closed his eyes for a moment before he moved, feeling the electric pain in his nerves flare and he wanted to scream. But he couldn’t.
Don’t show that you’ve lost control. Don’t show that you’ve gained the Force abilities of a Sith. Don’t show that you’re in pain because you’ve lost control—
He managed to make it to his quarters in time, the com on his wrist blinking as the locks on his door sealed tight. The lights remained off as he removed his mask and goggles.
It burned. He burned. Sparks leaped from his skin but he tightened his grip on the force. Lightning was the mark of the Sith. Lightning was the mark of the Sages but it was the mark of the Sith. And it burned.
Grandmaster Yoda knew best. Knew best to keep him in the Light. But it burned. He couldn’t go back to Dorin, and it burned. There was no time—
The emergency band activated and Plo gazed wearily at Shaak's blue form, his friend and fellow Master gazing at him in worry.
“Plo? Are you alright?”
Her voice was soft, and through their close bond, he could feel faint worry. But there was pain clouding everything. He was in pain. It burned, crawling across and tearing through his skin, searing his nerves, eating his bones—
“I’m burning, Shaak,” he whispered, closing his eyes as he let out a shuddery breath. “I’m burning and I cannot do anything to soothe the pain.”
The lightning he held back did nothing but burn, demanding to be released but he couldn’t.
Lightning was the mark of the Sith.
Shaak was talking. What was she saying?
Lightning was the mark of the Sith.
And Plo burned because of it.
¯\_(ツ)_/¯ at last Plo has friends who worry about him?
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Eldrich (?) Entity Jedi AU
Just in it’s conceptual stage but you know. The Force is Funky ™
5 + 1: Five Times the Council Snapped and One Time it Wasn’t Someone On the Council— or something like that
The Jedi Council is very peculiar about who they chose to be on the council, along with very, very attentive to how the Force manifests in younglings. The Jedi Listen to the Force, but it also listens to them and sometimes its... unique. Everyone on the Council had these manifestations dwelling within them, Jedi that were not only the strongest but also most controlled. Wise because they had to be.
When a Jedi snaps, they don't always fall. It was a little known secret among a handful of them.
There's a manifestation that can be sensed by those trained to sense them— a manifestation that some might even call a parasite or a demon that the Force creates. Hidden, waiting.
Emotions aren't dangerous, but they're something that needed to be controlled— that's why the Council always seemed to be these distant figures, beings who keep all their emotion controlled. Thats why there are masters around who seem to be "perfect to the code" that aren’t emotional, release everything into the force.
Until the war that is.
War wears down on everyone and it's not like the Council is off the frontlines— many are right there in the thick of it.
Surprisingly, though, the first to snap is Oppo Rancisis, one of the leaders of the 91st Corp.
Oppo Rancisis is old. He knows death, he knows pain, he's seen his friends pass on through age, sickness, and murder. But it’s different with the Clones— the Council knows, these Clones are just Children. They're just children. Adults physically and mentally, but they're just children, really.
And, see, the funny thing about the Force is that it's unique to each figure. When called upon, it reacts to every one of their abilities, to whatever suits them the best.
The Separatists who had been killing the Clones didn't expect for Rancisis' form to start writhing, for his jaw to unhinge fully for blood and poison and bone to be pulled from his jaws— seemingly endless as a swirl of power that twined and twisted upwards.
Oppo Rancisis is a Thisspiasian. And Thisspiasian culture was one of proud warriors, who kept their emotions well-concealed and their rages checked. Many outsiders saw only a Thisspiasian's outward facade of tranquility, and to most being it seemed as if Thisspiasians existed in a sea of calm. But that was just a facade.
Oppo Rancisis was a passionate Jedi under his calm exterior, and Thisspiasians were serpentine.
The Clones of the 91st, those of their small sub group with the Master who were all still living that is, watched in horror as this manifestation made from more blood, bone, and poison that the Jedi probably had wreck havoc on the Separatists on the plant. A monster made from blood and bone and poison that stretched for miles long, with jaws and fangs and more jaws and teeth lining the inside of its maw and far too many eyes all while Rancisis was still, but form distorted and there were still too many eyes, to many pointed lines, too many shadows— but the eyes were not golden and red, the eyes firmly remained brown. Brown and green.
The Clones, when the monster, the horror had been satiated and seemed to vanish into nothing, did not speak of it. They were wary, of course, but they did not speak of what they witnessed. Not as one of them was tempted to level his blaster at Master Rancisis' back as he led them back to the ship, not as the Thisspiasian locked himself in his quarters to report to the council— not when they heard through the door:
"I have lost control of my Manifestation briefly, it has returned but the damage is... more explosive than I recall it ever being. Be wary, my friends.”
On the other hand, it's rather unsurprising that Shaak Ti is the next to snap. After Hypori, she did not take many missions. The loss had been too great and perhaps thats where the first fissures started to form. It was a gradual break, she would later state when she cleaned the blood from her hands.
Instead of other missions, she was sent to Kamino. She watched, taught, and became a protector of the Cadets and Clones there. She wiped the blood and sweat from their brows, bared her teeth at the Bounty Hunters and the Kaminoans. She was theirs and they were hers.
So how dare the Kaminoans think that it was acceptable to terminate infants. Not even out of the tubes. Truly, she snarled and snapped at the Kaminoans when they tried it with the others, but these? These were Infants.
Colt and the Rancor Battalion have never spoken of what happened that day. Of how Shaak Ti's vocal chords seemed to create an unearthly wailing screech as she cradled a dead child, no larger than her forearm, in her arms, as they watched her body, her muscles and bones shift under her skin as the wailing continued before cutting off abruptly.
They don't talk about how she so gently set the child down, closed its eyes before everything around them seemed to explode. They dont talk about how Shaak Ti seemed to explode into pure energy, with too many teeth and too many claws and too many eyes and when they locked eyes with Rancisis' platoon on the way back they just somehow knew. There were always too many eyes.
Colt and the Rancor dont talk about how Shaak Ti moved, unearthly noises leaving her in the forms of wails and snarls, how she raked claws across metal and tore it like Flimsi, how she cracked and broke Kaminoan bones, how she crushed skulls under her feet or how she was soaked in blood when the consolidated energy receded and she returned to herself, cradling another child in her arms and sorrow in her eyes.
Colt and the Rancor don't talk about how they heard her warning the Council to have a tighter grip on their emotions. And how they'd need to compensate Kamino for the slaughter.
But if Shaak Ti's emotions raged like so, the Council individually braced themselves. After all, they all had a feeling who was next— even he did.
Plo Koon had always been strangely confusing for many Jedi who didn’t know him well. A man who was Calm, Silent, Collected— but also compassionate, loving, and gentle. Conflicting in ways that many Jedi did not understands, speaking of not getting attached yet he loved so fiercely.
(Eeth had only sighed and handed over the credits when the news of the Council's own miniature storm god finally made an appearance.)
The 104th knows they were lucky to have Plo Koon as their Jedi General. They knew it ever since they had been brought together. General Koon will listen, General Koon will help you, will let you be free from your "programing", will look the other way if you want to have a relationship with someone outside the GAR— or inside— and will give you material possessions and the care of a parent that you never knew you had ever wanted because they were normal to Nat Borns but not to the Clones but to him you were no different.
The 104th knows they're lucky. But there are more things they never knew about their Jedi General because for as much as he allowed them to come to him with their problems, Plo Koon never went to them.
To the Council, it was no surprise when the weight of endless battle, endless war, endless deaths he had witnessed finally came to fruition.
To the 104th, it was horror, it was fear, it was realizing that it was only because the Jedi were good that they managed to keep such destruction under their skin.
The 104th knows they're lucky when they first see lightning leap across the skin of their General.
A campaign to a planet to put a stop to some Separatists. Thats all it was. A simple task, but then it wasn't. Then suddenly it was pain, blindness and loosing so many brothers because it had been a trap.
When the 104th returns they know they're lucky but they don't tell. They don't talk about how Plo Koon suddenly went still in the face of an army, about how emerald lightning sparked and how the temperature plummeted. How the light seemed to go out and their General tilted his head back. They don't talk about how it suddenly became difficult to breathe without their helmets on, how they all scrambled to get the injured resuited and their helms on their heads. They don't talk about how they watched in horror as their General took his mask and googles off, so calm and deathly still.
They don't talk about the lightning and clouds that spiraled from his mouth into the sky above, or how that creature too had way too many eyes, too many claws, jaws, and teeth. They don't talk about the frost that spread from under Plo's feet, or how some of their lips turned blue under their helmets despite being several feet away.
They dont talk about how Plo's shadow seemed to distort, or how darkness and lightning seemed to envelop half of his form, how his talons seemed longer, and how many eyes there were.
The 104th isn't a battalion known for being afraid, but they shrink back, still and watching as the separatists are decimated by storm, by wind, ice and lightning.
They don't talk about the lightning that continued to spark from their General as they returned to Coruscant, nor do they talk about how Plo seals himself away until they return, or about how the ship seems to smell of ozone and rain.
They dont talk as they meet with their brothers about how their buir is a miniature storm god, wound in tight control who could level a planet if he wanted to.
Agen Kolar was... confusing to most. With no clones under his command and almost the complete opposite to his predecessor and brother, Eeth Koth, there were those who viewed him as nothing more than a violent attack dog that the Council had set in place because they felt as if they needed another Zabrak.
He was fierce, but calculating. Strong and unshakable. Always the better swordsman, always stronger, always getting back up on his feet— always so controlled in his emotions.
No one expected him to snap, just like how no one expected it from Oppo Rancisis.
To make it clear though, the Outer Rim sucked. Huttspace Sucked. Agen had always had a strong sense of Justice— as black and white as it seemed to be. Evil was to be condemned, good was to be preserved.
Agen had a strong sense of justice, but a violent way of going about it. Agen was the Council's attack dog, he had garnered that name— as unkind as it was— but even dogs had things they cared about.
Children were precious, he knew that first and foremost as a Jedi. Life was precious, those who took it without a care were to be dealt with.
Agen had a Padawan once. One who was bright and happy and so excited to be a Jedi. One who loved flowers, who was enthusiastic about learning, who laughed and thought that Agen's age-mates and friends were amazing— no matter the fact that they were a Shistavanen, a Trandoshan, a Kel Dor, another human, and a Twi'Lek.
Agen suspects that he began to reach a breaking point when he closed Tan's eyes for the last time on the dusty sands of the Petranaki Arena. He suspects that he knew the look that Plo Koon gave him when he hauled the Kel Dor Master up into the LAAT/i when they left.
Agen cherished children, they were bright and gentle.
Agen hated slavery.
He had refused the Clones because of it, though he knew he was cementing the other Masters and Councilors to taking battalions instead because of his choice. Agen hated slavery and ignored some orders in order to crush slave rings instead.
Agen's snap isn't an emotional tide like Plo's or Shaak's or Oppo's, it is sudden and quick to the point. Just like he often was.
The Child had looked like Tan. Dark hair and bright blue eyes. The Child had looked just like Tan with dark hair in the sun and bright blue eyes— filled with fear and scared because gods he was being sold to die.
Zabrak were felines, yes. But Agen was also a dog in name. But either way he was a predator, just like Shaak Ti was.
And unlike Shaak Ti there was no one around to really remember what he had become. No one to remember the cracking of bones, as his Manifestation lashed out and covered his body like another skin, this one with just as many teeth and claws as Shaak's but ten times more dangerous with horns and nothing like the cramped halls of Kamino's city to hold him back. Because even when he detached from it, it was still active, destroying speeders, moving as an extension of himself just like the rest did. With too many teeth and a body that was neither zebrak, feline, or canine. A demon in the sands of Tatooine.
Because even when he detached himself from inside of the creature he still moved like a man possessed, with nails sharp and teeth like razors, horns growing and spiraling upwards.
By the time Agen returns to himself, the time the creature had vanished into nothing, the entire building had been destroyed. Bodies of those interested in the Slave Trade lay in his wake, blood soaking his form, hair matted with blood and other things, and a gross taste of iron in his mouth because of course, a lightsaber isn't his only weapon. Not with his sole goal of destroy, protect, destroy in his mind.
Agen returns to coruscant after the Order sends healers out to take care of the implants the Slaves had and centers himself. He would not loose control like that again, not unless he could help it.
Kit Fisto, like others before him, was expected to snap as soon as word got to the Council of Oppo's snapping. Kit was an emotional person— that was well known among the Jedi. Though most Nautolans happened to be, perhaps in part of how their tresses functioned. They fed off of the positivity around them, and accepted the anger and rage they felt as well.
Kit was very much the same, a figure who loved and cared deeply for others— Who simply felt deeply for others.
Yoda had warned him of the dangers it had, showing him techniques to curb the instinctual reactions of the Force that swirled inside of him. Cin and Ki-Adi helped ground him when everything started to go awry, the very first time the being inside of him manifested.
Kit Fisto snapping was expected, even by him.
It happened like many of the others. The war was long, the war pushed them to their limit. The Jedi were tired, they were ground down, it was war. The Council had come to a grim realization after Shaak Ti’s snapping that if they did win the War the Jedi had already lost no matter the outcome. By taking up the mantles of Generals, they had lost. But still, they kept pressing, kept protecting, because what else were they supposed to do?
Commander Monnk had known something was up with Wolffe, with Colt, with the platoon that had been with General Rancisis that one time.
He didn't ask about it though. And maybe he should have.
Because Monnk doesn't expect to see absolute stillness from his General as he's trying to staunch the blood from another one of his brother's legs. He doesn't expect to feel the earth rumble as the Separatists approach, doesn't expect to watch as eyes open across his skin only to vanish when Monnk blinks. Monnk doesn't expect to watch his General to tip back off of the cliff into the ocean, doesn't expect the sudden stab of fear that they were being abandoned before the ground trembles again.
The Ocean moves in currents, Monnk knows. He's one of the best SCUBA Troops. He studied the seas across all sorts of planets when he learned he'd be working under a Nautolan.
And he knows the ocean isn't supposed to move like that. Moving that far back, knows that the ocean responds to the weather, not the other way around. Monnk doesn't expect a watery hand to crash down on the Separatists making their way to their cornered company. Doesn't expect to see eyes dark and empty opening up as if the water was just another surface. Because it was always eyes. Monnk thinks he should have asked Colt and Wolffe.
But he didn't because he doesn't expect for a creature made of water and ship wreckages, of bones and torn up plants, to appear when Kit vanished.
He wisely doesn't talk about it. About how when the water crashed back into the sea, taking all of the debris and the Separatists with it, their General had been standing still in front of them again, soaked and silent. He doesn't talk about how much sharper his teeth seemed, or how his nails had sharpened to claws.
The Council aren't the only ones with these manifestations. Not at all. There are a number of Jedi who have them, who are trained specifically not to let them loose. They know the consequences.
Only, it’s a tightly kept secret among those who do, because it’s dangerous, and those who didn’t have this Manifestation would look at those who did differently. Look at them as either Monsters, as Jedi destined to fall and become Sith, or as gods of sort.
And Anakin Skywalker didn't know.
But Cin Drallig did. He knew because he had it too. Kept under a tight lock and key, knowing full well what its true form was. A twisted ugly thing— in his mind at least.
And That's why he was training Bene. Because Bene had it too. She was smart and skilled and centered.
He feels the death of the Councilors in the Force before Skywalker arrives.
There was no water for Kit to fall back on, no focal point for Agen to enter his blood rage, not enough earth and stone for Saesee to become what he needed to. There was no time for Mace to center himself.
Cin felt it.
Cin had always had a strong grip on his center. He never expected to Snap, but in hindsight, he was glad he did.
Bene thinks that Master Drallig doesn't think she knows, but sometimes she catches him late at night prying thorns and stone from his arms as she's getting a glass of water from the 'fresher.
Master Drallig had told her stories of the others with Manifestations. How some Masters had destroyed entire planets full of evil because it had been their focal point. She had listened to him. He had told her that his was dangerous as well, unpredictable and he had learned all seven forms because of it, because practicing the forms had kept himself centered. He hadn't released it in a long time.
But she knew that one day, he would because it would appear across his skin, the evidence was carefully hidden in the wastebin, but she ended up finding it anyways.
She knew one day he would release it, and that she would follow.
And then she felt the Force scream, felt the deaths around her and it had shaken her.
Master Drallig had herded them all to the Room of a Thousand Fountains and told them "Don't look, don't listen" before Skywalker had burst in, full of rage, full of hate and Bene disobeyed her master as the others did as told.
She had watched as her Master dueled Skywalker, watched in horror as he was slashed across the chest, body falling, blood that shouldn’t have been there from a wound made by a Lightsaber arcing— but then she had seen as thorns and flowers grew from the wound, watched as Master's body changed, as sharp stone gathered into clawed feet and hands, as thorns and roses and other flowers bloomed around his body with eyes painted on the petals and lips pulled back impossibly wide in a snarl, but eyes replaced with a crown of flowers and thorns that dug into his skin, tangled into his hair and covered his eyes.
Watched as Skywalker's eyes widened in horror, as the clones faltered their attack, as claws made from thorns and stone plunged into Skywalker's body, tearing it apart.
But Bene knew the power that a manifestation had, and she felt her own force quiver as Master Drallig turned on the Clones, head tilted at an impossible angle before lunging. And she felt her own blood singing, the force pounding in her ears and she moved before her mind caught up, feeling an explosion of wood and bark thrumming just under her skin as she lunged to her Master’s side to protect.
hey idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
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