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The Prisoner

Turns out waking a Sith from carbon-freezing can be hazardous to one’s health…
Vette is based on the character of the same name from Star Wars: the Old Republic. In my headcanon, it was Keel’ath who went on to become the Outlander and then Commander of the Eternal Alliance, with Kellaro and Darth Merce/Brant serving under him. So though I kept some details from the SWTOR storylines like the carbonite freezing and Vette’s presence, don’t confuse this with how Chapters played out in-game. (No spoilers made or intended.)
Author’s Note

He felt tingling on the tips of his fingers first. Then all of him was tingling, then hurting, as every nerve stabbed at him as if they had gone a long time without blood. He croaked a scream, trying to move his numb and swollen legs. Something shifted around his feet and his stomach flipped, and then he was falling.

He hit the floor a few seconds later, hard, though he only felt it as a distant impact, separated from his sense of self. Instantly his Force senses snapped out, even as his body remained dull and sluggish. Fragmented memories chased themselves in his mind, speaking of ambushes and a losing battle on his starship. His emotions sang out with a fury through the clouded dark.

I will not submit!

His Force sense seized upon a lifeform at his side, and he instantly moved to attack it. So his arms wouldn’t respond but to stab at him — no matter! He reached out with the Force instead, catching the creature’s throat and throttling it, gleeful as his attacker’s life drained away.

That was for humiliating me.

He was about to reach for another, when the stun bolt from a blaster hit him, rippling across his limbs oddly, as he still couldn’t clearly register any sensation but nerve-pain. He instead felt his movements deaden more, and his mind with them, and for the longest time he could only seethe in impotent hatred.

I will not submit!

“I have a surprise for you, Vette.”

“Oh? Go on.” Continue reading “The Prisoner”

Coming By It Honestly

Some other bits and pieces from Lathril’s adventures in SWTOR. Kira is based on an NPC of the same name from the Jedi Knight class story. The way Lathril meets her, and her personality, is a little different from how it is in the game.
Author’s Note

“That is reckless,” Lathril said sternly. He said it quietly, for the Imperials were patrolling just outside the blast door. The two Jedi were crouched in a Balmora bunker, their breathing loud in their ears, the green of the indicator lights above the door bathing their faces in a pallid hue. Still, he could make out Kira’s scowl.

“It’s not a sound idea, Padawan,” he continued. “The Jedi Code teaches us to –”

“Hang the Jedi Code!” Kira hissed. “If we did this your way, we won’t make it to the engine room in time. Isn’t it important the SIS get that tech ASAP?”

The pair glared at each other.

“As I am the higher rank, I’m making the decision,” said Lathril finally.

Kira scoffed. “Oh, rank…”

“Your own Master gave me leadership. Do you not trust her judgement?”

Kira backed down. “Fine. We’ll do this your way: the slow, coward’s way.”

“At least a coward can become brave another day,” Lathril returned. “A reckless hero is simply dead.”

“My Master said you were in charge, not that you could give me lectures. So where to now, O Knight?”

“…this way, as I said.” Continue reading “Coming By It Honestly”

Pages: 12

A Jedi’s Failing

This was difficult to edit into an entertaining short, as some of the important context is missing. Lathril is a Jedi Knight character who follows that class’s story arc before coming to the Eternal Alliance, and Darth Merce is, well, a Darth, and son of Kyolath. This might’ve been a poor choice of posting order, but I had this polished up while Lathril and Darth Merce’s earlier adventures are still in exposition form only.

Also of note: though in the (ultra) fan fiction version, Keelath is from Azeroth (World of Warcraft), I decided not to take so many liberties with other settings and used Talmenor instead here. His past life remains basically the same.
Author’s Note

Lathril kept his hands folded in his sleeves and his head bowed as the lift brought them away from the Enclave. When the lift docked and the door slid open, Kyolath didn’t immediately exit. He stood staring silently out across the Odessen compound.

Lathril felt he had better say something. “I’m… sorry for the disruption, sir. It won’t happen again.”

Kyolath glared at him, or so Lathril guessed; it was impossible to tell behind that Mandalorian helm. “You knew there would be Sith here and that you would be expected to work with them. Why did you come if you only intended to start fights?”

“With all due respect, sir, he started the fight with me–”

“And you had to answer in kind, like a child?”

The remark left Lathril speechless, and Kyolath stormed from the lift, or so it seemed to Lathril with his heavy, clomping boots. The Commander was hard to read, always steeped in a calm that felt unnatural… almost droid-like. Yet Lathril knew the old bounty hunter was capable of great violence, so he tread carefully, quietly following after Kyolath.

“True strength is knowing your limits,” growled Kyolath. “Knowing your limits is knowing your weaknesses, with true humility. I don’t expect Darth Merce to have learned this lesson yet, but you are a Jedi. It is practically part of your code. What is your excuse?”

Lathril blinked hard. He wanted to protest, argue that Darth Merce was the one who had overstepped, but he also thought Kyolath was right.

No, felt he was right, through the pit in his stomach: the burning ember of shame Merce had reawakened there.

Pages: 1234

Tale Out of Time

As you can maybe tell by the characters, this story grew out of a Star Wars: the Old Republic fan fiction. In the game, I light-heartedly play a (much) older version of Keelath, where his undeath has caused him to outlive everyone else, and Azeroth (or Talmenor) has entered the Space Age. (Not shown in this story is how he managed to get a kid; as I said, it’s a light-hearted adaption because Keelath just works so well as a Mandalorian!)
I like this story enough I will probably turn it into a Talmenor tale at some point, but I’m a bit torn on whether to leave it as science fiction (so a future Talmenor) or to try and adjust it to be fantasy again. The Sith Empire translates well to the Krygon Empire, and most forms of technology can be retooled to be advanced magic or Little Folk inventions, but the “flavor” of the thing doesn’t always carry over.
So, for now, for those of you who have found this backwater of the site, enjoy this take on the Outlander, Mako, and Akaavi. Continue reading “Tale Out of Time”

Pages: 12

Character Studies for the Nameless

These are some concept art pieces for the character behind “The Nameless Accounts, also known as… er, minor spoiler, Ezran. I explain some of the concept process for each image.

Facial Structure

This exercise was more to stretch my understanding of facial structure then it was to make character concepts for Ezran. The lower middle image is his most accurate structure, though I am rather fond of Dwarf Ezran in the upper right, and the upper middle feels like an Elder Scrolls Bosmer. Meanwhile, the lower left has the facial structure of Neddryn from “The Hottest Day of the Year”, though not his hairstyle.

Expressions

Facial structure is further refined by drawing a bunch of expressions for Ezran. These also help define the character, as I’m sure you’ve noticed Continue reading “Character Studies for the Nameless”

The Setting of Sirith

For a while, I have been making use of Living Story Roleplay in World of Warcraft to map out the plotline for Seryth/Sirith. This spawned three short series including “The Story of Seryth“, explaining Sirith’s origin as a baddie, “The Shaping of Seryth“, acting as a sequel to Story and detailing what happens to Sirith after his defeat, and then the unfinished “The Search for Seryth“, which introduces Ezran and his quest to try and redeem the broken warlock. (Regarding the confusion of the name: “Sirith” is the character’s actual name, but it was taken on the WoW server I rolled him up on, so he became “Seryth” for the Living Story. In this post, he is back to being Sirith, since the setting is also back to being Talmenor, not Azeroth.)
However, when it came to Ezran and Sirith’s final meeting, where Shaping and Search were supposed to collide, I couldn’t make it work out: the scenarios available to me in-game couldn’t carry the weight or significance I needed.
Sirith’s tale in particular petered out, while Ezran’s threatened to overshadow him in a way I felt wasn’t fitting for the overall theme of the plot. Ezran is a larger-than-life character already, coming out of a series of his own (more on that later) yet somehow Sirith must transcend him, as the student always surpasses the master. So, it wouldn’t do for Sirith to come crawling back to Ezran without achieving some kind of heroics of his own. “The Shaping of Seryth” still has some moments I like as far as character development goes, but it doesn’t really go anywhere as a story, and I knew that needed to change.
Finally, I distanced myself from the Living Story Roleplay entirely and let these scenes write themselves without the guidance. It’s a fast-paced read for what feels like a novel worth of plot, much like the Living Stories, and when it comes to writing the fuller book there are many spots I will need to fill in.
I will probably still end up stealing some of the better moments from the Living Story series as well, particularly Ezran’s. It had some good timing.
Author’s Note

He came from Svenby, he said. It was one of those towns no one had ever heard of, except that one tavern drunkard who only talked about it when he was deep in his cups and reminiscing about the war. “Reminiscing” was a polite word for it; those were often the nights the bouncer had to drag him out in the morning, barely conscious and still begging for more drinks to drown the memories. Given this effect on the drunkard, no one asked him to elaborate either. Continue reading “The Setting of Sirith”

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Thorn of the Rose

“O Scourge of the Sea! Though long you have stalked me, no more shall you withhold your truth from me…

“…O Scourge of the Sea! I see the curtain has parted, your true form at last revealed to me.”

Thorn of the Rose

By A. Broadhead

Act One

The moonlight lit the paths leading away from the village square, silvering the hair and hoods of the wuyon’mari streaming into it. Its light was overpowered by the lanterns in the square itself however, shining blue and violet, green and gold, from the branches of the white-barked trees. Keelath took a sniff of the air, scented with herbs and exotic perfumes and all kinds of food.

The Long Dark holiday was in full swing. Continue reading “Thorn of the Rose”

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Imitating Dad

Evelos was a single father with a job at the local infirmary. When he stayed long into the night, filing patient records, he would bring his toddler son into the office with him.

This was made with Maya as 3D modelling practice.

The Nameless Accounts, Book One

The Kingslayer War.

The First Shadow Rising.

The akor’mari.

These words once struck fear across the continent of Talmenor. For the first time, the Nameless breaks his silence: how one akor’mar broke from the cruelty of his kind and came to govern the fates of many…

By A. Broadhead

the Nameless Accounts, scrolls 1 through 30

Originally scribed by Deft, rukh-bound to Magister Kali Hornsmith
Edited by Ezran Baenarn
Library of Castellea in Castellea, Tarith

Here follows the accounts of his memories, from earliest recalling to Cha'chk'rand'dala'he i.e. Swallowing-of-the-Dark in Sailor's Speech.

These scrolls are maintained by the Holy Order of Shen-Bahan, for the purposes of better understanding our enemies.

I was born many, many years ago, in the city of Vuzsdin.

My name is not important. I am not a hero, though some have called me that. I am not a villain, though many have given me that name as well.

I am an akor’mar.

The Surfacers would like to believe my home city, and my race, are no more. Vuzsdin was assaulted ages ago, broken, buried. The akor’mari were hunted, like we had so often hunted others. Broken, buried. The Surfacers believe they have ushered in a new era of peace now that we are no more.

But I know better. We are akor’mari. We always survive.

Perhaps my story will show that, that the old blood has not died out, that the akor’mar race still lives on. Maybe. Maybe not. It does not matter. This is my story.

I was born many, many years ago, in the city of Vuzsdin...

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The Will of the Whip

Then there was a soft spitting noise, like a match flaring to light. Evelos glanced between his fingers, and there was Keelath, the wuyon’mar’s angular face twisted in rage, holding his sword in one hand and a ball of furious Light magic in the other.

“Take your claws off my son,” his father growled.

The Will of the Whip

By A. Broadhead

“…this life, witho-o-out you.”

Mirium drew the final note to a careful quaver, then bowed as her small audience erupted into clapping. Face glowing, the wuyon’mar stepped down from the Halfmoon Tavern’s stage and sat down between her two adult children, Medi and Evelos.

“What did you think?” she whispered.

“It was beautiful,” said Evelos. “I think you’re getting your talent back.”

“Oh, you think you could do better?” Medi quipped, nudging Evelos in the ribs.

“Well, I do have a story I could tell,” said Evelos thoughtfully, as the crowd settled again and Lana took to stage to call out for the next participant. “It’s from when I was a child.”

“You were a child once??” Medi goggled.

“Erm, yes,” said Evelos. “It’s about when we first moved to Thalas’talah, away from the Dawnmist manor. It was years before you were born, though.”

Medi leaned back in disappointment. “Really? That sounds bore-ring!”

“I think you’ll find it’s not.” Continue reading “The Will of the Whip”

Pages: 123