The Force Always Says Yes [Star Wars]

[Hyenanon]

Yes

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Boy I walked right the fuck into that one didn't I

 

[jason1stlegion]

Star Wars isn't one of my fandoms, but I can safely say this is one of my favorite stories on QQ, period. It's rare to come across a good enough grasp of unusual mindsets to learn something from the experience!

I'm feeling a lot of Daoist influence in your conception of the Force, as well; is that coincidence or intentional?

 

[Hyenanon]

Star Wars isn't one of my fandoms, but I can safely say this is one of my favorite stories on QQ, period. It's rare to come across a good enough grasp of unusual mindsets to learn something from the experience!

I'm feeling a lot of Daoist influence in your conception of the Force, as well; is that coincidence or intentional?

Click to shrink...

It's super gratifying to hear that, thank you!

Most certainly intentional. I think George Lucas got a lot of his ideas in regards to the Force from new-age movements, along with more traditional readings of the eastern religions like Buddhism and Daoism that inspired them. I was raised in close proximity to a lot of eastern religions myself, since I grew up with Jain friends and bizarrely enough had the luck to randomly end up living in the same neighborhood as a Buddhist temple multiple times in my life. In my reading of the movies, there's a lot of parallels between the Force and the 'Way', along with parallels between sangha and the Jedi Order and so on. With some very key differences, of course. But that key idea of going with the flow is strongly echoed between them.

 

[Natelord28]

Just binged, I can definitely say that this is very well made

Nerim is such a goober!

 

[Hyenanon]

Just binged, I can definitely say that this is very well made

Nerim is such a goober!

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Thank you so much! I always really like it when people binge my works lol

Nerim is a lovable kind of dopey. I've really enjoyed writing how he, his Momster, and his Grand Momster interact. The duo dynamic is great to work with but the trio dynamic really helps brings out their best banter

 

[shargle]

Spoiler: image

Fae is great and I love the force omniglot power

 

[Hyenanon]

Chapter 40: Defiance I Sense In You​

Fae had rather swiftly taken charge, leading Nerim instead of the other way around. As they walked, she made a quick call to the local security officials Vseyav had acquainted them with, requesting information on the whereabouts of Czerka employees, while Nerim took the opportunity to observe the locals as they passed.

The population was overwhelmingly Saarkanian, with only a handful of other species here and there. The early morning was in the midst of transition from neon glow to an overcast silvery sheen, the last few sad remaining lights sticking out like sore thumbs. The streets were mostly dominated by business men and women on their way to work, with a not inconsiderable amount of lower class workers flitting between the crowds. Retirees and the occasional unemployed haunted the edges, leaning on balconies and squatting in the entrances to alleyways, smoking and watching the aliens go by.

A gaggle of children loudly laughed and argued among themselves as they passed by dressed in uniform, with the boys wearing charcoal gray button-up coats and trousers with boots that gave it all a remarkable and somewhat silly military flair, and the girls wearing black dresses with pinstriped aprons and red neckerchiefs. It was enough to make Nerim wonder how they could endure it all. Sure, the Jedi had uniforms for younglings, but they were all unisex and rather simple. Boring, even. He had more than once borrowed uniforms from younglings of different age, sex, and near-Human species.

It suddenly occurred to him that, as a Padawan, he was only subject to his Master's rules, and he doubted very much that Arwain would stop him from wearing whatever he wanted. She herself wore slightly nontraditional white robes half the time—except for when she forgot to do laundry and had to switch to normal robes, which was about the other half of the time.

He noticed they had stopped walking, and Fae was staring at him expectantly. He held her gaze for a moment and then looked aside. "Um, I'm going to be honest. I wasn't listening."

Fae slowly smiled. "At least you're honest."

"It's one of the only things I can be," Nerim shrugged.

"Hm. Well, all I had said was to be alert. I imagine we will catch our suspect either within minutes of entering the hotel, or not at all," she said, leading him into a different building. "Come, we'll be taking a circuitous path."

Nerim retracted his umbrella and tilted his head up at the truly gigantic distance between the roof and himself, a hollow shaft running all the way to a glass dome at the top, which poked up into blue sky above the clouds. "Grand Master, why does Arwain wear white?"

"Hm?" Fae raised an eyebrow as they entered an elevator, and began rocketing up at a pace that Nerim noted was significantly faster than the High Council Chamber elevator. "Well, I've never actually asked her. You aren't the first person to ask me instead of her, though."

He tilted his head. "You've never been curious? She's breaking the dress code, after all."

"The dress code has always been more of a dress suggestion," Fae chuckled. "I hope you don't think me that kind of petty tyrant."

"But she's your former Padawan! Did she start when she was under your tutelage?"

She thought for a moment. "Oh, not at all. She wore many different things as a Padawan, but never white robes. She only started that about three or four years before we conferred on her the rank of Master."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I think she started wearing it around the time she became a Master," Fae said wistfully as the elevator came to a stop about halfway up the building. They walked forwards until they came to a gondola station. To his surprise, they were not repulsorlift craft, but rather suspended on large durasteel cables that stretched from this building into the impenetrable fog. He couldn't see the destination, but at his height, he could see several other cables criss-crossing from one indistinct wall of fog to the next.

The station was surprisingly nearly empty, and none of the Saarkanians seemed that enthused to board with the aliens, and so the two Jedi entered the gondola and heard the metal groan and the strange creaking noise of cables at tension as it began to slowly move. The fog around them encased the vehicle until the building they had just left started to become hazy. Then there was nothing but the sound of creaking, wind, and small splatters of raindrops.

Nerim turned to Fae, her form haloed by the white light entering through the window behind her. "Why did you take Arwain as a Padawan?"

"That is another question that many people other than Arwain have asked me," she chuckled. "Even one that I have asked myself from time to time."

"She never asked?" Nerim leaned against the cool metal behind him. He asked Arwain that question frequently.

"No. I don't think she cared, for a long time," Fae said, closing her eyes and reminiscing. "By the time she cared, she understood. Better than I, maybe. I think I took her on because I was angry."

Nerim's jaw dropped. "You? You were angry?"

She tilted her head back and laughed. He could scarcely imagine what she would look like angry. "Yes, I believe I was. I didn't know it at the time. The Council of Reconciliation had just voted to exile her from the Order. For me, it was like...watching a long string of your own mistakes lead to another's suffering. And having them be blamed for it. It caused what you might call a...crisis of faith."

Nerim was struck speechless, as the gondola slowly swayed in the wind. "Arwain was...exiled?"

"Hm," Fae hummed with amusement, "I'm surprised she hasn't told you the story."

He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "She's, uh, rather evasive..."

"Ah, yes, that would explain it. Well, suffice to say, she had a troubled youth," Fae said softly. "I would rather let her divulge her story on her own terms, but I don't wish to leave you subject to rumors and doubt. When Arwain was your age, she killed her Master, along with a number of Mandalorians."

He balked. "Her own Master? I had suspected the Mandalorians, but..."

Fae nodded slowly. "You see, her Master, the Knight Kos-Ran Gohda, was a...tempestuous man. A Guardian, drawn too quickly to battle. This was known, but the Council was ignorant of the full extent of it. During a heated conflict with Mandalorians, who had killed a number of civilians that he and Arwain were in charge of protecting, he was overcome with rage and fell to the Dark Side. He took actions which lead to the death of many Mandalorians, including their children, by overloading the reactor core in their base."

Nerim's face paled and he looked down at the floor. "By the Force..."

She placed a hand on the cold window. "When Arwain figured out what he had done, she followed her conscience, and attempted to disarm him. He died in the struggle. Then, the remaining Mandalorians came upon her, and attempted to kill her."

Nerim suddenly raised his head. "Wait, after she had taken their side?"

Fae shook her head. "They didn't care. They were mothers and fathers who had just lost their children to the Jedi, and they were ruled by their pain and hatred. I can only imagine what she must have felt, at that time. Betrayed by her Master, betrayed by the people she had acted in defense of. In that moment, she also called upon the Dark Side, and she killed the remaining Kreyn Mandalorians. After that, she returned before the Council of Reconciliation for judgment. The judgment was exile. Unanimous."

"That's...horrible." Nerim shuddered. "But...Why did you overturn her exile? How, even?"

Fae stared out the window, taking a deep breath. "Because in her, I sensed fear, and hatred, and fury. She had a greater capacity for fury than any Padawan I had known in that century. She would have made a good Sith."

Nerim's blood ran cold.

"And yet," Fae closed her weathered eyes, "She stood before the Council. She didn't have to. She knew what the verdict would be, she could have simply run away, or resigned, or embraced the Dark. But she gave us a chance. And they used it to castigate her and throw her away. Because they were afraid. Because they were angry. She was just as angry and afraid, but she gave us a chance, and every Master failed to do the same. A third betrayal of her trust. I have never been more ashamed of my Order."

She opened her eyes, and turned to him. "Nerim, sometimes people fall because they are malicious to the core, or because they are weak and easily led astray. But sometimes—often times—people can be incredibly resilient, and the Galaxy just fails to provide them with a single good reason not to fall. Sometimes, all it takes is a single good thing to happen in a person's life to change the trajectory of things entirely. I realized at that moment, that if I did nothing, she would fall to the Dark. But she was strong, and she came back to us because she was looking for that one good thing."

Nerim ran a hand through his hair. "So you became that one good thing."

She smiled. "Correct. I said, to hell with tradition, I am taking her as my Padawan."

"Did the Councils object?" He asked.

"Oh, yes," she said, "I recall Yoda made quite the resounding argument that sometimes bad things happen to good people, and damage them so thoroughly they cannot hold power anymore, and that it is wise to understand that and resign them to a life of healing and rest. 'Miss them, do not', he said, as if she were already dead. Pfeh."

"What did you say?"

"I said that I wouldn't use my power as the Master of the Order to overrule them, of course. That would be improper. Instead, I would take his advice. If the Order were really going to wound me in such a way, I would have to resign too," she nodded.

For the second time, Nerim's jaw dropped. "You threatened to...?!"

"To become the Lost 19th, yes," she grinned widely at him. The Lost were a historical collection of Jedi, the only ones known to the history of the modern Order to have achieved the rank of Jedi Master and voluntarily resigned from the Order. Some even became Sith Lords. The 18 figures were mourned with statues in the Temple Archives, as symbols of the greatest failures of the Order. Everyone dreaded the thought of adding another.

But the Grand Master herself? That would be an event of political proportions. The Senate itself would burst down the Temple doors and demand answers.

The endless fog began to break around the hotel as they slowly approached it. Nerim shook his head in disbelief. "What'd Arwain say when you told her she would be your Padawan?"

Fae stroked her whiskers, approaching the door in anticipation of disembarking. "I believe the exact word she used was No."

________________________________________________________________

Spoiler: A/N

So remember when I said if I messed up, I would leave you guys on a cliffhanger? Turns out, I had less time to write and edit than I thought...

For the next two weeks I'm going to be super busy IRL. I might have the time to get the next chapter to a postable state, but that's a big maybe. Oopsies! Well, I hope the big Arwain Reveal is good enough to carry that delay.

 

[TFTwink]

"What'd Arwain say when you told her she would be your Padawan?"

Fae stroked her whiskers, approaching the door in anticipation of disembarking. "I believe the exact word she used was No."

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Dang, he really is sonmaxxing without knowing it

 

[BC1]

Awesome chapter and great reveal. You subverted my expectations, I really expected you to use the old someone cuts the cable car cable mid-ride and the grandmaster would have to heroically sacrifice her life to save the young Padawan trope.

 

[Psyentific]

Chiming in from lurking to say that I absolutely adore your characterization. These master-student dynamics are fire. All of these jedi have their own 'spin' on being a Jedi and they're all really good.

 

[Hyenanon]

Chiming in from lurking to say that I absolutely adore your characterization. These master-student dynamics are fire. All of these jedi have their own 'spin' on being a Jedi and they're all really good.

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Thank you!!

Awesome chapter and great reveal. You subverted my expectations, I really expected you to use the old someone cuts the cable car cable mid-ride and the grandmaster would have to heroically sacrifice her life to save the young Padawan trope.

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I could never kill off Fae that quickly!

Dang, he really is sonmaxxing without knowing it

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One can only speculate on how much Arwain is in denial about how much she's mommaxxing

 

[NotIntoFeet]

Man, I'm loving the steps this story takes.

 

[Hyenanon]

Spoiler: A/N

Well, I'm back from the convention! Have been for a few days actually. I caught a flu, so I've been quite sick, and very busy besides, so updates will almost certainly be slower than daily for the rest of this arc, but here goes this one.

Chapter 41: When The Jedi Become Aware​

The doors rattled open, and Fae stepped onto the platform. "Eyes up, Young Nerim. I feel she is still around."

He took a deep breath of the cold, noticeably thinner atmosphere of the gondola station, and followed her. "Shouldn't we call Arwain?"

"Arwain is aware," Fae stated simply, "As is, I think, our prey."

Nerim swallowed and held his hands together in front of him, where he could easily reach for his lightsaber. They entered the skyscraper proper and Nerim found it to be quite spacious, a strange perfectly circular building with an open center, where hotel rooms made up the bulk of the structure, letting in light and fresh air on both the inner and outer sides. An endless round balcony circled each level, allowing entry to the rooms, while some levels were dedicated to shops and utilities, such as the one they were on.

Nerim peered over the railings to the center, which dropped a good 40 stories to a courtyard at the bottom, currently empty as rain still filtered in from the open top. The building was large enough for some noticeable opacity in the fog from one point on the circle to its opposite. Nerim held out his hand and felt the rain for a moment, taking a deep breath of the air as it rushed past.

A few dozen feet in front of them, an elevator dinged. A Twi'lek woman with orange skin exited, wearing a traditional caustic yellow and deep, dark green double breasted Czerka coat and black pants. She began walking in their direction, towards the gondola station, before suddenly noticing the two Jedi.

Her eyes scanned Nerim first with confusion, and then as she looked to the Grand Master, they widened just slightly. Her body locked into a rigid order, continuing to walk with purpose, as if she were too busy to notice them or be stopped. It was a convincing charade, and would've most certainly worked, if they weren't already looking for her.

Fae and Nerim kept their eyes on her as they mutually approached one another. It didn't take long for the Twi'lek to re-evaluate the situation, scanning them for their intentions. He felt a pillar of fear emanating from her, as if a beacon was beginning to light in his mind's eye. She began to slow, but before she could change her course of action, Fae spoke up.

"It's okay, dear, I get this reaction all the time," the Grand Master chuckled reassuringly, continuing to walk steadily with her hands behind her back.

The Twi'lek stopped in place, blinking. He felt a sudden relief in her mind. She had just been mistaken for a tourist who was starstruck. The fear found an outlet. She managed a very tight, polite smile, welling up all the confidence she could manage. He felt her summon resolve from some great cistern of unimpeachable ego within her, and she stood tall, fully in control of the situation. The fear transformed into drive. "It's—"

"Most Dark Jedi panic at the sight of me," Fae continued unphased.

Nerim felt a sensation like glass shattering, as if a submarine dove too deep and crumpled in on itself. He felt Fae's presence reach out to that alchemical contraption in her soul that turned fear into power, and violently ratchet it back, dissolving it back into its base components. So that's where Arwain learned her 'disarming directness' technique, he thought.

The Twi'lek's body twitched, and Fae spoke again. "Scared? Don't be. The Padawan doesn't bite. He's actually quite fond of Dark Apprentices."

"Grand Master..." Nerim pouted.

"Some would say too fond."

The Twi'lek looked between them, her fear starting to transform into confusion, as the direct threats melted into banter. She took a step back, then another, retreating at the rate Fae was approaching and glancing over the railing as if considering if she could manage to jump away.

"Listen to me," Fae said, suddenly more serious. The Twi'lek looked in her direction. "I did not come for you, Ayyana." He saw the Twi'lek's pupils shrink at the mention of her name. "I have more pressing matters to attend to, but you are my only lead to them right now. If you told me where to go from here, you would suddenly no longer be the most important thing on my list. Understand?"

Nerim saw a bead of sweat drip down Ayyana's brow. He felt the confusion turn into fatigue, then temptation, and finally a sort of...hope. She began to open her mouth, but suddenly, the entire transformation faltered.

Fear became the overriding emotion he sensed from her once more. Her head whipped around, scanning the environment, as if anticipating some sort of ambush. Her jaw clenched tightly and she swallowed, stepping backwards more swiftly. "S-stay back. Don't get any closer. I can't help you—and I wouldn't even if I could!"

Fae quietly sighed through her nose, closing her eyes. "I see. Well, in that case..." She turned slightly to Nerim and spoke quickly. "Behind you."

Nerim drew his lightsaber and whipped around at the same time that Fae rushed forward. Not a second later, another figure swung into the walkway from the floor above him, landing a few inches in front of him. It was a young Togruta woman in a black bodysuit with a short jacket, knife drawn. He barely had time to identify she was holding a weapon by the time she was charging him.

He activated his blade, shrouding the space in yellowish-green light and began sprinting at her just as fast. He sensed a sudden shock in her as they met sooner than expected, his blade swinging straight for her wrist. She quickly raised her knife and caught it, pushing it away with both hands. He had expected it to be cortosis-weaved or have some other sort of lightsaber resistance; no one would be stupid enough to charge a Jedi in melee without it.

Taking a page from his old friend's book, he leaped and thrust both of his heels into her sternum, kicking her backwards and sending her rolling across the walkway coughing and sputtering while he fell to the floor, drew his blaster, and fired from the supine position into her scrambling body. The stun ring made contact, and she began to seize, and then go limp.

He rolled backwards onto his feet, whipped back around, and pointed his blaster back towards the Twi'lek's direction. He saw she had drawn a knife of her own, but then turned and sprinted away at a superhuman speed. Fae was in pursuit at a decidedly human speed, and turned her head to Nerim. "Arrest her, and be careful! I sense a greater danger..."

Nerim attempted to line up a shot with his blaster on the Twi'lek, but couldn't get a clear line of fire before Ayyana had rushed into a stairwell, along with Fae. He pursed his lips and deactivated his lightsaber, holstering his pistol as well, and walking up to the Togruta.

She grunted and clenched her teeth on the floor, trying to retain consciousness. He quickly took her knife, then rolled her over and cuffed her hands, and then her ankles for good measure, before turning her back over. "Mind telling me who you are and why you've attacked me?"

"Jedi s-scum!" The Togruta spat out, attempting to lurch forward and bite him. It was strange. She displayed nothing but hostile behavior, and yet, he sensed no rage or anger directed towards him. Only fear.

"Just relax. It's over now, so take a breather while you can," he shrugged.

"I'll kill you!" She shouted at him in a somewhat unsure tone.

He stared back down at her. She was pathetically attempting to wriggle away from him back towards a different elevator. "You realize worming away from me is not conducive to that threat, right?"

"Damn you!" Her voice cracked, as she pushed her face into the floor while visibly fighting back tears. "I don't want to die here!"

"Bizarre..." He muttered, frowning. "You know very well that I am not going to kill you now. Which means..." He turned and looked around himself, in a way that he belatedly realized was similar to how Ayyana had done earlier. "Are we being observed?"

She stopped worming away, hyperventilating and struggling against her bonds instead. "P-please," she pleaded in a small voice, "Don't."

"Are you being forced to do this?" Nerim dropped to one knee. "How can I help you?"

She glanced at him and then looked down again, as if afraid of making eye contact. She made some sort of mental calculation, and spoke slowly. "I...I have nothing to do with what you're looking for."

He placed a hand to his chin and thought about her answer. "How do you know what I'm looking for?"

"W—" She bit her tongue and screwed her eyes shut for a half second. "I was looking for it, too."

Slowly, Nerim's eyes widened. "You're not a part of the group that caused the Wound, are you? How many Dark Orders are there on this planet...?"

"I never said anything about that!" She quickly replied, kicking herself onto her side, facing him. "Just—look, you want the Anatra Survey. That's all I can say. Let me go."

He thought about it, and raised his communicator. "Masters, the Dark Sider I have here says that what we're looking for is at the 'Anatra Survey'. I think she's implying there are multiple organizations of Dark Siders at play here."

"Nice!" Arwain's voice rang out.

"I didn't say that!" She shouted at him. The elevator she had been trying to crawl towards dinged and opened, several Saarkanian officers disgorging from it. Her pupils shrank to pinpricks.

Fae's voice returned over the communicator, so smooth and relaxed that he had trouble believing she was conducting a high speed chase while speaking. "Disturbing. Thank you for the information. Hand her over and regroup with me."

"No, no, no..." The Togruta whined, now trying to writhe away from the approaching security. "No, let me go!"

One of the Saarkanians slid to a stop, adopting a stance of attention and saluting at Nerim. "Knight! What's the situation?"

He frowned and glanced back down at the Togruta. Things still didn't add up. He felt intense, mortal fear radiating from the young woman, and he still somehow felt like he was being watched. That cold, sludgy feeling was crawling through his guts, and he sighed through his nose. He had such a bad feeling about this—everything about this.

He closed his eyes and reached out. This woman's life was in his hands. That he knew, which was odd, because nothing about this appeared to be a life-threatening situation to him. But somewhere deep inside, he knew. He weighed up the options, feeling the officers' anticipation and the woman's terror.

"Sorry, officers," he said, reaching over and removing the Togruta's handcuffs. "We were in the middle of apprehending a suspect, and she leaped to the suspect's defense. I think she misidentified us as criminals, understandably, given the lack of uniform," he lied. "She did nothing wrong."

The Togruta blinked silently in shock, her mouth slightly moving as if trying to say something, but no sound came out. He freed her hands, and then her legs. The Saarkanian tilted his head. "Do you want us to let her go?"

"Yes, I think so" Nerim nodded. The woman felt her wrists with her shaky hands, proving to herself she was no longer bound. He could feel that her throat was tight and she was fighting back tears. "This is the best I can do for you right now. Don't get in any more trouble, okay?"

The moment the reality sank in, the woman leapt to her feet and sprinted down the hallway, disappearing into a stairwell without looking back. Nerim sighed, and mentally asked the Force if he made the right decision or not. The Force, like always, did not reply to its given name.

"Grand Master," he spoke into his communicator, "What floor are you on?"

"Oh, just go on down to the bottom, she has no idea where she's leading me," Fae replied.

Nerim nodded to the officers, and then ran into the elevator and hit the lobby button. After a short wait, he exited into the courtyard, to find himself parallel to the sprinting Ayyana, Fae close behind running at what appeared to be a leisurely pace for her. Arwain leaped down from a floor above and landed opposite from him, joining the pursuit. He immediately began running alongside the Twi'lek, which caused her to have to run straight forward into a restaurant.

They dodged between startled patrons and wide-eyed servers as she sent tables clattering behind her to block their progress. Nerim stumbled and vaulted over the obstacles, while Fae caught up and shortly thereafter surpassed him by leaping from point to point on her toes, balancing on impossibly precarious tipped-over chairs and tables.

They burst into the kitchen, where Ayyana had apparently found herself cornered by two angry chefs attempting to accost her with ladles, and no exit to be found. "Damnit!" She cursed.

"Nowhere to run this time!" Arwain said from behind him, gesturing for the Saarkanians to move out of the way and activating her lightsaber.

The Twi'lek's eyes scanned the kitchen looking for any possible escape, as the chefs stood back in awe of the lightsaber, filtering themselves out of the room. She glanced back to them, and sneered. "So the only way out is through."

She reached out an arm and a pot of boiling oil rattled on the stove, and then tipped over, its contents speeding directly at Nerim. Before he could even react, Fae became a blur.

The Grand Master dashed forward with an audible crack of the air, reaching for her belt and drawing, and a crimson flash lit up the room with an electric hum. Nerim's heart stopped, he felt every muscle in his Master's body tense, and he knew the Twi'lek had closed her eyes and curled halfway into the fetal position, back to the wall.

The oil splashed harmlessly against her umbrella, and Fae lowered it with a smile. "Hm. It is rather durable after all."

The three other Force Sensitives each let out a rattling gasp of air, adrenaline belatedly hitting their systems. For a second, Nerim had thought...

Fae began retracting the umbrella, shaking off the last bits of oil onto the floor. "Now, about your arrest."

The Twi'lek's eyes widened, and she reached her hands up. "Quickly, you have to—"

Then, there was a sickening sound. It was the fwumph of a small explosion almost like a firecracker, but with more sizzling, combined with the squelch of something muffled by wet meat. Blood and molten metal sprayed out from behind her against the steel wall of the kitchen, and she slumped over onto the floor, instantly dead. Where the back of her head was, now was a orange-hot mess, trailing down her spine.

The sound alone made Nerim's skin crawl, but the sight outright nauseated him, and there was something more, something intangible about the presence of death that hit him all at once.

The three Jedi were silent for a moment in shock, until Fae spoke. "Slaver bomb...?"

"Slaver bomb," Arwain confirmed.

"I'll never forget that noise as long as I live..." Nerim said queasily.

"So that's why she was so uncooperative..." Fae said, seemingly unmoved by the sight. "The one you arrested didn't explode?" She turned to him.

"I let her go," he replied flatly, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

"Why?" Fae asked.

Nerim gestured wildly in the general direction of the corpse in the room.

 

[Simonbob]

His grasp of the Force is great.

His perception of his grasp of the Force? Not so great.



Great to see you back, Hyeanon! I hope you haven't become too... conventional.

That would be terrible.

 

[Hyenanon]

His grasp of the Force is great.

His perception of his grasp of the Force? Not so great.

Click to shrink...

If I had to name this fic again, I would probably stick with The Force Always Says Yes, even though I have since been informed that there is another fic by that name which is a slashfic with Kylo and Rey. Ew.

But if I had to rename it, it would definitely be "The Force Doesn't Answer To Its Given Name"

Great to see you back, Hyeanon! I hope you haven't become too... conventional.

That would be terrible.

Click to shrink...

Conventional? Definitely. It's hip to be square.

Thanks for the warm welcome! It's good to be back and have my creative juices flowing again.

 

[Goudeauboywade]

Nerim gestured wildly in the general direction of the corpse in the room.

Click to shrink...

Our boy truly has a way with words

 

[po-tay-toes]

currently on chapter 25, this story is officially a good time.

i hadnt realized how rare it is to see characters actually just living and having a good time without it being a 'im gonna build you up, tear you down, and thats story development' sorta thing.

 

[shukkets]

Nice! Thanks for the chapter.

 

[Hyenanon]

currently on chapter 25, this story is officially a good time.

i hadnt realized how rare it is to see characters actually just living and having a good time without it being a 'im gonna build you up, tear you down, and thats story development' sorta thing.

Click to shrink...

I'm glad to hear it, I hope you enjoy the rest too! I like giving my characters time to chill out and grow. I never liked the trend of treating characters like punching bags and relying on diabolos ex machina, which is what I think a lot of writers, both of fanfiction and in the industry, are drawn to nowadays.

Our boy truly has a way with words

Click to shrink...

When I wrote that sentence I thought to myself "From day 1, this exact sentence was destined to happen at some point or another. There's no timeline in which Nerim doesn't gesture wildly towards a corpse."

Nice! Thanks for the chapter.

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Thank you for reading and leaving a comment!

 

[Necrovore]

If I had to name this fic again, I would probably stick with The Force Always Says Yes, even though I have since been informed that there is another fic by that name which is a slashfic with Kylo and Rey. Ew.

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...What definition are you using for 'slashfic'? They are a straight pairing last I checked?

 

[Hyenanon]

...What definition are you using for 'slashfic'? They are a straight pairing last I checked?

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Whoops I just had a brainfart lol. I just meant to say it was a shipping fic I think

Although I guess it's technically not even shipping since it's a canon pair. blegh...

 

[po-tay-toes]

Nerim was still desperately climbing as he felt as sudden foreign pang of fear. He glanced up to see Aesha bring down a formidable diagonal swipe, which Chey-Linn only barely leaned back and dodged in time. The Padawan's breath caught as she realized the sudden danger, her mind focused on what she perceived to be a threat—a Dark Sider in training, what she was sworn to destroy. In her mind, there was no room to hold back.

Aesha tried to catch her on the backswing, pulling the blade in a horizontal slash at Chey-Linn's shoulder height. It was a terrible mistake, made only more terrible by the fact Nerim could see exactly where it would lead a moment before it did. Chey-Linn quickly dodged underneath it, dropping to one knee while rushing forward and letting loose her own horizontal slash.

Chey-Linn's blue blade sliced directly through Aesha's legs, just above the knee, burning through her flesh with an electric hum and a hiss. He could almost swear he heard the bubbling and popping of her flesh at the point of contact, as the Cathar Princess let out a silent, shocked breath and fell to the branch beneath her with a sickening thud. Nerim's lightsaber slipped out of her hands and deactivated, beginning a long fall down the hundreds of stories to the savanna floor.

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Nerim awkwardly entered the large antechamber, just outside of an operating room. Inside the smooth white room, stacked with medical equipment and several droids and sentient doctors alike, laying back on a thin medical bed was Aesha. Or at least, most of her. Her legs were cleanly amputated just above the knee, bandaged up for now.

She looked dreadfully tired, and her fur was slick and slimey with bacta residue. Her eyes were red, and her pupils were flat and lifeless. Jarroa stood over her, holding her hand in his, his face etched with deep worry. Nerim briefly noticed, set out on the table next to them were two cybernetic legs, currently being worked on by a medical droid with what seemed to be a dozen small arms.

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He looked down and saw an alert on his datapad, that he had received a message. He opened it, expecting to see Tetha's response, only to find a picture of Aesha standing on two prosthetic legs, her arms out to balance herself. Beneath it, she had written "Bet I could still beat you in a race, Jedi Boy."

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i dont have words for my current set of emotions. im gonna try to find some anyway or atleast put the mess in my head to pen before going to sleep.

Spoiler: wall of text and tangled emotions

that whole series of events was a shitshow. my gut is full of fire and there is violence in my eyes.

worse than enemy action i feel as if ive witnessed a mistake, like throwing a grenade into a preschool. the sort of deed where no higher authority can earnestly pardon and no circumstances can justify.

to quote MarcoMeatball: "Things are never going to be the way they should be".

and yet with this single line - that quoteblock from chapter 35 - i am feeling like... how do i convey this?

your mother puts your dog in the car and drives off alone saying that hes going to a farm, and you know what that means but a year later you find out your uncle owns goats and the farm is an actual place.

it should be fucked beyond repair, you saw it happen, and yet...

[THIS SPACE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK]

good stories often fuck me up because i get attached and then the author does a thing. and when that happens usually it feels like the writer is intentionally taking advantage of my empathy to give me an emotional shove down the stairs.

you've turned a defining moment of irreparable damage and irreversible deeds into human cathar Kintsugi.

and man that is a pretty pot.

Then, there was a sickening sound. It was the fwumph of a small explosion almost like a firecracker, but with more sizzling, combined with the squelch of something muffled by wet meat. Blood and molten metal sprayed out from behind her against the steel wall of the kitchen, and she slumped over onto the floor, instantly dead. Where the back of her head was, now was a orange-hot mess, trailing down her spine.

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well that escalated quickly.

im gonna be honest i was expecting an assassin or long distance force kill instead of a bomb.

I'm glad to hear it, I hope you enjoy the rest too! I like giving my characters time to chill out and grow. I never liked the trend of treating characters like punching bags and relying on diabolos ex machina, which is what I think a lot of writers, both of fanfiction and in the industry, are drawn to nowadays.

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first: i have reached the current chapter and still stand by my previous statement.

second: im pleasantly surprised that you keep pulling on these threads instead of abandoning them in favor of new ones, at the time i wrote that i was expecting characters such as Tetha and Aesha to be one-and-done plot elements for their stories instead of recurring characters.

third: i approve of your approch to things and i officially like you now, please undergo mitosis at your earliest convenience to increase the amount of quality writers similar to yourself.

...also, as i see you're a fellow connoisseur of CYOAs and prequels fan, have you seen "Jedi: Guardian of the Republic"?

 

[NotIntoFeet]

Lotta foot chases in this one. Also you're a sneaky one for that literal red herring umbrella.

 

[Hyenanon]

i dont have words for my current set of emotions. im gonna try to find some anyway or atleast put the mess in my head to pen before going to sleep.

Spoiler: wall of text and tangled emotions

that whole series of events was a shitshow. my gut is full of fire and there is violence in my eyes.

worse than enemy action i feel as if ive witnessed a mistake, like throwing a grenade into a preschool. the sort of deed where no higher authority can earnestly pardon and no circumstances can justify.

to quote MarcoMeatball: "Things are never going to be the way they should be".

and yet with this single line - that quoteblock from chapter 35 - i am feeling like... how do i convey this?

your mother puts your dog in the car and drives off alone saying that hes going to a farm, and you know what that means but a year later you find out your uncle owns goats and the farm is an actual place.

it should be fucked beyond repair, you saw it happen, and yet...

[THIS SPACE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK]

good stories often fuck me up because i get attached and then the author does a thing. and when that happens usually it feels like the writer is intentionally taking advantage of my empathy to give me an emotional shove down the stairs.

you've turned a defining moment of irreparable damage and irreversible deeds into human cathar Kintsugi.

and man that is a pretty pot.

well that escalated quickly.

im gonna be honest i was expecting an assassin or long distance force kill instead of a bomb.


first: i have reached the current chapter and still stand by my previous statement.

second: im pleasantly surprised that you keep pulling on these threads instead of abandoning them in favor of new ones, at the time i wrote that i was expecting characters such as Tetha and Aesha to be one-and-done plot elements for their stories instead of recurring characters.

third: i approve of your approch to things and i officially like you now, please undergo mitosis at your earliest convenience to increase the amount of quality writers similar to yourself.

...also, as i see you're a fellow connoisseur of CYOAs and prequels fan, have you seen "Jedi: Guardian of the Republic"?

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Thank you so much for this post!!! It was really gratifying to read, and I'm so glad I could have that effect on you! I've always had sort of the same feeling with stories, especially ones that have sad endings. There's a sort of lack of closure or purpose to much of the suffering, and it can make me almost regretful to have read it. There's a place for that in fiction, I suppose, but I feel like it's dreadfully overused. I much prefer when there is purpose and growth to things. I really like your comparison to kintsugi, I hope to carry that forward.

I will try to perform mitosis ASAP! And yeah, I love Guardian Of The Republic! I've played it multiple times, really super good. I think maybe my favorite CYOA ever is Jedi, General, Pirate, Sith, even though it's practically unplayable and weirdly balanced, just because it's SO much and SO good. Also big fan of So, You Wanna Rule The Galaxy?, which I made a big build for as a Jawa post-Separatist warlord. I've also made two Star Wars CYOAs myself, Jedi Academy and Star Wars: Mercenary. I kinda have an obsession with Star Wars CYOAs, really...

Lotta foot chases in this one. Also you're a sneaky one for that literal red herring umbrella.

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I can't even blame you for the foot pun because I was baiting with that umbrella super hard...