Moff Delian Mors
Added 2022-06-02 20:24:07 +0000 UTCBodyEx told me avbout Moff Delian Mors from the book Lords of the Sith, and I had to draw her. This is a canon Star Wars character.
Comments
Well, I’m always up for some Star Wars and this was a REALLY GOOD piece, so I just decided not to sleep last night, got the book on kindle, and read it. Mors is not super impactful, but isn’t bad either. Aside from her introduction, her size is not brought out much. But considering how much Star Wars fats use Hutts as contrast, it’s still a good little section. The rest of the book isn’t bad, but isn’t too notable. It’s a nice little Vader romp, but with the differences that the Emperor is tagging along and basically being an internet troll, and has lots of continuity with Star Wars: Clone Wars & Star Wars: Rebels tv shows. Plus slight Vader angst, but nothing new. ~5/10, read for novelty.
SilverSnowWolf
2022-06-03 17:11:49 +0000 UTCWarning: spoilers. Thought, it’s not really big or anything. A walking path meandered through colorful flowers, bushes, and dwarf versions of the native trees. Belkor found Mors, looking as overstuffed and soft as the villa’s furnishings, seated on a bench near a fountain in the center of the courtyard, leaning into a conversation with a Hutt. The Hutt’s three-meter-long sluglike body, covered in wrinkled, leathery skin, convulsed in something that might have been laughter. It took Belkor a great deal of effort to keep the disgust from his face. He filed the presence of the Hutt away in the cabinet of his mind, intending to look into travel records later. Implicating Mors in a conspiracy with the Hutts, who were engaged in any number of criminal enterprises, would give him another tool to discredit the Moff. Mors held up a finger to forestall Belkor’s advance while she concluded her business with the Hutt. Watching the exchange, Belkor was struck by the similarities between the two. Both woman and alien looked like overfilled sausages, only Mors was wrapped in a wrinkled uniform rather than leathery skin. Her watery eyes and vaguely slack expression showed that she was in a spice haze. The Hutt’s watery eyes and slack expression showed that he was, in fact, a typical specimen of his kind. “Who is that?” Belkor asked his escort softly. “Nashi the Hutt, an envoy from Jabba.” Neither of the names meant anything to Belkor, but he filed them away, too. “What does the Empire have to do with the Hutts?” he asked. To that, the officer said nothing. Belkor did not press. Meanwhile, Hutt and human shared a belly laugh—the Hutt’s tone unexpectedly high-pitched—and Mors gestured for Belkor and his officer escort to approach. “Come, Belkor!” Mors said, then, to the officer, “Lieutenant, please see that Nashi is returned to his ship. Oh, and see to it that he’s given three cases of Theenwine.” “Yes, ma’am,” said the officer. Lies always came easy to Belkor. “That was the…appearance of the Hutt, ma’am. Luxury does not offend me. With rank come privileges.” Mors smiled and leaned back on the bench, nodding. “See? There’s a serif on those words. Did you hear it? Ha! Well, indeed rank does have its privileges. We’re both stationed at the ass end of the Empire, so I say we should make the most of it.” “Of course, ma’am.” “What about you, Belkor? You exercise few of those privileges. Will you have a wine with me?” She clapped her hands and a pale-green Twi’lek woman in a head wrap and tight-fitting tunic and trousers emerged from the nearby foliage with a ewer of wine and two goblets. Belkor had not noticed her before. “I…need to stay clearheaded for my return trip, ma’am.” “Your loss,” Mors said as the slave poured. “So, what brings you to my little moon, Belkor? Is all well on the planet?” The woman truly was as stupid as she was indolent. “My quarterly report on Ryloth is due, ma’am.” “Is it?” Mors looked genuinely shocked. She fiddled with the tight bun of her hair for a moment. “My, time passes quickly.” “Particularly when one is as busy as you are,” Belkor said, and managed not to smirk. “Quite right,” Mors said. She took a gulp of wine. “If we must, we must. Proceed, Colonel. What’s happening on that arid rock underneath us?” She took stock of her body, thought nothing was broken, so she used her arm to lift herself from the deck. Her aged, overweight frame ached, but she managed to sit upright. She blinked away a wave of dizziness. It had been a while since Mors had flown anything herself, but she figured she could manage a shuttle. She unstrapped Breehld, took him under the armpits, and dragged him into the passenger compartment. Even that small effort left her gasping and covered in a sheen of sweat. She’d let herself go, she realized. She’d let everything go. And it had cost her. “I can’t say for sure,” she said. She could not make eye contact with Borkas. “I’ve been…absent, Steen.” “Yes,” Borkas said. “Things changed after you lost Murra. When was that, four years ago now?” Mors nodded. She hadn’t heard anyone else say her wife’s name in a long time. She’d died in a transport accident on Coruscant. A fluke, a system malfunction had flown her and ten other civilians into the side of a building. For months afterward Mors had imagined what Murra must have felt as the transport accelerated. Terror? Resignation? The loss had eroded her, then broken her. “Things didn’t change,” she said. “I did.” After Murra had died, she’d found herself purposeless and content in her purposelessness, just drifting. She’d turned hedonistic, grown lazy. Worse, she’d lost her ability or desire to discern a quality commander from a flatterer. So she’d promoted Belkor and those like him, while ignoring people like Steen Borkas. And now she’d lost a Star Destroyer, the Emperor, Lord Vader, and maybe a planet.
SilverSnowWolf
2022-06-03 17:02:58 +0000 UTCImma have to look into this...
Wæn Manikan
2022-06-02 21:32:01 +0000 UTC
