It has been a while hasn't it? Well below is a fraction of what I have been up to these past few weeks - there is also some new stuff in my gallery above so please do check that out. I have been asked to exhibit some of my work in a public exhibition next month, and I am keen to get opinions on what I should display, if you see anything above that you like, let me know - this isn't limited to SW fan art however, so please do check out my site at www.blue-but-beautiful.deviantart.com also :)

Now some snippets of what I have been up to...followed by part 2 of chapter 14 of my fic.



Lotva Shai's profile pic



jhc36 - The Supreme Overlord of tf.net's Yuuzhan'tar thread



Elmira Val, reg at tf.net's Yuuzhan'tar thread - shown as unfinished

As I Die - Chapter 14: pt 2

*****

T'arlann Shoolb wiped the ash-flecked sleeve of his robeskin across his aged, sloping forehead. The search for survivors of the temple disaster was being called off, finally, and he would soon be able to return to his prior tasks - not a moment too soon, he thought dejectedly, it had been necessary for him to take part in the search for a couple of reasons. One, being that if he was absent, it may cause suspicion, considering the high rank he held within the community. The other was to listed and observe - rumours spread like wild fire concerning situations like this, and he wanted to be one of the first to hear them, he could then stay one step ahead of discovery.

It had not escaped his attention that the Jeedai had ben sniffing around the disaster zone like well trained bissop hounds on the hunt for precautious food. The scientist counterpart, Danni Quee, had also been picking through the ruins with great interest, though he had not been able to catch a word of what she had discussed with her guide. A pity that, because she had been joined by that vermin-hybrid Jeedai creature, and the three had seemed to become encompassed by deep conversation. Would they be able to work out that the explosion source had been delivered and triggered by an attendant from his own damutek? Yem-Zi had played too many dangerous games, and with their lives no less! But who, indeed, was the bigger fool here?
The old prefect resolved to speak with Yem Zi the moment he first got chance, their plans needed revising, Sekot would be on high alert by now.

The primary was sinking low in the sky when the old Prefect reached the damutek's oqa membrane and found a tall, young priestly savant standing outside the entrance. The savant's face seemed permanently set in a pensive expression, with symbols depicting the goddess, Yun-Harla, burned into his his cheeks and partially covered forehead. He bowed respectfully as he observed the Prefect's approach.

"Greetings Prefect," The savant said softly, in the manner of which his entire caste seemed to speak, "I have come on behalf of the Priest, Ibu. He wishes resources procured and delivered to the shrine of Yun-Harla as soon as possible."

T'arlann Shoolb arched a brow curiously, suspiciously.

"It is a little late in the daycycle to be acquiring resources is it not?" He responded icily, he did not need this right now.

The savant bowed his head, lower than last time, "Belek tiu, Prefect, but the priest was most insistent."

T'arlann Shoolb's frown deepened into a scowl, he would have thought that the priests would have still been outraged and in shock over the destruction of the temple to be considering giving blood sacrifice, or making offerings as usual. He had never heard of this Ibu either, not that this was of any significance to him, he seldom visited the temple, preferring to give sacrifice in private, nor did he usually have dealings with the priests' themselves. It seemed his plans would have to wait a few more moments - as much as it unnerved him to continue to put things off, he could hardly afford to act too out of character.

He gestured toward the savant sharply, waving him through the entrance as he caused the porthole to dilate, keeping a close watch on the visitor's gait and general movement...it often told of hidden biots.

*****

It was an undignified way to travel. Cramped and stuffy, with little more than a few inches to move in either side, and the smell was utterly disgusting. Cooped up in the belly of a storage ganadote, Nom Anor felt the nervous tension within him rise above his irritation, had he had any remaining body hair, he was certain it would have been standing on end - for this situation was all too like the one that had caused him to hurl himself headlong into the maw luur.
'Needs must' - he told himself over and over, but it was of little comfort in these tight confines.

The sensation of having been partially devoured by the maw luur haunted his dreams, so he found no sanctuary among them, accompanied by the sounds of his desperate cries as the creatures' stomach acid had slowly burnt away at his flesh, cell by cell. In some nightmares, Onimi was there with him, his misshapen visage taunting him for his foolhardy actions. But then he had hidden for safety, for escape. Now he hid because he did not wish to be discovered.

All settlements neighbouring the one Nom Anor had been assigned to, were now on high alert, they were checking the credentials of all who entered and all who exited. So too they were searching incoming storage biots and containment creatures, so Nom Anor knew he would have to act way ahead of the airship - upon which he had secreted himself - arrived at it's destination. That would not be too hard, he had considered, this ship was manned only by a single Yuuzhan Vong pilot - a former shamed one by the looks of him- and he had chosen it for that reason along with it's chosen destination.
The pilot was large in physical stature, with a sunken dent in his cranium which gave Nom Anor the impression that someone had, at some point in time, attempted to stave it in with a blunt object. But the awkward gait with which he walked, told Nom Anor he would be unable to move relatively quickly if pushed - and 'push,' the former Prefect knew, was really the operative word.

It would be time to make a move soon, but Nom Anor had to be sure that he was far enough away from the settlements to raise the alarm.
When another hour had passed and all had fallen quiet, Nom Anor's limbs sprang to life painfully at having lain dormant for such a long passage of time, his sudden wriggling movements causing the ganadote to open it's large maw of a mouth, projecting the tongue, on which the Yuuzhan Vong male lay, forth into the open.
The cool, fresh crispness of the night's air was a sudden tingling pleasure to his skin, he inhaled a much needed breath of purity but did not have the time to lay and savour either sensation.

Keeping low as he attempted to gain his bearings, the former prefect looked around him cautiously. He was situated among a large, stacked pile of ganadotes that would have risen to approximately waist height, had he stood up to his full height but knew that if he did, he may stir the ship's only occupant. This would have to do for now.

Making slow, but steady progress, Nom Anor began to edge his way on all fours - or three's, he lamented - towards a wide gap between the pile of ganadotes and the organic wall of the airship's barrier. He was taking great care not to shuffle too loudly, or to make any slight sound, when something moved past the gap ahead of him, stilling his movements and causing him to tense in readiness.
He could have sworn that all had fallen silent, the sekotan craft was much like the living world that had grown it, somewhat sentient and did not require manning at all times, the pilot should have been asleep by now.
Midnight restlessness then? Or something else? Nom Anor thought, ominously incredulous.

He had observed the shamed pilot's tiresome task of loading the cargo onto this vessel, had listened to his incessant complaining of fatigue and had also been forced to listen to it's pitiful noises of discomfort. Only when they had ceased to be heard, had Nom Anor assumed the source of them to be asleep.
But whatever had passed that gap, had moved too lightly upon it's feet to be heard, to be Yuuzhan Vong.

As adrenaline trickled it's viscose way into his veins, Nom Anor's hand retrieved the coufee from his robeskin and kept it to his one remaining hand. The gap was only a mere meter away now, but he was reluctant to emerge without first knowing what he was dealing with. A familiar musky, pungent smell filled the air, provoking half-formed memories that he could not quite place. It was a scent he had smelt before, he should know this, but he equated it more with Yuuzhan Vong warriors more than anything.

Taking another careful shuffle forward, his hand landed flat in something wet... and vaguely sticky. Drawing his hand away to study the substance he had placed it in, he attempted to gage it's consistency between thumb and claw-tipped forefinger, just before the wet 'splat' of something liquid hitting the deck from above, caused the former prefect to freeze. And despite the huffing exhalation of foul breath he felt fall against the skin of his bald head, he was unable to repress a shameful shiver.

He remembered where he had smelt that stench before now, deep within the sectors of the worldships his people had once inhabited, those sectors favoured by the warrior caste, with large open spaces like gargantuan spatter pits. He recalled that these pits were not for sacrifice nor ceremonial battles, rather they were for training exercises, one on one domain disputes and recreational purposes. For anyone foolish enough to believe warriors were too stubborn minded or dense to be capable of creating their own entertainment, would be abhorrently wrong.
One form of entertainment was to take a fighting beast and pit it against another in a fight to the death, sagniths, korsks and bissop hounds were just some of the weird and horrific choices. There was not much that could best an enraged bissop hound, Nom Anor noted, they had superior strength in their legs and jaws, a mouth filled with fangs that would have not looked out of place on a holy Vua'sa. Their sense of smell was second only the recently bioengineered Vornskyr hybrid - the Voxyn - their pungent body odour was one sign of few signs of their presence.

So as Nom Anor looked up slowly into the ice-cold gaze of a fully grown bissop hound, it's drool-covered fangs hovering millimetres from his skull, he knew his next move was done for.
So much for subtle.

Scooting back as fast as he could, Nom Anor saw the bissop hound pounce, creating an almighty racket as it crashed - snapping jaw first- into the unforgiving deck. It?s obsidian eye swivelled in the direction Nom Anor had travelled and it?s gigantic paws began scrabbling for traction on the smooth surface below them, scrabbling claws sending a bone-jarring screech of frictional noise into the air. Enraged, the hound loosed an almighty howl of frustration that could have cut the marrow of your bones, then started forwards menacingly.
But Nom Anor was already on his feet, coufee in hand, yet even he knew that going one on one with the beast was incredibly stupid. He would have to goad it into a position in which he could either kill it, or overbalance it enough to send it careering over the side of the airship?s waist-high safety barrier.

He waited tensely as the creature began to stalk it?s prey with methodical caution, slowing it?s movements to a near halt - presumably to lure it?s meal into a false sense of security - before it charged, fangs gnashing as it snarled pure bloodlust, towards him. Nom Anor hurled himself flat against one pile of stacked ganadotes, watching as the bissop hound snapped wildly at the space he had once occupied, but skid harmlessly past him, head turning in an attempt to snag the former prefect as it went by. He flung the blade up then, in defence, but the blow he had dealt was not much, only serving to cut the pinkish grey gums of the creature, before it slammed into a pile of storage ganadotes, sending them flying all over the place.

Elsewhere on deck, Nom Anor heard a cry of alarm go up, as the pilot had obviously become aware of what was going on.
That was all Nom Anor needed and he found himself wishing he had tho9ught to replace the plaeryin bol he had lost to the maw luur - that would be the first thing he did when he returned, he thought, it was one luxury he could not afford to live without.

The hound was already preparing to pounce again, and Nom Anor had little choice but to try and position himself dangerously in front of the gap he had intended to use as an exit. If he timed this right, the creature might hit the far barrier-wall hard enough to break through. If not? Well, he hoped it would not come to that.

As predicted, the bissop hound charged him, snapping jaws fully extended and full of razor-sharp fangs slicked with ichorous drool that fell in thick, gleaming ropes from it?s mouth. It?s maw gaped impossibly wide, perhaps in hope of remedying it?s last narrow miss, as it approached and leapt into the air at Nom Anor?s torso.
A second before the hound would have hit him, the former prefect dropped flat to the deck, he could feel the crisp air above him shift as the beast sailed effortlessly over him, not once even clipping Nom Anor with it?s clawed feet.

The sound of it?s imminent collision with the barrier wall was muffled slightly and Nom Anor was on the brink of preparing for another dash, when he heard a frantic cry echo out from somewhere actually beyond the barrier it?s self.

?Help!?

Already risen, the former prefect recovered his coufee swiftly and ran to the edge of the broken safety barrier. There, clinging to bunches of the tishwi-vine webbing that was used to anchor the airship to the ground, was the straggly form of a shamed one male - the one he had seen loading the vessel.

Nom Anor could hardly surpress a smile at his uncanny luck! The hound was nowhere to be seen, so it must have fallen to it?s death miles below, the shamed one however...

?Oh!? It exclaimed upon seeing Nom Anor?s marred features peering down at him from above, ?Please! You can have anything you want, just help me!? It pleaded pitifully, twisting where it clung so precariously.

Still somewhat incredulous, Nom Anor released a chuckle of amusement,

?Why?? He managed in part, between measured laughs, ?Why would you assume I want anything you have??

The shamed one?s complexion paled considerably,

?P-please!?

Nom Anor tutted and shook his head in an all-too-human manner, then crouched down, leaning over the edge of the deck to grasp a fist full of the vine webbing the shamed one clung to. The unnamed male?s expression grew slightly more hopeful, but only vaguely so, his safety must have seemed slightly more within sight in his mind...and then Nom Anor produced the coufee he had expertly concealed against the back of his forearm.

The shamed one?s face went ominously ashen and he began to cry out for mercy, pitifully attempting to claw his way higher up the tangle of vines that stood between him and a sudden, but terrifying, death.
Nom Anor allowed him to get part of the way up before shearing through the supporting vines, grasping hold of them again and prolonging the shamed brenzlit?s torment for a few more ragged breaths.

To his credit, the shamed one fell silent, and the former prefect spoke only one word that was a whisper he would have had to strained to hear.

?No.?

Nom Anor released the tangle of vines and turned away, not caring to watch the shamed one fall to his doom through the cloudy darkness that filled the space between the airship and the ground. Instead he contemplated what a stroke of luck that had been, perhaps a little too lucky. It was something he would have to look deeper into when the time came, but now, he needed to find the controls to this vessel.

The airship had been a little daunting to fly at first, but Nom Anor had quickly discovered that the vessel was much the same as a tsik-vai atmospheric flier, save for the fact it was almost completely independent. It effectively flew it?s self, providing that it?s pilot gave it a few well versed instructions. All Nom Anor needed to really do, was steer it this way and that, using a combination of sensory nodes and infidel technology - both of which he had experience with.

The vessel, he noted when he had donned the membranous cognition hood, seemed to be very aware of where it was going and assured him that they would arrive at their destination within the cycle. It made little or no acknowledgement of the fact that he was not the original pilot, particularly after Nom Anor had told the ship that the pilot was resting, it need only take instruction.

Although it was tempting to the former prefect to find sleep himself, Nom Anor knew he would find no rest there, his sleep was haunted by harrowing night terrors of his past, and some that told of his possible future. In one, he had envisioned his conversation with Nen Yim - or rather, Sekot.

Nom Anor did not believe in ghosts nor in visions, it had to have been Sekot?s divine influence over all that resided on this world, who else could it have been? Who else had he ?almost? killed?
Nen Yim was dead and gone, Sekot had motive to provoke him in some way and had offered him a chance at freedom. But Nom Anor had meant what he had said to the infidel Solo?s - he was no more Yuuzhan Vong than he was infidel himself. He belonged to no one, a stranger to all worlds. His only chance at survival was to manipulate himself a powerful future, one in which he, Nom Anor, made all the rules and he intended to achieve said future this time.
Sekot, he mused, would be the gnat in his dragweed broth if he was not careful. It was a good job then, that he had already devised a plan to deal with said proverbial gnat.
And if he was correct in his predictions, the solution would be permanent. All he need do was arrive at his destination and set things in motion.