The Star Wars Fanon Collaborative Writing Project

Happy Star Wars Day! To commemorate this annual celebration of Star Wars fandom, Wikia and Star Wars Fanon have partnered to host The Star Wars Fanon Collaborative Writing Project!

What does that mean? It's simple&mdash;you get to help write an original fan fiction story set in the Star Wars universe, taking place during the events of Star Wars: Episode IV A New Hope.

In this fan-written adventure, Imperial forces under the command of General Cassio Tagge investigate Princess Leia's claim that there is a Rebel base on Dantooine. The base looks abandoned, but looks can be deceiving. Rebel forces, led by Davish Krail, are still on the planet&mdash;and are ready to fight the Empire.

Our story ends on May 18, so take that into consideration when writing your entries.

Ready to write? Just take a few moments to familiarize yourself with the rules of this writing project, then edit this page to start writing. You'll post your entry after the most recent contribution in "The Story" section of this page. Most importantly, only contribute two paragraphs at a time, and wait for at least two other fans to contribute before writing another entry.



The Story
Growing up on Tepasi, Cassio Tagge dreamed of traveling through space on all sorts of adventures. His mother, Sanya, used to tell him that the cosmos were the purest works of art in all of reality. For something almost entirely made of emptiness, it never ceased to amaze so many beings who voyaged beyond their own world.

Flying through space offered Tagge a solitude that few could even dream of. Unless he hopped onto a hyperlane, the odds of encountering another soul were slim. One could never really know when someone would appear out of nowhere, least of all in this war-torn age, but everything else was predictable. There was a regularity to the universe that spacers like him cherished, an orderly chaos that compelled the earliest peoples and civilizations to reach out and colonize almost every corner of the known galaxy.

None were so great as the Galactic Empire. General Tagge stood aboard the command deck of the Super Star Destroyer Annihilator, a massive behemoth of a vessel that quietly moved into orbit above the planet Dantooine. From above, Dantooine was barely distinguishable from most other habitable worlds. This great green ball of farmlands and valleys was deep in the Outer Rim. It was a world that still felt like a frontier, with a population that barely cracked one million. Despite the Emperor's promise of taming these frontiers, Tagge couldn't help but respect what Dantooine represented.

The bridge of the Annihilator was far less peaceful. It was brimming with commotion, as officers and soldiers attended to their duties throughout the command area. The dimly lit deck gave off a gloomy atmosphere, one befitting a vessel from Tagge's cherished Imperial fleet. Though he was the head of the Imperial Army, Tagge understood, more than most, that the real power of the Emperor's forces were not reckless misadventures like the Death Star, but in a fleet that could blanket the cosmos and protect worlds like Dantooine.

Tagge turned away from the windows that adorned the forward section of the bridge, stretching from side to side, letting all within it to peer out into the vast expanse of the Emperor's domain. He approached the pit where the bridge crew worked, making a glancing inspection of their performance as he walked the line of computer consoles. Each of them went about their duties with utmost precision. It was no surprise to Tagge, of course. Those who served under his command were the best officers in the fleet.

"Ensign Katarn," Tagge said as he approached the communications station at the back of the bridge. "Do you have the final report from a scout team?"

The young officer handed Tagge the report from the scout team. Tagge took the datapad and scanned the data, eyeing it once, then twice, then a third time, all to make sure that the data seemed in order. The results were hardly surprising. Tagge argued against this mission; the fleet had only been sent to Dantooine on a tip from Princess Leia Organa, who claimed that the Rebel Alliance base was on Dantooine. Army Intelligence disputed the claims, but Governor Tarkin had a soft spot for the princess, despite her many seditious crimes. To have destroyed Alderaan anyway... Tagge believed, more than ever, that the Death Star&mdash;Tarkin's folly, he called it&mdash;would be the Empire's undoing.

Yet he still had a duty. Tagge told the ensign, "Send a report back to Governor Tarkin aboard the DS-1 platform. We've found the remains of a Rebel base, but it was abandoned some time ago. I will personally lead an inspection of the surrounding area. More information to follow. Sent on this day, from this place, by General Cassio Tagge, Chief of the Imperial Army. Out."

Davish Krail had never wanted to leave home, but the Rebellion called to him. Dantooine was not subjected to the wrath of the Empire, simply its rule, but Davish had watched the holo-feeds for years as news rolled in of Imperial atrocities. Antar 4. Ryloth. Gorse. Lothal. The list of crimes committed in the name of the false Emperor Palpatine was unending and unmerciful. Not even a farmer like Davish, tucked away in his safe corner of the galaxy, could stand idly by as a spectator.

He wanted all worlds to be more like Dantooine, to have the peace that it maintained. The settlers here were dreamers, ones who imagined what their future could be and did everything they could to work towards it. They toiled through the hardships they endured, all with the faint hope of one day creating a new life and a better world for themselves and for their families. It was an oasis of serenity, a place where beings from all walks of life could come to escape the rigors of the galaxy and live in solitude. They were farmers and inventors, writers and artists, retirees and the elderly. They all sought to make their dream lives in the fields of Dantooine.

The Empire wanted to take that away. News about Alderaan's destruction were already beginning to spread amongst the Rebel ranks that Davish led here. They may have abandoned their base, letting the Empire believe that the Rebellion had no presence on Dantooine, but they hadn't abandoned Dantooine. Nor would they, not after Alderaan. If the Empire could destroy an entire world, then any Imperial presence, no matter how minor, was a threat to every planet in the galaxy.

Davish and a squadron of Rebel soldiers hid at the top of a valley, overlooking the abandoned Rebel base below&mdash;and the Imperials who patrolled the outskirts of it. As Rebel snipers prepared to stand at the ready, a lone Sentinel-class shuttle touched down at the base's landing area. Davish grabbed his macrobinoculars and looked down to see a procession of stormtroopers flood out, followed by the unmistakable face of one of the Empire's most ruthless military leaders.

"Tagge."

Davish placed the macrobinoculars down and signaled for his forces to aim at the general. Tagge stood outside the shuttle, saluting his scout team, not knowing what was about to happen. How could he? This was a man renowned for his trust in data, and the data thus far must have told him that the Rebels were gone. Why else would he dare travel to the surface? Tagge was about to learn the consequences of his short-sightedness.

"Soldiers," Davish whispered, "...open fire." - Brandon Rhea  (talk) 16:48, May 4, 2015 (UTC)

The barrage of laser fire was almost too much for Tagge or his troopers to comprehend. Dozens of bolts of super-heated plasma burned through the air. The fire was coming from the peak of the valley that overlooked the landing field. None hit their mark, for the scout team of crack-shot stormtroopers were trained to protect their senior officers at all cost. A trooper donning an orange commander's-pauldron dove forward and nocked Tagge out of the line of fire and helped him behind the landing craft. Tagge regained his balance, and nodded to the trooper in thanks. The trooper had taken a shot for the General and gingerly nodded back through hi helmet as he groaned and tended to the wound on hid hip. Tagge drew his blaster pistol, a model commonly used by hunters on his homeworld, and fired back at the attacker&mdash;Rebels, he could now see&mdash;from an awkward angle around the shuttle's cockpit.

"Commander," Tagge yelled in his customary Tepasi accent, "They are too well equipped. Order your troops to hold their fire. I have a plan."

"Sir, It's not my place to question orders... But your reputation proceeds you." the wounded commander said as he slapped a bacta patch onto his wound. Nivlacanator (talk) 01:52, May 5, 2015 (UTC)

War was never as loud or as glorious as the holovids had always seemed to promise. As a young man, Davish had spent many late-night hours at the battered holotheater in downtown New Khoonda, watching reruns of the classic war films and fantasizing about the heroics and glories of battle. The legendary clashes of Mandalorian savages and noble Revanchist Jedi immortalized in Revan Rising, the fearsome naval battles of the Great Galactic War in The Return of the Sith, all set to swelling soundtracks, crisp dialogue, and cliched characterizations; this was the stuff of youth, and Davish had often gone to bed with the images of battle still swirling about his mind.

The scene unfolding in the valley below, as glimpsed from his macrobinoculars, could not have been any more foreign to those youthful preconceptions of battle. It was eerily quiet, the silence punctuated only by the occasional rapid discharge of an automatic firearm or the hastily barked order of a gunnery sergeant somewhere further along the ridge-line. There were no emotive orchestral arrangements, no heroic charges for death and glory, no classic one-liners to dying foes; just men sweating in the midday sun, seeking to prolong their lives but a little while longer.

He watched as a Stormtrooper dropped lifeless into a gaping puddle of mud down in the valley, a hole blown into the shining white of his stomach plate. Davish was suddenly struck by a desire to know what the man's name was, where he came from, what hopes or dreams had occupied his mind in his final moments. Had he wondered if he would die that day, his body shattered to pieces on some backwater world? Would he have rather remained home, his children upon his lap, recounting the tales of his exploits on one distant world or another? Would he be missed and remembered, or would his loss go unnoticed? Davish would never know the answers to these questions. War was a harsh mistress, for she played no favorites, and she told no secrets.  Fire  dance  12:51, May 7, 2015 (UTC)