mine:swtor

Sith Girlfriends

SI Rateah belongs to @exposed-mama

I updated swtor, logged in, made SW-AU!Remi, and chose an outfit. That was all I was capable of (it took about 6 hours). Starting new reminded me of how young I made Remi when I first started playing. I had assumed the story would span at least a decade and she was a brand new padawan so I put her at 18 and expected her to be almost 30 by the end of the story (chapter 3). So… yeah that timeline didn’t happen, but now all I can think is SW-AU!Remi is in some kind of Korriban High School AU with her girlfriend Rateah.

Also, I tried a new style. I don’t usually draw like this, but it was a nice break from photo studies.

Translated from the written journals of Vumatar be Breshig, great-grandfather of Resayr Bev'miir be Quermia and a local folk hero among certain groups of Mandalorian settlers. This entry details an effort by Vumatar and his eight companions, who go mostly unnamed, to disable a planetary mining vehicle.

In the dawn there came a great howling like wind through a stone tunnel, scattering the night-animals from the bushes and shaking the ground so that our boots became covered with the fine, thick dust that covered the arid plain. In time we saw a shape, rumbling on the horizon, a great black tooth thrust from the flatness to break the uniformity of the sky. The boy Nibarayr, who was often quick to identify such things, exclaimed, “It is a great machine that tears up the ground; I have seen them deployed by merchant fleets to strip asteroids of their ores.” I said, “What business has this vehicle on a plateau such as this?” and was not met by an answer. So, having little else to occupy us and supplies enough to make the journey, we walked to the thing that we might see it a little sooner.

Upon reaching the machine, the noise grew so deafening that we could communicate only by comlink, and even then not with great clarity of sound. Inspection of the great rut or canyon left by the machine’s belly revealed little of what it was deployed for, but some insight into why it was there. It was noted by several that the track curved in an inefficient manner to extract valuable materials from the soil and rock. Not only was this noted as strange, but also that the model appeared very old; being of a different shape than those we had seen before and bearing a great amount of dust and mud on its sides. By this we concluded that the machine was malfunctioning, had long finished its duty, and was wandering in a very rude way across this planet and disturbing the most handsome native wildlife I had briefly mentioned before.

After a deliberation of whether or not the destruction of this thing constituted a crime, and having come to the conclusion that none present were terribly concerned by this possibility, we set about the machine taking careful note of its mechanisms, the way it scooped the soil into its belly, and its method of propulsion, so as to ensure our own safety in the event of a large explosion. Once this was done, Tatya, a lover of flame and all things bright, volunteered to weld one of the great scoops to its axle that the machine would be immobilized. After nearly one quarter-hour of this effort, Tatya, despairing, asked that we destroy the machine with explosives, that it had been more sturdy than expected, spitefully so, and he now wished only to see it ruined. Gleefully we all agreed to go forth and execute this new plan, and having procured a good deal of baradium from our camp at the foot of the hill, we went to work at our second effort to demolish the machine.

We lined the ground in front of the thing with mines, the sort designed to disable very large armored vehicles, as they were the most suitable thing we had. After this was finished, all of us ran to a boulder and crouched behind, laughing like buffoons. To speak honestly, the boulder did not offer adequate protection, but it is customary to hide behind a large object when setting off explosives, and we prefer to do things traditionally. When the machine reached the first row of mines, it drew them into its scoop-maw with such eagerness that they failed to detonate momentarily. To our relief, however, they did explode once lodged within its belly, making a terribly loud noise and a puff of black smoke. Following this, the machine creaked, but continued on to the next row of mines, which would be its death. Drawing these mines up once again into its belly, they detonated while still within the scoops, removing them from their axes and immobilizing the vehicle. The noise having stopped, we all came forth to retrieve the remaining mines, and spent the subsequent evening carving our names into the cheap metal plating of the machine, as well as certain rude symbols and images that will not be replicated in this journal, for fear that my children may one day read it and be very disappointed.

A thought:

Lana names you Alliance Commander. You’re in on the councils, you know all the plans, you know what’s happening.

Lana, Koth, and Senya are all absolutely aware that you have Vitiate/Valkorion riding shotgun.

DOESN’T THIS SEEM LIKE A BAD IDEA TO ANYONE ELSE?!