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  1. One of the finest wines along the Permilian Trade route comes from one of the most eclectic towns the galaxy has produced. It was a town of unlikely chance, born of honor, rebellion, and love. The sudden end of the Clone Wars brought many by surprise, particularly those fighting on its front lines. Following the execution of Count Dooku and Order 66, Separatist forces across the galaxy were in disarray. Then, the droids shut down; their one way to distance themselves from the violence, and preserve their own humanity, gone. Nemoidian commanders on Felucia were caught in mid-air when their droid staff suddenly crumpled. With their shuttle spinning out of control, their commander personally brought the ship down in a small valley, burying the nose in the mossy dirt. He had thought quickly, with his droids shutting down there would be no escape into orbit and no holdout strong enough to stop the clones. They scuttled their shuttle, sharpened their spears, and waited. Nothing happened. The new Empire overlooked their crash site. Other Separatist officers and ships were called into the valley. All kinds of shuttles and warships were downed strategically in the choke points of valley and the Nemoidian officers dug into the rock. They would holdout and wait for whatever sacrifice their duty demanded. Still nothing happened so they began to farm. When they needed supplies they traded. When they had a surplus they invested. When they found their true calling, they cultivated. It was the finest wine ever known to Felucia, wrought from years of meticulously nurtured vines, strict fermentation standards, and the artistry of an ancient culture. Today the town is still small but the people are secure and their larva pools, started early on when the Nemoidians were unsure if their species even survived the war outside, now gives them the permanence to strike out from their wasteland holdout on Felucia to a new prominence in the galaxy.
  2. *Your entry has earned 4 XP* Mato's Tale: Chapter V They left the farmlands and forests behind and crossed into what Yigs called “Bur Wend”, the main settlement of this colony. At its head, overlooking a lake, stood an elaborate building. It was practically a palace, though nothing at all like the palaces built by the Hutts. This was much fancier and more elegant, but It had obviously been part of the fighting when this place was taken from the Imperials; the building was held up in multiple places with scaffolding, and walls had been partially patched with off-color stone. Mato raised an eyebrow. “Swanky place.” “Isn’t it?” Yigs agreed. “It used to be an Imperial Governor’s Palace. The guy in charge of rebuilding says it’s an example of ‘neo-Naboo classical’, whatever that means. He's real handy, but I'm not sure if he's ever actually studied. Now it’s part town-hall, part community center, part market. We all just call it the House. Let’s go, Ko-Yode is inside.” They entered its gates, crossed through a marketplace cluttered with stalls and merchants, and entered a section of the building being used for administration. They reached a lakeside galley and a gazebo where an older man stood guard, and after he exchanged a happy reunion with Yigs, they were told to wait. Someone was already meeting with Ko-Yode. The guard gave Yigs a significant, weary look, to which she sighed and rolled her eyes. Mato caught on quickly. “Techno Union?” he muttered. They both nodded. Careful and subtle, the guard cocked his head towards the gazebo. “Listen for yourself.” Yigs and Mato leaned around a parapet to catch snippets of the conversation. One voice was computerized and deep. This was the green-skinned, blue-robed Skakoan representative of the Techno Union. “If you would only consider our assistance, Steward, we would make a powerful economic ally. You are an intelligent man, you know this is true.” Another voice, calm and rich. Ko-Yode. The Steward and leader of Bur Wend, Dressed in all black robes and a golden-red cape. His hair was bushy, black and white under his jaw. He held a staff with horns tied to it, probably ceremonial. He seemed laid-back, but conviction edged his voice. “We can’t be allies, Forman. Your way of looking at our planet is incompatible with ours. You’re thinking that the world exists to serve us. That’s not it. This isn’t some prize, this is a particular place, a place I know well enough that I can honestly call it a friend. It is beloved to the people here. And we’re not here to take whatever we can carry, no. We exist here to cherish what we’ve been given, to foster its health and its flourishing. And we’re not hurting, believe me. We reap the benefits from a world well cared for every single day. That’s priceless for me and mine. Might be for you too, Foreman, if you took a minute to see what it was like.” ““If you know the planet as well as you claim, Steward, you must know that you extract below forty percent of its possible resources! How will you survive, prosper, if you do not take full advantage of the planet? Please, be reasonable. I’m sure we can come to an understanding. Our technology, as I’ve told you before, could increase your people’s profits by multiplications of hundreds!” “And wreck the ecosystem. We want to live with the planet, not in spite of it.” “Pah. That is exactly what makes this planet profitable! For the both of us, of course.” Ko-Yode’s distaste was obvious. “Not for long, with that attitude. You have anything else to say, or were you about to leave, Foreman?” There was a filtered, electronic huff. The Techno Union Foreman wasn’t pleased with being blown off so quickly. “If you will not support us—to your detriment—the Techno Union simply asks that you rescind your prior statement.” “Which one?” asked Ko-Yode with a hint of humor. “The one where I said you were vile, gutless robots who had signed away your morality to that pile of money you call a corporation?” A distorted, angry tuning. “—Yes. And—“ “—And that if anyone wants to serve Wayland, the easiest way was to reject the idea of so-called ‘civilization’ that you’ve brought to poison our planet?” “That is the statement I refer to, yes. It hurts our business, you see.” “You want to hurt my planet,” replied the black-robed man calmly. “So this seems fair to me.” The Foreman was not yet deterred. “You have much influence with the colonists here. But our methods could bring them riches a tiny settlement such as this could not imagine.” Frustrated by the Steward’s response, the electronic voice became threatening, malicious. “Many of your people are beginning to consider our superior ways. If you are not careful, you may find that they turn on you. And that will only be the beginning of the erosion of your power. But this does not have to be. If you support us, then when your people inevitably come to their senses, you will lose nothing. Do you understand what I say, Steward?” There was silence for a moment. A storm brewed inside the Steward, and it threatened to overtake the Foreman, who did not seem aware of what he’d done. There was a scoff from Ko-Yode. “Get out of my settlement, or I’ll pop you with my staff.” A buzz, and a grunt of confusion. “. . . What?” “Did you not hear me?” The black-robed man turned on the Skakoan, horned staff held lightly in his hand. “I’m not usually a violent man, but to protect my people, I’ll make a concession.” His tone hardened, from clay to stone. “Leave,” he growled. “Every moment you’re here, you desecrate my planet. Go on. Get back into orbit, Foreman.” The threat couldn’t be ignored. The conversation was over. With a final, curt bow, the Foreman retreated from the terrace, electronic mutterings following him the whole way. He brushed past Mato and Yigs in the hall, and double-taked at Mato’s appearance. The foreman examined the uncomfortable Weequay with an odd gaze. He started to speak, apparently thought better of it, and hurried away. The cold, glassy stare from behind those goggles made Mato feel uneasy, of course. The Techno Union weren’t exactly cuddly. The flowing robes are nice, but they ruin it with the sharp, metal edges. “Alright, feel free to go on in,” said the guard, once the Skakoan had gone. “Wait here,” Yigs said. “I’ll talk to him first.” Agreeing, Mato stood awkwardly in the hall, avoiding eye contact with the guard. A few minutes later, Yigs returned, looking joyful and pleased. She gestured for him to go ahead. “I’ll see you around later, I’ve got some things to look into. Take care, Mato.” Mato, surprised by their sudden parting, bowed. “Same to you. It's, ah--been an honor.” He stepped out towards the rotunda, nervousness bubbling inside him. Would he be allowed to stay? Or thrown out? He steeled himself to face what was ahead. The longer he was on this planet, the more it was true: he so badly wanted to stay.
  3. *Your entry has earned 3 XP* Mato's Tale: Chapter IV Their ship coasted through the atmosphere, breaking through the clouds into the world below. Farmland and rolling hills, covered in trees, stretched out below them. Shimmering blue lakes dotted the landscape. Mato, swelling with delight, launched himself from his chair and jabbed a finger at the view screen. He couldn’t hold it in. “Blue water! Finally!” he shouted. Yigs laughed. After requesting clearance, Yigs brought the freighter down to a landing pad near the seashore. She lowered the ramp and Mato steeled himself to go out. Yigs came up along side him and couldn't help but notice the Weequay's jitters. “You ready to see your new home?” Mato nodded, unconvincingly. What if the people of Wayland rejected him? He wasn't like them. He came from an evil life, and had done evil things. He wouldn’t blame them for running him off the planet as soon as he’d arrived. Yigs' face suddenly came into view, smiling kindly. She held out her cloak. “Here, wearing this has always made me feel better. Put that thing on.” Frowning, he took the earth-toned garment from her and tied it around his neck. He had to admit, the weight and drape of the thing did boost his confidence just the slightest. He took a deep breath and they departed the ship. A breeze blew across the landing pad, carrying the salt-scent of the ocean and the fragrances of flowers. Mato was so stunned by the smell that he stopped in his tracks and didn’t think to leave the ramp until Yigs urged him on. They passed droids and humans and non-humans working the small pad and then passed onto an unpaved road into a wooded vale. A Trandoshan and a Wookie spearfished in a nearby river. They cheered and waved when they caught sight of Yigs, while Mato stood a little ways back and watched. “Inseparable, those two,” she told him. “I’ve never seen a place where people genuinely like each other as much as on Wayland. Our leader, Ko-Yode (you’ll meet him soon) says that people in the Core Worlds despair because they’ve lost each other. They’re suspicious of their neighbors, estranged from their families, trying to get something from their friends. They try to dull the pain of not really having anyone. Out here, everyone found each other. Everyone lives for everyone else. There’s trust, and trustworthiness.” Mato understood. “It’s so . . . peaceful. Not like my homeworld at all. Is it all this . . . clean air?” “Well,” Yigs tilted her head. “It’s a lot of work, too.” They passed under wooded canopies accompanied by birdsong, crossed stone bridges, and walked besides patchwork fields and farmland where they were greeted by more colonists. There was nothing they saw at which Mato didn’t marvel. Except for when he was spooked by a butterfly, which Yigs thought was very funny. He could not have imagined a place like this existed from his pit on Nal Hutta. It was as different as could be. Wonderful, new, frightening. It made his life up until now seem like a distant, dark dream.
  4. Mato's Tale: Note: This post has minimal build involved. I hope that doesn't stretch the limits too much of what Factions is. The subject of this post is a conversation, but it's an important and meaningful one for the character, so I wanted to give it its own post. There will be more builds in future posts, promise. Thanks for sticking with me so far. Chapter VI Night was falling. Mato emerged from the galley onto the lakeside rotunda. A gnarled tree, purple blossoms dotting its branches, waved over the water. Ko-Yode, the Steward and Leader of the settlement of Bur Wend, stood on what was left of an old pier. Maybe damaged years ago in the fight against the Empire. Mato swallowed hard. This man was the key to his future. He had no idea what to expect. His face, hidden as it was by beard and eyepatch and hair, was relaxed. He was older, but Mato couldn’t tell how old. His eyes held wisdom, but revealed nothing else. Mato could only meet them for a moment before he dropped his gaze to the stones at his feet. Neither of them spoke for several moments. Mato was terrified of what the Steward might say; would he charge him with murder? Throw him out for working for the Hutt Lords? He had killed people just like the farmers he had passed coming here. Good people, helpless victims of the Hutts. He had been their tool. On their orders he had done terrible things. Sometimes he had enjoyed it. This wasn’t something he wanted to admit, but deep down he knew it was true. All of these things mounted on his soul. The weight forced his head low and his mouth closed. Finally, Ko-Yode spoke. “Yigs is something, isn’t she?” That hadn’t been the first thing he was expecting, but he welcomed any topic that wasn’t his past. Mato nodded quickly. “Yes. Full of…fire. She’s quick. Speaks well.” “I heard you two saved each other’s lives. She might as well be my sister. Thanks for that.” “Well,” Mato scratched his head. “She helped me. I am…free, now.” Ko-Yode watched him keenly, his dark eye glinting in the waning light of evening. His tone was calm, friendly. “I’m glad. Welcome to Wayland. Do you have anywhere to sleep?” Mato glanced up at him. He shook his head. Ko-Yode nodded. “I’ll have something set up near my quarters then. I imagine you’re afraid? Some of the people here have suffered because of the Hutts. You’re my guest until we decide there’s no danger. Then we can get you settled. That alright with you?” Mato was bewildered. No one had offered him anything like this before. He had just been told he could stay, right off the bat, with no question, no form, no proving. It didn’t feel right. How could he accept that? What about what he had done? Who he had been? “Mato?” the Steward was smiling. Mato realized he hadn’t responded. “Oh, yes—yes.” “That’s settled, then. Here, come over by the water. These fish come in every color you could imagine over here. They’re crazy.” Mato stumbled over to the pier, standing stiff beside the tall, black-robed man. He watched the water, and the shapes moving under it. After a few minutes of quiet fish-watching, Ko-Yode spoke again. “Why did you want to leave Nal Hutta, Mato?” Mato’s heart dropped. This was a test, he knew it was. He felt his knees shake. He had faced horrors and dangers no one should have to. Stared down foes taken by bloodlust, been taken by it himself. He had been afraid many times. None of those times had been the same as this. This could not be survived with strength or will. All he knew to do was tell the truth. “I—I, well—I did not like the Hutts,” he mumbled. “They treated me like trash. Living as their servant was hell. They stink, and my bed was always filthy, and I had to obey every order, or I’d be killed like the others, and…I was…afraid. I was afraid all the time. I had gotten used to it. Yigs was the first person I met who wasn’t afraid. I guess I wanted the life that—that she had.” He cursed himself. He sounded like a child. The two men stood side-by-side, looking into the watery world below. Ko-Yode nodded, and asked another question. “Do you still think about the things you did?” The memories and the images flooded his mind. The faces of those he was about to kill, the desperation, the pleading. They wanted to live. He wanted to live too. He remembered the horror in their faces when they saw him smile, saw he would not show mercy. He felt powerful in that moment. For once, he felt powerful. All he felt now was fear. A dam broke inside him. He felt his wrinkled face contort. “Stop!” he shouted, turning on the Steward. Ko-Yode was calm. “Stop?” Mato felt tears leak from his eyes and roll down his weathered face. The fear and the anger inside him snapped against the meek silence he had maintained since he left. The conflict between the person he had been and who he had been pretending to be. He started to rant, raising his voice. “Days ago, I was a killer. An evil person. I am not some charity case, you idiot! Some poor, sad hound looking for a home! I am not allowed in! I have murdered people, do you understand?” He heard venom in his voice. Bitterness that drained and cracked. He frothed with rage, towards himself, towards this one-eyed man, towards Nal Hutta and towards Wayland. “The kinds of people that live here! Parents! Peaceful people! The Hutts made me this, but make no mistake, I did not stop them! I chose to kill! I chose to enjoy it! I chose to survive!” He thrust a finger in the Steward’s face. The man did not blink. Mato’s voice was hoarse. He snarled his words through weeping. “I do not BELONG here! You should NOT accept me!” he snarled. “The person I was, the things I have done have exiled me. EXILE ME! Send me away! Do not give me—do not give me a bed, you FOOL! Put me in jail! Kill me! THAT would be just, not your—your—insanity!” Like an animal, he slobbered and shook. “KILL ME!” With his last scream Mato fell to the floor, a shivering, sobbing, angry heap. Ko-Yode didn’t speak. He just waved away the guard, and sat down beside the Weequay on the pier, looking quietly between the water and his fetal form. It took time, but slowly Mato went from furious to frustrated, weeping to ashamed. He held his knees, wiping his face constantly. It was twenty minutes before he spoke. His voice was a croak. “What have I done?” “Nothing that I’ll hold against you, friend,” answered Ko-Yode quietly. He smiled at the Weequay. “You’re still that person, you know. We don’t ever lose our past.” Mato looked at him like a child, through bleary eyes. “Can I ever be free? Can I ever make it right?” Ko-Yode considered it. “That’s a difficult question, isn’t it? I think, for your sake and others’, you’ll have to reckon with what you’ve done. But how you do it is something you find for yourself. You’ve been given questions to which you can’t be given answers. You’ll have to live them out—maybe a little at a time.” “How long will that take?” “I don’t know,” Ko-Yode admitted. “As long as you live, maybe.” “That might be a long time.” “I hope so.” The Steward turned to him, and put a firm hand on his shoulder. “You’re still the person you were, but you’ve made new choices. That’s all we can do. But you know what, Mato? That guy? You? Even at his worst? I would’ve given that guy a place here too.” Mato wasn’t used to hugging people—he had probably never done it in his life, except in a fight—but he embraced Ko-Yode without thinking. It was awkward, but earnest. Ko-Yode took it in stride. “I will work hard,” the Weequay said. “I will earn my place.” Ko-Yode smiled seriously. “You don’t have to earn anything, but I’m sure you will. You belong here now, understand? Tomorrow I’ll take you around, show you how we do things. But for now, you best get some rest, don’t you think?” Mato agreed. He was exhausted. He was accepted. And one day, he thought, he would really be free. He didn’t quite understand yet that in the most important way, he already was.
  5. *Your entry has earned 3 XP* Mato I: A Death Sentence Mato II: Fleeing the Stench Next Post: Mato IV: Along Old Lanes Chapter III Mato saw faces and hands, blood and teeth, victims and threats, anguish and rage. With a shout, he lurched up on his bunk, out of his violent dreams. He sat still, breathing deep, staring at the gray of the wall in front of him. The air was stale, recycled. Not like Nal Hutta. That was a relief. The faces swam before his eyes, fading slowly. He would never kill again, he thought to himself. Killing was the Hutt-way. The Hutt-way was the nightmare behind him, but there was a life ahead. He remembered what had happened, took in where he was. He was on the girl-spy’s (Yigs, that was her name) ship, they had escaped from Nal Hutta. She had rescued him. Or had he rescued her? Maybe both were true. Wiping his face, he looked around and found water. The Weequay gulped down a canteen, and then after a thought occurred, filled an extra one for Yigs. Had she been flying all night? She had to be thirsty. He emerged into the cockpit, and nearly stumbled in shock. The blue tunnel of Hyperspace stretched before him, a cosmic swirl of energy, speed, and power. He had never seen such a thing. The girl smiled when she saw him enter, laughed at his open jaw. “Hey there! You’ve been out for hours! Quite a sight, isn’t it? Is this your first time in Hyperspace?” “Yes. What a horrifying sight.” “Hah! Don’t worry, it’s safe. The odds of anything happening to us in hyperspace are next to nothing.” Mato frowned. “’Next to nothing’. Is that supposed to be comforting?” “Sure, that was the idea.” Bewildered, he handed her the full canteen. She glanced back at him, surprised by the gesture, and took a grateful drink while he fell into the co-pilot’s seat. “I think the water has gone old,” he said regretfully. “It isn’t blue.” Yigs smiled. “Only water in rivers and streams is blue.” Mato blinked. “Is this true? I thought all water was blue, except on Hutta.” “Not true, my friend. You should see Mimban. And even where it is blue, that’s only on clear days.” Mato scratched his chin, growling to himself. “This is a great mystery.” Yigs checked a few monitors while wiping her mouth. “You’ll see. We’re nearly there, you’re just in time.” Hyperspace began to recede in a blinding display of shattered white, and a planet—colored a wash of healthy blue-green—rushed to meet them. In moments, it had gone from a tiny pearl to a massive ball that dominated the view screen. Mato nearly fell out of his chair. “Wayland!” Yigs declared, swelling with pride. “Home. This place used to be a breadbasket for the Empire. When it collapsed, the people rose up to take control of their homes and farms. That was a little before my time. Now they’re apart of the Confederacy of Free Systems, a group of other colonies in the Outer Rim.” Mato watched with great interest, but his attention was grabbed by something else. A dark, still object hovering over the planet, a large spacecraft. “And what is that, there?” he asked, pointing. Yigs’ expression turned sour. “The Techno Union,” she said, muttering, “They’d ruin dozens of acres of soil if they ever landed that monstrosity.” Seeing that Mato was curious for more, she explained. “The Techno Union were a big deal in the original Confederacy. They disappeared when the Empire rose, but now they’re back, and they want a hand in things. They’ve been trying to win the trust of the colonists, trying to sell them ‘new and improved’ farming methods and tech. Personally, I think it’s just a different kind of slavery waiting to happen. Koyode, our leader, thinks so too. We’re trying to get them to leave, but some of the colonists like what they have to say.” Mato examined the craft, scratching his chin. “I know this kind of starship. I’ve seen it on Nal Hutta. This Techno Union has dealings with the Hutts.” The woman looked at him with wide-eyed triumph. “I knew it! But . . . The only problem is that they can deny it as long as they want. We would need proof. That’s why I’ll be going back to Nal Hutta.” Mato spun to stare at her. “Return? Don’t be stupid. You'll die if you return there.” “Not with your help, I won’t,” she grinned. A pained expression crossed Mato’s face. He shook his head slowly. “No . . . no. I'm sorry, but . . . Yigs, I will never go back to that place.” Yigs hadn’t expected that. She thought she’d won another fighter for the cause. “What?” she said, blankly. “I’m sorry. I cannot. The Hutts . . . my life before . . . “ he hung his head in shame, struggling to find the right words. “You must understand—“ Yigs watched him, her expression impossible to read. Finally, she nodded in a stiff sort of way. “I . . . get it. It’s okay. I’ll just keep working on my own.” Her brow twitched, and she fixed her attention on preparing the ship for entry. “Alright, we’re coming in now, buckle up!” Mato felt uneasy. He hadn’t realized she expected him to help. Would she not have helped him escape Nal Hutta had she known? He wanted nothing to do with his old life, but was he wrong not to help her in her cause? He had left to find a new life, not to attack his old one. He just wanted to forget about the whole thing. Eager to break the awkward silence that had settled, he asked, “Do you like Wayland?” She nodded profusely. “Have you heard me talk at all? It’s the best planet in the galaxy.” He looked out on the continents and oceans before them, brimming with the light of their sun. He felt that feeling rising in him once again: hope. “You . . . seem a happy place," he said to the planet. "I should like to live in a happy place.”
  6. goatman461

    [M5 - Agamar - CFS] Clone Reek Scout

    *Your entry has earned 7 XP*
  7. *Your entry has earned 22 XP and has won the MandalMotors Corporation* While many are content to get on with their lives after the Empire, a new form of rebellion is brewing across the galaxy. Those not satisfied with the New Republics progress in subduing the remaining Imperial warlords have taken it upon themselves to strike back. Now, outlaws to both the New Republic and bitter enemies to the regrouping Imperials, these truest of freedom fighters have to rely on black market funding and resupply. The Confederacy of Free Systems has been a welcome friend to those searching for financing, safe harbor, and a shared vision of liberty. The Red Moon Squadron is one such group being secretly financed by various groups throughout the CFS. New Republic ambassadors blast the group as wanton terrorists, impeding negotiations with remaining Imperial holdouts. Those on Giju, who lived through slavery under the Empire, happily resupply the various starfighters of Red Moon Squadron.
  8. *Your entry has earned 6 XP (x2 for limited challenge)* The First Order moves in on Teyr, a popular tourist destination. The Resistance... resistance... was limited and futile.
  9. *Your entry has earned 20 XP* When the Empire took Columex, not all of the Separatist oligarchs escaped. Two slaves, a breeding pair from the outskirts of the Obtrexta sector, stood between their master and the reckoning that he deserved.
  10. *Your entry has earned 18XP* Jedi intrusions on Sith territory will not be tolerated... Seed part is the dark gray bars used to make the tread.
  11. *Your entry has earned 15XP* Year 8 ABY. Personal, subterranean quarters of elected Captain Mor Tuuk, former first mate to the Founder. ...125 days after the scuttling of Separatist ships on Felucia, year 19 BBY. There had always been division between the naval and special forces detachments. As the Founder led rock-works to burrow into the valley walls, the Black Brigade readied armaments and spent most of their time with drills and guard duty. When no onslaught of clones came over the hills, they refused to give up their bellicose duties to start crops or raise homes. As soon a naval crews had cleared a path out of the valley, the marine contingent set out to find laborers and sources of food. What they found were Felucians. The Black Brigade pillaged the Felucian farmers and brought back their young as slaves carrying whatever supplies looked most valuable. The Founder would have none of this. He stood firm and held the commandant in disgrace. Some of the warriors moved to fight, but the commandant gave no order. Finally, the Founder unshackled the Felucians as the warriors watched in horror and shame. That pass through the rocks became infamous for the division it caused between the Nemoidian warrior elites and the founders of the scuttled town. The rock beneath that very spot was eventually reserved as the official quarters of the town Captain, so he could always stand at the pass defending honor agains tyranny. Every day, in what is now his own quarters, Mor Tuuk is reminded of his Captain's stance long ago... ...and the growth of their town that refused to rule through violence, but instead through service to their fellow man.