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8 mos ago
Current Started back to work this week, so I'm exhausted. I'll get some posts done tonight.
10 mos ago
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1 yr ago
Feeling burnt out. Medication isn't working like it should. I'm gonna try to keep writing, but it might take a while.
1 yr ago
Sottu got making people wait. My wife is getting ready to run her own DnD campaign soon, and I'm helping her.
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"For eight-hundred years, the Grandmaster of the order, I was." said Yoda, looking down at his feet. "Perhaps, for too long, it was."

He then turned his eyes to Kijani, full of an emotion that not even the old Jedi could recognize. Sorrow? Disappointment? Shame? Yoda had spent so long here on the planet, alone with the Force, and his own thoughts. Though the Jedi teachings generally frown upon dwelling on the past, there wasn't much else for the Jedi Master to do.

"Thought we knew so much. Perhaps, wrong we were. About many things. Love, even. Where we failed Anakin Skywalker, may have..."
"Another, please." said Adam said, putting his glass down, which the droid filled up with whatever it was they were calling booze. He thought he had seen a few of the mechanics making it in the cargo holds out of motor oil and battery acid.

Rebel frigates were generally lacking in creature comforts, but at least the Courageous had a functioning bar. The Nebulon B class had been the home of Raptor Squadron for at least a few weeks now, serving as a place to rest between raids against the Empire. The raids were good for morale, but even Adam knew that they weren't even inconveniencing the Imperials. For every ship they destroyed, there were always a dozen more to take it's place. Despite his success and recognition, Adam had never felt more miserable. Too many botched missions and lost friends, not to mention the lack of sleep.

Every time Adam tried to sleep, he dreamed of Kijani. They were pleasant at first, but recently became more... sinister. Maybe it was the force, telling him something. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Either way, he had tried to contact Kijani's father at least three times to talk about it, but to no avail. He was always not around or busy with something important.

"Did you shave?" said a voice from behind him. Adam didn't even need to turn his head to see who it was.

Sheydin Freuta, Raptor Leader, was a Mirialan woman, a few years older than Adam. A career pilot, she had applied for the Imperial Academy three times and was rejected without any reason given. As the Rebel Alliance gained strength, she signed up, just to be happy to fly. Adam and his commanding officer had become good friends over the last few weeks, sharing a drinks and stories more than once after a successful flight.

Adam sheepishly touched his chin, finding it completely bare. "It was bugging me." he said, quick to think up an excuse. Sheydin just rolled her eyes and took a seat next to him.

"I heard you got denied by Bail Organa again. Maybe he just wants to ignore you?" she said as she ordered her own drink.

"Yea." Adam said. "I wish I could just go to Kijani, but I don't even know if she wants to see me. And I can't call her on the comm, since the high command put in it's security protocols."

"Well, what's stopping you from just getting in your fighter and just going?" Sheydin said, mischievously. Adam laughed just laughed.

"Are you kidding? Leaving the squadron without orders? I'd get labeled a deserter!" The Jedi quickly downed his drink. "Besides, I don't even know if she wants to see me. Our last conversation did not go great."

"Well, in that case..." Sheydin said, taking a drink and sitting up straight. "Lieutenant Skywalker! I order you to regroup with Kijani Organa and do not return here without a detailed report! Is that understood?"

Adam bit his lip to suppress his laughter, but snapped off a salute. "Yes, mam!" said Adam before leaving the bar and heading to his X-wing.
Mentions: @RedXIII @DragonofTheWest @Raylah

Joshua nearly got a word in before Father Stone raised his voice over the din of the crowd. The preacher stood next to Joshua and raised his arms to be seen by everyone.

"Fighting is pointless, my children!" he said, as if this was another normal sermon. "We must put our faith in the Lord! Only his mercy can save us now!" A few of the weaker willed townsfolk nodded in agreement.

"Would you rather hide and wait for death?" Joshua said, trying to regain control of the crowd. "It doesn't matter why they are here. All we know is that they coming and we need to be ready for them! If you want to hide, then I won't stop you!" With that, Father Stone turned away, leading a few of the townsfolk away towards the church.

Damn Cowards. Josh thought to himself, shaking his head. At least they weren't his problem anymore. "Everyone else, come on up and get heeled." He said, stepping off his box and opening the door to the sheriff's office. Inside were a whole mess of guns and enough ammo to last til judgement day, Josh hoped.

"You three, come over here." the Sheriff said, pulling Christina, Jack and Achilles away from the rest of the group, letting the rest of the townsfolk to fend for themselves.

"I don't know about you, Christina, but you two look like you can handle yourselves. Either way, I might need your help. Can you all ride?"
When Kijani pushed the door of Yoda's small hut open, Yoda already had some more tea brewing. Yoda smiled and offered Kijani a seat and a blanket.

"Strong in the force, this planet is. Shows much, it does. To those who see answers." he said, offering her more tea. "Three paths before you, it seems. A choice that only you can make. Your future, this choice represents. So, what will it be?"

As he spoke, Yoda laid out a few more blankets, none of which were exactly sized for Kijani. "Stay here, if you like. Run back to your camp freezing, you need not."

Prince Eskel returned to his ship, this time without mishap. He was tired, dirty and a little disheartened. He was no coward, but he didn't know how to fight like Kijani wanted. He was really impressed by this girl, but how could he win this woman over having never even thrown a punch?

He pondered this as he laid in his bunk after a nice long shower. He nearly felt the grip of sleep take him when he heard the door open to his cabin. He didn't know exactly who it was, but judging from their shadowy outline, it looked like one of his guards.

"Sorry, my lord, but we have orders." said the man in the door. After that, all Eskel could see was the pulsating blue circle of a stun bolt.
With the prospect of public speaking before him, Josh suddenly found himself wishing for the undead hordes to return. At least the zombies wouldn't care if he embarrassed himself. Still, this was what he signed up for, so he found a decently sized soapbox to stand on. Those who looked on were terrified, but they still looked to him for guidance.

"Alright, everyone." Joshua began simply enough. Best to look at least somewhat confident, even if he didn't feel it. "I'm sure you all heard, but the Devil himself is coming to town in seven days. The mayor is dead and running is pointless. I'm sure the telegraph lines are already cut, so we can't expect any help." A quiet murmur fell over the crowd, which Josh ended with a quick raise of his arms.

"That leave us with two choices. You can lock your doors and hide, which I won't judge you for. I, on the other hand, would rather die on my feet." At that, the cacophony of noise erupted from the crowd. The townsfolk yelled at the sheriff as well as each other. The sheriff raised his arms again, and the townsfolk took a little longer to get quiet.

"Like I said, if you want to hide under your bed and wait for this to be over, I won't blame you. However, anyone who wants to stand and fight, step forward and I'll deputize you."
"I..." Eskel said, trying to find words after Kijani told him what to expect. He tried not to let his fear and disappointment show. "I understand." He finally said, setting resolve on his face. "I'm not much for violence, but I will think on what you have said."

With that, he rose from the table and bowed as deeply as he was able in the confined space. "I will return to my ship for now. I hope to speak with you again in the morning."

Once he was out the door, Yoda came to sit at the small table near Kijani. "Fine young man, he is. Means well he does." With a wry smirk, he looked to his Padawan.

"Wish for him to be Adam, perhaps?" Yoda said teasingly.
The battle raged on for only a few moments more, as the modest horde of undead was shot to pieces. When there were only a few shambling corpses left, a few of the survivors quickly finished them off. Rutherford, amidst the chaos, had vanished.

Sheriff Joshua slid his revolver back in his holster as he looked through the corpses of those killed in the attack. He thought he had seen the mayor go down during the fight, but Josh needed to make sure. If he was truly dead, that would make Joshua the leading town official. Not that anyone else would want the job of managing a town that was one week from literally going to hell.

Once he made sure the mayor was gone, Joshua made his way to his office. A few of the townspeople were still milling about. Some attempted to clean up the corpses, while many other simply sat, guns held close.

This town was doomed, and everyone knew it. But even Joshua, as terrified as he was, knew that he would rather go down swinging than wait patiently for the devil to arrive. Hopefully, many in town felt the same way. After putting the word out that an emergency meeting would take place outside his office, he opened up his gun locker. Every weapon he ever confiscated or came across in his duties as a lawman would now be used to arm the the town.
The chaos erupted all at once around Josh, and he soon found himself firing along with the others. Knock Knock kicked hard against the sheriff's shoulder, and the heavy buckshot slammed hard into a zombie. With both barrels empty, he opened the breach to reload a pair of fresh shells. As he broke the shotgun open, he suddenly felt it ripped from his hands and onto the muddy ground. The stock was completely shattered.

Josh looked up at the now thinning horde of zombies and saw the man in black, with his nasty looking colt firmly in his hands. With his black hat tilted up, Josh got a good look at the man's rotted face. Even after years of decay and ruin, the sheriff still recognized it from nearly every dime novel and penny dreadful he read as a boy.

It was Clayton Rutherford.

If you believed the old tales, Clayton was a Confederate guerilla, killing pro-union folk from Kansas to Colorado. Some say he was killed not far from Longwater, shot in the back by his own men. Either way, he was staring down the sheriff, murder in his murky dead eyes.

Even over the din of gunfire, no bullet seemed to pierce the revenant. He spoke with a voice that everyone in town could hear clearly.

"This is but a taste of the hell that awaits you, folks. he said with a thick southern drawl. "The Devil is on his way, and in seven days, his train will pull into the station. After that, no angel in heaven will give you mercy. If you fight, you will die. If you run, you will die. If you submit... well, you'll still die, but it won't be as painful as the other two options.

Clayton brought his boney fingers to his lips and blew, bringing a stallion of black fire into view. You can pray, for all the good it will do you. Every night, you will be met with horrors worse than this. You only have yourselves to blame for this. With that, he tilted his hat forward and road off into the morning, leaving the rest of his undead to attack the towns folk.

After the ghost-man rode off, and Joshua came back to his senses. He drew his pistol and joined the rest of the townsfolk still fighting. The sheriff could see the old soldier, Colm, not far off. "Still want a job, old timer?"

Obviously shes a time traveler.
"Private?" Josh said, crossing his arms. Colm looked a little old to be a private, but if he managed to make it all the way to retirement, then he was likely a very good soldier. Still, he looked a little shaky.

"Look, friend. I'm sure you're very qualified, but this looks like simple grave-robbery. In spite of the odd circumstances, anyway. If it gets worse, I'll be sure to-" said Josh before he was cut off by a scream. Then another. Then a dozen more.

The Sheriff instinctually reached for his shotgun and made sure it was loaded before running outside past Colm. "We will discuss this later!" he yelled back to the old soldier.

Standing tall at the far end of town, past the saloons and underneath the shadow of a massive water tower, were a horde of the dead. Still dressed in their Sunday best, they unmoving throng were still familiar to those residents of Longwater who remembered them. At their head, pacing back and forth, was a tall man in a long black duster. On his hip sat an old Colt that still looked dangerous in spite of it's rust.

When Josh pushed his way pass the onlookers, he leveled his shotgun at the man and the mass of corpses behind him. The Sheriff tried to call out, demand an explanation, but found his throat to be completely dry. All he could do was stare in horror at the impossible sight laid out before him.
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