Topic: Tristus
This is my first fanfiction I ever wrote. I originally posted it on a different forum, but the forum died, and so did my inspiration to write. But, I decided to post the begining here for you to view. If everyone likes it, I'll continue it, if not, well, I'll probably still continue it out of boredom. Since it was first written, I've editted it and cleaned it up some. I'll just post the introduction for now. Criticism is highly welcomed; I -want- to know what you guys think of it.
It takes place within several hundred years of the happenins of KOTOR. Everyone in it is made up by yours truly, unless I make a referrence to an official character.
Note that the character is who I named this account after, and I'l not trying to make myself look any cooler than I already am. *grin*
Introduction
“Reach out with your mind. Control your feelings, and you will control your power.”
Tristus’ eyes shot open. It was just a dream, he was still in bed. But the dream felt so real, more then any dreams he had experienced before. And that voice, as soft as it was, brought an overwhelming sorry and anger in his heart. It brought back memories, or at least what Tristus assumed to be memories. They were too unclear and foggy to tell though, and were too scattered to make any sense of. One would be himself, fighting off a horde of violent katarn, and another would be him, leaping from rock to rock over a bottomless chasm in a foggy mountain. Each one by itself was completely unrelated to the other, except that in each one, she too was in them, fighting beside Tristus, catching his hand and saving him when he nearly didn’t make the jump to the next rock. And each memory brought about an ecstasy of emotion, of pain, joy, sorrow, anger, confusion.
These dreams above all else troubled him, and he couldn’t explain why. He didn’t even mind the nightmares, the dreams he would have called nightmares as a Jedi, of death and blood. Over the years, he had even come to enjoy those dreams, as his mind become more and more grim. But, even though blood and gore didn’t turn his stomach, these dreams did, the dreams that were brought about by that voice.
But Tristus didn’t want to ponder this right now. He sat up and shook his head free from the thoughts. He could sense it would be morning soon, and wanted to continue his investigation as to who had hired the mercenaries that had been after him for several days. So far, he had managed to avoid any serious confrontation with them, but if he didn’t get to the source of it all, he would have to put up with these blasted attacks until he left Nar Shaddaa, and he had no intention of doing so.
He climbed out of his bed and strode over to his desk, on which rested his cloak. He had only slept in his leggings, and even thought it was probably too dark to notice him, he still didn’t feel comfortable leaving the room without his cloak. He wrapped it around him, and made his way out of the room, and onto the balcony. He rested his arms on the safety-rail and looked out over the endless activity that was Nar Shadaa. The cool wind that flowed his sweat-covered forehead relaxed him, and he loosened his cloak to try to catch more of the wind and cool himself off. He took a deep breath and cleared his mind once more. It wasn’t the clear air of Onderon, but it was still refreshing.
However, just when Tristus thought that he would have a few minutes to think over his next course of action, he sensed something. A life force, on the roof of the building several stories up. He was watching Tristus, and whoever he was, he still thought he had the element of surprise. It was no doubt a bounty hunter, a single one. However, this was in Tristus’ favor. A single bounty hunter had come to try to bring in Tristus alone. Tristus didn’t have to worry about any support coming for the bounty hunter, he sensed, so he could extract some information from this one. Confident in his new plan, he relaxed once more and continued looking over Nar Shadaa, waiting for the bounty hunter to make his move.
It was ten minutes before the hunter tried anything. Just when Tristus was wondering if he was going to sit here until sunrise waiting on the hunter, he began moving. Though Tristus couldn’t tell much using only his mind to try to follow the bounty hunter, from what he could tell, the bounty hunter was moving down the wall by use of a rope, or something to support him while he made his way down. Finally, he released the cord and fell, landing right behind Tristus and retrieving his blaster. Without his ability to sense the bounty hunter, he wouldn’t have noticed him until he heard the click that followed after the blaster was aimed at his head.
“For a Jedi, you were awfully easy to sneak up on.” Mocked the bounty hunter in a female voice. Apparently Tristus was wrong in the gender, but he couldn’t tell a person’s s*x by simply sensing their movements, so he wasn’t bothered at all by his mistake. “Well, turn around. I want to see the face of the Jedi I’ve been hunting for nearly two days.”
Tristus complied, and slowly turned to face the bounty hunter. It was a Twi’lek with bright blue skin, her head tails, or lekku, as they were appropriately called, were wrapped around her neck. She wore light armor, nothing fancy, and had a number of gadgets visible on her, including some cord wrapped around her arm, a belt filled with thermal detonators and other bombs, and . He noticed the blaster, which was now pointed at his forehead, had been customized from its original state. Common for a bounty hunter, that is, both to have a customized blaster and to have it aimed at Tristus’ head.
“Well, you’re cute, for a bounty.” She teased, looking Tristus over. Tristus wasn’t amused, though found it interesting that she wasn’t disturbed by his pale features, like most were. Of course, it was dim light, so he doubted she could see how ‘cute’ he really was.
“Who sent you?” Tristus asked bluntly.
“You’re not exactly in a position to ask questions, Jedi.” The Twi’lek reminded him, poking him in the forehead with the blasters tip.
Tristus had already grown impatient with the bounty hunter, and realized they would require a change of position before she would be willing to part with any information, and luckily, he kept his lightsaber in his cloak pocket. Before she could blink, he willed his lightsaber into his hand from its pocket, activated it, and had sliced clean through the blade in one swift motion. Startled, she tried to reach for another gun, but Tristus grabbed her wrist and twisted it hard, forcing her in her knees. He then brought the bright red blade of the lightsaber close to her throat. The saber staff wasn’t yes finished, only one side worked and it was half covered so the insides were visible, but it served its purpose for now.
“Please, d-don’t kill me!” She whimpered, “I’ll do anything!”
Again, Tristus asked, “Who sent you?”
“I was contracted by a man named Bent Jorik, along with all the other bounty hunters. Jorik said that he representing another, but he only mentioned it once.” She paused a moment to breath. Tristus could clearly see in the light of the blade that she had begun sweating, specifically on her neck where the heat of the lightsaber was. She went on. “All we were told is our target, along with other information about you.”
“What sort of information?” Tristus asked. She didn’t respond right away, rather, he noticed she was reaching for a bomb on her belt. He enforced his position by twisting her arm even more and bringing the blade as close to her flash as possible, without actually cutting her.
“No, don’t!” She pleaded, “We were given a clear description.” She said, and reached for a pouch on her shoulder. At first Tristus thought she was trying to grab another weapon, but then she pulled out a small device, and handed it to Tristus. It was a hologram device, used for recording images and the like. It was a disk, about the size of his palm, with several small buttons at one side. He activated it, and a light blue, see-through image of himself appeared. Pushing another button, he zoomed in on his face. He could tell it was a modified image, made from scratch, most likely from a description, but the resemblance was nearly perfect. But how was the possible? He had only been there two weeks, eleven days really, and hadn’t once shown his face to anyone. He turned the device off and put in another cloak pocket, returning his attention to the Twi’lek, who was growing seemingly uncomfortable by now.
“How do you contact Jorik?” He demanded, still keeping the lightsaber close to her neck.
“With this communicator.” She said, and retrieved a long, round device, similar to the last on in material and buttons. He examined it for a moment, and then looked back at the Twi’lek one last time.
“Please, I’ve told you all I know, now, let me go, honorable Jedi!”
Tristus smirked. “Honorable Jedi?” He echoed, trying to remember the last time he was called that, if he had been called that at all. He then shrugged. He never had intended on letting her go, only to get as much information as he could from her, and he already had. Tristus had few qualities, but mercy wasn’t one of them. Even if he thought she wouldn’t tell of this encounter, it wouldn’t make a difference.
Murder was a hobby, and Tristus was bored.
No one wants to die.
