#awol 2: renegade

[teecupangel]

Just pictured it: Desmond with twelve younglings around his legs and a pair of slings on his chest with the twins inside, carrying a padawan or two under the arm 'cause he's a single dad now and they are all on the run – or at least until Dadsmond can get them all to safety and a responsible, functioning non-Bleed adult in charge while he goes to drive his hidden blade through Palpatine's eye.

And if he ends up acquiring one or several million clones down the road, it's all in the name of the free babysitting service, because we all know that foundlings are the future.

The original "Desmond adopts Jedi Younglings" idea.

So this is now the “Desmond adopts lots of people and they have a flying ‘home’” idea.

For the “Desmond stays in Tython to be a dad” with @fanworldbuildingfun, here’s the link.

Desmond was just trying to find Yoda who was in charge of the younglings in the fucking first place, instead, he has to deal with first upgrading his emergency ship because the last time he tried leaving the younglings in his secret hideout (a planet with coordinates that have been long lost), every youngling joined forces to give him sad puppy eyes and begged him not to leave so he’s left with no choice but to upgrade to a more fortified ship with lots of secret hidey holes and ‘tunnels’.

No.

He was not naming it Monteriggioni 2.

… He was naming it fucking Monteriggioni 2 after he finished adding a smaller emergency ship underneath the main ship now with hologram statues of his Assassin ancestors.

Ugh.

His naming sense was absolutely whacked at this point.

He just couldn’t be normal and named it Aquila…

Or Jackdaw.

Wait.

What was a Jackdaw?

Anyway, during all these upgrading, he got in touch with Obi-Wan to ask for information about Yoda and he gets two newborn twins for his troubles as Obi-Wan swans off to god knows where because of…

Okay, Desmond didn’t know why.

Grief?

Self-imposed punishment?

Lost of hope?

Desmond knew he should look for Obi-Wan and knock some sense into him (probably punch him once or twice, Desmond saw it work… in tv back in his time) but Obi-Wan warned him that the Empire would be looking out for any force-sensitive people to either take in or to kill. Obi-Wan was a danger to Desmond and his children (not his children, charge would be more accurate, no matter what others say) before he swans off to god knows where.

Desmond realized that the children had to ‘stop’ learning the force. At the very least, until he was sure he could upgrade his ship to cloak against any doodah that the Empire had to find force-sensitive people.

How does he do that?

He distracts the kids with games instead, gets a droid to help him take care of them and…

Accidentally build a Brotherhood daycare instead because Desmond’s way of playing is very… stealth and freerun oriented.

Look, he knows it’s weird for the ship to have such high ceilings but he needs them, okay? Can’t do air assassinations if there’s not enough vertical distance, of course.

Oh and the dudes who did his repairs? Clone troopers who went AWOL because of one reason or another. And then the empire learned about them while Desmond was there and… things just sorta happened and now Desmond has a crew of renegade clone troopers?

Who may also be helping take care of the kids?

It’s really a good thing Desmond upgraded his ship.

Along the way, he meets up with a surviving Jedi Master and his Padawan who have… been gathering force-sensitive children as well and Desmond just let them in because he wasn’t heartless. Vanzell Mar-Klar starts training the kids and everybody else in force-related things but he does say Desmond’s kids (not his kids) have become… ‘wild’. Desmond has no idea what that means and Vanzell Mar-Klar seemed a bit wary but mostly just curious so Desmond didn’t really push… for now.

But because there were now force lessons all over the ship, Desmond knew he should upgrade their cloaking system so one of the crew members suggested they go to Bracca as they may find scappers willing to upgrade their ship using parts they have salvaged. They get to Bracca and Desmond notices a young scrapper that just pings gold to him.

And then the Inquisitorius came just as he had been talking to the young scrapper and Desmond thought they were there for them then they attacked the scrapper he was with and…

Well…

Vanzell Mar-Klar definitely looked like Desmond got him the best Christmas present ever even though they left Bracca being chased by the Empire.

Hey.

At least Cal seemed to be just as lost as Desmond right now.

Good to know he isn’t the only poor soul winging it at this point.

#single dad!desmond in his ship the monteriggioni 2 #luke and leia grow up thinking desmond is their dad #they know he isn’t #but they still call him dad #obi-wan swans off because i want desmond to suffer being a single dad #vanzell mar-klar doesn’t count #since he’s more like the inhouse tutor #maybe uncle #i kinda want the renegade clone troopers to be the bad batch #is it obvious i started playing jedi fallen order? #yeah #yeah the first game #i suck by the way #i don’t know if i can even finish this game #jesus christ on a pogo stick #i suck so bad on soul-like games #and my brother thought i would enjoy elden ring??? #and suggested i play demon souls??? #i can't even get to the first real boss of bloodborne

[paigelts05]

[GORE] Night V [FNAF SL, Renegade AU]

Link: https://www.deviantart.com/paigelts05/art/GORE-Night-V-FNAF-SL-Renegade-AU-941499809

Published: Dec 18, 2022

Caution: references to the events of FNAF SL night 5 (hanging, disembowelment, gore).

Just your cannon typical hanging and disembowelment with a not cannon typical technicians surviving.

October 1987.

3 missing technicians.

Only one confirmed dead.

Technician 1 - Oliver Rocha. AWOL.

Technician 2 - Morgan Smith. Missing.

Technician 3 - Eggs Benedict. Deceased.

Technical 3, Eggs Benedict, aka Micheal Afton, who was here to find his lost sister, witnessed two technicians hanging by ropes above the stages of the auditoriums.

Technician 2, Morgan Smith, aka Mike Schmidt, who was here to investigate the MCI incidents and see if what happened in August back in his home state has any connection to the one in the origin state, cut himself down from the rope and rushed to check if anyone else was alive.

Technician 1, Oliver Rocha, the only one known by his real name, heard Egg's screams as the man was disemboweled by the scooper, shortly before being cut loose by Morgan.

Oliver told Morgan what he heard. So the two left before the stage's alarms tripped, casting off their nooses along the way, and escaped to the surface via the elevator.

That night they took refuge at the police station to say what they saw at the sister location and sleeping in the waiting room before traveling back across the country, from the place of Origin location to the site of C location, to return to thier homes.

Some say Morgan vanished on the train. Others say it was when officer Burke saw through the fake name and recognised the son of an ally chief in tackling the Freddy's cases. But in photographs taken in November, at C location's New Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, Morgan can still be seen in the rope burn scars around Mike's neck.

#2022 #fnaf #fnaf sl #fnaf sister location #sister location #fnaf sl technicians #fnaf renegade au #fnaf au #renegade au #artwork #art #renegade au guards #fnaf fanart #mike fnaf #mike schmidt fnaf #fnaf mike schmidt #fnaf mike #mike schmidt #micheal afton #michael afton #fnaf technician #fnaf technicians #tw gore #tw disembowelment #tw hanging #artists on tumblr

[hannagoldworthy]

Renegade 12

(In which the ripple effect caused by the premise of this AU truly starts to affect Coruscant...and several important people there who have not had the chance to join in the 'fun' until now.)

(Warning - a third of this chapter is in Sheev Palpatine's perspective.)

(Also, shoutout to @mercurydancer's delightful pastiche of William Shakespeare, Wither Sententious. I truly do love this wonderful character, you guys have no idea.)

If Sheev Palpatine ever discovered the person whose idea it was to give the collected works of Wither Sententious to the Kashyyyk Planetary Opera, he was going to erase all trace of that person’s existence from the galactic records, rob their grave, and re-intern them on Korriban so that he could give their disembodied spirit a proper taste of his mind. After the headache medication set in, of course, and after he stopped kicking himself for the idea of seeing this show in the first place.

At least the play had fulfilled its purpose by drawing young Skywalker’s attention; the idiot always had a penchant for pointless dramatics, and if the original Shyriiwook translation of Romeo and Julietstaged by singing Wookiees in tights was anything, it was dramatic. “Snips is gonna love this,” he murmured as an unholy cacophony went up around the death of Mercutio. “She’s been a little quiet, lately; this should cheer her up.”

“…It’s a tragedy.”

“A comic tragedy about two stupid kids who…yeah, you’re right, that might hit a little close to home for her right now,” Skywalker conceded with a pout. “Maybe they’ll do King Leer next season.”

“Ah. Still stuck on the Bonteri boy, is she?”

“That’s not…well, she is, but she’s starting to get over the little brat, praise the suns. No, uh, her best friend recently left the Order, and there are some…hard feelings over the thing, so…”

Sheev blinked. “Wait, who was this who left?”

Skywalker blanched. “You don’t know? I mean, we aren’t sharing it with the press, but I thought the Council would have informed you at least…”

Smooth as shimmersilk, the hapless child provided him with another wedge to drive between himself and the Jedi; all Sheev had to do was lean a little weight on it. “Well, if the information in question isn’t relevant to the war effort or my personal security, the Council doesn’t strictly need to tell me anything.”

“It is relevant. Stars, why wouldn’t they…?” Skywalker rolled his eyes, shook his head, and seemed to brace himself. “You remember working with Master Luminara Unduli and her Padawan in the past, right?”

“Of course! Lovely, talented woman. And her apprentice was quiet but cheerful, sometimes studied while we worked. What was the girl’s name, Eris?”

“Barriss Offee. She and Snips were always talking, up until she ran away with the Sith Lord who killed Master Qui-Gon Jinn on Naboo.”

…If there was a way to gently receive the…unexpected news of his first apprentice’s unlikely survival…this was not it. He stared mutely at his companion, trying to marshal the dozens of questions that popped up in his head while keeping the Sidious persona clamped well down in his chest before the Jedi could sense anything Dark about his panic.

Skywalker huffed a mirthless, soundless laugh at the expression on his face. “Yeah, that was my reaction too.”

“Darth…what was his name again?”

“Maul.”

“Maul,” Palpatine licked his dry lips, settling into the honest astonishment he felt. He could be angry later, when Skywalker was not within manipulating distance. “I thought your Master Kenobi cut him in half.” Kenobi had had one task Sidious could have trusted him with, one, and he’d still managed to fail somehow!

“He did. The sleemo just, refused to actually die.”

Sidious supposed that sort of intractability was what came of trying to breed the perfect apprentice on Dathomir; he’d been a fool to think that Talzin could produce anything disposable enough for his purposes. “And he’s managed to seduce young Offee to his cause?”

“Emphasis on seduce. Poor Ahsoka got an eyeful of them in, uh, ‘the heat of passion.’” Skywalker shuddered visibly.

“Padawan Offee?” Palpatine barely knew the girl, but from what he’d sensed of her previously, he’d judged her to be a fairly accurate replica of her Master: reasonably intelligent, in a dull, bland, and passionless sort of way. He’d never have thought her capable of even imagining minor ambition, much less of rebellion on this scale.

“I know, right? Like, honestly, what does she see in him?”

Palpatine sighed. “Well, it’s not uncommon amongst young women of her age for older, more experienced men to win their affections by…flattering them, making them feel more important and accomplished than they do in their current role. Much like how that nincompoop Clovis managed to gain Senator Amidala’s good graces…”

Never let it be said that Sidious did not know exactlywhen to twist any particular knife. Skywalker’s face darkened, and he glared banefully at the box directly across from theirs, where Clovis and Amidala seemed engaged in a discussion concerning the translation booklets provided by the operatic troupe with the programs. “Flattery is ephemeral,” the boy said dismissively, “Clovis and Senator Amidala have parted ways twice before because of that, and their relationship lacks depth even now. Not to mention,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair and stretching his long legs as far as politeness allowed, “Darth Maul is not exactly what you’d call a charmer.”

Palpatine smiled conspiratorially. “Bit of a thug?”

The young Jedi rolled his eyes. “The man is two shades shy of an animal. I wouldn’t be surprised if he speaks only in grunts and growls.”

If only that had been true; Sidious had tried and failed to train the mind right out of Maul’s stubborn head, because a brainless assassin would have availed him more than the bookish, pathetic ingrate who groveled at the slightest sign of positive reinforcement. In fact, that probably explained his former apprentice’s attraction to plain, boringBarriss Offee; a trained healer who kissed Maul’s boo-boos and coddled his weaker emotions would have proven irresistible to the little sap. But, what could have possibly swayed such a staid, solid, typical Jedi Knight into eloping with his miserable failure of a Sith Apprentice?

“Perhaps she pities him,” he responded to Skywalker at last.

Skywalker shook his head. “If she did, she’s fallen further than I suspected. Maul will repay her foolish attachment with pain and regret; it will destroy her.”

It was one of Sidious’s subtle joys in life to watch young Skywalker blither on in this fashion, blissfully unaware of the many ironies of his own platitudes. Sadly, on this occasion, he hadn’t the presence of mind to savor it; loath as he was to admit it, Sidious was taken off his guard, and he was going to have to hustleif he wanted any chance of twisting this series of events to favor his goals.

“So…off the record…when and where was this ‘Maul’ person last seen?” he asked, aiming strictly for a tone of casual curiosity. “And has the Council any idea on his current plan of action?”

“He barely escaped our grasp during the Mirial campaign, and due to an unfortunately timed systems malfunction, my tech guys were not able to track him. As for where he is now, I haven’t the slightest clue.”

“Could he be…out for revenge against Master Kenobi, for wounding him? Isn’t that what these Sith ruffians prattle on about, revenge?”

“Yes, but he missed several very good chances for that revenge when Obi-Wan and I were chasing him throughout the Outer Rim. So, either he’s filled that void with something, or someone, else…”

Palpatine snickered at the sheer disgust writ across Skywalker’s face. “Doubtful.”

“…or, he’s waiting for the right moment, when his revenge on Obi-Wan will be total.” Worry flickered in the young Jedi’s fiery blue eyes. “And that’s what worries me most.”

***

“A credit chip for your thoughts, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan paused in his contemplation of the Coruscant lights, affording his late-night visitor as soft a smile as he could manage under the circumstances. “A credit chip is not enough, Master Unduli. I’m afraid I might need one of your famous pots of herbal tea.”

She glanced over at his small kitchen, where a pot began to whistle as if on cue.

“Dear me, how long have you been here?”

“Long enough to know that you are needlessly beating up on yourself, again,” Luminara chided gently, settling into one of his chairs, the teapot floating over to rest on his coffee table, the tea steeper following a minute later, filled with an aromatic herbal blend which supposedly promoted sleep. “I watched the recording, Obi-Wan. When you heard that Barriss had married Darth Maul, your first reaction was…positive.”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what I was thinking…”

“You said, and I quote, ‘Aw!’”

“I was sleep-deprived.”

“And now you’re not?”

Obi-Wan glared. “Is there a point to this lecture, Luminara, or are you just trying to make me uncomfortable?”

The Mirialan woman smiled, waving her hand to Forcefully cool the boiling water in the pot just enough that it did not scald the tea leaves. “You have castigated yourself over the fight on Naboo for more than twelve years, Obi-Wan. Maul was trying to kill you, had killed your Master in front of you, and you defended yourself at the expense of your attacker’s life.”

He sighed, slouching into the seat across from where his friend gently stirred the tea. “I should have aimed for his neck.”

“He would probably have found a way to survive even that, I think.”

“Luminara, you don’t understand…I wanted him to suffer, as he’d forced Qui-Gon to suffer. I regretted the feeling the moment I cut him in half, but still…it wasn’t the Jedi way. This is the Force’s punishment for choosing vengeance as I did.”

She did not meet his eyes, pouring two cups of tea, mixing cream and sugar with his as usual, while keeping hers plain. “As I was given to understand, Maul had you hanging over a garbage shaft and was trying to force you to fall. If you had not defended yourself, you would have died.”

“I would have fallen down the shaft, whole, and found a way to land safely.”

“Which would have left Maul alone to wreak whatsoever chaos he wished, extending to killing Queen Amidala, or perhaps even young Anakin,” she passed him his cup with the Force, the warmth alighting in his outstretched hand like a tiny bird. “That was not a choice you could afford to make. You had to do something, and so you fought back. Any vengeance you reached for was tangential to that, and gone in the heat of the moment…replaced by pity, and, possibly, compassion.”

Obi-Wan smiled wryly. “Masters Yoda and Windu have both said about as much…if only I could believe it.”

Luminara shrugged. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I have reason to be grateful for the choice you made.” She brought her own cup to her lips, taking a long, meditative sip before continuing. “As you know, my culture is quite entwined with the Force; Master Myr used to say that there are two nexi which converge on Mirial, and manifest as the beings which came to be known as our chief gods. You have had experience with similar mystical beings, have you not?”

Obi-Wan shuddered to remember Mortis. “Not very pleasant experience, I’m afraid.”

“Pleasant, unpleasant, we aren’t discussing drapery colors, Obi-Wan, we are discussing family. Because my gods have taken such personal involvement in my culture that they are family, Jedi or no.” Luminara set her tea on the table. “And Barriss has informed me that she has received the marks indicating that the gods have blessed her union with her husband,” she said, significantly indicating the diamonds patterning her chin and lower lip.

He frowned, slightly. “So…you’re not worried that your Padawan is consorting with a violent Sith Apprentice?”

“Oh, I’m worried, but not about him. I trust the word of my gods, and what’s more, I trust Barriss’s judgment, and both say that Maul is, shockingly, a decent match for her.” She reclaimed her tea, absently blowing away a puff of steam. “But, her dramatic exit from the war and from the Order has opened my eyes to…several problems, problems that need fixing. And I believe, for now, that I am in a better position to help mend those issues than Barriss was…than I was, until a few months ago. And for one of those, I think I am going to require your help.”

“…Do tell?”

Luminara’s eyes twinkled over her teacup, and a small hologram projector materialized from a pocket in the folds of her dress, resting upon the coffee table in front of him. “Until she was called to the front lines on a more permanent basis, Barriss was involved in a clinical trial testing the medical capabilities of nano-droids. It was, by all accounts, a resounding success, and she was therefore able to use the droids to clone Darth Maul’s lower half in the early days of their acquaintance. And after that, she bartered her knowledge of the nano-droids’ locations with an old associate of mine in order to get out of being turned in for a bounty. That associate has told her friends, and they’ve been raiding labs all over the Republic to cash in on the new technology.”

“Which is interesting, I’ll admit. But why, specifically, did you come to me? I dabble in science, yes, but this sort of technology is well above my head and you know it.”

“Because one of my associate’s friends should be fairly familiar to you, I dare say.”

The holoprojector flipped on, revealing security footage of a tall, pale woman in a wig and concealing clothes, who walked with a predatory sort of grace which reminded him of…

“Asajj Ventress is alive?”

***

One moment, Yoda sat upon his cushion, squeezing in a late meditation before his aging body demanded he sleep for the night.

The next, he startled awake to find himself on a rock in the midst of a sea of amber grass, far, far away from the oily darkness of Coruscant. An iridescent blue butterfly with wings the size of his own ears rested upon his knee, gazing innocently up at him.

“Hmm…a little too pretty to eat, you are,” he grumbled. “A name, have you?”

The insect politely washed its face, blinked twice, and, with all the guileless charm of a tiny youngling, uttered a single word.

“KARK.”

Laughter rang out so loudly across the savannah that the small butterfly took offense, and flew off toward the nearest tree. Perplexed, Yoda glanced about him to search out the source of the sound; he hadn’t long to look, as a figure in black approached from several meters in front of him.

“It never gets old,” said a voice that he had not heard in centuries. “It’s good to see you, my old friend.”

“Say the same, I wish I could,” Yoda replied smoothly, eying the man carefully as he approached. “But a controversial figure, Nilam of Kailash has become.”

The Mirialan man, clad in robes of dark rangiferiniwool and a sapphire-blue turban as he had preferred to do in life, smiled broadly. “Ah, so you have finally learned caution! I’m sure that the twenty Masters you went through growing up are relieved; it only took two hundred years to drill those lessons into your head.”

“Ten Masters I had, and well you know that,” Yoda groused. “And belongs entirely to you, the credit for my caution; read your books after you left, I did.”

Nilam cupped his bearded chin with the delicately-marked fingers of his right hand which indicated his status as an author. “Did you, now? And what did you think of them?”

“Hand it to you, I must. The most thorough defense of the concept of ‘gray Jedi’ I have ever encountered, they were…and the public’s main introduction to the idea of ‘gray Sith,’ as well.”

“But?”

“But they were complete bosh.” Yoda smirked. “With all due respect meant, of course.”

Nilam snorted, and then began to laugh outright, slapping his leg and howling for a good five seconds and startling every recording butterfly within the range of about a half-klik. “Ye gods,” he muttered at last, wiping at his eye with one sleeve. “It’s moments like this which make me regret leaving the Order; nowhere else could I get such refreshingly honestfeedback.”

“Not even with that lovely wife of yours?” Yoda frowned. “Seemed very intelligent, she did, and she cared for you a great deal; wore mourning colors for the rest of her life she did, after you died.”

“She wore black for the rest of her life, old friend,” Nilam replied, sobering almost instantly. “You and I both know very well that there are multiple reasons for that sort of statement.”

The Master of the Order felt his ears pin against his head, almost against his will. “What have you come to me for, Nilam?” he asked, hiding the quaver in his voice with an effort. “Six and a half centuries too late it is for a simple social call.”

The long-dead ex-Jedi sighed. “Six and a half centuries, you’ve mused over the bust of my face in the Archives. For most of those years, you’ve wondered why I left, but for the past decade, you’ve studied my work, examined the biographies of my life, and wondered how you could have missed the obvious influence of the Line of Bane in my philosophies.”

Yoda closed his eyes. “So it is true; a Sith Lord, you are.” He had hoped that the friend who had had his braid cut at the same time he did had simply been a misled academic; the confirmation struck him clear to the very center of his soul.

“A Sith Lord I was, young Padawan Yoda. I think you know as well as anyone how well my teachings of…radical centrism were accepted…even by an apprentice who loved me with all her soul.”

“…Sinya killed you?” Yoda had never met Nilam’s wife, a beautiful Twi’lek woman with orange skin and vibrant brown eyes, but with the way she had always looked at her husband, adoration writ large on her face, he’d never thought her capable…

“The Sith have a different way of eliminating attachment, old friend. Sinya…Darth Gean, as she is known in our histories…put me aside, for the sake of our Line. It was shewho continued Bane’s teachings, not my nephew, who inherited my publishing company but not my Force sensitivity.”

“Tracing the wrong lineage of apprentices, I have been,” Yoda breathed, aching at the sheer amount of research that had gone to waste. “…Watching me, you have been.”

Nilam solemnly nodded. “Helping, where I could.”

“Helping?” It was a near thing, keeping his hands from going to Nilam’s throat. “Helping? Talk to me in this way you could have long ago! Tell me exactlywho the current Sith Master is, you still can!”

“Yes! I could! And you could take the information and arrest, or kill, whomever that Sith Master is, on my word alone! How do you think the galaxy would interpret that, Yoda? A supposedly wise Jedi Master following the orders of some crackpot from centuries ago whom he saw in an unverifiable vision? You would be burned at stake in the press, possibly even literally, to say nothing of your inevitable execution.”

“At this point, a sacrifice I am willing to make, that is.”

“But it wouldn’t just be you, and you know that perfectly well.”

Yoda spared a couple of breaths to glare at Nilam as hard as he possibly could, before he released the anger to focus on more useful endeavors. “Right you are; punished the entire Order would be for my actions. Able to demonstrate my process to non-Force-sensitive Senators, I must be.”

“It’s the only way.” Nilam placed a comforting hand on Yoda’s shoulder. “And, for the record, I haven’t been able to talk to you in this way until just recently. I’ve needed a few conversations with another old friend of yours to learn the technique.”

Yoda reluctantly leaned away from his touch. “Died a Sith Lord, you did. Why are you helping us now?”

“I died in the Light, old friend; trying to stabilize a Line that did not want it.” Nilam got to his feet, and extended a hand to Yoda in a wordless offer to help him do the same. “The Sith did not listen, but you will. You always have. And I was a fool not to see that in life.”

He hesitated a moment, before he placed his hand in Nilam’s. “Hope you are not taking advantage of my trust, I do.”

Nilam grinned, and tugged. And Yoda found himself standing once more in his rooms on Coruscant, the clean scent of the savannah still clinging to his nostrils.

A minute later, he had retrieved his hoverchair and sped over to young Master Nu’s quarters, hammering on her door with his gimmer stick. The head Temple Archivist answered with her hair down, dressed in pajamas and a pink dressing gown.

“Late, I know it is, Jocasta. But a revelation I have had; access our records of Sith artifacts, I must.”

(One last author's note: since it has been so dreadfully long since I last posted something in this AU, I don't want to force anyone new through a long archive trawl. The Ao3 page for this is here, if you need to catch up.)

#star wars #the clone wars #canon divergence #awol au #awol 2: renegade #otp: mauliss #main characters are discussed but do not appear #sheev palpatine #darth sidious is his own warning #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #luminara unduli #yoda #darth gravid freeform #nilam of kailash my beloved blorbo #lots of talking about the plot in this chapter #some things needed to be set up #also I would prefer never to have to see the inside of darth hideous's brain ever again #but with the way this is going I don't think I'm going to get what I want #also it was Wit's idea to give his work to the Wookiees #He loved it #he also got to stick around a lot longer in this version than he did in mercurydancer's fics #So we have the complete works of Wit Sententious even if he didn't get to free his people in the end

[chicagoindiecritics]

New from Jeff York on The Establishing Shot: JEFF YORK’S PICKS FOR THE 10 BEST FILMS OF 2019

Original caricature by Jeff York of the cast of PARASITE (copyright 2019)

The latter half of this year was so chock full of excellent films, I knew I’d have a difficult time narrowing my best of the year to a mere ten choices. Among the movies I loved that just missed the top were FORD V. FERRARI, THE TWO POPES, GWEN, DOLEMITE IS MY NAME, THE FURNACE, OPHELIA, TOY STORY 4, HAIL SATAN, THE REPORT, and LITTLE WOMEN. If I did a top 20, they’d be on it.

So, what did make my top 10? Here are my picks for the best films this year:

1.) PARASITE Directed by Bong Joon Ho Written by Bong Joon Ho and Jin Won Han It’s great to see this Korean movie getting all the accolades it’s racking up. Rare is a foreign film that gets so much buzz. PARASITE is practically a shoo-in for Best Foreign Film and might just give plenty of American films this year a run for their money as Best Picture at the Oscars. (I’m talking to you, Quentin and Marty!) Bong’s masterpiece works best if you know little going into the cineplex to see it. I’ll simply say that the plot concerns a Korean family of four conning their way into working for a rich family of four and the film’s title comes from how both groups feed off the hospitality of each other. This dark comedy skewers caste systems and economic injustice, yet remains a fiendishly witty entertainment with some of the best camerawork, production design, and ensemble acting of the last decade. I’ve seen it three times and want to see it again. It’s that incredible.

2.) PAIN AND GLORY Written and directed by Pedro Almodovar Pedro Almodovar has been making classic films about the human condition for over four decades, and PAIN AND GLORY represents all that has gone before while hinting at a mellower filmmaker looking to the future. Almodovar has always been emotional and big, with colorful sets, twisty plots, and outrageous characters. Much of that is still here, but it’s a mellower work. The aging movie director at the center of the story (Antonio Banderas, never better), representing Almodovar undoubtedly, feels less anger about the past and more hope for the future. It’s a moving meditation on aging, one that made me tear up in sadness, but also in joy.

3.) BOOKSMART Directed by Olivia Wilde Written by Emily Halperin, Sarah Haskins, Susanna Fogel, and Katie Silberman For me, the biggest surprise of the year was BOOKSMART, an incredible coming-of-age film that eschews several teen movie clichés in favor of smarter truths and more genuine laughs. Molly (Beanie Feldstein) and Amy (Kaitlyn Dever) are two seniors about to graduate who’ve been responsible, stay-in-their-lane types the whole time. On graduation eve, they decide to act out of character and attend a raucous party. Of course, craziness follows them throughout the evening, but while the set-pieces are hilarious, it’s the bonding between the girls that sticks with you. And how nice to see a teen comedy where the female leads didn’t need boyfriends or get punished severely for their mishaps. They’re too smart to let that happen, and so is this movie.

4.) MARRIAGE STORY Written and directed by Noah Baumbach If anything, Baumbach’s stunning character study should’ve been entitled DIVORCE STORY. That’s the crux of the film as two good people find that they’re no longer good together and must start anew. Charlie (Adam Driver, incredible) and Nicole (Scarlett Johansson, almost as good) are an experimental theater director and his star. How fitting that the arcs that each will go through in this drama will require constant improvisation. The New Yorker Charlie, used to being in control, must learn to let others run the show. Nicole relishes being out from under her ex, but he’ll always be in her life nonetheless as the father of her son. Even with vicious divorce lawyers doing their best to make things ugly, the film manages to stay positive, finding sympathy for both parties and hoping they each find a better path.

5.) KNIVES OUT Written and directed by Rian Johnson Rian Johnson is a filmmaker who likes to usurp genre and formula. He set his detective noir BRICK in a high school and twisted the STAR WARS formula into the unpredictable THE LAST JEDI. In KNIVES OUT, Johnson riffs on Agatha Christie’s style of drawing-room whodunnits, all-star casts, and an eccentric detective solving the puzzle. It’s a clever mystery, but also a hilarious satire of one. Daniel Craig was loose as a goose playing southerner PI Benoit Blanc while big names played the vicious offspring of their rich, dead patriarch (Christopher Plummer, unmatched in playing salty, yet sophisticated seniors.) It’s no small feat making a movie like this work and Johnson’s crowd-pleaser may have just been the most satisfying studio film of the year.

6.) PORTRAIT OF A LADY ON FIRE French filmmaker Celine Sciamma’s love story is as much about art as it is about a painter and subject becoming lovers. Marianne (Noemi Merlant) is tasked with painting the mercurial Heloise (Adele Haenel) for her wedding portrait in an arranged marriage. Their wariness of each other turns into bonding over art, free-thinking, and zigging when the world would have you zag. It also portrays the difficulty of truly seeing what’s standing in front of you, whether it’s a subject to paint or a person to understand. Sciammna takes her time, letting the pot slowly boil, but when it does, look out! She also does amazingly clever things with the camera, escalating its movement as the women become more and more passionate together.

7.) 1917 Directed by Sam Mendes Written by Sam Mendes and Krysty Wilson-Cairns War films are inherently dramatic with the stakes being life and death. This film dials up that trope by having two men tasked with having to save thousands. British forces during WWI get intel that warns them of a regimen about to walk into a German trap. Two young lance corporals (George MacKay and Dean-Charles Chapman) are given the horrible task of running on foot across enemy lines to get the new orders to the 1600 troops. The race begins, with the camera accompanying them every step of the journey, shot to be perceived as one, uninterrupted shot. (All the more to make it seem scarily real, natch.) It’s a nail-biter, to say the least, as we are right next to them through bushes, streams and cannon fire. War is hell, sure, as this film proves, but it can also make for one incredibly exhilarating and unique experience in the cinema.

8.) THE FAREWELL Written and directed by Lulu Wang In a year of so many superb films put forth by female directors, Wang’s autobiographical one is a clear standout. In her story, a Chinese-American family learns their grandmother only has a short time left to live. They decide not to tell her the bad news. Instead, they concoct a fake family wedding to gather everyone together for one big celebration – – before she dies. What could go wrong? Their well-intentioned scheme generates daft shenanigans, some of the funniest farce on film this year. As the family can barely keep track of their lies, and blunder through awful toasts at the wedding, Grandmother starts to put two and two together. Few films can juxtapose laughs against tears so successfully, but Wang’s did, and her triumph ended up being the feel-good film of 2019.

9.) I LOST MY BODY Directed by Jeremy Clapin Written by Jeremy Clapin and Guillaume Laurant How’s this for a weird animated movie pitch? A disembodied hand searches for its former owner, and in turn, discovers the complicated and tragic life of the man it was attached to. Indeed, that’s the premise of this adult-themed gem from French filmmaker Clapin. The stark illustration style, the haunting music, the expressive voices of Dev Patel and Ala Shawkat for the American translation – it all made for an eerie ride through a TWILIGHT ZONE-ish tale of painful memories. Available right now on Netflix, it’s absurdist, violent, scary, romantic, and never less than mesmerizing.

10.) AD ASTRA What is it with space exploration and family issues? GRAVITY and INTERSTELLAR both had astronaut protagonists tortured by losing family members. So does AD ASTRA as its astronaut (Brad Pitt) is sent out to retrieve a renegade father (Tommy Lee Jones) gone AWOL on the outskirts of the galaxy. As he journeys, Pitt’s military man discovers a great deal about the dad he never knew and gains insights into his own failures back on Earth. Most surprisingly, he learns how readily duty can get compromised by politics and corruption, even NASA. It’s a haunting tale, writ large on the big screen where the scale was ginormous, as were the regrets of the main character.

If you want to read the original reviews of my selections, just look for them here in the archives of The Establishing Shot, or at Creative Screenwriting magazine online where I’m the film critic.

from The Establishing Shot https://ift.tt/37oSdD7 via IFTTT

from WordPress https://ift.tt/2SFJIiL via IFTTT

#IFTTT #WordPress #CIFCC #film critics #movies #film #Chicago

[hannagoldworthy]

Renegade 11

(Translation note: "Stuka Crispo" means "Death Watch" in Huttese, and I have absolutely no idea what Jabba says in the palace scene in canon, so I tried to paraphrase what it sounded like he meant. Also, Jabba the Hutt truly does deserve the epithet 'vile'; I tried to keep him PG-13, but he's still fairly disgusting. And Maul's having an existential crisis; I think he's doing fairly well with managing it, considering his upbringing, but there's still probably some things that might be disturbing in his inner monologue.)

When the ground beneath their tails shuddered under the impact of laser-cannon fire, Jabba was almost relieved for the interruption. Gorga, his esteemed nephew, was a smart lad, but a dull conversationalist; Jabba had only managed to distract the boy from simpering over his, exuberant, lady-love by asking how Oruba’s conveniently timed death would affect the Council coffers. And that had started a long information dump about inheritance law, the various tax laws they would have to ‘waive’ by striking from the books, and mathematics; Jabba had been close to dissociating completely before the attackers made themselves known.

Gorga, however, looked a bit nervous. “Uncle, we should flee. I have a skiff ready and waiting.”

Jabba scoffed. “If they are genuinely out to kill us, they’re stupider than I thought.”

“They’re Mandalorians, Uncle!”

“Not all Mandalorians are half-wits, my boy. Sit back, relax, and watch a master at work.”

“But-”

Shots rang out in the hallway that led to the throne room, quieting Gorga’s concerns. In a few moments, the three representatives Death Watch had sent to threaten the Council had killed the Gamorrean guards. No great loss there; Gamorreans bred at an exponential rate and Jabba had to dispose of a certain quota of guards per month to prevent them from cannibalizing each other and passing prion diseases in his ranks. Still, the casual disregard for Hutt property shown by the Stuka Crispo leader and his Zabrak bodyguards grated, and Jabba was eagerly anticipating the day when it would be profitable to salt their disrespectful feet. But, for now, it paid to be polite.

“Can I help you with something, gentlemen?”

“Give up, Jabba, you’re the only ones left,” opined the head Mandalorian.

Jabba fought back the urge to roll his eyes. Marlo was the grandparent of Gorga’s beloved Anachro; if he had really died, they’d have had the news via an hour’s worth of pathetic, incomprehensible weeping by now. And Arok was safe on Falleen, helping his unfortunately disfigured son Durga try for one of the vacant spots as Vigo of the Black Sun. This little upstart had absolutely no idea just how small a town the galactic underworld really was, or that Jabba knew every little bit of trouble Stuka Crispo had caused over the course of the past three weeks. But he did know that they had only killed one member of the Hutt Council, and he had the nerve to lie to Jabba’s face, in Basic. Typical Mandalorian idiocy; Jabba would eat him whole for the offense if he wasn’t still carefully monitoring his diet to better nurse Rotta.

Dismissing the human man as a loss, he glanced over to the crimson Zabrak who’d been doing most of the talking before the Council. The lightsaber designated him as a Force-user, which explained quite a few stories that had circulated over the years; Jabba had heard tell, mostly from his associates’ whining, of underworld dispersals, destroyed assassin academies, and imploded fighting rings, all featuring the first red-skinned Zabrak to be seen in two hundred years. There was no question that this was the same person who was the central figure of those tales, though Jabba had thought he would be nearing forty by now, if he was still alive; this young man, this boy, really, didn’t even look to be on the wrong side of thirty, though of course humanoid ages could be difficult to accurately guess. It truly was a pity that he wasn’t as, impressionable, as most escaped Dathomirians tended to be…with his uncommon coloration, Jabba could have put him to very good use amongst the equally rare and equally beautiful humanoid women of his harem…

The Zabrak sneered as if he’d scented something foul. “Submit, or suffer,” he growled.

Fearlessness and invention; those were the qualities that had won Jabba the place he had now, because those were the qualities that made one the most dangerous in the Outer Rim. He would not have kept his position for this long if he never learned to recognize them in lesser beings. And this young Zabrak, who threatened the Head of the Hutt Council and the Heir Apparent of the Desilijic Kajidic to his face and who had engineered the fall of the greater part of the underworld into his lovely hands, was certainly amongst the most dangerous people who had crossed Jabba’s trail in seven centuries. Jabba found himself laughing; he could grow to like working with someone who presented this much of a challenge. And, if he played his cards right, this venture could eliminate a few more of his silent rivals in a way that would leave Jabba essentially blameless in their deaths.

“Very well. I, and by extension the Hutt Families, agree to support your cause.”

***

Always remember, I am filth.

The vow was one of several which Maul had once sworn regularly; if one freely embraced the fact that one was fear, hunter, filth, nothing, it broke the shackles of guilt and of insult, allowing the Sith Lord to operate in the grime and the crime that their role entailed. And obviously, Maul had fallen out of the habit, for his very being had recoiled from the greed and the lust in Jabba the Hutt’s mind. He’d known full well that the phenotype which made his skin red made him prized as a pleasure slave; the idea that Jabba had hoped to make him a stud in his royal harem should not have been a terrible shock. And yet, it was. Somehow, Maul, former son of Dathomir, disgraced and dismembered Sith Apprentice, eldritch horror of the refuse heaps of Lotho Minor, had got it into his head that his body deserved more respect than the highest lord of the Hutts could manage, and he wasn’t sure how…

He lay on his stomach after a long hunt, hovering pleasantly between sleep and wakefulness; gentle fingers trailed idly over his bare skin, their comparative coolness a balm against the growing heat of the mid-morning Maridun sun. “You have a big heart,” a feminine voice murmured tenderly.

“Lies and slander,” he grumbled perfunctorily. “Who told you that? They were mistaken.”

“I’m talking about the pattern on your back, silly,” Barriss chuckled. “Savage, doesn’t it look like a red, stylized heart? Like the shape on my belt?”

“Don’t involve me in this, I’m asleep,” Savage replied from the large spot on the bed he had claimed for a nap.

“The shapes do look a little similar,” Feral put in a second later. “What do you think, Merrin?”

“Aaawww! You match! That’s so cute!”

“Cute?”

“He even has little diamonds like you, right there at the bottom of the, uh, ‘heart’!” Merrin chirped. “Does that mean something on Mirial?”

“What does it mean on Dathomir?”

“I…don’t know. It was a process sacred to the gods; Ily-others, might have been able to tell you.” The girl was silent for a moment, but seemed determined to make the moment pass quickly. “What might it mean on Mirial?”

“Hmmm,” Barriss thoughtfully ran the back of her hand against his shoulder blade, her presence quietly smug when he sighed contentedly at her touch. “It’s a bit abstract for a Mirial pattern, but…the diamonds on the lower back would indicate discipline, and anything on the shoulders, strength. And a large symbol for compassion or romantic love, splayed across the back where no one but his family will see it, is the mark of someone who cares about people a very great deal more than he allows himself to show.”

Maul opened one eye to glare playfully at her. “You’re making that up.”

“Sounds apt to me, Brother.”

“I thought you were asleep?”

“I do my best thinking in my sleep.”

“Well I like it!” Merrin pouted. “We might as well make up meanings for our marks, since no one else is here to tell us about them.”

“True,” Feral replied. “And your marks mean loud, angry, and annoying. There, I’ve declared it.”

“That is a compliment coming from you…”

“Between the Hutts, Black Sun, and the Pykes we’ll have a large reserve of muscle and supplies.”

Maul nearly twitched as he was rudely pulled from his reverie. “Yes.”

“Then Mandalore and Kenobi are still our priorities?”

In a trice, Maul’s musings had gone from the memory of his siblings’ laughter to the cold hatred in a Fallen Jedi’s eyes he’d glimpsed during his defeat on Naboo; a phantom pain sliced across his abdomen, halting the reminiscent comfort of his wife’s palm. “They are vital.” No happiness could remain while Kenobi lived, if even his name triggered this sort of ache.

“I’m curious to hear the rest of your plan,” Viszla continued nonchalantly.

Fighting back the recurrent flashback, Maul took a second to examine his ally’s thoughts. “The vision has expanded,” he said, which was a delaying phrase to keep the conversation alive while he decided what foot to step on with Viszla. Had it not been for the overheard conversation concerning Barriss, Maul might have thought Viszla was warming up to the idea of a true partnership between them, and tested the waters just to be sure of the Mandalorian’s intentions. But, that sort of test was no longer necessary; he knew the betrayal was coming, and had only to pretend he did not in order to deceive Viszla. “You will rule Mandalore, as agreed; my family and I will leave once I have what I want from Kenobi.”

“And what will happen with all of these crime syndicates? I doubt they will disappear into thin air once I am Mand’alor.”

“We will safeguard your interests and supply Mandalore with more efficiency than the Duchess’s trade agreements have managed.”

“I’m reluctant to have black marketeers supply my people.”

Maul raised an eyebrow. “And yet, you have no qualms robbing black marketeers for fresh fruit and luxury items.”

Viszla blinked. “You know about that?”

Good Force this man was naïve. “Stealing from smugglers is a clever tactic, Lord Viszla; the recipients of the goods cannot report the missed deliveries to proper authorities without incurring punishment, and should armed enforcers be sent to investigate, the smugglers sustain the penalty rather than you.” It was one of the oldest tricks on record, and also a sure path to the bad graces of most organizations; Viszla was lucky that the Trade Federation, in this case, had more important people to kill. “This way, however, the robberies can be…arranged, so that there’s more oversight on the quality of goods and no tragic poisonings of children can occur.”

The Mandalorian frowned. “And what do you get out of it?”

Maul smiled. “The return of our ship, and a quiet planet in Mandalorian space where my family can stay without drawing the attention of either the Republic or the Confederacy.”

“…That’s it?”

“Well, the planet needs to have good holo-reception so I can remain in touch with our allies, but other than that…”

“You just want to retire?”

“More than anything in this life.” It was a lie; Maul knew he was meant for much more, and ruling the galactic underworld was only the start of his ambition. And yet…

“I don’t suppose I can blame you for that,” Viszla said with a wistful grin, clapping Maul on the shoulder. “Let’s get this done; then we can both live out our dreams.” He nodded in farewell, and set off to where Kryze was waiting for him.

Maul let him go, and walked toward the nearest Warbird, away from the smothering heap of refuse and vice that was Jabba’s palace. When the air was free and fresh enough that he could breathe without imagining the Hutt’s lascivious eyes over every exposed centimeter of his body, he stopped, and tried to collect the scattered remains of his thoughts.

He wanted more than the life he had been given, more than whatever riches Viszla could promise, and certainly more than the fearful life as Jabba’s decorative pet. And yet, he was fear, filth, nothing, and deserved only what he hunted and caught for himself. This was the creed that had brought him up; these were the words he’d lived by, that paradox of desiring what was above his station and dragging what he wanted down to his level if needs must.

But he was not fear to Merrin, who knew she could tease and annoy him without repercussion. He was not a hunter to Feral, who laughed at Maul’s technique and without judgment taught him Nightbrother formations to use against larger animals. He was not filth to Barriss, who touched him with respect and beheld him with a reverence he could never even begin to fathom. He was not nothing to Savage, who without even knowing him had risked his life, health, and freedom to find Maul in the garbage and painstakingly nurture him back to some semblance of health.

With his family, he was…valuable, for more than just his body or his martial prowess or his skill at handling criminal connections. He was no longer accustomed to being used, so much so that even the idea of being treated like an object was beginning to personally affront him, both with Death Watch and with Jabba.

What was happening to him?

***

“He’s setting up a crime syndicate, and wants us to give him and his family safe harbor so he can administer it from the comfort of home.”

Bo gawped at Pre. “And he just…admitted this to you?”

“Oh yeah. The man is a soft touch. Getting him out of the way should be easy.”

***

Lightsaber deflection practice was going very well, at least by what Feral could tell. The Magpies, Kast’s personal squad of commandoes, had started out going easy on him, telling him where they were going to shoot stun bolts so he could prepare. Barriss had offered him a few discreet pointers at mealtimes, and they’d worked like a charm; by day three, the Magpies had fired at will with the stun bolts, since he was responding and blocking fast enough. On day five, they used the same warning system with live fire as they had with the stun bolts; on day seven, they found him some spare armor and fired at will, and he only got hit twice. He was hoping, today, that they’d start to teach him some of the hand-to-hand combat using the armor…maybe even touch upon flamethrower techniques, since those were impressive as well.

When he got to the practice field, however, Kast was cleaning an odd-looking blaster while the others loitered casually; she glanced up from her work when informed he had arrived, and beckoned for him to come closer. “Take a look at this,” she said, handing him the blaster. “I found it while organizing my foot locker last night, and thought you might make some use of it.”

The weapon truly was strange; the barrel sounded hollow when he gently tapped it, rather than full of many tiny glass refracting lenses of a typical Mandalorian blaster. There was no slot for a charge pack, and no safety buttons to set a laser to stun or kill. “What is it?” he asked after a long moment.

Kast grinned. “It’s a slug-thrower, the predecessor to the modern blaster. It uses small amounts of explosive powder to propel solid ammunition toward a target.”

“Really?” that sounded cool! “And you think I’ll be able to deflect that?” It was heartwarming to be acknowledged as competent.

Kast blanched. “Oh hell no. Not because you aren’t good at this!” she corrected quickly, likely when she saw the disappointment in his face. “But because that ammunition actually moves faster than blaster bolts, too fast for even your reflexes, and it causes a kark-ton of damage when it hits. Even if you do manage to catch it, when it collides with a lightsaber it explodes into shrapnel. No…we’re going to have you shoot this at a target.”

“Why me?”

“Because, due to the explosive powder, there’s a fair amount of recoil when this fires; in flight, a person is blown backwards, and that can be dangerous. But, since you are going to be on the ground for now, and since your stance steadies you, I think that you could use this to far greater effect than one of us can.”

A few small clicks sounded in the stillness as several Magpies went to private comm channels; Rook glared at all of them, muttering a sentence in Mando’a so quietly that Feral only caught the word for ‘gossip.’ “Anyway,” she said, putting out a hand to reclaim the slug-thrower. “Let me show you how to load it, and then we’ll get you on the range.”

A few minutes later, Kast stood next to him as he lifted the old weapon with one hand. “All right, you’ve got fifteen rounds before you need to reload. And I’m not joking about the recoil. You might want to use two…”

BLAM! “WOO!” Feral cried with a grin. “That’s loud! And you’re right about the recoil, but it’s not so bad. I think I can get used to it.” He squinted at the target to see where the bullet landed, and took aim again.

“Isn’t that a little bit high?”

“Yeah, but the rounds are solid, like you said, so they’re affected by gravity, like our spears and arrows back home,” he said. “It’ll move in a shallow arc, so you have to aim a little bit higher than center to hit exactly where you want to hit.”

“Oh…I suppose that makes sense.”

BLAM! Feral squinted at the target again. “That was a little too high; this should bring me pretty close to a rancors-eye.”

“You can see that far? I’m still calibrating my HUD for the darkness.”

He winked mischievously, watching as the light his eyes cast on her blue armor dimmed briefly, and fired again. BLAM!

“What the hell is going on out there?” yelled one of the Falleen guards.

“Target practice, go back to your business!” replied Urraca Tidd, Kast’s lieutenant. “Objective still not sighted, ma’am,” she said in a lower tone, ignoring the litany of protests from the Falleen about the early hour.

“I…think you hit dead-center that last time,” Kast marveled. “Do you think you could hit it again?”

BLAM! “Yeah, I think so.”

“Objective sighted.”

ZZOW! Before he could ask what Tidd was talking about, Feral was kneeling on the ground, staring up at Kast in consternation as she took the slug-thrower, removed the ammunition, and checked to make sure there were no rounds still in the chamber. “Was that a stun bolt?”

“Shh…a low-level one,” she murmured, bringing out a little spray bottle and spritzing a tiny amount of strong, sweet-smelling liquid under each of his ears. “Can I get a medic?” she called. “I think Lord Feral sprained a muscle.”

“What? No I did-”

“Hush. Just go with it.” She slid her shoulders under his right arm, and Tidd did the same with his left; together, they helped him limp toward the medtent, where Barriss and Merle were holding open the entrance.

“What happened?” asked the Mandalorian medic.

“We were trying out an untraditional weapon. It recoiled and he fell pretty hard on his right ankle.” They got him into a bed, and before Merle could take a look at him, Tidd grabbed her shoulder. “Oh, uh, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about what happened on Carlac. Can you spare a moment?”

“…Sure,” Merle said, eying Barriss as she let herself be led out of the tent. “I’ll be right back.”

Kast glanced down at Feral and nodded briefly. “I’m just gonna let the doc examine you, all right? We’ll try this again tomorrow.”

“Wait, where are you-?” Kast hurried out of sight before he could finish his sentence, leaving him alone in the medtent with Barriss. He shook his head at his secret sister-in-law. “It’s a stun bolt, not a sprain. And I have no idea what’s going on.”

Barriss pulled a seat closer to him, inhaled, and went pale. Her hands scrabbled in her pockets, producing a small cloth bag which she pressed to her nose. “You’re wearing the Falleen perfume.”

Feral felt his blood pressure rise and his hands move to the damp spots under his ears. “I swear I had nothing to do with that.”

“I know,” Barriss chuckled, standing to close the curtains. “It looks like you have made a few friends, though; they’re trying to set you up.”

His blood suddenly went cold. “Why would friends want me dead?”

“Not set you up to be killed, set you up with me,” she clarified, still keeping her distance. “They think you are romantically interested with me, and used the perfume to try and help you get my attention.”

“…What?”

She shushed him, still laughing softly. “It’s rather funny, actually; they must have misinterpreted the talks we’ve been having over lunch.”

“You think that now, but when Maul gets a whiff of this on you and me, he is going to start cutting things off, of me.”

“Don’t be silly, we all platonically share a bed. I’m sure there are far more reasonable conclusions for him to jump to.”

Proximity sirens blared throughout the camp, signaling the return of the Warbird fleet. Feral pursed his lips and glared significantly at Barriss. “Would you care to test his ire, or should I?”

#star wars #the clone wars #awol 2: renegade #awol au #canon divergence #darth maul #feral opress #otp: mauliss #pre viszla #jabba the hutt #rook kast #mandalorian oc of color #barriss offee #nightsister merrin #savage opress #maul got a bit of a reputation as a 'ghost' in the underworld #he's been out for ten years but of course a Hutt isn't going to care too much about ten years #tw: jabba the hutt #episode dialogue has started to change because of the au #giving someone a gun in Mandalorian culture is a bit like giving them flowers #not that Rook really means it that way #And yes she is totally ogling Feral throughout the target practice scene #firearms competency is hawt to her #I figure the slug-thrower is a bit like a glock #Maul wouldn't actually hurt Feral if he thought there was cheating going on #but he might not take it very well in *other* ways...

[hannagoldworthy]

Renegade 10

(I've modified the raid on the Hutt Council to be a bit more complicated than in canon, as a subtle preface for Hutt Nightmares to Come. Salt is used in the context of mafia backstabbings, it's awesome. Barriss gains a gangster bestie, Savage has a chat with Bo-Katan, and there's some heavy stuff in each conversation about slavery, war, and underage victims of both, so be warned)

The meeting with the Hutt Council was over in five minutes, possibly less. Maul laid out the bare bones of their plan, and nothing more; Savage was not surprised that the Hutts were insulted when his brother basically asked for access to their resources and capital without offering them anything in return for their assistance. They brought out four bounty hunters to do away with them, and Savage blocked a very lazily thrown knife from entering Maul’s eye.

The one who had thrown it was a female Zabrak, whose eyes swerved over to her right to raise an impressed eyebrow at one of her compatriots. Savage followed her gaze and was rewarded with a sly wink from…oh no.

Well, there was no time to process the reappearance of Ventress’s overly flirtatious partner from Florrum, because he was running, from the bounty hunters and from the armed heavies that seemed to come out of the woodwork. They made it to the hangar, where Viszla had had Kryze and the Nite Owls waiting. ‘Just in case,’ he’d said. ‘There was no reason to expect the Hutts would refuse them,’ he’d said. Kryze was laughing almost as much as Savage wanted to beat his head against a wall.

The fight that ensued was also short; the pink lady slammed one of Kryze’s guys into the floor and ordered a retreat, and they were quick in pursuit. The Zabrak woman and the strong and silent bloke with the hat and the trained anooba took him and Maul on in a fistfight that even Savage could tell was a distraction; the human with a turban and the pink lady extricated their compatriots with a smoke bomb (from him) and a kiss blown in Savage’s direction (from her). Then, to nobody’s real surprise, they arrived in an empty Council room…well, almost empty.

One Hutt remained: the white slug that had sat in the leftmost chair of the room. He had several blasters pointed at him, but it was hardly necessary, as his underside was sizzling audibly under the effect of some poison. He was in pain, though he hid that under a veneer of quite real fear when Savage pressed a lightsaber blade to his neck; he offered up a location, but it was one that Maul and Viszla seemed to have obtained from other sources, and so Maul gave the order to kill.

And Savage killed for the first time since he had beheaded the Black Sun leadership.

And it felt…wrong, in a way it had not before. The Black Sun had been preparing to attack; this creature here, as well-deserving of death and judgment as he had undoubtedly been, had also been injured, and pleading pathetically for his worthless life. At least the death had been quick; Savage supposed it could be construed as a twisted sort of mercy, both for the slug himself and for the uncounted lives who had languished under his thumb for centuries. But still; it did not feel like a victory.

Viszla mistook Savage’s…shock; it could not be described any other way…as a pause for observation. Sidling around, the Mandalorian nudged the singed, putrid corpse with one armored foot, and then knelt to examine the floor around it. “Industrial strength anti-icing salt,” he declared, looking to Maul. “Oruba was betrayed.”

Maul nodded. “He was the longest-serving representative of the Besadiis, the Hutt clan that held the most seats on the Council until today. Jabba, the Presider, is a Desilijic, and the Besadiis’ longtime rival; now, he can appoint someone from his family to fill Oruba’s place, at his leisure.” His nose twitched, and he sauntered away from the motionless Hutt, seemingly oblivious to the hard stares he was receiving from throughout the room. “He will be in a pleasant mood, since we have done his dirty work for him without being hired. It would be best if we capitalize upon it immediately; Jabba can be capricious on his best days.”

Savage followed his brother without thinking, his mind in…other places. He didn’t see the person loitering beside their designated Warbird until she approached him; the pink woman smiled sultrily in Maul’s direction when his brother growled warningly.

“Peace,” she held up her hands with a flourish, a flimsiplast card between the fingers of her left. “It’s as you said; I have no allegiance without an active contract.” She reached slowly with her left hand toward Savage, planting the card between the crevices of his breastplate. “And if you ever want to establish an active contract, you now know where to contact me.” With a delicate bow and another wink, she was off toward her other affairs.

Savage removed the card and held it for Maul to examine. “Is it an offer that interests you?”

“Not at the present; but, it’s something we can keep in mind.”

***

The night after Death Watch undertook the journey to Nal Hutta was a quiet one, even for Zanbar, for the main forces of the Black Sun were settling business on the planet Falleen, and the Pyke Syndicate hadn’t yet sent any more of their own people to join Lom Pyke and his two lieutenants. Barriss and Hoshimi Merle were left alone in the medtent with the two Falleen noblewomen; Farziga was being sequestered from the rest of the Falleen so that her pheromones would not accidentally throw them into early labor, and though she stayed, Ziidra scrupulously kept her rebreather over her nose.

Merle was a nice girl, if a bit excitable; she’d apologized at length for fainting, which Farziga, likely scenting her candor, had waved off without much fuss. “You’ve never had to deal with our biology before, it caught you off guard. You’re all right.” That hadn’t stopped Merle from becoming over-vigilant to compensate, shooing the (multiple) Mandalorians who had stopped by to coo at the ‘foundlings’ out of the tent with almost as much ferocity as Ziidra had managed. She was only persuaded to go to sleep when Barriss told her to take one of the cots, so she could respond if needed; she was sleeping there now, snoring lightly as Barriss finished her repairs on the med droid and her conversation with Nilam.

He had been about to congratulate her on her pregnancy, if she remembered right.

I wanted to break it to you gently, if that were at all possible, the aurebesh letters scrolled across the droid’s output screen. I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner, so you might have taken a precaution with Farziga.

Barriss sighed; he didn’t need to apologize, she had missed the signs herself. There wasn’t much point in ruminating about past mistakes. She just needed to deal with the situation she faced currently, which would hopefully become more favorable for her in the next week or two.

You’re playing a dangerous game here…

“Medic Barriss?” Farziga’s voice sounded from behind her curtain. “Can you come here please?”

She took a deep breath, nodded to the droid in lieu of Nilam’s ghost, and hurried over to the noblewoman’s cot. Farziga’s skin had changed color in the way of Falleen, currently hovering at a blissful sort of yellow, which was a very good sign after the ordeal she had undergone the night before. She gestured at the chair, which Ziidra had vacated in order to sleep a bit more on a cot of her own. “Please, sit with me for a moment; this shouldn’t take too long.”

This was odd, but so was Farziga; calmly, Barriss shelved her conversation with Nilam again, and seated herself close to her patient, taking her hand when offered. “Is there something I can do to help?”

Farziga shrugged airily. “Keeping me company is good enough for now,” she chuckled. “My body woke up automatically to feed the hatchlings, but they aren’t hatching yet so that’s a letdown; I just want a little conversation to get me back to sleep.”

“That sounds reasonable enough,” Barriss replied with a smile. “What do you want to discuss?”

“Hmm, now there’s a question.” The old noblewoman tilted her head for a moment, the crest on her forehead rippling from yellow to blue and back again as she considered. “Barriss is a lovely name…sounds almost Falleen, but I imagine it means something in Mirialan.”

“It means ‘peace.’”

“A good, strong name, then; peace is a hard thing to accomplish. Is it a common name, on your world?”

“Common enough; it was a fad, when I was born, to name children after virtues.”

“Ah; so the name Barriss Offee probably means nothing to you.”

Barriss felt her heart leap into her throat, but managed to keep the reaction from showing outwardly. However, Farziga’s skin shifted into her customary, canny green; there was no point in lying to someone who could literally smell her thoughts.

“Hah, of course not,” the noblewoman continued, stroking comfortingly at the diamonds on the hand that lay helplessly in hers. “Barriss Offee was a Jedi who worked at a Medstar station over the planet Drongar, some months ago when my late husband’s hopes for breaking into the pharmaceutical industry were quite thoroughly, and mysteriously, dashed. It would be most irregular for someone such as her to show up later in the company of a self-described Sith Lord and his entourage.”

Barriss swallowed slowly, unable to tear herself away from Farziga’s assiduous eye contact. “Most irregular, indeed,” she replied steadily. “Surely she would have known better than to associate with former enemies such as your honorable self, knowing how badly she personally set your organization back.”

“Hah,” Farziga shook her head ruefully. “My husband overextended his resources on Drongar for a plant purported to be a miracle drug. I told him that he was wasting his time and money, but our contract stipulated that I consort with him in mating season and produce healthy children for him thereafter, not advise him on financial affairs. I laughed when the bota plant mutated and became unusable; I was going to divorce the prick as soon as I got out of my confinement, but he snubbed Lords Maul and Viszla and got his empty head cut off, and now I am in control of all his assets until his offspring come of age.” The Falleen woman grinned conspiratorially. “The matter is done, for me; chasing one Jedi across the galaxy over a dead venture isn’t something that’s tenable.”

She allowed herself one sigh of relief. “That Jedi, should she ever meet you, is in your debt.”

Farziga glanced significantly at the incubator. “Is she now? I can think of one service that would more than cancel that debt, and in fact leave me beholden to her.” She gestured for Barriss to come closer. “I don’t probably need to tell you that Death Watch intends to renege on this alliance, my dear; I have seen and executed these sorts of double-dealings for decades. And yes, slavery is probably the most profitable way for them to be rid of potential rivals, which is probably weighing very heavily on your mind in particular.”

Barriss shook her head. “There is no market for Mirialan slaves now that Mirial is freed.”

“But Dathomirian Zabraks fetch an exorbitant price, especially now that Grievous has devastated their homeworld.” Farziga paused to look Barriss square in the eye. “And rare hybrids, even babies, are even more expensive.” Out of sheer reflex, Barriss brought her free hand to rest protectively over her stomach, and Farziga nodded grimly. “I have run spy organizations, of my own and for my contractors, many times over the years; I think I can disrupt a slave market. Can I have my comm unit? I have some arrangements to make.”

“I’ll get one for you immediately, Your Honor.”

Barriss forced herself to be measured in her movements, fetching Farziga’s comm unit from the dresser beside her cot and handing it to her. The Falleen nodded gratefully, but the mother-nuna tone arose in her voice quite quickly thereafter.

“Now, Doctor, you must look after yourself,” she smiled, patting Barriss’s hand again. “Leave me alone to handle a few things, and get some sleep while you still can.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.”

The text that scrolled across the med droid’s viewscreen when Barriss returned to it seemed almost smug. You seem to have no lack of helpful friends.

She eyed the viewscreen suspiciously, wondering what Nilam meant by…what had he done?

She was at a high risk, and needed your help. All I did was give a little nudge, though that nudge had faster results than I had been expecting…

“Nilam, you didn’t,” Barriss whispered.

It’s as you said: the clutch needed to come out sooner than later. And, it’s as she said: you need your sleep. Wake Merle for her shift that was supposed to start twenty minutes ago; you’ve covered enough shifts for her when she was sleeping, anyway, and she owes you a favor.

***

“Trust me on this: you’re not doing yourself any favors by moping over a dead Hutt.”

The gigantic Zabrak paused in his musings to consider her, eyes glowing in the darkened cargo bay lights. “I am not moping over the Hutt,” he rumbled contemptuously.

Bo-Katan snorted. “You’ve only been staring at your overpowered glow stick since before we left Nal Hutta; you’ve gotta be moping about something.”

He rolled his eyes. “Surely you have better things to be doing than babysitting me.”

“Saxon was babysitting you, until I dismissed him. I’m evaluating you. You’re one of our most visible assets in the field and I want to make sure we’ll be able to count on you on Tatooine.” She pulled up an ammo crate, and settled herself down on it, trying her best to pretend that she was talking to one of her Owls, someone who answered to her authority, instead of the hulking creature in front of her. “So tell me…big fella. What’s eating you?”

Those sharp yellow eyes took in her manner for two seconds before the Zabrak laughed bitterly. “An asset, huh?” he asked, easing the lightsaber hilt into its sheath at his side. “You mean a weapon.”

She was not in the habit of flinching at the censure of outsiders. “Perhaps.”

He nodded pensively. “I have been meditating on what it means to be a weapon,” he said, staring down at his interlaced fingers. “A tool of war, mindless and speechless in its wielder’s hands…I felt so yesterday, looking down at the carcass of that worm.”

Bo rolled her eyes. “Like I said…”

“I am not grieving the Hutt,” the Zabrak growled. “He would have been dead by the machinations of his ilk that day or any day after it; it was only a matter of time. But I know the feeling of having been used to further the plots of others, intimately, and that was what happened on Nal Hutta.”

“If you didn’t want to kill the Hutt, you could have told your brother to kill it himself.”

“It’s not about…” The giant glared at her, shook his head, and sighed. “I don’t know why I’m even trying to talk to you. You have no concept of how I feel about this.”

“Ha, that shows how much you know.”

“Really? You? Lady Kryze, renegade princess? You know how it is to be used?”

“You…” Bo stood silently, biting her tongue. “You are an outsider. You know nothing of what I’ve gone through.”

“You disagreed with your sister on how to rule Mandalore, and you ran away to join her opposition. What is there to understand?”

“She’s not my sister.”

“We outsiders understand the idea of disownment, too.”

“No, you’re missing the point.” Bo took in a breath, and let it out slow. “I was seven years old during the Mandalorian wars. My parents were killed in battle, against the New Mandalorian forces, and the New Mandalorians took up the responsibility of caring for me.”

The Dathomirian sat back on his haunches, studying her closely. “You were a war trophy.”

“No, I was a foundling,” Bo spat. “One of several that the new Duchess Satine sponsored as a gesture of goodwill and a token of obedience to the edicts of the Resol’nare. It was the last properly Mandalorian thing she ever did.” She shifted her helmet to her other hip; why was she talking about this with him of all people? “After that day, I was expected to be a symbol of lasting peace in our society, to swear loyalty to her bastardized ideas of unity and defense when she would not even take up arms to protect me and my ‘vode.’”

“…You were a weapon.”

Bo scoffed, but nodded to concede his point. “A weapon of peace…and I was expected to be happy about the contradiction in terms.” She sat down on the box, willing herself to look back into those glowing eyes, forcing her muscles not to contract in fear of the huge outsider in her personal space. “And for a while, I did everything I could to earn the title and repay my new family for their generosity. I forgot my previous surname; I learned of outside laws and regulations; I trained to protect kids like me, but only at greatest need.”

His eyes narrowed. “But you yourself never felt protected.”

She felt an eyelid twitch, but decided to allow that deduction to stand. “How could I, when I knew my vod’ika,” she snarled the endearment for ‘beloved sibling’ like a curse, “would never take up arms in my defense? Death Watch understands the purpose of the old laws, but Satine doesn’t want to; our people see that, or they will, as I have.” Gingerly, she reached out and touched the giant’s shoulder, trying to show some sort of pathos for her epic conclusion to this little pep talk. “I am more than willing to be a weapon in a cause that is just…and I am grateful that you and your family have done so much to help mine. It’s more than my sister has ever managed.”

The outsider looked at her silently for a few seconds, and then gently removed her hand, letting it fall into her lap. “I appreciate your honesty; you have given me much to think about,” he said, and nodded to the barracks. “Now, if you’ll leave me to my meditation, I can promise I’ll be in top shape tomorrow.”

“Have at it then,” she replied. “Just try not to sleep out here; it’s got to be bad for your neck.”

“I’m a little too big for the bunks, sadly, so it’s better for my neck than sleeping squished into a ball. But, thanks for the sentiment.”

Bo-Katan had nodded at Saxon to resume his post over their ally, walked down the hallway, and laid down in full armor in her own bunk before she realized she was going over plans to find some sort of oversized mattress which would accommodate the giant Dathomirian better than their current supplies. She turned over and tried to put the thought out of her mind; the sooner Viszla broke this deal, the better.

#star wars #the clone wars #awol au #awol 2: renegade #savage opress #barriss offee #bo katan kryze #maul #pre viszla #oruba the hutt #falleen oc #tw: pregnancy mention #otp: mauliss #which is still in the background at this current moment #did Savage look horrified when he killed Oruba in the episode? #or is it just me? #He didn't get a lot of characterization #salting your rival's tail is the Hutt equivalent of kneecapping them #fun with slug gangsters #and I do mean that #Farziga knew basically Barriss's entire story as soon as she got a good whiff of her #It's nice to use Falleen in a way that's not *as* creepy as they can be in Legends #Although she's still very obviously 'nice' in a 'mob queen' sort of way #Savage and Bo-Katan have a heart-to-hearts #I don't think she managed to manipulate him as much as she was trying #It's not really her strong suit

[hannagoldworthy]

Renegade 1

(Oh, we are COOKING, baby! This is the sequel to AWOL. I tried to be a little clever with the 'Previously On' segment, but this has been done a great deal. Our protagonists will return properly in the next segment, but for now, the Council has to do some quick catching-up.)

What follows is a transcription of the holo-file and notes of Master Adi Gallia, acting Council Recorder for the matter of the desertion of Jedi Knight and Healer Barriss Offee, and everything that transpired thereafter. For purposes of a linear timeline of events, eyewitness testimony has been cut together from different parts of the day: Clan Crystal Snake was interviewed in the morning and Professor Huyang just before noon, followed by Padawans Tano and Syndulla with their respective Masters in the afternoon and Master Unduli and Clone Commander Gree in the evening. Hyperlinks to referenced reports in italics and parentheses as per protocol. Translation from Shyriiwook and Ithorian provided by Master Plo Koon.

***

Master Mace Windu: You served with General Offee during her last months as a Padawan learner, correct? We’re given to understand your relationship was…somewhat close.

Gree: I assure you, sir, that our relationship was strictly professional.

Master Shaak Ti: Be at ease, Commander Gree. We are not going to censure you for personal feelings.

Gree: Are you getting this impression from a complaint from General Mara? Because he was mistaken about my relationship with General Offee. (Link to Tutso Mara’s report here – volume warning for headphone users)

Ti: Well-

Gree: Let me state for the record, sir, since this rumor has been making the rounds in the barracks and likely in your Temple. My relationship with Barriss Offee was parental, not romantic. We were on a first-name basis in private, but strictly professional in front of the men. Her disappearance struck me as irregular, given similar disappearances of young Jedi in the past, so I continued to look for her after she was declared Missing in Action. I understand that it was disobeying orders –

Windu: You had reason to continue looking, Commander. You are not on trial for having good instincts; we are just trying to piece together what happened.

Gree: Right sir. Well, I discovered, after some research, that General Offee had had a number of prisoners of war in her care during the battle. The Umbaran military complex had been pumping their soldiers full of an aerosolized methamphetamine made from a native plant, and when they were captured, their supply of the drug was cut off, and they started to experience severe withdrawal symptoms, a disturbing amount of which resulted in death. (Link to final mission reports by Generals Mara and Offee)

Windu: And you believe that that was Offee’s motivation behind her desertion?

Gree: I believe it was one motivation, sir.

***

Master Lissarkh: The Commander came to me because, at the beginning of the investigation, he believed Offee might have been kidnapped by my people for the purpose of ritual hunting. You have my mission report on the investigation my Padawan and I conducted into the matter. (Indeed we do. Warning: gore)

Master Ki-Adi-Mundi:And once you eliminated that possibility, you did not consider the matter settled?

Lissarkh: I was not in a position to have an opinion, as I was locked in the infirmary to regenerate my left arm – my non-dominant arm, I might add, which I have regenerated plenty of times with simple bed rest and without the need to report to any power-hungry Healers in order to take a-

Master Adi Gallia: Your opinion on that particular protocol has been made (well known), Master. Let us stick to this particular briefing, hm?

Lissarkh: Good Force, who let Adi have the recorder?

Ti: She won it from me by beating me in a racing holo-game.

Lissarkh: That explains a great deal about what you people do in these chairs all day.

Mundi: If we can continue with the matter at hand? Your Padawan continued to work with Commander Gree after your hospitalization-

Lissarkh: Prison sentence.

Padawan Jacen Syndulla: -Masters, I kept in touch with Commander Gree. He was doing his own investigation, and I offered my services to help, but in the end an informant responded to his advertisement regarding Offee’s location. And we reported that information to Master Kenobi as soon as possible. It was all very boring in the end and we never left Coruscant or did anything drastic.

***

Master Obi-Wan Kenobi:When Gree and Jinx showed up at my doorstep informing me that Barriss had been seen in the company of Savage Opress, I had to act. I informed you of the shadow that had been growing on my mind, Master Yoda.

Master Yoda: You did…and the same feeling had I. The enemy you had defeated on Naboo was still alive somehow.

Kenobi: Yes, and Opress was his brother.

Windu: You are certain of that?

Kenobi: I can recount every detail of Darth Maul’s face, mannerisms, fighting style, what have you, and Opress, in every encounter I had with him, bore an uncanny resemblance. Even before I (spoke with the Nightsisters), I would have wagered my life that they were related. If Barriss was in contact with Opress, I had every reason to believe she was in very grave danger, and that danger would reach the Order eventually. So, I acted. I withdrew from the mission to Onderon, mustered my men, and asked Masters Lissarkh and Unduli to accompany me with their own legions to Florrum, where they had last been seen. Hondo Ohnaka confirmed the presence of two Zabrak men, but had not seen Barriss.

Master Unduli: But I had enough evidence to hunt down an associate of our anonymous informant, Miss Latts Razzi, whom I had previous contact with in (my time) (as a peacekeeper) (just after my Knighting). She would not identify her associate, but she confirmed that the two of them had indeed seen Barriss in the brothers’ company.

Kenobi: After that, it was a waiting game; neither Ohnaka nor Razzi knew where they had gone. Lissarkh had a suspicion that they might turn up at the brothers’ home planet, Dathomir, which is in Mandalorian space, so I spoke with Duchess Kryze to obtain permission for Anakin to search in the vicinity as long as he minded his manners.

***

Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker:Talking to the Nightbrothers was about as useful as shaving a bantha, Hondo Ohnaka was breathing down my neck in the hopes of looting the Nightsister’s village, the bats were the size of Jabba the Hutt and twice as mean, the targets got away and somehow managed to pick up two more prisoners in the process, and the karking witch ghosts nearly buried me and my men.

Mundi: Language, young Skywalker.

Yoda: No, dealt with ghosts in the past I have. Karking, an inadequate adjective, it is. Try-

***

Lissarkh: When the Opress brothers escaped Skywalker on Dathomir, the search hit a dead end. We were getting nowhere fast, so we proceeded with a local campaign dispersing the remaining scattered cells of Zygerrian slavers surrounding the I-Sector, in hopes they’d turn up again.

Syndulla: And I was bored out of my skull, so when Padawan Tano requested me as a back-up chaperone for a group of younglings making the Gathering, I agreed to go along.

Yoda: Bored out of your skull you were not on Ilum, hmm?

Padawan Ahsoka Tano: He likes to climb the statues.

Yoda: Climb the statues he did not this time. Talked with you the whole time he did. Emhmhmhmhm…

Skywalker: He did, did he?

Kenobi: Anakin…

Syndulla: She wanted me to catch her up on the search for Offee, since she had been on Onderon for most of the search. (Link to Tano’s mission report here)

Tano: The rest of the mission that went as planned was fairly routine up until Hondo Ohnaka decided to raid our ship and steal our Ilum crystals.

Skywalker: While we’re here, anyone care to venture a reason why he risked injuring Jedi children so soon after he helped us on Onderon? Obi-Wan?

Kenobi: The best I can guess, he was trying to get in Dooku’s better graces because most of the sector was under Separatist control at the time, and Dooku was still harboring a grudge from when Ohnaka captured him that first time. (Link to the previous mission reports by Kenobi and Skywalker – warning for conflicting information) Raiding a ship full to the brim with rare materials used in the art of lightsaber crafting and guarded only by an ancient protocol droid and eight children would probably have seemed like an easy way to seem unbiased and make a little cash on the side.

Skywalker: He wasn’t counting on running into Ahsoka, though.

Tano: Or Jinx, Master. Not that it mattered; we both ended up captured. When we awoke in his lair, Barriss was already imprisoned there with us. He said he’d ‘rescued’ her from some monster trying to eat her, but that he intended to sell her to the Separatists still around Mirial for the active bounty on Mirialans there was at the time.

Syndulla: And he intended to sell us two Padawans directly to Dooku.

Kenobi: I thought that had been his goal…he told me that he took you away from some competitors who intended to do just that, but he didn’t have and still doesn’t have any real competitors in that region.

Skywalker: You should have let Cody and his men run rampant.

Kenobi: Business before pleasure, I’m afraid. I could only spare enough time to inquire about the Padawans’ and younglings’ safety. And that was when I learned that Maul had not only undergone treatment to regrow his legs; he’d infiltrated the compound in the company of a young Nightsister under assumed names to recover young Offee.

Syndulla: When the Crucible was wrecked in front of us, we went with Maul and Merrin into the stolen turtle tanker freighter.

Skywalker: Why on all the worlds would you-

Tano: It was either that or fight the pirates ourselves when we were outnumbered three to one and our group was largely comprised of pre-adolescents. We made a choice to survive, Master.

Skywalker: You deliberately went with a confirmed Sith Lord and his immediate family, to survive?

***

Crystal Snake Clan Initiates’ names redacted for their privacy as they were un-apprenticed at this time this was recorded.

Corellian: Merrin was awesome! She waved her hand and turned some guy inside out! By accident!

Tholothian: You aren’t supposed to enjoy someone’s death, [Corellian]. It’s not the Jedi way!

Corellian: You liked her too, [Tholothian]. Didn’t she let you and [Rodian] braid her hair?

Master Plo Koon: We will have to speak about this matter further at a later time, children. We were more interested in your treatment by the clan of Dathomirians who took you in for a week or so.

Nautolan: Well, Mister Savage looked really scary, but he was actually very nice.

Ithorian: Yeah, he made us hot chocolate!

Wookiee: And went fishing with us!

Rodian: And let us bury him into the sand and turn him into a Melodie sculpture!

Nautolan: Really, the only time he even seemed worried was if we jostled his brother, Mister Feral.

Ithorian: Yeah, Mister Feral was quad-rip-le-gic when we arrived. But, Master Offee healed him as soon as we landed on Mirial, so he was still learning to walk around.

Wookiee: Mister Feral was very nice, too. He’d only just left his homeworld, so he was very confused, and very careful, but he sang the best lullabies.

Koon: And what about Maul?

Tholothian: We didn’t really see much of him. He hung back, and didn’t really talk a lot.

***

Professor Huyang: No, they are not the ‘Brothers Opress’. That name was a title bestowed upon Savage, and he has since repudiated it; something to do with a previous, unhappy marriage. For now, the only one who had any other title was Darth Maul, and even he did not associate with me or with the children enough to allow us opportunity to use it.

Yoda: Pose any threat to the children, did he?

Huyang: Not that I could see, though my senses are quite diminished as compared to yours, young Master Yoda. Some interesting perspectives on lightsaber-making, had he, but other than that he was content to simply watch. Little [Rodian] could probably give you a detailed emotional analysis, but alas, my programming extends not that far.

Yoda: [Rodian] certainly had some…opinions…

***

[Rodian]: Yeah, Mister Maul made eyes at Healer Offee more than [Corellian] makes eyes at [Tholothian].

[Corellian]: Hey!

[Tholothian]: Hey!

[Rodian]: Anyway, Barriss never really seemed to notice him looking at her. And good for her…if it’s true that she left the Order, she can do so much better.

***

Syndulla: I had an opportunity to speak privately with Maul, and I sensed a great deal of loneliness. He had the feel of someone who had been isolated for a very long time; he almost reminded me of my former comrade, Kalifa.

Tano: That sleemo is nothing like Kalifa.

Syndulla: Well, you knew Kalifa after she had been basically forced to have companions for almost two years. When I met her, she’d been alone for a long time, and she didn’t know how to really talk with people anymore. She had to be coaxed into talking to us like some sort of wild tooka, and even then she was gruff. And that was Maul, to put it succinctly. The man could interact with his siblings, and with Barriss, but he looked at us like we were puzzles to be solved.

Tano: Well, he certainly managed to solve Barriss’s puzzle pretty quickly.

Kenobi: Don’t mutter, Ahsoka…what do you mean?

Tano: Oh, I just found the two of them in the middle of ‘tender negotiations’ when I was looking for the refresher.

Lissarkh: Huh?

Windu: Pardon?

Yoda: Urhrm?

Skywalker: WHAT?

Tano: Sorry, Masters, I used a rather obscure lineage metaphor. From what I saw, Barriss and Maul were clearly emotionally attached, and likely physically involved on top of that.

Syndulla: So that’s why he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

Tano: When I confronted her on the matter, Barriss defined their relationship in terms of marriage.

Gallia’s note: here the recording falls silent, as those present seemed unsure of what to say to that, myself included. Master Kenobi broke a pause in conversation that lasted at least a minute.

Kenobi: …Awww…

Skywalker: …WHAT?!

Windu: Care to explain your rather…unconventional reaction to this news, Master Kenobi?

Skywalker: YEAH MASTER CARE TO EXPLAIN?!?

Kenobi: Anakin I’m right in front of you, don’t shout…

Skywalker: MY POOR, INNOCENT PADAWAN HAD TO WATCH HER BEST FRIEND AND SOME RANDO SITH THUG GOING AT IT, AND YOU SAY ‘AWWW’?!?!

Kenobi: I am a sucker for a good love story, and you know this, Anakin. It’s nice to see that the two found some common ground…

Skywalker: COMMON GR-no, you know what? Frotz this. Ahsoka needs trauma therapy. Obi-Wan needs medication. And I need some kriffing brain bleach, because that is an image nobody should ever have to even imagine, thank you very much. Come on, Ahsoka, we’re done here.

Windu: No, we are not-Skywalker!

Koon: No, Mace, he’s right. Ahsoka’s been through a lot. Let them go.

Lissarkh: Stang, and I thought my heat cycles were wild.

Syndulla: Master, please don’t make this any worse than it is…

Koon: Is there much else to report after the events Ahsoka described?

Syndulla: No. The attack on Mirial started during their confrontation, and the Zabrak clan decided to leave us behind when it was clear the Jedi were going to come looking. They found a tent and set it up on the beach, and the younglings went back to sleep in there; then they left, and Barriss chose to stay with them.

Koon: Then, I think you and your Master have had a long enough day as well. Get some rest. You’ve earned it. And Liz, quit chewing on your hangnail, you’re going to infect it.

Lissarkh: Master…I’m forty.

***

Windu: Luminara, we learned some news that might disturb you…

Unduli: Oh, you’re using my first name; that must mean you’re trying to break Barriss’s marriage to me gently.

Windu: She informed you?

Unduli: Not in as many words, but, yes.

Windu: Then you realize that you will likely have to fight against her when Darth Maul decides to make some sort of move in the war.

Unduli: I am aware of the potential conflict of interest, Mace. I am at the Council’s service, should you wish to reassign me elsewhere or appoint another Master who hasn’t this grievous conflict of interest.

Windu: That’s not going to be necessary, Luminara. Barriss has made a foolish decision, but you could talk her away from it, given the appropriate chance. We just wanted to make sure you knew she is legally married to a Sith Lord.

Unduli: …I’m sorry…who?

#star wars #the clone wars #awol au #canon divergence #awol 2: renegade #yoda #mace windu #adi gallia #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #lissarkh #jinx syndulla #plo koon #ki-adi-mundi #shaak ti #commander gree #luminara unduli #master huyang #the youngling clan #I gave them a name from legends #the crystal snake did nothing wrong #hoo boy i did get everyone except the protagonists in on this didn't i #brotp: anisoka #momtp: lissarkh and my version of jinx #the pairing for the fic proper will be barriss and maul #with a side of family hijinks #anakin needs a hug #and a nap #they all do

[hannagoldworthy]

So I was rereading Renegade, got to the comment section, read the comment about baby Espresso, proceeded to have 2 am brain fart:

Savage Opresso

That's it that's the ask

Lol; Savage would probably like that nickname.

#awol 2: renegade #savage opress #funny