KotOR I: Orin Dakall
folder
+G through L › Knights of the Old Republic
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
55
Views:
10,138
Reviews:
44
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+G through L › Knights of the Old Republic
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
55
Views:
10,138
Reviews:
44
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Knights of the Old Republic, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Fourty Six: Cheater
Boy, I’m really getting tired of having to apologize every time I post. Obviously I’m late, and I really am sorry for that. Also for this not being uber-long, as I wanted it to be. But I’ve had my schedule hijacked (on top of underestimating just how long it is taking to get my new compy set up and getting caught up to this point in the game). I figured something was better than nothing.
So again, I’m really sorry. I’ll do everything I can to get more up, but it may not be until Saturday.
Thanks for reading.
-----
An announcement blared through the speakers. Fifteen minutes til the next match. Orin cursed and grabbed a medpac from Mission’s pile of loot.
“Should you really be doing this?” Carth asked her, eyeing the blood oozing from the half dozen minor wounds she’d received. She slammed the needle into her jugular and pressed down on the plunger.
“I’m fine,” she said, once she’d pulled the needle from her throat. “Don’t be such a worrywart.” She tossed the empty pac to him and sauntered back toward the ring.
“Idiot,” he muttered. She turned and stuck her tongue out at him before spinning back and continuing on.
The match was pretty dull. Twitch would shoot. Orin would dodge. Orin would shoot. Twitch would dodge. The audience members were beginning to grumble mutinously.
“What is she doing?” Mission asked through a mouthful of vendor food, her eyes fixed unwaveringly on the match. “She missed with that sniper shot on purpose, I know it!”
“If she thinks she’s entertaining the crowd, she’s going to get an unpleasant surprise,” Carth said, noting Mission’s fanaticism with concern.
“She’s toying with him.”
They turned to look at Bastila, who was staring darkly at Orin. They followed her grim gaze as the crowd gasped en masse and the announcer, sounding bewildered, declared Orin the winner.
She’d waited until Twitch had gotten lax, then sent a sniper shot right between his eyes. The shields had saved his life, but they didn’t protect him from being hurled backwards or getting his head slammed into the ring’s floor.
It was as she turned to leave the ring, and as the shields powered down, that she got a blaster bolt to the back.
Pandemonium broke out. Half the crowd was trying to get out quietly to safety, and the other half was pulling their own weapons and goading those around them into fights. Carth had to hold Mission back to keep her from storming the ring.
“Let me go!” she shouted, fighting to get free. “Didn’t you see what-- She’s hurt! We have to see if she’s all right! We have to, to shoot the guy who shot her!”
Zaalbar growled something lowly and she reluctantly stilled. Carth’s grip didn’t lessen.
“Fine. I’m not going anywhere.” No change. “Carth?”
Carth’s arms were wrenched open by Zaalbar, and Mission stepped free, turning.
He was pale and his eyes were fixed on a mass of crowd, boring through them to the ring floor, where Orin had fallen.
Zaalbar grunted and he and Mission scanned the nearby faces.
“Hey, you’re right, Big Z...” Mission said slowly, “Where’s Bastila?”
-----
Bastila slipped past the last of the crowd between her and the ring. A med droid hovered over Orin, who was still on the ground, but now was propped up on her elbows, wincing.
Bastila stopped in front of her, and Orin slowly brought her eyes up to meet her face.
“You see who did it?”
“I assumed it was the Rodian you fought,” she said dismissively.
“Except he was knocked on the head severely enough to not be able to comprehend that he’d lost. And I talked to the guy earlier--” She groaned as the droid prodded at a patch of charred skin, her jaw clenching. “He doesn’t seem the type.”
“I don’t care,” Bastila said simply. “I want to talk to you about something.”
Orin’s eyes closed as the droid began removing the burnt tissue. “Obviously not about whoever tried to kill me,” she said, strained.
“Correct. I would like to know what happened after you crashed on Taris. I’m... curious as to what you and Carth were doing before we all joined forces.”
So again, I’m really sorry. I’ll do everything I can to get more up, but it may not be until Saturday.
Thanks for reading.
-----
An announcement blared through the speakers. Fifteen minutes til the next match. Orin cursed and grabbed a medpac from Mission’s pile of loot.
“Should you really be doing this?” Carth asked her, eyeing the blood oozing from the half dozen minor wounds she’d received. She slammed the needle into her jugular and pressed down on the plunger.
“I’m fine,” she said, once she’d pulled the needle from her throat. “Don’t be such a worrywart.” She tossed the empty pac to him and sauntered back toward the ring.
“Idiot,” he muttered. She turned and stuck her tongue out at him before spinning back and continuing on.
The match was pretty dull. Twitch would shoot. Orin would dodge. Orin would shoot. Twitch would dodge. The audience members were beginning to grumble mutinously.
“What is she doing?” Mission asked through a mouthful of vendor food, her eyes fixed unwaveringly on the match. “She missed with that sniper shot on purpose, I know it!”
“If she thinks she’s entertaining the crowd, she’s going to get an unpleasant surprise,” Carth said, noting Mission’s fanaticism with concern.
“She’s toying with him.”
They turned to look at Bastila, who was staring darkly at Orin. They followed her grim gaze as the crowd gasped en masse and the announcer, sounding bewildered, declared Orin the winner.
She’d waited until Twitch had gotten lax, then sent a sniper shot right between his eyes. The shields had saved his life, but they didn’t protect him from being hurled backwards or getting his head slammed into the ring’s floor.
It was as she turned to leave the ring, and as the shields powered down, that she got a blaster bolt to the back.
Pandemonium broke out. Half the crowd was trying to get out quietly to safety, and the other half was pulling their own weapons and goading those around them into fights. Carth had to hold Mission back to keep her from storming the ring.
“Let me go!” she shouted, fighting to get free. “Didn’t you see what-- She’s hurt! We have to see if she’s all right! We have to, to shoot the guy who shot her!”
Zaalbar growled something lowly and she reluctantly stilled. Carth’s grip didn’t lessen.
“Fine. I’m not going anywhere.” No change. “Carth?”
Carth’s arms were wrenched open by Zaalbar, and Mission stepped free, turning.
He was pale and his eyes were fixed on a mass of crowd, boring through them to the ring floor, where Orin had fallen.
Zaalbar grunted and he and Mission scanned the nearby faces.
“Hey, you’re right, Big Z...” Mission said slowly, “Where’s Bastila?”
-----
Bastila slipped past the last of the crowd between her and the ring. A med droid hovered over Orin, who was still on the ground, but now was propped up on her elbows, wincing.
Bastila stopped in front of her, and Orin slowly brought her eyes up to meet her face.
“You see who did it?”
“I assumed it was the Rodian you fought,” she said dismissively.
“Except he was knocked on the head severely enough to not be able to comprehend that he’d lost. And I talked to the guy earlier--” She groaned as the droid prodded at a patch of charred skin, her jaw clenching. “He doesn’t seem the type.”
“I don’t care,” Bastila said simply. “I want to talk to you about something.”
Orin’s eyes closed as the droid began removing the burnt tissue. “Obviously not about whoever tried to kill me,” she said, strained.
“Correct. I would like to know what happened after you crashed on Taris. I’m... curious as to what you and Carth were doing before we all joined forces.”