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Wyvernfall

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About Wyvernfall

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  1. Rruror’rur’rr’s fingers grasped the dash ahead of him. His knuckles were white, not that anyone could tell. Behind his mask, the tusken’s jaw was set as he held his teeth together with grim determination. Truth be told, the near sonic speeds terrified him. That terror was only held in check by a sense of purpose. He was going to find Rose and advance the cause of his people. Perhaps this was why his people had never adopted such machinery, aside from their ability to break down at the most inopportune moments. No. Banthas were definitely a better and more desirable method of travel across the dunes. Rruror’rur’rr pondered silently weighing the case of Banthas as the ideal mode of transport. Anything to keep his mind off the fact that all it would take was a single rock hitting from the ground to turn them into a blazing fireball. Staring straight ahead, Rruror’rur’rr remained silent until they finally arrived at their destination. There, he finally turned to Tu’can’ra and growled in a deep Tusken, “It is any wonder the off worlders don’t kill themselves with such things.” He then quickly dismounted from the craft as he looked around warily, his hand naturally falling to rest atop his slung gaderffi, a visage of desert terror to any who be held him.
  2. The Tusken was a bit concerned when he saw the tear slide down Tu’can’ra’s face, but when she still offered to take him along he was relieved. For a moment he was sure she was going to leave him. Reachcing out, Rruror’rur’rr took the woman’s hand and stood; his free hand ensuring his gaffi stick hung at its appointed position. “Then let us go forth and fight these demons. We will pluck my Rose from their clutches and show these demons the spirit of true Tusken furor.” Following Tu’can’ra outside to where her squad of soldiers stood, Rruror’rur’rr offered each a look from their feet to their heads, shaking his head in disgust at each of them. Even with all she had said, Rruror’rur’rr had a long way to go before he trusted unproven offworlders. Approaching the speeder, the Tusken warrior hesitated before taking a deep breath. If this was the way the spirits were leading him, so be it. He could feel their urging in his head, pressing him onwards even as fear gripped his chest. Seating himself next to Tu’can’ra, Rruror’rur’rr looked around. He had never really taken the time to inspect a speeder short of j owing what good parts to salvage from one for his tribe. “Perhaps, if you teach me the ways of these offworlders you have come to know, I can show you the other ways of our people and together we can advance our people more?”
  3. Rruror’rur’rr found himself carefully nodding as he listened to Tusker’s speech. He might not have agreed with her every sentiment, but he at least felt that he kind of understood where she was coming from. Maybe she was right. Maybe their own past was holding them back. Then again, their past is what made them who they were. It was one thing to seek to expand one’s horizons. It was an entirely different thing to openly reject that which made one him or herself. The fierce suns and sands had taught him that. Even Rose’s people held to their own traditions, didn’t they? Cautiously he responded, “You may be right. Our ways have kept our people alive for generations though. What use have our people had for the sky when we have survived here, where those who make false claims to the land struggle to even walk the dunes.” Running his hand along the wrappings that’s shrouded his face he paused before continuing. “Do you remember when you were but a child, before you undertook the rights of becoming an equal amongst your people? We can not forsake those lessons either. The sands can kill as easily the brothers giving chase across the sky. Our coverings protect us. They offer life. They brand us as to who we are.” Rruror’rur’rr’s memory flashed as he thought about the ancient spirit who had been taken away from his ancestors. He had forsaken all of the trappings of his people and returned a monster. His father had pled with him to return to the fold, but it had been too late. He had forsaken that which he was and into that void had filled the monsters who had destroyed their world. Lowering his hand and looking at the black shrouds that now covered it, he was reminded that some spirit from that encounter had deemed that it was not yet his time to pass into the great beyond. Rruror’rur’rr shook his head dejectedly. “I do not wish to forsake my past, for in doing so, I may lose who I am and become one with the devils who destroyed our world. I simply wish to evolve our people. To learn the ways of the enemy and to smite them before they can take away anything else from us. The spirits of our ancestors saved from from certain death. I can not forsake that. I am sorry.” Slowly he lowered his head, convinced that he had just destroyed any chance he had to find his Rose. The price was simply too high.
  4. Rruror’rur’rr watched curiously as the Tusken woman sent her non-Tusken comrades away. He smiled as she spoke. “I have been to a world of the demons that suppressed our lands. There I killed and I lived.” Rruror’rur’rr’s chest tensed as the woman began to unwrap her head covering. This was something that was forbidden in all but the most intimate of settings amongst their people. Still, they were just discussing heresy and both self-identified as outcasts. Even amongst the clans their were differences. In Rruror’rur’rr’s clan the women and men dressed identically. Their sex unknown to all but their closest kin. The same could be said of their species. For while Tusken appeared uniformly barbaric to any outsiders, inside their own world they took in helpless orphans and adhered to a rich tradition. A tradition Rruror’rur’rr had been discovering was quite similar to that of the Mandalorians. So he sat, still as a stone, every inclination in his body tell him to divert his eyes. Still, he forced himself to watch. The face that he saw was one that differed from his own; but that did not surprise him. “I need an iron demon to whisk me into the skies. To find my Rose.” He spoke matter of factly before pausing, a glint in his eye, unseeable beyond his reflective goggles. “Unless of course, you and your newfound clansmen were looking for another to join you on one last hunt before I take our cause, my crusade, to the stars?” After all he had been through, the idea of raiding with one of his own held a certain familiar appeal. They were both outcasts in some way. He didn’t even need to ask her story. The fact was as delegate as they were, their fates were bound along a similar path. He needed help getting off of his home world and looming for Rose. The desert culture had taught him that such a thing did not come without a price.
  5. ‘Into the skies’ That phrase itself cemented in Rruror’rur’rr’s mind what he already had been coming to accept. Whatever the reason, whatever the cost, he would find his Rose. Even if his ancestors feared what fell from the skies, he would not allow these beliefs to hold him back any more. He had travelled into Hell and returned, fought the demons that sought to subject his world, traversed time in some dark-side warped battle, found love, died. Seeing the accompanying soldiers relax somewhat, Rruror’rur’rr took that as a signal that maybe he was not going to die, yet. “My name is Rruror’rur’rr. I too am the last of my tribe, forsaken by the spirits, ascended into hell, and he who was sacrificed by demons to be reborn anew.” It was a mouthful, but there was no other way Rruror’rur’rr felt he could explain what had happened to him without spending hours regaling the strange Tusken before him. Most assuredly they both had stories to tell. Neither had a story teller or tribe with which to share these tales though. Rruror’rur’rr felt a strange kinship towards the equally strangely garbed Tusken before him. Leaning close, Rruror’rur’rr whispered, knowing that what he was about to ask could get him killed for blasphemy. He hoped that her altered garb and use of offworlder technology spoke true though. “Can you help me find her? Can you help me,” he paused swallowing; his mouth suddenly dry and rough. Unable to finish, he cautiously pointed upwards towards the ceiling. He wanted to leave the planet, willingly. He knew if he was going to die, this might very well be the moment.
  6. What happened next was not what Rruror’rur’rr had expected. His would-be foe had deactivated her weapon and stepped back. That in and of itself was of little reassurance as the accompanying entourage of goons were still present and seemingly ready to riddle him with blaster fire at a moment’s notice. No, it was when he caught a glimpse of Rose on the data pad that Rruror’rur’rr’s heart jumped. ‘The screen must have accessed these so called archives.’ He realized. There was no other conceivable idea his brain could come up with that would have drawn them here with that information. The only question was now; we’re these friends of his Rose, or foes? Eyeballing the gion squad behind the strangely clad Tusken, Rruror’rur’rr decided that discretion was probably a better choice in the moment. “She saved my life,” the Tusken growled in a gravelly basic as waves of images and memories too fresh rushed back through his mind. It was true, in a matter of speaking. Even though he had died; she had given him something to live for. Gaderffi still held defensively, the darkly clad Tusken refused the offer of the pad. It was enough that he could see the image displayed in it. He did not need anything occupying his hand should this be a sort of ruse. “Where is she?” He asked, each word carefully rolled over his tongue as he checked each for accuracy. Maybe they had her. Maybe they knew where she was. Maybe they had killed her. “You can, take me to her,” his words were more a statement than question, even as he tore his eyes from the screen to look back at his fellow Tusken. It was only then that it occurred to him to even ask, his voice a low grumble as he returned to his native tongue. “Who are you?”
  7. Rruror’rur’rr gasped as his back arched away from the charged blow across his shoulders. The electricity arced through the thick cloth to prickle his skin as he growled angrily, hefting his weapon for another blow. The only thing that gave the warrior pause was the sight of this person’s decidedly non-Tusken, techno-wielding goons leveling their weapons at him. Even as the would-be Tusken stepped back, speaking in a stunted Tusken dialect, Rruror’rur’rr knew he had little hope of coming out the victor in an all out confrontation. So menacingly staring at the group, he held his position, righting himself. He showed he was prepared to defend himself, even as he made no move to advance again. At least for the moment. Growling a wordless Tusken battle cry, Rruror’rur’rr followed it with, “You came for me,” in his native tongue. He hoped it’s as simple enough in his meaning the words carrying an entirety of accusations and suggestions in their gravelly undertones.
  8. Standing there in silence for several minutes, Rruror’rur’rr watched the blank screen. He was not sure what he was expecting. Truthfully he did not even understand what had happened in its entirety. ‘Filthy technology!’ Tapping a gloved hand on the screen seemed to result in nothing. What had he expected, Rose to just materialize in the room? Technology did seem capable of magical things. Blaspheming as he was already, Rruror’rur’rr wondered what the point was anymore. After several minutes of no response, the Tusken set his eyes on the rest of the room. It was filthy, something that would, and probably did, end up getting one killed in the harsh deserts of Tatooine. Shaking his head, Rruror’rur’rr made his way to what he could only assume was the kitchen; judging by the fly infested dishes in the sink. Opening cupboards he began to look for something to eat. Up until this point, he had not realized just how hungry he was. Coming back to life reanimated by a mysterious dark being really took it out of you. Finding several seemingly edible cakes of unknown origin, one appeared to be some sort of meat, and a unopened container of Jawa Juice in the cooler, Rruror’rur’rr made his way back to the large screen. Shoving aside a stack of documents and data pads with a flatter, the Tusken cleared a spot to sit. Not sure what else to do, he contended himself to sit and eat and wait. He wouldn’t want to miss Rose when she called back. Finishing his meal, Rruror’rur’rr contended himself with the remoteness of his location and the fact that no one had yet come to check on the porcine offworlder. Soon enough he found himself fidgeting with whatever doodads and gizmos were within reach. He really had not ever bothered with the enemy’s trinkets; but if they could allow him to find Rose, maybe he could find a use for other bits and baubles in the house. One thing led to another and Rruror’rur’rr lost track of time as the suns outside raced higher and higher in the sky. He was content to dig through the deceased’s belongings with impunity. That was until a sound outside caught his attention. Jerking his head up with a growl of concern, he grabbed for the smooth black gaderrfi at his side. He knew that sound: electricity. It was the sound of an offworlder preparing to attack. He knew that from past experiences. What he saw; however, gave the Tusken pause. There, a shadowy figure envelopes by the bright sunlight outside, stood another Tusken, with an . . . offworld weapon? What was this trickery? This was not what he expected. It was probably the furthest thing from. Even as he was shrouded in blackened robes of his people, this being was enveloped in fear of white and black; yet clothed as one of his own kind. Still, whoever this was, was not one of his tribe. They were dead. His heart pained at the thought and the dark voices in his head whispered wordless feelings of anger and revenge, urging Rruror’rur’rr to take it out on this trespasser. Gripping his gaderrfi tightly, Rruror’rur’rr raised it defensively, ready to strike. ‘What if this is Rose? Has she come for me?’ Tensing his body Rruror’rur’rr growled in his native Tusken, “Are you too a demon come to haunt my cursed steps? A wraith of the sands conjured to guide me? My Rose returned from beyond? Or have you come to claim my conquest as your own?” With that, he jabbed the sharp spear line end of his mysterious gaderffi towards the newcomer, tense and prepared to fight even as his mind pondered what could be happening. He did not know and that scared him.
  9. **a barely encrypted broadband communication arrived for Rose, having been bounced over any public channel it could bounce on seeking out Rose’s assigned Black Sun comm code. “Greeting Madam Cariadus. My benefactor requested that I reach out to you to request a private showcase of your talents the next time you visit the Outer Rim. He would be willing to pay handsomely. As he says, my benefactor is quite handsome to gaze upon and his wealth knows no limits. He would be willing to pay you handsomely for the pleasures that you could transmit to him. If you are unable to come to the Rim, his excellency humbly requests a private holoviewing of you sent to this comm address. He will pay handsomely. I have enclosed a snapshot of my benefactor as he awaits your response.” At that moment, a still photograph of the inside of a rather cluttered and filthy moisture farmer’s hit played into view centered upon a rather confused looking Tusken Raider canting his head as he stared at the camera. ”We look forward to your response. *This message was composed and sent by the Internal Secretarial System 3000, Version 11.5. Imperial Copyright # 1hskA4gFfDs51230k At the bottom of the message flashed the comm code for the moisture farm on Tatooine and then the message ended.
  10. The cool desert night winds howled across the barren wastes of the Dune Sea. Little moved at night on Tatooine and nothing was moving here, on this cloudless night. Nothing out of the ordinary; at least for now. A shimmer of light flickered in the air, a wisp bouncing along invisible streams of air. It finally alighted atop the tallest dune in the area; flecks of sand slowly building it higher and higher. In an instant, where once was nothingness, a hissing sound erupted and as painted stroke by stroke a black clad figure formed out of the air. The wisp vanishing as the finishing touches of the being’s body formalized into physicality. Standing there in robes, black as the heart of The Maw itself, stood a man. His garb was Tusken in design. Hanging at his side, a shimmering blackened gaderffi. This weapon was not a rough hewn weapon made of scavenged bits of crashed starship. It was a weapon expertly forged of mysterious metal; a weapon made for a crusader. Through the shimmering blackened goggles, Rruror’rur’rr stared out at the cloudless starry sky. He did not know how long it had been or even what had transpired in the moments since his death. The voices of his ancestors, ever present comrades, were silent. Inhaling deeply, Rruror’rur’rr took in a breath of refreshing air; air that was his. Mingling with his confusion, love, and loss, the solitary Tusken felt a strange set of peace. ’You are mine. Your body belongs to me. Until your death, again.’ Rruror’rur’rr’s body tensed. The voice from his death. It was back. As much as he wanted to die; it seemed as though all of the fates had conspired against him. He had walked through hell, defied his customs, dishonored his traditions, and defiled his people. Still, he was cursed to not die, but to live. ’Your ancestors led you to me. Your life was a smattering of eking by, desiring but never grasping. Together, we will go into the stars. We will go further than any of our kind have. Together we will bring revenge on they that subjugated our peoples and destroy our world.I shall give to you all that you desire and more; all you must do is my bidding.’ the voice pounded in the Tusken’s head. Each word a drumbeat against his temples. Reaching up with his black cloth wrapped hands, Rruror’rur’rr grasped his head and fell to his knees, crumpling in pain. ’Good,’ the voice reverberated. ’Kneel in submission. I will guide you.’ Then, as suddenly as the painful voice was there, it was gone. The silence flooded Rruror’rur’rr’s mind as he slumped face first into the sand, his body drifting down the dune. The winds gently fluttering the loose edges of his blackened Tusken robes, slowly depositing sand against his body. Alive. Alive, but not free. The remainder of the night passed without incident. The following morning Rruror’rur’rr awoke as the twin suns cast their warm gaze upon him. Blackened robes were of little use in casting off the heat. Yet, this was the first that the Tusken warrior noticed them; as the suns beat down and warmed his back. Pushing himself up, the night’s accumulation of sand running down his back, Rruror’rur’rr stared down at his outstretched hands in disbelief. ’Had it all been a dream?’ Flexing his hands, Rruror’rur’rr already knew the answer to that. It could not have been. How else had he come to this place, clad as such? The only question was *what next?’ Sitting in the sands, the Tusken pondered that thought as he played the events leading up to his death and his rebirth over in his head. Images of his demonic mount, the Mandalorians, his ancestors, his decent into hell, and the otherworldly voices played through his mind. Two things stuck out to him. The first was Rose, the blue haired warrior was he had become enamored with shortly before his death. What had become of her? She had died; hadn’t she? If he asked himself, Rruror’rur’rr was not entirely sure of that. He had died too had he not? Yet here he was. Perhaps whatever desert spirit that has seen for to curse him back to this life had done the same for her… Secondly, the voice. It had spoken of revenge, of attaining the unattainable, of teaching out to the stars. Normally, Rruror’rur’rr would have discounted such notions as blasphemous adulterations of age of traditions; but given all that had happened, he couldn’t. Looking down again at his black garbed hands and arms he knew something had changed. Not knowing what else to do, and with the suns beating down on him in an ever growing onslaught of heat, the Tusken picked himself up and began to walk. The first thing to do was to figure out where he even was. The deserts of Tatooine were unforgiving at best. ————————————- Forwards. Onwards and upwards. They were the only directions the desert warrior could go. As he created his fourth dune something stood out from the endless waves of shifting sand: moisture vaporators; rows upon rows of them. Spattered amongst them a crew of six maybe seven hodge-podged metallic droids clinked and clanked as they tended to the accursed machines. Dropping into a crouch, Rruror’rur’rr after on instinct. Even if he could not hear the voices of his ancestors, he still felt their guiding hands ((the force)). Slinging forward, like a sand panther on the prowl, the Tusken made it to the first towering vaporator with ease. From there it was easy enough to bash in the hands of the first two droids with ease. A third noticed the decimation and quickly sounded the alarm, sending the remaining droids scurrying back towards the farm in the distance. Meeting little resistance, with gaderffi in hand, Rruror’rur’rr set off at a loping gait after the droids. Cutting down the slowest as he gained on them before a blaster shot rang out and the Tusken dove for cover behind another vaporator. The farmer apparently took offense to the black clad raider. Clutching his gaderffi, Rruror’rur’rr careful righted himself. Within minutes, he could hear the grumbling of the portly farmer as he strode forward, having contented himself on clearly scaring the Tusken away. *”…better not have broken my newly installed Turbo 3000 or else I’m gonna…”* That was all that Rruror’rur’rr heard before he brought the clubbed end of his shimmering black signature weapon down on the man’s head just as he came into sight. A sickly splatter sent bits of blood and brain into the air as the man’s body fell limp and porcine in the sand. Lowering his club, Rruror’rur’rr pondered. The voice had spoken of more; but what? Setting off towards the house, the warrior wondered what might await him inside. Answers, he hoped. Inside, Rruror’rur’rr found relatively simple living. Aside from the fact that the man clearly was a slob and lived alone, the thing that caught his attention the most was the nearly full wall sized display broadcasting one of the most loathsome, albeit intriguing, displays he had ever seen; two completely unclothed tendril headed aliens partaking in what he could only classify as blasphemous bodily acts with one another. A lesser Tusken would have immediately bashed the offending display to pieces. Rruror’rur’rr however hesitated. He had discovered that, while seemingly an abomination, even the darkly clad ancestor in his death has wielded some matter of technology to his benefit and still been welcomed home. Jabbing his fingers at the buttons whilst trying, and failing to not watch the vile display splayed across the wall, Rruror’rur’rr somehow managed, through force or luck, to activate some matter of menu. As the screen turned black a voice echoed from around the room: “Greetings. How may I assist you today?” ’it spoke?’ Rruror’rur’rr took a step back in surprise. It was like he was in the belly one of those fo droids. Pondering for a moment, the Tusken finally spoke, his voice a low mumbling growl. ”Where is Rose?” “Pardon me my liege, but there is no one by that name in the directory. Perhaps if you could provide me with some details I can scan publicly available census data and locate who it is you are looking for.” Rruror’rur’rr stared dumbly at the blank screen. “Rose is . . . ahhhh . . . A warrior. She . . . Blue hair. Offworlder. She died.” “That information is decidedly unhelpful.” the smooth metallic voice retorted. “Do you know how many warrior switch blue hair exist on Tatooine alone?” for a moment the computer whirred quietly with the Tusken staring stupidly at it pondering what to do next. A few minutes of silent whirring later the computer spoke again, ”This warrior woman you refer to, she would not be an affiliate of the Black Sun crime syndicate that settled planetside some time ago would she?” Without pausing to await a response, an image of Rose Cariadus flashed up in the wall sized screen surrounded by flashing symbols of encryption that obscured most of the information associated with the file. ”Because if so I believe this might be who you are looking for. Not much besides a name and a comm code though, I regret to say. I cannot even tell you if the code is still good. The files on Tatooine have not been kept up to date for quite a while.” Rruror’rur’rr grunted excitedly as a familiar image flashed on the screen. It was her! ”Is she, alive?” he asked hesitantly, not entirely sure he wanted the answer. What if it was no? What is she was gone, as well, forever? Before he could retract his question the computer responded. ”It appears she was reanimated and left the planet. Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine. If you want, I could try the transmission code; although I assume it will only result in another Imperial cease and desist order. She does seem your type though.” ”Do it!” the Tusken snarled excitedly as he threw his hands up in the air. Quickly and quietly a transmission was sent out into the cosmos. The encryption on it was more than simple; but it kept honest broadcasters honest and without having any idea where to start, the broadcast across all usual channels was a long shot at best. Still, it had worked in the past judging by the stack of no contact orders in the bedroom.
  11. Death. Rruror’rur’rr was condemned to it. His life had been leading to this point ever since his tribe had been killed and he had been captured. He had fought it every step of the way. Still, death was not a being to be outrun or fooled. Death found everyone. The Tusken lay there, his eyes open in slits as the sound of a slugthrower echoed through the enclosed cavern; lacking the power to open them any further or to even blink the blood from his lashes. He was not dead yet and suddenly, there were three bodies on the floor of this long forgotten nexus of dark side energies. As he lay there, each breath more ragged than the last, he saw through the haze of his own blood loss and looming demise a pair of legs step into view as the voice that must belong to the boots echoed on and on, as if through an empty duracrete tunnel, something about his death, …go figure… and then something about his being a traitor. He really did not understand what the voice was going on and on about; but Rruror’rur’rr knew one thing. Even now, at the end, he was not going to be allowed to die with honor. Not that he would not have done the same thing to a fallen foe. slain by an offworlder I cannot even stand and fight Rruror’rur’rr had long ago accepted that he was going to die. ”No,” A voice that was not his own, hissed from his lips. In that moment, Rruror’rur’rr knew, he could die, he would die; but would he die a coward lying in his own blood or would he do what must be done to die with honor? Even as his mind swirled and clouded with the loss of blood mingled with the loss of everything, Rruror’rur’rr knew that he had one opportunity. He was too weak to fight it anyways. So, in those final moments, the Tusken did what he had been resisting; he opened up his heart, soul, and mind fully allowing the spirit that already fought for control of his body to flow freely, unhindered and unresisted through him. The dark energies electrified him, giving his weak form power. ”Take me….my brother.” He hissed with his last owned breath, ”You are mine Rruror’rur’rr. Together we shall prevail,” The dark, otherworldly voice hissed from the Tusken’s lips as he pushed himself up, blood and entrails dripping from the man’s nearly naked form. In that moment, Rruror’rur’rr felt an unnatural twinge, like that of the ancestral spirits warning him of an incoming blow in years past. Still, he was no longer in control, the beastly spirit within had full control and in resistance, he found himself activating the blood-slickened black hilt in his hand, both the orchid purple and arctic blue blades erupting from the same end. He could feel the energy flowing through the duel crystals as they each fought the other for power and control, sparkling and sizzling as they spit stray bolts of electricity and fire from where the blades bound together as one. With an ancient ancestral cry of rage that fuelled his broken body with a surge of dark side energies, the spirit-controlled Tusken swung the arcing and crackling blade of dueling energies at the armored legs before him, upward towards where he knew the body that belonged to them would be; his body collapsing back into the blood as his supporting arm holding the saber left the ground, the saber swinging with lethal explosive intent. KILLSHOT DEFENSE & REVERSE KILL.INCPACITATING SHOT ON CRIXUS
  12. The nearly naked, gutted Tusken Raider looked up at the approaching shambling form of Rose. She was alive; if barely. Something was not right. Aside from having seen her die and her life-ending wounds, and inhuman rambling, Rruror’rur’rr felt something. Something was not right. Rose’ presence, if that is what he could call it, was wrong. As she shambled towards him, Rruror’rur’rr knew, without a shred of doubt, that the outstretched arms twisted in pain and rage intended only one thing. She was going to try and kill him. Had he not already tried that himself? Let her kill him. They’d be together again in death. Still, that voice. The voice was Rose’ and he knew it, even in the short time since he had met her and become infatuated with her warrioress spirit. The voice begged him to lash out and kill her. ”I cannot.” He wheezed in his native tongue, a singular multi-syllabic growl. Rruror’rur’rr knew it in his heart. He was a Tusken, dishonored as he may be and he would die a Tusken. He hadn’t the strength to stand and face Rose as a warrior ought. Even as the rage and turmoil echoed in his chest, pumping his blood out faster and faster, his strength would not allow him to stand. ”DO IT!” A voice snarled from his own blood covered teeth. A voice that was not his own, but that of the ancient spirit of Orenth. ”Your time has not yet come. Your services are still required.” The disembodied voice of pure darkness echoed audibly through the cave. ”I cannot. I lack the strength. Let me die.” ”You cowardly fool! Let me! And then, in that instant, with the strength to barely maintain his own awareness, Rruror’rur’rr lacked the ability to resist any further and he collapsed with a splatter back into his own blood as his breath was drawn from his lips in what should have been a final pass. As Rose’ shambled towards him, however, suddenly, the body of Rruror’rur’rr began to rise, each muscle being forced against its natural will. First one arm and then the other, his left leg and then his right, until he was on all fours, like a cornered beast. Lifting up his head, he saw Rose’ approaching and a sickening flash of gold crossed his blue eyes. With an otherworldly snarl, Rruror’rur’rr felt himself rise up to a standing position. Blood ran down his bare chest and soaked loincloth and down his legs. He did not appear to be a Tusken anymore. Instead, he was a beast, a monster summoned forth from the bowels of time and space, a dark compact of the force and ancient prophecies. Still, Rruror’rur’rr could see and feel and think. He felt his every muscle protesting in pain as his body sought to die and be at peace with the natural order of things. He felt his desire for Rose. He felt fear real fear. He did not know what was happening and he was not in control. He also felt a rage and hatred; a rage contained for countless generations seeking to escape mingled with hatred for the very lands of Tatooine, the people that would dare to resist his awesome presence and the will of his masters. In truth, a rage and hatred that was not his own; but rage and hatred that made him powerful. Even in his mind, there was another presence. Yes little brother, I am Orenth. You are now Orenth. Together we shall continue on. Such is your purpose. I shall guide you and you shall be my slave. In that instant, the orchid hued blade in his hand erupted bathing the entire cavern in an alien glow. Rruror’rur’rr could feel his fingers pressing the activator switch of the blackened hilt. He saw his arm, through blood soaked lashes, raise the blade up expertly, as smooth as a Tusken with his gaderffi, and face the shambling form of Rose who was still pleading with him to kill her. KILL HER! ”I cannot.” He snarled fighting with his every ounce of will to resist the spirit that had consumed his body. ”I will not.” You can. You will. And with that, Rruror’rur’rr watched with shock and horror as he lunged forward with a step in his own blood and by his own hand drove the purple pulsating blade upwards into the gaping hole of Rose’ armor where the Krayt had dealt his own killing blow. Stabbing inwards and upwards in an effort to sear and severe organs, arteries, and bones and then in the same fluid motion withdrawing the blade and swinging it towards the blue haired temptress’s exposed neck in an effort to separate her head from her body. All Rruror’rur’rr could do was silently cry out inwardly in horror and rage as he struggled in vain to fight the spirit that had overcome him until they both collapsed with a sickening splat in the blood covered floor below a mass of blood covered flesh and wounds. The only sound: his ragged breathing.
  13. Orenth gasped as he rolled backwards in a smooth combat-based shoulder roll clearly honed form countless hours of training in both physical pursuits and force training. Springing back to his feet, his face twisted into an eerie smile devoid of any warmth, he looked up at the circling spirit of Rruror’rur’rr, and chuckled coldly, ”It is not yet my time brother. When it is, your hand shall deal the final blow! Running a gloved hand over his face in an vain effort to remove some of the remnants of sticky green liquid that coated his fur, the Force Hound deactivated his orchid purple saber and sent the blackened hilt hurling through the air end over end towards the spirit of Rruror’rur’rr, who was still reaching for his gaderffi, unaware, that even in his naked spiritual state the weapon of his people lay somewhere lost in the darkened swirls of time and eternity on the sands of Tatooine outside. ________ Outside, the horde of dark side empowered amphibious soldiers pressed forward unaware and uncaring that the duo that they now engaged were as lost to the progression of natural time as they were, looped together and bound in a single moment by the force that swirled invisibly around the scene like a thick pressing humidity as unnatural as its natural counterpart would be on the dry desert world. Each time a soldier met the blade of the two advancing warriors it simply melted away into nothingness, the long dead warrior fading back into the swirling eternity that was the dark side. Even as explosions, noxious fumes, and blaster bolts filled the air, the horde pressed onwards, each fallen soldier vanishing into the swirling mists only to be replaced by two more from the ranks. They pushed onward, an unending press of darkness and death. ______ Feeling for his gaderffi, Rruror’rur’rr’s hand swiped back and forth several times, unable to comprehend that his ever-present weapon and companion was gone. Even as he prepared to charge the being who was seeking to kill Rose. He had thought her dead. The sight of her sitting up had opened up an even more gaping wound in his soul. The thought that she might die yet again consumed the life force that was still flowing from him. He would not let this Orenth, this monster, take her. He would die yet; but his death would bring purpose! At that moment, the sable-hued hilt arced through the air and, even in his spiritual phase, the Tusken instinctively caught the deactivated weapon in his hand. The moment the unnaturally cold ancient durasteel weapon touched his hand Rruror’rur’rr’s vision went dark as the sight before him exploded in an inky blackness, pure dark side energy radiating out from the connection its inky tendrils snaking out in every direction. As the blackness overcame him, the last thing that Rruror’rur’rr saw was Rose’ body, twisted and broken; yet somehow, alive. Then everything was black and silent. _______ From the cave exploded an ebony void that engulfed everything in its path, sunlight, moonlight, sand and glass, nothing stood before it. Still the advancing hordes gave it little heed as they pressed in, surrounding the two warriors that fought back. Their mission was clear: No Survivors. Dark side energy crackled between and about them as their exotic weapons poured forth blaster bolts as they fired and sought to impale Crixus and Atlas. With each stab, red dark side lightning jumped from their bladed poles towards their targets. Then, when it appeared all hope would be lost, the black enveloped them as well. In an instant, the ships, the legions, the very world was gone swallowed up by a void that was nothing but the dark side. The very next instant the legions were gone as was the glassy surface and carnage. In fact, aside from some very real wounds and memories; it appeared that nothing had even occurred on the sands of Tatooine, as the warm night wind blew bits of sand through the crystal clear night air. The duo of warriors was alone against the backdrop of Tatooine’s vast expanse. Two hulking corpses of predatory beasts fallen nearby. _______ Inside the cave, Rruror’rur’rr slowly opened his eyes, his own blood slick against the smooth stone floor and his bare flesh. The Tusken’s vision was blackened about the edges and he could barely lift his head as his life force ebbed its final journey from his body. Something was not right. He could feel it within, a growing presence, like a plague eating away at his very core. The pain he felt from his eviscerated gut mingled with the icy grasp of death on his fingertips; his only fuel his own anger, hatred, and fear forcing him to stay in this world. With that, he slowly raised his head to look at Rose. ”We have not yet finished with you.” The disembodied voice echoed menacingly through the empty cavern, save for Rose and Rruror’rur’rr. Shakingly pushing himself to his hands and knees, his own, still warm, blood dripping from his body, the Tusken looked down at the clank of metal on stone. There in his hand, clean amongst the blood, a sable hilt. This is your weapon now, not that
  14. ”I know my son. I do not know what they did to you; but you can always turn back. Come back to your people.” “Let me help you.” As he spoke, the venerated Kumumgah leader stepped forward, carefully running his open palm alongside Roo / Orenth’s helmeted head. Finding a notch in the helmet, the carefully moving elder acted with Force-fueled haste, pushing the button to sweep back the visor of the blackened armor to reveal the bleached face of a Kumumgah that had gone years without being exposed to the natural life-giving and taking energies of sunlight, splotchy and barren in spots, with the split square symbol of the aurubesh, orenth, emblazoned in a blackened deathly colored tissued scar across his forehead; his new name, the symbol of his oppression, his servitude, and his power. As the suddenly softened face of Roo / Orenth twisted into rage as his biological father exposed him to the harsh desecrated air of Tatooine’s cavern, he activated his ancient lightsaber, its orchid purple blade humming to life as he swung it upwards. In that moment, as Orenth’s blade began to bisect Krinlo from hip to shoulder, the Kumumgah’s leader completed his last plan; his death would hopefully save countless others. As his body fell to the blade, he swung about with his other hand, opening it and smashing the glass vial into his own son’s face, the green liquid splattering across the exposed fur and flesh, into Orenth’s eyes drawing a cry of fury as it steamed and burned. Krinlo fell, his body in two, to the smooth stone floor of the cavern, his eyes glazing over as he turned to look into Rruror’rur’rr’s eyes one last time, ”You are my son now….. As he fell back screaming, Orenth clawed at his face with his free hand, his saber thrashing wildly as he blindly swung it to force back the staff wielding servants of the fallen Chieftain until he could clear the burning vile liquid from his eyes. With his teeth bared in a snarl, his face soaked in the liquid as fresh burn marks and smells of acidicly burning flesh and singed hair rose from his open helmet. Breathing heavily he brought his orchid colored blade to center in front of him with one hand. ”You. Will. All. Pay.” And with that the cries of fear and pain echoed down into the darkened abyss of the cavern and out the entrance across the glassy plains outside. Orenth snapped his helmet shut and with the unpredictable and unprecedented moves of a whirling dervish, he lunged forward flipping and spinning as his blade cut down refugee after refugee. Even as the guardians of the people attempted to stand against him they were only able to block a single blow or two before they two were struck down in a hate fueled massacre until all that was left standing was the robotically panting night black armored servant of The Infinite Empire. Nothing moved, not a being stirred, death was the master here as it was across the lands devastated by the Rakatan hordes. Outside, the legions of black-clad Rakata turned their focus to the two figment fighting warriors, Dark and Crix, turning their force-powered exotic weapons on the two, opening fire with barrages of red laser fire as they advanced with a sickeningly coordinated order even as they gave into the darkness that swirled bout them; soldiers to the core and servants of the darkness to their soul, intent on one thing: carrying out the will of the darkness and purging this planet of those who would stand against them, an example to all other worlds across their kingdom of what would happen to they that stood and did not kneel. No quarter would be given. Any on this world would be destroyed. Back in the cave, the Kumumgah Force Hound turned his attention to Rose, as if seeing her for the first time, his saber raised ready to strike as he stepped towards her. In that instant, Rruror’rur’rr, who in the swirling mists of blood loss and the acceptance of his fate, knew that he was not yet done. It was not yet his time to die. Fueled by his own internal grief at all that he had lost and his rage at the site he had just witnessed, the birth of his people, the times legends spoke of, he forced his incorporeal being forward with a Tusken cry of rage that echoed across the land, even giving the advancing Rakata outside pause as the cry shook them to their core. Charging from his perch, unaffected by anything but the raging of the most primitive aspects of the force, he dove and drove his form straight towards the Force Hound, As Rruror’rur’rr slammed into Orenth’s body, the being waivered before falling backwards with a clatter atop the dead body of his own father. Shock covered Orenth’s masked face beneath his armor, at being struck by a wraith that had seemingly materialized out of the swirling glassy heat of the planet. ”You will not touch her.” The Tusken snarled as he passed through the Kumumgah’s body and circled upwards for another pass, instinctively reaching for the gaderffi that had always hung at his side.
  15. The disembodied voice seemed to echo through Rruror’rur’rr’s very soul, a dark sickened joy crept from the inky blackness of the depths of the cavern to fill the whole of The Tusken’s mind, fueled by the screams of those unfortunate enough to not be within the protective bubble of force power held unshakingly by the few Kumumgah below as they pushed all the power they could muster through the golden wisps of light and darkness to Krinlo as he quaked in his shoes, the very power threatening to consume him. In that soul-blackening moment, as time was twisted and morphed, the future, the past, and the present bound together in a constant twisting and knotting of power, Rruror’rur’rr’s vision began to haze once again. In that moment of haze as the vision before him faded he caught the glimpse of something that made his heart leap, a glimmer in the darkness. ”Rose?” The name formed on his dried cracked lips, a mingling of shock, surprise, and fear. Was this part of death? To see that which was closest to your heart in the moments of your passing, those who had gone on ahead? The ancestors and now Rose? What was that behind her? Following behind the familiar spirit of Rose, as she raced back towards her broken body was a dark and shadowy form; indiscernible in make, shape, or form but reeking of pure unadulterated darkness. Then he heard it, her voice, a voice he had never thought to have heard again. You?? She is talking to me! No! I cannot die! I mustn’t! I need to get back to her! NOOOO!!!! ROOOOOOOSE!! He wanted to scream, but his lifeless body lay there on the ground, the ever growing pool of blood slickening the darkened floor. Gone were the crowds, the flames, the protective barriers. No longer was Rruror'rur'rr's meager rage and grief needed to sustain the growing blister of infernal darkness; it was strong enough, even now, to no longer need the service of such a primitive mortal. He had brought it to its nest and given it voice and life; but to the darkness, his use was complete. Now he would die. In that instant, next to Rruror'rur'rr and Rose lay the lifeless charred bodies of countless more being embalmed in strips of cloth reminiscent of the wrappings of the Sand People known far and wide. Kneeling with the few refugees still living were all but two of the staff wielding guardians that had seemingly only moments before been channeling their power into Krinlo as they protected their small patch of Tatooine. Outside, after the fires had ravaged the surface of the world, burning everything they touched to ash and then to nothingness carried away by the raging winds within the miles wide circle that extended outward from the cave, leaving nothing but a molten glassy landscape in its wake. Beyond that, Tatooine seemed to exist out of sight and without concern for the dark machinations of the unbridled dark side fueled by the gathering of ancient artifacts, ancient bloodshed, fresh death, and the arrival of the Tusken’s chosen son as had been foretold in prophecies long forgotten by all but the eldest storytellers of the deepest wilds of Tatooine. Days, maybe even weeks, passed like moments, the twisting of the force’s unbridled power warping reality to its very whim before it slowed to a breathing being’s pace again, just as a dup of three pronged Rakatan ships settled with a crunching sound across the landscape of wind swept glass. Overhead the suns beat down mercilessly, turning the cool crystalline features nearly white hot; the guardian brothers doing their last effort to protect the world they oversaw. In unison, two reinforced unidentified metal doors crashed to the slick surface of the once lush planet sending bits of broken glass spurting into the air and the sounds of countless boots marching in unison echoed across the empty landscape; save for a lone Gank and a blackened cybernetic Mandalorian and their personal force-based demonic hells a short distance away. From the maws of the massive ships marched rows upon rows of black clad amphibian-esque beings with skin tones spanning the rainbow, each with eye stalks jutting from their elongated craniums. Each one carried a polearm type weapon with a fixed blade at the end and a blaster barrel less-than-concealed at the base of it, and an array of other weapons at their sides. From the marching columns emanated a filthy raging inky darkness, unchecked by the self-control exhibited by the marching soldiers, waiting only for the sign to turn it loose and unleash their unholy fury upon any that stood in their way. The legions of darkness had come to finish what they had started. Back inside the cavern, bits of dust and debris rained down upon the wounded and tending alike, signaling the arrival of the Rakatan horde above. The two staff-wielding guardians at the door rushed out into the blinding landscape at a nod from Krinlo, hoping against hope that their saviors had come; but sensing through their connection to the great ancestral spirits that whatever had come was just as dangerous. Shouts of discovery across the glassy landscape echoed off the sun-baked surface and red-hued bolts of energy filled the air. Even with the force, the two staff wilding servants were no match for the hordes of dark side bound foot soldiers. Stalking from the closer of the two ships a being armored in black as dark as the deepest untouched reaches of space strode forth, passion and pain emanating from him; an equally blackened saber hilt in his hand. Sniffing at the air, he snarled a curse to the cloudless sky, ”He is here! Bring me the survivors!!” The darkness that raged from the newly arrived warrior was kindred to the rage that had called Rruror’rur’rr home. They had been brought together by the darkness of the force across time eternal, transcending life and death to bind this duo who had not even laid eyes on one another as one and the same. Brothers if the force was allowed to work its mysterious magics. From every moving joint of the clad warrior crackled red ozone scorching electricity as he bounded forward, each step covering meters as he ran towards the cavern hidden behind a glassified dune. Inside, Krinlo turned to look at the writhing form of Rose with a look of fear in his eyes before turning to look up at the disembodied wraith of Rruror’rur’rr, the urgency apparent in his voice, ”Can you feel it my son? The traitor returns. He was taken from us when they first came. They twisted him. His ancestors watched him and foretold this day would come when he would return, a slave to his masters bidding. No concern for his own kind.” Spitting on the ground, he continued, ”No matter. Blood is only tinged water, nothing more.” And with that, Krinlo slipped his hand up his sleeve and withdrew a stoppered vial of foul looking green liquid with a smile. ”This is my fight son; but I’ll be watching you. It is not your time. Drive the demons away and save your people blood and bond.” Then Krinlo turned, nothing more to say to Rruror’rur’rr as he signaled his other staff wielding comrades who rose in unison to flank him as the blackened being appeared with a gust of cold wind that swept through the cave. To all present it was clear; death had arrived with a crackle of red dark side electricity and an ignited artic blue saber. ”Roo. You have returned as the ancestors foretold. Your mother would be pleased…” Cupping the vial back in his hand out of sight, Krinlo took a step forward, holding out his open hand as if to embrace the black clad warrior. ”MY NAME IS ORENTH!" ((EDIT: Forgot some punctuation))
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