Star Wars: Advent of Shadows - Updated 9/19/2011

[Lord Ar-Pharazon]

Well, I finally sat down and went through this! I've attempted to a couple of times, but was always intimidated by already having 3 pages (we all know how long it takes a page to grow!) and what appears to be a massive character list. The Library is so speckled with constant praises for it that I thought I'd better catch up once and for all, though...

 

... and I'm quite glad that I did!

 

First, let me say that I am honored that you have read my story. You're definitely one of the ”œheavy hitter”

[Raynuk Montar]

I know its hard Ben

But I dont plan on going anywhere, so I can wait for the 'emo powder keg' as you put it.

[Taren]

You know I'll stick around to see how it turns out. and I'm not mad at ya, but if it's not a dang awesome chapter, I might be tempted....

[Westley]

You know, we're all still waiting to see what you've cooked up for the REAL chapter, right?

[Lord Ar-Pharazon]

You know, we're all still waiting to see what you've cooked up for the REAL chapter, right?

 

Yeah. I apologize. As I told Amidala this on Skype the other day, I had a computer die on me, actually in the coffee shop, as I was working on the next chapter. I lost a lot of progress and have been set back significantly. So, yeah, this sucks.

 

I haven't given up or anything. Actually, I'll do my best to make a huge push tomorrow afternoon when I have some free time.

[Taren]

Sweet! Can't wait! Back up EVERYTHING!

[Lord Ar-Pharazon]

**For this section, I really need to thank Delta. That guy is awesome. He rigorously did a ton of Photoshop work for me, making the masks on the character portraits below.**

 

Chapter Eleven: As One Sun Sets, Another Rises

 

The sleek Dauntless-class cruiser called Majesty glided through a crowded cluster of large capital ships and idling orbital stations high above Coruscant’s atmosphere. Smaller, more maneuverable vessels darted by at even quicker speeds. The entire zone above Eastport was disorganized and congested, with spacecraft of all shapes and sizes lining up to merge into the Perlemian Trade Route, toward the Hydian Way. It was business as usual over the galactic capital.

 

Inside the Majesty, Ar-Pharazon stared down, glancing across the surface of the planet. His fingers drummed along a metal rail. His eyes skittered across the bustling cityscape fondly. He took long advantage of what would likely be his last glance of Coruscant in quite some time and he suppressed a scowl. For one thing, he did not like seeing the Jedi Council fractured for any reason, even if only temporarily, and for another, he liked Coruscant.

 

“You’ve been to Merkava before, haven’t you?” Jidai Geki called from behind him. “How long is this blasted jaunt supposed to take?”

 

“I haven’t, actually. But I understand it’s a five day journey.”

 

“Five days. That is rather bothersome,” he muttered. “No, I was never one for ships.”

 

“You were never one for a lot of things,” said Ar-Pharazon. When he turned around, he saw the old man peering down into a book, obviously directing his attention elsewhere. Geki did not seem to hear him. Or perhaps he did not want to. “I don’t know,” Ar-Pharazon continued, slowly. “I was hoping to get excited about this trip, at least on some level, but I can’t get past the implications of Adi-Wan splitting the Jedi Council apart.”

 

Geki shook his head, turning one of the pages in his book. “I’m not exactly thrilled about it myself, Ar-Pharazon, yet it seems that neither of us have much choice in the matter. If I were you, I’d stop worrying about it.” He paused, and shifted his tone. It was somewhat more kindly, but still gruff. “After all, you don’t want to spend five miserable days bothered by it.”

 

“No,” Ar-Pharazon muttered, after a brief hesitation. “I suppose not.”

 

“Superb,” said Geki. “Then I can get back to reading my book.” A sardonic smile formed on his face. “And let us pray that this journey lasts no longer. As I see it, the more uneventful, the better.”

 

Ar-Pharazon shrugged. “All right, old man,” he said dryly. “If you need me, I’ll likely be in my room. Otherwise, I’ll see you in five days.”

 

***

 

Number Thirteen impatiently hurried through the uppermost halls of the Coruscant Ministry for Public Welfare. Frustrated and running late, she navigated a dingy maze of offices and crammed cubicles, while dodging the ministry’s lowly beneficiaries. Waiting rooms were crowded with slow-moving vagrants and wastrels, turning a once classy skyscraper into a blighted public tenement, filled with homeless drug addicts and loud unruly children. What a mess!

 

Finally, a desk noticeably more elegant than the other office furniture caught her attention. Behind it, the most grandmotherly woman that she had ever seen appeared to be engaged in knitting what looked like a sweater. But perhaps contrary her soft appearance, she wore a dark, almost black dress. It seemed out of place, but Thirteen knew it was wholly intentional. It was precisely what she had been looking for.

 

Without pause, Thirteen leaned on the desk. “I’m interested in acquiring a staffing license,” she said. “Is that something you can help me with?”

 

The old woman smiled. “Well, now, dearie,” she said softly. “Very fine. That is entirely a possibility.” She spoke with long pauses, indicative of her age. “I’m wondering, who are you interested in employing?”

 

“Rodian refugees,” Thirteen rattled off, almost scripted. “I am interested in employing displaced Rodians in various tibana gas operations throughout the Mid-Rim.”

 

“I see,” she replied slowly. “There are references that I will need.” She set her knitting bundle down on the desk. “Including authorization from an accredited commercial trade enterprise, recognized by the Republic. And what about you? Do you have credentials?”

 

For an answer, Thirteen quickly removed a heavy gold signet ring from her belt pouch. Wearing it publically would be too dangerous, as it bore the multi-rayed emblem of the Black Sun criminal syndicate. She extended her hand, letting the old woman see it clearly. “Is this suitable?”

 

"Very well," the old woman speedily replied, as lucid as ever, seeing the ring. “And I’ll see if I can help you with those Rodian refugees. In the meantime, I think there is something you should see.” She pointed to a door behind her desk. “You should find what you’re looking for.”

 

Thirteen played along because she had to, but did not feel obligated to waste further time with random agents at hidden checkpoints. For all she cared, Rodia could have been absorbed into an expanding sun. Without responding, she tucked her ring away, and hurried through the doorway.

 

To her surprise, she found herself in another hallway, dim and shadowy, even more run down than the former. Tall lamps stood unlit and dusty furniture sat unused in disarray. That was, of course, by design. She jogged through the hall quickly until she rounded a corner and abruptly found herself staring at a blank wall. She clipped a white plastic mask to her circlet, in order to conceal her identity.

 

Eyeing things over, she analyzed the gilded trim that ran along the base of the walls, dirty and unpolished, a remnant of the building’s earlier days. However, she knew what to look for. Hurrying, she carefully ran her fingers along the trim, pressing down on each segment, in search of a concealed switch. After a few seconds, a mechanical click sounded from inside the wall. It gave way and opened up a new passage. She went through immediately.

 

The passage led to a spacious meeting room, prominently featuring a long black marble table in its center. Strangely enough, the domed chamber was easily as opulent as any palace, with high-ceilings and fires blazing in enormous twin porphyry fireplaces placed on each end. Suspended golden lamps hung from the base of a towering rotunda, casting a pattern of shadows on the mysterious figures who were already seated. The grandeur of the room itself was a sharp contrast to the rest of the dilapidated structure around it, as was the trend in so many Black Sun sanctuaries across the galaxy.

 

Known only as Number One, the revered, masked leader of the Black Sun enthroned himself at the head of the long marble table, holding court over his infamous criminal empire, in the presence of his most trusted lieutenants – the twelve vigos. Numerically arranged, with the lower digits holding the highest rank, the vigos were seated in order. Two and Three sat across from one another, closest to their leader, followed by Four and Five, and then Six and Seven, and so on. “Welcome, Number Thirteen,” spoke Number One, in a deep, but synthesized voice, modified by some device in his mask. “Take a seat. We are about to get started.”

 

With a slight bow, she replied. “Thank you, Number One.” She took her seat directly across from Twelve at end of the table, farthest from the Black Sun leader. Immediately, she studied her companions, while trying not to look obvious. Each vigo wore a mask in order to protect his or her identity and was only known by an assigned number. Still, Thirteen was able to gather some clues. Accents and dialects, cultural attire, clothing styles, mannerisms, and other subtle actions and details painted a limited, but useful picture of the notorious individuals with whom she was dealing. Each vigo was a brilliant criminal, clever and capable in some mysterious capacity, chosen by Number One to further the ambitions of the Black Sun. There were financial masterminds, plotters and planners, great thinkers and other thieves and criminals who had risen through the ranks of the organization. Thirteen herself was a talented murderer. Her impressive streak of successful high-profile assassinations had finally caught the eye of Number One and launched her to prominence. Nevertheless, she did not know the talents and back-stories of the others, and each of them carried greater rank and tenure than herself. It was a diverse group, incalculably dangerous, held together only by mutual thirst for power and unbridled self-indulgence, and the genuine fear of Number One and his infinite resources.

 

Standing directly behind Number One was his titanic bodyguard. At least outwardly human, the man easily stood far taller than the any other Black Sun enforcer that Thirteen had ever seen. Covered in thick black armor, the man carried a colossal vibrosword on his back. He was as expressionless as a stone pillar and just as still. Thirteen thought him to be an ominous and intimidating addition to the already dangerous group.

 

After a long pause, Number One spoke. “As all of you have undoubtedly noticed, there is a new member in our ranks.” A microphone in front of him projected his voice in an even more commanding way. “I have appointed a new vigo,” continued Number One. “As an assassin in my service, she has more than proven her loyalty. Her efforts, while unseen to many of you, have been invaluable to me and the continued success of the Black Sun. Number Thirteen will be a worthwhile addition to our organization as a new Director of Assassinations.”

 

The other masked faces silently glanced at her in unison. She only nodded. The old adage to speak only when spoken to seemed appropriate. Inevitably she would have to concede her Coruscanti dialect, but hopefully not right away. It was an obnoxious caution, but she was among criminals – potentially the craftiest and most gifted in the galaxy. Any vigo might plunge a knife in any other’s back for the mere gamble of advancement. Concealing every personal detail, no matter how seemingly frivolous, was absolutely necessary.

 

“I must inform you all of the death of one of our numbers,” continued Number One. “The death of any vigo is always regrettable, but Muclev the Hutt’s death has proven to be especially trying. His own foolishness resulted in his incarceration. Shortly after, it became apparent that he was willing to provide evidence of Black Sun’s involvement in high crimes, in exchange for his release. His immediate elimination was necessary. On my orders, Muclev was slain in his prison cell. You may have heard about it in the news.”

 

Thirteen suppressed a smug smile as she listened to Number One describe Muclev’s betrayal. Successfully orchestrating the traitor’s execution had earned her the promotion, but she only now learned that the Hutt was a vigo, and that she would take his place. More obscure than that was picturing the loud and arrogant Hutt at a table of humanoids, subservient to many of them. That would have been a sight, but through her actions, it became moot. Muclev was dead. Her steady hands had guided the saw that cut through his thick body.

 

“And what of the progress from your most recent assignments?” asked Number One after a short pause. “Number Twelve, do you have anything to report regarding our legitimate business enterprises?”

 

“Yes, Number One. Acquisitions of legitimate bacta industries on Thyferra,” spoke the man sitting directly across from Thirteen. He leaned forward to speak into his microphone. A golden mask concealed his entire face. An armored plate covered his fancy shirt. His colored cape almost looked over the top, but was likely added to help further conceal his identity. Still, his look indicated nobility. Perhaps royalty. “We are finalizing the hostile takeover of the Zaltin Corporation. And the Xucphra holdouts should be amenable in a matter of weeks. We're well on our way to monopolizing the galaxy's bacta production.” Recognizably Corellian through his voice, he spoke like a confident businessman of the Core Worlds. He had probably amassed a fortune, which would have undoubtedly caught the attention of the Black Sun.

 

Number One nodded, seemingly satisfied with the report. “Number Eleven,” he commanded next. “Do you have any updates from our intelligence branch?”

 

“I do, Number One. Number Ten and I are orchestrating the defection of two Republic officers from Chommell Minor,” said the woman sitting on Thirteen’s immediate left. Her accent was definitely not from the Core Worlds. Her clothes were eclectic, likely on purpose, but her association with Chommell Minor might not have been a coincidence. The mask she wore over her eyes reminded Thirteen of Gungan ornaments that were featured on a Holonet cultural program.

 

“We have seized their families,” added Ten, who seated directly across from Eleven, reiterating what was a common Black Sun practice. Her voice almost seemed to indicate a certain amount of excitement as she shifted around in her chair. “They have not been harmed, as of right now anyway, but they're being held as leverage.” A veil covered most of Ten's face, while the rest of her body was left exposed by scant, dark silk garments. Her accent was minimal, but her clothes and gestures conveyed decadence and impatience.

 

“We will break them, Number One,” said Eleven. “It’s only a matter of time.”

 

“Well done,” replied Number One, followed by momentary silence. “I have already spoken with Number Nine regarding recent developments in personal stealth shielding. The progress has been sufficient. Therefore, Number Eight. What of your most recent project?”

 

“Assassination of the chief auctioneer at the Corellian Trade House and Brokerage. We acquired twenty-two and a half million credits from his safe and through subsequent hold-ups. It was arranged to look like his suicide, outright ashamed having gambled the Traders’ money away and indebted to Hutt gangsters. And it seems that CorSec is believing it. That said, the money is being laundered as we speak, here on Coruscant.” Eight wore a lavish red gown. She was not dressed as overtly decadent as Ten, but like her, her accent was unrecognizable. Like Twelve, Eight’s speaking style indicated that she may have been a successful businesswoman.

 

“Number Seven,” continued Number One, apparently satisfied. “How are the spice profits for this quarter? Have you encountered any significant interference?”

 

“Well, Number One,” said a woman dressed more modestly than the others, glancing down at various papers in front of her on the table. She adjusted her microphone, moving slightly closer to it. “We should see a slight increase, perhaps up three or four percent. And aside from the investigators that we’ve paid and rigged inquiries of supposedly concerned law enforcement agencies, we have avoided real governmental interference. Our bribes continue to be effective.” Her accent was definitely from Coruscant and her clothes marked nobility. Instead of a mask or veil, a pair of strange, oversized goggles enveloped her eyes.

 

“Number Five?” asked Number One, followed by an unusually long pause, apparently uninterested in Six. “Do you have anything to report?”

 

Number Five grabbed his microphone slowly. “I have nothing to report at this time, Number One.” Had Five's eyes not been covered by oversized eyeshades, Thirteen was sure they would have shown apprehension.

 

The silent pause that followed seemed like forever. “Are you certain you do not have any progress worth reporting?”

 

“I do not, Number One,” Five reiterated.

 

“Then perhaps you could explain why you allowed a classified datachip to fall into the hands of that Hutt?”

Number Five, previously calm and collected, just shook his head in response.

 

After a moment, Number One methodically waved his arm, which prompted his bodyguard to step out and ominously sidle towards Number Five.

 

Seeing who was approaching, Five struggled to producing an initial response. “No! Um. Um. Muclev had access to laboratories. He must have stolen the chip.” The giant man was now right behind him. “I would have never given it to him, Number One! I swear!”

 

“You have failed me,” replied the masked leader of the Black Sun. “Even if you did not give it to him directly, you should have been more vigilant. His participation in your projects was limited. Each instruction and security measure that I give you is to be followed with the utmost scrutiny. You allowed a breach. Therefore, you most certainly have failed me.”

 

Her role in the Hutt’s assassination was making more sense. On Number One’s orders, she extracted an ingested datachip from Muclev’s stomach moments after killing him, which was then immediately erased and destroyed. Luckily, it did not fall into the Republic’s hands.

 

Number One’s muscle-clad colossus effortlessly pulled Five up and out of his seat, holding his dangling feet well above the floor. His eyeshades fell from his face and shattered on the floor below. Every single vigo immediately looked toward Five’s fully exposed face. Thirteen recognized him immediately and many of the others likely did too. His name was Francisco DeGlasso. He was well-known banking magnate on Coruscant. Now he was going to die. But for a change, Thirteen didn’t have to kill him herself.

 

“Number One!” yelled Five desperately, now flailing his arms about in a useless fashion. “Please. I have always been faithful to the Black Sun. And to you!”

 

“No, DeGlasso!” Number One cut him off, coldly, shattering the doomed man's anonymity, which symbolically terminated his membership in the Black Sun. “Such recklessness is unforgivable, and now you try to blame your failures on those beneath you. You almost jeopardized a significant Black Sun operation. In that, there can be no forgiveness.”

 

The iron grip of Number One’s bodyguard tightened as Francisco was raised even higher into the air and carried over towards one of the large fireplaces.

 

“Please, Number One!” he pleaded. “You can have my fortune. You can have my wife! My children! Anything!”

 

“No forgiveness,” repeated Number One, solemnly.

 

Ever silent, Number One's bodyguard took a few steps and hurled Francisco into the fireplace. Thirteen, an accomplished murderer in her own right, suddenly slapped a hand over her mouth.

She stared on from behind her mask, cringing inside. She understood the greater meaning of what was happening. It was to show everyone the price of failure.

 

Screaming in agony, Francisco beat at his pants and coat sleeves as they burned and smoked. His cape was completely engulfed. His armor heated up to basically cook his most vital organs and his feet were on the brink of total destruction from the embers below. His flesh ignited and began to crack and break away. Finally, with his last scrap of strength, he dove out of the inferno and onto the hearth, still fully ablaze. Before he could writhe any further, he was sliced in two, through armor and all, right down the middle, by perhaps the most capable executioner in the entire Black Sun syndicate. Casually, the monumental slaughterer threw the two scorched halves back into the fireplace like thick logs.

 

Thirteen had nothing to say to that. She gave the smoldering mess in the fireplace one sickened glance and then kept her head down. Apparently none of the vigos had anything to say either. Thirteen was a hardened assassin, so she could only imagine what businessmen and diplomats thought of the whole ordeal. Somewhere beyond that, at least half of them were secretly salivating over the prospects of forthcoming promotions.

 

A stunned silence followed, and then Number One spoke, intensifying the uneasiness. “Now, then. With the passing of our colleague, I am confident that the rest of you will become more loyal to me than ever.” He paused, letting it sink in. “So, Number Three. Since everyone is here, will you please tell us about the project that you and the others have been working on.”

 

A compact and clearly athletic man, wearing white and gold burnished armor over dark livery, rose from his seat without hesitation. “Years of planning and preparation by Number Two and I are finally coming to fruition.” Sighing, he briskly rubbed his head with one hand, ruffling his hair in the process. “So, on one hand, the Black Sun is on the verge of initiating its most ambitious project in recent history, so your mutual cooperation is absolutely essential.” There was an enthusiasm in his tone, but obvious reservation. “On the other hand, well...” he went on. “What I can explain in detail is substantially limited. Until we are in the final stages, secrecy is paramount.”

 

He cleared his throat, pushed his chair back, and rose quickly. He sauntered around the long table, handing a sealed black booklet with specific instructions to each vigo. “As I said,” he began, raking a hand through his hair. “I cannot discuss the totality of this project. Therefore, each of your assignments has been carefully crafted by Number Two and I. And, each has been extensively reviewed by Number One and Number Four. Take a moment to open your booklets and silently read over your orders.”

 

As Thirteen unhooked a small, sheathed dagger from her belt, she noticed that Seven's eyes widened considerably as she looked over her orders. Then Seven glanced at Nine, but his eyes and any reaction were concealed by his mask. Perhaps they were working together. Aside from Seven, none of the other vigos reacted as noticeably. No one murmured the slightest protest.

Using the dagger, Thirteen cut through her booklet's seal and looked over the instructions. An assassin's orders were always the same – a list of unlucky individuals, each fated to die. Seeing that she did not initially recognize any of the names, she scanned them with a small, hand-held data recording device. While one or two names might have looked familiar, she would know for sure in a matter of moments. All of the information necessary for finding her targets would be downloaded and viewable too. Then, soon enough, each target would be dead. Folding the booklet shut, she did not give it a second thought.

 

“If you have any questions about your instructions or require specific resources—” Three said finally, “—then bite your tongue immediately and I will meet with you privately.”

 

“One other point, my lords and ladies,” added Two, now standing, notably folding his hands in a meticulous way. His pitch black greatcoat was coated in gray trimming, not typical of any fashion that Thirteen recognized. The same was true with Four as well, a long-haired, buxom woman in a pitch black dress, with gold trimming and mask. The fashionable styling of both Two and Four might have been the same, but there was no way to know. Two continued. “Acquiring the necessary resources for your assignments should not be an obstacle. Providing that you spend it wisely, your finances in these endeavors will be virtually unlimited.” His mask, unlike the others, was just a silver face with an oversized, almost mocking grin, yet ominously still. There was something unsettling about it. “Call in all of your favors,” he announced, walking close to the fireplace. “Betray or bribe whoever it takes. Any difficulties must be and will be eliminated.” He paused for a moment, in order to poke at the blazing logs and coals and bones with the fire iron before hanging it back on its hook. “There is no failure.”

 

There would be little difficulty in disposing of her targets once she found them. After all, killing people was easy. Tracking, however, was something else entirely. No routine desensitization exercises or pill-induced conscience suppressors could make the pursuit of a fleeing scientist across the tundra on Hoth a more desirable experience. Or any more convenient. Luckily, Black Sun was excellent at providing resources. Wild chases were rarely part of her assignments.

 

A beep indicated that her target's scans were complete. Each name was now paired with points of reference, including age, recent whereabouts, occupational information, relevant associates, and a wealth of other useful details. She looked over the names again, checking their supposed professions. She would be hunting two bankers and a merchant first. Business men were always easy to locate, since they relied on public dealings. Then it was just a mere matter of shooting them in the head at the right moment. Next, she would pursue two Coruscanti scientists, who at least were local, which would limit the chase. Then, two likely guarded diplomats in the Mid Rim might prove moderately challenging, but easy enough to locate. A well-placed bomb or two might finish them. Then, as she saw the last name on the list, her eyes widened in surprise. The devil was in the details, or so she heard. By itself, the final name did not mean a lot, but when paired with the relevant information, it was downright terrifying – even for a seasoned murderer. Thirteen thought it was familiar, but now she definitely knew who it belonged to. Taren Hornbeck. Age: 30. Jedi Master and Prefect of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Member of the Jedi High Council. Last Seen: Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Relevant Associates: Adi-Wan Tinova. Vladimir Faust. Hale Akturus. Krystal Kenobi. Lei Kim Ness. Tarrian Skywalker. Assessed Level of Probable Security and Danger: Astronomical.

 

Two and Three continued their intentionally vague discussion of their classified project, but for the rest of the meeting, Thirteen’s attention was fixated on her looming endeavor. Her mind remained focused on killing a Jedi Master. That was all that mattered, but still, it seemed that no ideas came to her. In a perfect scenario, she could have spied with a long-range slug-thrower near the Jedi Temple and opened fire, but there was no way to predict or follow the target. Time constraints did not afford her the luxury to wait weeks or months for the perfect shot, and anything less meant failure and heinous death, probably. Thirteen definitely did not want that. It also meant that Hornbeck would go into hiding. The attack had to be perfect. No exceptions. No failure. No forgiveness.

 

***

 

NEW CHARACTERS:

 

 

Number Thirteen

Position: Black Sun Vigo/Director of Assassinations

Age: ???

Species: Human

 

 

 

 

 

Number Twelve

Position: Black Sun Vigo/Director of Legitimate Business Enterprises

Age: ???

Species: Human

 

 

 

 

 

Number Eleven

Position: Black Sun Vigo/Director of Intelligence

Age: ???

Species: Human

 

 

 

 

 

Number Ten

Position: Black Sun Vigo/Director of Extortion

Age: ???

Species: Human

 

 

 

 

 

Number Nine

Position: Black Sun Vigo/Director of Technology and Innovations

Age: ???

Species: Human

 

 

 

 

 

Number Eight

Position: Black Sun Vigo/Field Commander

Age: ???

Species: Human

 

 

 

 

 

Number Seven

Position: Black Sun Vigo/ Director of Governmental Operations

Age: ???

Species: Human

 

 

 

 

 

Number Six

Position: Black Sun Vigo/Field Commander

Age: ???

Species: Human

 

 

 

 

 

Number Five

Position: Black Sun Vigo/Director of Planning

Age: ???

Species: Human

 

 

 

 

 

Number Four

Position: Black Sun Vigo/Director of Finances

Age: ???

Species: Human

 

 

 

 

 

Number Three

Position: Black Sun Vigo/Overseer of Operations (Mid and Outer Rim)

Age: ???

Species: Human

 

 

 

 

 

Number Two

Position: Black Sun Vigo/Overseer of Operations (Core Worlds)

Age: ???

Species: Human

 

 

 

 

 

Number One

Position: Leader of the Black Sun

Age: ???

Species: ???

 

 

 

 

 

???

Position: Number One’s Bodyguard

Age: ???

Species: ???

Edited March 21, 2012 by Guest

[Tiana Calthye]

Nicely played. I honestly think this is some of your best work... you've come a long way.

[DarthBrendo]

Spectacular work. Thoroughly enjoyed reading this, captivating, tension, just the right level of focus on details. Well done.

[Taren]

What? You're gonna try and kill of my signature character?!! Wows... dude.... and i think i recognized one of them costumes for the members as a previous person introduced. am i right?

[Lord Ar-Pharazon]

Nicely played. I honestly think this is some of your best work... you've come a long way.

 

That is, indeed, high praise. I appreciate that very much, Tiana. Writing this section was a blast. However, it was trying too. I wrote a good portion of this at a coffee shop earlier this year, to be handed a computer crash after a good deal of unsaved writing. So, that was a tremendous setback. Having to rewrite many details for all of these characters was a pain, to say the least. Then, my summer really got rolling. So I apologize for the delay. All that aside, I'm pretty happy with how it turned out.

 

Spectacular work. Thoroughly enjoyed reading this, captivating, tension, just the right level of focus on details. Well done.

 

Thank you, B. I appreciate that very much.

 

What? You're gonna try and kill of my signature character?!! Wows... dude.... and i think i recognized one of them costumes for the members as a previous person introduced. am i right?

 

You'll just have to wait and see. Marked for death might not mean a whole lot in a SW universe. Then again, it also might mean a ton.

[Westley]

Oh how you like to tease. Silly Silly.

[jedi_master_gimpy]

Wonderful update, LAP. I have to confess, as it's been so long since your previous updates I wasn't sure I could recall where the rest of the characters stood before starting this chapter. I did a quick skim-read, but this time took a few notes so that I should be prepared for next time around, as well.

 

This post was fantastic. You chose an excellent way to introduce us to Black Sun and it's current minions and activities, through Number Thirteen as she takes it in for the first time as well (at that level, at least). The descriptions were enough to give some character where chosen - but with just the right amount considering the need for anonymity. The consistent wealth and attitude matched what I would expect for Black Sun even if the identities were unknown. I felt like I had quite literally followed Thirteen into the building and the meeting, invisibly hovering over her shoulder and quite glad that it wasn't me physically present!

 

I'm assuming that, introducing them like this, Black Sun will be the major antagonist of the story... or at least the ones helping to bring about the darkness which was foreseen. That said, who knows all the forces behind them... perhaps some Sith?

 

I can't say that I caught the costume clue that Taren mentioned, but I did notice that one Black Sun member had a very distinctive and consistent give/action. I'm wondering if that will be something to watch for outside of this...

 

Oh - I did notice one or two places right near the beginning where you had a few extra commas. In general the commas work well with your writing style and the long, descriptive sentences, but in those places they tended to break up the sentences a bit too much. Just a thought.

[Lord Ar-Pharazon]

Oh how you like to tease. Silly Silly.

 

I do. That's how I roll. Also, regarding these characters, each of them is new. There are no current Jedi characters from the story so far that are somehow hidden here. I do promise that. However, I will say that there could be a connection.

 

Wonderful update, LAP. I have to confess, as it's been so long since your previous updates I wasn't sure I could recall where the rest of the characters stood before starting this chapter. I did a quick skim-read, but this time took a few notes so that I should be prepared for next time around, as well.

 

Wow, taking notes. That's a pretty big deal. I really appreciate such dedication. Such positive feedback really is affirming for a writer.

 

This post was fantastic. You chose an excellent way to introduce us to Black Sun and it's current minions and activities, through Number Thirteen as she takes it in for the first time as well (at that level, at least). The descriptions were enough to give some character where chosen - but with just the right amount considering the need for anonymity. The consistent wealth and attitude matched what I would expect for Black Sun even if the identities were unknown. I felt like I had quite literally followed Thirteen into the building and the meeting, invisibly hovering over her shoulder and quite glad that it wasn't me physically present!

 

Your reaction is 100% in terms of what I wanted the reader to see and gather from this section. Number Thirteen was an exceptionally fun character to write and I was hoping she'd be just as fun to read.

 

I'm assuming that, introducing them like this, Black Sun will be the major antagonist of the story... or at least the ones helping to bring about the darkness which was foreseen. That said, who knows all the forces behind them... perhaps some Sith?

 

I will definitely be increasing the ”œface time”

[Taren]

So, when's the next chapter coming up?

[DarthBrendo]

Good question. I'm waiting for another one, but I know Ben has been crazy busy as well.

[DarthBrendo]

BUMP!

 

We're still waiting Benjamin. *taps foot*

 

[Lord Ar-Pharazon]

BUMP!

 

We're still waiting Benjamin. *taps foot*

 

 

I know. I totally suck. I am going to sit down tonight and make a huge attempt to pump out the next section. Grad school has been busier and as Brendo can testify, I've been busy with a lot of site stuff, especially right now with the pending upgrade.

[Vaderman]

I'm looking forward to start reading all of this as well as the next part

[Jaina Jade Skywalker]

I am going to sit down tonight and make a huge attempt to pump out the next section

 

What does the word tonight mean to you, Ben?

[Lord Ar-Pharazon]

I am going to sit down tonight and make a huge attempt to pump out the next section

 

What does the word tonight mean to you, Ben?

 

It means that I'd sit down and put some time into it, on that night. That doesn't mean that I was able to finish a section, which then would also have to be sent out for a beta process before being posted here.

 

What does tonight mean to you?

 

[Jaina Jade Skywalker]

I could tell you, but it might not be site-appropriate.

 

GET BACK TO WORK!

[Taren]

Yes! Back to work!

[DarthBrendo]

[Taren]

starts chanting: MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE

[DarthBrendo]

Do you plan on continuing this Ben?

[Lord Ar-Pharazon]

Absolutely. Though I am afraid to. If you recall, my computer died a year or so ago, while I was in a coffee shop working on a chapter. My computer died a couple weeks ago, also with a new chapter open. It's almost like fate doesn't want me to write this. So, naturally, I will continue.

[DarthBrendo]

Go for it Ben! Be brave!

[Taren]

you should totally kick it's butt!