the dude person
Super Freak
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I didn't think this belonged in the regular Star Wars section, seemed like it belonged here, in the custom section... it is, after all, a "custom star wars" story!
Anyway, writing has been one of my many hobbies for several years. I decided to try my hand at writing a SW fan fiction, so I wrote a little piece of it today. Well, here it is:
____Kyrr Geron sat down on the old bar stool farthest away from the door he had just come in through. He was a man of about 35 with short black hair who obviously hadn’t shaved his face in a week or two. The clothes he wore were unassuming, and blended in well; they wouldn't make him stand out in a crowd. He could have passed for a regular at this particular bar, but it was his first time there. He was always on the move, making sure no one could get to know him too closely, or recognize him if he needed to disappear.
____The smoke in the bar was so thick, he had no idea how big it really was; he couldn’t see the back wall from where he was sitting. There were lights hanging down over the bar so that it was clearly visible, but it was hard to see much else. There were a few dim lamps at several tables a few yards away, but they only showed the silhouettes of bar-goers of various races through the dense fog. There was a repugnant stench in the air, mingled with a strong odor that could be likened to old urine. What a musty hole in the wall, he thought.I guess it’s decent by underlevel standards.
____He looked around, noticing a couple Rodians standing by the bar that were so intoxicated that they constantly staggered around, laughing, and talked to people that apparently got very annoyed after their encounters with the drunkards. With the tinny music blasting over low-grade speakers in the ceiling, Kyrr couldn’t make out what they were saying, but judging by the dirty looks of the people they talked to, he guessed that they weren’t being at all polite. One of them hobbled over to his seat at the bar as he was about to order a drink, and put his arm around his shoulder.
____“Kavaa yo no moolee-rah?”
____Can I have some money?
____Kyrr was disgusted. He wanted nothing to do with the olive-green scumbag, and decided to politely refuse the Rodian’s request.
____“Nobata, ji hagwa yo ashka. Bolla bata ta pateesa.”
____No, I don’t have very much. Go back over to your friends.
____The Rodian doubled over laughing, then fell over and continued to laugh on the floor. Kyrr turned back to the bar. The grey-skinned Twi’Lek bartender came over to him and spoke to him in a raspy and barely audible voice, “Pick your poison.”
____“I’ll take a tall glass of the Arala.”
____The bartender walked away to get a glass.
____Kyrr was fond of Arala beer. It was cheap, watery, commonplace, and had a nasty aftertaste, but for some reason he found it to be his favorite. It brought back memories of when he first started drinking it, when he was in his prime. When he drank it, wherever he was, he was home.
____Just as the pale Twi’Lek slid his drink down the bar to him, Kyrr felt someone tap his shoulder, so he turned around. It was the Rodian again.
____“Kee baatu baatu sleemo.”
____You bother me slimeball
____Kyrr sighed. He didn’t take his armor with him any more; it’d get him spotted way too easily. He still carried his blaster pistol though. He was sick of this guy, and since asking him nicely didn’t work, he was done being nice.
____There were three flashes of red light in quick succession, and by the time the light had faded, the Rodian lay dead on the floor with a smoking hole in his chest. The other two Rodians saw what happened and burst out in laughter, which slowly faded as they sunk to the floor and passed out, probably from lack of oxygen and intoxication. Everyone else in the bar was entirely nonplussed, and most never even glanced in the direction of the incident. People in the underlevels tended to mind their own business.
____Kyrr put his blaster back in its holster on his hip, turned back to the bar for the second time and downed his beverage in a single gulp. He tossed a credit chip onto the bar and got up to leave. He looked at the fried Rodian lying there on the floor, a drunken smile still on his lips.
____What a di’kut.
____He stepped over the body, walked over to the door and stepped out into the cool night of Coruscant.
Tell me what you guys think! If you like it, I might write short bits of Kyrr Geron's story from time to time and post em here, sort of like TV episodes except in book form...
So guys, do you like it? If this were in a book do you think you would buy said book? (hypothetically speaking of course, if I ever do try to write a legit book to be published and sold, I'd write something I wouldn't have to put past George Lucas and then pay him for licensing... )
Anyway, writing has been one of my many hobbies for several years. I decided to try my hand at writing a SW fan fiction, so I wrote a little piece of it today. Well, here it is:
____Kyrr Geron sat down on the old bar stool farthest away from the door he had just come in through. He was a man of about 35 with short black hair who obviously hadn’t shaved his face in a week or two. The clothes he wore were unassuming, and blended in well; they wouldn't make him stand out in a crowd. He could have passed for a regular at this particular bar, but it was his first time there. He was always on the move, making sure no one could get to know him too closely, or recognize him if he needed to disappear.
____The smoke in the bar was so thick, he had no idea how big it really was; he couldn’t see the back wall from where he was sitting. There were lights hanging down over the bar so that it was clearly visible, but it was hard to see much else. There were a few dim lamps at several tables a few yards away, but they only showed the silhouettes of bar-goers of various races through the dense fog. There was a repugnant stench in the air, mingled with a strong odor that could be likened to old urine. What a musty hole in the wall, he thought.I guess it’s decent by underlevel standards.
____He looked around, noticing a couple Rodians standing by the bar that were so intoxicated that they constantly staggered around, laughing, and talked to people that apparently got very annoyed after their encounters with the drunkards. With the tinny music blasting over low-grade speakers in the ceiling, Kyrr couldn’t make out what they were saying, but judging by the dirty looks of the people they talked to, he guessed that they weren’t being at all polite. One of them hobbled over to his seat at the bar as he was about to order a drink, and put his arm around his shoulder.
____“Kavaa yo no moolee-rah?”
____Can I have some money?
____Kyrr was disgusted. He wanted nothing to do with the olive-green scumbag, and decided to politely refuse the Rodian’s request.
____“Nobata, ji hagwa yo ashka. Bolla bata ta pateesa.”
____No, I don’t have very much. Go back over to your friends.
____The Rodian doubled over laughing, then fell over and continued to laugh on the floor. Kyrr turned back to the bar. The grey-skinned Twi’Lek bartender came over to him and spoke to him in a raspy and barely audible voice, “Pick your poison.”
____“I’ll take a tall glass of the Arala.”
____The bartender walked away to get a glass.
____Kyrr was fond of Arala beer. It was cheap, watery, commonplace, and had a nasty aftertaste, but for some reason he found it to be his favorite. It brought back memories of when he first started drinking it, when he was in his prime. When he drank it, wherever he was, he was home.
____Just as the pale Twi’Lek slid his drink down the bar to him, Kyrr felt someone tap his shoulder, so he turned around. It was the Rodian again.
____“Kee baatu baatu sleemo.”
____You bother me slimeball
____Kyrr sighed. He didn’t take his armor with him any more; it’d get him spotted way too easily. He still carried his blaster pistol though. He was sick of this guy, and since asking him nicely didn’t work, he was done being nice.
____There were three flashes of red light in quick succession, and by the time the light had faded, the Rodian lay dead on the floor with a smoking hole in his chest. The other two Rodians saw what happened and burst out in laughter, which slowly faded as they sunk to the floor and passed out, probably from lack of oxygen and intoxication. Everyone else in the bar was entirely nonplussed, and most never even glanced in the direction of the incident. People in the underlevels tended to mind their own business.
____Kyrr put his blaster back in its holster on his hip, turned back to the bar for the second time and downed his beverage in a single gulp. He tossed a credit chip onto the bar and got up to leave. He looked at the fried Rodian lying there on the floor, a drunken smile still on his lips.
____What a di’kut.
____He stepped over the body, walked over to the door and stepped out into the cool night of Coruscant.
NEXT CHAPTER ->
Tell me what you guys think! If you like it, I might write short bits of Kyrr Geron's story from time to time and post em here, sort of like TV episodes except in book form...
So guys, do you like it? If this were in a book do you think you would buy said book? (hypothetically speaking of course, if I ever do try to write a legit book to be published and sold, I'd write something I wouldn't have to put past George Lucas and then pay him for licensing... )
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