Monday, March 24, 2008

Cop-Out: A Star Wars Short Story (Story 1)

So, I've decided that for my final project in my Star Wars class, I'm going to write a few short stories revolving around the life and times of my created character, Akker. (I'm also planning on asking my friend Alex to perhaps do a couple illustrations for it). Since I realize it will be quite the process, I wanted to get some of it done ahead of time. So, I'm working on it during Spring Break.

(Quick aside: While there are only a few [literally, like, three] RAs here right now [and nearly no residents], we're actually having a fun time.)

So, I just completed one of the short stories, and then I thought to myself, "Hey, why don't I show this on my blog rather than write something new?" So that's exactly what I decided to do. It may not make much sense by itself, as it's part of a larger thing, but whatever. I've included links for explanations to any Star Wars information.

Also, I apologize for any misspellings. I didn't even bother with a spell check. When you're writing a Star Wars story, it seems as though half the page is underlined in red.


The coliseum was abuzz with life. The first half of the events had been completed, and there was another hour before the second half began. The smells of roasting womp rat filled the halls. It was a salty smell, drenched in some unknown sauce. Just letting the aroma reach your nostrils made one’s mouth water.

“Beautiful…” Uthor muttered under his breath. Salivation was his friend, as those liquids would need to be replaced. And what better way to hydrate a mouth than with a pitcher of Uthor’s special blend Fizzbrew. The stout man mentally counted the customers standing in the line for his stand while pouring glass after glass. At this rate, he’d be able to get transit fare before the second half.

Suddenly, Uthor saw a somewhat short figure running up from the side. Normally, he wouldn’t pay any mind, but the figure, wearing nothing but a battle shirt and a few leg wrappings, was instantly recognizable. In fact, it was the reason he was able to get the gig here at the Arcopola Coliseum.

“U-THOR!” The figure shouted with a exuberant smile and index fingers pointing to the merchant.

“Akk-ER!” Uthor responded in kind before placing the One Moment, Please sign on the stand. He stepped away from his post and turned to his friend, “What’s going on?”

Akker quickly blew a few locks of hair from in front of his eyes. He then smiled at Uthor. “You’re betting on my match, right.”

Uthor was dumbfounded. “What are you talking about?” he said, “I never bet on the matches. You know that.”

“Nonononono. That wasn’t a question. You are betting on my match.”

“Why? I have Fizzbrew to sell.”

“Pah! You keep selling at gigs like this, you’ll never get anywhere. By the looks of it, the most you’re going to get by the second half will barely cover transit fare.”

“Well, yes, but…”

“Uthor, have you seen my odds for this match?” Akker asked as he pulled a small slip from who-knows-where in his battle skirt. He handed it to Uthor, who instantly recognized it as the event program. It listed all the matches of the day, as well as the betting odds for each. His eyes scrolled down the pamphlet until he reached an entry reading Akker the Fallen Jedi.

“…Twelve-thousand to one!” Uthor shouted in disbelief.

Akker’s sharp-toothed smile widened. “I know, it’s great.”

“What in Gret’s name are you facing?”

“I don’t know! I don’t care! Think about it, Uthor. Wager your stand, and if-”

“Wager my stand?!” Uthor tried to protest, but a claw-like finger was placed over his mouth. Akker cocked his head, which was his body’s way of saying “Shut up.”

After Uthor decided he wasn’t going to argue, Akker continued. “Your stand is worth, what, 5,000 Credits? You wager that, I win, and suddenly, you’re able that full-blown pub you wanted on Telos. Understand where I’m going with this?”

“Well…that’s quite an opportunity.”

“It may be your only opportunity, buddy. The only other time my odds have been above 200-to-1 was when they had that typo on the program for the Tatooine Slaughter.”

Uthor remembered that time, but didn’t laugh like he usually would. This cart was his only means of income. It was his livelihood. How could he just wager it, even if it was on one of the greatest fighter’s he’d ever known. He was never much of a risk-taker. He looked into Akker’s slate gray eyes, so full of confidence and excitement. Well, Uthor thought, what’s one more risk. “Okay,” he said aloud, “I’m in.”

Akker lit up like a supernova. “Great!” He rushed to the Fizzbrew stand, tore off the One Moment, Please sign and replaced it with the one that said, quite simply, Closed. There was some commotion amongst the customers.

“What are you doing?” grunted the Gamorrean standing in the front of the line, “I’ve been waiting here for ten minutes.”

“Judging by your looks, I’ll say it was a ten minutes not wasted.”

“What?! I’ll crush you, you little punk!” The Gamorrean grabbed Akker by the throat and began to squeeze.

And that’s when Akker’s eyes shot open.

They didn’t bulge like a man suffocating, but rather a man possessed. His mouth curled upward from ear to pointed ear, brandishing a multitude of demon-like teeth in a psychotic smile. Akker’s arms shot out and grabbed the Gamorrean by his garments. Akker quickly pulled in, smashing the Gamorrean’s face against his own. The Gamorrean yelped in pain. Akker briefly gave his arms some slack before pulling their faces together again. And again. And again. Before long, the Gamorrean’s face was smashed and silent, while Akker’s was covered in a yellowish blood. His bulging, bloodshot eyes closed, and a moment passed before they reopened, perfectly normal. He looked at the rest of the customers.

“We’re closed. Have a nice day.”

The crowd scattered without a word. Akker looked back at Uthor. “Okay, so remember, wager it all on me.”

“Gotcha,” Uthor responded. As his friend walked away, though, he called out, “Ak-KER! …What if you lose?”

Akker responded as he always did: with a smile. “I don’t want to sound mean, but it doesn’t matter whether or not you have the stand. If I die, your enterprise is essentially over. See you later!”


Uthor felt uncomfortable sitting here in the stands. There were drinks to be sold. Not that he could sell any, what with the betting office holding his stand in storage. Still, a merchant’s instincts are hard to quell.

However, now was the moment he was waiting for. His life was on the line in this upcoming match, and so he wouldn’t miss it for the world.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and other,” a voice boomed over the speakers surrounding the coliseum, “We have a special treat for you today. We’re sure you’ve heard of Akker, the Fallen Jedi, as he’s made his rounds on the Blood Circuit. He especially made his name with his antics during the Tatooine Slaughter. Well, let’s welcome him to the Arcopola Coliseum!

The was a uncontrollable din within the coliseum as people cheered and jeered. Entering from a small door, Akker sauntered with his customary swagger. He blew kisses to one side of the audience while thrusting his hips at the other side. Uthor, unsure of how to act, simply clapped his hands a few times.

“Now, while on Tatooine, Akker’s betting odds were misprinted at 3,000-to-1. Now, you may have thought that our odds were also misprinted. We can assure you, they were not. However, if you think that you can make a quick fortune by betting on this fallen Jedi, you’ve got another thing coming.

“What?” Uthor said, filled with a sudden sense of worry.

“That’s because Akker’s opponent is no mere fighter. We got something…special for him. And let’s see what it is!”

Suddenly, a large section of the coliseum floor began to open up, and an underground platform began to raise. Sitting atop that platform was the largest beast that Uthor had ever seen. While not an expert at animals, he recognized it as a drexl, the apex predator of Onderon. Its wings were lashed behind its back, presumably to keep it from flying away. The beast itself seemed to be dressed in armor, which struck Uthor as odd, seeing as a 25-meter beast shouldn’t even need such protection. And it was facing his best friend.

“Oh, no…”


“Oh, yes!” Akker said to himself. He could smell weeks’ worth or rotting flesh coming from the drexl’s teeth, but nothing fresher. This baby was hungry.

But it was also big. Too big to fight with his normal methods. No, simple bloodlust was ineffective here. He would, more than likely, have to go to his backup plan: the lightsaber.

“Say, Akker!” He heard the announcer say. He was a little surprised at first; announcers didn’t usually converse with fighters.


“This beast is too big to fight with your normal methods. Perhaps, as a fallen Jedi, you should use your lightsaber.

“Ha! Great minds think alike, and all that,” Akker said, making no attempt to hide his sarcasm. He didn’t like how much they were playing up the whole “Fallen Jedi” angle. Made him seem like some sort of chump.

Suddenly, the drexl’s head came racing down. Akker jumped away just in time, so that the beast’s face slammed onto the sandy floor of the coliseum. Akker then took out his lightsaber and turned it on. It’s black blade hummed like a good Twi’lek masseuse. It would make short work of the drexl. With a deft movement, Akker swung the lightsaber upon the beast’s forehead. It should have split its skull in two.

Should have.

And yet, here the drexl stood, its skull quite intact.


“It’s not going to be that easy Akker. You see, that armor is forged from Mandalorian Iron. Impenetrable, even by a lightsaber.

“Hey now!” Akker yelled back, not sure where the announcer was located, “Thanks for letting me know after I got into the fight.”

“We don’t give 12,000-to-1 odds for nothing, Akker.”

“Well-” Akker began, but was cut off by a huge backhand slap by the drexl, which sent him flying. He slammed into the wall, sending dust and chips of cement into the air. This snapped him back into the present. Akker fell to his feet and stared at the drexl. He then closed his eyes for a moment before opening them as wide as possible.

And then he could see the beast behind the armor. Or rather, the Force which made up the beast. Appearing as though swirls of crude paint, he could see its every movement, its every tendency. As far as he knew, no other Jedi, fallen or straight, could see the Force like this, save for his dead master. Unfortunately, all he could ascertain was that he wouldn’t be able to get through the armor with any physical force.

Mental forces were a different matter.

For the past month or so, Akker had been experimenting with a new technique. Any Jedi worth their salt knew how to manipulate and move things with their mind. But what if you could do that on a molecular level. In theory, it’s simple: move two molecules away from each other. Do that enough and whatever you’re focusing on loses its molecular structure. Yes, in theory it’s simple, but it takes some work in practice. Akker, whose unique way of perceiving the force allowed him a better sense of the location of even individual molecules, had tested the technique on rocks and small lizards, turning them into nothing more than piles of goop.

A drexl…that would take a bit more work.

However, Akker was always up for a challenge. He ran around the coliseum, avoiding the claws and teeth of the enormous beast. Careful not to waste too much energy, he bided his time until the drexl’s head came straight toward him. Akker jumped into the air and landed on the faceplate of the drexl. He then focused. Hard. He visualized as many of the countless molecules comprising the drexl’s body as he possibly could. One by one in rapid succession, he pulled them from their place, sending them flying.

Akker heard the drexl shriek. He could feel it bucking its head to and fro. Barely. He was too focused on his current work to care about anything else. He couldn’t tell how much time was passing in his current state. It could have been second, it could have been a half-hour. All Akker knew was that, sure enough, the drexl was sinking to the ground.

After the last molecule was torn from place, Akker closed his eyes. He allowed his vision to go back to its normal capacity, and reopened his eyes. When he looked, he saw that the drexl’s indestructible armor was still intact, even if it was in a heap. Underneath it, he could see a sticky lake of purplish gel which was the drexl’s new form.

“Force…dissolution. That’s a good name for the technique,” Akker said to himself, smiling. He could barely even hear that, though, amongst the deafening chaos that had overtaken the stadium from his victory.


Argen Vise, the owner of the Arcopola Coliseum, was pacing back and forth. “I hope you’re happy, Akker. Do you know how many people placed a bet on you?”

“I don’t fight so people bet on me. I fight to fight.”

“People put novelty bets on you. They figured it would be good for a laugh. Instead, it’s like a lottery that everyone wins! There’s even some merchant I have to pay some sixty million credits to!”

Akker smiled when hearing that. He sat down in the most comfortable-looking chair and said, “Hey, I didn’t set the odds at 12,000-to-1. Whoever thought of that idea needs to be fired.”

“We’re all fired because of you, you know that! We’re bankrupt! We won’t have any money after paying off these bets. And it’s all because of you.”

“So? A man doesn’t just sit down and let himself die so you can make a profit. At least, I don’t. Like I said, I fight to fight,” he said, staring Vise square in the eyes. “Besides, your demise makes possible the opening of my friend’s new pub. I’m sure he’ll be opening on Telos fairly soon.”

“What do I care about your friend?”

Akker stood up and stepped gingerly toward the door. “Because,” he said with a toothy smile, “If you want to find me, that’s where I’ll be. And Uthor’s a nice guy. I’m sure when he sees you’re down on your luck, he’ll let you have a Fizzbrew on the house.”

And with that, Akker stepped out.

No comments: