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Jedi Republic - Jedi Temple Com Forum
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I guess it's a time for some people like myself to climb out of whatever holes we've been hiding in and come out for the celebrations.
        
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| hehe... I'll tell you about my hole. Its called World of Warcraft. I play the game every free moment I have. I got a level 30 Night Elf Druid. Game is pretty time consuming. (but I guess ALL Online RPGs are ) |
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how is the beta?? WoW look promising?
    
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I must say, it warms my little black heart to see so much activity in the Jedi again.
Welcome back everyone. 
 
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Just dropping in to wish the mighty Jedi a happy one year celebration; us honourary Jedi should put our hands up too!
CONGRATS!!! 
     
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Episode II
With a practiced nudge of the thruster controls, Dooku gently eased his Special Forces starfighter onto the Jedi Temple landing pad. Maintenance droids scurried out from their wall niches, but were clearly confused by the heavily modified craft, so different from the Jedi starfighters to which they were accustomed. Dooku, or Monkson as he was sometimes known, was the fighter wing commander for SF, and his craft was outfitted with oversized engines, gatling lasers, and even a small torpedo launcher. The cockpit was almost an afterthought, and blended so well into the camouflaged paint that the sudden appearance of the pilot made one of the droids dart back in surprise.
Dooku tossed his helmet back into the ship, and shook the wrinkles out of his black cloak. He turned back to the Temple entrance. Yoda was waiting.
"Hmmm. Welcome, Count Dooku. A long time it has been. Coloring your hair you are, yes?"
Self-consciously, Dooku put a hand to his jet-black hair. "No, my old Master. It’s natural. The Special Forces have a device called a ‘Transmogrifier.’ It originally turned humans into animal form, but since a malfunction it’s behaved erratically. In my case, it just gave me a makeover."
Yoda snorted. "Physical form matters little. Appearance even less."
"If you’d been in a few barfights with a polar bear and a shark on your side, you might think differently. Has Ben showed up yet?"
"Obi-Wan is with his old Master, Qui-Gon. They are exploring the new Temple and will meet with us shortly. I have sensed a great disturbance in the Force. There is much to discuss."
* * *
When Coruscant had been transported through the dimensional rift to the Metaverse, the Jedi had been forced to adapt to their new environment. Alcohol on old Coruscant was weak, watery stuff; Budweiser and Pabst were considered fine brews, and Heineken was nearly an elixir. Hard alcohol was unknown. When first contact was made with the pirates of GROSS, of course, this all changed; but an unforeseen result was the Jedi’s power in, and control of, the Force.
It was quickly noted that drunken Jedi gained power in the Force, even as their control over it evaporated. Theories abounded. Qui-Gon claimed that the loss of mental focus helped one to become more in tune with the living Force. StBlasius’s careful scientific observations hinted that midi-chlorians in the bloodstream bred like maggots when exposed to a sudden infusion of high-octane booze. Whatever the cause, it quickly became obvious to everyone – especially insurance companies – that alcohol-fueled Jedi could do a lot of damage. It became necessary to strike a balance between consumption and control, and many Jedi lamented their loss of alcoholic freedom.
Except in one room of the Temple. Icho’s Bar and Grill, with walls reinforced by tritanium buttresses and shielding strong enough to deflect a Death Star blast, was the one place on Coruscant where drunken binges were not only permitted, but welcomed as therapeutic. With the impending anniversary of the Republic, though, a few pirates had stopped by with some particularly powerful beverages, and Icho was wondering if the walls would hold after all.
Qui-Gon sat on one side of the table. Across from him, KitWarrior of GROSS, a long-time contract trainer for the Sith. Both renowned, even legendary, drinkers. The shot glasses were piled high, and a crowd of onlookers gazed breathlessly at the duel in progress.
Smoke drifted lazily through the air. That was left over from the earlier duel. Obi-Wan and EBZ had met each other at the bar, and had decided to uphold their empires’ honor with a drinking contest. After going through two bottles of absinthe and two cases of Romulan Ale, in the process setting fire to the bar surface, melting the mirror, and "installing" a cathedral ceiling, the two had agreed to call it a draw and pass on the challenge to the true masters. So Qui-Gon and Kit, brains stewing in an unholy mix of every liquor imaginable, stared menacingly at each other across the table.
Captain Jack leaned jauntily on the scarred, smoking bar surface, chatting with a pretty Twi’lek barmaid. "And the beauty of it is the profit margins we get on these Coruscant runs. I mean, we ‘liberate’ the booze – no investment there. It’s just the operating costs of the Doom that need to be taken care of, and a percentage for the crew..."
EBZ staggered by, careening off several patrons and the floor before reaching his captain. He shakily handed him a phone. "It’s Mrs. Pontius, boss. She’s in a meeting with some interior decorator again."
Captain Jack paled.
Kit downed a slug, and hurled the shotglass over his shoulder. Icho frantically Force-grabbed it before it shattered – he was starting to run low.
Suddenly, the swinging doors burst open. The pirates instinctively reached for their monofilament cutlasses and Death Ray Zorchers, but it was just Theoden; they relaxed. The newshound rushed into the room, a pile of newspapers under one arm.
"Extra! Extra! Read all about it!"
"READ?!?" muttered Obi-Wan from his comfortable resting place inside an empty keg. "I can barely SEE."
"Galactic Guardians empire shatters! Guardians of Doom empire established! Chaos in the Metaverse!"
A rush of overturned tables drowned out any further headlines. Obi-Wan blew apart his keg with a Force blast, tried to stand (and failed), and had to settle for levitating over the crowd. Theoden, on the verge of being trampled, drew his sword and circled warily.
"In the name of Rohan, BACK!"
Exar stepped forward. "Umm, Theoden, you’re the Emperor of the Guardians. Aren’t you a little bit biased to write about that topic?"
Theoden smiled beatifically. "I am a JOURNALIST, young Jedi. I am above petty politics, and can maintain my objectivity. The Fourth Estate’s mandate is a sacred honor – no, a DUTY – and can-"
Sherbert scanned frantically through the top story. "It’s the Evil Guardians! They've defected, and set up their own shop! They’re threatening the balance of the Metaverse!"
Captain Jack rubbed his palms together; there was a glint in his eye – fortunately concealed by the patch. "Well, it’s just going to make the top spot easier to get, and give us someone else to – umm – TRADE with. Yeah, that’s it, TRADE. This isn’t bad – this is a VICTORY for free enterprise!"
Suddenly, Yoda’s tired voice came from the door. The aged Master was silhouetted in the light from the hallway, and the bar abruptly became silent, save for his chilling voice. "VICTORY you say...Victory? It is as I feared. Confusion. Chaos. The disturbance in the Force is here.
"Begun, the Alignment Wars have."
* * *
The two Jedi Starfighters looked out of place on the landing platform. Tiny and sleek, they were surrounded by bulky troop transports. The platform shuddered as a Death Knight slowly glided overhead. All of the ships were bone-white, bearing the markings of Fleet Admiral Lothmorg’s Legions of Doom.
Of course, the Jedi ships looked even more out of place because of their midnight-black coloring. Their pilots stood nearby, carefully watching the marshalling of Lothmorg's massive fleet.
"I’m still not sure if this is a great idea," muttered Kryo.
KEmperor sipped slowly at a glass of mulled wine. These Guardians had a fine tradition of alcoholic beverages, dating back to their days on Middle Earth; the Sith master was pleased. "Of course it’s a great idea. We’re evil, remember? Power? Revenge? Personal wealth? All of that good stuff?"
Kryo absently rubbed out the stiff muscles in his neck; he could still feel the imprint of cold, ghostly fingers. "But on OUR TERMS, K. We were always the most powerful of the Sith. I don’t like taking orders from an outsider, whatever the prospects of success."
KEmperor shrugged. "That’s what you get for being ‘Evil Lite,’ pal. Your desires and goals are corrupted because you’re weighing too many options." He gestured at the massive command Avatar overhead. The ship was in low orbit, but was so large that its contours were still plainly visible. "Lothmorg is the most powerful Overlord in history; his troopers overwhelming in number; his commitment to evil is unquestioned; but even HE willingly serves the Dark Lord. You should learn from this. Any taint of doubt poisons our effort from within."
The two felt the presence of unspeakable evil behind them. They turned, to face their Master. The figure spoke. "Doubts, Kryo, my apprentice?"
Kryo, mighty warrior that he was, could not hold that terrible gaze for long, and glanced at his feet, hoping his helmet and breath mask covered his shame and embarrassment. "Forgive me, my lord–"
Surprisingly, the figure chuckled. Striding forward, he placed his hands on the shoulders of his apprentices. "It is of no concern. Our plan for your ‘friends’ on Coruscant will be merely the beginning. Soon, the forces of Good will be crushed, and I will reign."
Kryo was still assailed by doubts. Evil had always been a means to him, rather than an end; though pure good made him queasy, he did what was expedient, rather than taking pleasure in evil for its own sake. He’d decided to follow this unholy Master out of expedience, but was only now beginning to realize what it would mean for his Empire and his Metaverse.
He understood KEmperor had a personal score to settle with Yoda, of course; he’d briefly been the head of the Jedi Republic, had tasted power, and wanted more. But couldn’t he see that exterminating Good completely from the Meta was a touch extreme?
The Dark Lord tightened his grip on Kryo’s shoulder; the Sith winced. "Yes, my apprentice. Only now – in the end – do you understand!"
TO BE CONTINUED
[Message Edited]
 
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Apologize for the run-on length...but there's a lot of characters to cover in this one!
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This is an excellent saga you have been writing! 
   
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Another masterful installment!
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Thanks for the kudos - though it's difficult trying to match the plot to current events, at the pace the Guardians are mixing things up!
| no one has ever put me in a story with a make-over before. |
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Well, the movie Dooku DID look just a touch old to be a fighter pilot. BTW, Dooku, what happened to your profile pic? I noticed mine disappeared as well, and had to re-load it.
One more day until the festivities officially kick off. If'n y'all have email addresses for any absent Jedi, you might want to drop them a line and ask them to stop by the Temple. May the Force be with y'all.
Edit: Aha! The Admiral returns. Good to see you around again, Sherbert!
[Message Edited]
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Great story Ben! Like I said earlier, I enjoy reading it. And consider me to be around for the party if you don't mind, I'm a Star Wars geek at heart.
  
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