Tyranus

Black ABS kits should be ready on Monday!! Numbers of sets are limited, so if you want a set, drop me an email!

Forming is going well, and the AM gear pieces look great in the Black ABS!! It looks like somewhere between the first and second week in August for kits to be ready. If you want a set, drop me an email now, this is a small, limited quantity run.

BLACK ABS is in! Forming begins next week. The run will consist of both White AND Black kits to hopefully be ready in early August. Drop me an email for more information: tupperwaretk@yahoo.com Thanks!

I'm sorry to see you go Tom. You will be missed.

There will be a run of kits in HIGH GLOSS BLACK ABS. They will have all the same specs of the original White kits, but in Black ABS. Plastic for the run has been special ordered, which will take 5-6 weeks to arrive, then there is time for forming, trimming, wrapping and packing, but optimistically we are looking at sometime in August for them to be ready. If you know someone looking for TX or Shadow trooper/Spec Ops gear, please pass the word as the black kits don't come along very often. If you are interested, drop me an email at: tupperwaretk@yahoo.com and I can add your name to an interest list. All orders will be on a first-come, first served basis, based on your order on the list. More information will come as it is available.

No spare yet, but Run #3 of the new Armor Master kits should be ready by about June 10th or so. If you are interested, please drop me an email at: tupperwaretk@yahoo.com Thanks!

I'll be there. TD0600 and I are driving down. Can't wait for the 501st party Saturday night.

It was nearly morning when Chewbacca rolled out of his modified crew bunk aboard the Millennium Falcon and noted that Solo’s bunk had not been slept in. The gentle giant stepped out into the main walkway that encircled the ship. As he stepped onto the smooth deck panels, he raised the strap of his bandolier with attached satchel over his head and situated it properly on his shoulder. Powerful Wookiee hands pushed one of the thick metallic erg clips back into its secure, centered position in the leather bandolier as he took a quick look into the cockpit. Solo was not there either. He gathered up the tool kit and welding set he had left on the gaming bench and headed for the main boarding ramp. The segmented, circular hatch rotated up into the ship, revealing the ramp, as the Wook stepped out onto its frigid, inclined surface. Once out, he closed the hatch, sealing in any heat to be found inside the ‘Falcon. It was very early and activity was sparse within the hangar. A few technicians worked on repairs to Wedge’s fighter and the ice cutting crew was assembled in a meeting huddle discussing the layout of the lower levels. Everyone wore thermal gear. Even in the relative protection afforded within their ice base, temperatures were still cold enough to cause damage if you weren’t properly insulated. Being a Wookiee, he didn’t have to worry about such things. A young rebel ran past with an armful of Tauntaun harnesses and waved to the hairy Wookiee. “Good morning Chewbacca.” Chewie woofed a pleasant grunted reply as the young woman continued running toward the corral. If Solo wasn’t around, this might be the perfect time to work on that faulty central landing claw. As he stepped off the ramp and crouched to move beneath the ship, his eyes peered under toward the claw . . . only to see Solo, in his parka with the hood up, sitting atop a supply crate with his is head resting against the extender hydraulics of the claw, fast asleep. A woof of frustration escaped the Wook’s lips as he turned away, quickly deciding instead to work on upgrading the ancient cooling lines that snaked across the upper hull. Only moments later a claxon screeched once, and the shield doors began to retract, opening up to another Hoth morning. The noise awakened Solo, who rolled his head to watch the doors open. The morning sky that lay beyond didn’t look any different than the dark, stormy sky he had flown through returning to base the night before. Winds whistled and groaned, blowing snow and fog inside the huge cavern. A blast of the cold air streamed through the hangar and across his exposed neck. Shivering a bit, he secured his parka up to just beneath his chin and pulled the furry hood nearly closed across his face. Mercifully, the haunting images of the nightmare he’d been having of his childhood on the streets of Corellia were fading rapidly as he began to fully awaken. Like shadows hiding from approaching light, they fell away from him. As they did, a new set of nightmarish thoughts slipped in to take their place; thoughts of Jabba The Hutt and how he must be hunting him over dumped cargo. It was something that needed to be taken care of, and soon. His reward money would more than cover the payoff and Fett was temporarily out of the picture until he could have the outrigger on Slave I remounted and repaired. His eyes darted to the edge of the hangar as a small group entered. Mon Mothma and Leia, flanked by Alia and Yane’ made their way slowly across the hangar, looking at the ships and discussing various plans and strategies. The base was still rough, but slowly beginning to come together. He decided to wait until the recon flights were completed and some sort of perimeter defense system was in place. He didn’t want to leave Leia behind until at least that level of protection was up and running. Leia. Thoughts of her raised a whole other set of issues. What about Bria? He had just learned of her death. Had she meant nothing to him? And what about Jenny back on Tatooine and all the others strewn across the galaxy? Was he ready to give them up for her? His eyes moved to the two techs working on Wedge’s ship and the empty space beside it. Why would Luke just disappear like that without any warning? The kid definitely had skills, but he also had a knack for needing a safety net. With Kenobi gone, he somehow felt compelled to step up and provide the backup as he had in the Battle of Yavin. Did he feel some kind of obligation to help this kid? His thoughts drifted away to another kid in another time; one whose face had haunted him in the murk of his dreams mere moments ago. He had been one of many street kids that night, out scavenging for food. All were too cocky for their own good; all were that way to hide the bottomless fear that threatened to consume them. On that particular night he’d found himself stuck watching out for that younger kid. What was his name? The shifting images of years long blurred began to coalesce, slowly revealing unpleasant and untidy memories of that ink-black night in the forgotten alleys of Corellia. Memories of that older gang member with the drawn blaster, accusations about them being in the wrong sector. Han was just a boy, but he had tried to be the honorable man. He had a small makeshift blaster, cobbled together from spare parts found in the scrap heaps near the shipyard. As terrified as he had been, with the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, he kept it holstered on his hip. He was just a street kid, but he still understood the concept of honor. He never revealed his fear, and he promised himself he wouldn’t kill on a hunch or a gut feeling. How utterly wrong that naïve little boy had been. It was here that the memory remained fuzzy. Time had seemed to slow that night in the alley. The older kid drew on them, followed by a flash from both the muzzle and rear of his gun. It discharged a bolt, but the energy coupler in the discharge chamber had exploded in the process, temporarily blinding the boy holding it. The smell of ozone rushed over him as he covered his eyes reflexively. As he did so, the youngster in his care crumpled to the street, having been hit at close range. In the confusion following, Han ran, as fast as he could away into the night, the sound of his heartbeat slamming against his eardrums. He hadn’t stopped running until he saw that small, dark space under the naval loading dock and scrambled inside. Ever since that night, whenever those neck hairs stood on end from a hunch, that life or death, knotted hunch in his gut . . . he took care of himself and those with him. He didn’t hesitate or think. He shot first, and worried about the details and the mess later. * * * The small belt hook ring on the lightsaber trembled, but would not rise. The weapon rested alongside Luke’s holocron atop a small bench. Luke sat on Kenobi’s bed, focusing intently on the lightsaber. His arm was extended toward the hilt, calling it, willing it into this hand. Obi Wan’s voice spoke again from the holocron. “Feel the Force push and pull like a great wind or the absence of air. Like water washing in and away from the shore. Feel the object’s energy and merge it to your own. Become one with it.” Still the belt hook merely trembled. Luke relaxed his arm. He was exhausted. Master Kenobi spoke again. “Do not think of the Force as a tool to be wielded. Think of it as an extension of your own energy, extending and BECOMING the tool. It will obey your commands just as your arm or your hand would because it is part of you, and you are part of it.” Luke took a breath and raised his hand again, relaxing this time and visualizing what he saw in Kenobi’s instruction. He imagined his own reach extending out to the hilt. The belt loop trembled again, a bit more agitated this time. He relaxed further, breathing evenly, envisioning his fingertip raising the loop. Across the room, the tiny ring snapped up to face him just as R2 rolled whistling through the doorway. His concentration broke, and the ring dropped. He exhaled, clearly frustrated. “Yes R2, we’re leaving soon.” As R2 rotated to leave, one of his outer feet struck the base of the bench. Both the holocron and the lightsaber were jarred and fell. Luke lunged forward making the split-second decision to grab the holocron, allowing the saber hilt to fall to the stone floor with a loud clattering. “R2 be careful!” He put the holocron on the bed and knelt down to pick up his lightsaber. When he picked it up, several small pieces of clear glass fell to the floor. He rolled it over to see that the ancient glass sensor eye had shattered. Shielding his eyes and holding the hilt as far away from his body as he could, he pressed the activation button. Instead of the normal, meter-long energy shaft, a small needle-thin shaft of barely twelve centimeters appeared. Sparks popped and fell from inside the shattered lens as the blade suddenly stretched out to full length. Just as quickly back to the short length, and began cycling between the two length settings. Disgusted, Luke switched it off as he shot R2 a look. The little droid rotated his dome away, avoiding eye contact. “Great. The length adjustment is shot. Now what am I going to do? You broke it R2!” Suddenly, above the holocron, the image of Kenobi flickered and disappeared, replaced with a display of schematics; lightsaber schematics. Luke leaned in close, studying them as Kenobi’s voice whispered. “You will need the tools and parts from my home and the cave, and then . . . you will need to take them to one final place. Find those pieces and I will guide you the rest of the way.” * * *

The still quiet of the darkened med lab was broken only by the occasional whine or flutter of a machine or ‘droid. Holder lay in his bed thinking. Kaird was here, now on this planet again, and while it was likely that he didn’t even remember about the tracker in his head, for Holder, the elapsed twenty years since the implant was fired into the back of his head only seemed like days. He stared at the ceiling, with half memories still flashing and falling into place in his head, keeping sleep just out of reach. He gave up trying to get rest and instead, slid a hand under his pillow, retrieving a sheathed knife. As he turned off the bedside monitors, he ripped off their leads and pulled out his IV lines. Rolling to a sitting position on the edge of the bunk, he allowed himself a moment to adjust to being upright. He stood up, feeling the cool stone floor under his bare feet and the ID tags around his neck sliding back and forth across his chest as he walked silently toward the ‘fresher. Once inside he carefully closed and locked the door. A lone luminary winked on as the door closed, its intense light streaming down from just above a wall-mounted mirror. Silently, he stepped in front of it and locked eyes with his reflection. He hadn’t aged at all, but felt incredibly lost. He didn’t really belong in this time, and yet he no longer belonged in the past either. Twenty years gone in a flash. He closed his eyes and raised his left arm to his head, running the tip of his index finger slowly back across his scalp; over the top and toward the base of his skull. He was almost to the soft tissue of the neck when he felt the slight bulge beneath the skin, sitting up just above the bone. His eyes opened slightly as he slid his fingertip back and forth several times across the bump to ensure it was the right spot. Once convinced it was, he held his fingertip on it as he slid the knife from the sheath with his right hand. Carefully, and with a firm grip, he raised it to his head. The blade slowly pushed through his hair until the sharp, pointed tip came to rest on the bump as he saw the scene in his minds’ eye. Sliding his left finger out of the way, he firmly pressed the blade into his skin just below the knot. He slid it slightly so the blade sliced through the taut flesh, which split open under the sharp edge and parted cleanly. Blood instantly welled up in the crude incision and began to flow freely and in great abundance. With the sharp tip of the blade he probed the bloody opening, scraping through the tissue and bone until it found the edge of the small metallic tracking implant. Sliding his left hand around to brace his forehead, he forced the tip of the knife between the small, tubular implant and the bone of his skull and began carefully prying it out with short jerks of the blade. His hand glistened with blood now as he worked, dripping from it down his back in a steady, near-constant flow. Finally he felt the tiny cylinder dislodge from the bone. Carefully, he pulled the knife away, bringing it around under the lamp for a look. On the bloody blade sat a narrow cylinder about two centimeters long. He rolled it slowly with a bloody fingertip. It was still intact and still transmitting. “Perfect.” * * *

Sand was held out by the magnetic shield as the overhead bay doors drew together, sealing out the dark sky and wailing winds. Topolev was waiting for us, and as our speeder settled to its repulsor-field hover cushion, he popped open a small port in the hull, securing the charging cables. Etz cut power and those of us that had been riding in the exposed rear portion of the transport pulled off helmets and shook sand from beneath our armor plates in the still, dank air of the bay. Topolev hollered back to us as he returned to his work in the adjacent cache supply room. “How’s Holder?” Danz pulled off his gloves and hand armor, stuffing them inside his helmet, looking around at the rest of us, “Is it just me, or was that wind actually a little bit cold?” “You turning into an old woman, Danz?” laughed Blade. I laughed a bit too as I pulled off my gloves and watched for a reaction. Felth jumped in before Danz could respond. “No, he’s right. Some of the locals on the street the other day were talking about getting the harvest in before winter hit. It must almost be here.” “What do they grow here anyway, this place is one big sand pit” said Etz, jumping down off the tailboard. Felth began explaining to them about hydroponic crops as I looked across to Danz. “I don’t know about you, but I could stand some cooler weather.” He nodded his silent agreement. In the cache room, Topolev sat down next to 4120 and went back to cataloguing the holo-cards. “I guess nobody heard me.” 4120 stood up as Topolev returned to their desk in the main cache storage room. “I heard you.” He walked past me to Rogue as he re-wrapped the synth-skin at the wrist of his cybernetic hand. He repeated Topolev’s question. “How’s Holder?” Rogue, preoccupied in semi-deep thought replied rather mechanically. “Recovering . . .” He hesitated a second, staring off into space, then turned to 4120. But we have a bigger issue.” He looked up, locking eyes with 4120. “What do you know about the death ritual of the elderly, indigenous Bantha?” 4120 looked a bit puzzled at this random and bizarre question, and was at a loss for a reply. We were all listening now. “Exactly” said Rogue. “Not one of us knows anything about it. So . . . we’re going to need the insight and guidance of a local in addition to the scientific approach of that group of kids on the archaeological team. They’re not from here either. They’re from Balmorra.” “Archaeological team?” asked 4120. “It’s a long story. I’ll explain, but we need all troops recalled from their patrols and duties. Based on the players already looking for this thing, there’s a good reason it was hidden, and probably an even bigger reason to find it, and find it first. We’re going to need everyone’s help. Call them back to base, and get Garindan in here. I need to put our snitch to work.” 4120 nodded. “Right away.” Rogue pulled Blade aside. “You need to have a conversation with your shadow. We don’t need any friendly fire accidents” Blade nodded. Felth watched 4120 as he headed for the upper level comm center. He couldn’t help but wonder who else Garindan might already be helping. * * *

There are no spare parts available yet. Hopefully some with run 2, now in progress. It'll be about a month or so out. If you want to be added to the notification list, drop me an email: tupperwaretk@yahoo.com Thanks!

Zu was the last one of the small archaeological team in, and she closed the door to the small bunk room. The evening winds were kicking up, and a spray of sand had blown in across the floor. She walked past her friends to her trunk, stripping off her jacket and shirt. Ashkii stowed some of the heavier gear away as Daegan paced back and forth, his thoughts churning into words. “What the **** were you thinking, telling Imperial troops we’d help them?” Erek slid the sun visor back off his eyes and chimed in from where he reclined in his bunk, “Yeah, what made you think you could speak for all of us?” Even Miren was frustrated with her team mate “Come on Alina, you need to think, girl. I don’t like the idea of getting involved with them.” ‘Lina looked up from the artifact she was cataloguing, shot a harsh glare at Miren, and addressed the room in general, “You guys, I don’t like it any more than you do, but the one thing that flashed through my head while they were talking was that these troops have resources we would never have access to. Helping them helps us. If we find the graveyard together, it’s a huge coup for our team, and they find whatever it is they’re after.” Ashkii leaned against the wall, “Do you even know what it is they’re after?” ‘Lina rolled her eyes, “Does it really matter, Ash? Zu pulled a shirt on and sat down on her bunk, “Yeah, it could matter a lot. Looking for the graveyard on our own is one thing. Dragging Imperial troops across the sands looking for it is another. Imperial Troops ‘Lina! Are you crazy? Whatever it is they’re searching for could be really dangerous.” Bem, who had been quietly standing in the shadows of the corner listening, interjected. “You know, it’s not what any of us would ideally want, but ‘Lina’s right. This does help us.” A frustrated Daegan threw his goggles across the room to his bunk. “Come on, Bem. You know we don’t need any attention, especially from the local law enforcement.” Bem shifted his stance. “The rest of us aren’t necessarily squeaky clean, I know, but I think what you mean to say is that YOU don’t need the extra attention.” Daegan’s eyes narrowed a bit as he stared across the room at Bem. “That’s no secret. Everyone knows why I wanted this location.” Bem stood a bit taller, slipping his own goggles into a baggy pocket on his thigh. “That may be, but you’re the only one on the team that’s hanging out in the Outer Rim because things got too hot at home.” Daegan’s eyes darted from face to face around the dim room. “You’re hanging out with me. We all agreed this was a great hiding place for me to lay low where we could also get some decent work done. Nobody entertained the idea of partnering with Imperial troops until now!” He turned his head, and directed his glare toward ‘Lina. It was at that moment that the door burst open and Doc Shurte hurried through, sand blowing and wind howling in the darkness behind him. The old man closed the door quickly and turned, glancing around the room at the troubled faces. “Ah, yes. I thought there might be a bit of unrest in here.” He walked toward the center of the room and came to stop between Bem and Daegan, turning to look at the latter. “Son, I wouldn’t let you do this if I thought there was a problem. I promised my sister that you and your friends would be safe here.” Daegan turned away, pointing at ‘Lina. “That’s great, but she’s all but delivered me to the Empire!” Doc looked around the room, over his glasses, as he spoke, “I can tell you something is up. These troops aren’t following a normal Imperial protocol. If they had been, they would’ve never sought my help for their comrade in the bed inside. Under proper protocol, the circumstances under which I came to be needed would have surely meant Holder’s evacuation from this place for de-briefing at the very least.” The doc lifted the glasses from the bridge of his nose as he rubbed the skin where they had been resting. “No, I believe these troops are operating outside the realm of the Empire, and have very little, if any, interest in you. With that said, ‘Lina threw the barn door wide open when she volunteered to help them. They’ll be back in a few days geared up and ready to go.” He replaced his glasses, looking through them at Daegan. “The best thing you can do now, my boy . . . is get some rest . . . and help them.” *

Snow blasted across the nose of the ship as Solo maneuvered his Y-wing through the whiteout conditions of the blizzard assaulting the surface of Hoth. His face, dimly illuminated in the small, dark cockpit by the instruments, revealed his elevated level of concentration. He would rather fly by sight any day, but he found himself needing to dust off his old skills and fly by instruments only, as he made his way toward the encrypted beacon heading and the obscure base the rebels were building. Slowly out of the darkness and speeding fury of the Hoth night came the dim glow of the cavern entrance and open shield doors of the base. He cut his engines and extended the landing gear as he passed through the doors, drifting noiselessly through them on his repulsor field into the slot designated for his ship. Ice that had formed across the Y-wing’s skin cracked and fell away as he pushed open the cockpit of the fighter. Dack slid by, rotated slightly, and set down his X-wing down in the open slot alongside Wedge’s shredded bird. As the two pilots powered down all systems, members of the flight crew that were still on duty moved quickly beneath both ships. They scraped the ice away from the metal skin where it covered power and fuel ports, and connected the necessary feed lines. One of the deckhands moved out from beneath the Y-wing, secured a ladder to the side of the ship just beneath the cockpit, then turned and gave a nod and thumbs up to a tech inside the control room along one side of the hangar. Moments later, as Solo descended the ladder, the massive outer shield doors lurched with the sound of metal scraping on metal as they began to slowly creep closed. He unzipped the front of his orange flight suit as his eyes moved to Dack’s ship where Toryn Farr was waiting for the young pilot to climb down to her. His eyes darted to Wedge’s ship, and then to the empty slot where Luke’s should have been. The Corellian smuggler pulled his arms free of the flight suit, folded it down, and tied the sleeves around his waist half wishing the Princess had been waiting for him. He still wasn’t sure exactly how he had ended up here, but at least no bounty hunters had caught up to him yet. The time would come when he could no longer wait, and would have to settle things with Jabba properly, Princess or not. He shot a sideways glance to the crew member working on his ship. “Where is Lu . . .” he stopped himself. “I mean Commander Skywalker’s fighter?” The tech continued screwing shut a small control panel on the underside of the engine, answering Solo without looking. “The word that trickled down to us from General Rieekan was not to expect him.” “Rieekan huh?” Han sharply turned and caught sight of Dack and Torynn walking away together, talking quietly. He watched the pair as they disappeared into a dark hallway on the far side of the hangar. Pushing thoughts of Leia to the back of his mind, he hastily exited, heading down the narrow winding ice corridor that led to the Command Center. As he disappeared from sight, high up on the opposing cavern wall there was movement in one of the small control rooms. A figure moved out of the shadows and stepped toward the transparisteel. Leia Organa watched Captain Solo through her own reflection. When he could no longer be seen, she dropped her eyes and leaned her head against the pane, rolling uneasy thoughts over in her mind. Abruptly, her eyes flicked up and she stepped back, disappearing once again into the shadows. * * *

A segment I just wrote was just inserted a little more than halfway down on this page IN RED LETTERS, so those reading can pick it out easier.

Luke struggled to lift R2 over a rockslide that blocked the already rough path to Kenobi’s home. The little astromech bleeped his thanks. His lateral hover jets had been removed years earlier by the director of the labor pool onboard the Tantive IV when he had been re-fitted with tool arms for certain mission specific duties. If it was possible for a ‘droid to miss something, he surely missed his jets. He waddled after his new master as he entered the stone dwelling. The twin suns had already set and the sky overhead which had been ablaze with staccato streaks of oranges and purples, set against the dark blue sky was now fading into blackness, pinpricked with starlight. Luke closed and bolted the door behind the little ‘droid and walked into the darkness of the main room. Nothing had been disturbed since his last visit. Slowly he sat down in the spot Ben had occupied on that tumultuous day they met, and rested his head back against the stone wall. A wind gust whistled from around the door, breaking the silence. The stone building felt so empty with Ben gone, so much smaller now, as did most of his old life. His closest childhood friend was gone too. Biggs had always been the big brother figure for him, and he missed that. He was angry at having been robbed of the opportunity to have great adventures with him; all those adventures he had dreamed of while staring off into the countless sunsets over the years. Pushing those thoughts back in his mind, he stood, making his way to the back room, where Kenobi’s modest bed sat neatly made. He sat down on the firm surface, rolled onto it, and stretched his legs. In his hand was the small cube-shaped holocron Ben had left for him. At that moment, the little ‘droid rolled into the room and beside the bed, making a small nervous scraping noise. Luke closed his eyes and allowed his neck muscles to relax as his head sank deeper into the pillow. “We’ll head out there tomorrow R2. Go out into the main room and power down to sentry mode, OK?” R2 bleeped again, whirling in a tight circle and scooting away into the darkness. “That’s right; big day tomorrow.” The rest of the muscles in Luke’s body slowly relaxed, and he drifted into a deep and much needed sleep. * * *

I don't have any spare Cheesegrater type handbacks, but have a set of the original FX style handbacks. Drop me a line if you want them! tupperwaretk@yahoo.com Thanks!

Were you talking about the new Cheesegrater handbacks for the TD?

I'll have to see if I have any spare handbacks. As far as a Sandie conversion kit, I don't have any spare AM Armor pieces yet. Here are a few pictures of a completed kit, courtesy of trooper Brian Capri, TK1565 of the Canadian Garrison. Thanks Brian! Brian ordered the LITE (helmetless) Kit and is wearing his own MRCE helmet in these pictures:

I'm so glad you're pleased. Happy Building! and Happy New Year!

Merry Christmas!!

Here is another response email from a trooper: "Got it today and this thing is AMAZING! It takes every thing good about the F/X and amps it up. I don't think I'll have to shim anything! I did some rough tape fits of a few parts and they are just excellent! The pulls are extra tight, I still can't believe how those TD cheese graters hand plates look! Definitely recommending anyone that's looking for a good TK to check this stuff out. ~ Tom Kness TK/TI-1085 501st Stormtrooper Legion Garrison Carida "First to Advance, Last to Retreat"

The first trooper-to-be has received his kit. His name is Rob Kittel, soon to be a member of the Mountain Garrison, Pikes Peak Squad. With his permission, here is his email message to me after receiving it: "Your AM armor arrived last night. I LOVE IT! I actually took it over to the local 501st squad last night to show them. They were all impressed and they said I made a great choice. Thanks again, and keep in touch when it comes time to start selling your new/improved helmets." ~ Rob Thanks so much Rob!!

Parts are definitely part of the idea, as they were for the FX. Just gotta get through the first run or two, and then spares should be workable.