One night, he was banging his head on his desk. Wham! Wham! Wham!
He was trying to stay awake, and work on two projects at once. Not only did the lumps on his noggin hurt, but they didn’t keep him awake for very long.
His two projects kept racing in his mind, as he fell asleep. His drool
slithered towards the leftover takeout dinner.
With a start, and an index card stuck to his face next to the impression of a twelve-sided die, he bolted upright. He had it! An idea that will end all ideas.
He began to write...
Kitara woke with a start. There was a banging noise coming from her kitchen. It sounded like someone was ransacking her small cottage. She had been in the middle of a lovely dream, too. She wiped the sleep from her eyes, and carefully crept out of bed to her closet where she kept her sword.
The noise continued as she retrieved her blade. Her long curly hair
fell across her eyes, and she brushed it aside. She saw her reflection
in the mirror, and nodded approvingly at her figure. Many had nicknamed
her “Princess”, thinking she was as pretty as one, and although her past
was a bit cloudy, she was far from being noble.
As quietly as she could, she moved slowly towards the kitchen. She looked in horror and saw it was in a shambles.
Carelessly tossing her belongings all over the place were three figures. One was an old man wearing plain brown robes, and sitting quite comfortably at her table as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on. A wizard, perhaps. The other was a strapping young man, about her age, muscular, and totally hot. She would have though him a Prince if not for the fact that no prince would need to trash her home as such. He looked familiar, though, as if she saw him everyday.
The third figure was the oddest of all. It was a short figure, and it was wearing, of all things, a metal trash can. The trash can squealed a warning, and the lid slammed shut, as if the diminutive figure thought he could hide from her. The others were warned of her presence, however.
“Hold it right there!” The young man whirled around, and dropped a dish,
when he saw her. “Who are you?” she demanded.
“You don’t need our identification.” The old man said, waving his hand slightly. Kitara braced herself for a spell, but nothing happened.
“I don’t need your identification?” she asked incredulously. The man smiled.
“We’re not the ones you’re looking for.” The old man continued.
“You’re not the ones I’m looking for?” She had no clue what he was talking about, or why she seemed to repeat what he was saying.
The old man eyed her sword. “That’s it! That’s what we’re here for!”
Kitara kept the blade level. She didn’t recall where she got the blade, but she sure wasn’t going to turn it over to these oddball characters. The trash can suddenly started to shake violently, as if the person inside were scared. Glancing over at it was Kitara’s mistake.
The old man’s hand lashed out and took the sword away from her by the hilt. The old man looked at the trash can and talked to it soothingly. “It’s okay. She’ll be all right.”
“Who are you?” Kitara finally managed.
“I’m sorry. I’m Fiz-Ben Kenobi. This is my young apprentice, Carmon.” The trash can made another rattling sound. “Oh, and this is R2-Tas2.” The lid on the trash can lifted slightly, and a head popped up. It was a kender! He was short, and had a topknot of hair. He looked like a young child, and yet, looked older.
R2-Tas2 started to make a non-stop series of noises, but Fiz-Ben scolded him. Kitara could see a bit in to the trash can and saw that it was filled with all sorts of odd and ends. Some of it looked like her possessions.
“What do you want?” Kitara asked.
“Safe passage to Alderaan. Me, the boy, and our friend here..” He leaned in a bit towards her. “And no questions asked.”
Safe passage? Suddenly she knew what it was they were after. Or she thought she did. . She had a pet dragon that she would frequently ride. She also offered a smuggling service. And the dragon was fast. It carried the Kessels once.. Took them only 12 parsecs. It was the fastest dragon in the world; he didn’t look like much, but he had it where it counts
“Sorry, I fly solo” she began, but then paused. Curiousity got the bet of her. “You in some sort of trouble?”
“Let’s just say, we’d like to avoid any Imperial entanglements.” Fiz-Ben said.
The Empire! Kitara didn’t like it one bit. The evil Empire was waging
war across the world, its evil coming from the east, and sweeping across
In all this, Carmon just stared at her. She could tell he was falling for her. Fiz-Ben saw this exchange. “I can pay you 2,000 now, and another 18 when we reach our destination.”
Kitara couldn’t believe her ears. These guys must be desperate. And she could use the money; it could really save her skin. Reluctantly, she agreed.
Carmon finally found his tongue. “R2! Where are you?” The trash can and it’s odd occupant came shambling in from her bedroom, and the can seemed to be more full than it was before.
“What about my sword?” Kitara asked.
“It is the weapon of a Solomnic Knight. Not as clumsy or random as a blaster..” he began. A knight’s sword! No wonder they wanted it! “An elegant weapon.” So, she wasn’t allowed to have it. And this old man was a Solomnic Knight? Ha!
Fiz-Ben handed the sword to Carmon, who took a few practice swings with it. The blade flashed a bright blue glow, and it hummed as he twirled it around. Finally, the glow went away. Indeed, it was a magical blade. Kitara regretted not discovering its secret sooner.
“Okay,” she sighed. “Where to?”
“That’s a question,” Fiz-Ben informed her.
Kitara led them out back to meet her pet dragon.
The dragon roared to life as they approached. It, too, had been sleeping late that morning, after a heavy night of partying.
“This,” Kitara introduced her dragon, “is Skiewalker. He’s faster than 1,000 falcons!” She was proud of Skiewalker. “Skie, we’ve got a job!”
Skiewalker was huge, blue, and completely loyal to Kitara. He growled at R2-Tas2 as the kender approached. He addedm “We don’t serve his kind here.”
Kitara knew it was useless to argue with him. “I’m sorry, he’ll have to wait for us here.”
The can started to rattle a protest, but Fiz-Ben put his hand on top of the lid. “Easy, young one. It’s okay.” Fiz-Ben thought for a moment. “Take the boy.”
“No, master!” Carmon protested. “I want to stay with you.”
“You must go. You have a destiny, boy.” Fiz-Ben explained. “I will find
another way to get him to Alderaan. We will meet you there.”
After more protesting, Carmon finally saw the greater good, and decided to go on with his quest without his master. (Actually, Fiz-Ban threatened that he would turn to the “dark side” if he didn’t do as he was told. Carmon never saw the “dark side’, but it scared him. It was quite an effective way to keep the young apprentice in line.)
Katara got on Skiewalker, and helped Carmon on.
“Watch the lance,” she said.
Carmon almost poked himself with the lance that was tied to the side of the saddle. It was a wimpy looking thing, but, the way that Katara gave him a warning told him that it must be important.
Skiewalker’s powerful wings flapped, and hauled the small group in to the air. Soon, the landscape below look very tiny. Kitara always loved to fly solo. It was odd, riding up here with someone else.
“So,” Katara began. “What’s your story?” To pass the time, Carmon told her.
Carmon was on a quest. His father was a Solomnic Knight, like Fiz-Ben, a long time ago. He was in training to become a Knight himself, but he had to pass many tests. Most of them involved doing Fiz-Ben’s laundry, which wasn’t so bad, except for the socks and underwear. And he did Fiz-Ben’s cooking and cleaning.
Carmon had to admit he didn’t see how “wax on, wax off” on the old man’s floors would train him to be a Solomnic Knight, and he sometimes suspected Fiz-Ben was more than he seemed. But he trusted the old coot. Fiz-Ben even promised to take him to see the hobgoblin Yoede, an even older Knight. He would wager anything that Yoede’s socks and underwear were more nasty than Fiz-Ben’s.
He was told that someone had a sword that belonged to his father, and that someone was Kitara. He didn’t mean to make the mess, but he wanted to avenge his father’s death. And evil Solomnic Knight, known as Darth Raist had slain him, and Carmon thought it ironic to slay Darth Raist with his father’s sword.
Kitara had heard of this Darth Raist before. He was the leader of the evil Empire that was sweeping across the land. He always wore black, and had a breathing problem. Darth Raist, lord of the Soth, was indeed a powerful person.
Darth Raist had an army of what he called Sturmtroopers. These evil beings took great delight in causing pain and suffering. What they would do is all wear the same white uniform, which goes against all fashion codes. Not to mention that the bad guys usually wear black. True, Darth Raist wore black, but he was the only one. Bugged the hell out of the populace, but the Sturmtroopers refuse to change their style. (Not nearly as annoying as Jar-Jar Biggs, but that’s another story.)
Some time later, (after a couple of stops. Carmon wasn’t used to flying, despite his bragging about being able to fly a mount by himself.) Kitara and Carmon noticed a large keep with a number of towers. It was huge!
“That’s no keep, that’s a battle station!” Carmon noted. Skiewalker flew right towards one of the towers.
“What are you doing?” Kitara demanded.
Without a word, Skiewalker landed, and picked up what caught his eye. A copy of Dragon Magazine. He began to read the magazine.
“It’s a trap!” Kitara exclaimed. She knew they would be stuck there for hours if they didn’t do something, and quickly.
“How do we get out of this?” Carmon asked.
“Matches. We need to burn the magazine, otherwise he’ll sit here and read it all day!” Kitara led the way down in to the keep, grateful there wasn’t a dragon sized toilet around. If there was, they’d be stuck there for years.
The keep was huge. And there were Sturmtroopers all over the place. Kitara and Carmon hid around a corner, and jumped two guards. They put on the Sturmtrooper uniforms, so they could walk freely.
This plan was scrapped, however, when they discovered the garbage chute. The uniforms might have been useful armor, but, being white outfits, dirt clung to them like metal shavings to a magnet.
While changing out of the uniforms, Carmon peeked over at Kitara’s body. He nearly dropped a lung. She was so beautiful. He moved over to her, and gave her a warm, gentle kiss. With tongue, even!
But their love moment didn’t last long as they heard Sturmtroopers heading in their direction.
“Wait!” Kitara said as they were running down a long corridor. “I found a torch! We can use this!” Grabbing the torch, they headed back to Skiewalker.
When they got there, Skiewalker was nowhere to be seen. But they did notice the man in black that stood before them. The man was having trouble breathing. He had a deep, booming voice, and on the whole, looked pretty scary.
Carmon held Kitara back as he drew his sword and activated the glow.
This was the moment he had waited a whole page for. He was going to have
revenge at last. He charged the old Solomnic Knight.
But Darth Raist also had a sword. It glowed a bright red. Their swords met in a shower of sparks and special effects. They danced around each other, taking turns jabbing and swinging. Carmon held his own, but he knew that Darth Raist had more experience.
They met again and again, swords twirling and glowing. Kitara stayed out of the way and just watched.
The man in black continued to breathe heavily, but didn’t seem like he was winded. In an omninous tone, he said, “Fiz-Ben never told you what happened to your father.”
“He told me enough!” Carmon yelled back. “He told me YOU killed him.”
“No,” Darth Raist breathed heavily. There was a pause. A long pause. The type of pause that makes you pause and wonder why the pause was so long. It was too awkward, so Darth Raist broke the silence. “Actually, yes. I did kill him. But that’s beside the point.”
Carmon gnashed his teeth.
Darth Raist continued: “You have strong feelings for him. And for your—” He paused, and turned towards Katara. “Sister! You have a twin half sister!”
Horror gripped Carmon’s heart in its icy fist, and clenched tightly. Katara was also stunned, and began to lose color from her face.
“No! It’s not true! That’s impossible!” Carmon cried.
“Search your feelings! You know it to be true!” Darth Raist demanded,
and stood there coldly, thoroughly enjoying the drama being played out
in front of him. This was better than those TV soap operas or a really
good episode of the Jerry Springer Show.
Kitara and Carmon turned to each other, and looked in to each other’s eyes. The saw similar images to the ones they looked at every morning in the mirror. They looked and saw themselves. It was true!
Carmon gagged, turned and started to spit multiple times. Kitara screamed and wiped her tongue with the back of her hand. “Ewww! Yuck!” “Bleah!” “No way!” “Gross!” “I was making out with my twin half brother!” “Cough, cough!” “Gah! I’m going to be sick!”
Both felt the strong need to brush their teeth at that moment, but they knew they weren’t out of danger yet.
If any friends of either of them heard of this, it would be the end of their social lives, forever.
“You are beaten!” Darth Raist exclaimed.
Kitara looked up and saw Skiewalker swooping towards her. In a flash, she jumped up and took hold. She climbed to his back, the wind rushing by her; flowing through her hair. She would have to circle around and pick up her twin half brother.
Then a voice boomed to her left: “Red five, standing by!”
She looked and saw a large red dragon heading towards her.
Finally in her saddle, she was able to unhook the lance, and brought it around. The red dragon let loose a fireball of death and hot pain and suffering. Skiewalker dodged at the last second, and she felt the heat from the flames lick the side of her body. She maneuvered Skiewalker around to attack.
A loud explosion could be heard, as Skiewalker let loose his thunderbolt breath. Kitara was used to the bright flashes, but her opponent wasn’t. The red dragon crashed to the ground.
Looking up, she saw that the battle was joined by a number of other dragons. A full scale war had broken out all around them! Grabbing the reigns, Kitara held on tight, and joined the fray, hoping that her twin half brother was okay.
The battle was vicious. Dragons screamed as they fell to their deaths. And some of the smarter ones rolled over and landed on their backs, the riders providing cushioning. Kitara wondered where everyone had come from. It seemed they had the misfortune of stumbling on a war.
Kitara looked behind her and saw a large red dragon take up position right behind Skiewalker. She urged her dragon to fly low in to some alleys, so they could lose it. Flying left and right, she managed to avoid the fireball that the red dragon sent her way.
“I can’t shake him,” she muttered to herself. She directed Skiewalker to fly low and fast. She closed her eyes briefly and concentrated... there was something up ahead... Steady... steady.... NOW!
She jerked on the reigns and Skiewalker pulled up just as the red dragon
let loose another fireball.
The fireball exploded right on target—not the target the red dragon had wanted, but the one Kitara had foreseen, and there was a huge explosion as the room where the Sturmtoopers kept all the oil was blasted to oblivion. The whole keep rocked as explosion after explosion began to spread the fire like, well, wildfire.
The red dragon that had been chasing them slammed in to the wall, and got hot, burning oil all over its body. It screamed in pain.
Carmon almost lost his balance, but he was to be a Solomnic Knight. He did a few flips, and ended up standing on his two feet.
“Impressive.” Darth Raist commented.
“Yeah, well I’m full of surprises!” He flipped head over heels over Darth Raist’s head, and swung his foot out. It caught Darth Raist by surprise all right. It knocked Darth Raist flat on his butt.
Darth Raist snarled, and then, pointed to a barrel that was nearby. The barrel flew through the air and smacked Carmon upside the head. He did this trick a number of times, wearing out Carmon.
A lone figure stood bravely against the flight of the dragons. He stood on the tower, alone. One man against a big blue dragon. One man that may be a hero to his people. One man that might get a medal from the Dark Lord of the Soth himself. A man that would inspire the Sturmtroopers for the rest of time. A man who’s death would immortalize him forever. A man that had but one thought, on that bright, cold morning.
“Aw, geeze! I have to pee, and this uniform is a pain to get out of.” While the codpiece did protect him, it didn’t have a zipper. Being a Sturmtrooper had some disadvantages.
He turned to face a charging dragon. His need to pee disappeared, and he noted a puddle under his feet.
Skiewalker swooped down, and Kitara thrust the lance forward, cutting right in to the armor of the Strumtrooper.
“Ugh” the Sturmtrooper grunted. “I’ve been dragonlanced!” With that, he pitched forward, and crashed on the ground.
Down below, two figures clashed swords. One glowing red, the other blue. One was new at this, the other well experienced. Each man circled the other. Darth Raist was breathing hard, as usual. Carmon would have recommended a good cleric to heal that problem, but Darth Raist was the enemy.
Carmon pressed his attack, only to be pushed back time and again. Blades clashed, the glow of red and blue slicing through the air in wide arcs. Sparks flew everywhere, but were barely seen due to the flames that surrounded them.
“It is useless to resist. Join me, and we can rule it all together.” Darth Raist offered.
Not after putting that image of him and his twin half sister in his mind about what they did. “Never!” he spat.
Another explosion rocked the keep. The place was being destroyed from the inside. Carmon braced for one final assault. It looked like he and Darth Raist were going to die on this wall today.
Suddenly, out of the wall of flames, a Sturmtrooper came running wildly towards them. He crashed right in to Darth Raist, knocking him off the wall. Darth Raist was gone.
What made Carmon mad was that he wasn’t the one that killed Darth Raist. He hadn’t extracted revenge at all. It was so unfair!
The wall below his feet cracked. He was going to die now. He accepted that. Perhaps, if he’s lucky, he’ll be more powerful than he could possibly imagine. Although, he could imagine quite a lot of power.
A hand reached down and grabbed him, hauling him up in to the air. From a higher altitude, he could see the entire keep blow up underneath him. Kitara pulled him up in to the saddle. “We have a lot to talk about.” Kitara said as the flew off in to the sunset, towards Alderaan.
Darth Raist stood looking at the sunset. He had survived his fall. He was, after all, a villain. A small figure in green armor approached, upon being summoned. The armor was dented and scratched, as much from bumping in to things as combat. The figure adjusted the green helmet, to see better.
Bupu Fett was the most feared bounty hunter in the galaxy. She was also the shortest. But that didn’t stop her.
She joined up with the Evil Empire because the pay was good, there was fantastic medical coverage (you could get hand replacements as many times as you needed), and mostly because she liked smashing people’s kneecaps (The only area she could really reach). Which is what she excelled at.
“Bupu Fett. I want you to find them.” He breathed heavily. Bupu Fett pulled out a dead rat. “I want them alive. No disintegration!” he waved his finger at her.
Bupu Fett lifted the dead rat high above her head, and then slammed it back to the ground angrily. She then kicked it away. “What you say.?!”
After an awkward silence, Darth Raist had a slight change of heart. “Okay, you may kneecaps of the female. But I need the male intact.”
Bupu Fett nodded eagerly.
Darth Raist had many plans to make, and that Carmon would come in handy in the days to come. “He will be turned, and become one of us. He will join us or die.”
With that, he turned to watch the sunset.