Seasonal Creepy Crawly Contenst (Halloween One-Shot)

[Allyson Locke]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! I hope everyone has an amazing time. This is the start of the One Shot Prompts! A few things before the prompts are revealed. I want everyone to have fun and really explore the character or character(s) they have chosen to write. Stretch the legs and get the creative juices flowing, nothing here is too much or too little. Every first thread will have two prompts for you to chose from.

So here are the rules:
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1. Follow all rules of the site - while it is a very open challenge, you still need to adhere to the general rules of the board.​
2. All prompts must exceed 300 words. - really want you to stretch your mind and formulate a complete story with the prompt given​
3. All stories can be canon or non-canon - up to you if you want to use this to give your character a fun spin off​
4. Do not use other people's characters WITHOUT permission - with your post if you're using someone else's character please provide proof that you have permission. ​
5. You are allowed to do both prompts - if you do all prompts please separate them with different posts​
6. Keep all stories to 1 post - no back and forth or additional posts (unless posting other stories for prompts) ​
7. Have fun! ​

Without further ado, here are your prompts!
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1. You've died. What do you do as your first day as a ghost? ​
2. You have a few friends over for a Halloween party. You've just finished watching a scary holovid when the power goes out and the door is slammed open. What happens next?​

Make the stories funny, scary, or completely crazy! Have fun and please enjoy it. Also at the end of this since this is the first one I'll take any and all feedback I want to make these things a monthly treat! Also if you have ideas for additional prompts for the future PLEASE message me!

Let's have fun!​

 

[Dominik Borra]

I've heard a lot about Force Ghosts. Takes special training and strong attunement to the Force to be able to manifest yourself after death. Then they could live on in a sense, imparting their wisdom and advice to those coming after them, padawans and grandkids and worshippers and the like. But it was special. According to the Jedi and Sith, everyone else just melds back into the ever-living and omnipresent Force that penetrates and binds every living thing in the galaxy together.

So why was I still conscious?


I felt fantastic walking down the street on Coruscant, like I had the energy to run and jump and climb, like I was a youth once again, a child on Life Day. All the aches and pain built up over a lifetime of battle, injuries I had gotten used to and forgotten, were suddenly gone, I flexed my hands and realized my left hand felt... real. It had been replaced with a robotic prosthetic decades ago, and while the nerves had been almost indistinguishable, I felt the tenshion a clenched fist or a stretched hand had. That was odd. And not a very good sudden realization. I looked at my gloved hands before pulling down the sleeve of my coat. Skin and flesh.

And then like my eyes coming into focus, I realized I wasn't alone on the walkway. I was surrounded by uniformed officers and flashing lights on speeders, crime scene tape blocking off an area. And no one looked at me. At least to myself, I assumed those officers walking around couldn't see me. Two detectives, one a little rounder around the gut and another that I had known personally, stood a few feet away, looking down at something on the ground. I looked down as well.

It was me, lying on the ground. Someone had made sure to kill me the right way, as if I had advised them myself. My head was gone, replaced with red paste that had scattered and dried the whole way down the walkway. The way I had fallen and the direction of the spatter indicated I had been shot in the back of the head. While the spatter went far, the majority of it was near my feet, my corpse landing in it. That meant that while there were some projectile outliers, the majority went downwards. So I was shot in the back of the head from above at a steep angle. The two detectives also looked upwards, coming to the same conclusion.

Well. Talk about a bad day. A lot of people had tried to kill me in the past. Everyone had failed, even a Sith Emporer and quite a few Sith Lords and Maw Gods. I had made it out because of good tactics, better allies, a fair amount of luck, and the other guy not playing as smart as I had. I never fought fair, that's how you lost. And now someone with a brain had decided to take me out. But why was I still here? Everything I knew told me I shouldn't be. Yet I was. I frowned. And then thought about how I was able to frown. I had a form, hands, and a body. I was even dressed. I wondered if a Jedi could see me if one was present, and if maybe I could find my killer. I knew a lot of people who might try to get revenge for me, and I may as well help them out. As much as it'd hurt Nikki to hear of my death and I wanted to hurt anyone who in turn hurt her, I also wanted to meet the person responsible for taking me out. Not a vengeful meeting, but one out of professional curiosity. Maybe a little vengeful.

I had to discover rules for this existence first, however. I took some steps, willing myself forward. I could move, that was good. I reached out towards the rounder detective, my hand phasing through his shoulder. He didn't so much as shiver or get goosebumbs. I tried speaking, then I shouted.

"Hey, lets go up the building here and check out rooms on this side with windows on our way to the roof." The rounder one commented.

The other nodded and they moved on, unaware of my presence. Probably only those with Force Sensitivity could perceive me. So I tucked my cold hands in my pocket, found it interesting that I felt cold, and followed after them to find my killer.

 

[Mairéad Solus]

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Location: Castella Matrisca - Epica
Objective: Halloween party
Tags: Ivory Stroud Marcella Fiora Stardust Solus Skirae Dedata | Celty Ree Xiann Sivron Niki Priddy EW-031 Jade Solus Skirae

Spoiler: Equipment:

Velmorite bladed lightsaber in purse
Ladies Watch
Serenity bracelet
FDS-4F blaster pistol in lumbar holster
Empyrean Gland
The Family Finger
Marzanna
Datapad

Mairéad was having a lovely time, it was overtly a Halloween party, that is why she had been invited today, but she had realised quite quickly when it was only the women of the Family in attendance that something was amiss. The games were different too... but the horror was real. All manner of games involving changing artificial babies, complete with projectile sensory attachments. There were other silly games like guessing the taste of various purees and liquidised foods. It was fun. The party was in her honour, but this was probably the least "gangster" that Mairéad had felt in years.

But she loved her Family, they were her friends too, and as Caporegime she had enough influence to suggest perhaps that Xiann Sivron might be the one to taste the garlic puree, much to her distaste. Seeing the otherwise technologically gifted Dedata | Celty Ree wrestling with a screaming baby mannequin while trying to change it was something Mairéad would rememer forever. She was sure that she overheard the woman saying she would hack the little robot and have it crawling in engine compartments.

Then it was time for gifts and cakes, her mother Stardust Solus Skirae and her wife Jade Solus Skirae had bought her the most beautiful beskar plated hover pram. The engraving inside from her made brought Mairéad to tears and she gladly accepted a warm hug from the gathered women. The cake, hand made by her closest confidente, Marcella Fiora was stunning, she could have paid someone, anyone, to do it, and perhaps it would have been a little more silky smooth had she done so, but Marcella was special to Mairéad and the cryomancer appreciated the effort she had gone to. Placing her hand over the underboss's and squeezing it in gratitude, she would be with Mai like noone else through this.

It was all so wonderful, so sweet, and yet, something felt slightly out of place, all this calmness and merriment, she was a member of the coruscanti mafia, and it was Halloween, it just didn't feel right thar everything was so.... nice.

KU-CHUNK

All the lights went out and Mai felt her heart stop... they had had run ins with the local families. They had made threats too, what if attacking them while they celebrated something so special was there way of reasserting their claim to dominance over their territory.

Mai could barely breathe, the air began to chill around her and she felt herself holding Marcella's hand tightly.

SLAM

The door flew open and silhouetted was a single male figure, Mai couldnt see his face, but he was 6 and an half feet at least and his frame looked like it contained nothing but muscle. Noone reacted as he stepped forwards into the room.

"Is this the residence of Mairéad Solus?... you're in a lot of trouble..."

He took another step.

"We've had some worrying reports... I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you... down town..." a single light projected from EW-031 hit the man, a musclebound Epican police officer as he removed his hat and it spun through the air to land in Mairéad's lap, gently resting on her now visible bump. Music began to play and the other women began to cheer and woop. Mairéad rolled her eyes and looked at Ivory Stroud "You're welcome, love" the beautiful Donna said, touching her wide brimmed hat with her ringed finger. Mairéad turned back to the man who was fast approaching and began to smile to herself, catching his shirt and dropping it over her head to enjoy its warmth.

She rocked her head back and cheered.

Now it felt like a mafia party.



​

 

[Caltin Vanagor]

1. You've died. What do you do as your first day as a ghost?

AROUND 900 YEARS AGO

Jedi Master Caltin Vanagor was an ace pilot, it was one of the two areas he specialized in (he was also a very capable mechanic/engineer). The problem is that he was in a light freighter and being engaged by not 1, not 3, but 5 'Supa Fighters' and all of them experts in their own right. They had the drop on him and his Padawan Danuae already and all he could do was try and create options. Danuae was doing incredibly well given the circumstances, working the guns and shouting positions of fighters but this was a losing game.

Danuae! Get to the escape pod.

"Not without you, Master!" She shouted from her position as the entire ship was rocked by cannon fire.

You have your own path to walk. "R2?"

The massive Jedi Master did not want to do this, and neither did R2-T3, his long time droid, but the astromech shocked her unconscious and dragged the Padawan into the pod. As R2 was about to turn and leave, Caltin reached out through the Force and shut the door, much to its protest. As the launch sequence commenced, Caltin said "goodbye" to his best friend.

Take care of Danuae, she'll need you, and enjoy the freedom you were never truly allowed.

The ship was going down, and this was going to be it, but he would not go down without a fight, he somehow managed to destroy 2 of the 5 fighters. Alas though, it was not meant to be as he set the locator beacon as he went down and the ship slammed into and skidded across the ground. It was when the ship crashed into a cave that the entire side of the mountain collapsed. He was trapped, and barely alive.

It was only a matter of time.


CURRENT DAY

Jedi Master Caltin Vanagor was found in the ice of Rhen Var, Imperial territory, by the Silver Jedi Concord. He had been reanimated and re-entered the galaxy only to see more turmoil than he had been in the middle of when he last left it. The culture shock, added to the culture shock of literally everyone that he had known being long passed on to become one with the Force was hard, but he managed. Caltin managed to cut a swath through those who would endanger the Silver Concord, the Galactic Alliance and the galaxy as a whole. There is one problem though.

This was not Caltin Vanagor.

Caltin indeed became one with the Force that fateful day on the ice planet, yet somehow he was still aware of his existence. He was a ghost through the Force, yet could not be seen by anyone, Jedi, Gray, or Sith. Traveling through the galaxy, all the ghost could do was try to catch up to his visceral imposter and solve the mystery. Minutes turned to hours, hours turned to days, days to turned to weeks, weeks to months, months to years and nothing until finally the spirit of the Force was face to face with his own body, yes, this was his body, but who was inside it? How would they communicate? He didn't have to wonder…

"Caltin" was looking at him.

I was wondering when you would find me.

The spirit of the Jedi was shocked to say the least.

You can see me… who are you?

The imposter spirit in his body smiled.

Why I am Jedi Master Caltin Anselmo Vanagor. Scourge of the Dark side, annoyance of much of the Light.

Caltin the astral spirit was not impressed or laughing, which of course left the body scoffing.

What does it matter at this point?

You have stolen my life, my body, and my name!That is why it matters?

Then the imposter leaned in a little closer, to symbolically whisper to the astral form of the actual Jedi. Of all of the Padawans assigned to you, only one was lost. Not your last one, either…

Then it all seemed to make sense. Darth Aricsias. There was a nod. It all made sense now, this spirit inside of his body was the very first Padawan assigned to him, one he never let himself truly get close to or bond with. Sure, he taught the young man all he knew, and gave him all of the skills he could hope for, but the Padawan needed friendship and it was something Caltin had never known, truly known how to give. He disappeared during the New Republic retaking of Coruscant, considered KIA, and Caltin had never looked for him feeling he failed. Until a few years later when he received word of him falling to the Dark Side.

You never looked for me, you never bothered. I needed a friend, a mentor, you kept me at arm's length. I never truly felt good enough to be a Jedi thanks to you. That was proven when I was captured, and you left me behind!

I couldn't give you the friendship you needed because I never had it myself. That is no excuse though, I failed you, and for that… I am sorry. One thing Caltin Vanagor has never been was a liar, or one who minced words. Aricsias did not need wonder whether his former master was sincere or not, he knew it true. That only served to anger him further.

You think I am doing this as some sort of revenge? The head shook "no" emphatically.

The galaxy does not need you anymore, but this is the second chance you needed. I am fixing the mess you made. For all of your mistreatment of me, I forgive you, I already did, but I am not doing this for you, I am doing this in spite of you! I am being the "Caltin Vanagor" you should have been!

Now this was getting confusing.

What is "this"? What are you talking about?

Listen… All either of them could hear was a baby cry. One that sounded eerily familiar… his son… Connell…

WHA?! Sitting up in a start, he was in bed, it was dark, it was a dream. A dream?

Or a message?

 

[Ashin Cardé Varanin]

Circa 836 ABY
The Jaquenta

It should have been a transit, a moment between a tired old body and a better one. The ritual promised that sense of certainty - of control. Everything had been arranged to that end by expert hands.

They slipped. The other side had a stronger grip.

Numb cold stole Ashin's familiar pains - in her chest, and the stump of the arm Darron Wraith had taken at Roche, and a dozen more. That numbness closed over her head like water as slimy and opaque as a bog. She clung to consciousness by instinct. The oldest holocrons had mantras for retaining self during a transfer like this; they all escaped her.

She'd expected, hoped, to stay close to the slab where her body lay. That specially chosen place was gone.

No more sterile ritual chamber. Cold stone on either side, and blank murk overhead. A crevice, a passageway, a very narrow canyon with high blue-gray walls. She put a hand against each wall - a real right hand, or the idea of one. Vertigo pulled her to her knees in smooth, dusty sand.

She'd spent her share of time at Korriban monuments in the kind of privacy only an empress could command. This place felt far, far older.

The crevice was a path that faded into gloom in both directions. What stone protruded from the sand was worn down by passage. She placed her hands flat against the ground. Her identical hands: the right one looked and felt like it had a year ago, before the amputation. When she looked up, crude carvings decorated one rough stone wall. They fit no script or iconography she'd seen before, not in the Jedi academy of her youth or the Sith Empire's most guarded archives or her long years in the Unknown Regions. Nothing matched. She had the sense that all those scripts and iconographies were vanishingly young.

This place did not care about the heights she'd ascended or the violence she'd withstood.

When she stood, panic roared up. By now the ritual should have taken hold, welded her to the new body Zankarr had grown. This had to be some vision or some aspect of the Netherworld, which meant that she was sliding. Sinking. Time was rooted in the body; without one, she couldn't say how fast this place was becoming a natural-feeling reality, or how overdue the ritual was.

She looked back and forth along the crevice path. Walking offered options. Staying still was unacceptable; she needed to be elsewhere, needed to get traction. If this was death, a final death, she could make a kingdom here on the fringes of reality as some had done before her.

Well, maybe not a kingdom. In her heart of hearts, she'd only taken Moridin's throne to see if she could do it. Thrones were unsatisfying things. Moridin had taught her that; she'd just been too slow to hear. But a place - she could make herself a place anywhere.

That idea felt like freedom. And when Zankarr's ritual yanked her back to life and this place grew dark and distant, Ashin felt a spark of disappointment.