P-Sempai

The Children of Tython It is a time of turmoil in the Galaxy, The Sith Empire, encroaching ever further into Republic business, push them ever closer to breaking the treaty of Coruscant. The Jedi Order, confronted with the face of evil opposing them, Have deployed themselves across the known Galaxy, to combat the growing Sith menace. Many Jedi have formed together, creating organisations within the Order, to better defend against the Empire. The Children of Tython are one such group, sworn to defend the Republic from the Empire's evil. In space above Kuat, they prepare to move against the Empire... --- Act 1, Chapter One: A Brig

The breeze blew along the street, through alleyways and loose doors, but nothing rattled or moved, out of reverence for the unfolding moment. At either end of the street, two men stood. They faced each other down with a tense silence.  They were static; holding themselves rigidly with their arms poised at their sides, inches from their holsters, but neither moved. They were unperturbed when the wind played through their hairs and coat tails, lingering in the moment before whisking away. Under the brim of his hat, the man gazed out at his opponent, and at the other side of the street he gazed back. His eyes narrowed and his fingers curled sl

Find Your Way. Chapter 1: Shuffle or Boogie Adan had arrived about half an hour after curfew had ended. His shoes rattled the mesh iron walkway leading to the Secret Area. Since his classes earlier that day, he'd dressed down from his SeeD trainee uniform, opting for a simple white T-shirt and loose jeans; he wasn't dressing to impress. He was mildly surprised that Zetal had gotten there before him, considering how soon after curfew it was, but remembering the urgency with which Zetal had appeared to want to see him, Adan supposed it wasn't all that shocking really. Like Adan, Zetal had left behind his uniform and chosen to wear something

The sun set slowly over the horizon of Coruscant, casting long, lazy shadows through the warm, yellow atmosphere. Coruscant's sun was too far away to be really noticed, but the solar satellites and natural light created a more than stunning spectacle every evening as the hemisphere turned slowly away from the sun, but certainly not from its work. Watching this simple, yet beautiful display, as he often did, was Terran Cuss. Long since washed and changed from the fight earlier that day, he leant heavily on the balustrade of the balcony he occupied, allowing the weariness of the day to flow out of him and into the cold stone. Behind him, insid

Throwing caution to a breeze, To snatch it back again. Stealing short, brief lines of hope, From Fear's immortal den A darkened room, a dreamless sleep, Awake to aches of truth, Eyelids stuck, yet drumming down, Lethargically aloof. Repeating visions, haunting doubts, Clinging like a creep. Too despondent for a smile, Not sad enough to weep. Roaming, floating, drifting through, A non-committing space. Where undetermined; fear or farce? This purgatory place. Yet purgatory's dull and patient, There are no sins to sell. Wandering twixt noon and night, This is the depth of hell. A growing fear, a ticking clock, Anticipating

PBlade slowly tilted his spoon and watched the unidentifiable grey gloop reluctantly bulge and roll its way down the implement, slowly nearing the edge.  PBlade held it there a moment, watching the greyscale mass hover on the edge of oblivion, before finally tipping the spoon over and letting it drop. It seemed to hang in the air a moment, suspended by its own inanimate, neutral meaningless, before plopping back into the bowl. It became immediately indistinguishable from the rest of the food; another anonymous casualty to the all powerful spoon. PBlade laughed; a harsh, mirthless laugh that made him feel ultimately worse rather than better.

“They’re moving” the Machinist Operative looked briefly away from the barrel of his PSG1 at the Agent above him, then returning to his telescopic observation of the situation. “Do you have a shot?” the suited man demanded coolly, not bothering to hide himself from any potential attack. “No.” the prone man replied, “I just know they’re moving. They’ve been quiet for too long. And I know PBlade” he added with a wry smile, “I know how he thinks, Gray”. The Agent—Agent Gray--looked down at the sniper, his features blank. “Do not allow what you think you know about this

The Megacity Grand Library dominated the birds-eye view of the city sector, its illustrious, sweeping architecture reminiscent of the time it was constructed, allegedly, and its ornate central dome allowing light to seep delicately into the building, lighting it in such a way only Libraries ever seem to be lit. Within this center of academia, this hub of information, a small group of people hurried through with information of a different kind. The kind you don't usually find in a book. A quartet of Operatives charged through one of the central aisles, one twitching out of the way as a bullet thwipped past and lodged itself into one of the bo

The two lightsaber blades danced along one another chastely; never locking long enough to struggle, crashing and buzzing as their Padawan users darted around one another, letting out a brief flash of light every time they connected. Thrumming through the air, the two blades gained some respite as the Jedi-to-be made distance between each other after their short, but intense struggle. The air was thick with tension and humid with sweat. The hum of the two lightsabers became the incarnation of the anxiety between them. Above the arena, in transparent viewing boxes, Jedi of all ranks watched the proceedings; potential Masters paying particular