It wasn't often that Nalexa had any free time. Not with the extra classes she was taking, in order to continue to be a proficient member of the Imperial army, and more importantly, a particular special forces regiment, but this week-long hiatus was damn nice.
Hot men, hot women. Dancers. Everything that she liked to look at when she wasn't up to her ears in medical terminology. Nar Shaddaa was great for that. So as she leaned back in her chair, muscular arms behind her head to watch the show, she wasn't really expecting conversation. Everyone around here was surely concentrating more on the dancers, right?
But when she felt a tapping on one broad shoulder, and a whispered "psst" in her ear, she politely turned to look at the tall man-- even taller than her, and that was saying something. "What can I help you with?" The Zabrak had a clear Imperial accent, but a faint smile on her tattooed face.
"Drink?" came the reply, a wide grin on the man's face, showing off some crooked teeth.
Nalexa shook her head. "No thank you."
"Come on, loosen up...ooh! What's with you eye?"
The polite look faded into something much more sinister and Nalexa slowly stood up to her own height of 6'2", crossing her large arms in front of her chest. "I said no thank you."
A pout formed on the mans face and he tried one more time. "Come on, sweetcakes. Just a drink and I'll tell ya all abo--"
Normally, Nalexa was fairly calm. But she was trying to enjoy the dancers and without even thinking about it, her right hand swung around in a hook toward the man with the blue mohawk's nose, hitting it with a satisfying crunch.
"OI! The hell was that for!?"
Blood was spurting out of his nose and he quickly placed his hands over it. "I jus' wanted t'get ya a driiiink.."
"I said no thank you." Last time she was going to say it.
Snorting back some of the blood, the guy lowered one hand from his nose and extended it in an offered handshake. "Well fimd themb, m'Rax," he introduced. "Lemme know whemb ya wanna drink."
He just couldn't get the hint, could he? With a sigh, Nalexa yanked the offered hand and pulled him toward her, swiftly turning the guy around and grabbed him by the hip.
With a grunt, and before he could really react, she had him up in the air. There was a reason the Zabrak's callsign was Benchpress. "I. Said. No."
Two reps and she set Rax back down, breathing heavily. That was one damn heavy man, and she hadn't actually been sure she could pull it off. But by the look on her face, she knew it was worth it.
He was staring at her wide-eyed, with the goofiest grin ever. She rolled her eyes at him and turned around to head out of the club-- surely another would be calmer.
...It was a good thing he waited until she was out of earshot to speak.
Several characters featured in this, with at least a cameo appearance. Basically, everyone who asked and a few who didn't. <3 And a few who didn't offer their own characters for #swtaw, but get it anyway.
Hiromochi's Mittens
thatonethingandplace's Krek
Missy-Kenobi's Gwenny-Lyn
Esperkitty's Karia
Savagebooby's Janila
funk-yeah's Birdy
Hiddennight's Lio
Ezroad's Ez and Ash
..and my own Damry with my husband's Siyrus.
ALSO! 50,000 credits to the first person to get the St. Louis Cardinals reference in there. :D ShutUpILoveMyTeam and no my love, you don't count because I know you'll get it.
“Listen up! These are the rules of Huttball!”
The crowd roared as soon as Baron Deathmark’s voice came over the loudspeaker, drowning out the rest of his words. It wasn’t like it mattered though, as everyone, from the fans to the athletes, knew exactly what the announcer was going to say.
Everyone, after all, knew that cheating was encouraged and not to kick the ball. That would be highly rude to their Hutt hosts.
As the deafening cheers continued, in the arena below the two teams stood in their boxes waiting impatiently for the buzzer to sound and the force field keeping them in place to go down.
The current match-up was the Frog Dogs versus the Rotworms, one of the biggest rivalries in the sport. Earlier this evening, the reigning champions, Manka Marauders, had decimated the Balding Banthas...but that was to be expected from the last place team in the league. Throughout the stadium now though, the red and black banners for the Manka Marauders were changing to purple or yellow, as the main event was about to begin.
And then the buzzer went off. The moment the shields went down, the eight players on each team poured from their boxes, racing toward the middle of the field and the small blue ball that was their ultimate goal.
The noise of the crowd abated somewhat as the two teams started their deathmatches in the arena below. Sensors on their armored uniforms took note of the various blows, counting the damage until the player was “killed” and sent back to their box.
One of the players, a Rotworm tank, managed to slip away from two damage-dealers and grab the ball, jumping over the acid pit on her way toward the Frog-Dogs goal. Countless blaster bolts flew at her, but she seemed to shrug it off, with a little healer running backward in front of him, keeping the fake kolto injections going.
But he was soon targeted by several others, and like the squishy healer he was, soon went down, being sent back to the Rotworm box. Within seconds, the armored tank was down as well.
“ROTWORM BALL HANDLER IS DOWN!”
Both cheers and jeers erupted from the crowd. In the bleacher seats, a brown-haired young man jumped up, flailing his arms around wildly, screaming happily. “YEAH!” he shouted, much to the chagrin of a yellowish-greenish twi’lek sitting next to him.
“Shut up!” she said sharply. “We’re gonna get you back! Frog-dogs are going DOWN!”
“Oh yeah?” The man retorted, turning slightly to tower over her. “I think you’re wrong! Nyeh!”
In the row above the two, a redheaded woman sitting between a Cathar child a young Miraluka woman placed a gloved hand over her face. “Siyrus! Hush!” came her order, hissed out between fingers. “You’re embarrassing me! Leave Janila alone!”
Siyrus smirked. “Yes, mother,” he said, sitting back down to watch the action while the twi’lek looked back up at Damry, giving her a smile. “You really ain’t that bad for a Sith.”
With a rolling of her eyes, Damry too turned her attention back down to the field just as a player unstealthed at the goal line in time to catch the ball being thrown from the fire pit before that particular Frog-dog ‘burned’ in it. Just as he was wooshed back to the starting box, the other player managed to step over the goal right before being burned down himself.
“FROG DOGS SCORE!”
The arena erupted in cheers, with fans waving around yellow flags in support of their team. Siyrus jumped up and down like a child again, while Janila leaned over, placing her chin in her hands with a harumph.
Muttering softly, Damry turned to the woman to her right, whispering in the girls ear. “I know this might not seem like it’s training, but I assure you, there is a reason for it, Karia.” The Miraluka shrugged, not saying anything, but appeared to understand. Or at least act like she did.
With the ball reset, the players once again returned to mid, trying to ‘kill’ each other for the ball. A massive skirmish at mid, no one could seem to keep control of it until a Rotworm yelled something to his teammates and a stun grenade went off. All of the Rotworm players momentarily paused their attacks, giving the team a full three seconds to get ahead of the Frog-Dogs.
As they proceeded down the field, the Cathar at Damry’s left tugged on her arm. “Why don’t they have real huttball, where people actually get hurt and die?” the kid asked, a huge grin on his furred face. “I want to see that! I want to see real blood and real blasters!”
...She still wasn’t sure if the Cathar was psychotic, a compulsive liar, or just being a teenaged boy.
Before she could answer, the crowd started screaming again, while the Rotworm ball handler made a full run across the catwalks, never even needing a pass to reach the goal. Tied game!
Janila was quickly on her feet and cheering loudly, along with several others in the area. The raucous crowd didn’t stop when the ball went back to mid, a quick Rotworm player nabbing it before the Frog-Dogs could again.
“GO! GO! RUN PASS, NO, PASS I SAID! NOT LIKE THAT” another spectator yelled, a man sitting two seats down from Janila. His cybernetics glimmering,, he seemed to really be getting into the game..but once Baron Deathmark’s call over the loudspeaker of the pass being intercepted came over, he started to mutter under his breath angrily. “It was better when Sike Mannon was announcing these,” he grumbled out.
Frog-Dog fans revitalized, almost the entire arena was standing up and screaming now, aside from a few here and there. One in particular, a beautiful white haired woman, might not have been cheering and screaming and standing, but she was leaning forward, watching the match with intense interest. Lips pursed, she took careful note of everyone playing-- their moves, their movements, and exactly how they played.
She glanced across the field, blue eyes staring intently. And then she slowly smiled, adding her clapping of hands to the cheers. Whatever she was looking for, Gwenny-lyn apparently found.
The match continued, the two teams going back and forth, wickedly destroying each other in creative ways. A grappling hook pulling the ball handler into the acid pit, or a kinetic burst of energy to push someone into the fake-- but still painful, flames. Stuns and stealth used often, the clock ticked down to the final minute with the score still tied at one and one.
The atmosphere of the arena was like electricity. Even the more quiet fans were on their feet, breathlessly watching the two teams go at it with even greater intensity. With the scored tied as it was, and the clock ticking down, it was still anyone’s game.
The fighting and ball running heightened, and with ten seconds left on the clock, the Rotworms were holding the ball deep in their own endzone. Every healer was focused on their handler, while the damage dealers were doing their best to pick off Frog-Dog’s away from said healers.
Five..
Four…
About to die, the Rotworm ball handler passed, just to get it intercepted by a Frog-Dog healer. Accidentally, of course. The healer stared at the ball for half a second before he was burned down, putting the ball back into Rotworm hands just as the buzzer sounded.
A massive roar came from the crowd at the last second win, purple banners being waved all over the seats. Fans jumped up and down screaming, excited for their teams win. Near the box seats, a mirialan man made a face, as two other men held their hands out in front of him, silently asking for credits. The blond kept a completely straight look, while the brunet grinned, looking altogether too pleased with himself.
And at the arena entrance, another young man stood silently by himself, watching the aftermath of the match with a small smile on his face. One hand in his pocket, the other ran through his hair, revealing a few tiny horns hidden in his brown locks. The smile then turned to a look of contentment as he turned to leave the stadium.
...Hey, beating the crowd out was better than the win!
Down on the field, the Rotworm players were jumping all over each other, tackling each other to the ground. Some sort of blue liquid-- surely that couldn’t be blue milk, was poured from a cooler on top of the final ball handler, the damage dealer that managed to take down that healer with two seconds to go to nab the ball from him.
An air of carnival, of excitement, of pure happiness permeated through the stadium, the Rotworms fans exhilaration easily outdoing the Frog-dog fans disappointment. Baron Deathmark said a few final words, and the field was reset for the next match.
The Silver Snakes and the Blue Barracudas were up next!
When I saw her picture in the tag, I immediately fell for kotorswtor's Ellekai. Something about the way she just OWNS that hat made me happy. And since I knew there was no way my doodles would do justice to her, she gets a ficlet instead. I love the idea of Jedi combat medics too.
The soldier was almost dead when he reached her. Bleeding from his chest, where a projectile weapon had torn through his armor, he was pale and there was a hint of blue coloring around his lips. His comrades had brought him back to base camp, dragging him through the muddy jungle away from the Sith troops. Air support was impossible in this battle.
Time was not on their side, as the military medics moved to take the injured man to a cot, off the shoulders of the other soldiers. A full-on kolto infusion was definitely going to be needed-- but they had to get him stabilized first. One of the medics, a human woman with her black hair pulled back in a tight bun, went for a trauma kit, while another, a nautolan man, grabbed a massive amount of kolto infusions.
Ellekai watched this for just a mere moment. She wasn't normally a part of this particular unit, stationed on Taris, but was called in at the last moment to assist in the clandestine war effort. And it appeared as though her skills were needed.
Robes swishing as she hurried over to the medical bed, the Jedi positioned herself at the top, taking the injured soldiers head in both gloved hands. He barely responded, nearly unconscious from the loss of blood. She looked down at the wound. It was beginning to make an odd noise, one she sadly recognized. "An occlusive bandage, now," she ordered softly, but with the authority she knew she had.
The medics quickly responded and she kept the soldiers head cradled in her hands. Modern medicine could only do so much, and she closed her eyes to focus. The Force, in her capable hands, could heal. She could make it do such.
Tuning out the sounds of the medics muttering among themselves, she concentrated on the sucking chest wound, the way the air was entering his body the wrong way, through the large open laceration in his bloody torso. Ellekai could feel the medics working to get the proper bandage on, one that would release the air, but not draw anymore in, but she was starting to worry about the internal damage now. A lung had been hit, that much was obvious.
The Force though, it didn't care so much about anatomy, and what was easily survivable. She continued to concentrate, weaving healing energy around the patient. Eyes opening for just a second, she looked at his face... so young, this trooper. And something about him reminded her of someone else, someone quite important...
That thought almost distracted her, and she quickly abandoned it. Instead she focused more of the Force, to a point where it was almost painful. Not to mention exhausting. With a slight grimace, the healing energy continued, knitting together inner flesh, pulling together ripped pieces of the damaged organ.
This continued for longer than expected, and it wasn't until one of the medics lightly tapped her on the shoulder that she came out of what could only be considered a healing trance that Ellekai opened her eyes once more to look at the patient. Some color had returned to his cheeks and his lips were no longer blue.
"We're movin' him to the kolto tank now, Master Jedi," the Nautolan medic said softly.
With a nod, Ellekai lightly caressed the troopers cheek in a rather motherly gesture. "Very well." It seemed he would survive, and she would simply have to wait for the next casualty. Over and over until she was done here, and could return to normal business. And the one she loved.
I meant to share this a while ago, but never did. See, I still can't draw for shit (working on it though!), but I sure can play awesome virtual barbies!
This is my friend Nick's Izy. Awesome Chiss of awesome doom.
Clothes and hair are bought, but I made the the skin in Photoshop myself, then uploaded it to the platform, and also made the eyes and shape in-world. So it wasn't all playing Barbies, I did have to create a few things myself.
Would you mind if I killed you?
Would you mind if I tried to?
'cause you have turned into my worst enemy
You carry hate that I don't feel
It's over now
What have you done?
