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The Force Always Says Yes [Star Wars]

Reader mode
TroubleFait said:
Deny, deflect, deceive. We're not normal, but we're definitely not the Jedi younglings you're looking for.
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The golden rule of disguise! Don't look like a nobody, look like you're somebody who is less of a problem than your real identity. A false sense of security is as dangerous as a dark shadow...
Simonbob said:
He really is the weirdest Jedi.

But rolling with it just works way too well.
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"I legally have to inform you that I am not a Jedi!"
Psyentific said:
Next step of the plan: Claim the $1M prize for finding two jedi padawans.
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While holding up a thermal detonator, of course...
 
shargle said:
excellent fight choreography.
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TroubleFait said:
Right! It's entertaining and easy to follow.
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Aw, thank you!

I know Star Wars was in large part inspired by saturday morning matinees, samurai films, and westerns, because that's what influenced George Lucas a lot growing up and studying to become an artist. In the same way, I grew up watching a lot of 80's Hong Kong kung fu movies. Now that I've gotten rid of Nerim's lightsaber, I have an excuse to really bring that particular influence to the forefront!
 
It's a shame this is on the SFW board of QQ. It's really not getting the attention it deserves. Heck, I only found it because I clicked on the wrong board by accident. SFW stories can go on the NSFW boards, and that's not to mention the other two members of the forum trio. Spacebattles in particular has a lot of appetite for stuff like this.
 
EvilLlamaHypnotist said:
It's a shame this is on the SFW board of QQ. It's really not getting the attention it deserves. Heck, I only found it because I clicked on the wrong board by accident. SFW stories can go on the NSFW boards, and that's not to mention the other two members of the forum trio. Spacebattles in particular has a lot of appetite for stuff like this.
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It had not occurred to me that one could post SFW stories in the NSFW board. I really didn't think that much about how I posted it when I started, actually, I had only started posting it on a dare in the first place. It's a shame if that's really kneecapped the story's reach, since I actually do kinda want people to read it nowadays! I'm so unaware of fanfic culture that I don't even know what the third member of the trio is lol
 
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The upside of keeping it on the SFW side of things though is you get less of a demand or speculation of when NSFW scenes will show up. And if the goal is just more visibility, there is always the side option of plot irrelevant NSFW scenes put in an "Extras" thread on the NSFW side of things that would direct them back to this SFW core story as sort of underhanded advertising.
 
Necrovore said:
The upside of keeping it on the SFW side of things though is you get less of a demand or speculation of when NSFW scenes will show up. And if the goal is just more visibility, there is always the side option of plot irrelevant NSFW scenes put in an "Extras" thread on the NSFW side of things that would direct them back to this SFW core story as sort of underhanded advertising.
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I have been known to make side-smut in the past...Although I haven't considered it much for TFASY. What the characters involved would be is an interesting thought. Obviously the first choice would be...Fae Coven smut...yeah, THAT'S what the market wants, baby...!
 
Chapter 59: Very Grumpy New
Chapter 59: Very Grumpy​

Nerim sipped at his drink and cast a quick glance across the black-clad Syaniids. Vena Riila was nowhere to be seen, and he had a feeling that she was stuck on duty guarding Arwain, perhaps still unaware of his immediate presence. The Syaniids before him were a mix of individuals, one a Mirialan woman, another a Kaleesh with heavy scars across her face, a third Rodian who's fingers twitched in anticipation under the folds of her poncho. It was shocking to him to see so many Force Sensitives in one place outside of the Temple.

He slowly began to notice all of their eyes were settled on Tetha. He could almost see currents in the Force, like sonar pings directed towards her. They were most certainly becoming aware of her Force Sensitivity. Although according to his plan of deception, none seemed to study him for more than a few moments.

Yenchara scratched her side and stared down coldly at the two of them. "In whose employ are you?"

"Jobless, your omnipotence," Tetha said quickly with a light curtsy. "That's actually why we're here."

The Hutt scoffed. "So you're not in the employ of Skissa?"

Tetha silently nodded, maintaining a stony, blank expression.

"Then how did you get in?" Yenchara asked, making a sound somewhere between a gurgle and a growl.

"I'm...something of a cat burglar," Tetha replied.

Yenchara stared at her quietly for a tense, long moment, tilting her head side to side as transparent membranes flicked over her eyes. During the silence, one of the Syaniids, a woman climbed up the side of the palanquin and whispered in Yenchara's ear. She was of the Sephi race, a near-human species mostly noted for their pointed ears and strangely long fingers. Then Yenchara turned and raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. "You think this is the youngling?"

"No, Almighty One," the Sephi said deferentially with a slight bow, "She is not trained in the Jedi arts."

"Hhrrng..." Yenchara's eyes slid towards Nerim, and she gestured at him. "And that one? It's a Mirialan."

The Syaniids turned towards him almost with confusion, remembering that he was also present. He stood up from the bar and shuffled over beside Tetha, drink still in hand, shrugging in an expression of relaxed confusion.

"Just an associate of hers, Almighty One," the Syaniid said. "He is not strong with the Force."

"Strong with his legs," Yenchara laughed, casting another glance in the direction of the Human who was frustratedly smoothing out his red coat.

Nerim smirked and raised his glass. "Magic powers and silly superstitions tend to go out the window when you taste boot."

"Hah, like the spirit on that one," Yenchara chuckled deeply. The Sephi tightly frowned. He sensed some amount of tension between them—Opposite to the fears he heard expressed in the crowd earlier, it seemed Yenchara was not overly influenced by the Syaniids. Rather, the Syaniids seemed somewhat frustrated with her dismissal of their advice. Yenchara maintained a stare of suspicion on Nerim, but then spoke to Tetha. "Breaking into my party? I should have a collar put on you. Or feed you to the Killiks!"

A Killik in the crowd—a decidedly sentient if inhuman bug species—gulped nervously.

Tetha bowed deeply. "Slavery to a Hutt such as yourself is salvation compared to the alternative," she said flatteringly.

"Oooh!" Yenchara lit up. "What fine manners, yes..."

"Almighty One..." The Sephi spoke quietly, enough that Nerim had to focus to hear. "In regards to our deal on recruiting..."

The Hutt glanced sideways at the Syaniid for a moment, alien calculations happening behind her eyes. Instead of answering, she looked back at Nerim. "Where are you from, boy? Where's your tattoos?"

"I'm from Coruscant," he answered truthfully. "I don't have any tattoos because I haven't accomplished anything of note."

"Oh? And yet so confident," she countered. Nerim shrugged. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but those were Echani martial arts, weren't they?"

She was wrong, but only slightly. Technically they were Jedi martial arts, but much of the curriculum had been copied from Echani knowledge, and he was careful to use only the oldest moves, and nothing uniquely Jedi. He nodded anyways. "I've picked up some things. Can I ask why you're so interested in the martial arts?"

It was a bold thing, to ask a question to a Hutt like that, but at this point he felt weakness would only have their cover fold before her. And also he was a little overconfident from the alcohol. Regardless, Yenchara smiled. "What better way to confront an enemy immune to conventional weapons?"

He blinked. That was it. None of her guards were armed with blasters because blasters wouldn't do much to a Mandalorian in full beskar. Even in the Jedi Order, he had been taught that if by some incredible happenstance he find himself facing an armored Mandalorian, one good strategy would be to go for joint locks and throws to break limbs and cause concussions, rather than attempt to swing at small gaps in the armor with his lightsaber. The Syaniids were meant to pose a threat to the force Skissa had amassed that was otherwise without challenge.

He noticed the growing impatience in the black-clad Sephi, who was awaiting an answer from Yenchara. The Hutt looked over to her and then rolled her eyes in an exaggerated expression. "Hnnn. As I recall, our agreement was that you got the first pick of Force Sensitives we found. This one found us. I think that makes her mine," the Hutt said smugly. The Sephi visibly held herself back from disagreeing.

There was a definite murmur in the crowd. The teetering balance of their perceived power shifted slightly—although it seemed to Nerim that the Syaniids were more concerned with the loss of a potential recruit than the loss of face, while Yenchara's mind was on the opposite.

The Syaniid nodded towards Nerim. "Should we get rid of her street rat then, Almighty One?"

"No!" The Hutt grinned snakishly. "I have a good feeling about this one. He goes to the pit."

The Syaniid woman stared at the Hutt for a short moment, and then bowed stiffly. He sensed both a sort of resignation and anticipation in her, as if she had fully accepted the optimal solution was gone, but that she could still salvage the situation. That was perhaps the most worrying emotion that he could imagine sensing at that moment.

He glanced to Tetha, who gave him the same worried expression. But seeing as the only other option was to enter an open firefight in the middle of the atrium, they had no real choice. Two Syaniids approached him on either side and gestured for him to walk forward, with the clear implication that they would make him if they didn't. He avoided eye contact with either of them, continuing to hold Tetha's eyes.

"I'll see you soon," he said with a reassuring smile.

"I love you," she replied, returning a slightly wary smile.

Nerim wasn't able to reply before the Syaniid shoved him hard in the back, and he began staggering forward in a decidedly more drunken manner than he actually felt. The Hutt laughed and commented about how she loved a good tragic romance as the crowd cleared out before them, and soon they moved through a staff door and into a compact gray hallway which was dreadfully empty and where the footsteps echoed.

The two that were escorting him were both powerful in build, one being the Kaleesh, a warlike tusked and bat-faced species which normally lived primitive lives in the distant regions of Wild Space, beyond even the Outer Rim. She was powerful and focused, mentally and physically, and he could feel the Force radiating from her like it did with particularly talented students at the Temple, but as often was the case, she saw nothing of particular value in Nerim. She walked to the right and slightly in front of him, eyes forward.

The other was a lithe Mirialan woman with her face half-tattooed, and he could feel her curiously staring at the back of his head. She seemed much weaker in the Force, and newer among the Syaniids, or at least less practiced in their mannerisms. She spoke, although Nerim did not recognize the language. "Who is this one?"

The Kaleesh shrugged.

"Where are his tattoos?" The Mirialan woman insisted.

The Kaleesh shook her head. "Who cares?"

The Mirialan woman grabbed Nerim's shoulder and turned him around, as he looked at her with a puzzled, uncomprehending expression. "Where are your tattoos?" She asked in Huttese.

Nerim had been told by Arwain that if and when he met another Mirialan in the stars, they would be very confused and likely somewhat upset at his bare face. Apparently it was considered a sign of deep untrustworthiness among 'his' people. One was supposed to use them to brag about their accomplishments and list their skills and affiliations. To go without tattoos implied some sort of drifter or outcast who was secretive and without honor. He shrugged. "What do you want from me? I was an orphan raised by rats and all I know how to do is fight. Like I said, there's nothing of note."

She glared at him suspiciously, and then tilted her head and turned to the Kaleesh, who was impatiently tapping her foot. The Mirialan spoke again in that language he didn't know. "Didn't the Mistress warn us that the Padawan of that Jedi woman might be a Mirialan?"

The Kaleesh stared at her, unimpressed. "Should I be suspicious of you, too?"

"There's something about him," she insisted.

"He's not strong with the Force. He's drunk and starts fights. He's romantically entangled with that girl, and she is strong in the Dark. I think it's safe to say he's not a Jedi."

She pursed her lips and looked him up and down. "I don't know. I just feel like he's a Jedi."

Nerim's eyes narrowed in recognition, and he pointed between the two of them. "You keep using that word. Jedi. You doing some sorta Jedi stuff here?"

The Kaleesh grabbed his shoulder with an impressive grip and swung his body forwards, marching him down the hallway. "Move."

The Mirialan woman frowned and sped up to walk on his other side, looking towards the Kaleesh. "I just think—"

"You think too much, Kiali," the Kaleesh cut her off. "You're paranoid. If you want to advance in the Force, you must conquer your fear, not heed it."

Kiali's frown deepened, but she dropped the matter. Not long after, they came to a rusty door that screeched a little as it opened, and the Kaleesh shoved him inside.

The room was a large round chamber with a beam of dim twilight filtering through a skylight, with a set of exercise equipment and training mats littered around the center. Along the right wall were prison cells fashioned out of repurposed animal cages, some empty, some with single occupants of a myriad of species. On the opposite wall, a reptilian alien of some species Nerim did not recognize with a large jaw and jowls hanging from his face along with large magnifying goggles over his eyes, turned to look at him from a table covered in datapads and small gadgets.

Nerim frowned. "Wait, am I employed, or a slave?"

"These are more fluid categories than you realize," the Kaleesh smirked. He was brought forward and to an open cage, where he was pushed towards the entrance.

That feeling of cold slime traveling up his viscera occurred, and he concentrated hard on not reacting. He had a bad feeling about this, but without that electricity, without that immediacy, he knew the Force wasn't telling him to resist. Only to prepare.

He stumbled into the cage, and the door behind him shuddered into place.

The locking mechanism was fully inaccessible, the latch having no way to be operated from the cage itself. The Kaleesh nodded to the reptilian alien at the desk, and he moved to a computer tucked away on the side of the desk and tapped on it. Nerim closed his eyes and drunkenly lulled to the side a little, resting on the bars while focusing on the sound of the buttons as they were pressed. The cage door shuddered as a bolt locked into place, apparently operated from the machine.

Satisfied that the cage was locked, the Kaleesh turned and began walking towards the exit, not offering an explanation as to what was happening. However, the Mirialan lingered a moment, staring at Nerim. Kiali's light pink eyes stared into Nerim's amber ones, and after a few seconds she spoke. "What's your name?"

Nerim blinked slowly and rested his forehead on the bars, staring back at her, his face half-obscured by the durasteel. "Lady, walk away. I think it's best if our paths don't meet."

Her brow furrowed in thought, but the Kaleesh reached the exit and as the door screeched open, she turned to shout in that unknown language, "Let's go!"

Kiali turned and left. Nerim took a moment to take a deep breath, and then sat down on the floor of his cage, letting the feeling of his head slowly spinning fade as he focused his internal energies and began to sober up. Before he could get too far, a familiar voice cut through the air in Basic.

"Great, we're both prisoners now."

He turned. The cage to his immediate right held a large musclebound Trandoshan with a prominent black eye, whose gaze flicked nervously between Nerim and the cage to his right, which held a scowling Human woman in a tattered red undershirt and trousers with her wrists cuffed together and strung up to the top of her cage. It was only the second time Nerim had seen Jianno without a scrap of armor on.

"So we have to rely on Arwain, now?" Jianno asked sarcastically.

"Oh, no, she was taken prisoner like three hours ago," Nerim replied.

"Fantastic."

Nerim let a moment of silence linger.

"I hate you two," Jianno continued. Then she took a deep breath, and groaned it out in frustration. "Sorry."

Nerim smiled.

"This place is crawling with Dark Jedi," Jianno growled. "Before you go blaming me, I didn't go looking for trouble. I was doing my mission. I didn't even get within a mile of the palace, they found me."

"I don't blame you," Nerim said. He was unsure if he actually believed her story or not, but he internally acknowledged that it wouldn't make any difference whether she was or wasn't. "These Syaniids are the real deal. At least, as far as Dark Jedi go."

"Yeah. They're organized," Jianno said, struggling against her handcuffs. "They have some sort of code language they speak to each other. As far as I can tell, no one's ever heard it before. Makes you wonder just how long they've been around."

"That explains it," Nerim sighed. "Well, what are we doing in here?"

Jianno huffed and pulled hard, lifting herself up. She wrapped her legs around the bars atop the cage to hang upside down, letting her arms rest from carrying her weight. "The Hutts use slaves for gladiatorial matches. Only, usually the bet isn't who will win. It's how long they'll stay alive."

"So we have to get out of here before—"

"Hey!" The shrill voice of the reptilian alien carried across the room as he gestured angrily at Jianno. "Get down from there!"

"Ne shab'rud'ni," Jianno growled, glaring at him as her short black hair hung down.

The reptilian slammed his hand down on a button, and a metallic humming noise emanated from Jianno's cage. A few sparks jumped from her handcuffs to her body or to the bars she was hanging on. She didn't react. The alien looked down at its shock remote, bewildered.

"So how do we break out?" Nerim asked.

"You got a plan?" Jianno grunted through the pain as the alien kept pressing the shock button, unsure if it was working.

"I'm missing some details," Nerim admitted. "But I've got it mostly worked out." He turned to the Trandoshan. "Do you have a plan?"

The Trandoshan raised his hands up defensively and shook his head vigorously. "Noo, mee, noo, noo," he said with a heavy accent, scooting to the back of his cage.

Jianno snorted. "Almost forgot he was there." She looked to Nerim. "So, what's your plan, shrimp?"

"Well, it's a little slapdash, but..." Nerim reached into his coat, pulled out his blaster pistol, and fired it at the alien behind the desk. The green bolt shot right through the alien's chest, and the reptilian looked down at the wound and then back up at Nerim in shock, and then fell off his seat.

Jianno stared in furious disbelief at Nerim, a vein in her forehead becoming quite prominent. "They didn't check you for god-damned weapons?" She choked out through grit teeth, her face turning bright red, though whether it was from anger, pain, or just because she was upside down, Nerim couldn't tell.

He smiled and shrugged. "It seems the Light Side is just as good at clouding the vision of Dark Siders as vice versa. Now I—" Nerim suddenly stopped, looking back towards the dead alien and noticing that the shock remote had fallen to the ground upside down, the button pinned down. He looked back to Jianno, seeing sparks flying from her body. "Oh my—I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry! " Nerim apologized quickly as he reached his arm out of the cage and attempted to focus on the remote.

Still, he wasn't sure if Jianno even noticed the shocking. Her eyes slowly became bloodshot as she glared at him. "They didn't check you for weapons?!" She repeated, louder. "These are the shabuir that the Force produces?! I hate you!" She shouted, her cage shuddering from side to side with her struggling.

"Hold on—let me just—I'm sorry!" Nerim babbled, attempting and failing to recenter himself as he reached out with the Force. The remote slightly jiggled as his slippery grasp on the Force struggled to lift it.

The musclebound Trandoshan whined and curled up, resting his chin on his knees.
 
Hyenanon said:
"Breaking into my party? I should have a collar put on you. Or feed you to the Killiks!"

A Killik in the crowd—a decidedly sentient if inhuman bug species—gulped nervously.
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Poor bug people 🥺


Your characters are charming, and I forget that some of them are evil and don't deserve as much care for their survival. Like, say, guards in a Hutt prison where the prisoners are sent to die. Or Dark Jedi. Or a Hutt.

I wonder about Kiali though. Should I bet she makes it out alive and allied with our cast? Probably. She's a cute girl that seems to be curious and will probably escape her circumstances, kind of a tradition with Nerim. Poor Tetha will probably worry about that…
 
TroubleFait said:
Poor bug people 🥺


Your characters are charming, and I forget that some of them are evil and don't deserve as much care for their survival. Like, say, guards in a Hutt prison where the prisoners are sent to die. Or Dark Jedi. Or a Hutt.

I wonder about Kiali though. Should I bet she makes it out alive and allied with our cast? Probably. She's a cute girl that seems to be curious and will probably escape her circumstances, kind of a tradition with Nerim. Poor Tetha will probably worry about that…
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Nerim does have a surprisingly low body count, for a Star Wars story! Many of his fights he's been able to end nonlethally, and whenever he has killed someone, he's had to sprint away full speed immediately after instead of lingering over it. I mean, he has been trained to kill his entire life, but he's been surprisingly fortunate in circumstances letting him avoid rumination over it. So far, at least.
 
TroubleFait said:
Your characters are charming, and I forget that some of them are evil and don't deserve as much care for their survival. Like, say, guards in a Hutt prison where the prisoners are sent to die. Or Dark Jedi. Or a Hutt.
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Seconded. This Hutt is great. And I want her to have a great time and keep doing what she's doing. The fact that she's hurting people doesn't really matter to me.

I care more about how factions treat their own people (and those they claim to protect), than how they treat outsiders (as long as they don't give people false impressions that they are insiders when they aren't, anyways).
 
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