Star Wars Versus StoryTime!

Alllllllll Right!!!!!!!!!!!! Here comes the big one. It is broken into parts for more easy readabilty. Here is PART 1, 2, and 3.

Ohhh, and I didn't write this one so don't get mad at me if you don't like it.

The Mask of Maul

PART 1:

Khameir, however, has been feeling the callings of the dark side, and a Zabrak cult, promising to train him as a sith lord, claims that they seek him to be their leader. Relying on dark side magicks, they foresee that he will sire their long-awaited destroyer. However, Palpatine, who has had his eye on the boy since he was twelve, intercedes, and later demands that Khameir prove his devotion to the dark side by slaying the last shreds of light in his soul. The result is Darth Maul, the cold, compassionless sith lord who destroys all who stand in his path remorselessly.

PART 2:

Regret. He never wasted time on regret. It was a useless thing. It made him soft, weak,
vulnerable. There was no place for that in him. His heart had long since shriveled up into a cold
lump of shrapnel, ready to tear at anything that dared make its way too close. His insides were
stone, his outsides were living fear, a mask of terror that raked over everything in its path,
stripping it bare, destroying it, sometimes for the pleasure of the task, sometimes out of
necessity. There would be no tendril of compassion to dare snake its way inside him. Not even
when he saw her face. He vowed it upon all the blood of the sith, blood shed by the Jedi, blood
shed because of all the hypocrisy in this galaxy. At least he would not be a hypocrite.
Master Sidious had sent him here, on this task, so that he could prove that to himself,
once and for all. Because the master knew, deep in his heart, his apprentice doubted. He was
ruled by his own fear, his own lack of true conviction. Should he ever see her again, would it
change everything? Or would he stay true to his vow, to what he had become?
Slowly, he crept down the hallway. No one was around, not on these floors. They were
secluded, empty. Just like Iyala's soul. He could feel her emptiness as keenly as his own. He was
amazed that his bond with her was still so strong, even after all these years.
But he pushed all of that aside. Bond or no bond, it would all be over soon. Once he
completed this task, the master would bestow upon him the title he longed for. The title that the
Cult of the Destroyer had denied him because he had been too weak. The title of Darth.
Darth Maul.
He gritted his teeth, ignoring the intense pain it caused. They had rotted with misuse,
with abuse and ignorance. But his mouth was unnecessary. Words were often wasted. People
didn't understand words, they understood force. They understood fear. He could bring fear to
faces without speaking. Why should he bother with words?
She was in her quarters...he could faintly hear running water. Bathing, perhaps? His face
burned underneath the heavy black and red tattoo. The very thought that his lust for her could distract him after all this time only added fuel to his rage. Perhaps he would take her once more,
just to prove to himself that she meant nothing. One last, glorious time, and then end her life. It
would be perfect. It would be the ultimate revenge.
He reached the door. Did she know he was there? She would, within a few seconds. How
she knew mattered little. Maybe he would wait here, let her suddenly become aware of him, let
the fear rise up in her--the sweet fear, her fear especially. He relished the taste as if it were a rare
delicacy. That she should fear him, she who knew him best as he once was, was more than he
could ask for. It would be the crowning jewel in his dark crest as a sith lord. The total
annihilation of who had once been...he had to resist the urge to tear open the door and appear to
her, the desire for that accomplishment was so overwhelming. It was nearly distracting--
Suddenly, she sensed him. He felt her muscles tense, felt her old reflexes coil inside of
her. He smiled. She had not been much when he'd first met her, but the man he had been had
loved her anyway. What a fool he had been. After all, it had been so easy..........

It wouldn't fit in the other post by about 100 characters so here it is.

PART 3:

He'd been watching her for some time. He liked watching her, the way she moved, the
way the thick material that hugged her curvaceous body rippled over her muscles. Her dark hair
that gleamed red in the flickering rays of the sunset was tied in a tail that hung down her back It
was slightly damp in the heavy humidity of Reven, the capital of Iridonia. He'd always hated the
humidity. Give him the desert any day, he would take the empty sands compared to the density
of this place.
Sighing, he let himself slide to the ground. She wouldn't be moving for a while. They had
her stuck in the security wing of the small space port. A heavy satchel slid off her shoulder and
landed on the ground, and he caught the faint clink of metal hitting metal. Maybe she was some
kind of trader...or better yet, a bounty hunter. He felt himself smiling in anticipation. He'd been
playing this game for the better part of the day, and it was only a matter of time before he found
the right opportunity to make his presence known to her. Not that she might care much. What
was an orphan to her? She wasn't even from here--she certainly wasn't Zabrak, not with that thick
head of hair.
He reached up and touched his hairless crown, feeling the faint ridges of where his horns
should be. They hadn't grown in yet--wouldn't until he finished his growth. Although from what
he'd seen of many of the alien species that surrounded him, he was rather large for his age. But
the Zabrak body always reached its growth in physical size before the rest of the changes kicked
in. Maybe to her he would seem like an adult. He hoped so. He would hate for her to dismiss
him as a child. He could take her repulsion for his street rags before he could take her repulsion
for his immaturity.
Okay....she was moving now. She had jumped line and was taking a short cut.
Attempting to bypass security? Where would that get her? Even small ports like this one had
excellent security. They would catch her and detain her for even longer than before--
She glanced over her shoulder. Her skin glowed darkly, as if she had spent too much time
in the sun. Durranian--he had recognized that right off, but hadn't gotten a good look because
most the time he'd spent looking at her had been focused on her back. Now he could even see the
brief flashing of her eyes--a rich, emerald green. His heartbeat quickened. She couldn't escape
him now, not after all the time he'd invested in this stupid little game.
She slipped down an alley he hadn't even noticed, and he had to nearly run to follow her.
He kept his steps silent--he was very good at keeping quiet. An entire lifetime spent on the
streets of this city had taught him the virtue of silence. Noise was, at times, the equivalent of death.
He reached the dark, wide crack and realized that she had disappeared again. He strained
his ears, and heard the faint pattering of feet. He glanced up and caught the barest hint of a
shadow.
She had taken to the roof.
He scampered to the nearest gutter and climbed up after her, still keeping silence. His
eyes had just reached the roof level when she dove off the other end, her hair flipping upwards
as she jumped, the tail whipping wildly for a second and then falling. He heaved himself up after
her and for the first time cursed his cumbersome size. Then he calmed himself and used his
strange powers to lighten his muscles. It worked...he was on the other side and jumping off into
the other alley, her shadow in his side vision for just a few seconds. He had to work harder to
keep his silence, drawing heavily on the same powers to keep his feet light and his steps quick.
For a second, as he rounded a corner, he lost her altogether, and then had to reach out with his
mind, not knowing what he was looking for but knowing he would recognize it when he saw it.
*There* she was, slipping into a building that smelled like day old guric eggs and rotting
creaw meat. It was so foul, he was tempted to just give up and go home. Surely she wouldn't be
staying there. It seemed beneath her.
He strolled down the alley a few feet away, keeping his mind open, barely touching her
but keeping her pattern firmly fixed in his brain. Maybe he would get lucky and she would come
out. Maybe it wasn't her place, she was just using it as a temporary shelter. Or maybe she was
trying to shake off any unwanted followers---
Something snagged him from behind. A slender arm was around his neck, and the foul
smells of the building were quickly buried underneath the thick, sweet smell of leather and
sweat. It was almost hypnotic, the way she clung to him, her mind suddenly open to him, wide
and beautiful and furiously angry.
The cold barrel of a blaster against his cheek wasn't even enough to break the spell. His
hand went up instinctively, his fingers finding only the sleek material that covered her. She was
strong, he would give her that--her grip was threatening to cut off his windpipe.
"Who are you?" she rasped into his ear. He felt a sudden shiver as he struggled to reply.
"Kha....Kha...." If she wanted an answer, she was going to have to let up. As if she heard
him, her muscle relaxed just a bit. "Khameir Sarin."
He felt her frown. "Zabrak," she muttered. "Stupid me for not doing my homework." She
sighed, her breath hot on the back of his neck, sending another chill. "Why are you following
me?"
He couldn't answer. He didn't know. There was just something about her. He turned his
head a bit, trying to see her eyes, but knowing that their touching minds was as close as he was
going to get.
Abruptly, she released him, and her mind closed off, as if it had never been there. He
stumbled forward but caught himself with simple grace, his fingers lightly touching the rough
stone of the opposing wall as he finally got to turn and face her.

This is new stuff! A love story! Good going! So far it seems very well-written. Bring in more! Does it go farther?

much farther. I just wanted to see how everyone likes it before I post a whole lot of it, but what the heck. I'll post some more.

Good. Everyone else will recognize it soon enough.

PART 4:

Iyala glanced up. He was here. Somehow, she knew he would be. She had always been
able to sense him, sometimes before even he sensed her. Rarely, though. Less and less rarely as
the years had passed. Out of practice, she wondered. But Khameir had never been one to be
subtle. He had always been so heartwrenchingly blunt, it was ridiculous.
For the first time in a decade, she remembered...............

PART 5:

Iyala frowned down at her new captive, confused. She didn't sense anything malicious
from him. He was a Zabrak, and a Force sensitive one at that. But many Zabrak were, it wasn't
unusual. They had what was generally known as mind control, but she hadn't really believed it
until now.
He hadn't spoken more than his name, but the soft quietness of his voice, the deep,
velvety tones, told her much more than any words he could have said. She couldn't tell how old
he was--all these Zabrak seemed to be the same size. He looked mature enough, except for his
lack of horns. The thickness of his muscles, the smoothness of his face...surely he had to be old
enough to know better.
And the way he was looking at her....it was almost arousing. Unless he was trying to use
that mind control thing of his on her. She didn't lower her gun, even though by now she was sure
he meant her no harm. Well, not the hurting kind of harm, anyway. Maybe he thought she was a
prostitute. She couldn't really be insulted, considering the way she was dressed. But most johns
didn't stalk prostitutes. They didn't have to stalk them.
He turned and leaned against the wall, watching her as she watched him. She'd felt him
for a while now, at first brushing him off as just being idly curious and then allowing him to
follow her just to see where it would lead. Now that she was here, she slightly regretted her
decision, for now she had no idea what to do about him.
He wasn't exactly unattractive...and his clothes were pretty pathetic. Standard black
issues, the kind that charities gave away because the material was too course to be sold and yet
durable enough for those who had to live on the streets. As tempted as she was to feel sorry for
him and his obviously impoverished condition, she couldn't help but be wary of the way he
moved. It was with a certain delicateness and grace that made her suspect he was not at all what
he seemed. Still, there seemed to be something so...needing...about him....
She sighed again, her gun hand dropping. Maybe they were all right about her. Maybe
she should just go back home and work for some public charity service. She was just too soft
hearted to live this kind of life. After all, she was about to say--
"Well, since you've gone through all the trouble of catching up with me," she said,
swinging her bag over her shoulder and holstering her gun, "you may as well come along."
He straightened, surprised. But he did not hesitate to follow her retreating form down the
alley, even as she swore under her breath the entire way.

PART 6:

Now...it had to be now! She knew he was here--there was no sense in waiting any longer.
He extended his hand toward the door and the internal mechanisms creaked and groaned as they
gave in to his will. The door slid back and Maul realized that the room inside was completely
dark.
Perhaps she had known he was coming even before he had decided to come. It was not
the first time that had happened, but it would be the last. The hold he had on her would end,
now.
He stepped into the chamber, pulling his lightsaber from his belt. He did not ignite it--no
sense it being so aggressive. Perhaps he would toy with her a bit. This would be the last time he
would see her, after all. There would be no turning back.
"Khameir?" came her voice, slightly rough with age, from the back corner of the room.
She stepped forward, and he caught the glint of metal in her hand. So she had that cortis ore wand in her possession still. Perhaps it had been a gift from Zenar, his last effort to protect her
from her misbegotten Zabrak mate. Maul grinned. She would be no match for him, not with her
meager Force skills, even with that wand. But it would make the game a bit more fun.
"My name is Maul," he growled at her through his malicious grin. But she did not flinch
as she usually did whenever he referred to himself in that way. The first time he had used it, she
had nearly started to cry. He remembered with unwanted shame how he had almost turned back
at that moment, even though the Cult had only been a stepping stone to his destiny. There was no
turning back, not anymore.
Instead, her face was a mask of stone. Beautiful, golden stone, with hard, cold emeralds
where her soft eyes should have been. A grim line where her lush mouth should have been. Deep
lines of distress where she should have been beaming with pleasure at their reunion--no, all of
that was gone. He had turned Iyala into this walking corpse. And he could feel the rage coming
from her, banishing all of the fear he desired, the outrage that he would return to her now, after
all he had done to her. Her fingers were nearly white where she gripped the golden-colored base
of the wand, the crystal blade catching the faint light and sending it into his eyes, nearly blinding
him.
This revenge should have been the sweetest of all. She did not fear him. She hated him.
Hated him with every inch of her being. And as determined as he had been to destroy her, so she
was determined to destroy him.
"No," she rasped, hearing his thoughts. He scowled at her intrusion, but she made no
effort to pull back. "You have already destroyed me. You destroyed me the first time we met."

Keep going...

Don't worry, this part may look bad at first, but it isn't the whole way through.

PART 7:

The first thing Iyala realized when she awoke was that she hurt all over. It was a deep,
grinding pain--not entirely unpleasant, but definitely striking. A groan escaped her lungs as she
attempted to roll over, her legs feeling like dead weights as they refused to follow. And then
came the real pain, the loud, screaming ache from between her legs. She let out the rest of her
breath as she finally got her elbows under her, the covers sliding off her chest and revealing her
naked breasts.
Her eyes focused and she realized that it was the middle of the night. What had
happened? The memories were foggy, as if she'd had too much of that thick, sweet liquor that
was a delicacy around here and often flowed too much in abundance whenever she paid this
planet a business visit. But no, she didn't remember drinking anything. The bitter taste of the
hangovers the stuff caused was absent from the back of her throat. So what else could it have
been?
She turned her head to the side and saw that the bed was empty, but the covers had been
ruffled. She managed to slide a hand over to touch them, and realized that they were still warm,
and had a distinct, musky odor. Her eyes widened, and this time her groan was in earnest.
What had she been thinking? A thousand curses filled her mind as she proceeded to pour
them onto her own head. Falling onto her back, she let the pain come, let it punish her. Would
she never learn? How many times did she have to fall before the lesson finally took hold? Never
take in strangers...especially young, well-muscled, good-looking ones who watch you like---
Okay, enough of that, she told herself. Damage done. Time to assess it. Reaching deep
into her mind, she struggled to control the pain until most of it faded away into a low,
thrumming ache. She could live with that--or rather, work with it. She knew she should live with
the whole ball of wax, but right now she had to take care of business and deal with whatever
immediate consequences this situation was about to present. Although she knew she was not very sensitive in the Force, she did have a bit of a gift for using its calming techniques and
suppressing pain. Today, they would come in handy.
Slowly, so slowly, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. What time was it,
anyway? A few hours before dawn, she guessed. It had been early afternoon when she'd found
that Zabrak and taken him in. A lot of hours needed to be accounted for. The last thing she
remembered was ordering him to take a bath because he smelled like a combination of her
niece's dirty diapers and her father's smoking pole. There was no way she was going to tolerate
that. But that had all taken place within an hour, and she was sure that everything had started
when she'd smelled him all cleaned up and--*Yejion have mercy,* she thought as a few
memories flittered through her mind. No wonder she was so sore! The man may have been a
Zabrak, but he had to have the hormones of a newly-pubescent bantha to have done this kind of
damage to her. She was sure she had passed out a few times. Memories this vague without any
drug to blame meant only one thing--it had been a wild night she may not want to remember.
Ever.
Now she was on her feet and striding--stiffly--over to her satchel. Everything was there.
Okay, he hadn't been after her loot. That was reassuring. At least he was an honest horn-dog. Of
course, if she had detected anything malicious from him, she would never have taken him in.
She remembered that the intriguing thing about him had been his intense interest in her. Well,
after last night, she was sure his interests were sated. He's skipped the traditional speech, though-
-good night, thanks for all the sex, see you around the galaxy, yadda yadda yadda...she snorted.
Her judgement in character was severely flawed. No more relying on Force vibrations, she
vowed. Maybe she should just go back to Durran and join the convent. It might keep her out of
trouble that she couldn't keep herself out of, apparently.
She found her way into the bathroom and turned on the water. The tub was still damp
from last night, with shriveled bits of foam dotting the lip of the large basin here and there. She
wiped them away, noticing that they had captured his scent. She shook her head again at herself.
She'd heard stories about Zabrak men, but hearing the stories and experiencing them were two
different things. Maybe someday she would be able to remember this night clearly enough to remember this night clearly enough to
share a story or two of her own. She found herself hoping not as she stepped into the steaming
liquid. Within minutes, she was covered up to her neck, the heat working away at her soreness,
and the soothing feeling comforting her stinging conscience. Everything would be okay. All she
had to do was get a little restful sleep and get back to work. Put some distance between her and
this embarrassing situation. Soon, she wouldn’t feel anything at all about it. She would tell her tales
with the same dispassion as all the other whores she knew. Maybe they would even admire her.
At least someone would.
The water was cool when she stepped out of it half an hour later. Finding a scraggly
towel, she wrapped herself in it and trotted back out into the main room. Her clothes were in a
tangled heap on the corner, and it took her several minutes to untangle them. Then she realized
that her undergarments were nowhere to be seen. With most of the soreness gone--except for
some painful scratches she'd found on the lower left side of her back--she was able to search for
them in earnest for the better part of fifteen minutes before she gave up and sat down on the bed,
her face red from indignation. So much for an easy clean-up, she thought to herself as she
grabbed at her satchel, praying to find a fresh pair. Those panties weren't easy to come by. She
would have to go all the way back to Durran for another pair, as they were made from the
planet's unique and incredibly sturdy linen. Then, as she reached for her body suit, she realized
that the scratches down her back matched a newly-discovered long tear in the suit perfectly, and she let out a long, angry growl as she hurled the clothes across the room.
Just as the clothes slapped against the wall beside the door, the door opened. A bald,
ridged head with what looked like horns peeking out from the center of the ridges appeared, and
for the first time Iyala got a good look at the red-yellow eyes of her Zabrak suitor, looking down
at her in confusion.
"Something wrong?" he asked in that voice of his. She scowled at him.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
He had stepped all the way into the room and had been closing the door behind him when
her words stopped him short. He almost looked hurt. "You did not wish me to return?" he asked.
The tone of his voice was like a hand smoothing over her angry features as she felt them
disappear. "You were gone. I assumed that was it."
He shook his head. "I left for only a short while. Have you been awake long?"
She sighed. Okay, so she had assumed too quickly that he wasn't coming back. Now she
would have to disentangle herself from this situation, and quickly. She had to try and leave again
at dawn, before security got too tight. "Long enough. Where did you go?"
He stepped closer to her and she realized he was holding a bag. He reached inside of it
and pulled out a fine, bright-green tunic, woven from Durranian linen. Her eyes lit up when she
saw it, even wider when he produced a pair of black trousers to match it.
"I...ruined your clothes," he said, his smile bashful and achingly endearing, even as he
glanced over at her suit, which had landed in a pile on the floor. "I see you found that out. I am
sorry if I angered you."
She was fighting the urge to laugh as she waved her hand dismissively. "Forget it," she
said, then reached forward to take his gift. "Thank you, but you didn't have to." Then she paused,
her frown returning as she took in his appearance, realizing he was still those same ratty black
clothes of his. "How in the world did you get these?" she asked.
He smiled again, but this time it was not bashful, but knowing. "I have ways."
She frowned harder. Durranian linen was notoriously expensive offworld. "I hope you
didn't steal them," she said in a low voice.
His face froze. "I did not want to steal from you to pay for them," he said softly. And
then, she felt his embarrassment, his shame...it was frighteningly like her own, what she had felt
when she had awakened and realized what she had done. But it was what she did, her flaw in
character, something she felt powerless to control, even to the point where she was sure it was
almost necessary for her to do it, just to maintain who she was.
She shook her head, detaching her mind from his. What was with this guy, anyway? How
did he affect her like this? She leaned back in the chair, letting her back rest against the rough
fabric as she held the green tunic. Then her eyes drifted back up to his face again, and realized
he was sitting on the floor, his legs folded under him, his expression patient and guarded.
"Is it my imagination," she began, "or did you start to grow horns since I last saw you?"
At her words, his face brightened and he stood up, rushing to the small mirror in the
bathroom.

Don't worry, it's not like this the whole way through.

PART 7 continued:

She leaned forward, the scratches in her side complaining as she made an effort to
stand, forcing her to change her mind. He was in the bathroom for a few minutes and she took
the opportunity to pull off her towel and slip the tunic over her head. When he did emerge, there
was a huge smile of pride on his face, and his fingers were idly running over the ridges, where
the tips of the horns were just peeking through.
"Soon they will be fully grown," he said, his low voice husky in excitement. "Then I will
be an adult, and I can marry you."
The expression on her face had to be comical, as she felt her jaw slack and her eyes widen with his words. She didn't know which ones to examine first, but found that the ones
expressing his desire to marry her caused her lips to abruptly part in a soundless, breathy laugh.
"Excuse me?" she said.
He dropped to his knees, his hands reaching out for her legs, closing around her bare
thighs and making her skin tingle. She had to force herself to pull away, but it did little to
dampen his excitement.
"I cannot marry you until I am a full adult," he explained.
Okay, that was the second part of the sentence she should have noticed. An eyebrow
arched. "And you aren't an adult?" she asked dully.
He shook his head. "Not yet, but soon."
Now she was scowling, not sure whether to be angry or outraged. "Then how old are
you?" she asked, her voice rising slightly.
"Fifteen," he replied.
"FIFTEEN!" She stood up, forgetting that she was nude from the waist down. The tunic
covered her well enough, but the sudden burst of cool air between her legs was a startling
reminder. She stepped around him, her agitation so intense it made her arms shake as she
scooped up the trousers and struggled to put them on.
"Fifteen!" she cried again. "I slept with a fifteen year old....boy!" She whirled around as
she finally got the trousers to her waist, the rage sparking out from her and snapping around him
like electricity. "Great Yejion, it's not enough for me to be a whore but I also have to be a child
molester!"
If she had been calmer, she might have seen his face darken and his rage begin to grow.
He was no *boy,* he was almost a full grown man, and certainly old enough to take care of
himself, and her, if she wished it. He had survived his life and lived to be as old as he was not
just by good fortune but because he was smart and strong, and he had special gifts. The outrage
that she should suddenly be rejecting him because of the number of his years swelled out of him
and he snapped, reaching for her with both hands, yanking her to him even as she swung her fists
at him in resistance.
He pulled her so close their chests were pressed together, and he glared down into her
face, his expression fierce and overwhelming. "I am no boy," he growled, and before she could
say another insulting word, he pulled her lips up to his and kissed her.
Instantly, everything came back. Every sensation, even the tearing pain of her suit being
ripped open and her flesh being torn, came rushing back into her mind, and it all made sense. He
was no boy, but he was not yet a man, either, and unable to control himself. It explained why she
hurt all over, why she couldn't remember everything that had happened last night. He was
reaching the peak of his growth, and he everything in him was very soft and malleable. His
hormones and his emotions were raging as they formed, at first soft like clay, but going into the
heavy heat to become hard and forever concrete. His attachment to her was overwhelming,
considering they had just met, but the timing had been everything. As the kiss softened, she
realized that he meant every word he had said to her. He meant to marry her, and even if she
refused he would follow her to his dying day, ever her faithful servant, ever her footstool, her
protector, her lover. It was too much--it scared her. She had never meant for this to happen,
never meant to get so involved.
Still, it was something part of her had always expected. She had been stupid, had let all
of this happen. She deserved it, deserved him, come hell or high water. She was stuck with it,
and while a part of her was excited by it--by him--another part felt like she had just been chained
a shackled, and was finally going to pay the price for her sins. Despair threatened her as he finally let her go. She wanted to cry, wanted to hit him,
wanted to turn and run. But she couldn't go anywhere. There was nowhere to go. Slowly, she
sank to her knees, her face in her hands. She felt his confusion, his own pain as he watched her
reaction. Minutes passed, and then he picked her up and carried her to the bed. The sudden fear
that he would force himself on her rose in her, but he soothed it away with gentle kisses in her
hair and the breathy warmth of his voice as he murmured reassurances into her neck.
Long minutes passed, and she waited, calm. Their emotions were tangled--she could not
tell one thing from another. But she could feel something warm there, something hopeful and
bright. And even though she wasn't entirely confident in the source of his emotions, she was sure
of one thing.
For whatever reason, he loved her. Instantly, and totally. His heart had become her slave.
She reached deep within herself and used the calming techniques. Maybe this was the
work of the Force. Maybe Yejion, in His Wisdom, had seen fit to do this to her as both her
punishment and her reward. She wasn't sure what she thought about any of that. But there would
be plenty of time to think about it. She raised her head and looked at him, this new part of
herself. Her fingers reached up and danced over the ridges, scraping slightly against the very tips
of his horns.
"Khameir," she whispered, and wasn't sure if she had even said his name before.
He touched her face, his fingers threading heavily into her thick hair. "I am yours," he
whispered back.
Hesitantly, she lowered her face to his, and kissed him. He returned it with gentle
eagerness.
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, after all.

PART 8:

"Then I have come to finish the job."
She sneered at him. "You unimaginable bastard. I'm a mere shell of the person I once
was. What is there left for you to do? Taking my life would be a mercy. You've already taken my
son, taken my honor, taken my love. There is nothing else!" She raised the wand and turned it so
that I was pointed at her own chest. "I will not give you the pleasure of showing me mercy! I will
take my own life before I'll let you have it!"
He lunged at her, lightning fast, using all his Force-trained reflexes. His gloved hand
reached out and slapped the wand from her grip, and the expression of horror on her face was
almost satisfying. She tried to pull back, but he was too fast. He caught her around the waist, his
hands locking around her wrists and pinning them against her as he crushed her chest into his.
His lightsaber fell to the floor behind him, forgotten.
"LET ME GO!" she screamed, her face a horrible, twisted mask of rage and pain. Her
eyes bore into his, the emerald stones finally falling away as tears streamed down her cheeks. He
could have killed her in that instant, snapping her spine in his grip, as iron-tight as it was. But he
suddenly felt no need.
She was already broken. Completely and utterly crushed. He had defeated her. He had
destroyed her. There was nothing left. She didn't even have her pride or her dignity.
He looked down at her, his fierce expression falling away. His feelings were betraying
him now, even as he struggled to contain them. But he lacked the discipline. He lacked the
ability. He lacked the strength. Even now he could feel the master chastising him, ashamed of
his weakness. If there had been any room for color on his tattooed cheeks, they would have
burned red with indignation. But still, he could not to it. He could not kill her. Not like this. Not after everything.
He bent his head close to hers. She had stopped struggling now, waiting for the
inevitable, like an old, dying dog waited for the final crack of gunshot. He searched her face,
searched her mind, running over the memories that were burned into her. He found the one of
their son, and she flinched, letting out a small groan. If he could not kill her, he would make her
suffer. It was her own fault, after all, for ever having gotten involved with him. If she had just
kept running that day, or had never come back to Iridonia--even though she had promised she
would--none of this might have happened to her. He could have taken his destiny alone. It would
have been the same either way. She had done this all to herself.
"Look at me, Iyala," he whispered, his voice still unchanged after all these years. She
flinched again, but shook her head, her last act of defiance. He clenched his gloved fingers
around her chin and brought her eyes up to meet his. He touched the memory again, the face of
his son before he had put the purple mask on his face burning bright and fresh in her mind. The
tears streamed down her cheeks, and he relished the pain.
Then he kissed her.
Summoning all the power at his command, he dove into her mind, searching for it. Surely
it was not dead--if his lust for her had not died, surely her lust for him had not died, either. Now
that he had already done all he could to betray her, it was time to make her betray herself.
She moaned when he found it, and called all of her remaining strength to her as she
struggled against him. But it was no use. He was too powerful.
Carrying her to the bed, he found that what was left of her lust for him was not as strong
as his lust for her. She still struggled, still cried as if she were being forced. He used his Zabrak
mind control to finish the task, and she gave into him, even though her body struggled. He found
he didn't mind. He had been with too many complacent concubines over the last several years.
Let her struggle, he thought. It would just make this sweeter still.

It's well-written - am I correct in thinking that it is from a woman on the web who has written many Khameir Sarin stories and has them kept on a site? I've been there before, and it's a little bit racy for me...
However, the piece is good. Wait and see what everyone else thinks.

All right - I did another Skywalker fight (it's a continuation off of the last story). I have decided to make a chronicle - maybe the idea sucks, but I decided to go with it. I also didn't get to edit it, so it's probably kind of rough.

THE SKYWALKER CHRONICLES
CHAPTER TWO: PARADISE LOST

By me:

Luke Skywalker looked up. Yes, he was back at home, and the stark constrast it made to his environment of moments before was astounding. The Jedi Master had just had the fight of his life with the greatest Sith Lord of all time in the old Sith domain - being home was a strange feeling, even though his absence had been fairly short. Nonetheless, his pupils here at the school would be worried. At the moment, however, Luke wanted nothing more than to spend a few hours in a hibernation cell. Explanations would have to wait until later.

The Jedi Master stood up and wandered away from his spot. He soon found his way around to the infirmary - it took him a long time, but he was also slightly dazed from his fight. Strangely, though, he encounered no one on his way there. Finally, he found a capsule to heal him. The effort of hauling himself inside was considerable, though he was able to turn on the cell and clamber inside relatively quickly. Before Skywalker lost consciousness, though, he felt a minor disturbance in the force, but in a moment it disappeared, along with every other thought or care in his mind...

"Welcome to my domain."

Luke awoke with a start. Someone had spoken. He had not imagined this voice - it was very real, like a cold, menacing sweep of wind, or the hard, gritty, sound of solid steel. Luke turned his head and saw two hard, calculating eyes, staring in at him, summing him up.

In an instant, Skywalker leapt from the hibernation cell and summoned his lightsaber, his health and vigor fully replenished.

"Who are you?"

"I am Exar Kun. This is my home."

Luke could now see the full profile of this man. He was powerfully built, with a Sith lightsaber at his side. His hair was sleek and black, and he wore tattered and simple garments.

"I thought I was on Yavin IV..."

"And you are."

"So then..."

"You are here because you are meant to be here. Did you really believe that your fight was over? Did you truly believe that your pathetic skills were sufficient to alter time and space? You did not bring yourself here with your own actions - you were summoned here to face judgment at the hands of the Sith. This is the Yavin IV before you knew it - when it was used for the study of the honorable Sith. I am the master of this establishment - this is my place of residence. So, when you are ready, I intend to destroy you to ensure the continuation of the Dark Side of the Force."

Luke was shocked by the news. However, this man, though obviously powerful, was nothing compared to Marka Ragnos - Luke was sure he could survive this yet. The Jedi Master grabbed his lightsaber, rolled his head between his shoulders, and prepared himself for battle.

"I'm ready," he heard himself say.

Kun was fast, so fast that it might have been the end of Skywalker if he had not armed himself first. The formidable enemy drew a blue Sith lightsaber and a moment later Luke took his ignited green blade and blocked the oncoming blow. No sooner had he reached up to counter the move, he felt the full force of his opponent's swing come crashing down on his lightsaber. The strength of this man was amazing. Luke was quick to recover, however, and jumped over Kun, directing a well-aimed force-push at his back. His offense was dodged by a quick sidestep made by his foe, and they both turned to face each other.

The fight had begun.

Luke swiveled around, trying to size up Exar Kun, trying to find a weakness, but there seemed to be nothing that could penetrate the man's aura. At the same time, they both ran at each other and attacked. It was a flurry of action, blow upon blow raining down on either side. The pure power of this new Sith Lord was nearly enough to wear down even Luke. However, neither side was losing ground - it was a battle of great intensity.

Luke tried several times to use the Force to his advantage, but Kun dodged or blocked every attempt he made - the fight was going nowhere. In a matter of time, Luke slipped and Exar Kun ran up to strike him down. But just when it seemed as though the Jedi Master's endurance might actually run out, Luke was presented with an opportunity, and he used it as far to his advantage has he could.

Exar Kun had an almost flawless technique with his lightsaber. He held it in two hands, caressing the handle and wielding his weapon like a true master. However, as he ran at Luke, he let go with one hand and stretched out to jab his opponent between the ribs single-handed. Luke saw this and found his opening.

Before Kun could reach him, Luke Skywalker jumped over Kun and waited for his foe to turn. Not wanting to risk dropping his lightsaber, Kun kept his one hand on the handle. This was the gap Luke needed to defeat this skilled Sith Lord. Instead of attacking, Skywalker called on the Force to bend the two blades back from a 180-degree shape and make the beams collinear. Instantly, the lightsabers separated and Kun found himself holding nothing but air. Before he knew what had happened, his own two sabers had folded back upon themselves, closing around and through Kun like a pair of shears.

An instant later, the two lightsabers fell to the floor and promptly shut off. Shocked at the battle's abrupt end, the Sith Lord looked outraged, but a moment later his dismembered upper body fell down from atop his legs and torso, which, no longer supporting the massive body, collapsed to the ground.

Luke Skywalker, Jedi Master, had held his own for the second time that day, a day that had happened in three different millenia. He was exhausted. Kneeling down, he prepared to rest in one of the hibernation cells before making his plans on how to return home.

However, on his way over to the small capsules, Luke collapsed in a heap and felt himself once again summoned into the time-space continuum to some yet unknown danger...

Glentract, the Maul story you posted sounds like some woman's mad sexual Sith fantasy. It's a bit disturbing.

ya, well it said it was rated PG-13 for violence, not crap like that. I had also heard good things about it. I'm probably not going to post any more of it. I should have read the whole thing through before I posted any of it.l

ah post it we have many fans who have different hungers...lol....thinking website here.....lol

This one was written by Fishy in like 10 minutes so he didnt edit stuff but didnt make many mistakes either plus good plot to bring them together and in my opinion agreeable outcome....here it is!!!! Yoda vs Grievous

Utupau was under attack by the clone army’s and the federation army’s. General Kenobi had lead an army of warriors to find and kill General Grievous before it was to late end to end the clone wars once and for all. Kenobi raced threw the city trying to find Grievous, who was racing away from him before he had even fought. His four arms still in tact as he sat in his vehicle racing from one side of the area to the other. They crossed the ways of thousands of clones and droids destroying many of them in their chase. Grievous wanted to stay he wanted to kill Kenobi but he had a more important mission and he had no choice but to run. He had to be fast if he wanted to reach Kashyyyk before order 66 was executed.

Palpatine knew as no other that Yoda could not lose from a few clone troopers bigger guns were needed and Grievous was just that. When he reached his ship he jumped on and took off before Obi wan Kenobi even reached him. On Coruscant Palpatine knew he had gained himself some more time and he hoped that he could kill Obi wan Kenobi before he left that planet and execute order 66 after Yoda was already dead. It all depended on a few things, Yoda and Mace had to die would Palpatine want to stand a chance, and if they did not die he would have to be able to do what he wanted without them interfering to soon. A month was all he needed to become politically untouchable, if it would even take that long. He had planned it all.

All that remained was to turn Anakin so Mace could be killed and use Grievous to kill Yoda, his plan would be finished when that happened. Grievous knew of his importance and found himself happier then ever as he raced towards Kashyyyk. He landed in the middle of a battle were thousand of droids were attacking the clones and the Wookies. He realised damn well that this battle would be lost, but he was not there to prevent the lose of his army’s on Kashyyyk he was there for more important reasons.

He ignored the clone troopers and landed as far away from them as possible, as soon as ship opened he started to run to the nearest tree. He took the high road to the beach and the platform were Yoda was. Silently he jumped on the platform, he dropped his cape and grabbed his four lightsabers. The two troops didn’t even hear him as he ignited them and cut threw their body’s. Yoda and the Wookies immediately turned around.

Tarfull was the first to charge, Grievous jumped back against the hill then forward and landed behind him, his lightsabers slashed threw Tarfull his back killing him immediately screaming in pain the Wookie chieftain fell to the ground. Chewbacca wanted to charge but Yoda stopped him. “Strong enough to stop him you are not Chewbacca. Handle this I will.” Yoda dropped his walking stick and ignited his lightsaber. Grievous walked forward with a victorious smile on his face.

“You are doomed.” He said smiling “Find me weak you will not Grievous.” “Master Yoda… You will be my greatest prize yet.” “Underestimate me you should not.”

Grievous wasted no more words and attacked, his lightsabers spinning as he moved in for the kill. Yoda looked at Grievous and waited until the last second before he jumped in the air, he landed behind Grievous and pushed Grievous forward with the force. Grievous flew over the observation platform. He hit the table there with his stomach his legs were under it and his body followed. He tried to brake but had a hard time, the chair at the other end of the table was what stopped him. His four Lightsabers were stuck everywhere he could and he barely managed to hold on. When he hit the chair it flew backwards but it stopped Grievous his speed. The chair flew of the platform and down.
Downstairs a unfortunate clone trooper was hit in the head by it. Grievous was not discouraged by Yoda his attack and jumped in the air and attacked again. Again Yoda waited for Grievous and jumped over him, this time Yoda his push made Grievous fly against the tree. Grievous his armour was crushed by the impact of the attack. When he stood up his heart chamber was open for all to see.

Grievous who was now mad attacked Yoda with all his fury, no longer spinning his lightsabers he attacked from all sides at Yoda, but Yoda was faster and jumped away another strike by Grievous but Yoda blocked it. Then two lightsabers came flying form the other side, Yoda jumped in the air and Grievous missed. Grievous turned around expecting to see Yoda there but Yoda landed on the same side as he jumped. Grievous had his back turned and with one quick strike Yoda cut of Grievous his head from behind.

Two hours later Yoda would find himself on a freighter with Obi wan Kenobi running back to Coruscant to find the Academy destroyed, Mace dead and Anakin as Lord Vader.

By Darth_Frobo

Revan vs. Yoda

The tiny jedi master's footsteps echoed through the halls of the Jedi temple. Yoda had been disturbed from his rest, there was a disturbance in the force. The dim illumination in the empty hallways left scattered shadows throught the hall, for once in his life Yoda was afraid.

"Having trouble getting to sleep master jedi?"

the voice echoed through his head in a low whisper, Yoda whirled around his hand clutching the hilt of his lightsaber and what he saw would be etched in his memories forever. There stood a sith lord in long black robes with a full helmet and cape, twin lightsabers drawn, the tiny jedi said only one word, "Revan."

"Yes master yoda," the whisper returned " I have searched far and wide for one worthy of my skill and finally I have come to you, I hope you won't dissapoint me." and with that he flourished his blades.

"For one such as you, time I do not have Revan."

"Master Yoda if you think you have a choice in this matter then you are sorely mistaken, you will fight me or i will slaughter the younglings as they sleep." Revan hissed in Yoda's head.

The tiny jedi ignited his green saber, "Then time it is for you to learn the true nature of the force."

With that the two master swordsmen clashed, sabers moving like lightening, Yoda sent a flurry of slashes at Revan bringing his saber high then faking downwards at the last second Revan took a step back and batted Yodas' saber aside with a flick of his wrist and kicked him square in the face, now Revan was on the offensive sabers humming as he slashed through the air, spinning he brought his crimson saber twards Yodas' middle, the jedi flipped over revans blade kicked off his chest and brought two midair slashes down on revan who parried them easily. Yoda landed behind Revan and sent a thrust towards his stomach but was sent flying by a chair. The tiny jedi master ducked as a chair flew over his head leaving a small crater in the wall behind him. He kicked off a flying piece of debris and sent a series of low slashes at Revan, who saw them coming before they had even entered the jedi masters head and deftly sidestepped brining his blades crashing down, he rained blow after blow on Yoda toying with the jedi penetrating his defenses time and time again, arcs of red and purple singed the very air as they flipped in deadly arcs with every flick of Revan's wrist, the powerful strokes came at Yoda time and time again but he didn't falter, he parried a low swipe and used it to propel himself over the sith lords head bringing his saber towards revan's middle with a powerful sroke. His arm froze in midair as much as yoda willed it to move but it only started to bend backwards, there was an audible snap then pain flooded his body, soon replaced by an intense burining between his ribs. Revan sent him flying with a burst of force lighting, the jedi looked down only to see his own lightsaber blade lodged between his ribs, it was the last thing he saw before his eyes clouded over and he became one with the force.

So this is what my husband reads. Well normally I wouldnt agrre with himon much but I want more of that disturbing story, lol, Or maybe some romantic stuff between Anakin and Amildala.? Anything for the wife of sithkiller?

sorry, no can do.

Are you really married to Sithkiller?