Short tales

[Ghost Rider]

My name is Kuja Boroshivitz, and I am the greatest servant of the Yaotlan Empire.

That name is my Salliana given name and not what I really go by, mostly because it’s far too long to remember and even I can’t get it right all the time. What I’m known and called by was given to me by my sister when I was hunting one day. For two days I hunted this particular buck and when I came upon it, I had only my knife, so it had to do. At the end I was but the winner except for a few scratches and good shine across my leg but she said ‘You’re like an angry wolf.’. So it stuck, sure, it’s not my given name and my da and ma frown on it but it fits. I use it as my symbol amongst the Conclave and besides no one calls me Boroshivitz, except the stuffy bastard sitting next to me. Derith is the only man I know who can say my full name correctly. Reminds me of my da, except my da smiled.

Without turning I can already feel the frown that my partner never shows. I can practically hear the nagging of we’re to keep our heads on the mission. I’m sorry but it’s been four months and given where we are I can’t help it. We’re sitting in a cold, damp, ugly corner of already an ugly, damp, cold bar and I want to be in the warm, comforting lovely arms of my woman. Shaking my head of that pleasant thought I return to this place as I brush aside a lock of my dark blonde hair, to get a better view of the bar.

Portico has hundreds of these places and everyone is practically the same. Same damp feeling given the place is covered with a thin layer of soot and smog. It is the only city that has any sort of steel making capacity and it shows. This place is covered with a thin layer of smoke clogging all the meager light. I rub my nose to keep out the smell of cheap beer and bile and continue the search. This wasn’t even a real mission, instead something we came upon. We were traveling back home when we came upon a bunch of dead pilgrims who were traveling from Carlisle to Yaotl. One of the poor souls begged us for help, and so we searched for two weeks for the rest of bodies...and nothing except bits and ashes. But the bitch left a calling card in a spot in the snow, a rose.

In a brighter section of this hole I see her, a knight of the Order of Red Rose, and goes by the name of Crimson Dahlia. I just shake my head at most of these idiots and their need to have some incredibly stupid name that sounds good for the peasants. Sitting there laughing and smiling as if all that happened was she went to market and selected a fine set of silks for a dress. On her side I see a holstered fang. So she truly is a part of the Red Rose. A fang is a new weapon, about thirty maybe forty years old. It propels a small metal slug of sorts at incredible speeds, but requires your aim to be especially true. I know my friend likes them, but I’ve learned more then enough on our hunts, it’s the man not the weapon that makes the warrior. This just means I’ll have to be more careful.

I reach out and tap the table with a smile. A comely barmaid walks up and winks as she collects my empty tankard. A bit later a foam head is smirking before me. I twirl a gold coin between my fingers, which disappears and in its place a small folded piece of paper. She saunters off with a smile. When she leaves my sight I hold the paper over our candle. My partner gives the most subtle of nods as he sees our prey. I count five of them and ready myself.

“Six.” Is all he says as he sips his ale. I shake my head as I take another look and see they are leaving in two groups, one of three and two. I smirk as I continue to drink, and look over to correct my partner...but he’s already gone, tankard not even half empty. I hate it when he does that.

********************************************************

Outside, the streets of Portico are gently being covered with a thin layer of snow, but only here would they be grey. I look up to see the ever yawning energy that consumes the sky and as the colors dance about, it only makes me want to see the moon once again. I take a deep breath as I look down and see where the sets of tracks went off to. Only a pair went off, so the other group hasn’t left the bar yet. I throw my hood up and huddle in a corner.

Two, three, five, ten, fifteen minutes and the woman and her retinue finally stumbled out. She herself is not drunk and fairly alert; her partners wouldn’t know if a drolgar came up and bite them all in the ass. She looks to the left and to the right, looks at me for a second and shakes her head. She doesn’t notice me, and neither does her friends. To them I’m just another beggar.

They walk off as if they own the street. I get a good look at their weapons and armor. They’ve seen battle and they recently seen trouble. Good...that means they’ll offer at least a struggle for the crime they did. I give a small smile as I count to ten and pick myself off the curb.

Following them for three blocks and through a couple alleys I get the feeling they know something is following them. Personally I would hope so given the amount of noise I have been making; only a rank idiot would think otherwise. All the while I have my hands on the hilts of Remy and Romy. Both daggers, though some have called them small swords, with a bit of a curve at the end of them. The steel they are made of is alone enough to carve through most armors, the sharpening I do to them is to insure that. Flesh and bone part like water when I meet it. I can practically smell the sweat off their brows as they enter the pitch black alley.

They are stumbling and shuffling about making enough noise that even here; I don’t need to concentrate hard to find them. I take a second to adjust to the darkness. Here my eyes are useless but I can still hear and smell them as if they were no more then five meters away. I didn’t grow up being the best without knowing how easy it is to defeat the eyes...besides with my nick I better live up to it. Just as suddenly as entered the alley their shuffling stopped. I wait, counting my heartbeats, one, two, three, fo...a snap.

My heart races as I hear two coming from behind.

I smile.

They erupt in one smooth motion, guided by what little light they have, but in the end it’s all just gravy. I crouch down, teeth bared, my cloak floating away into the darkness. The first one stands ready as his partner lunges forward, all his weight on his club. I pull my body flat as the swing goes high and plunge my dagger into his soft midsection. I feel no resistance as I twist my friend inside him and pull my elbow back. My reward is a gurgle and thud of the club falling to the ground. I see his partner charge forward with a snarl on his lips, and thrust his sword straight. Foolish man, and with that I teach him his error by clasping his elbow and mine in a lock and shove Remy into his chin and up.

I twist out of lock and fling the body to the side and melt into the darkness. They are trained, they are skilled, but they are not me. I hear them slowly moving forward, and then I hear a roar. It splits the air around me and I feel something slice by me, reminding myself while she cannot see me, she can guess where I am at. Good, oh very good.

The first one stumbles by, not even noticing as I slice into his chest, just enough for him to scream, and another slug roared, this time hitting flesh. Not mine, but flesh nonetheless as I watch a man’s head explode, the other one screams for something. I leap at the noise.

This one thrashes a bit as I surge my dagger between his ribs. He claws a bit on my arms to which I do nothing except twist and pull out. As soon as I step back another blast roars out and hits the poor fool squarely in the chest.

I smell her sweat and can hear the chattering of her teeth.

“Show yourself!” She screams out hoarsely. I’ve seen it a hundred times and will see it a hundred more times. A last challenge and they expect me to take it. I shake my head as I come behind her and slam both my daggers into her lung and heart. I wipe my blades clean and sheathed them. Justice was served and I’ll be home soon and I let out a clean fresh breath.

Walking out the alley I look at the sky and then I hear a click as my eyes drift down. My last thoughts as I reach for my daggers are my lady, and the fact I will never tell her I love her again.

I scream forward, eyes closed and wait for the explosion and hear nothing except a single whisper. I collide with the soot covered ground instead of a bullet. I gather myself and open my eyes and see a hand extended to me. I clasp the hand as he hauls me up.

“Six, my friend.” He says with a faint glimmer of a smile.

I nod laughing and a broad smile pours across my face. “Let go home.”









Good, bad?

If enough response, I'll write a few more. They won't have any real coherent storyline with each other.

[Kuja]

I rather like this fellow who bares my name. Though he should listen to his partner more. That's why we have them after all.

Well, that and for a convienent meat shield when things go wrong.


Awesome story, and interesting world. I'd like to see more.

[Lindar]

*claps laughing* Awww...so what's that make him... not a theif... more of an assasin...*debates* not sure... but more is always good. Cute one GHostie.*awards him some cookies and a bowl of Pudding*

[Ford Prefect]

Most enjoyable. A grerat romp through the realm's of fiction.

[Ghost Rider]

Yeah, well something for slightly different.

Star Wars: Black Tide


“What we do is who we are.” A hooded being said to no one alive. He stood on a high balcony admiring a vast lush jungle that was burning under a horrific green rain. The view warmed him as he turned and heard the footfalls of a single man. Smiling, he turned and melded quietly into the shadows, as the temple shook at its very foundations.

The planet rumbled in defiance to what had happened, with bars of sunlight worming their way through the cracks of the once pristine walls. Immense scorch marks decorated the white walls, the floors and the ceilings. Broad swaths of black smeared the once pristine murals of a time long ago. A thin layer of soot layered the friezes where men, animals, and beings of every sort once strode upon in search of the truth. Then there were the dead. Bodies of men, women, and children struck down in flight by the lightning that pierced into them. Perhaps it was the unnatural workings of the stone walls that for a moment were alive, or maybe it was the ripples of air and force that stalked them, in the end it truly mattered little to the dead. In odd counterpoint a variety of paintings and tapestries were virtually untouched, except when the occasional body exploded near them or where a bit of stone rippled behind them.

Luke Skywalker wandered the vast temple, keeping his balance as the temple heaved to and fro and the explosions outside threatened everything within.

“Mara? Ben? Where are you?” He said as the edge of his black cloak trailed through a pool of blood. He casually stepped over the body of a woman, her dazzling red hair beauty shredded by the horror of her final moment, her eyes wide, staring at the true horror that destroyed all of them. Her mouth, open with disbelief. “Where is everyone hiding?”

Wandering down the halls, his eyes catch a glimpse of his own reflection in an askew mirror. His clothing; once a regal yet demure dark blue, made of the finest materials in the galaxy, are torn and abused, thick with dust and soot. For a second he looked at the small silver cylinder on his belt and noted the strange feeling of the single button on the right side, the delicate hum that resonated through the device. But as soon as the fascination started, it stopped and he continued to look at the face in the mirror. Not a tall man by any standard but a figure that held respect and dignity. The face was handsome once, but lines of worry and stress were now the dominant feature. Hair that held a youthful sandy brown was now a pale reflection of itself, and his eyes. His eyes are now nothing more then black portals. He turned away from the mirror and chuckled as he continued his search.

“Mara, where are you? You must come and see this; I have just found the funniest looking person...” He said and stopped as he felt a tremor in the Force. Behind him a figure rippled from the shadows and then solidified into a man. Skywalker tilted his head at the smiling figure. The figure is taller then Luke, with a crop of dark brown hair. His clothing is midnight black with a single silver chain at his throat. He stepped carelessly through the dead, not heeding or concerned with tradition. The temple rumbled again, harder this time as the explosions came closer, but the man cared little for them, instead intent on the smiling man before him.

“Hello, Luke.” He said. “You look...well.”

The laughter stopped and Luke simply smiled at the being, arms open in greeting an old friend. “Ah, a guest! Mara! We have a guest! Oh do come in and enjoy the warmth of the Force.”

The figure back his hood and his eyes darted to the red headed woman below them and back up at Luke. He frowned and sighed. “Sith take you! I suppose this is how your mind took the event.”

“That name, Sith, very bad...very bad.” Luke shuddered and shook his hand as if to ward off something. “Very dangerous.”

“Ah, so your mind isn’t as lost as it appears. Come now, remember the rest. I want in the end you to know what finally brought you low.”

For a brief span, Luke stared at his blood caked hand, fascinated by the lines. And as suddenly as he seemed lucid, he wiped his hand against his even grimier coat, and turned his attention back to the cloaked man. “Who are you again? Mara, where are you?”

The black cloaked man drew up to his full height. “I was once known as Corrinar Dar’Halis, but now...”

“Darth Annihilius.” Luke whispered as his memory stirred again, but as soon as clarity came to him, it was muddied by a fog not of his making. He shook his head from it all.

“So you do remember, or you remember the vague bits your mind allows.” Haster said with a broad grin. “Yes, Darth Annihilius. You, Jedi gave me this name to have me become reviled to the galaxy and I will turn it into a name that will bring fear to a thousand generations. I have no illusions, no dreams of returning to the feeble light that turned its love from me when I most needed it. After this day, you shall have a title more befitting of what has happened...”

“Mara should be here to greet you, thusly.” Luke murmured absently, and then he raised his voice. “Mara, where are you?” The temple shook again; the body of the red haired woman shifted slightly as if in response to the call. His eyes did not even notice the movement.

Annihilius grimaced as he looked at the body below and leveled his eyes against Luke. “Look at you!” he said filled with scorn. “You once stood amongst the greatest of Jedi! You were the destroyer of the Death Star! The one who humbled Palpatine! The Master of a New Order! Now look at yourself, nothing more then a sputtering mewling shell of your former self. Still it is not enough that you are reduced to this.”

“I truly do not understand what is keeping Mara. She will give me the lashing of a Rancor if I hide a guest from her, ah...that reminds me of well back, I’d say a few years before the entire Vong mess, when and old friend Camie came to visit, and I didn’t tell Mara...” Luke said cheerfully, waving his hands about. “Though I do warn you, she is very good at finding every secret you hold within; in fact you may tell her things you do not even know you told her.”

Annihilius shook his head at the random babblings of the man. “It is not enough, my former master that you die. Humbling a mindless fool is not a worthy challenge. You will know who the better man is and you will know what you have wrought here!” He tossed back his cloak and flexes his hands. “It is a pity that one of your Jedi healers is not here. I was never particular good at healing as a Jedi, and I assure you, the Dark Side is not a kind mistress. The sad truth is that even if one of your healers were here. You would likely smite the poor fool out of existence for even the exercise.”

His eyes turned to tiny slits as his lips curled into a smile, and a wave of energy began to coalesce inside of him. Deep black energy that told him that his enemies were still all around, his wife had betrayed him like a whore, that his friends left him to die, and that his former master feared that he would be greater then all the Jedi combined. In a rush he released all of this into the mind and body of Luke Skywalker.

Luke fell to his knees screaming until his voice could no longer be heard, his lost memories unleashed upon his mind. His first memory of a small boy on Tatooine, the first time he met Obi-Wan, Artoo, Threepio, Han, Chewbacca, Leia, and the loss of friends and more friends. His first taste of pain from his father, and then the feeling of deep sadness and love as he brought his father back from the Dark side. Then the memories of C’Boath, Kyp, Jacen, Jaina, Anakin and finally Mara. His time in the war with the Vong and the loss of more friends but the joy of seeing the birth of a new Skywalker in Ben. The battles between the Joiners, the Chiss, and other entities, Han’s heroic death saving Mara and Ben, finally the betrayal of his wayward student, Corrinar and then, and then...nothing. All this and more flooded into his mind, and for what seemed like a millennia he was silent and bowed.

Then his eyes looked over to the flame haired woman, and he scrabbled to her body. His tears fell freely as he cradled her head in his arms, rocking her gently. His hands shook as he smoothed her hair, and whispered forgiveness into her deaf ears.

“Mara, what have I...what ...how, Mara please tell me.” Luke moaned as he curled his body around her, drawing from the Force to do something, anything.

“There is no power in the universe to bring back the dead, Skywalker. You of all people should know this.” Annihilius said as he shook his head.

Luke raised his head, anger blazing in his eyes. “You did this, you monster and for that I will...”

“I would love to claim all this...” He said motioning his arms to the temple and the bodies. “...think harder, your mind is no longer muddled, no longer protecting you from the truth.”

Luke’s face contorted into a snarl, then the last memory struck him. Sweat beaded upon his forehead as he wiped his hand across it and the smell of caked blood mixed with his own sweat sliced through the final veil.

He remembers more then a month ago talking to Jacen, discussing the nature of the Force and this unifying theory he had. After all the events of the Vong, the Joiners, and threats from within and now the coming of a Sith lord that had come to dominate nearly a quarter of the galaxy, Jacen’s thoughts of purging what is to be the greatest threat the Jedi had, have, and will ever face was tempting. He remembers at heart disagreeing but that if they could expunge the Force of such an obvious threat to all that was good, what harm could come of it? What harm indeed.

“What harm indeed, Skywalker.” Annihilius mused as his ears picked up the distinct whine of a craft landing.

Luke stared at the expanse beyond Mara, and saw the bodies of everyone. He knew that what had finally happened. He killed them. He killed them when Jacen, Jaina and others tried to expunge the Dark Side from the Force, and then for no reason it retaliated. Not a living presence, not like anything they knew or felt ever. Retaliated. Lashed out, through him. It was a clear indication they had tread upon where they were not wanted. Luke struggled to remember specifics but it was not needed. Mara’s eyes told the entire story, in a single instant of what happened. He broke down crying, his head in his hands, tears streaming through his fingers. He reached out through the Force and felt a small ray of hope enter the Temple.

“Father?” The figure said as it stared at the carnage that reflected in his blue eyes. He wasn’t a tall man, but he held his standing with a keen footing. His red hair was strained by the years in the sun and had mellowed to a shade of orange. He had been gone for two months on a mission in the deep Outer Rim territories when less then a month ago, he felt a sharp pain. Helping out a settlement of Bothans, he tried to move a boulder but suddenly a immense pain welled inside of him when he drew upon the Force. This prompted him to bid the settlers goodbye as he needed to tell his father this event, and hoped to divine what had happened. Ben Skywalker saw where his father crouched and begin to move but his legs would not move.

“Ben, please leave...” Luke croaked as he began to pick himself up, he could feel the air crackle as a lightsaber came into existence.

“Father?” Luke stared at Mara, closed his eyes and stood fully erect.

“Ben.” Another hiss of a blade coming into existence as Luke began to drink deeply into the Force, driving his soul through the razors, ignoring the screams of the dead and focusing on the last living thing he cared for.

“Yes?”

“Leave!” Luke said as he swept his blade onto the head of the adversary. A red blade intercepted and pushed away the death blow, with the Sith lord smiling.

Ben for his part was transfixed as he saw the two combatants for the merest second weigh each other. Luke stood with his feet planted balancing himself and gripping his blade with both hands, centered to his body. His adversary had no response, except the blade was held at a slight angle with a single hand, his posture relaxed. Before his eyes caught the sight his ears heard a crash. Energy meeting energy, unrelenting power meeting the unmovable object. Ben winced at the noise as it built to a high whine as the blades gave no ground.

To understand what Luke had become one has to look at the merging of styles he used. He whirled with no sense of consistent pattern, an unknown style of staccato style. Nothing of Kenobi’s calm defense, Yoda’s erratic offense, Vader’s punishing attacks, Palpatine’s outrageous speed came through him. Instead it looked more to be melding, yet to a fine and honed eye fluid. In many ways he had attained what many Jedi aspire to, no true style except to adapt. Only two type of fighters use a style so ambiguous; the very stupid or the very talented. Luke clearly was the latter, and he had honed beyond any of his students dared imagined. Still, this advantage seemed to matter little to none to the dark figure challenging him. For every thrust, a parry; for every slash a riposte. The way the dark man stood belied the amount of power he held within and displayed a frightening level of control. Not once in the mere seconds did the man move in any way except his arm. For the first time, Ben Skywalker felt fear for his father.

Luke stepped gingerly around his opponent so that his back was to Ben; his foe simply stood his ground. Then as Skywalker moved towards his son, the red blade lashed out to his right, Luke barely catching it. Then a left and a right again. Each time a deflection at the last possible second, each time more power brought to bear. Luke snapped his blade forward, thrusting into the darkness only to have it caught by a downward parry, missing the being’s heart by scant centimeters. Luke moved into the blow forcing his opponent to either give ground or feel the blade. Instead of giving ground the being merely forced Luke aside with his strength, and twirled his blade up and proceeded with a horizontal slash to his head. Ducking under the blow, Luke missed the oncoming hand that reached from the depths that exploded with energy. He caught the entire blast in his face, which effortlessly tossed him into a tapestry and burned his eyes.

Luke rolled off the wall, and got to his feet as Annihilius rammed his shoulder into....nothing. Luke held his hand out grabbing the air around the Sith lord and held him for the briefest of seconds as he moved out of the way. Annihilius gave a curt smile as his saber thrusted from his dark mass at Skywalker, who brought his with an aggressive response. His blade wove a web of responses to Skywalker’s thrusts that gave no hints or advantages, but never once penetrated Luke’s defense either. Another slash, another parry and the dark power rose and screamed inside the warrior as he roared at Luke pounding at the Jedi’s limited defense. Each blow Luke countered and felt the Force wane ever so slightly, so he gave ground. He gave ground from the entrance of the temple, away from Mara, away from the others, away from Ben.

Annihilius recognized this and began his next onslaught, with more fury, more anger but nothing clouded his mind to his ultimate objective. He continued his barrage of slashes until he was within the inner circle of Luke’s defense and inexplicably locked their swords on their right side. Luke thrusted his left hand out trying to hurl him off, but was blocked by Annihilius own attempts to hurl lightning into Skywalker. Ben watched as the contest of will began. On one side Luke channeling everything he has, his hair drawing white from the exertion. On the other the shadow funneling every bit of wrath and hatred he has to his former master, paying for each second in blood. It looked to hold each other, then Ben noticed for the briefest second something flashed across his father’s face; a smile. Luke held back and bended with the flow of Annihilius onslaught, and as it reached it’s climax he struck. Luke let the idea flow that he had lost, bended to a superior will, instead allowed the dark man open himself to his lightsaber. With a single twirl of his wrist he thrusted his green sword deep into Annihilius’ chest. For a second the Sith lord looked at the wound with shock and awe and simply crumpled. Luke closed his eyes in shame as he turned and looked at his son.

“Father!” Ben yelled rushing and then stopped. For a brief second Luke feared he had changed again or something worse. Then he realized it wasn’t that at all. In his chest he felt cold, yet warm. He could feel his heart die, his lungs begin to collapse and worst of all the Force begin to destroy his soul. He didn’t need to know what the specific was happening, all he knew is he had lost. And if he did not do something Ben would be next.

“Run Ben run!” He said with a final breath. Ben nodded silently and charged out the way he came as he felt the Force gather into a well spring around the two bodies. Luke could feel Annihilius ripping into him, but it was distant now, as if it were happening to another person. In the end, it mattered so little what would happen to this body, all that mattered was his son would survive, the Jedi would survive and no one would ever make such a foolish mistake again.

The wind turned into fire, liquefying everything around it. A bolt of energy erupted from Luke that blazed through the temple, and to the heavens blinding anyone who even saw it for a mere second, and the planet below the two rumbled and shrieked as it came apart. Molten earth began to spew everywhere, destroying all under it’s touch as the green rain halted and the bringers of destruction fled.

As Ben maneuvered his small craft, he took one brief glimpse back to the planet as it turned from a lush green to a burning red. He dreaded the thought that he would not get out in time, but as he waited for the explosion he saw the entire planet glow white and then nothing. Whatever was there has shimmered into nonexistence. He simply slumped against the controls as his craft leapt into Hyperspace and the unknown.

[Kuja]

Awesome mindfuck, and wicked fight. I like it.

[Noble Ire]

Very good.
An interesting and well executed premise, although the softy in me hoped for a different conculsion. Oh well, win some, lose some.