#coruscant stronghold
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I decided Nadia Grell would want a new outfit
Obviously, its Satele Shan’s armor set in the game, albeit dyed.
Nadia’s interactions with Satele in the game story are brief, but its clear she reveres the Grandmaster. It would make sense she’d emulate Satele, especially given that Nadia is also a double-sided lightsaber user.
(The robes she normally wears is just so ‘meh’ to me.)
Thoughts?
#swtorpadawan talks#nadia grell#satele shan#satele shan armor set#swtor companions#swtor companion outfits#coruscant stronghold#jedi consular
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Figured I could share how my main stronghold (imp fleet) looks like :o
#well main but also one of the few that are somewhat fully decorated#might also share my coruscant one#idk how i tag it#stronghold showcase#i guess coz i might post more#very unsure of the section with the dom statue but i didnt really have anything better maybe ill change it at some poitn
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Title: Little Wooden Lightsaber Boy
Fandom: Star Wars Rebels
Rating: K+
Pairing/Relationships: Ezra/Sabine
Character(s): Sabine Wren, Tristan Wren, Alrich Wren, Ursa Wren, Tiber Saxon, Darth Maul, Ezra Bridger, Kanan Jarrus, Hera Syndulla
Genre: Romance/Drama
Summary: Life Day at the Wren stronghold is always a big affair, and this year Sabine gets a very special present--a little wooden figure of a handsome Jedi general. Nutcracker AU.
AO3, FFNet
@sabezra-life-day-celebration
It's late, because surprise surprise I had a plot bunny bite my ankle and get Ambitious, but here is my fic for Sabezra Life Day Celebration. Hope you all enjoy!
---
Sabine loved the winter holidays.
It was one of the only times in the year the Wren Stronghold came alight with color and music, the normally dour gray halls festooned with green garlands and red ribbons, bright glowing glass orbs nestled in the branches of the enormous evergreen tree she and her extended family went out and cut down each year, hauling into the great hall with laughter and a unity of purpose. The fires stayed burning almost all night and her father piped festive songs and carols from giant speakers in his artist studio, the notes carrying down the halls and making the frozen palace alive and breathing with warmth.
She sat at one of the long tables now, a piece specially set out for the occasion, crowded between a half-dozen like it and covered with a soft, immaculately white tablecloth the color of the falling snow. Her fingers itched to draw, as she took in the twinkling splendor of the Life Day tree, glimmering yellow and violet and green and orange-gold in the corner.
It was technically a Wookie holiday, Life Day, but since the end of the Clone Wars and the victory of Coruscant, the winter celebration had spread throughout the galaxy, each planet in the Republic popping up with their own traditions and customs. Sabine had only been a toddler, but all her life she'd heard the stories—about how the Jedi Order bravely uncovered a horrible Sith plot, overthrew the Chancellor and installed a new era of peace and prosperity.
A prosperity they were heartily enjoying now, she thought, eyeing the platter of roast nerf ribs being passed down the table.
She grabbed a chunk from the platter and bit into it eagerly, the warm seasoned juices filling her mouth.
"Sabine!" her mother chided, from her spot at the head of the table, a place of prominence befitting the Countess. "Manners!"
Sabine grabbed up her napkin and wiped her chin, grinning cheekily at Ursa as the festivities carried on. Her favorite part of the night was coming up—the traditional Mandalorian dances and gift exchange. They had to entertain a few other clans this year—the stronghold was quite crowded—so she and Tristan had promised to be each other's dance partners all night, to stave off any untoward attempts to seduce either of them, any political proposals that might have been sprung on them unexpectedly.
Her brother was already reaching for her hand, urging her out onto the dance floor in the center of the Great Hall. Sabine took one last bite of succulent rib roast, then put her hand and her trust in Tristan, who led her to the center of the floor and kept close to her as the music grew louder.
"So far so good," he quipped to her, as the music played on, loud and raucous as only a Mandalorian celebration could be, bodies breaking off from the dining tables and joining them on the dance floor. "I don't think I've seen a clan head look your way yet," he continued, teasing.
Sabine rolled her eyes with long-suffering affection. "Let's try to keep it that way," she said.
She stayed close to her brother as the night and the party drew on. Her father eventually emerged from his studio, beaming brightly as he presented Tristan and Sabine and the other young clan heirs with their gifts. Sabine accepted the brightly-wrapped package eagerly.
She tore the paper, the gilded green and gold coming off the box easily under her hands. She carefully lifted the lid of the white box and set it aside, gasping as she saw the contents.
A beautifully carved and painted wooden figure lay in the tissue paper. Sabine marveled at her father's craftmanship. The figure was immaculately designed, styled to look like an armored Jedi Knight from the Clone Wars, with a smart-looking blue hauberk and tabbards, orange piping along the sides of its tunic and leggings. It had a handsome tan face and bold black dots for eyes, and the hair was a blue-lined black painted on the back of its head. It had a prominent hinged jaw, a wood piece that connected to a lever in its back. Sabine carefully lifted the figure out of its packaging and worked the lever, seeing how the device fit together.
It was a nutcracker. A decorative kitchen tool, meant to crush the hard shells of koja and areca and a bevy of other species.
Sabine breathlessly thanked her father, one arm squeezing around him while the other clung to her prize.
"He's beautiful!" she told him, gazing once again with admiration at the little carved figure.
Alrich beamed with pride, launching into a prepared explanation of his artistic process, pointing at various parts of the nutcracker and explaining them.
Sabine listened with rapt attention, the artist in her appreciative and impressed. The gift exchange done, she dismissed herself from her father's presence, sitting back down at her place at the table and just watching the party continue on, late, late into the night as the fires popped and the drinks flowed freely.
Her gaze kept straying to her nutcracker, and more than once she let her fingers feather over the fine details, the meticulously painted golden fasteners and the sweeping lines that delineated armor pieces.
She was so caught up by the workmanship that she didn't notice when her distant cousin, Tiber of Clan Saxon, darkened her shoulder, not until he snatched the wooden figure from her hands and brought it up to his face to sneer at it.
"A little old to be playing with dolls aren't you, Miss Wren?" he huffed.
Sabine's mouth soured immediately, and she made a grab for her father's present. "Give that back!" she demanded. "It's mine!"
Tiber held it away from her, at arm's length with a curdled disdain. "What is this even supposed to be?" he asked snidely.
Sabine glared icily. "It's a Jedi General," she told the older man, hotly. "Give it back."
Tiber dodged the swipe she made for it with her hand, stepping away from the table. "Poor craftsmanship to fit a poorer subject matter," he dismissed. "What paltry Clan Wren trash."
Sabine watched in horror as he dropped her gift carelessly on the ground and stomped on it with his metal-lined boot.
"Hey!" she objected in distress, diving for her nutcracker.
Tiber was already stalking off, exiting the hall with a handful of his entourage, not even paying her a spare glance behind. Sabine glowered darkly as she carefully cradled her nutcracker to her chest, brushing off the scuff marks Tiber had left in the paint.
Her heart panged in dismay as she found that she couldn't erase a couple of the scratches. They dug into the wood of the figure's cheek, two ugly lines that marred her Jedi's smiling face.
Sabine tried her best to smooth out the gouges but it was no use, and she bit her lip, holding back her emotions.
As if sensing her sorrow, her father appeared at her shoulder.
"What's wrong, Sabine?" he asked, brown eyes full of concern.
Her mouth pinched and twisted as she explained, holding out the nutcracker to him. "Look what Tiber did to your work!" she complained, eyes stinging, blinking hard.
Alrich took the wooden figure gently in his hands, making a quick scan of the damage.
After a moment he smiled.
"Oh that's not so bad," he said. From his pocket he pulled out a little white helmet, styled after the clones of the 501st, Skywalker's Fist. He slid the wooden helmet into place on the nutcracker's head. "See? He's all right," he assured her, handing it back.
Sabine took the nutcracker in her hands, begrudgingly admitting to herself that the helmet suited the little wooden figure, made it look a little more authentic and complete. She cradled the wooden man to her chest, vowing not to let it out of her sight, holding it like a precious jewel against her body.
She stayed far away from the members of Clan Saxon the rest of the night.
***
The fires were low-burning embers and coals, the hall growing cold and dark, by the time the party finally wound down. Sabine bade goodnight to her family—and her nutcracker, giving it a little kiss on the helmet before stowing it safely away in one of the armor cabinets—and retired to bed.
Alone in her room, however, watching the starlight and falling snow outside, Sabine found herself too wound-up to sleep. A strange agitation kept her awake, tossing and turning long hours until she gave up and rolled out of bed.
For a while she painted, scratching her brushes on a canvas with idle consideration. Nothing really emerged from her footling, mostly just abstract ideas here and there. Biting the end of her paintbrush she decided she needed a little more inspiration.
She grabbed one of her spare sketchbooks, slid a thick brocaded robe on over her shoulders and short silken nightdress, slipped her feet into her house slippers and stole down the dark quiet hallways back to the great hall.
The room glowed with soft multicolor light from the glass orbs in the tree. There was a soothing, peaceful kind of silence to the room. Sabine liked how the glow bounced off the walls, played with the edges of the transparisteel panels of the windows.
She sat and sketched the tree for a few moments, enjoying the quiet scritch of her pencil on the paper.
Her eyes stole towards the armor cabinet in the corner. It held her mother and father's ceremonial beskar, and now it kept her nutcracker safe. Sabine felt an urge to get it out again, and didn't resist that urge. She crept to the cabinet, stepping softly even though she didn't have to, even though everyone else in the stronghold was probably asleep, grabbing the clutch and lifting it, making the hinges squeak as she opened the door.
Her father's gift was right where she left it. Sabine reached for him and sighed in awe of the craftmanship yet again, holding the wooden figure against her stomach with a tight embrace.
She walked back over to the throne on the dais at the other end of the room, sinking onto the comfortable cushion and just... letting the quiet fill her. The warm glow from the tree, the stillness, it was a better lullaby to her over-excited mind than anything else.
She found herself curling up on the long cushion, nutcracker tucked under her arm and robe draping over her feet, her breaths growing deeper...
***
She woke, groggy and confused, in the wee hours of the night, with that agitation back, along with a strange sense of unease.
Sabine blinked, squinting through the dark. The warmth of the tree wasn't reaching her anymore, and she shivered, tucking her arms inside her robe as she sat up.
As she was trying to pinpoint the cause of her apprehension, there was a scurrying of shadows in the corner of her eye.
Sabine's head whipped in that direction, her eyes straining, but she couldn't see anything.
She stepped down from the dais to the floor, glancing warily around.
Pinpricks raised on her arms, her unease growing. She still couldn't see any danger but...
Wait, where was her nutcracker?
Sabine's chest jolted with a shot of panic as she realized her father's gift wasn't with her, wasn't on the throne where she'd left it. As her head whipped around in search of it, something else alarming caught her attention.
She tilted her head back, eyes squinching in confusion.
Was the tree... bigger?
No, she realized, glancing back towards the dais and mentally measuring the height of the steps. She was smaller. And not just smaller, she was shrinking.
Alarmed, Sabine gaped up at the tree now towering above her, massive. The delicate glass baubles now looked like huge boulders, the pines as large as spears. Her chest clutched and she staggered back in disbelief, gawking about her now-giant surroundings.
"No no no no, this can't be happening," she said in a small, panicked voice. She was having some kind of horrible dream. This couldn't be real.
It felt terribly real.
As Sabine clutched arms around herself, willing herself to wake up, the scurrying shadows returned, vague shapes taking form in the darkness all around her.
She backed up, and backed up, but didn't miss how the shadows coalesced into humanoid figures. A face emerged from the darkness, malicious, skin shockingly patterned in red and black, with eerie yellow-gold eyes and a head ringed with horns like some kind of twisted crown.
Sabine's breath hitched and she stiffened, recognizing the face from old historical holos.
The face came with a snide voice.
"This is the heir to Clan Wren?" The figure she could now identify as a Zabrak shook his head condescendingly. "How disappointing. Mandalore has fallen far indeed since I ruled it."
Her teeth ground stubbornly, fear disappearing behind a glare as she put a name to the ugly face. The Usurper of Sundari, the head of Crimson Dawn, a menace and a thorn in Mandalore's side for years. What was he doing in the stronghold?
"Unshrink me and then get out of my house!" she demanded.
Maul pinned her with a malicious sneer. "No," he said, chillingly. "Tonight... I will take my revenge on all the clans that betrayed and unseated me."
Sabine would have snorted and rolled her eyes, made a smart comment about how ridiculous a notion that was given that they were both apparently a foot tall, but then Maul pulled out a wicked-looking silver hilt and ignited it in a red flash.
Her throat caught, eyes widening at the crimson lightsaber blade, humming ominously. Behind the Sith came armor-clad figures from the shadows, Mandalorian warriors arrayed with the colors of their lord, Maul's underlings. She backed up again, apprehensively, heart pounding, trying to remember how to wake herself up because surely this had to be some kind of nightmare.
Maul savored her moment of terror, raising his saber and beginning to charge for her.
Sabine braced herself to fling back—
Something leapt through the air to land in-between them, a blue-clad figure that held up its own hilt and ignited it with a burst of blazing bright green.
Her eyes widened further, a thrill and sense of awe moving through her.
It was her nutcracker, no longer still and wooden and tiny, but moving, made of flesh, and her size.
Shockingly alive.
Maul seemed only mildly perturbed by the interference, frowning in displeasure before motioning his troops forward.
"Kill the Wren heir," he ordered. "The Jedi is mine."
The Mandos rushed forward past him, surging towards her in a charge. Her nutcracker intercepted them first, green blade slashing out, striking armor and limbs. Many of them surrounded him, leveling their blasters at his helmeted head. With an elegant precision she had only seen in holos he deflected red shots off his blade, air filling with the cacophony of laserfire.
For a moment Sabine was pinned in place, frozen with horrible indecision—she had no weapons and there was no way she'd fit into her parents' beskar as she was, if she could even reach the handle for the cabinet—but then she tightened her fists and steeled her resolve. She was Mandalorian. Her very body was a weapon.
The first soldier that made it past her nutcracker's guard to attack her got his knee kicked in for his trouble. Sabine drew back her elbow and slammed it across the helmeted face, snapping his head aside.
He crumpled, and she picked up his heavy sidearm, taking aim at the other warriors, shooting them with indiscriminate desperation.
One went down, two more were distracted enough by the hits she landed that they were easy pickings for her nutcracker Jedi General's emerald blade, falling with loud pained cries as the lightsaber pierced them.
Sensing movement at her right, Sabine whipped around, firing, only to feel the blaster ripped from her hands by an unseen force.
She gasped, stumbling upright, looking up at the cruel yellow eyes of Maul as he raised his glowing red blade vindictively.
It started to fall.
Sabine flinched, but a second later a green blade blocked the red one, her nutcracker moving quickly to protect her, breathing hard inside his clone trooper helmet.
Maul's face twisted in rage and he shoved the other man off, attacking viciously, blade crashing again and again in heavy overhead blows upon her nutcracker's guard.
Sabine looked around for another weapon, but she couldn't find one—the other Mandalorians lay dead on the ground but their blasters were missing, nowhere to be found. Her Jedi was panting audibly now even across the distance, fatigue evident in his movements, slowly giving ground to the Sith Lord's onslaught.
He blocked again and again but the attack was merciless, coming harder and faster as Maul's face screwed with fury, bearing down on him.
Sabine watched with horror as her nutcracker Jedi was forced to his knees, kicked hard in the chin and sent falling to the ground. Maul crowed in victory, raising his saber for the final blow.
"No!" she cried, rushing forward, pulling one of her house slippers off and leaping at Maul's back, beaning him hard in the neck with the leather-tipped sole. "Leave him alone!"
Maul grunted, taken aback by her assault, and the hard heel whacked solidly against his back and head as she slammed the slipper into him, beating at him desperately with all her strength.
A hand like a steel timber caught her chest and pushed her back, sent her stumbling but not falling. Sabine looked up defiantly into the red-rimmed yellow eyes that boiled with anger at her.
Those eyes turned away as the hum of the green saber vibrated from behind. Maul angled to address the threat, red saber lifted but... stiffened. The yellow Sith eyes went wide as he and Sabine realized where the emerald blade had stuck.
Dead center in the Zabrak's chest. A fatal, killing blow.
Her nutcracker pushed the blade in slightly deeper, eliciting a dying gasp from Maul, who dropped his saber and clutched at the Jedi's own, expression in disbelief and shock as the other man twisted him around, away from Sabine, his body speared on the tip of the green blade as her nutcracker crouched protectively in front of her.
The Sith slid off the blade with a dying gasp, crumpling into a heap on the ground. He stilled, and moved no more.
The green blade extinguished.
The heavily-breathing figure stayed curled in his crouch for a long time, long enough that Sabine began to worry if he was injured, but then he straightened, drawing her immediate attention.
Sabine watched, heart still rapidly thumping, as her nutcracker rose up, hands reaching softly for the edges of his clone trooper helmet.
The helmet was slipped off, gently, revealing soft blue-tinted dark hair. The boy—for it was unmistakably a boy now, young, about her age—seemed to contemplate and study his own helmet for several seconds.
Then, he tucked the helmet under his arm and turned towards her.
Sabine started, her heart and throat catching.
Oh. Oh he was cute.
Boyish, lazy half-smile, tanned skin the color of warm amber, shockingly electric blue eyes that she found absolutely mesmerizing.
Sabine swallowed, feeling at a loss for words.
Her nutcracker spoke, instead.
"Thanks," he said, dipping his head respectfully, in gratitude. "You saved my life. I couldn't have beaten him without your help."
"It was nothing," she heard herself saying in a daze, the words floating around her. "Couldn't let my favorite Life Day present get shanked by an actual demon."
His smile widened, teeth bright white against his darker skin and she almost melted. Sabine shook herself, chiding herself for being so overtaken by a pretty face, and slowly approached him.
The closing proximity still made her heart thud, painful in her chest. She willed herself to be calm as she reached him. Her hand drifted up towards his cheek, touching twin thin red scars that mirrored the scratches Tiber had inflicted upon her nutcracker, what seemed like a distant eternity ago.
"Sorry about those," she muttered. "Tiber was a jerk."
He shrugged, nonchalantly. "Happens when you're stuck in a twelve inch wooden body," he dismissed. Blue eyes sparkling, he held his hand out to her. "Hey, you wanna get away tonight?"
"Get away?" she repeated, absently, still entranced by his face and smile and shining eyes.
"Yeah," he confirmed. "Come with me. I want you to meet my folks."
Head reeling, Sabine found herself nonetheless placing her hand in his. "Moving a little fast, aren't we?" she said. Her body pulsed with electricity, with adrenaline, with a thrilling exhilaration she couldn't put a name to or define. "I don't even know your name..." she trailed.
"It's Ezra," he offered up, so very casually, as he began to lead her into a white snowy mist that had suddenly appeared around them. "Ezra Bridger."
"Sabine," she told him, blushing as she stared at their entwined hands. "My name's Sabine."
***
The white twinkling snow-covered wonderland he led her out the door into couldn't have been Krownest, she determined. The trees had never sparkled so brightly, the sun had never been so warm and yellow. There had never been such a rainbow of color glittering in the depths of the snow.
There had certainly never been any green-skinned Twi'leks with glimmering translucent wings living in the woods around the stronghold, and yet that was exactly who met them now, bare green arms reaching for Ezra's face like a fretful mother's, worried green eyes searching him.
"Are you hurt?" she asked anxiously, and for the first time he let Sabine's hand fall, reached to embrace the woman and reassure her.
"I'm all right, Hera," he said. "Sabine here protected me."
The woman—fairy?—turned to Sabine, who pushed her bangs out of her face self-consciously, feeling awkward.
A warm smile lit the woman's expression.
"Thank you," she said. "We owe you a debt of gratitude."
Sabine shrugged, making a noncommittal sound. There were other beings starting to crowd around her, aliens of every kind, all sporting the same kind of shimmering frost-covered wings the Twi'lek woman had. She was clearly their leader, and she clapped her hands to call for attention.
"Everyone, everyone!" she addressed. "Let's not overwhelm her." The warm smile turned on Sabine again, as Hera extended a hand and placed it on her shoulder. "Would you like to join us for the Life Day feast?" she asked. "It's the least we can do to thank you."
Sabine's mind was still reeling, still convinced she was half-dreaming, but she nodded mutely, gawping, trying to take everything in. There was a man hovering by Hera's shoulder, teal-eyed and broad-shouldered, and he nodded at her in acknowledgement and respect as Ezra led her past him.
Her nutcracker brought her to a brightly-lit clearing, where dozens of beings milled about, dancing, singing. It didn't seem like they were on Krownest anymore, at least not from the gray-green moss-covered walls of stone, rising up all around her.
What followed next was the most wonderful dream. A festive party was conducted before her eyes, full of more color and life than she'd ever seen. Hera and her partner—a man she learned was called Kanan—asked her a million questions she couldn't keep up with, made Ezra recount the story of how she had bravely saved him a dozen times. Spectators to the story ooh-ed and aah-ed appreciatively at the the appropriate dramatic places. Ezra himself stayed by her side the whole time, hand clutched tight around hers.
Sabine's heart stuttered and stammered. She traced the edges of Ezra's face with her eyes, watched every small movement of his face as he rambled amiably with the others, greeted each party guest with a smile and a joke to set them at ease. A longing tugged at her chest, painful in how much she wanted this, wanted to stay with him in this wonderful, magical, inexplicable moment of surreal joy and light.
He seemed to sense her troubled heart, looking over at her in concern.
"Hey, are you okay?" he asked.
Sabine felt a shudder run through her whole body, felt herself gripping tighter to his hand.
"I just..." she said, trailing off with a dry throat, suddenly fearful. "I don't want this to end."
His reassuring smile lit up the depths of her heart, filled her with a giddy rush. "I'm not going anywhere, Sabine," he promised. "I'll stay right here."
Her chest clenched, eyes stung as she held back tears.
The celebration wound down, the brightly diverse figures slowly ceding space to Hera and Kanan, who danced intimately in the center of the floor, entwined in a way that made Sabine jealous. When the music ended, there was a certain finality to it, and Sabine felt herself already missing the music and light of the party, so different from how her family had conducted it, but beautiful and wonderful all the same.
Ezra pulled her up from their seats and guided her onto the back of a leathery-hided creature, helping her into a gilded seat strapped upon it. The creature bellowed, low and mellow, filling Sabine with a giddy high of adrenaline.
"I don't want this to end," she said again, thrilling as Ezra came to sit beside her on the purrgil.
His smile was thinner now, bittersweet. "You have to wake up, Sabine," he told her. "You can't stay here."
"Will I see you again?" she asked anxiously, clinging to him like he would slip away if she let go.
A small nod, so slight and imperceptible she almost missed it. "Trust in the Force," he whispered, and then the purrgil was lifting off, the snow-covered ground was falling away below them and her eyes were filled with twinkling blue stars in a winter sky.
Giddy, she felt a rush of speed press against her front, blue glowing hyperspace filling her eyes, hurtling her forward into the cosmos, into a warm ether that felt like home.
***
Sabine stirred stiffly, blinking her eyes open at the white morning light that was falling into her face.
Confused, she took in the quiet great hall. The tree in the corner was normal-sized, the tables were all still there, cleared off and pushed to the sides like they had been when she'd stolen down there.
Her nutcracker was by her side, underneath her arm.
Feeling a great sinking disappointment, Sabine sat up, a groaning sigh escaping her.
"Oh don't tell me it was all just a dream..." she moaned, holding up her nutcracker. His black dot eyes stared back at her, painted smile still and friendly.
Sabine pressed her lips tight, heart and mood drooping, trying to remember every second of her time with Ezra. His warm easy nature, bright smile, handsome face, eyes blue as hyperspace, how quickly he laughed and how wonderful it sounded when he did.
Great. He'd ruined her for other men and he wasn't even real.
Dismally, Sabine gathered herself up, picking up her sketchbook and starting to head for her bedroom.
Voices from the entrance hall caught her attention, as she was moving through the passage. Her mother and father, talking in a low voice to someone standing just inside the door.
"Last night, you said?" Ursa was saying, sounding concerned.
"Yes Countess, we believe he used Dathomirian Nightsister magick to conduct his attack," replied the visitor.
Wait a minute... that was Kanan's voice.
Breath hitched, Sabine crept closer to the entrance hall, now fully alert and tuned into the conversation. She peeked around the corner, spying her parents and a pair of strangers in brown robes. She only see Kanan—and yes it was him—through the gap left by her parents' backs. She couldn't see her father's face but from his troubled tone she knew he was frowning, brows wrinkled.
"Several of the clan heirs mentioned having nightmares last night," Alrich said. Sabine slipped into the room, walking up behind her father, pulse rapid, trying to peek around him. "You're saying that was actually part of a psychic assault?" he asked.
"It was," Kanan confirmed, nodding gravely. "My padawan and I did our best to minimize the damage and protect your minds."
She had a view of the other visitor now, and her eyes slid off Kanan to him as Kanan spoke.
She forgot how to breathe, her chest swelling, head tingling.
Soft dark hair, thin padawan braid tucked in behind his right ear. Mesmerizing blue eyes that met hers across the way, pinching with concern. Amber skin, marred by two twin scars across his left cheek.
Sabine reeled. She felt light, lighter than air. Her nutcracker Jedi stood there before her, real and breathtaking. Surely he felt her elation, for the corners of his mouth twitched, confirming her recognition, that he knew she knew he was the one who had come to her rescue, held her hand, taken her on a such wonderful starlit journey.
Dropping her sketchbook and Ezra's miniature wooden replica she rushed forward, flinging herself into him, crashing her lips against his and kissing hard.
He yelped in surprise, jolting, and Ursa gave a scandalized and embarrassed, "Sabine!" behind her.
---
Sabine: *meets cute Jedi boy, immediately causes political incident*
How did Alrich manage to style his nutcracker almost exactly like Ezra? IDK, weird Force stuff or something, we're coasting mostly on Vibes here don't look at me for a logical explanation lol.
Thanks for reading!
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So after all my griping and grousing about stronghold struggles, I'm actually really delighted with how the revamped place is looking, go figure!
So yes, here's an approximation of what Cas' and Scourge's living space on Odessen should look like (pretend it's not on Coruscant. Also pretend there's a refresher attached somewhere. SWTOR NEEDS TO LET US BE DOMESTIC GOSH). It's meant to be high up in the Alliance base, with lots of windows so they can enjoy the view.
I think I'm going to try and make some detail gifs to highlight certain things because I managed to cram quite a bit of meaning into the decor I used, but for now, screenshots!
#swtor#swtor strongholds#swtor building#swtor screenshots#star wars the old republic#swtor:caspian#kem oc#kem screenshots#kem does swtor building#take two with better screenshots and a few more things i added
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SW:TOR OC: Vada Z'Elion
Colonel Vada Z'Elion - Republic Trooper (Mercenary) - Class Story Compliant, Outlander
Species: Human (Cyborg)
Age: 27 at the end of class story.
Allegiances: Galactic Republic, Republic Military (Havoc Squad)
Planet: Coruscant Stronghold
Alignment: Light-Side
Romance: Lana Beniko, Elara Dorne, Ava Jaxo, others (polyamorous lesbian)
Connections: Aric Jorgan (XO, strong platonic), Jean Larranis (Adoptive Father), Neqian Zur (Acquaintance), Sazari Ashago (Past Friendship), Theron Shan (Strong Platonic), Senya Tirall (Strong Platonic), Arcann Tirall (Strong Platonic)
Biography
Born in 10 BTC, Vada Z'Elion has always been closely intertwined with Republic Military. As the daughter of a soldier serving on a base far removed from the front lines of the war, she spent a large part of her childhood there, with her father being a local civillian working with the base. She grew up in relative peace, and admired her mother, wanting to follow her footsteps one day.
This did not last- the base was eventually attacked in an Imperial effort to disrupt Republic supply lines. Though it was defended successfully, it was nearly destroyed - and left Vada orphaned overnight in the wake of the battle.
Seven years old at the time, she was put into the care of Jean Larranis, a friend of her mother's and teacher at the school the base had established. The both of them grew close very fast, being the only family either of them had left.
The death of her parents did nothing to stifle Vada's ambitions to become a soldier. Jean, being an ex-pilot with a very jaded view on the military, tried his very best to keep her away from this path, though he realised that in the end, it was not his decision to make. This led to Vada joining a school preparing aspiring future soldiers for the military academy when she turned 13. She thrived there, adapting to the environment quickly.
It was on a trip with this school that Vada's career almost came to an abrupt halt - a covert imperial sabotage operation meant to destroy the base the school was visiting left her caught in an explosion. She survived narrowly, suffering extensive hearing loss and blinding her left eye as well as earning her a distinctive burn scar across her left side and face.
Shortly after making her inital recovery though, she was approached by recruiters for the military academy - they had taken notice of her case and offered her restorative cybernetics - in case she still wanted to sign up.
Vada took the offer immediately - driving a wedge between her and Jean, who was furious with the proposal and its conditions, unwilling to see further harm be done to his loved ones in the name of the Republic war effort. And so, she departed without his approval, the two having barely spoken since. She became a model soldier, eager to prove herself and serve, overtaking her peers fast. Not unpopular but quiet and distanced, she didn't build many close relationships in her time there. After graduating, she served for two years on several different minor operations, eventually being recruited to Havoc Squad at the age of 24.
Quickly confronted with the messiness of real spec ops work, Vada now has to adapt to her new leadership role and reevaluate her own relationship to the military - and its values.
Personality
Traits: Calm, Considerate, Practical, Reserved, Protective
Values: Honesty, Kindness, Mutual Respect, Following the Law, Professionalism
Opposed to: Unneccessary/Excessive Violence, Discrimination, Abuse of Power, Secrecy, Unquestioning Loyalty
Miscellaneous
She is very calm and collected usually, having been taught to not raise her voice at others and control her anger well. Tanno Vik, however, has tested these boundaries beyond the breaking point before. Once.
Starting off her time in Havoc Squad following all orders without question, she grew stronger in her conviction to protect lives above all else over time, even going directly against Garza's orders on Taris, destroying the bioweapons she was supposed to secure for Republic Military.
With the start of the war, but especially after the events on A-77, Vada started learning about various philosophies in her off-time, growing particularly interested in Jedi teachings. She values the code as a good guideline for anyone with large amounts of power or responsibility, including herself.
She heavily dislikes talking about her feelings, often not feeling justified in her struggles and not wanting to burden others with her own issues, especially those working under her command - this has led to some strain in her relationship to her squad members.
On a more lighthearted note, she is a bit of a flirt and has had her fair share of flings. Of course, she would never flirt while on duty, though Seargent Jaxo has very nearly made her break that rule before.
She has absolutely horrrible taste in food, opting to eat plain rations, protein shakes and protein bars only unless someone (C2-N2) stops her.
She was a big fan of Jace Malcolm as a teen - especially after gaining her own scars. Though she is a bit embarassed about her idolisation of him now, she still owns a poster of him she has hidden away in a box of memorabilia.
#oc: vada#modoesart#swtor#ocstuff#sw:tor#swtor trooper#star wars the old republic#star wars#oc codex#swtor oc
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"The Empire's victory in the Battle of Hoth has brought hard times for the Rebel Alliance. Han Solo has been frozen in carbonite by Darth Vader, and two huge bounties have been placed on the head of Luke Skywalker. The Empire wants him alive, but Prince Xizor, underlord of the most powerful criminal organization in the galaxy, wants him dead. Worse still is that the diabolical Xizor is holding Princess Leia Organa prisoner in his castle on the Imperial Center of Coruscant. This is a tactical maneuver, part of a larger master plan to lure Skywalker into his castle where he can be easily eliminated -- the key step in Xizor's plan to replace Darth Vader at the Emperor's side. Unaware of this danger, the young Jedi and Lando Calrissian sneak into Imperial City hoping to rescue Leia. Simply laying foot on Coruscant is a dangerous act for these two: high on the Empire's list of most-wanted outlaws, they could be easily recognized and captured -- or assassinated. Disguising themselves as beggars, they "borrow" the armored uniforms from a pair of elite Coruscant stormtroopers. These troopers are some of the Empire's finest, selected as home guards for the wealthiest and most cultured city in the galaxy. Joining forces with Chewbacca and Dash Rendar, Skywalker and Calrissian attempt to infiltrate Xizor's nearly impenetrable stronghold and rescue the princess."
- Luke Skywalker In Imperial Guard Disguise. From Kenner's Shadows of the Empire toyline (1996).
#Star Wars#Original Trilogy#Expanded Universe#Legends#Kenner#action figure#toys#Luke Skywalker#Shadows of the Empire#1996
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night after night after night
day 3 prompts: post-war (no order 66 au), the sun
cross-posted to ao3 + codywan week22 masterlist !
wc: 1162
tags: fix-it, fluff, hurt / comfort
Obi-Wan Kenobi couldn’t quite remember at what point, exactly, that Commander Cody had not just become a Commander or the Commander but his Commander—and not in the way that implied at him reporting to Obi-Wan for the first half of the war.
The second half—well. The GAR bureaucracy was overworked and understaffed, everyone knew that; so if Obi-Wan happened to slip a few forms past various noses in order to promote Cody to equal status as Obi-Wan, well… who could say where such things went when they got lost after the initial automated approval? Not Obi-Wan, that was certain. It was out of his hands and completely and entirely up to the will of the Force. And the very helpful young trooper working at Coruscant Guard HQ that had a rather terrifying aptitude for gaming the GAR systems.
In any case, by the time Obi-Wan watched the dawn breaking over some no-name black-dust world, he was already quite certain that he was out of his depth. He had not just waded past the warning buoys but had, perhaps, quickly and joyously been caught up by the riptide and whisked out to the metaphorical sea.
Cody looked smug and sweaty in the morning sun. He nudged through the blown-out pieces of Grievous with the muzzle of his DC-17, hands sure on the grip. With Dooku tried in Republic court and Palpatine finally outed by an irate service droid as having been selling GAR secrets to the Separatists, Obi-Wan and the 212th had taken point on burning out the rest of their strongholds. It was grueling, slogging, thankless work, but now they could all see an end to it—an end to the war, to the hunger, to the cold nights lying awake listening to troopers singing a funereal Vode An after a bad engagement.
“Satisfied?” Obi-Wan asked, half his attention on the swarm of the troopers across the plains stretching out around them. Utapau was all red-orange rock and dust; this, its third satellite, had a crust comprised of a black, brittle mineral that flaked and crumbled under pressure and glittered like the wings of a beetle in the pale sunlight. They were all coated in a thin film of dust that shone like an oil slick in the morning.
“Almost.” Cody and Crys cleaned Grievous’ remains up with little fuss and the rest of the clean-up effort passed in a blur. Obi-Wan was starting to lean more and more heavily into the Force, blurring the edges of his own physical awareness in exchange for keeping his mind sharp. Heavy boulders had to be lifted from where the droid army had triggered explosions to crush larties; troopers had to be loaded onto stretchers for medevac and lost scouting parties had to be located and retrieved. The sun painted the plains around them with nearly silver light, young enough to be nearly blue, still.
He found Cody at the edge of their encampment hours later. Days here stretched long for the galactic average, and Longshot and a few others had been optimistic over their chances of getting back on their way to Coruscant by nightfall.
“General,” Cody said, bucket under one arm and curls in sweaty disarray. They were all a little disheveled—the pace of things had sped up, once the Separatist senate had signed an armistice but most of their Generals had continued to fight. Obi-Wan had found he’d not been the only one to be gripped with a strange sense of urgency, as if they didn’t end things now, then they would be frozen like this for the rest of their lives, in the between of war and peace and resolution.
“Commander,” Obi-Wan said, stepping up next to him and swaying into his space. He nudged a shoulder up against Cody’s spaulder and nearly got an antenna in the eye for his troubles. “Enjoying the view?”
Cody deliberately turned his head to the side to look at Obi-Wan, the lines carved at the corners of his eyes and mouth deep in the stark white sunlight. This was a world of austere beauty and contrasts: white sunlight, black dust, jagged rock cut out against a sky of a pale blue that was nearly pink.
“Yeah,” Cody said, still looking at Obi-Wan. “I am.”
Later, Obi-Wan sat on his bedroll while his Commander stripped off his tunics and obi and cleaned the stinging burns all across his shoulders and upper arms. Later, Obi-Wan helped his Commander unlatch and stack up every piece of his sun-golden armor and spread bacta over his black-violet bruises and brushed feather-light kisses to the bacta patches on his abdomen and side from their last engagement. Later, Obi-Wan knelt at his Cody’s feet and took his head in both hands, watching the brush of Cody’s ink-dark lashes over the tops of his cheekbones.
“The war is over, Cody,” Obi-Wan said, just to test the words out. He knew—logically—that it hadn’t been that long at all.
It had been their world for years, though. It had been their entire existence, not just the troopers’ but Obi-Wan’s as well, for who was he if he did not devote himself wholly and fully to his cause?
“The war is over,” Cody agreed, tilting his face into the dip of Obi-Wan’s palm and leaning his forehead against Obi-Wan’s. “I won’t miss a single fucking second of it.”
“No,” Obi-Wan said, rocking his head from side to side into the touch. “I suspect we’ll still be busy for a while after.”
“If they try to send us back out, I’ll do more than just arrest a Chancellor,” Cody said. He was probing, testing—it was an over-exaggeration, but Cody’s resolve was as a volcano: inevitable. Incendiary. It was one of the things Obi-Wan loved about him, his willingness to drive right to the brink and over, if necessary.
“We can pretend to elope,” Obi-Wan said. “The scandal shall distract the Galactic Senate long enough for Ponds to take over Coruscant.”
“’Pretend?’” Cody echoed, opening his eyes to fix Obi-Wan with a gimlet stare. “If you elope with me, you damn well better fully commit.”
“Yes, of course, dear,” Obi-Wan said, trying and failing to suppress a smile. “We shall elope, and all of our family and friends will never speak to us again.”
Cody nuzzled against the side of Obi-Wan’s temple. They were both still filthy, even after concerted efforts had been made towards ridding their clothing and skin of the clinging black grit and dust. Cody’s breath was warm against Obi-Wan’s ear. “Not for forever. Fox wouldn’t resist getting in a good gloat.”
“It would be well worth it, in any case,” Obi-Wan whispered. He felt like he had something stuck in his throat, painful and dry and aching. It was surely only the dust that had settled everywhere. Cody kissed the corner of Obi-Wan’s eye, then the other, lips rough and warm.
“It would be,” he whispered back.
#codywanweek2022#sol's codywan week 22#codywan#fanfic#fanfiction#fic#sw#star wars#tcw#the clone wars#hurt / comfort#fix-it#post-war#au - no order 66#a heat rash in the shape of the show me state
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Moonlight Chaser had a bit of fun today. She visited my stronghold and found where I hid Empress Vaylin.
She also admired my majestic pet grophet.
She especially loved this little guy and named him “Lightbulb”. That’s his official name now.
Back on Coruscant my daughter declared that this game “should not be called the Old Republic. It should be called Star Wars: The Old Tauntaun, the Young Tauntaun and the Middle Aged Tauntaun.”
Then we met Darmas. My daughter likes him because Moonlight Chaser can flirt with him and make Corso jealous. She giggled maniacally whenever a flirt option popped up.
And Moonlight got some new armor! My daughter selected the Force Apprentice set, which I luckily had already in my Collection.
In other news, I am broke!
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Star Wars OC: Kikto
@king-of-the-raves wanted to know more about my Ewok Jedi OC, so here we go!
(just to start off, this character exists in my personal Star Wars AU that combines elements of the Legends EU, the Disney Canon, various other bits of otherwise noncanon Star Wars media, and my own headcanons. other connected points of this Au can be seen here, here and here.)
Following the establishment of the New Republic, Endor signed on as a member system of the new galactic government. Despite this new participation in the galactic community, Endor remained a fairly low-tech world, the only significant establishment being a permanent spaceport established on the ruins of the stronghold of the Sanyassan Marauder king Terak. Regardless, many adventurous Ewoks gradually began to leave their homeworld and branch out into the wider galaxy. Kikto is one such fuzzball.
Born shortly after the Battle of Yavin, Kikto grew up in Bright Tree Village as a fairly typical Wokling, though he and his immediate family were fortunate enough to avoid getting directly caught up in the conflicts with the Sanyassans and the Empire. Growing up a cheerful and happy young Ewok, Kikto was curious and earnest to a fault, though his youthful naiveté would gradually grow into an exceedingly kind and optimistic Jedi. His Force-sensitivity began to manifest in the form of a strong affinity for the life of the forest, forming instinctual bonds with animals and promoting spontaneous growth in plant life. Sadly, this affinity tended to cause more trouble than help, leading to the youngster getting involved in various embarrassing mishaps that made him something of a misfit among his peers. Kikto's parents sent him to the village shaman Logray to help him control his mystic-like abilities, though the aged Ewok quickly deduced that his young charge would require a more specialized education. Aware that Luke Skywalker was in the process of setting up a new Jedi academy, Chief Kneesaa made arrangements for Kikto to accompany her to Coruscant where she could introduce him to the Jedi Master. Aware of his awkward home life, and eager to see what the galaxy was like beyond the trees, Kikto eagerly accepted Luke's offer to train at the Jedi Paraxeum.
While training on Yavin 4, Kikto quickly excelled in his Jedi training, getting better control over his natural talents and eagerly learning everything he could about the Force. In particular, he was drawn to studying Force abilities of a more clerical nature, as they were notably similar to the magics that the Ewoks had familiarized themselves with over the generations. Kikto was eventually apprenticed to the Lepi Jedi Lop Yasaburō, who encouraged him to nurture his affinity for nature. Ironically, despite his low-tech preferences and fascination with the arcane, Kikto grew to be close friends with his mechanically-inclined fellow trainee Rowan Freemaker, the pair forming an odd yet endearing balancing act. However, Kikto was also disturbed by the prevalence of various gangs of raiders and pirates preying on the weak, and he longed for the strength needed to protect people from those that would exploit them.
This drive would turn into an adventure following a resurgence of the Sanyassan Marauders, who traveled to Endor to pick up where the late Terak left off. Knowing that these Sanyassans were far more dangerous than their centurt-stranded comrades, Kikto returned home with Lop and fought to protect his people from being conquered and enslaved. Though the fight was taxing, with his older brother tragically falling in combat, Kikto persevered and defeated the Marauders. Before returning to Yavin, Kikto took the head of his brother's hunting spear and incorporated it into one of his lightsabers, a permanent memento of his home and tree.
Kikto was knighted shortly before the signing of the Pellaeon-Gavrisom Treaty in 19 ABY, and he set out to continue his studies and see new worlds. In particular, he cross trained with the Ithorian Nature Priests to truly master his skills with Plant Surge/Consitor Sato. This would prove extremely beneficial when the Yuuzhan Vong invaded the galaxy, a conflict that saw Kikto participate in numerous grueling campaigns. Given the Vong's vehement loathing of technology, it was truly ironic when the Ewok Jedi Knight turned the roots and vines around him into weapons just as potent as the blade of his lightsaber. After the war, Kikto continued to serve as a distinguished member of the NJO, taking the Chiss Zamoz as a Padawan in a new era of peace.
Other notes:
-Growing up, Kikto greatly admired Wicket and considered him his personal hero. It was to the point where he functionally fanboyed when he met Wicket for the first time prior to leaving for Coruscant. As an adult, Kikto would come to know his hero on a more personal level, with the two eventually becoming good friends.
-Kikto has a slight overbite that led to him being teased as "Bucky" growing up. While he has a good sense of humor, that is one nickname he never will be fond of.
-Kikto has two lightsabers. The first is a blue-bladed dual-phase shoto, designed to both accommodate and compensate for his small stature and limited reach. The second is an even smaller shoto with a green blade, the pommel made up of the spearhead of his late brother. He is a practitioner of the Three Rings of Defense, Shii-Cho, Soresu, and Jar Kai styles.
-In addition to his skills at Beast Control and Plant Surge, he is also an accomplished Jedi Healer, putting his powers to use to both mend injuries and soothe psychological wounds.
-He once pranked Corran Horn by tying a bag of whisties to Whistler's leg before setting off a firecracker. Everyone else thought it was hilarious.
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2, 6, 7, 15 and 24 for swtor player asks :)
Thank for asking!!! owo
I have answered 2 here and 6 and 7 here!!!
15. Show us your main(s)!
HERE THEY COME!!!
Because of ADHD I can't play on one character for long and switch between all of them, I suppose I'll show ya those between whom I switch more regularly
Captain Caroline Jester - Smuggler
Age: 40 y.o. in Prologue\Act 1
Advanced Class: Vanguard
Alignment: Sometimes Dark Side, sometimes Light Side
Used to serve in Republic military before Treaty of Coruscant, some years after decided to leave and became mercenary. With time switched to smuggling.
Everyone on her ship are her adopted kids and it's not even a question (for except Bowdaar). Kinda a goodhearted woman but won't hesitate to betray someone for money\Republic\justice.
Has a romance with Darmas Pollaran.
Revo (Kallig) Sepho, the Forcewalker - Sith Inquisitor
Age: 25 y.o. in Prologue\Act 1
Advanced Class: Marauder (after Act 3 - Assassin\Sentinel)
Alignment: Somewhere in the middle
Former slave and arrogant lady. Does her best to appear selfish, but in fact has more light inside than it may appear from the first sight. Has a brother, Ashley, and does her best to protect him from dangers around and (especially) himself.
Also totally by accident became a Revanite.
Ben Revo - Jedi Consular
Age: 51 y.o. in Prologue\Act 1
Advanced Class: Shadow
Alignment: He's confused
I should say, that he's NOT going to be my jedi consular. He's mainly my OC that I wanted to play for a bit.
Ben used to be a Jedi Sentinel during First Galactic War. He left the Order after some events and started a family with a woman he loved. They had two children and they lived peacefully until the Empire came. When the Imperials demanded surrender, they protested and hoped that Republic will send troops to aid them. But they didn't. Almost whole village was slaughtered and those who survived became slaves.
Ben survived only because of luck and because some good people took him in and helped him recover. Since then he tried to find his lost children since he there were no bodies of them. With years, hope slowly turned into hatred to all the Imperials and especially Sith. He became a Sith hunter in hope that if he can't find his lost family - then at least he'll avenge them.
Will'ow Satori - Bountyhunter
Age: 16 y.o. in Prologue\Act 1
Advanced class: Opertive
Alignment: Goodie, but likes to blow up things (and people)
She's not my main Bounty hunter, but I headcanon her being a part of my other Bounty Hunter crew.
A runaway kid who wanted to become somebody in this life. A good mechanic and likes to make bombs. Doesn't really like Empire and tries to cover her face with helmet whenever they are on Empire territory. Also, really likes Mako and they're besties.
Yanek Ragtith - Sith Warrior
Age: 20 y.o. in Prologue\Act 1
Advanced class: Juggernaut
Alignment: Dark Side
Arrogant and privileged ass. Quite an egoist and selfish, but appreciates a good fight. Acts like an ass, but actually just wants to make his parents proud.
Had a conflict with Revo Sepho and Ashley and they treat each other as rivals. Sepho calls him offensively "the Golden Boy".
Actually, really likes Vette and her smirky comments.
Jess Marli - Bountyhunter
Age: 19 y.o. in Prologue\Act 1
Advanced class: Powertech
Alignment: Bad-doer
I have't made anything with her yet, but she'll be my main Bountyhunter.
Gharess Ferr - Jedi Knight
Age: 18 y.o. in Prologue\Act 1
Advanced class: Sage
Alignment: Dark Side but tsss don't tell anyone
Deceptive kid, wants to wipe out all of the Sith. Also impatient and doesn't like droids.
YEAH THAT WAS A LOT, SORRY
24. Do you have a primary/preferred stronghold?
For now that's the one on Coruscant, but I'm really thinking of stronghold on Tattoine owo
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Jedi Knight Hahret's Coruscant stronghold
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I've started and deleted a number of posts in my re-reread of the Rogue Squadron books (and I'm only on the second book), because much of what I've wanted to say, I've said before. But villains and villainous plans, man... they have to make a different kind of sense the larger scope the story is.
Alternatively, it's really fucking weird how a book can go into great detail about a villain's plan and still leave me going: "what the fuck are you trying to do???" Isard's plan in Wedge's Gamble just makes my brain hurt. I'm not sure if the bigger problem is that it doesn't make sense unless her actual plans are different from her stated plans (but I'm pretty sure that's not the case) or if it's the violation of "how convenient for the author." (You know, that thing you really don't want your audience to think while reading your work.)
I find myself cynically thinking that Isard's plan to let the Rebellion take Coruscant, but with a people-melting virus to bankrupt the Rebellion, is the answer to Stackpole being unable to figure out how the Rebellion could actually take the planet. Sure, relinquishing tainted strongholds is a thing, but I'm pretty sure it's a "fuck you" done when a stronghold was going to fall anyway, and it probably isn't something you do with vital strongholds (unless it's a "fuck you" from the grave).
The plot wants me to simultaneously believe that taking Coruscant is vital to the legitimacy of the Rebellion as a power and that Isard can sacrifice Coruscant without sacrificing her legitimacy. And power base, really. Sure, she retreats first to her nonsensical prison and then to Bacta World...oh fuck it, I'll look it up...Thyferra. (Which is a whole other bundle of WTFery.) But she's still lost the capital planet, lost the infrastructure she had there, lost the political/psychological power of holding the capital planet, and just generally made her own position of power much less stable.
Honestly, it feels like she, Loor, and Derricote are the only actual people in (what's left of) the Empire. As if everyone working under or with them are literal drones, not people who might have reactions to the plan, to the loss of Coruscant, to...anything, really. Isard seems only to consider people's reactions to her plan in regards to the Rebellion (the Rebellion will be forced to spend loads of money on bacta to treat the people who catch the plague, or else be seen as bad) not how anyone on her side will react (oh fuck, Coruscant fell. guess that's it for the Empire.).
And the plague doesn't make sense (except in being in keeping with Isard's standard solution to things. that is to say, murder), since we're specifically told that the (human) workers in Derricote's lab wear hazmat suits when interacting with the test subjects, even though the virus is aimed at non-humans, suggesting there is pretty strong concern that it might affect humans. (We are told that it shouldn't be able to jump to humans, but I'm not sure which we're supposed to believe.) Do these lab workers know the plan? Do they have reservations? (Even if they don't have ethics/morals, what about the continued livability of Coruscant?)
(And, yes, the hazmat suits could be an abundance of caution, but it comes up when some of the test subjects are people that should have been questioned, but now can't be without revealing that they've been given the plague, and so won't be being released anyway. This means that the concern is strong enough that no one's willing to risk catching the plague--even though there's a treatment!--in order to interrogate the test subjects.)
Basically, it feels like Stackpole piles the evil on with regard to the plan in the hope that the audience will then not notice that it makes little sense for Isard to use the plan. She's evil; it's evil. Of course it makes sense.
Really, it all boils down to a what does this character want and do their actions match that. And that gets more complicated the bigger scope the story is and the more power the villain has. You don't have to put a lot of thought into it to make a school bully's actions seem plausible and in character. You have to put a lot more thought into it to make a big scope villain's actions seem plausible and in character.
If you're the leader of what remains of an empire, with control of the imperial capital, would you really abandon it? (Also, we never see Isard doing person running the empire things. She's written like a power behind the throne character, but she's on the throne.)
And, yes, you can have incompetent villains. (Lord knows, we have plenty of those in real life.) But I don't think we're supposed to see Isard as incompetent. (There's plenty of villain decay involving her later, but in this book I'm pretty sure we're supposed to be going "omg so evil" not "wtf.")
Honestly, there's a lot of weird self-defeating villainy in Star Wars. It may be in service of the idea that good will always win because evil is stupid, but it ends up somewhere in the vicinity of good will always win because it is slightly less incompetent than evil.
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TBT: J'iro checks out the Coruscant stronghold and gets some fresh air (Aug 2015)
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SWTOR AU Challenge
Got tagged by @starknstarwars many thanks for the tag!
Forgot to tag folks! Have an open tag for anyone that sees this and wants to give it a go!
The Rules:
The rules on this one are simple (for SWTOR players), go into the character creator and make an AU version of one of your characters. You can change literally anything about them. Class, allegiance, species, gender, ect.
Here we have what might have happened if Amarra Kine had not been left for dead by the Jedi on Ziost and instead was taken back to Coruscant or some other Jedi stronghold. There would have been... issues with adjusting to life with the Jedi. Having a strike team invade her home, kill her mother and maim her is not something she’d just forget. But she was six and certainly open to indoctrination. Her mother did it, so why not the Jedi? Might not be able to contain her snark at seeing any Jedi missteps though.
#oc: amarra kine#oddly serra's indoctrination might have helped with amarra adjusting to life with jedi#she never let amarra fully immerse herself in sith force philosophies fearing it would be a hindrance in the fight against vitiate#so amarra has no issues with jedi philosophies only the personal grievances of losing her home and family because of them#not insubstantial obstacles but things that the jedi could make her accept
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A) I love how great the Coruscant stronghold opening cinematic is for getting screenshots and B) it annoys me that this outfit blacks out her arm. It can do the skin color properly for her fingers but not her forearm? (and it’s not bc it’s the “wrong” gloves, I tried swapping for the ones from that set, still did it)
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For the SWTOR player asks:
25. Mind sharing some screenshots of your stronghold(s)?
Thank you for the ask @starknstarwars
Sadly, I haven't really touched Strongholds in a while. I don't earn nearly enough to buy cartel coins for decent decorations.
I have four, but the Coruscant, Dromund, and Nar Shaddaa ones are empty. I do have a Yavin IV stronghold with a few things in it, tho.
It's...not really that good.
I kinda wish you asked me literally anything else
But thank you for the ask either way.
SWTOR Player Asks
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