#jackcody

[warmwaterfreak]

Brew #364: Jack Cody’s Curly Hole Samhain Ale

Abv: 4.5%

Served: From the fridge

Aroma: Straw, nuts, malt, faint cherry

Pour: Clear light brown with a finger of off white froth

Taste: Light smoky malts with nutty fruits in the background. There’s a hint of cherry in the finish with a crisp bite but no apricots anywhere. A decent little brew if a little middling flavourwise.

Notes: 500ml bottle, sour cherries, apricots, brown ale, seasonal brew

[warmwaterfreak]

Brew #222: Jack Cody’s Hail Glorious St. Patrick Extra Stout

ABV: 6.3%

Served: Off the shelf

Aroma: Coffee, vanilla, chocolate

Pour: Brown black with bubbling tan froth

Taste: Medium carbonation, black coffee wash with some light roasted and burnt notes. Gives way to the vanilla at the finish with a light bite and bitterness. Aftertaste of vanilla which is lovely. Good stuff.

Notes: 330ml bottle, espresso beans, vanilla pods

[warmwaterfreak]

Brew #72: Jack Cody’s Black Jack Drogheda Cream Stout

ABV: 4.6%

Served: Off the shelf

Aroma: Mild coffee with rich stouty notes

Pour: Black with tan froth head that stays

Taste: Coffee high in the mix running into a burnt slightly bitter middle before ending on a smoky, creamy milk finish. This is a lovely stout with a complex flavour that balances the burnt malts and lighter cream notes brilliantly. I could drink a lot of this stuff. Highly recommended.

Notes: 500ml bottle

[warmwaterfreak]

Brew #66: Jack Cody’s Puck Pilsner

ABV: 4.5%

Served: From the fridge

Aroma: Mild fruit, spice

Pour: Opaque golden amber with a frothy head that stays

Taste: Smoky upfront with a prickly mouthfeel through to a medium dry finish. Intriguing beer this, the aftertatse is slightly apple crumble-esque. I can’t pin this one down, it’s nice and crisp. A light easy drinker with good flavour.

Notes: 500ml bottle

[rhomellegacy]

Shadow Collector

Their path had been an easy one to spot, tracked across sand and sun and heat and only two of them amongst the civilian cattle, practically glowing with the Force. Unblemished and light and swirling and neither see him. Neither know he’s there. Days pass as he waits for the perfect moment. It comes near the cliffs; tusken raiders a decent distraction amongst the gaping stone maws, splintered cracks in the earth that disappear into the underground and he sweeps in during the confusion.

He picks the smaller Jedi from the convoy’s herd and closes in before they sense the threat. Just another tusken perhaps; dusty robes and his mask one of bone rather than metal. The rattataki shouts in alarm and the other spins but they’re both through the gaping stone jaws and underground in the time it takes to blink. Sunlight shafts score down to the piled sand below and he paces as the young Jedi picks himself up off the ground and ignites his lightsaber.

“Who-...”

They both pause, people shouting down from the mouth of the cave opening and he slinks in toward the Jedi. The Jedi’s lightsaber comes up, flashes on hot and colorful and he reaches for his own and bathes a halo around him in red. Tattooed lips gape open, eyes worried in the come-and-go shadows as they move across the floor.

“Never seen a sith before,” he muses on a rich chuckle and shifts a little closer and Sees it as the Jedi retreats. He’s good at finding echos and the little one is full of them. Whatever he was whispers behind him in sketchy silhouettes and when he moves there’s grace there that surpasses training and is very much part of his past. Uncertainty flares and that bright light of the Force snaps those echoes down into a singularity once more.

The game changes.

The lightsaber is placed back on his hip as he follows after, the golden gleam of jeweled claws catching the light as he shifts his stance and gives slow, patient chase. Hunts the Jedi across the floor while the shouts above organize into action. He’s running short on time.

This one is young, doesn’t know his path as surely as he could. The sith leaps in, hits the ground and the resulting shockwave slams the rattataki into the stone pillar behind him. A breath and he’s on top of him, hand closing about the wrist and wrenching his lightsaber high as he pins him against the pillar with his body. Panic, sweet in it’s bitterness, washes over him.

“Shh.” He’s taller and broader both than the rattataki and watches as his expression pinches into confusion and worry as he tries to see past the mask and can’t. He holds him firmly against the pillar, broad hand spread against his chest and thighs pressed against the Jedi’s. Fingers slip past the first layer of robe to press to the fringe of the second. He’s got no face, no smile and the polished bone of his mask is sunwarmed where it touches the smaller Jedi’s skin; the thick fangs of the long-dead-thing grazing his cheek.

Jeweled claws tick against the piercings studding his chin. One, two, three, four and he presses the point of a thumb past closed lips and into the Jedi’s mouth, deeper until he scrapes a thumb along his tongue and feels that panic again. Confused and pained and the Force so frantic around him and unchanneled still as he pulls higher on the Jedi’s wrist, stands him straighter until his shoulder pulls painfully. There’s action and there’s reaction, that echo comes back and the wide eyes fixed on his mask are full of things he’d like to swallow whole.

Body pressed against the Jedi’s, his heart drums a bit harder and soars - he could turn him, perhaps, with enough time. Time he doesn’t have today. Not to the full dark, no, but the possibilities here are endless. The Jedi jerks and tries to twist his head away. Tries to dislodge the thumb following the slick curve of his tongue and the hot weight of the sith pressed against him.

As quick as he was there, he steps back and the young Jedi is left reeling as he’s let go of completely. The lightsaber hits the ground at the sith’s feet and the mask watches him impassively as forefinger and thumb spread the thin shine of saliva over gold until the heat wicks it away.

“Pick up your lightsaber.”

Help isn’t far. A rope slithers to the ground from the ceiling’s mouth and the Jedi hesitates. Lloran will be there in a moment.

“Pick it up.”

The sith is still uncomfortably close, echoes spilling hard and fast from them both and eventually, eventually he bends to retrieve it while trying to avoid touching the stranger.  Fingers grope across gritty sand and stone because looking away would be dangerous.

Approval rumbles loose from behind the polished bone mask; eye sockets empty and black. Lloran’s feet hit the ground.

Accelerated by the Force, the sith spins and vanishes into one of the darkened tunnel mouths creating the labyrinthine underground system and Halkes sags as Lloran reaches him. Relief is punctuated by worry, a last whisper caught in stillness.

Next time.