TOYDARIA

[SWSF Hale]

For all storylines pertaining to Toydaria.

THE TOYDARIAN CONNECTION [Mission]
Resources, influence, and proximity to Nal Hutta have made Toydarians into rather prominant figures within Hutt Space. As neither the end nor beginning of illegal and legal operations in Hutt Space, players looking for anything useful should look for it on Toydaria.
 

[SWSF Eidolon]

[SWSF Eidolon]

As Fate Would Have It (Pt I.I)

  It was dark still in the remote corner of the Oktos swampland that Repeeshee called home.  Like most days, he had long ago risen from slumber in his custom weaved dried-vine hammock and was already well in to the routine of an ambitious swamp-prospector.  Staking a harvesters claim on such a ripe patch of territory was no lazy mans duty.  His parents had long ago passed- early in the reign of King Katuunko, while his siblings have all fluttered off to the capitol and beyond to become something other than the simple bumbling agrarians their natural course would have had for them.. the course Repeeshee now bumbled along..

  In the hour or so before the local star begins to peak over the horizon but it's approaching warmth and glow can be felt, in this part of the swamp, the wide array of indigenous life creates a chaotic orchestra of hoots, hisses, chirps, croaks, whines, screaches, growls, roars and everything in between.  Filling the blackness with a portrait of sound.

   His home was a basic mud hut built atop a small dry mound in the middle of what was otherwise shallow murky swamp waters.  Outside and nearby of it a few towering gnarled trees stood arching out over the lower landscape.  A couple candles flickered within casting faint light throughout it's shadowy cubbies.  Outside of one of the few small carved out deep-set windows, a large needle-nosed insect was slowly descending toward the tiny port, where from the outside the faint flicker of candle light drew it's interest in the otherwise gentle shroud of early morning darkness.

    A large bulbous frog-like creature that huddled on the ground beneath the window, as if by design or routine, bristled with anticipation as it's three eyes grew wider and wider as the would-be suckling insect drifted lower, unaware of the predator lurking beneath.  The bulging ground-based creature minutely adjusted its stance from side to side before letting out a slight croak and snapping out with a heavily saliva-laiden tongue, snagging the massive insect neatly around the throat and snapping rapidly back to the creatures mouth where the cracas hung half our as it chomped several times with a seeming grin and satisfied groan.

  The blue and cream skinned avian hovered in place, wings beating at normal pace and creating a soft rapid flutter sound, huffing to himself in the barely lit fogged glass mirror of his grooming quarters as he clipped the last of his noticably protruding chin hairs with a type of filed bone scissor.  The contrast of the crude tool and the modern chrono piece on his wrist, a recent gift from his brother- a minister in the capitol, struck his cynical sense of humor as he placed the simple utensil down and fluttered off to his door way admiring the time piece and the artificial glow it cast about his unremarkable rounded naked body as he glided along in seeming effortless elevation.

   There a battered, outdated and rusty protocol droid- inherited from three generations ago of his family who all lived in the same hut, awaited him at his humble domiciles exit, it's most recent masters simple leather wares draped over one arm and hands clutching upright an archiac looking mechanical weapon of some sort while the other held in bunched fashion the heavy affixed strap of a large animal horn roughly a third of the size of the droid itself.

  "I feel inclined to warn you master Repeeshee, the grand horn weighs approximately 10 kilograms in it's current capacity filled state.  This is likely to inhibit flight efficiency to a drastic degree,"  the creepy flat metallic contour-faced droid advised in it's passive concerned feminine tone.

  "Hegggh, Dooon't wurry Roxsy!  It get's lighter as I go!  Besides, I have a craving for swamp-fox stew and nothing draws them out like the scent of grammas grog!" the Toydarian retorted with an upbeat tone.  A grand horn full of scalding warm Toydo-berry grog was never something to be lamented, nor the potential of swamp-fox stew.

  "Very well sir, may I prepare a stew broth in your absence?"

  "Agghhhhh, thatta gurrrl..," he began jolly before catching a memory and turning to a scolding tone,  "Don't let me find any mole-rats in there when I get back though!"

  As he proceeded to throw his vest over his shoulders and arms through, followed by a few loosely harnessed satchels and lastly and most importantly the grand horn- which was by now perspiring, slung to drape across his front side. 

  "Very well sir, I will put the apprehended mole-rats in the waste incinerator," the droid responded in presumption.

  The Toydarian abruptly stopped her, "No, No, No, No!" he begrudingly exclaimed as if repeating himself for the hundreth time and sighing before responding with animated albeit burdened limbs, "I didn't say anything about not wanting to eat them!  I said keep them out of my swamp-fox stew!"

  The hovering avian then grasped the old weathered looking mechanical weapon from the droid and inspected a few of what could only be described as it's gadgets closely, satisfied he slung the weapon to hang across his back.  Visibly hampered in his previously effortless hover, the Toydarian grabbed adhold of and adjusted the half dozen or so straps now hung on his small portly frame as the droid gave him a hand with the door.

  Wings now beating in over drive, Repeeshee wabbled slowly forward through the air gaining minimal speed and altitude as he cleared the small uplifted hill-like patch of dry swampland upon which is humble mud hut home sat before drooping back down low and slow again.  Fumbling, he hoisted the grand horn of Toydo-berry grog up and pulled the cork from the pointed end out with his teeth, spitting it off to the side.

  His less than nimble flight path sent the warm frothy brew spilling out down the sides of the natively harvested receptacle as he managed to dump more of the substance down his throat than was lost.  After several hearty gulps of the substance, his altitude finally began to increase, while his wabbly meandering pattern seemed to grow in prevelance as he sauntered off in to the dank, murky, vast Oktos swampland, the sun Toydor just barely now tracing out the horizon..

[Rinny]

    At some point the force Toydaria’s gravity was exuding on the escape pod was too much for the injured and weak Padawan to handle.  Tift Starchaser, a young Zeltron woman, lost consciousness as the small craft fell from space and slammed into the swamp sending up a tide of mud and water.  She was upside down, her long, dark purple Padawan braid swinging slightly in the flickering emergency lights.

    The tinny voice of the computer announcing the failing systems of a pod that had lasted long past its intended use managed to pull her awake.  The first thing Tift saw as she hung there in her seat was her Master strapped in a seat below her.  The Twi’lek’s features were sunken and her once bright blue skin was now grey; she had been dead for days.  The Padawan had kept the pod as cold as she could stand it after her Master had passed to slow decay, but nothing could be done for the anguish at the core of her being.  Not just for her Master, but all of her people, betrayed and murdered.

    Hot tears sprung anew in her eyes as she pulled the release tabs on her seat and fell like a stone to the opposite side of the pod, managing to avoid landing on her dead Master.  Tift wiped at her face with what was left of her ragged clothes that had once passed for the vestments of a Jedi.  Steeling herself, she began to brute force the door controls as the last of the pod’s systems died out, and finally kicking out the hatch.

    Sunlight and the musty smell of bog poured into the opening.  A wave of anxiety washed over her; all she wanted to do was take a deep breath but the pod stank of death and the outside was a stench of mold and fungus.  Tift pulled herself out of the hatch and promptly vomited off the side.  It wasn’t much more than bile, even with rationing she had run out of ration packs two days ago and the last bit of water six hours before the crash.

    Sitting atop the scorched craft she tried to settle her rolling stomach, her pounding head, and her churning emotions.  In her Master’s final moments she had told Tift the title of Jedi would no longer hold favor or influence; the Jedi and anyone close to them would be hunted.  Trust would no longer be possible.  She would have to fend for herself without the Order propping her up or the help of the Republic.  This was something that in her short sixteen years she had never faced, and something that terrified her to no end.

    Later, once again perched atop the now defunct pod, Tift looked into the makeshift sack of vaguely useful supplies she had managed to pilfer from the craft.  Her fingers wrapped around the long braid that hung from a jaggedly cropped mess of deep purple hair. A scream ripped through her throat, a raw, guttural cry from a place of shame and despair, as she took a vibroknife and cut the braid away.  Wretched sobs followed as the braid fell out of her fingers and into the pod.

    Weak from lack of food and water, as well as still throbbing injuries suffered escaping Kessel, Tift waded through the bog away from the pod and towards… she didn’t know.

[SWSF Eidolon]

As Fate Would Have It (Pt I.II)

  By mid-morning, with the Oktos Swamp-land fully illuminated by Toydors natural brilliance and the wildlife in full chorus basking in appreciation of the warming glow, Repeeshee's prophecy had come true- the great horn of swamp-berry grog was no longer a burden, nor was it holding a drop of grog.  His stomach now carried the weight for him, and surrounded by the biologically air-absorbent cells of a Toydarians body, doing a much better job of it.  His balance on the other hand bore some slight stagger and delay, nothing too prohibiting in the duties of a hunter gatherer though.

  He'd come across little by way of the swamps bounty to bother with yet, so had begun making his way toward a known hot spot of Gabaki Fungus, a long abandoned trade post over-grown with the local fauna of the swamp.  Its steel facades were stained greenish brown, it's landing pads turned to flat mossy patches while It's back-up generators still hummed with the last soft breaths of life its cells had to give.  A gentle yellow waypoint beacon flashed occassionally on it's upper most structural point, a communications antenna.  With no other power sources for dozens of kilometers in any direction, it tended to act as a homing beacon itself for anything which sought that out.  This included the indigenous Toydor-swamp-rat, actually more lizard than rodent.  The tiny beings were drawn to the warmth of the energy sources of the abandoned outpost, and made their nests around it.  Filthy creatures they were, they defecated in their own domains.  By way of the miracles of nature, gakabi fungus tended to like to sprout up from swamp-rat dung.  Hence the wonders of the cycle of life.  The generators gasped, the swmap rats made their home and took a crap, the fungus grew and Repeeshee came to collect it for trade. 

  Consequentially so known and hot was this spot that it frequently attracted poachers.  On more than one occassion, Repeeshee's archaic mechanical rifle-type weapon had proven its worth.  He comforted himself in the feel of it's weight on his back as his wings beat slightly harder with the thought of those dirty pinchers plucking his fungus.  Making his way there since he was a hardly old enough to make the flight without rest when his father was still zipping about leading their outings, the journey was now one he made practically of instinct and with his eyes closed.  As he neared the outpost however, an unfamiliar sound rumbled amidst the swamps harmonies.  He paused his flight to a hover for a moment to focus on the particular noise more clearly..

   ..a Swoop bike..  Pinchers he thought to himself..

  Off to a rapid sprinting-flight pace now he hurried toward the Outpost, the rumbling of what he'd identified as a Swoop becoming more prominent.  As he approached within view of portions of the structure through the swamp-growth, the Swoop engines steady slow rumble meant it was definitely idling.  He ducked to a webbed foot rest in to a thicket of swamp-bush that butted up against one of the mossy landing pads and peered through while slinging his bulky mechanical rifle weapon from over his shoulder and cranking what must have been an action screw on one of it's sides.  A ratchet and clank sound followed by a quiet ting assured him it was locked and loaded with whatever sort of projectile the device might hurl.

    Pushing a hand and his face further in to the bushes, he caught sight of the swoop for a few moments before catching a glimpse of bodily movement.  It was a Toydarian, of that much he was sure.  Convinced now that he was dealing with another Pincher, he clutched his weapon and readied himself, preparing to spring out and give the thief a taste of something awful.

    He lept over the bush to a quickly ascending flight to occupy a higher position than his prey.  As he rose a couple dozen feet in the air, he came to an abrupt hover and saw the green-skinned would-be squatter gazing up wide-eyed with mouth gaping in surprise.  Unable to react, the encroaching Toydarian simple stood froze as Repeeshee took sure aim and squeezed one of the few trigger devices on his bulky rifle weapon.

     A moment seemed to pass as a snap and crunch eminated from the device before some sort of projectile came whistling out of it.  As it smacked the frozen defender in the face, the fragile glass-like nature of the projectile became apparent, as well as the fact that it evidently acted as a vessel transporting a liquid of some sort.  The pungent offensive nature of it quickly conveyed to the receiver,

    "Bllaaagggcckkk!!!" the green-skinned Toydarian lamented as the blackish goo covered his face and upper chest area.  "Is..is that.. is that quarrel-fish piss?!" he exclaimed in revolt while hurrying over to some scrub growth clinging to the side of the structure and grabbing patches out attempting to blot and scrub the substance from his person.

    Repeeshee huffed to himself in satisfaction while lowering his position to confront the trespasser.  As he neared, he recognized the red and purplish with gold-trim attire of the green-skinned Toydarian as that of the Royal Constabulary.  A small logo on the engine hub of the idling Swoop bike he'd just noticed confirmed this.

    The Constable was well in to his tirade of displeasure as Repeeshee was taking notice of these things,

   "..with you swamp-country bumpkins!  Third time this week I've been covered in excrement and another thing!  I could have you brought up on assault of a royal official for this!.."

   "No, no, no," Repeeshee began back-pedaling his established offensive posture as he realized his grave mistake.  "Look, look, I.. I thought you were a Pincher! Those no good squatters come through here with their Swoops for months now picking my Gabaki!.."

   The Constable cut him off as he himself finally took to flight and bulged his stomach out, intentionally bumping it in to Repeeshee, knocking him back a meter or so in the air, as he became quickly more aggressive,

   "Those aren't Pinchers and this ain't your swampland!  You've been told before, the old Kings deeds don't hold up no more!  Get yourself a new deed from the new king, or get yourself out of the Oktos!" the Royal Constable boasted loudly to the blue-skinned Repeeshee.

   "This swampland was my broods long before Katuunko came and went!" Repeeshee countered as he followed the Constable who fluttered over to his Swoop and pulled a datapad from it's side satchel.

    The Royal official handed the pad to Repeeshee who let his mechanical rifle drop to a resting sling at his side as he grasped and glanced at the screen as the Royal official informed him,

   "This is an official Royal decree and notice of your eviction, absolving your deed.  It also states that any further meddling with Royal collectors will be met with force by the authorities.."

    Repeeshee interjected on the Constable,

   "But, you can't do this!  Where is the fairness in this business?!" he exclaimed as he tossed the datapad back to the official.

   "No one said anything about fair bub, but this is business, I'm gonna let this fish-piss incident go, and trust I don't catch you around here again.." the Royal messenger replied as he tucked the datapad back in to it's pouch and mounted his rumbling little technological beast.

  "My parents and their parents before tended this land for the Kings and their Hutt masters!" Repeeshee shouted over the rising roar of the Swoops engine.

  The Constable shot him a glance as he fitted his goggles to his face and comfortably settled on his snout, "they ain't here no more it seems?  Maybe time for you to move on to huh?" he yelled before hitting the accelerator to the swoop sending it zipping off kicking up a shower of swamp water from its repulsor-wake as it wooped away, the loud rumble of its engine quickly fading in the foliage and distance.

   Being alone was not a feeling that frequently left him feeling..well, alone.  It wasn't the first time he'd been informed of the illegitimacy of his claim to these parts of the Oktos, but it was the first time he'd considered the authenticity of that claim himself.  For the first time in memory, being alone felt like being alone.  Repeeshee's spirits sunk as reflected in his shoulder-posture as he fluttered about plucking a few gabaki mushrooms before ascending up the tall communications antenna of the abandoned outpost, coming to a rest on a small circular disk near it's peak that was barely large enough to hold him.  He slumped back against the tip of the antenna as the occasional yellow glow of the beacon illuminated the top of his head.  Sullen, he drifted off to an early-afternoon nap from the combined influence of a heaping helping of swamp-berry grog, a stressful encounter and a somber realization..

[SWSF Eidolon]

As Fate Would Have It (Pt I.II cont'd)

  ..his dreams drifted for an indiscernible but definitely short amount of time before being pierced and rudely slapped back to reality by the wailing screech of a beast, boldy piercing the sounds of all others, of some form he had never before heard in these swamps.  The peak noon rays contributing to the momentary sensory overload as he clung to the upper most part of the antenna for balance, his stubby webbed-feet planted tightly on the small disk he'd been resting upon.  Shaking off the shock of being instantly jolted from emotional and depressant induced slumber and gaining his bearings, he identified the directional source of the terrible noise and glared.  With one hand creating a visor for his eyes as he still clung for brace and balance with the other and squinting heavily, he glared at the hurtling object that drew rapidly nearer and louder.

  A seeming fireball of chaos approached on what appeared to him like a perfectly aligned trajectory toward himself.  The screeching grew from piercing to deafening as it swallowed every other noise and possibly thought.  Mesmerized, perhaps wondering if he was still dreaming and never once contemplating to move and spare himself, he simply tightened his grasp with both arms to the antenna structure as doom approached.  His eyes widened and a strange cynical smile crept over his face.  In the moment before impact as the fireball filled his entire eye-span, the consuming warmth reminded him of something comforting.  He closed his eyes just before he was sure it was upon him.  The air seemed to hiss violently around him just before everything seemed to stop.

  A horrendous sounding explosion, crash, splash and smack of the earth followed, but oddly to Repeeshee, of less intensity than the immediate moments prior he'd experienced.  He cracked one eye lid and took what were at first cautious glances from side to side before full single-eyed assessment of the situation by use of neck muscles and all.  He was still clinging to the antenna tightly.  The sun, Toydor, still beamed brightly in front of him.

  He glanced down, the Outpost structure still stood firmly and whole.  The sound of swooning disrupted swamp waters and the clamoring of a dispersing gaggle of native narrow-bodied long-legged birds drew his attention behind him to what looked at first like a large meteor having slammed in to and slid, cutting a several meter deep and hundred or so meter long path or impromptu canal across the swamp- uprooting trees and scrub and flinging water, earth and mud as it went before coming to a half dug in rest.  Essentially a rapid earth-moving project in chaotic form.  His mind raced as he fluttered off to inspect what was his averted execution by the will of nature, and what has crashed in to his swamp that he could now lay claim to, the very recent encounter with the Royal Constabulary and acceptance of the reality of his expired ownership of this part of the Oktos having been completely overshadowed in his memory by this more recent and extremely random event. 

  As he approached, it became quickly evident this was no meteor that had crashed in to his swamp.. it was a starship of some kind..  or perhaps a part of one..

  Its scarred metallic body groaned in pain for a few moments as he hovered over it, bobbing from one end to the other inspecting it closely but without touching as his hands were clasped and rolling over each other in wonder and anticipation.  He was no space-traveler, but this was definitely from the stars.

  Suddenly, a distinct thud came from within the beast.  Repeeshee skittered over to where he thought it roughly came from on the objects body.  It happened again just as he skidded to a halt there.  Bending close while his wings still beat keeping him aloft, he put a cupped ear close to the ship.

  It thudded again, twice rapidly.  Surprising him, he wobbled and flung himself off to the side of the large half-earthly embedded object to the ground.  Another thud followed an instant after he hit the ground, followed by a different type of slamming and soft distant thud sound.  He pulled himself up by his hands, standing on the tips of his webbed toes just enough to peer across the top of the fallen starship debris.  His eyes cleared view just in time to catch part of a being climbing out of a rectangular hole.

  Repeeshee quickly slid back down the side of the crashed object and planted himself firmly on the ground.  As he heard the emergent being make some small bit of commotion he crept around the side of object to what would have been the rear judged by its entry path.  The natural canal that the hurling object created was beginning to fill in with the surrounding swamp waters.

  As he cleared the rear of the object, he turned to catch a glimpse and see the being was still atop the craft and was slipping back inside.  He would wait.  Patience is a hunters most important virtue.

  A short time progressed, it may have been several minutes, it may have been several seconds.  It felt like an eternity internally as his heart pounded.  He was sure the being inside could hear it as his back was pressed firmly against the rear of the craft.  He checked the various facets of his bulky mechanical rifle a few times through the wait.  Then, he heard a splash.

  He fluttered quickly up to and plopped down to a crouch atop the earth-wedged vehicle.  Walking slowly up until he could see out across the bog, the figure of the upper torso of this vessels occupant took form..

  It was a tall, apparent from his extensive knowledge of the bogs depths around here, red-skinned humanoid with short black hair.  He laid down atop the craft now in a sort of supposed sniper-like position.  Looking down the side of the bulky rifle, he flicked a switch which sent a small kinked arm holding a mishapen but polished lens swinging down.  Some tiny fine hash marks were drawn in to it, giving him a sense of gauging measurement.

  The red-skinned near-human slowly waded further away with it's back turned to him as he zeroed in on it's upper shoulders while peering through the lense.  His target was just roughly thirty to forty meters ahead of him and climbing up on a dry patch of ground amidst the swamp-waters, freshly created by the mounds of displaced earth.  It came to a momentary halt while on both knees. Satisfied at the presented opportunity, Repeeshee squeezed a separate trigger mechanism than the one which would have activated the glass quarrel-fish piss bullets.  A different type of sound came from the mechanical rifle device, resembling a kind of twirling or winding followed by a much higher pitch but quieter whistling projectile being flung from a different offeset barrel-mouth at it's end.

  The lightly poison-tipped dart flew straight and true toward it's target, which seemed to pick up the distinctly smooth flowing sound and turn it's head just in time for the sharp barbed dart with orange guide-feathers to burrow in to it's back right shoulder.

  As the being quickly reacted, exclaimed and smacked at its shoulder blade, as if having been stung by a bug, Repeeshee realized the youthful and feminine nature of it. 

  She hadn't fainted as he planned.  Apparently the dosage he used on his darts for small game weren't potent enough to drop an adolescent near-human girl.  Noted.  Still, undeterred from enforcing his claim, with vigor he took flight and high "ground" over the red-skinned being.

  Hovering over her as she distractedly reached vainly and angrily at her back, he locked and loaded what was the heaviest gauge action mechanism on his multi-faceted mechanical rifle device.  This time taking a general aim down at his prey, he squeezed the only remaining unused trigger on the weapon, prompting it to let out a loud whoop or woof as a rather large but slow moving clump of projectiles came flinging forth from out of a center-placed large bore barrel at it's end.

  The clump of projectiles opened up as it traveled revealing that they were anchor balls for a net-like projectile.  The red-skinned girl glanced in it's direction perhaps just in time to catch a glimpse of the portly levitated being as her brow to peaked and the hurtling net expanded, surrounded, enshrouded and collapsed around her, sending her tumbling and rolling over a couple times backward...

[Rinny]

    Tift hid crouched behind crates of spice ready to be shipped out of the system.  Her Master had run towards the carnage, towards the dying screams of what was left of their Order, but the Padawan was paralyzed with fear and she hid.  She put her hands over her ears to try and block it out, but she couldn’t block out the violent tremors in the Force.  There was pain and death, surprise and panic, and there was hate, so much hate.  The hate wasn’t just coming from the one who hunted them, but from the Jedi who had taught her peace over emotion and serenity over passion.



    Tift shook her head and tried to clear away the memory.  Everyone was dead and if she hadn’t chosen to hide she would be dead as well.  She was trying to justify her cowardice, but it didn’t matter because there were none left who would care.

    After wading through the swamp away from the craft that had brought her to this moist planet, she came across a bit of higher ground.  Grasping at a few vines tangled across the muddy bank, she pulled herself up out of the waist deep waters.  Tift sat on her knees in the mire, pausing to again try to take a deep breath.  She was sure her ribs were cracked, but that was the least of her worries.  Chiefly important was the need to find fresh water.

    Her eyebrow twitched slightly and instinctively her hand went to her hip as she turned her head to see what had suddenly caused the feeling of warning to surge through her chest.  There was a stabbing like a needle and then a burning sensation buried in the back of her shoulder.  With a small yelp, she tried to reach back behind her, ineffectively slapping at whatever it was--insect, acidic sap… something worse.  Her fingertips could barely touch what felt like feathers and in the second she realized that something had shot her, she caught sight of a fat, blue alien hovering with its tiny wings just meters from her.

    An ice blue beam of light shot from her hand as the saber ignited, but her movements were slow and unsteady from fatigue, dehydration, and now a toxin trying to work its way into her system.  She barely brought the weapon up to defend herself when the second shot came out her, spewing forth the snare.  Tift sheared off a couple of the weights as the net attempted to encase her, but that threw off the balance of the trap and it wrapped awkwardly around her.  The weights banged against her back and one hit her head sending her tumbling to the ground, rolling through the muck.  The lightsaber had deactivated and fell into the mud with a wet plop.

    Through hazy vision Tift watched as the strange creature hovered over where she had dropped her weapon and she struggled weakly against the ropes.  On her back was the bit of canvas that she had fashioned into a sack using parts of the safety harnesses of the escape pod; inside it was her Master’s lightsaber.  If she could get to that, then she could end this.  It was a useless struggle though, her limbs were too heavy and she was finding it very hard to focus.

    The alien hovered closer to her; her elegant weapon now clutched in his three-fingered hand.  Tift couldn’t tell if he looked triumphant or curious, his features were all a blur to her quickly darkening vision.

    “Let me go.”  Her voice croaked out.  She tried to twist her fingers, to wield the Force into manipulating her captor.  “Let me go.”  Her voice cracked again, but the creature just watched as her grey eyes finally closed and her body went limp.

[SWSF Eidolon]

As Fate Would Have It (Pt I.II Fin)

  Repeeshee had hardly noticed the Jedi weapon the girl brandished until she was flailing at the net shot with it.  As the net-weights and binding collapsed her, it took a moment for the visual observation of it all to register.  He first hurried over to roughly where it seemed to have fallen and scooped it up quickly from the mud.  Giving it a quick dunk in the somewhat cleaner swamp water, he fluttered back over to her while greedily inspecting it as she was, while almost lacking any muscular fortitude whatsoever, struggling to free herself and fight back while pulling at her vine-rope net binding.  The light toxin was beginning to take effect.

  He bent his upper torso down toward her while maintaining flight as it seemed like she was trying to say something as she grew rapidly more wabbly and disoriented in her already tangled and seated posture,

  "Ha! What are you doing crashing in to my swamp huh!? .. huh?! And what in Hutt Lords names are you doing with this??" he excitedly badgered her while shaking the lightsaber handle at her and turning it over looking for an obvious way to turn it on.

  Her hand seemed to begin to try and make a gesture before she gave up and let it fall limp. It seemed as though she spoke basic,

  "Laah nee ggaaww...  Lugghh neh ga.."  it came out of her to him, roughly translated anyways. 

   But whatever she was trying to say would have to wait until she awoke.  Her whole body had gone relaxed while her slow heavy chest expansion and compression, a side effect of the toxin, let him know she was still alive as the awful unrhythmic buzz-sawing noise now building up from her mouth as her slumber deepened gave final confirmation.

  Repeeshee hummed and ba-dum-ba-dumed away, while his new captive snored in to oblivion- curled and netted up, as he gathered some fresh vine from the immediate vicinity and used it to tie the damaged net now carrying a knocked out nearly full size being up in to a closed bundle and rein that he could at least hopefully drag back to his abode until figuring out step two.

  As he knotted up the edges of the netting to close it up he had to softly move and manipulate the limp beings extremities in to a bundle.  The alternative was to break them off, which sometimes worked for large wild beasts but seemed inappropriate for the present situation, if not down right cruel and perhaps damaging her value.  It became apparent from her attire and adornments that she was someone special.  Who and what she was doing with a Jedi's laser sword he had no idea, but that would be the first bit of information he'd need to get out of her.

   Content with his being-net-bundle, he hoisted the vine-rope across his shoulder while clinging with both hands and began giving a full exertion of his wings ability with a long drawn out huff and series of grunts of his own lungs.  His wings batted rapidly as the noise they made approached sounding almost inorganic in origin.  Straining heavily, the bundle finally began to drag along behind him as he settled in to a hard fought but slow pace with the snoring bundled burden in tow.  He'd have to return later for the vessel itself and what else it may hold.  For now the most valuable things he'd ever come across in his entire life now sat in a satchel at his waist and in his suspicion, in a heaping viney-bundle beneath his small blobbed shadow as the sun dragged onward in it's path across the Oktos Swampland Sky..

[Rinny]

    “I don’t much care for swamps.”  A young Tift declared as the pair of Jedi trudged through wet brush.

    “All of this moon knows how you prefer the city to the swamp, Padawan.”  The blue lekku of the Master swung back and forth as she pushed through the branches and dangling vines.  “Ah, here.”  She declared and halted their trek.

    Tift pushed up next to her and drew in a sharp breath.  They were standing on the edge of a cliff; a ravine full of swiftly moving water below them.  “I know I’m not your favorite student, but you don’t have to try and kill me all the time.”

    The Twi’lek smirked at her Padawan.  It was true Tift was not the most gifted of her apprentices, or attentive, or restrained, but they were both stubborn and she was determined to see Tift advance.  “It’s only about twenty meters.  Go on then.”

    Tift stepped up to the edge and took a few deep breaths.  The rushing sound of the water below and the wind tearing through the passage in the trees filled her ears.  Her knees bounced slightly, working up the courage to attempt her Master’s test.

    “Do not let fear control you, focus on your goal.”

    “And if I fall?”

    “Do not think of what is below you; think of yourself already on the other side.”

    Tift took a few steps back and a few more breaths, and then she ran for the edge.  The Force aided her legs, pushing her beyond humanoid capabilities… but it wasn’t enough.  She was falling.



    Her body twitched as the dream startled her awake.  She tried to move, but her limbs were stiff and her head was pounding.  It took her a few seconds to realize that she was also bound at her wrists and ankles and the memory of the little blue alien with his net device and poison darts came back to her with a groan.  It was just a simple rope that had her restrained, but the knots were well-tied and simply squirming out of them would be a feat.  Unsteadily she pushed herself into a sitting position to try and take stock of her surroundings.

    It was a small, circular primitive hut, though probably didn’t feel small to its owner.  The ceiling was high with many nooks and shelves that were far too high for her to reach but would work well for a flying being.  The ground was ferns laid over dirt, but at least it was dry.  There was a window on the far wall, and though it was still light out, the sun was hanging low, the day nearly spent.

    A glint of metal caught her eye.  A large, ancient tree stump which must have been what the Toydarian used for a table or work station.  On it she recognized the things that had been in her possession: a multitool, a broken compad she had hoped to fix, various computer components from the pod that hadn’t been fried, an empty water canteen, and a pair of lightsabers.  Master and Apprentice.

    Tift stared at the weapon of the Jedi, tried to pull it to her with the Force, but it took her too long to focus on the thread she needed to pull.  The door made of large sticks tied together with rope swung open and her captor hovered in.  He caught sight of her sitting up immediately and fluttered over to her, an excited grin on his large face.

    “The pincher is awake! Hard to judge, smaller than a sludge panther, but more fight I think!”  He pointed a thick finger at her,  “Won’t be taking my Gabaki now, but I think the things you stole worth more than Gabaki!”

    Tift squinted at the creature.  He was speaking basic, sort of, he was talking quickly and she wasn’t exactly sure what he was going on about, but she did take notice of the jug sloshing in his hands.  “Is that water?”  Clumsily she started to push herself up onto the wall and tried to stand up.

    “Oh-oh, slowly now, human pincher.  I give you this,”  he jiggled the jug slightly then jerked his head back towards the table.  “You tell me who you stole lazer sword from, deal yes?”

    Her confused look changed into one of irritation.  She wasn’t a thief and that term was completely incorrect--but she wanted the water.  “I was… a prisoner of the Jedi in the pod.  She died and I took her stuff.  Water, now.”  Tift held out her bound hands towards the Toydarian.

    Repeeshee studied her for a second then slowly hovered closer to her, hand with the jug outstretched.  As soon as it was within reach, Tift snatched it from him and he nodded, seemingly confirming that only a pincher would take so quickly what they wanted.

    “I would think Jedi prisoners more dangerous!”  He watched as the red-skinned humanoid chugged away at the contents of the clay jug, messily dribbling water down her chin and the front of her torn clothes.  When finally she seemed to have had her fill, she took several deep breaths and her face changed into something more determined.

    “I am dangerous, you should let me go.”  Tift twisted her hand, again trying the Force trick that had failed her in the swamp.

    The Toydarian hovered back and forth, looking her up and down quizzically.  “Dangerous maybe not, but very peculiar little pincher criminal.”

    Crestfallen, Tift slowly finished off the rest of the water and held the jug back out to her captor.  She would have to be clever beyond a Jedi Padawan to escape.  “Have any food?”

    Repeeshee took the jug and eyed her again before zipping away.  As soon as his back had turned, Tift started shuffling her way towards the tree stump table, but only made it a few steps before a small periwinkle sphere came darting at her head.  Startled, she managed to catch the fruit and nonchalantly took a bite, trying to play off that she wasn’t making a move for the lightsaber.

    A few bites into the fruit, Tift paused and looked towards the door with an alarmed look on her face that twisted into panic and fear.  “Who did you tell?! Who knows I’m here?!”

[SWSF Eidolon]

  ..Repeeshee hovered in place with a raised brow line as the girl grew rapidly anxious.  He began to reply before a familiar distant repulsor-whine caught his attention,

   "I didn't tell anyone. . ."

   [*muffled* wheeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWhEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE*]

   Nervously alert, he darted to his door way seeming to forget about keeping an eye on his captive and out, up to the thatched roof top of his humble hut.  The seasonal early dusk was setting already and he could see little, but he put a hand to his ear and extended his neck outward.  The distinct repulsor whine was echoed several times and joined with a loud whooping of a much heavier craft as the mechanical harmony drew nearer.

   He zipped back down and in to his home, though noticing the girl standing where she wasnt a moment ago, the fact that her hands were still tied quickly cooled his investigative awareness.  The fact that her ankles were no longer bound escaped him as he hurriedly ushered her in to a small separate room and pulled a wooden moss covered door closed.  As he fluttered back to his huts door, the whooping and whine had grown quickly deafening before fading to single idle hum.  The now empty stump table briefly drew his attention as he'd zipped by but the connection wasn't made in the haste of the moment.

  His door swung open before he could grab the handle himself and was thrown back slightly as the Royal Constable he'd encountered earlier triumphantly led the way in for a pair of much more important seeming officials,

  "That's him Sirs, Repeeshee the Oktos Outcast they call him."

  Repeeshee was caught off guard by the invoking of his old nick-name.  It'd been some time since he heard it, and it still evoked the same anger as when he'd heard it before,

  "Ha! If I'm Outcast then why come bothere me! No, Come back already to evict poor little Repeeshee huh!? You new government types, a lot of pinchers yourselves!" he boldly exclaimed now working himself up in to anger, as he swooped his fluttering hover in closer and bumped the familiar Constable in the gut, a slap in the face amongst Toydarians and a pay back for when the two had encountered each other earlier.

   One of the new important officials drew a sleek snub like blast pistol from it's holster and proclaimed himself before snobbishly addressing the angered Repeeshee as his lesser,

  "Chief Constable Sumatas, I warn you sir those words border treason as does assault of the Kings men,"

   Repeeshee backed off from the familiar constable as the more commanding individual continued,

  "Your eviction is a matter beneath me.  We're here about the pod that crashed in the Oktos.  We've reason to believe you witnessed it and took something, or someone, from it,"

   Repeeshee played dumb,

   "What crash?! I've been back for hours now making swamp fox-stew," he began motioning toward his kitchen quarter where a droid stood stirring a lightly steaming pot.

   The familiar Royal Constable pipped up with his assessment of the matter,

   "Smells like Mole-rat stew to me Sirs," he said now sternly challenging Repeeshee for air space.

   One of the two higher officials leaned in to whisper to the other who nodded, but the statement was clear.  They were in consensus to the scent of slowly stewed mole-rat.
   
   Repeeshee shot the droid a glance of betrayal as one of the three Constabulary Officials glided over to near where the red-skinned captive had been loitering before and picked up a short length of rope appearing to have been sliced.  He glanced toward the small adjacent room he'd hastily shoved Tift in as the connections clicked in his mind.  His eyes widened just as a pair of electric or slow blaster sounding hisses preceded a commotion outside in the settling evening swamp..  (TBC by Rinny!)

[Rinny]

   Perhaps the Force hadn’t abandoned her and still wanted its Knights to succeed--depending who had come to call.  The distraction however was perfectly placed and just long enough for her to grab a knife and sever her bonds and reclaim her weapons, hiding them in the folds of her clothing.  Whether it was by luck or continued good grace of the Force, her captor seemed far more nervous about his unexpected visitors than the young stranger he’d kidnapped, neglecting these very important details as he shoved her into another room.

   Tift glanced about her new surroundings as the rope around her wrists fell away, having been sliced previously but grasped in a way to fool whoever was looking that they were still tied.  In her hands she held the familiar weight of the unique weapon of the Jedi.  One more slender, newer, practically untested; the other it’s grip worn and casing scratched with the tale of many a conflict.  The room was small, no more than a closet, short shelves staggered up to the thatch ceiling some with tools others with grass woven baskets.  Tift wasn’t sure if they would hold her weight, but knew that the roof would be far easier and faster to cut through than the side of the hut.

   Attaching one of the lightsabers to her belt and the other firmly in her grip, she carefully, yet quickly, scrambled from shelf to shelf.  At the last step, the ice blue beam shot out from the hilt and cut effortlessly through the dried chaff that made up the roof of the hut.  As softly as she could, she crept across the top of the blue alien’s home, the Force continuing to aid in lightening her steps.  Below her she could see more of the fluttering blue aliens, some with fancy hats and medals to make them look more important--but to her relief there weren’t any of the grey uniformed Imperials.

   The title of Jedi will not help you now.  The Force is now a perilous ally--a danger to you and those who have the misfortune to cross your path.

   If they see it--you will have to kill them.  Survival is all that matters.

   There were two thoughts that hung in her head.  The first she knew, they were the words of her Master; the last sad, terrible lesson the Twi’lek had taught her Padawan.  The second, perhaps it was the fear in her mind.  The fear of what had befallen those surrounded by the clones, their allies, and a reminder of the trembling terror of what had happened at Kessel.  The second saber clicked onto her belt and she crouched down low, readying for the assault.

   With a quick intake of breath, the Zeltron woman leapt from her spot above, crashing into one of the fat, fluttering blue bodies below her.  Whether he was out cold or dead, Tift didn’t spare that Toydarian another thought once he was sprawled out on the ground unmoving.  Nearby another one was sputtering and trying to wrench a small blaster from a holster, but Tift still had surprise on her side as she surged back onto her feet, vaulting at the other guard and sending her elbow squarely into his snout.  With a yelp the alien flitted back and fell back against the hut, momentarily stunned, a gout of purple-tinged blood erupting from his nose.

   There was another; he must have been behind one of the vehicles and escaped her field of vision.  A red bolt shot past her, narrowly missing.  Tift turned, an angry scowl on her face now finding herself with little choice.  Before the next bolt could come her way, the ice blue beam of light appeared in front of her, deftly deflecting away the incoming fire.  What the Padawan lacked in focus, in making the Force a willing participant, she made up for in her skill with the blade.  Even with the youngling training weapons, the sword was an extension of her being, a testament to her connection with the Force.

   With a flick of her wrist, the final burst of fire was sent back towards her hovering blue foe, shock etched on his wrinkled face as the bolt struck him dead center in the chest.

   Now the other one.

   Tift startled as the thought shot across her consciousness.  She turned back to where the still dazed Toydarian sat on the ground holding his still bleeding trunk.  “No, he’s not a threat,”  she said aloud.

   They all are.  If they tell Darth Vader--the Jedi hunter.  They’re no match for you; kill them now before they betray you.

   The beam of light retreated back into the slender cylinder.  She was afraid; scared of being alone and of what was to come.  “Fear is the…”  her quiet words trailed off as she turned away from the blubbering Toydarian and the hut.

   There was shouting and a commotion from inside the hut, letting her know she was taking too long in her escape.  Far too much contemplation when she should be moving.  There was a cluster of swoop bikes, none of which looked large enough for an average sized humanoid.  Thankfully there was also a boxy speeder craft, it also unfortunately had the large logo of its owners painted on the side of it, but at this point it was the only option.  Tift flipped switches and pushed buttons, the craft slowly humming back to life.  She ducked her head as the vehicle rocked slightly, assuming more shorts were coming her way.

   The speeder jerked forward and sped off into the swamp.  It would be several long seconds before Tift noticed the stowaway in the craft with her.

[SWSF Eidolon]

 


  ...as Repeeshee exited his besieged abode behind the trio of Royal Constables the commotion was immediately identified as much more of a ruckus.  He bumped in to one of his previous would be interrogators who themselves froze in shock at the sight of what amounted to a dazzling display of dexterity from the perspective of the awkwardly floating avians.  The two on either side of the most senior figure simply bolted in either direction, hopping aboard their own or perhaps someone elses diminutive swoops and zipping off.  By now Repeeshee had bumbled quickly back in to his hut and was frantically gathering up what must have been prized or valued possessions.  A satchel bursting at the seems with some blackish-purplish fungus substance and a small ornate drinking horn.  He paused as he had nearly exited the mud sculpted domicile and doubled back, fluttering up to one of the huts highest shelf-nooks.  He pulled out a tattered old looking piece of rope with several distinctly different little do-dads dangling from it.  A talisman perhaps of some sort.  As he exited he bid the old droid farewell, "I'll be back Roxsy!  Keep an eye out for pinchers!".  The archaic droid took a brief stock of it's surroundings before abandoning it's post at the small rustic kitchenette section at a slow lumbering waddled rate with what could perhaps be taken as a shrug in the limitied articulation of such an old droids body language.

   Outside, the senior Constable furrowed his brow as his underlings either fled or met their abrupt defeat in various forms. He took a moments aim with his still clenched blaster as he hovered in place and fired.

   It missed, but the formidable being took notice of him.  The Constable, more determined and experienced than his lesser compatriots, squeezed off another quick pair of successive blasts.  She deflected them with her light sword.  The consuming burning sensation seemed apparent the moment the reality of the second blast dawned on him.  There was no follow up thought as his being had ceased before hitting the ground with a squishy thud.

   Repeeshee had again frozen in place upon exiting the hut, a shocked witness to the carnage the enraged stranger who'd crashed in to his swamp left in her wake.  He barely had composure enough to consider why she simply hadn't killed him and taken whatever she wanted of his in the first place if she was this dangerous.  At any rate, this much blood was bound to bring more.  He was no stranger to trouble with the Royal authorities, but this kind of stain won't fade quickly.  He'd already had the plan B for the worst case scenario in place long ago when the new Royals first took issue of his territorial claims.  He'd have to leave Toydaria, and there was only one place or person to which he could go. 

   Pachanga.

   As the blast from the snobbish Constable struck him in the chest and sent him rolling over dropping to the ground, Repeeshee had flinched and kept his eyes closed briefly, being only meters away.  As he peaked one eye open, the girl was darting toward the large idling hover-truck in which, barring this tumult, they'd both surely have been captives in the back of.  Repeeshee wasted no time in sending all of his mass and might hurtling toward the back of that speeder-truck before it darted away in to the swamp. A dejected and angry Toydarian oddly standing on the ground with a blood-stained webbed-hand covering his snout didn't notice that he'd stood himself up directly in the path of the hurtling Repeeshee.  Just as he was taking a one handed aim at the red-skinned woman with the small blaster he'd managed to finally remove from it's holster, he heard the thunk but nothing after as the back of his head met a blunt object of some sort that quickly dashed ahead of his now thoroughly wracked vision while he again dropped to the damp earth.  Not quite unconscious, he groaned with his bloodied snout burried in the mud, either purely shocked or resigned to defeat, no longer making any attempt to assuage his pain or enforce his duties.

   Repeeshee somehow plucked his blaster from the air or his hand in the nuance of the moment.  The hover-truck seemed to peel off in to the Oktos swampland as he thumped against the back wall adjoining the vehicles cab compartment.  Looking back, as the dim flickering light of his homes windows disappeared in to the darkness of the swamp and the hover-trucks engine drowned out the usual night time symphony of the bayou, he resolved to one day return to his land and assert his claim.

   Turning he momentarily inspected and interacted with a panel opening a small door as he climbed in to the cab, it took the vehicles driver a moment to notice her traveling companion.  Repeeshee had expected her displeasure and held the small blaster pistol tight and closely to his chest but assuredly center mast of her total form.. (TBC jointly by the Chocolate Milk Queen and the Hashish Hawthrone-Hack)