View Full Version : Multi Writer Story "Visions of Darckness"

Jax Nova
24 October 2005, 10:13 AM
To start off I would just like to welcome anyone who want's to write and ask that you keep it clean please.

The basic story line is about a young man, who finds himself without memory of his past, locked up in a prison, and moves on to find he is force sensative. He later, after breaking out of prison deals with the age old strugle between the dark side of the force, and the light side. In the midle of all this termoil he fights for the freedom of the galexy allong with a raticle group of Rebels. ( time line in Starwars is after Luke has started the Jedi training on Yavin 4 )

That is the loos story line I was wanting to follow, but feal free to throw in any twists you would like.

Jax Nova

Jax Nova
24 October 2005, 10:22 AM
(Sorry if the spelling isn't that good)

Visions of Darkness.

Total darckness covered the view, the smell of death hung in the air. Upon opening his eyes the young man that lay in the cold dongion had no recolection of who he was, or where he was. His only memories were of working hear, for theese people who called themselves the Remnent.
His raged cloths were riped and torn, showing there age and hard life. Underneath them lay a six foot form, with long black hair, green eyes, and a muscular build. His sun-tanned skin matching his dirt pasted clothing, and high top boots.

Jax Nova
24 October 2005, 11:43 AM
It was five houres into the night, the cool, stuffy air stiring in his cell. As he lay on the ground alarms filled the night, men shouted, and weapons fired. Somone was attacking!
All theese nights and days he had labored, worked himself to the limit. And now, this could be his chance to get away from it all. All he had to do was escape, in the confusion of battle no one would notice.
To his advantage the guards came move him from his cell. Without saying a word they opened the locked door and drug him out. His limp body being drug along the ground behind them as they hurried to escape the horrors of war.
"Prisoner 525" had decieved them. With his full strength he threw on man against the brown brick wall, while grabing the other around the neck. His left hand grabed at the guards gun, and fiding the triger cut down the second man before he could get a shot off. The resounding sounds of the blaster earned no notice from the local security that had it's hands full with the oncomming attack. Moments later the remaining man fell to the ground, unconcious.

30 October 2005, 10:36 AM
Prisoner 525, blaster rifle in hand, cut across the yard and sheltered in the shadows of a building closer to the gate.

He was resolved to escape or die trying. The torture at the hands of his captors had been severe, and his mind screamed, "Get out!"

But how?

Search lights swung across the blackness, and blaster bolts strobed the night sky. The towers at the gate rained fire on unseen enemies beyond the wall. Somewhere, a low rumble built, and then the towers and entry gate expanded into balls of flame and shattered ferrocrete, two wish-bone shaped starfighters flashing low across the sky in the wake of the red and orange plumes.

A hole. A chance. The realization shot through the entirety of prisoner 525's body.

But it was a dangerous chance.

Imperial survivors of the Y-wing bombing run sprinted and stumbled away from the destruction, seeking new cover. One guard stumbled in the direction of 525, at first assuming an ally, but when he saw the young man's garb and wild looks, realization set in, and the guard swiftly raised his rifle.

Prisoner 525, his back against the wall of the outbuilding, fired, and fired again. The guard fell, a blaster bolt through the chest, and others ducked or hit the dirt as 525 sprayed the open compound, and then sprinted for the new opening in the wall.

Jax Nova
31 October 2005, 10:29 AM
His frantic heart raced as he ran for the opening. He dodged in and out of the debris, jumping left, then right, then finally jumping out the opening in the wall. He was free!
But his troubles, it appeared were far from over as a large company of armed men ran towards him. “Don’t move!” they screamed after him. 525 ignored them totally as he shot off into the nearby woods, closely followed by the assembly of men.
525 ran through the trees, ducking under low branches, and jumping over fallen branches. The men were right behind him, he had to get free! He headed for a large river in the distance, the moonlight shimmering on the surface. “If I can make it to the river, and swim down stream, then I could loose them,” 525 thought to himself.
He ran all out, only ten more meters to go! But then, at the last moment the way was shut. Several armed men stood in front of him, guns pointed at him. “Drop to the ground!” a man shouted. Behind him prisoner 525 could hear the throbbing steps of his pursuers. “Search him. Take his gun,” orders were thrown out as 525 stared into the weeds.
“Take him back to cap with the rest of the prisoners,” yet another order. “Yes sir,” came the prompt reply. 525 was lifted to his feet and led gentely along. Taken back to the destroyed base, and to a small camp not far outside.
These men, there clothing, there mannerism, they were not impirial. But why then were they taking him as a prisoner? It didn’t add up. Were these the ones who attacked the base? And if so, what reasons would they have to hold him? Questions filled 525’s mind.
The soldiers took 525 to a small holding cell that sat on the far side of the camp. There he saw many of the imperials from the base also encaged. The door was opened, and he was placed inside, locked safely inside. Still wondering, and still asking questions in his mind.
The night faded away into a shadow of blackness as he drifted off to sleep. Despite the ongoing periodic outbursts of gun fire, explosions, and shouts that filled the air from time to time. His body was tired, his eyes heavy.
The next morning he woke as his cell door was unlocked by one of the guards that stood by. “Come on lets go,” the man ordered him, motioning with his gun. 525 stepped out of the cell and followed the man’s lead until they came to an open area where all the imperials had been lined up.
“You are all soldiers of the empire, and have been charged with countless crimes against humanity. You will be taken and held as prisoners of war until such time as we decide otherwise,” a man standing in front of the group announced.
The man’s eyes seemed to center in on 525, “Who is this? He doesn’t look like an imperial,” the man noted the shaby clothing and filthy appearance. “We chased him down in the woods last night, he was carrying an imperil rifle sir,” one man from the far right stepped forward. “Bring him to my camp, I wish to talk to him,” the man instructed. “Yes sir,”

3 November 2005, 06:06 PM
If you don't mind...

The former Prisoner 525 was led to a medium-sized camouflaged tent. A pair of Arconans carrying blaster rifles flanked the entrance.

The Nautolan guard escorting 525 waited for the commander to enter, then pulled him inside.

(No time for more, at the moment.)

Jax Nova
4 November 2005, 11:31 AM
Inside the camofluadged tent a sirious discution was being held. Was 525 a member of the Imperial Remnent, or was he not?
The conversation went on long into the night, somewhat heated at times. 525 however, was calm, realizing that showing his emotions would not help him.

4 November 2005, 11:56 AM
(If you dont mind my input :D )

He found himself in the middle of the tent, still flanked by gaurds, stareing accross a crude wooden desk made from a plank and some storage boxes. Behind the desk, the Commander Kooke sat in the plain folding chair that his wife had purchased as lawn furniture before the war. Without realizing he was doing it, Prisoner 525 had already sized up this man, and his guards. He had already calculated his chances for escape, decided on the most likly places to find weapons that are ready for use, and noticed the outline of a conceled blast vest bairly pushing on the surface of the cammanders uniform. He did all this in a few seconds. In that same space of time, he calculated it would be better to at least hear what they have to say.

Finally Kooke looked directly at him, "Name?"

"Prisoner 525 sir.", came the crisp reply.

"Your real name?"

His mouth began to open then closed again, making him look like a fish out of water. He tried again, and again the words would not come. Not because he wasn't able to, but because he couldn't remember. No one had asked him his real name for so many years. "Who am I?", his mind screamed for an answer, but there was only silence after the question.

Kooke looked to an aid who was busy checking ammuntion containers and said, "Lets get Psi-Ops in here, looks like we got another one."

"Sir.", was the only reply and the aid let the tent.

"Psi-Ops!", Prisoner 525's mind screamed danger! He had to escape before more of the brain butchers got there hands on him. Even though he didn't remeber his name, he remebered the hospital, and the pain. So much pain.

"Don't worry son, we'll get you fixed right up. I don't know what they did to you, or how long you've been in there, but I promise we'll do our level best to find out.", Kooke said with a mixture sympathy and determination.

Prisoner 525 could only nod. His mind was racing, but he just could not wrap his thoughts around the events of the day. Were these people, these aliens who worked with humans, were they friend or foe? Or maybe they were niether? Kooke had a look on his face. Was it concern? He just didn't know. What he did know was that he needed more information before he acted again, so he would wait, and watch.

"What can you tell me?" asked Kooke.

"My name is Prisoner 525. I was interned at the penial facility Hells Passage twelve years, three months, and six days ago, local time. You gaurds are inadequite to defend this facility from the unit's located farther up the valley. They will return in two nights, sooner if they were contacted. I am good prisoner, I will cause no trouble.".

The last part was a lie and they both knew it.

Kooke looked at the man, and could see an iron will. It would bend, but would never break. Not that he wished to break the man, or anyone else. The Rebels, just like the Empire, had specialsts for that.

Another aid enetered and handed Kooke a file printed on flimsplast sheets. Prisoner 525 reconized it as his file. They must have sent for it the moment he told them who he was. "Does it say my name?", he asked.

Jax Nova
4 November 2005, 12:27 PM
( we never mind anyones imput. Feel free!)

Kooke looked into the disc as if it were a lake, reacing into the heart and soul of the earth. His eyes seemed to be robed of there life, a blank expresion sat solidly on his face.

"Sir?" a guard broke the silence.

Kooke's eyes looked up with ht motion of his head. "It says your name is Sian Kein." Kooke started, "You have been here a long time, ten years it seems." "What else does it say?" Sian asked him.
The man looked into his eyes with firmness and answered. "You were from Ossus. By there calculations you would be twenty three years old this year. The rest is all medical informatioin. I cna have it forworded to you if you owuld like."

Sian could tell that the commader was hiding someting from him, somthing important. Somehow, somthing inside of him called out. Like a voice in his mind, but vague, distant, but reliable.

"My men will escort you to your new lodging," commander Kooke informed him. Sian noded in recognition and then followed his escort out the door.

"What is it?" asked a young Bothan that stood tothe right of the commanders desk.

"Nothing...." he replied. "I know you well enough to know that that isn't true, sir. I am not your personal aid without reason." the Bothan replied crisply. "Right you are." Kooke breathed a heavy breath. "Something on his records?" the inquiery continued. "They said he was a Jedi Padawan," Kooke said, looking into his eyes through the darkness.

5 November 2005, 12:45 PM
(Simultaneously as the revelation, in the high atmosphere.)

A pair of TIEs were patrolling. After the Y-Wings had breached the aerial perimeter and the prisoner facility had been attacked, the local commander, one Sarus Garant, had ordered the perimeter diameter increased to give them more of a warning if the Rebels were attacked again. This, of course, necessitated that more TIEs were in the sky at one time, with less time for sleeping. Which meant that two pilots form Slagsmash Squadron, officially the 333's 4 squadron, were patrolling in high atmosphere half asleep.

Slagsmash 10: "11, you still awake?"

Slagsmash 11: "No, Slen, I'm not."

Slen: "Only half an hour left. Then we can sleep for six."

Slagsmash 11: "What fun."

Slen: "Look, Creg, its better than that post on the Snarler. At least here we don't have Major Klunk breathign down our necks."

Creg: "Not by much."

Unnoticed by the two pilots, who were allowing the autopilot on their modified TIEs to fly for them, six small blips appeared on their aft sensor monitor, then accelerated.

Slen: "I hope those long range sensors get delivered soon. Just our luck; on the first day of our deployment here three weeks ago they up and short circuit, and suddenly the commander needs TIE patrols 21/5."

Creg: "At least we get some fli-"

His transmission was broken off when twin ion bursts slammed into the oblivious pilots' crafts from behind, instantly disabling everything. By some strange twist of luck, the shallow trajectory of the TIEs' fall ended at the prison camp.

Mere seconds later the North Tower abbruptly exploded as Slen's TIE plowed into it. Creg's TIE's right wing actually touched one Stromtrooper's helmet as it flew over the wall, and the Stormie's head disappeared. His otherwise undamaged body and armor collapsed. The final landingspot of Creg's TIE was the prisoner's mess, occupied only two Imperial cooks. The mess was blown apart.

Cobra 2, Velo Sarrant: "Commander, it looks like our target has been illuminated."

Cobra Lead, Commander Conrad Darron: "Remeber, just hit the towers and the anti-aircraft turret. We can't risk killing prisoners. The TIEs were a lucky break. That means don't expect another one." Darron desperately hoped that his Y-Wings would be able to go through this mission witohut casualties. Darron knew that he would survive, with a certainty that ran deep into his core of being. That didn't mean he'd be lazy or anything, though. The more efficient he was, the more likely his pilots would all survive and the more likely some of the prisoners would be able to escape. Darron had used all his clout to get a second chance at this prison, and if nobody escaped he'd look bad.

Jax Nova
7 November 2005, 10:47 AM
Down on the ground the Rebels watched as there Y-wings sored overhead in the darkening sky. Back and forth they flew, taking fast passes at there targets.

Cobra lead came in for a pass at the nearest ainti-air turrets, blasting his way by.

The Emperial base was deserted, not more than a few troopers remained. But the prisons were full, and the men inside were mostly inocent, some even fellow Rebels.

"I got it!" came the joyfull sounds from Cobra lead as the ainti-iar turret burst into flames.

"This is Cobra two comming in from the right," came another call.

The guns on Cobra two's ship litt up, letting loose there furry and showering the target below. "This is Cobra two, target destroyed!" Came the exited reply.

8 November 2005, 03:11 PM
Commander Darron took careful aim at a running figure who looked like an Imperial officer. He depressed the trigger, and Sarus Garant wash it in the torso form behind. His fallen form crackled with the energy of a full-power ion blast. As his limbs spasmed randomly, Darron laed the onslaught on the gate to the camp. The gates destroyed, the towers wrecked, the guards killed, the commander ionized, and the guards' barracks destroyed when a trio fo stormtroopers dashed out and tried to set up an E-Web, Cobra 'Squadron' pulled up and headed for space.

Jax Nova
9 November 2005, 05:11 PM
Down on the ground the Rebel troops were surrounding the base to prevent any Empirial

"Lieutenant, take two groups to the north side and set up a thin barrier. Try take them
alive, but do what you have to." Commander Kooke ordered. "Yes sir!"

Men ran around as orders were being shouted out. Sian Kein looked out of his tent at the
men working frantically to achieve military precision. The sounds of footsteps running
past, shouts, and equipment filled the air. Along with the ever present background noise
of the Y-wings above the base.

Sian could smell smoke, and could feel the fear, and excitement in the men as if a portal
to there emotions were opened to him. For the first time in a long time he felt free, in
control, at peace.

"Take the artillery to the south!" came a shout from his right.

"Sir, you need to stay inside you’re tent." a passing man informed him.

Sian nodded and walked back inside. But still he could feel the emotions, he could sense
the intent, and could hear the sounds. His mind was fixed

Jax Nova
1 December 2005, 07:13 AM
But then, something inside Sian clicked, trigerd a siries of visions.

He fell back on the ground as a world of enormous trees filled his view.

The sounds from outside were drown out with the sounds from his vision. The same sounds, sounds of war, sounds of death.

He stood in the midle of the sceen with a glowing sword, cutting down numerous men that came at him wave after wave.

His motions blured into the darkness of the world, he attacks fading into the faces that fell to the ground.

His bright blue blade contrasting the dark green and blakness of the seemingly sunless world.

The scen grew farther and farther away, like a boat drifting into the distance on a sea of water. The sides closing in with pitch black. Until all was cut from his mind.

What seemed like moments later he woke in the medical center. The vision in his mind gone, but the image and memory carved in like aname in stone.

Jax Nova
6 December 2005, 07:27 AM
.... I think it's dying. Or dead even.:?

6 December 2005, 01:16 PM
Thats one of the problems with writing hot. Its great for shorts but there is no way you can write a novel with out a LOT of planning and what seems like fourty billion re-writes. Same reason why my untilted story is taking so long. Not that it isn't interesting (to me anyway).

The problem I have when posting is that I want every post to be great. Even the best books have there slow parts, and I just don't want to post something that seems slow or boring, no matter neccesarry it may be to the story. Well... that me anyway :) but you are getting MUCH better, and even if you stop this thread, KEEP WRITTING! :D

Jax Nova
7 December 2005, 02:57 PM
Thnx. I wouldn't quit writing... It's just TOO FUN!! hehe.

Yeah, it kind of makes it a little harder when you don't know what the story line is because you never know what anyone is going to throw in.

But I like it that way because it uses you imagination more. so anyway.

7 December 2005, 04:00 PM
But I like it that way because it uses you imagination more. so anyway.

Thats what makes it so great. One of my writing exercises that I use is to write hot at least 3 times a week. Even if it's not related to any other stroy fragment. After a month or so, I re-read all my little pieces of a story then see what elements I can use to create a larger story. I find it both relaxing and addictive. :)

Jax Nova
8 December 2005, 01:40 PM
Hm.... That sounds interesting.

Could get some colorfull writing if you fit the corect things together.

8 December 2005, 10:32 PM
You wouldn't believe the number of really good stories you get doing that.

Jax Nova
9 December 2005, 09:26 AM
Yeah, I could imagin.

Jax Nova
13 December 2005, 02:18 PM
Well, if no one is going to write I supose this could just be deleated.