((I declare this RPG officially open! *cuts big red ribbon with giant scissors* Sorry for delaying. ))

Gabriel Watson clapped his hands together.

"Alright then. Well, I suppose we'll get on chat tomarrow to work out chapter 14." Pushing his glasses to meet the bridge of his nose, he sighed and looked at the very complex chart before him. Their fanfiction was going great so far, but they had hit a large writer's block. He supposed that their OCs would eventually end up saving the captured jedi, but... It just seemed too unlogical. Oh well. they'd figure that out later.

Bidding his friends goodbye, Gabriel shut his front door behind them. Picking up his laptop up off the floor, he noted that it was in desperate need of charging. Taking the thin black object into his room and hooking it up to the charger by his desk, he fell back on his bed. Why in the world was he so tired? He never got this tired this early in the evening. Looking over at his shrine of Star Wars action figures, he wondered if Jedi ever got this tired.

True, his room may be decorated by Star Wars posters, Star Wars action figures, all of the special edition movies, and every single Star Wars book ever published, not to mention the miscelanious Star Wars knick-knacks here and there, but really, he was just your normal guy. At school he was generally known as a geeky guy who missed a growth spurt, but he chose to ignore them, however painful their insults were.

A Jedi accepts pain. He does not let it control him, rather he controls it. he had to remind himself that over and over again. He did not live in a complete Jedi worldview, but he did value some of their greatest points.

Sighing, Gabriel decided he couldn't take it any longer. He needed sleep. Why was he so tired? Oh well. That could wait with his homework until later...

--------------------------------------------------------------

Opening his eyelids of lead, Gabriel groaned. It was light outside. That meant day. That meant he wouldn't have time to do his homework. Great. He had only turned in his work late once before in his high-school years. Having another mark on his 'teacher's pet' record would earn more teasing from other students.

But as his eyes lost their blurriness, he realized that he wasn't in his bed. He was in a foriegn, thin mattress. Where was he? Standing up, Gabriel made another startling discovery. He was about eight, no, nine inches taller. This was weird.

((Sorry to end so abruptly, but mom is making my go to bed.))

_________________
You may (or may not) know me elsewhere as Elfpen

The short drive home was fairly uneventful for Lynne. As it was already getting late, there was hardly anyone still out, meaning she only received two or three odd looks for blasting the Star Wars Gangsta Rap at full volume with her windows rolled down. Ordinarily, she probably would have been singing along as well (eliciting even more looks), but instead she spent the short trip in pensive silence, mulling over the night's brainstorming session. They were at an impasse; that much was certain. Lynne was beginning to think that they might have made their evil triad a little too powerful, but, of course, that was half the fun. Pulling into the driveway, she sighed resignedly and determined to consider the matter further tomorrow in Chemistry class.

Half an hour later, Lynne had let herself in quietly, gotten ready for bed, and flopped down onto her bed exhaustedly. Determining that the Pre-Cal questions could wait until morning, Lynne closed her eyes and surrendered herself to sleep.
____________________________________________________________________________________________

Lynne awoke some time later to discover that, not only was her room still pitch black, but that her back ached from sleeping on a hard object of indiscernable shape. Sleepily, she absently reached under her to remove the offending object, when suddenly a bolt of red light shot across the room and struck the wall opposite her. Very much awake now, Lynne fell off of the bed with a loud thud and didn't move for a few seconds. "Stang," she muttered, slowly picking herself up off the ground, only to pause as she realized that the room wasn't quite as dark as she'd thought. Over on the far side of the room, a strange reddish glow framed what she presumed to be a window. It wasn't much light, but it was enough to confirm one thing: this wasn't her room. Jumping to her feet, Lynne hurriedly stumbled over to the window and fumbled with a control pannel next to it until whatever was covering it retreated back into the ceiling.

"No. Kriffing. Way."

Before her -or rather, before her, above her, under her, and to every side of her- speeders sped by, glowing signs written in Basic (she'd made it her business to be able to read it) flickered on and off, and thousands of pedestrians from hundreds of species strolled about on various platforms and walkways. Stunned and speechless, Lynne hurried over to the door and pressed a button on the control pannel. The door slid open to reveal a shabby-looking hallway lined with identical doors and an angry-looking male Besalisk already making his way toward hers. "Viet!"

Panicking, Lynne quickly shut the door again and leaned against it, breathing heavily. Seconds later, it slid open again to reveal the aforementioned Besalisk staring down at her, looking not at all amused. "Rent, Viet. Yer a month late already."

"I-I..."

"Do I look like I'm here ta listen to yer karking excuses, Viet?" he cut her off. "Had enough o' those last month. Pay up, or get out. I've got payin' customers who could put this room to better use than you anyhow."

Judging by the state of the halls and the room she was currently in, Lynne somehow doubted that, but that hardly seemed like a wise statement to make at the moment. "I'll..." Was she seriously actually talking to the creature? "I'll have it in the morning?"

The Besalisk eyed her narrowly, then nodded grudgingly, seeming to at least accept this offer. "See that you do," he said shortly, turning to go. "Oh, an' drop th' 'wide-eyed an' innocent' act, Viet. Doesn' suit you."

The door slid shut again, leaving Lynne to stare blankly at it for a few seconds as her brain processed this latest encounter. That did not just happen, she thought numbly. That so did not- Viet? It suddenly occured to her that the Besalisk had called her that several times in the course of the conversation. But that wasn't right. Unless...

Her expression one of pure dread, Lynne rushed over to the appartment's small refresher and found a light switch. The small chromium mirror hanging over the sink showed a face, but not hers. Oh, it was similar enough in features, aside from having a slightly leaner, hardened look, and the skin tone was still decidedly pale, but there the similarities ended. Her hair, chopped short about an inch above the shoulders, was a dark red colour, and her eyes were blue instead of green. She also noted that she had to be at least a few inches taller, though she really had no way of measuring that. For the first time, she noticed that she was wearing a tunic, leggings, and a cortosis-weave vest, and that a few pieces of armor were sitting in one of the cluttered corners. What disturbed her most, though, was that despite not being her own face, she actually knew this face, at least in theory. It was a face she had envisioned many times before.

It was Ailyn Viet's.

((Ok, this will be a continuation to my last post.))

Looking around, Gabriel soon realized that there were various hallways leading off in several directions. Curious, he followed them, and soon came to a large, expansive room with several crafts in them. They looked like airplanes, but, somehow, they didn't.

Circling around one of the abandoned machines, he soon stopped when he could view the front. No way. There was no way that that could be an Arc 170 Fighter. It was simply impossible!

Wasn't it?

"What in this good green world is going on?" Gabriel stared, openly gaping at this amazing piece of war craft machinery. Suddenly, a booming voice came raging over the intercom system in the corner of the room, blaring some code of numbers and names that he couldn't understand.

"Cleod! Cleod, what are you doin' here? You're 'posed to be gettin' ready to fly, you big helium-filled wanderer!" Gabriel stared at the large man for a moment. He was wearing clothing typical to the inhabitance of Coruscant, as seen in episode-

"Hello?! You there?" The man looked very impatient. Gabriel tried to remember what he had said,

"Wait... You talking to me?"

"What are you, deaf and dumb, you empty headed lag! Get to your station, boy!" With that the huge man proceded to shove him out of the large hanger, not knowing just how confused the young pilot now was.

Wait, what had he called him? Cleod? Wait... Jezir Cleod... Was this some kind of way-to-realistic joke? Or was he somehow stuck in his OC's body on Coruscant? This was too weird...

Next thing he knew, Gabriel was lost. Again. How many turns can one place have, anyway? Seeing a thick metal door at the end of the hall, he counted what he had to lose, and opened the door. Once on the outside, it was another time to go wide-eyed.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." Staring at the street infront of him in wonder, he briefly noticed how close a speeder came to pommeling him.

"Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore." He said, talking to no one in particular.

_________________
You may (or may not) know me elsewhere as Elfpen

[just so you guys know, I changed my OC to a male.]

There was no way they were ever going to end this fanfiction, there was absolutely no way. Not like he hadn’t warned Gabriel and Lynne that a trio of villains was a bad idea, in fact, it was a downright insane idea. And though they had spent the whole wretched night brainstorming, it was going to take something more than gnawed pencil tips and random dialogue to get this thing finished.

With these pessimistic thoughts close to heart, Josh took the stairs to his bedroom two at a time. Strewn across his unmade bed was Star Wars notes and charts that he had ‘borrowed’ from his friends; he never could seem to write them himself. Flopping down on his bed, he pushed them to the floor and closed his heavy eyes.

If only they hadn’t put in three villains...

------------------------------------------------------------

Sun. Bright, glaring, disturbing sun. Joshua rolled over, and groaned miserably, trying to block out the light. It couldn’t possibly be morning already.

A small beeping noise came from somewhere beside his bed. He reached out a disoriented hand to slap that stupid alarm clock; but his hand struck something else. Something definitely much bigger, and metal.

Groggily he opened on eye, and peered at it. Immediately his brain began flashing warning signals.

“A droid? What the heck is a droid doing beside my bed!?”

Only it wasn’t his bed, it was a hard, thin little mattress in an oddly decorated room.

“Good morning sir,” the Administrative Droid said pleasantly, in a monotonous voice. “I trust you slept well. Today will be busy. You will meet with the Senator as soon as you’re ready.”

Josh stared blankly at the droid talking to him. No. This sort of thing didn’t happen. He was having another one of those weird dreams caused by too much brainstorming. Now, completely aware of what was going on, he leapt out of bed to the nearest window.

This was not downtown Alderville. This was friggin’ Star Wars! Staggering a step back, he caught site of something else, his reflection. Only, it wasn’t his reflection.

“I’m Whit Nkael!!!!!” he screamed to the droid.

“Of course you are master. And not to disrupt you, but we really must go. You have slept a long time.”

The wheel’s in Joshua’s head where about grind themselves to dust. Mechanically, he took the robes that the droid handed him and stared at them before slipping them on. Deep blue, with black lining; his sister had designed them. They felt heavy on his skin, something utterly foreign besides jeans and tshirts. The unusual color even scratched a bit, just like he always thought it would.

This was one heck of a realistic-feeling dream.

_________________
<center>
"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

((Lol, love it, PotR and FM! Both intros are awsome! Oh, and sorry to do this AGAIN, but I'm changing the Padawan's ages again, if you don't mind. Just go down one year. (ie Obi is 16 not 17 ))

Obi-Wan Kenobi woke calmly, taking a good, deep breath and a nice streach. He got out of bed quickly, and then slid a shirt over his bare chest. Yes, he was a morning person, but many jedi were. Especially his master. In fact, he would bet anything that he got it from Qui-Gon.

Though the sun hadn't yet risen, Obi-Wan was starting his morning routine none the less. Biding his master goodmorning as he passed him, Obi-Wan headed to the small kitchen and his ever-loved box of cereal. There was only one kind that he ate, and however many told him that it was disgustingly 'healthy', this cereal, he loved it.

Now that he thought of it, he probably got that from Qui-Gon too.

After swallowing a spoonful of his breakfast, Obi-Wan turned to his master, who was sitting across the room, obviously looking over a data pad.

"Does the council have us going on another mission anytime soon, Master?"

((If you didn't guess, I made up the whole cereal thing. And I assumed (being a jedi) that he would be a morning person.))

_________________
You may (or may not) know me elsewhere as Elfpen

Lynne numbly sat down on the edge of the bed and remained there for who-knows-how-long, simply staring at the dirty wall opposite her. She had to be dreaming. That was the only logical explanation. I mean, I've had some pretty crazy dreams before, right? And after having thought so hard about Star Wars that night, she supposed it was only natural that she was having a long, vivid, freakishly realistic dream....Yeah. That had to be it. She'd just lie back down, go back to sleep, and have a good laugh over it with the guys in the morning.

Fifteen minutes later, Lynne cautiously opened her eyes and looked around. "Stang," she repeated under her breath, seeing that the room still hadn't changed at all. She slowly sat back up and rubbed her eyes wearily. Suddenly, an idea came to her. After searching the room for several minutes --was Ailyn really this unorganized?-- Lynne found what she was looking for on a small table next to the bed: a comlink. She eagerly picked it up, only to realize that she didn't know any frequencies. Another quick search produced a well-worn datapad that looked promising. Lynne quickly went through the files (at least Ailyn seemed to keep her datapad organized) until she found what she was looking for: Jezir Cleod. Struggling to recall the diagram of a comlink she'd seen a while ago in one of her books, she hurriedly entered the frequency listed under Jezir's name and waited for it to connect. "Come on..." she muttered anxiously. "Answer..."

Gabriel, or should it be Jezir, was undoubtedly startled when his pocket started buzzing. Digging around in said pocket, which he didn't know he had until know, he was only slightly surprised to find a comlink. By the look on his face, one wouldn't need to point out that he was scared to answer it.

"Darn it!" He shook the small object nervously, looking around, thinking of what to do. Then he saw that big man again. Well, he had to occupy himself somehow before he got onto him again. Might as well.

"H-Hello?" He greeted, not reading the caller ID.

_________________
You may (or may not) know me elsewhere as Elfpen

Smiling at his young padawen, Qui Gon looked up from his datapad.

"We do, in fact, have a mission today; though it is fairly routine. A series of speed bike thefts had been occuring in the lower levels; not anything terribly mysterious, but the council would have us look into it as soon as possible." Qui Gon smiled ever so slightly, and added, "Soon being defined by the moment you finish your beloved breakfast."

Casually he stood up and strolled over to the window. He hadn't confided in his padawen though, that somehow he sensed this mission was more than what it appeared on the surface.


-----------------------------------------------------------

Still finding it hard to adjust to being called 'Whit', Josh stared distractedly at the window.

"Whit? Whit Nkael? Whit, are you even listening to me?" The Senator was getting impatient with his absent-minded Aide. "You seem to have left your datapad in your rooms. How many times have I told you to bring your datapad with you when we meet?"

Joshua finally looked up and shrugged. This was not his idea of a good dream...

"You will be working with the Jedi today; Master Fisto and his young padawen. They will meet you here within the next hour, and you will accompany them where they choose. For all our sakes Whit, please try to keep your thoughts collected?

Joshua nodded at the Senator, biting his lip in thought. These Jedi expected him to help them, just as the fan fiction had gone. He was living out the fanfiction, in another person's body. Fantastic. Simply splendid.

"If I may," he finally summoned the courage to ask, "May I return to my rooms and get my datapad?"

After receiving an affirming nod, he jumped up eager, trying to remember the way back to his room. Once he had the datapad - he had a key into who this 'Whit' really was.

_________________
<center>
"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

Obi-Wan nearly choked on his breakfast.

"Wait... The council is sending us on a routine mission? Has that ever happened before?"

_________________
You may (or may not) know me elsewhere as Elfpen

Lynne jumped slightly as a voice -she assumed it was Jezir's- came through the comlink. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself. "IsyournameGabrielWatson?" she blurted out, wincing slightly and waiting for a reply. She wasn't quite sure what she was hoping to hear, either. If the answer was 'no,' then she'd have a very interesting time explaining herself, unless she ended the transmission before the subject could be pursued further. But if the answer was 'yes,' then that would mean that she might have to admit that there was more to this than a crazy dream. Either way, this was not looking like a very promising day already.

Gabriel stood still for a second, tying to interpret the jumble of words that had been spoken. Once he saw his 'boss' walking faster towards him, he made an effort to do so more quickly. But once he did make sense of the sentece, he was estatic. Not to mention surprised. Going off into a corner, so that no one else could hear him, Jezir left his boss behind, no doubt shouting rude remarks as he left.

"Yes! How did you-Wait, who is this?"

_________________
You may (or may not) know me elsewhere as Elfpen

Lynne let out the breath she hadn't been aware she was holding. "Thank the Force I'm not the only one going insane," she said, her tone one of genuine relief. "Gabriel, it's Lynne. There seems to have been a..." She trailed off, searching for the right word. "Where are you?"

Gabriel was shocked, yet relieved. And terrified.

"W-You're Lynne? Hmm. You don't sound like her." he shook his head. She had asked him a question. "Nevermind. I'm... Well, I don't exactly know where I am. I'm at a very large, confusing, and slightly impressive piloting complex. I got stuck in the hanger this morning. And get this- I got to see a real Arc 170 Fighter!" Only did Gabriel think this over after he said it. He probably sounded like a weird 10-year-old geek.

"Anyway, where are you? It would be really nice to talk this whole freak show over in person."

_________________
You may (or may not) know me elsewhere as Elfpen

"My thoughts exactly," Lynne agreed, going back over to the large window and inspecting her surroundings more closely. "I'd say I'm somewhere in the lower levels of the city, judging by the fact that I can't see the sky. Can you find a sign or anything near you that might say where you are? I have a feeling it'll be easier for me to find you than the other way around."

Gabriel sighed, looking around.

"Alright, well, let me see..." He tried to find a logo somewhere of the piloting complex surrounding him. Disappointed by bare walls and no signs, Gabriel sighed again.

"Well, I can't see anything... Wait... Hold on a sec, Lynne." Gabriel suddenly remembered the fact that he was Jezir. Jezir worked here, and thus, he must have an ID file.

Already being an accomplished computer geek, Gabriel had no trouble deciphering the data-pad that he had found in his room earlier. Pushing a few buttons here and there, he soon found what he was looking for- the name of the company.

"Well, I don't know how much this will help," he spoke into his comlink, "But I'm at the A.W.S. Piloting Base. I don't see many signs around, but... If I can just- Ah! A map, hold on one second... It's at the corner of Hendroks and Norzmott. Can you find that?"

((Lol, all those names are completely made up. I love making up names! (btw, AWS stands for Aerospace Weapons and Ships... It was a quick composition, at most.)))

_________________
You may (or may not) know me elsewhere as Elfpen

------------------------------------------------------------

Qui Gon had to smile at this.

“I suppose you are right my young padawen,” he said, “We haven’t exactly been a good example of methodically executed routine missions. I believe that we may run into more than your ordinary thief on the lower levels, but it is just an idea.”

Briefly glancing back down at his datapad, he laughed quietly. Obi Wan was never one to be fooled, much too bright for that.



One. Two. Three. Four.

Bant quietly counted under her breath, an uncertain pause after every number. Her slender hand tremored involuntarily, and her large eyes were glazed with uncertainty.

Five. Six. Seven...

The counting slowed to an irregular stop: Bant took a breath and relaxed. It was over. The need was over.

When one of fellow padawen’s had told her of counting when the need to vent emotion came over her; she had thought it a load of junk, and no less. But it actually helped; and rather than worry her new master with inexpressible feelings, she could list her reasons to cry, number them, forget them, and be done with it.

“Is everything alright?” Kit Fisto asked with some concern in his voice. The troubled expression that came over Bant sometimes worried him; especially since it was so recent since Tahl’s death. He knew all too well how much she had loved her.

Rising slowly to her feet, Bant gazed more steadily in Kit’s direction. “Yes master,” she said, making a poor attempt at being cheerful, “We are going to meet the Senatorial Aide today, are we not?”

Although Kit was still bothered by her absent staring, he merely nodded, and smiled genuinely in return.

“We are; I’ve arranged for us to have breakfast with him. We can discuss the day’s mission quietly before our research begins.” For just a moment he paused and turned away, before adding quietly, “Are you sure you are alright?”

Still feigning a smile, Bant nodded, and mentally added Eight.

_________________
<center>
"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."