Date: Thu, 30 Jan 1997 23:44:22 -0600 (CST) From: The Drake To: Jae Walker Subject: FLUFF: Apocolypse Part IV /\ / \ / \ ________________. ___ ._______ / | / \ | _ \ | (-----| |----`/ ^ \ | |_) | \ \ | | / /_\ \ | / .-----) | | | / _____ \ | |\ \-------. |________/ |__| /__/ \__\|__| `._________| ____ __ ____ ___ ._______ _________. \ \ / \ / / / \ | _ \ / | \ \/ \/ / / ^ \ | |_) || (-----` \ / / /_\ \ | / \ \ \ /\ / / _____ \ | |\ \---) | \__// \__/ /__/ \__\|__| `._________/ / Mailing List \ /________________________________\ _______ ___ ___ ___ _______ _______ | _ ) ) | Y | _ Y _ ) | I___| | | | | l___| l___| | __) | |__| | | __) | __) | | | l | l | | | | | | |______l_______| | | | `---' `---' `---' *APOCOLYPSE IN THE AHO'ELL SYSTEM* Part IV Written by SW-RPG Mailing List Members for SW-RPG Mailing List Members ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ < Matt Francis > The fights were raging on around him but Fett barely had time to notice-he knew what he had to do. Running (and squelching) down the corridor he managed to pass most of the other Fluffsters who were engaging in Munchkinised Fights. He came out onto a small docking bay were his pride and joy the Spamstorm 1 waited. A veritable jewel-glowing in the artificial lights of the bay. An object to be prized and revered above all objects. Fett ran up the ramp screaming; "Close the Smegging door for Narf's sake!" Gilga-squish took up the cry believing it to be a religious hymn. "Are we prepped for take off?" The computers immediately started bickering and squabbling. Fett kicked in the thrusters and shot off, out into space. He passed 12 X-Wings, a variety of Star Destroyers (Small and Munckins) and a variety of freighters large and small. He set course for the Empress' Homeworld and blasted off into the starry beyond. ********************************* As he came out of Hyperspace something strange struck him. "Where's the planet? It should be round here somewhere. Navcom, what have you been doing?" And then the ship, its occupants and some small amounts of space dust around them vanished. 'AAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH!' Fett shouted his family's battlecry as he landed with a thud in the palace grounds. He emerged from the Spamstorm 1 with Gilga-squish moaning in religious ecstasy. The crew of the Forsaken II were gathered around a glowing device. It had begun. ********************************* < Jeff Wright > "COMPUTER, STATUS REPORT," Dirk Starlighter tried to make himself heard above the maddening din of snapping circuits, and small explosions, which had been going on inside the Farseer ever since he had began to regain consciousness. There was no response. Dirk heaved himself up and began moving to the master control console. The whole cockpit was bathed in a blood red color with slight flashes every so often as yet another circuit would blow apart. He soon was able to access the main computer. The main computer was down due to the power surges. But, with just Dirk by himself his only hope was to reinstate the master slave rigging systems and self-repair systems, to even possibly be able to control the Farseer. A quick summary from the computer confirmed the worse. Main power was off- line, shields and weapons off-line, hyperdrive burnt out, ion drive off-line, maneuvering thrusters at 40% power, life-support on back-up, and sensors in re- alignment procedure. Damn, Dirk thought last he could remember he had been in the cockpit with a jolly red person who had said something about some type of rupture in the Space Time Continuum. They had entered hyperspace and boom, he had lost consciousness. Now his ship was badly damaged and he had no idea where he was or where that Santa fellow had headed off too. He then began accessing the sensor logs to see if he could get some type of an idea of where he was. Soon he was able to produce a picture on the main view screen. What he saw shocked him. Ahead of him was a small planet and instead of the normal blackness of space. He was surrounded by some weird type of white stuff. The next report from the sensors was even less encouraging he was headed right towards the planet, and without engines or repulsorlift capability and just some slight power from the maneuvering thrusters he would drop like a meteor in a argon filled atmosphere. "Computer?" "Wor...Work....Workingggg." replied the computer "Computer began full self-repair on maneuvering systems and begin reconfiguring inertial dampeners using program crash 1." There was just a slight chance this would work. It was a beta program which he had come up with would allow the inertial dampeners to use a special algorithm which might allow the vessel and more importantly the occupants to come through ok. "Working.....running program Crash 1.....re-routing all available power to maneuvering thrusters.....currently 42%....45%...at current rate will reach 65% in 2 minutes." "Computer, estimate time to impact with atmosphere." "Estimated time to Atmospheric re-entry 40 seconds." Madly Dirk raced to the helm controls. He began to work furiously with the control, right now it was the battle between him and the freighter. He knew now his life hanged in the balance of his piloting skill. The outer hull of the freighter began to heat. It started glowing warmly as the freighter began to feel friction as it was entering the atmosphere. Soon it began showing a bright tail behind it and it look very much like a shooting star as it began heading directly towards the Empress'es waiting palace. ********************************* < The Drake > Drake looked at his new surroundings. The lush forest seemed a pleasant relief from the grey walls of that instillation on the small moon in the Aoh'ell system. He breathed a welcome sigh and leaned up against a nearby tree. He looked down at the beer bottle he had fought so hard to keep. "Boy, are you ever gonna hit the spot!", said Drake as he began to open the bottle. Suddenly, the top of the bottle fell off! It was being held together by some green sludge. Drake peered inside. . . empty! The Dark Side ignited like wild fire within him, he arched his head back and screamed: "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!" It echoed for miles. Drake quickly stood up, tossed the bottle over his shoulder. He had been lead here by something. He wanted to know what. And now, he was pissed. He ignited his lightsaber and ran through the forest like some wild dog. He finally entered a clearing. A huge monolithic structure stood in the middle of the glade. He peered inside the opening of the structure and saw people standing there. "Finally,", he said. "Some ass to kick!" ********************************* < Chris Koch > On the Empress' throneworld, the Limaan, Damian, and Qel waited patiently for the Fluffster-summoning machine to do its job. Suddenly, a machine next to Limaan went "Beep." "Huh?" said Limaan. "Beep." replied the machine. Limaan walked over to it, fiddled with it's controls, and all of a sudden it projected a holo-image. "Damian!" yelped Limaan, "We've got company! There's a Star Destroyer in orbit it's...the Darkstryder II! Trac Shaddar's flagship!" "Excellent!" exclaimed Damian, "It's working! It's summoning the Fluffsters! And one by one, they began to appear. First Trac Shaddar popped into existance, still clutching his Donald Duck doll. Then, Cuthbert Fett and Gilga-Muck popped in, followed by Kaal Ironfist, The Drake, Jedi Master Iles, a Rogrog, and Tenadys Qural. Soon the throne room was filled with confused Fluffsters. Then, right in front of Limaan, appeared the shimmering blue spiritual form of Minos Hurloon. "Minos!" Damian ejaculated, "But you were killed! Twice!" "There is no death, there is the Fluff." said Minos. "Fluff conquers all y'know. Anyways, I guess I'm here!" After the general chaos that usually follows the mass teleportation of many sentient lifeforms, Damian began to speak. "Welcome. Many of you know why we are here. Some of you may not. Today, we face the greatest enemy this galaxy has ever faced. A dark, malignant force reaches out from the depths of the Dark Side, and it wishes to crush the life out of the galaxy. It has already claimed one planet, and it has taken one of the mightiest Force Users in the galaxy, Empress Jae. This force is Criv'ix K'thuk, and he must be stopped. He can take our lives but he can't take our freedom! The line must be drawn here! Today, we celebrate, out Independance Day!" The mass of Fluffsters managed to generate a collective confused stare, and directed it at Damian, who began to feel rather foolish. "Never mix your dramatic cinematic speeches." said Limaan out of the corner of his mouth, as he pushed Damian aside, and assumed his position at the potium. He turned to the flufflings, and began to speak. "Look guys, I'm gonna make this simple. The galaxy is knee-deep in smeg, and we're the clean-up crew. All those who don't wanna be involved, too bad, yer involved. ********************************* < "James A." > "Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah" intoned the strange person in front of Rogrog. What did this mean? Rogrog didn't know. Inspirational speeches stolen from B-grade films did nothing more than pass through the blank space between this little green gamorrean's ears. The last thing siad though caught everyone's, even Rogrog's attention. ********************************* < Chris Koch > So let's go kick ass, and when we get back FREE BEER FOR EVERYONE!!!! C'MON!" This met with thundrous cheering and applause, and the fluffsters followed Limaan down a long corridor, toward a set of huge doors. "We're the clean-up crew," shouted Limaan, "and these are our shovels!" The doors swung open, revealing the Empress' vast armory. Inside, powerful weapons and artifacts lined the walls and the shelves, some radiating such a powerful Force signature that even Limaan could feel it. "Take whatever you need," shouted Damian, "but remember, it's only on loan." The fluffsters proceeded to ravage the chamber, grabbing whatever equipment they needed. Soon they would be prepared to strike.... < "Z. Mittge" > "BEER!" The holy word resounded in the chamber, and Gilga-squish added his own slurping shout to it as the assembeled combatants echoed it again. At length, the holy man proceeded down the hall. Gilga-squish artfully dodged between his feet and schlepped to the front of the mass of Fluffsters. At length, two great doors stood before him, and not waiting to recite the complex hymns which the foremost one was intoning (nobody else was doing it), Gilga-squish squelched under them and beheld the armory. Somewhere from deep inside himself (probably in one of the grape or bannana chunks suspended in him) Gilga-squish recognized the purpose of the objects within. The shout of "Beer!", the holy man's trek, the weapons, it all came crashing down on him. So did the Drake's foot. "Jihad!" Gilga-squish never-the-less shrieked, his body farely resonating with the shrill piping sound. "Great googly-moogly!" The Drake managed before his foot careened out from under him, and he landed on his back on the retreaded green puddle. "Jihad!" Gilga-squish intoned again, his shrill voice more than making up for the muffling intrusion of the Drake's derrier, as the other tried to, once more, gain his feet. "Alright!" The Drake said regaining his feet after several more slips and squelching prat-falls (accompanied by appropriate drum-rolls and rim-shots), "I'm sorry. Here have your...er...proto-...er....jell--er.. ..mucu..er..." "Isn't that that show with George Clooney on it?" Fett wondered allowed. "What?!" The Drake bellowed still helplessly trying to quiet the still shrieking Gilga-squish by scraping the slime of his boots and clothes and stick it back on with debateable success. "E--Oh, heck never-mind!" "Will, you tell me what the heck is wrong with your little green mud-puddle buddy. I stomped on him, and I think he's angry." "That's odd" Fett said, "I've stepped on him plenty and he never got angry before." "See," Fett added, planting a foot in the middle of the still screeching green mass."no harm done." At that precise moment Trac Shaddar brought down a light-saber from a weapons rack in the corner. "Jihad!" Gilga-squish squelched with glee, and shot out from under Fett's foot. "That better be your blaster, Fett, or I'll slap a sexual harrassment suit on you faster than you can say 'Clarence Thomas'" Grumbled the Drake from underneath the body of the collapsed Man/dalorian. "That's odd." Fett said to himself as pushed himself back onto his feet heedless of the groaning Drake. "What's that?" the Drake said in a voice that rivalled that of Mickey Mouse on helium. Trac Shaddar glanced up, noticed the man turning green and clutching his crotch, and decided that Michael Jackson had just gone too far with this cosmetic surgery thing. Gilga-squish puddled at Trac's feet offering a repeated chant of "Jihad!" occasionally interjected with "Beer!" "I think he wants to fight." Fett said wandering over to the wide-eyed puddle. "Beer?" Fett tried experimentally. "Beer!" Gilga-squish squelched in agreement. "Jihad?" "Jihad!!" Gilga shouted drawing himself into a taller formless mass Fett wondered absently if Fett had studied under Jackson Pollack, thought better of the high-brow modern art reference, and tried to fit a bandolier around Gilgas amorphous shoulders. The belt slid through almost completely before catching on a bit of cottage-cheese in his mid-rift. "Hmmm..." Fett murmured. "Hey Trac, hand me that lightsaber and see if you can't find some bisquick..." < Christian Rick > "Ehh, yhea sure" Said Trac while he handed over a lightsaber to Fett. "Lemme see, biscuits... Wadda he want those for?" he wondered while he slipped some more lightsabers up his sleve. "Lets see... Lightsabers, no, blasters, no, melee weapons, no, Starfighter scale cannons, no, CanonCannons(tm), no, biscuits, no, mandelorian battle armours, no. Wait a minute. Biscuits!!" looked around trying to spot Fett "Hey, Fett, I got your biscuits here!!!" < "James A." > Looking over the shelves, Rogrog tried to find a piece of equipment that suited him. Gun..no. Bigger gun..no. Even Bigger gun...no. Strange cylinder...no...Even stranger cylinder...no. To Rogrog's disgust, there seemed to be nothing there for him. As he was about to turn away, he noticed a dusty corner in the room. Standing in this corner were two things. A long piece of wood with a triangular back, and a long handle, and a wooden box. Engraved on the pice of wood were the letter G & M... Rogrog didn't know what they meant, but hefting the handle produced a nice _swishing_ sound and it felt just right. Opening the box, he peered inside, and a drool-flecked grin errupted over his knobbly face. He had in his posession, every FLUFFSTER's dream....a plot device...now what could he use this for now... < Matt Francis > 'Oh smeg' Fett thought 'An Aussie with a cricket bat, he's unstoppable.' Fett picked up a pack of Digestives handed to him by Trac Shaddar- 'Hmmm maybe I can bludgeon someone to death with them.' He looked around the chamber for more weapons 'OK what have we got here? "Add-ons for Fetts"? Naah "Super add-ons for Fetts"? Naah "Super-Duper-Mega-Giga-Force-Using-DeathStarScale-Munchkinised-Thing you stick on you armour"? Well if I must" "Jihad!" Gilga piped up "Yeah,right" < RedWizzard > A loud thunderstorm brewed in a matter of momments and large transdimensional portal opened in its center. out of the portal fell a screaming form of a punk rock fan in a Starfighter Flyght suit. "AUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!" WHUMP!!! as the pilot suddenly hit the ground in front of the three Fluff legends. "Ouch, have you ever tried to battle a Bar room brawler with a cross eyed dame flapping in your arms and then all the sudden have the call from a Dark Jedi Master that you are needed on a distant planet." All of the sudden a pair of Reindeer fell on top of him. "Get off of me you guys." said the beleagured pilot. The Reindeer complied slowly as if to consider if that was really nessecary. "Now down to business. First you guys are need of a brash pilot template to make sure you can get from here to there. Second you might also need some Beer. Now were did I leave that case of Blue Moon Death Star Harvest Lagger." Again almost on cue a case of Blue Moon fell on the pilot. He got up again missing a couple of teeth, but other wise alright. "Ah, there we are. And finally I have this." He pulled out a box of bisquick and threw it to Fett. "Now if there arn't any questions we can continue on with this fluff." Popping open a bottle of the prescious brew he tilted his head back and swigged an ample portion of the bottle. "But who are you?" questioned the belleagured Drake "Oh sorry, Rexon Alloton of the Jungle Endless Dance Party (TM), captain of the Ditch'em All. here to assist in the recapturing of the lithe Emperess Jae, since she is the only one who knows were my lost CD of Oingo Boingo greats could possibly be. Now who has the plan?" He finished offering all a bottle of the best brew he could find, including the wee green blobby. < Jedi Iles > "Dammit, you'd think when they sucked you out of reality and into another just to finish up a FLUFF they'd at least give you your choice of adult beverages instead of just beer! What's wrong with something stronger like Jedi Lum?" Master Iles whispered under his breath as the vault doors opened. As they did, Master Iles was nearly thrown off his feet by the enormous power of the Force that flooded out of the room. As the rest of the FLUFFsters crowded into the room, grabbing what they could, Jedi Master Iles patiently waited. He knew what he wanted, and knew that they wouldn't be in high demand. As the crowds subsided, he entered the vault, lead by the Force, to the back corner, where he found what he was looking for. Racks on the wall covered in lightsabers. "Yes, here they are! Let's see, I'll take that one, and that one..." he said as he plucked several sabers off the racks. "Now, to get out my 'Collapsable-Readily-Modifiable Ilesian Battle Armor from the Iles family, rulers of Clan Somersetshire'(tm) and begin to prepare for battle. Hmmm...maybe I should warn the others about how dangerous this'll be? Nah." He began his work... < The Drake > Drake managed to regain his balance after slipping on some of that green sludge. He could see the others looking at him trying their best to hold back their laughter. He started over to one of the corners that looked dark and shadowed. He could feel some powerful energy radiating from somewhere in the darkness. He searched through a pile of lightsabers and came upon a sleek ebony box. "Great googly moogly.", Drake whispered. He opened the box and his eyes neared popped out of his head. There, lying in a bed of shiny black velvet was the most beautiful lightsaber he had ever seen. It had a slim handle crafted out of some form of onyx. It glistened in the dim light. Drake ran his fingers along the hilt. He could feel something on the handle. Something like writing. He lifted the lightsaber from her box; she was perfectly balanced. He held her up to the light and there, engraved on her handle read the words: "Black and Decker" < MSTR Trench > Kaal shrugged. "Never could get the hang of how to use those things." And with that, he walked up to the opposite wall, under a big sign that said, "SuperWeapons." Kaal looked around -- his eyes narrowed, his breathing rate increased, his knees shaking... And then he found it. The Holy Hand Grenade. Then Kaal raised the hand grenade on high, saying, "Oh Lawd, bless this thy hand grenade, that with it though may blowest thine enemies to bits - in thy mercy." Drake gasped. "The Holy Hand Grenade? Empress Jae owns the Holy Hand Grenade?" "Yes," said Kaal, smiling like he was holding a million credits. "She does." He turned around, looking at everybody. "I've got one of those too," said a Frenchman in the corner, huddling under the Blasters section. "Are you sure you've got one?" Kaal was astounded. "Yes -- It's-a very nice..." The Frenchman grinned. Kaal slipped the Holy Hand Grenade in his pocket and yelled to everyone, "Tell me if we meet any rabbits!!!!" < Christian Rick > "Whoo?? Is that what I think it is? A REAL BLACK AND DECKER LIGHTSABER???" asked Trac "You are really lucky pal!! Why can't I find something like that?". He walked around the armory after a few minutes he came to a door with a sign that read "Authorised Personel Only!". "Wonder what they mean with that?" he asked himself and opened the door. Inside he saw one of the most famous FLUFF artifacts, THE FZOOK!! He took it and put it in his pocket. After a few seconds his comlink started beeping. "Track speaking, who am I speaking to?" "This is your first officer talking, I just recived notice that they have finnished building the SSD Lord Of Sith, all according to your specifications!" "Great!! Have you calculated the cordinates for this planet yet?" "Yes, we have." "Good send a shuttle, no sen two. One to give the Lord Of Sith the cordinates, and one to go and buy some beer, no make that LOTS of beer. And send shuttles with HYPERDRIVES this time, will ya??" "Err, Yes Sir!! Dark Stalker II out!" ***A FEW HOURS LATER*** All the fluffsters seemed to have found the equipment they where looking for, leaving very little left. Suddenly a SSD appeared in orbit, joining the rest of Trac Shaddar's Battle Fleet. Trac's comlink cracked to life again. "Sir! The SSD Lord Of Sith have arrived!!" The war had begun < Matt Francis > Cuthbert secured Gilga-squish's arsenal on himand looked over his oozing prophet. 'Jihad?' It asked hopefully Fett nodded 'You bet your protozoa matey' He discarded the "Super-Duper-Mega-Giga-Force-Using-DeathStarScale-Munchkinised- Thing you stick on you armour" in favour of a more subtle and realistic weapon. And then standing on the small obsidian pedestal was something every Jedi dreams of. 'Oh my, the Death Star Scale Water Pistol and Light Saber combo" Fett pocketed it. Striding out into the hall the others were all girded for war. Ilesian battle armour, Black and Decker saber, mysterious club with G and M written on it. There was even a selection of Righteous Shades (TM) among the crowd. Then he looked at Limaan Mandalorian Super-Commando armour and then down at his 'Dark and Moody' Mandalorian Supercommando Armour (admittedlt spoiled by a pile of mucus yelling 'Jihad') Looking back up he smiled. 'Lets do it' < "James A." > Rogrog looked down at the feet of Fett, gazing at the strange ooze stuck to his feet that kept yelling strange words. As Fett Strode past, Rogrog stooped to pick up some of the mucus left on the floor and raised ti to his lips. "Mmmmmmmmmm...tastes like chicken" Rogrog murmured silently. So long as Rogrog got some more of this chicken-flavoured goo, he was ready to do anything... Just imagine...chicken in a tube...what a hit it would be... ********************************* < Proteus > "Sir! I... I think you should see this, sir!" Admiral Blake Ayries slowly turned to the voice calling up to him from the crew pit. His command chair swiveled about and he gazed darkly across the captain's walk. The woman beside him in her crisply-starched uniform strode purposefully down the bridge until she stood above the officer who had gained her attention. "What do you have to report, Comm?" "I've got a HoloNet broadcast that I believe the Admiral would find, uh, interesting, Captain." Captain Sashara Iskow glared down the little man warningly. "The admiral is not to be bothered with petty broadcasts, *Ensign*." "But, sir... It's from the Empress!" There was a collective gasp around the enormous bridge and Sashara allowed her eyes to widened ever-so-slightly. She glanced back at Admiral Ayries, whose face was as emotionless as ever, then back to the comm officer. "What is it?" "It's FLUFF, Captain." Sashara's gaze turned icy. "We are under strict orders to ignore all FLUFF, Ensign. This ship is not fully recovered from the fiasco in the Drycas System." Indeed it was not. The _Reaper's Scythe_, one of the Empress' Sovereign-class warships, had been cloaked over Drycas when the Newbies had attacked. The resulting release of SPAM had threatened to tear the 15-kilometer-long ship apart, especially when two larger Eclipse-class command vessels had jumped in-system. Ever since then, the _Scythe_ had been cloaked in deep space, undergoing repairs and upgrades. Only now was it finally coming back up to its optimum combat-ready status. "But Captain Iskow," the commsman insisted, "the Empress has been *captured*!" "What?!" Admiral Ayries sprang to his feet, which in and of itself was almost as shocking as the news that caused it. "Her Majesty?! CAPTURED!!" His eyes glowed with an intense fury that was completely out of character for the emotionless Admiral. "How is this possible?!" "Unkown, sir," the ensign squeaked, startled. "We haven't been monitoring FLUFF traffic -- we've been too busy with other things. The subspace arrays have picked up certain things... Something about Cuthbert Fett, a Gamorrean named Rogrog, a... Holy Hand Grenade, I believe..." "By the Empress' black heart," Ayries breathed, "Pythonian weaponry..." "Yes, sir," the young man continued. "Other than that, I have no idea what's been going on. Apparently there's been an entire storyline progressing that we've not been aware of." "The Empress," Sashara whispered, "captured...?" "We must free her!" Ayries said with conviction. "But sir!" the ensign put in, "we don't even know who's *holding* her! We're completely oblivious to the plot! We can't do anything until we know more!" He paused, then checked his screen. "Hmm... There's something here about... 'Leia's gold bikini'?" "Damn the Jedi bastard!" Ayries hissed. "Charge the axial superlaser! Scramble TIE Defender squadrons! Prep the Tank Droids for dropship boarding! I want ion cannons charged and turbolasers on-line immediately!" "Sir, I must insist you rethink this!" the Ensign protested. Others around the bridge murmured in either consent or disagreement, while others snickered blasphemously about the Empress in a golden bikini. "There's nothing we can do unless we can find some compiling of FLUFF and examine the situation! Besides, I haven't seen any FLUFF traffic in several Standard days! The FLUFF may be over!" "This ship holds thirty-five TIE Defender squadrons, 75 AT-ATs, 40 Tank Droids, over one thousand heavy energy weapons and more than 130,000 Storm Troopers!" the Admiral snapped. "I don't give a damn what the hell is happening out there! Whatever is going on, if our Most Sacred and Beautiful Empress is being held against her will, we will destroy anything in our way in order to free her!" He whirled around. "Helm! Track the origin point of the Empress' HyperComm signal and prepare to engage HyperDrives! Recall all defensive and observational satelites and Probe Droids! When we come out of hyperspace, I want the cloak down, the gravity wells up, and we'll destroy anything in-system which does not swear alliegence to the Second Imperium!" "Sir! We'll tear apart the continuity! We may even re-open old FLUFF that's been ended! A ship this size will throw everything all the FLUFFsters have worked on out of kilter! We may *prolong* the FLUFF!" < Red Wizard > The hairs on the back of Rexon's neck suddenly curled as he felt the rush of power created by the Hyperdrive of the extreemely large ship began to warm up. "Yes, yes you will," chuckled Rexon. "And you might just give me a second chance for the Sleigh you fools." Those Dark Jedi still around him looked on at the one whom they beleived to be completely numb to the force as he began to float on mere air before their vary eyes. < Proteus > "I WILL NOT REST UNTIL THE EMPRESS IS SAFELY ABOARD THIS SHIP!!" the Admiral roared, savagely enough that several members in the crew pit had to excuse themselves to use the little Imperials room. "Captain Iskow!" he called to Sashara. "Signal the _Wrath of God_ that we are pulling out." The _Wrath_ was an old Imperial II-class destroyer, but still held a decent amount of TIE Advanced fighters to privide extra starfighter cover for the _Scythe_. "Helm, full about. All hands, prepare for lightspeed. For the Glory of the Most Revered and Exquisite Empress... Engage!!" < Red Wizard > Another grand and uncalled for temporal portal opened up before the eyes of the pitiful Dark siders and other creatures amassed on the Throne World. With a mighty "Ho, Ho, Ho" The Sleigh again apeared in the galxy even though it wasn't christmas yet. Rexon floated to meet the quickly approaching Red Sleigh and kicked the current occupant and that damned IG-87 food prep droid out and watched as they fell to the ground. The rotund gentleman made a loud splut as his body hit the ground and the Robot seemed unfazed, but the sleigh was his now. as he laughed to himself about the marvels he will do, Rexon came up the ultimate job for this newly found treasure. SAVE THE EMPERESS and PICK UP SOME BABES. *****BACK ON THE EMPRESS' THRONEWORLD****** < "Eric Lee Cline" > Just as the other fluffsters prepared for their great quest, Eildath the Dark materialized in their midst. The Sith Lord was especially pale, for he had just spend the last month luxuriating in the darkness of his bed chambers, playing "Mortal Kombat Trilogy: Really the Very Last Edition, no We're Serious This Time." He looked around at the heavily armed warriors around him, took a brief gulp of air, and spoke. "Hiya! Uhh, what's going on. Sorry I'm late, but you know how it is, things cropping up at the last moment. What're we doing today?" He was rewarded with many blank stares, and more than a few snarls. "Is this a bad time? What's going on?" < The Drake > Drake sat in the corner, admiring his Black and Decker Lightsaber. He looked down and saw a dusty box under several more lightsabers. He blew a puff of air across the side of the box. It read. . . . Drake suddenly looked up to realize that the FLUFF was fading to comercial! 'Not now!', he thought as he leaped up infront of the crowd. "WAIT!", he screamed! I have found something that could be very useful in our quest to rescue the Empress." He held up the wooden crate that was still covered in a thick layer of dust. Apparently it was not thick enough because some of the nearest Fluffsters could read the writing and began to get a little edgy. Drake heard the hum of a few lightsabers and he noticed the crowd eyeing each other with malicious intent. "Um, ah, on second thought we will wait with this until *after* the fight. Sort of a celebration, ok?", Drake said lowering the crate to the ground being ever so careful. "What is it?", a voice asked from the back. "Oh, nothing.", Drake replied sheepishly. "No, c'mon! What is it?", came the voice again. This time it was met with several other requests for the identification of the strange crate. "Um,. . . a. . . well its a. . . a . . um. . crate of a. . . um. . . Oh hell. Its a crate of Wookie Ale!" The crowd erupted into roars of both anxiety and thirst! Several Fluffsters tried to climb up to where Drake stood and grab the crate. He quickly held it above his head again. "Now just you wait!", he screamed. "We will all have some *when we get back!* If you don't survive, too bad! But until then, NO WOOKIE ALE! Or I'll bust the crate right now!" Drake's outburst was met with a thunderous groan and several cuss words. But Drake knew he had done the right thing. . . maybe. ********************************* c==o _/____\_ _.,--'" ||^ || "`z._ /_/^ ___\|| || _/o\ "`-._ _/ ]. L_| || .|| \_/_ . _`--._ / ~7 _ . " ||. || /] \ ]. (_) . '`--. |__7~.(_)_ []|+--+|/____T_____________L| |__| _^(_) /^ __\____ _ _| |__| (_)(_) J ]K{__ L___ _ _] |__| . _(_) \v /__________|________ l__l_ (_). []|+-+-<\^ L . _ - ---L| \__\ __. ||^l \Y] /_] (_) . _,--' \~_] L_| || .\ .\\/~. _,--'" \_\ . __/|| |\ \`-+-<'" "`---.__|J__L|X o~~|[\\ \____/ \___|[// `--' `--+-'