ON THE RUN - Kapitel 2 - GERMANKapitel 2ON THE RUN - Kapitel 2 - GERMAN in General Fiction More Like This
„Käpt'n, schau dir die hier mal an. Für die bekommen wir doch sicher was!“ Antares wandte sich um, als er Ferans aufgeregte Stimme hörte. Bisher war die Ausbeute doch eher mager gewesen und er hatte keine Hoffnung, das sein Erster Offizier hier doch noch etwas wertvolles gefunden hatte. Er bereute schon, diesen miesen kleinen Transporter überhaupt angegriffen zu haben. Er hätte eigentlich wissen müssen, das es hier nichts zu holen gab bis auf ein paar Sklaven und nahezu wertlose Frachtgüter. Nicht mal Schmuggelware! Es war zum verrückt werden. Hatte er denn nur noch Pech?
Antares war daher umso überraschter, als statt einer weiteren, verängstigten Menschenfrau ein Zabrak-Mädchen vor ihm stand, das seinem Blick stand hielt. Sie war einen Kopf kleiner als er, hatte einen Wust wilder, roter Locken auf dem Kopf und war auf eine etwas herbe Art und Weise hübsch. Schmale, goldbraune Tätowierungen zierten ihre cremeweisse Haut und Antares war sich sehr sicher, das ihre z
ON THE RUN - Kapitel 3 - GERMANKapitel 3ON THE RUN - Kapitel 3 - GERMAN in General Fiction More Like This
Falleen. Der größtenteils von Dschungel bedeckte Planet sah aus dem Weltall aus wie ein grüner Edelstein, nur stellenweise unterbrachen Wasserflächen das gefleckte Grün der Bewaldung. Von den Städten und den riesigen Fabriken für allerlei Produktion ahnte man nichts, wenn man den Planeten zum ersten Mal im Ausschnitt des Cockpitfensters auftauchen sah. Antares seufzte zufrieden, als sie den Hyperraum verlassen hatten und der Planet in Sicht kam. Endlich wieder zuhause. Die „Prospector“ hatte Reparaturen nötig und er war froh, wenn er die verängstigte Menge Sklaven, ehemals Passagiere des Interflottentransporters, endlich los war. Er hätte sie alle miteinander mit Betäubungsschüssen zum Schweigen bringen können, aber er wollte kein Risiko eingehen. Sie waren wertvoll, würden Credits bringen, die er dringend benötigte. Er hatte seinen Mittelsmann bereits kontaktiert, einen Falleen, der stets gute Sklaven für die Fabriken und Rohstoffminen des Planeten gebrauchen ko
Die Gier(In Extremo – Die Gier)Die Gier in General Fiction More Like This
Wieder steht Jack vor der Flügeltür der Räumlichkeiten, die Una für sich im mandalorianischen Palast auserkoren hat und denkt nach. Was er hier tut, ist eigentlich verdammt gefährlich, aber was soll er tun? Er ist nunmal auf eine fürchterlich altmodische Art und Weise verliebt. Beinahe ist es zum Lachen. Er, der Soldat, ist verknallt wie ein pubertierender Teenager. Seine Kameraden würden ihn bis ans Ende seiner Tage damit aufziehen.
„Guck an, wen haben wir denn da... Jack.“ Er ist so in Gedanken versunken, das er nicht bemerkt, wie sich die rothaarige Zabrak vor ihm aufbaut. Sie ist so klein das sie ihm gerade mal bis an die Schulter reicht und grinst ihm verschmitzt zu. Sie trägt einen Hauch von schwarzem Nichts aus Spitze und Jack ist klar, das sie diese Nacht wohl in den Armen des schweigsamen Savage verbringen wird. Sie hat etwas derbes an sich, diese kleine Verbrecherkönigin, ihr verruc
Serial CodeIt was cold out today, colder than usual anyway, it was always cold out here. He hadnt been home in five years now, but that didnt bother him, at least he was still alive. Unlike many others he was still breathing steam into the freezing atmosphere, still able to feel the bite of the wind on his face, and most importantly, still able to do his job.Serial Code in Science Fiction More Like This
Yes, he could still do that best, no matter where he was, he could still shoot to kill. It was his duty, and what he was told and trained to do. It was this skill that had managed to keep him alive for so long. Hed seen plenty of faces come and go. Friends get killed, or the lucky ones sent home without limbs. But after five years, he stopped paying attention to most of them, too sick of the pain, the sense of loss, and the rage.
When he was still fresh, it was duty that drove him, after a few months it became rage. Anger in
The Fate of the BlasphemerThe Fate of the Blasphemer in Biography & Memoir More Like This
Kevin the Blasphemer, ruler of a thousand worlds, turned warily around the next corner and into a dark stone room. He was lost in an insane game of the gods, trapped in a maze of indefinite dimensions, a test of his faith. Stripped of all but his wit, he carried on. Slowly he felt his way through the dark, damp chamber. Then he heard it, the grinding of stone on stone, the closing of one door and opening of another.
Before him, light poured through the new opening, and he could see what appeared to be the outside world again. But then the image began to ripple and blur as if it was made of some sort of liquid. Out sprung the first of them.
What the fuck?!? said Kevin of the Rokitkas. It was a rat, and upon its back sat a Pygmy Leprechaun wielding a welding torch. Then to his dismay, Kevin noticed that a rocket launcher took the place of this rats face.
The lost fighter The lost fighterThe lost fighter in Sci-Fi More Like This
A Star Wars story by emotionalshadows and MilosAndric
The sun was bright and had a large center filled with yellow and little streaks of red and orange. The planet of Nar Shaddaa, a smuggler’s hideout or place for refuge, was bustling with people of all different species from all across the galaxy. The many bars on the planet’s surface were packed full of Smugglers and Bounty Hunters.
“You seem a little bit worried, Stanton.” A voice from over his shoulder came quickly from nowhere.
“Why do you say that?” Stanton was a smuggler, a rather great one. He had worked for the Sith for over 5 standard years, enough to make a regular man insane, but that was not the man Stanton was. Stanton was a hard-headed man; he rarely became frustrated or nervous. He was always a well-thought man, someone who always thought
JO:OCName: Jaryin NovaJO:OC in Profiles More Like This
Place of birth: Nar Shaddaa
Current age: 28
Height: 6' 2"
Weight: 246 lbs.
Appearance: Jaryin is tall and muscular. His hair is short and chocolate brown. His eyes are a very light green, almost like fresh leaves on a tree. His legs are very long, that is where most of his height comes from. His arms are long as well and very muscular. He has a tattoo on his back, it is the marking of a slave. And then another which is his name in green, the exact same color of his eyes. He has a scar from his elbow to his wrist from a sword slash on Vulta.
Clothing: Jaryin wears a white shirt with a brown jacket and a light brown greatcoat. His pants are tan with brown streaks on the sides. His boots are an odd shade of black, light black but with an odd tint of brown at the same time. He also has a belt with three holsters, one on the left one on the right and one in the back. He also wears a brown regular hat for some style.
Nihilus--Part 4Nihilus--Part 4 in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He heard the order whispered hollowly on his comm unit, knew and trusted the voice that spoke it. The order was a crushing treachery, but it could spark no more hatred from his already bitter heart. His hand moved to the comm without his awareness and he thought he could hear himself screaming, raw disbelief.
"But we're still down here! We're still down here!"
The order was given again, despite his appeals.
"Activate the Mass Shadow Generator."
Those engaged in life-and-death battles around him stopped as his voice discharged over the landscape like the sudden blast of a gun that had been held to your forehead, the voice of one man pushed with injustice after injustice. Their eyes were bloodshot, dirty with guilt and the lives of the thousands they had murdered, wild with the frenzy of adrenaline and the power of unleashing death's hand to any who drew too near. They could not understand why this man would bother shouting when he could be killing. But they came to understand wh
Warhammer 40k PrimerThe Warhammer 40k Primer: describing the numerous factions and races in the Warhammer 40k universeWarhammer 40k Primer in Science Fiction More Like This
By- Kingdoms Shield
It is The 41 millennium. For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the master of mankind by the will of the gods, and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly die.
Yet even in his deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battle fleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the manifestation of the Emperors will. Vast armies give battle in his name on uncounted worlds. Greatest among them are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bio-engineere
Dral'kote Beskar'bor'adDral'kote Beskar'bor'ad in Drama More Like This
Name: Dral'kote Gotal'yaim Beskar'bor'ad
Alias: Night Stalker
Eye Color: Brown/Green
Hair Color: Dark Brown
Born at the end of (Year and Event). The child was raised by Mandalorians parents on the planet Ordo.
Trained from the age of 5, he became a skilled technician and shadow warrior.
Training in the battle circle was something he did regularly. Working on his fathers Basalisk War Droid was something he enjoyed greatly.When he turned 16 he was sent into the desert as a test of survival.
Finding his way home no easy task. Fighting the heat, creatures and eventually making it to the jungle and home.
After completing this task, he was able to make his beskar'gam (helmet and armor).
Two years later his parents gave him gifts, after choosing to travel the galaxy.
His father gave him the modified Basilisk and his mother gave him her Verpine Sniper Rifle
KOTOR: SheKOTOR: She in Fan Fiction More Like This
Donning his battered orange jacket and a worn pair of pants, Admiral Carth Onasi abandoned his military dedication -- and posture -- in attempt to fit in with the crowd. He'd been tracking down various information brokers and well-traveled smugglers with hopes that someone would have news of Revan. Unfortunately, due to his promise, his selection was restricted to whatever scum was stupid enough to work in whatever Republic territory he was stationed at.
In this instance, he had been recommended the services of an up-and-coming Bothan sludge news reporter who seemed to know more about the celebrities she was stalking than their own mothers. He'd reviewed the reports local authorities had filed against her and found it incredibly easy to predict what nightclub she would make her next appearance at. Driven by the desire for information and the need for a stiff drink, he found himself seated next to her at the club's strategically lit bar.
Despite the fact that her fur was dyed in a manne
KotOR: Carth And The Fangirl It was a quiet evening in the happy world of BioWareLand. Carth, Revan and Mission were walking up and down the hallways of the large office building, discussing how the game designers were going to pull off something as large-scale as rescuing Bastila. Suddenly, Revan squeaked and skidded to a halt. Carth stared at her strangely, and as she pointed behind him, Mission started giggling.KotOR: Carth And The Fangirl in General Fiction More Like This
"Don't look now, flyboy," Revan whispered, "but you've got an admirer."
"Other than you?" Carth asked.
"Other than me."
Carth turned slowly, and when he did, he just about leaped a mile off the ground. For right behind him was...
She had big eyes (almost like you might find on a chibi) and an adorably stupid grin. She watched Carth unceasingly, never letting her eyes leave his face. Carth felt suddenly very nervous, but he couldn't move, because The Fangirl fawned over him every time he trie