Between the Conclaves – 7. Coruscant, Part 2

7. Coruscant

Part 2

Shamila looked up, feeling a hand on her shoulder. A slight smile appeared on her face, wet with tears as she recognized the young man sitting knelt down before her, smiling at her. “Nill…” She gently clasped the hand on her shoulder while wiping her tears away, but then saw the smile on his face disappear and a piercing look locking his eyes with hers. “N-nill? Wha…”

“I told you to look after Vhiran and Bultar.” His voice sounded strict. “Now they’re dead. Why didn’t you look after them? Why didn’t you protect them? Why, Shamila?”

“N-Nill, I…”

Nillanthir didn’t give her time to continue. Sweeping her hand on his away he rose to his feet and looked down at her with a look of sadness, anger and disappointment. “I trusted you, Shamila. And you killed my friends. I will never forgive you for that.”

Her vision blurred as tears welled up again, but she could just see a red round stone in Nillanthir’s hand. Then slowly it fell down, and burst into pieces as it struck the ground just before her. She covered her face as the pieces of the stone scattered all around. As she looked back, Nillanthir had already turned around and walked away. Shamila felt unable to move, even do anything. Seeing the pieces of the Heart of Fire she had given him as a sign of her love for him lying scattered around the chamber, and Nillanthir walking off and fading away along with the spirits of Bultar and Vhiran fading she sat as if frozen to the ground. For a moment it was eerily quiet…

“You were my sister!” Bultar’s voice then sounded again, seemingly coming from nowhere. “Why didn’t you protect me?!”

“You did nothing about it!” Vhiran added. “I died because of you!”

“You killed us! Shamila, you killed us!”

“You killed them! I will never forgive you, traitor!” Nillanthir called.

Shamila gritted her teeth. She closed her eyes and covered her ears in an attempt to block out those awful voices. But they continued, and they multiplied. As countless voices wailed through her head, their words became nearly incomprehensible and indistinguishable. She could only pick up fragments of what they said.

“Sister… killed us… traitor… cause of you… why… never forgive you… my sister… killed my friends… thing to help… traitor… why did y… protect me… kill me… why… sister… my friends… killed me… you killed us… why… traitor…”

With every passing moment Shamila started shaking heavier, tears ran down faster and faster, did not stop even when they started stinging her eyes. She tried so hard to be strong, but the voices continued, without ceasing a single moment, their wailing filling her with fear. And the words thrown at her by the people she cared about most of all struck her like countless blades cutting through her. She could not bear it anymore. The fear, the guilt, the pain. She fell over, rolling over the floor, thrashing her limbs and head around like crazy. And all along she kept on screaming, in utter terror. “NO!!! NO, STOP IT!!! STOP IT!!! GO AWAY!!! STOP!!! GET AWAY FROM ME!!! PLEASE STOP IT!!! PLEASE!!! PLEASE!!! No longer was she in the cave by now. Nillanthir and the spirits were gone. There was nothing around, but she did not notice anything that happened, only the voices were there, mercilessly torturing her without end. Then suddenly all became silent again. She lied still. Was it over?

A soft breathing sounded below her. Slowly looking downwards her eyes then widened upon seeing Bultar’s deathly pale face as the woman who had become like her big sister crawled over to her, using just her hands to carry forward the rest of her blood-stained body over the rock floor, looking at her with big widened eyes. Shamila’s eyes shot upward as a lock of brown hair appeared above her and suddenly there was Vhiran’s face, even paler than usual, hanging over her, staring down with wide emotionless eyes fixed on her. And just as she wanted to sit upright and crawl away, she noticed a young girl in rags sitting before her, her hands on her pulled up legs. It was so strange. Her hair, her face, her eyes. The girl seemed a bit paler than her, but otherwise she looked exactly the same! She turned her head and stared at Shamila intensely, then the next moment her face turned into Nillanthir’s. “Traitor!” She heard her own voice screaming out of Nillanthir’s mouth. “Traitor!”

She curled up, pulling her arms over her ears, and shut her eyes tight, and she screamed. She screamed louder than she had ever done before. Then everything around her disappeared and she fell, down into a deep darkness.

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Between the Conclaves – 7. Coruscant, Part 1

7. Coruscant

Part 1

Shamila…” The voice sounded vague, far away, yet something about it was familiar.

She slowly opened her eyes. Her look carefully moved around. All she could see was rock, all around her. A cave again… Was she on Kessel, or was it Dantooine? Or… Could it be…? She sat upright, getting a good look of the cave she was in. Her eyes lit up. There was no doubt. Although she had only been there shortly, there was no way she would not recognize this place. Zaloriis. That means, Nill… But, how did I…

“Shamila…” It sounded clearer this time, but somehow she still couldn’t place it.

“Yes?” She replied hesitantly. No reply. She looked to the side. Nothing. “W-who’s there?” she asked somewhat nervously, but gathering all courage she could muster. Silence. “P-please answer me.” The girl stood up, again looking around, listening carefully. Not a living soul seemed to be around. She walked towards the exit. Perhaps the voice came from outside.


Startled the young Padawan let out a shriek. It came from behind her now, again familiar, but this time also cold, and hollow. “P-please… W-who are you?” Shaking slightly she carefully she turned her head, not knowing what to expect.

“Why?” The voice now had a sound of desperation about it as it asked. Shamila gulped. A transparent faintly lighting image stood before her, motionless, continuously staring at her with a sad look in its eyes. “Why, Shamila?” it asked. “Why didn’t you protect me?”

The girl started shaking more wildly, her eyes widened. “B-bultar?”

“I thought we were sisters. Why, why did you kill me?”

Shamila shook her head. “N-no, I didn’t, I didn’t kill you … Bultar, p-please… I…”


She turned her head again. Another familiar sight, as transparent as Bultar’s spirit, towered over her, his look angry. “M-Master. N-no. You too?”

“You didn’t do anything, Shamila,” Vhiran’s voice boomed. It sounded hollow, but at the same time clearly resonated in her ears. It had had a burning, terrifying anger about it, completely overwhelming the young girl. “I died, because you didn’t do anything to help me. You let me die! You killed me!”

“Master!” Shamila fell to her knees, her eyes already red of the tears that rapidly ran down her face. “No, I wanted to help, but I was so scared! Everything went so fast! I didn’t know what to d…”

“You killed us, why?!” Bultar and Vhiran now called out as one. “Why, Shamila?!”

“No! Please! I didn’t want any of you to die!” She buried her face half in her hands. “I didn’t want any of this to happen! Please, believe me! I…”

“Shamila…” A third voice. It was different from the other two, gentler, more alive.

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Between the Conclaves – 6. Kessel, Author’s Notes

With Kessel concluded, it’s time for another look behind the scenes of the series. It’s a lot of fun looking back at what was going through my writing minds over ten years ago. I remember that massive boost of inspiration I had before writing these notes. Definitely something I’d like to see more of. And of course, I’ve definitely looked at the last paragraph with quite a different perspective, considering the one first the tragic passings of last year. :( Despite that, I do hope you’ll enjoy this second instalment of my original and completely unaltered author’s notes for Between the Conclaves! ^_^

6. Kessel

Author’s Notes

24-01-2006 (around midnight)
Yeah, around midnight, or more like far past it! *yawn* I really need to go to bed. It’s just I suddenly had such a burst of inspiration that I just couldn’t stop myself until I finished this part. And it’s done. Yay! Again credits to John Ostrander, for the dialogue I’ve taken from ‘Purge’, this time for the dialogue in Vhiran’s vision. And that’ll probably be the last time I’ve purposely taken text literarily from another one’s work. Now you can safely read ‘Purge’, by the way, without spoilers. I recommend you do. You don’t need it to understand ‘Between the Conclaves’ better, but, although a tad short, it’s worth the read, really!

Hey, any guesses on who’s my least favourite Jedi? Hee-yeah, that not so prestigious title goes to none other than *drum roll* Master Koffi Arana! Remember kids: don’t do Dark Side! You might end up like this jerk here! Nah, I’m going to stop bashing him. I really can’t stand character bashing, even though he just killed off my dear Bultar. Jerk… … Ok, bashing ends here…

BAM! And with one sudden direct hit, down goes the character shield! Just so there’s no confusion about it: Bultar is dead. You know, as in not alive. Dead, you hear me, DEAD! Conclusion: all forum discussions on her fate (as so often seen in story/comic/series forums) are henceforth completely useless. Hah! Anyway, this of course means, through the Force bond with my fictional alter ego, that Vhiran has to have bitten the dust as well. And poor little Shamila falling from so high, and then something goes “crack!”. To be honest, I kind of hate myself somewhat for doing all this to them. The biggest jerk here is not Koffi, but me. While the story progresses, the writer usually develops some sort of bond with their characters. And I’m no different. To me, my characters are pretty much my children and I’m very fond of them, particularly Shamila. Then of course the question arises: Why the hell do I do this to them?! Looks like I’m one lousy dad. It’s as I said in a conversation with Nill (the real one, duh!) once: it’s a good thing my characters are not real. If they were they’d probably hate my guts and run after me, viciously waving their weapons in the air, and not stopping until they’ve completely and utterly butchered me for everything I’ve put them through. Can you see it before you? I can (in cartoon style with Benny Hill music in the background!), and I’m laughing my ass off (in my mind, just so I don’t wake anyone up)! XD

Well, the rest of the story then. Hmm, well first off, contrary to most of this part, its ending certainly turned out completely different than I had in mind. The mystery man with the weird voice was supposed to be there, just, not like this. The change of end is the reason of the length of ‘Kessel’. I thought it was going to be the longest of the current six and had I stuck with what I first planned, it would probably have turned out that way, or at least quite a bit longer than it is now. Looking back though, I think this turned out better than the initial idea, so that’s good. What the initial idea was, I will not reveal as of now. Maybe later on, but not now. Trust me, I have my reasons.

Other than that, what else is there to say? Oh, yeah, fun fact. The senior Imperial officer. He’s supposed to sound like Alan Rickman (y’know, the guy who no less than brilliantly plays Severus Snape in the Harry Potter movies). Just read it out loud with his voice, and try and compare the “Mister Vakluu…” with “Mister Potter…” Well, does he? Don’t know if it turned out all that well, don’t even know why I actually did this, but I just did it and it was fun. ^^

And thus ends the second instalment of the magnificent “Author’s notes”. Thank you for your time!

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Daily Writing Part 143 Story of Poems Part 77

Random word of the day: Fall. Boxing

Well, well, well… Have we finally reached the end of this chapter? I might come back on that if I find a way to conclude it I find more satisfying, but this one does look like a decent point to wrap things up here and move the story to its next phase, whatever that will entail. No matter the outcome, at least we’ve learned what the sun looks like in the world of this story! ^_^

Apologies for the major delay. I’ve said before that there’s a lot going on in my life at the moment, which unfortunately hasn’t been the most beneficial for my writing (and by extension this blog). I’m not ready to just throw it all away, though. By now it’s probably more than clear that the post a day I initially aimed for is unlikely to continue for now, but three posts a week seems like a manageable goal. So that’s what I’ll be setting out to achieve. For now, though, let’s finally get back to the story! ^_^

The Artist’s Tale. Chapter 4
Meanwhile near the chapel’s entrance
Lied the pieces of its gate
A charred trail shaped just like a runway
Ran for many meters straight

At the trail’s end rose a tall spiked ridge
Where the giant gull was seated
Below, among the capsicums
Lied its enemies, defeated

Like the needle of a compass
The bird’s head then turned North
Where, near a cabin, from a bush
Five creatures scuttled forth

There appeared without a sign
Four scorpions, fleet of foot
And a fifth on massive wheels
Emitting dark black soot

No time to spare!” one of them called
And warily looked ’round
Then placed the bin within its claws
Before it on the ground

Energy flowed as it opened
Straight up to the sky
As on instinct, then, the artist
Held their toothbrush high

Down then came the energy
And with the brush collided
Then visions of a lawn appeared
Where prejudice had subsided

No labels used for anyone
No judgment did befall
‘t Was filled with peace up to the brim
And iPods, free, for all

Just as it came the vision went
As a telephone went ringing
The artist recognized the tone
Guitars, quite loud but swinging

With a slight bit of embarrassment
They picked their phone up fast
A sparkling voice replied at once
“Just parking! Please hold fast!”

A butterfly came flying in
Just as the call had ended
A pattern like a compass shaped
Showed on its wings so splendid

I take the picnic hasn’t ended”
Spoke the butterfly
“The referendum can’t begin”
“Before we had some pie!”

In any case, I’m glad you came”
“Especially you, old gull”
“How have you been, my feathered friend?”
“Still as wealthy as you’re dull?”

Before the gull could answer
The butterfly set down
On a bed of manlike flowers
Playing music with a frown

We’ll be needing every bit of help”
The giant gull then spoke
“Do you still have that submarine?”
“The one you nearly broke?”

The Elephant! Good thinking, friend!”
“Don’t worry, she still sails”
“Although right now she’s stuck in court”
“Once out, she’ll tip the scales”

They barely finished speaking
When a swarm of moths appeared

The court has been attacked!” they called
By the Pirates of the Beard!”

Then we must hurry there at once!”
The butterfly replied
“For this can only mean one thing”
“Good captain Verb has died!”

The scorpions picked up their box
The seagull spread its wings
The toys took out a pillow case
To gather all their things

Climb on my back,” the seagull said
The artist followed suit

And wear this aluminium hat”
Lest tragedy’s afoot!

Hold on, unless you want to fall”
The bird called and took flight
As in the sky a boxing glove
Rose up to end the night


For the first chapter of The Artist’s Tale click here.

For the second chapter of The Artist’s Tale click here.

For the third chapter of The Artist’s Tale click here.

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Between the Conclaves – 6. Kessel, Part 5

6. Kessel

Part 5

Eight bodies, five of them Human, the other three all of separate species: an Aleena, a Nikto and tall broad being looking strikingly similar to a Tarro. These were probably the Jedi that had gathered here, judging from the equal number of lightsabers that lied scattered around and held in the lifeless hands of some. So, like Atris’ long-ago gathering on Katarr, so has Shadday Potkin’s conclave on Kessel ended in disaster… The man’s torn clothing did not do much to conceal the burns and wounds that covered nearly his entire body. Seemingly unaffected by his many injuries he slowly wandered around the chamber, his eyes turning to each of the Jedi as he passed them. He stopped, looking down at one of the fallen, a dark-skinned man in red armour, and knelt down. A small sword had pierced this man’s chest, the severed black glove-covered hand of its last wielder still grasping the weapon’s hilt. Whose was this? The man looked around. None seemed to have lost a hand, save from the woman lying in the centre of the chamber, and hers was lying near her. No, this hand belonged to a ninth person, no doubt the one responsible for the carnage that had taken place here, probably long gone by now.

He took another good look around, this time stopping halfway, his gaze falling on a lightsaber, sticking from under a pile of rubble a few meters away. The man stretched his arm towards the weapon, lifting it from the ground and within a second pulling it to his hand. One look at it was all he needed. This was definitely hers. His head turned. Immediately he saw the woman on the other side of the room, lying on her side, the black burn hole through her stomach clearly visible. Within a few steps he had reached her and placed her on her back. She seemed peaceful enough at first glance, but from the look on her face the pain she had been through was clear. The last moments following the death blow had passed quickly, yet during those last moments she had fought with all strength she had left to stay alive. Was it the strain of that last fight that had caused her to be in such pain? Or, was it the realization, just before she passed away, that she had lost the fight, and with it that of another? “A bit sooner and it didn’t have to be like this. I’m sorry, Bultar.” There was something strange about his voice, as if there were more than one speaking at the same time. “It’s probably a good thing Vhiran isn’t here to see you now. No doubt it would have broken him.” He rose to his feet, carefully lifting up her body. “Now, there is one more thing for me to do for you. But before that, I’ll have to go look for Shamila first. I can’t just leave her to rot here on this rock.” With a faint smile he looked at the woman in his arms. “Please be patient for a little longer.” He then turned around and headed for the exit.

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Between the Conclaves – 6. Kessel, Part 4

6. Kessel

Part 4

No… The spice mine chamber faded from sight. With a blank look, Vhiran stared through the ship’s window in the direction of the planet below. No, not again…

“Master?” A soft voice sounded vaguely. But he did not notice it.

Can’t be… He did not notice anything around him. Not his Padawan next to him, not the great capital ship still menacingly floating above them, not the group of starfighters approaching them at high speed, nothing. To him, there was nothing now. Everything had started crumbling down from that one moment the click sounded. And this time, Nillanthir wasn’t there to help out. Bultar…

The fighters opened fire, blasting off the ship’s tail with several direct hits. “Master!” Shamila called out in panic. She loosened the flight straps and jumped at her Master, shaking him heavily in hopes of waking him out of whatever shock he was in right now. “Master, wake up!” The enemy fighters kept firing, their lasers mercilessly pounding against the ship’s walls. It was a sturdy vessel, able to take quite some damage, but at this rate it wouldn’t last for more than a few mere minutes. The girl looked at the control panel. Of course! The shields! If I can get the shields up to full strength, then… Her eyes quickly moved over the numerous buttons and switches. There were so many, and the controls of this ship looked so different than those she had learned about during her training. Which did she need? Its back now ablaze, the ship started slowly plummeting down. The shields would be useless now. And Vhiran just kept sitting there, motionless. “What’s going on?!” Shamila fiercely tugged at his arm. “What’s happening, Master?!” She bit her lip, fighting to keep her tears at bay. Numerous direct hits. While the burning ship plunged through the planet’s atmosphere, the cockpit windows burst open violently.

“I, I failed… I failed again,” Vhiran mumbled. As if instinctively his hand slowly reached out for the lightknife on his sash. A burning, stinging feeling pierced his stomach. For a moment he gasped for breath, then his mouth and eyes closed. With one hand on his stomach, his head dropped…

M-master?” Holding her breath, Shamila watched him. Then, as she saw him sitting completely still, not moving the slightest bit, not even a single sign of breath, she realized what happened. I am, alone. She shook her head, softly at first, but then heavier. “No!” she screamed out in desperation. “No, Master! Don’t leave me! Please, Master!” The air from outside filled the cockpit. The currents now blowing all around tugged at her, as if trying to pull her out. Gritting her teeth Shamila tried to gain a foothold, fought against the wind pulling her up. She stretched out her arms, with all her strength trying to hold on to her Master. All too no avail. The wind proved the stronger one. Her hand just managed to grasp Vhiran’s lightsaber, then she was sucked through the broken windows, out of the ship, into the air. And she fell, meter by agonizing long meter. Only able to stare at the ship, now nearly a ball of fire, shooting off farther and father, carrying away her doomed Master, she fell. Is this, the end? Just before it completely left from her sight, she could vaguely hear a cracking sound. Then all turned black.

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Between the Conclaves – 6. Kessel, Part 3

6. Kessel

Part 3

What is this? Several bodies were scattered across the floor of what appeared to be a chamber inside one of Kessel’s many spice mines. Vhiran recognized a brown-haired Human woman in beige robes as the one who had organized the meeting, Jedi Master Shadday Potkin. Another Human woman, wearing her long red hair in a braid, lied in the middle of the chamber with a burn hole in her chest. Her severed hand still clutched the hilt of her lightsaber. And several meters away from her lay a Nikto man in blue clothing, his body still slightly smoking from a recent lightsaber attack to his chest. ­W-what, happened here? Is this what happened to Shadday’s… In a flash Vhiran’s eyes turned to a group of six that was still standing as the sound of several lightsaber strikes one after another reached his ear. A tall broad man, entirely clad in a black armour with what seemed to be some sort of small computer system on his chest, and wearing a long torn black cape, was surrounded by five others. A black helmet and mask with skeletal features covered his head and face, and through the mask’s mouthpiece he let out a strange mechanical breathing as he leaned against a machine near one of the walls. The smouldering burn at the end of his right arm showed where his hand had been only moments ago. “I underestimated you, my Masters,” he began, his voice deep and weary. “You have proven yourself to be greater adversaries than I anticipated. I am at your mercy.” He lowered his head slightly. “I surrender…”

The five people looked at him with suspicion, uncertain what to do, but the silence was soon broken as a bearded dark-skinned Human man in red armour stepped forward. “No! Look at him! It’s another Sith trick!” he yelled angrily. “He seeks to make fools of us again! Kill him!

Another of the five stepped forward, trying to hold the man back. Vhiran’s heart started beating faster as he recognized her. Bultar! She was alright! He smiled shortly, but then turned serious again, realizing he was only witnessing a vision. Whether it was in the past, in the future, or taking place at this very moment, he was not there, and Bultar could not possibly see him. All he could do now was watch, and wait until the vision ended.

“Stop, Koffi Arana!” Bultar called to the man. “We are Jedi and we do not murder an unarmed enemy who has surrendered!”

He needs to die!” Arana yelled back. Enraged he took hold of her arm. “If you will not kill him, give me the lightsaber and I will!

With all her strength Bultar fought, both to wrestle her arm from his grip and at the same time to get him back to his senses, to prevent him from letting himself be consumed by the raging emotions in his mind. “Don’t give in to your anger, Master Koffi!” she called out in desperation. “Beware of the Dark Side!”

With his teeth clenched together in anger, Koffi reached out for the Knight’s lightsaber. Unable to take it from her, he then fiercely grasped the hand clenching the weapon and pushed it closer to Bultar. His eyes, burning with rage, suddenly narrowed as he moved his face closer to hers. “Whatever weapon I need to kill the Sith, I will take, Bultar Swan…” His voice sounded hoarse, emotionless, merciless.

From that moment everything seemed to move in slow motion. A short click. A hissing sound. A bright green light. Bultar gasped. Her eyes widened for just a moment, staring in shock at the Jedi Master before her. She fell to her knees. Her eyes slowly shutting, her arm stretched as if to reach out for something, Bultar’s body then sank to the ground, and lied still…

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Itsa Me!

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Who? Just your average descendant of two sea-faring peoples, recently graduated anthropology Master and aspiring author with a life-long passion for writing.

What? Uhm, human. I think... Also a bit crazy, but in a good way. I think...

Where? A land under the sea, far, far away. Occasionally with my head in the clouds.

Why? Trying to get both my work and my love for writing out there, sharing them with others and getting in touch with fellow writers, artists and other like-minded people.

Hi! ^_^

NaNoWriMo 2016
NaNoWriMo 2015

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