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Tatooine


RaveN

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Crix's reaction turned from satisfaction to dread as the beast's full weight came crashing down on him. He had not prepared himself for this. His instincts were not ready for such a problem. So instead going in such a way that spectators would have he remained still as the beast crashed and began to crush him into the sand. As he layed under the corpse, some guts leftover of the beast's head drenching him, all of his emotions came out in one word:

 

Poodoo

 

What was worse for the bounty hunter is that he felt like he could only barely move. At first he struggled to move the corpse off of him, but with little luck. He could barely move his arms with the weight crushing them, and his legs were pinned as well. Even with all of his enhancements, the body would not be easily moved by one person. He still had the pistol, but to fire such the deadly weapon's last shot at literally touching distance would probably disintagrate him as well as the corpse on him. Was this how he was going to die? Crushed to death by the corpse of his bounty's steed? That would be the ultimate embarrassment for him. With more energy, he continued to push and shove, but the beast only moved inches in a time that Crix couldn't measure. If only Crix could get a bit of leverage or help or...

 

That's when the smell kicked in. Even through his mask, Crix could get certain scents. But this smell wasn't coming from the guts of the monster, nor was it the rotting smell he had smelled earlier before the fight . It was more like something was burning. Then the corpse on him began to become warmer and the smell of burning flesh stronger. Crix's mind panicked. He was not going to die in a pyre. Death by fire was not acceptable.

 

Instincts kicked in again. Crix clenched his hands, activating the vibroblades in his wrists. They stabbed the insides of the beast, and whirred to life. Strength surged in Crix as he moved his arms little by little, carving space inside that corpse. With each inch gained, Crix moved a bit more. With each foot he moved, the more he could carve up and out. He continued to cut and cut, ignorant of time passing. How long he spent carving the innards of the beast was a blur to the Gank. He just needed to get out. Soon he could stand and pushed his way up.

 

Eventually, after what felt like hours, Crix burst out of the corpse like a detonator. Blood flesh scatterred as he stood up, breathing hard. With a triumphant cry, he shouted to the black sky, ignoring the flames that were falling in the night.

 

No beast will best me! For I am Crixus the slaughterer! I am a gladiator! I am...

 

"Nexu!" a deep voice shouted from behind.

 

Crix turned as well as he could, and and gasped before being blasted with something like ash. For a moment he coughed and choked, as his helmet failed to protect him. He eventually caught his breath, but he continued to shake in fear. For he had seen something in that ash. A form...no a ghost. A squat being made of dust and sand, with eyes of fire....but that shape could not be mistaken.

 

Dressak... he breathed the traitor's name. This....something was wrong. Had he been poisoned by the corpse of the beast? He had to be seeing things.

 

A war cry from behind in an unknown language. Crix turned, this time ready to swing his blade at whatever attacked him. A dust cloud flew at him and another form momentarily formed moments before Crix swung. His blade stopped short, fearful at what he saw, and was knocked backwards, rolling down the dune away from the corpse. When he came to a stop he leaped to his feet, ready for another attack. But as he got up, his limbs....he was shaking. What was going on? That cloud held another face, long since dead. What was happening? And why was the sky itself on fire? What had the beast done to him?

 

Then the voices began. The voices.... oh god, the voices! Murmers, whispers, hissings, growls...some of it was in Gank, the rest in other languages, both ancient and new, foreign and familiar. As each second passed, the voices only increased in number, soon becoming deafening for the bounty hunter. Crix searched for a source but found none. The sand began to kick up. Crix spun around rapidly, starting to enter a blind panic. His dead team mates laughed and taunted their frightened comrade. How were they here? Where had these beings made of sand and fire come from?

 

No! he shouted, trying to gain control of himself. I will not die to this....poison! I will not die to you! I am Nexu! And with a war cry he bared his blades and began to strike desperately at the beings. But as soon as his blades touched the bodies, they were gone, only to reappear on the next dune where the beast had originally come from. Crix roared his challenge and gave chase, refusing to let old ghosts haunt him.

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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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There was darkness in the air, and it was a thick mist, covering not only the local area, but the very souls it ensnared. I stood there as the familiar visor hovered above me through the thick mist, as if gazing upon me with every intent of ending what it once began. Dreth was the name it bore, and I had never forgotten it even for a singular moment. And I stood beneath it, as if begging it to reach down and dare an attempt.

 

I remembered the moment I first laid eyes upon those known as Dreth, a fellow Clan whom once served Mandalore along side us in centuries past. That was, until the day that I, the Dar'Manda had been born, a curse upon Clan Bralor, that my father had been Miraluka. Shunned by all but my own clan, I was branded unworthy at birth, and Dreth in their hatred of the Force and its ilk, made sure that I would carry the curse alone.

 

They were the reason I was the last of my clan, wiping all of Clan Bralor from existence while leaving me alive, a reminder of Bralor's curse, all because my mother chose the righteous path of birthing her rapist's seed. And I have walked the path of Dar'Manda since I was but a man of ten years, even leading fellow Dar'Manda like myself as Mandalore the Souless until Dreth once again forced me to walk alone. They were the true curse of Clan Bralor, not his ideology. And now that I have companionship once more, they hover above me, attempting once again to destroy me.

 

"Canderous Bralor...." A voice whispers across the sand, echoing through the mist and traveling upon the swirling of air and moisture. "Call upon my name and forsake the false Manda." It speaks to my heart, I feel its tug at my soul, a fire burning within. "You once knew me as a friend, yet forsook me when you tossed aside the Crown." I felt its warm embrace wrapping around me and comforting my sorrow. "Call upon me and i shall set your soul afire, granting you truth of 'Ani'la Akaan', the Great Last Battle."

 

Once again a voice spoke across the sands and through the mist, this one familiar and loving, its tone known nearly all of my life. "Don't my love. Do not give into the Darkness. I beg this of you. It was Luna's voice, causing me to gaze around, yet I could not see nor find her form among the mist as I tried so desperately. "It will only end in pain and misery for the both of us."

 

"Call upon my name and I will grant you the power to avenge your Clan my child, and the knowledge of Dreth's greatest weakness. Spoke the mysterious voice, the truth of its words so alluring that it nearly caused my gaze to stop my search for Luna, my heart feeling torn in two. "I will show you the power the fear in you, and together we will raise Clan Bralor from the ashes of those whom have feared its name for millennia. All you have to do is call my name."

 

"I beg you Canderous, do not listen to it. I heard her voice, sobbing hidden behind strength, causing my chest to burn with sadness and I tried to reach out toward the direction it came from. "The power it will grant you will be your destruction, just as it did my brother."

 

Despite the mysterious beings words, Luna had my attention the most, as I scanned through every vision i held at my disposal, including the Force, still unaware that i was awake and no longer dreaming, her tug at my heart despite tearing it in two keeping my sanity as i focused to grasp an understanding of what was happening to me. She was my guiding light amidst the lingering darkness, until....

 

"Who do you think took everything away from you my child, including your beloved?" The mysterious voice once again beckoned, a wave of sadness washing over me as I heard Luna cry out hysterically, and in almost unison the truth came to me, echoing in my shattering heart as much as the mysterious voice and Luna's. "Dreth"

 

"Forgive them Canderous." I heard Luna speak, her voice sounding full of tears, aching at the revealing of the truth that nearly broke my soul. First my Clan, then my fellow Dar'Manda, and now my beloved. It was almost too much to take as my blood boiled with the heat of ten thousand suns lighting the sky. "Canderous, my love, do not let hate consume you. I am still here, in your heart. Do not give in." Yet it was too late, my heart and soul burning with desire, fueled by hate and wrath, vengeance my only cause. And as a warrior stepped forward adorning the emblem of Dreth upon its armor: war.

 

"Kad Ha'rangir."

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Formally Known as Hunter Of Shadows/Dark

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Stop! Face me you traitors! Crix cried out as his blades touched nothing but air once more. He roared in frustration and surged forward once again, eager for blood. But repeatedly he was left cutting nothing but air, and the forms of his old team mates reappeared far away, their eyes aglow a deeper shade of red. Again and again he roared, and again and again he was met with hollow victories. But he couldn't stop. He couldn't help but kill them over and over. In his addled mind, he believed with every kill destroyed a piece of them. Soon, there would be nothing left. It was either them or him. Victory, or Death.

 

The forms on the next dune laughed and continued to mock their maddening opponent. However this time when he charged and slashed, they did not reapear right away. The whisperings and mockings still rang in his ears, but he was left looking down at the corpse of a great animal, its bones and burnt sides exposed to the darkened skies. Crix had to stop and stare. Did he not just slay the beast back the other direction? No, this one was different. But its kill was fresh as well. This much was obvious. Why did his team mates run to here?

 

Then the clarity began to return to Crix. His teammates were dead. They were gone. He looked at his own robotic hand and the engravings on the weapons installed into it. Their names were still there. Proof that they had indeed died.

 

This....is....nothing Crix panted. But even this felt false. Something was happening. What...is happening here?

 

"Can't figure it out Nexu?" the voices suddenly unified. Crix nearly surged forward in instinct at the forms of sand and fire before him, but restrained himself. These....falsities would not draw him into another rage. This audience would answer him.

 

You are dead. How are you here?

 

"We were called. By the thrill."

 

What thrill?

 

A moment of snickering. "Revenge"

 

Crix growled and lifted his good arm. With one finger and thumb out, he activated his wrist laser under his arm, a shot going through each image before him. They screamed momentarily before dissipating. He counted, and when they began to form again before him, he shot the forms again. There was no difference in their formation. Crix breathed in annoyance. A fruitless effort.

 

"Do you really think a coward like you will survive this?" The forms mocked as they approached. Crix gritted his teeth and growled.

 

You are the cowards, too afraid to face me in flesh and blood. Now leave me! He fired again, taking no delight as they vanished. During this brief pause, he activated his helmet's scanner, seeing if he could find anything that might help. But before he got a reading, hands gripped his feet. He looked down in surprise to see his comrades emerging from the sand below, snarling and roaring.

 

"Die with us Nexu!" they cried as one pointed upwards. Crix looked up and in horror saw an approaching fireball from the sky. He tried to move and jump out of the way, but the hands held fast. Not thinking, Crix raised his arms and braced for the hit. His body and his teammates screamed in pain as he was flung by the force of the explosion alone. For a moment, he remained still, trying to compose himself. Then he screamed in pain.

 

You are dead! Leave me!

 

There! On his scanner, a life sign, very short distance away. Perhaps it was his prey. The death of his prey's beast was what had started this. Perhaps if he slayed the prey, He growled again as he bared the pain of getting back up and walking towards it. He felt a tug at his feet. Without looking, he swung his blade, the form dissipating and jumped forward. Another fireball, smaller, landed where he was a moment ago. He chuckled and moved forward.

 

You always were repetitive Sallak

 

He could see an outline ahead. A being in armor. Stumbling and slashing at any other forms that formed around him, he moved closer. It wasn't his prey, but perhaps he knew what was happening. He reached out to grab its shoulder, ready to stab it with his other hand.

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Without a word, I charged forth, by blades extended. With every slash of the Ryyk blades, I felt the power of Kad Ha'rangir empowering me, I could feel my strength growing, my speed getting faster. I could taste my list for more, and as I viewed the warrior before me, eternal damnation of House Dreth. They had taken so much from me, caused me so much grief, so much pain, and it was time I returned such hospitality. I reveled in the thought of their destruction, and it fueled my soul with a fire I hadn't felt in such a long time.

 

Dancing a duel of death upon the eternal sands, the dust intertwining amidst our forms, I felt the call of war, of action, and it gripped my soul so tightly. It felt as if I was home, in the warm embrace of my loved ones, as if the entirety of Clan Bralor embraced me once again. I would honor my master with his desires, firstly with this warrior before me and then the whole of Dreth, for I would bury them just as I buried my Clan, only this time in pleasure. Dreth would pay for what they had done. With a simple lift of my foot as I started to run, I nearly cleared five feet of distance in only a blink of an eye, and I felt more alive than I ever had. The power of Kad Ha'rangir was amazing, powerful, and I was loving it, as a mound of dust exploded into the air as my fist drove into the sands when I missed the warrior.

 

"Kad Ha'rangir preserve us" I spoke, quickly twisting upon the sand and bolting toward the warrior once again, this time unleashing a fury of laser bolts as the gatling gauntlet sprung to life and twirled its barrage followed by a massive explosion of fire and fuel as I launched a grenade following the blaster bolts. "For Mandalore!

 

I spoke without thinking, I acted without remorse, I let the warrior within me guide my every decision, and I acted from heart. I intended to destroy this warrior of Dreth before me, and in doing so, start my campaign of terror upon the House he represented. I would avenge my Clan, and nothing would stop me so long as I held the power of Kad Ha'rangir to aid me in battle. And knowing that simply set so graciously upon my blackening heart as I slung myself at the opponent time and time again.

 

And in one single blow,the Ryyk blade ejecting from my forearm and its hilt finding my grasp as I spun my form beautifully, the warrior fell at my hand, my blade finding the gap between visor and shoulder as I spilt its blood upon the darkened sand. I sat there, partially in disbelief that I had felled a member of House Dreth all the way out here, but also that Kad Ha'rangir had aided me so well in this battle. It felt almost too good to be true, as if I was dreaming. I was faster than ever before, stronger, and even deadlier. I hadn't even broken a sweat. But something soon came over me as i stood there, and before i even held a chance to question what it was, I activated my jetpack via my HUD and an explosion of fire and lift erupted behind me, knocking the approaching warrior(Crixus) behind me off guard and blasting me to safety.

 

"Who approaches Canderous of Clan Bralor?" I spoke to the newly arrived warrior, stationary above him with my gatling gaunlet at the ready and my Ryyk Blades resheathed. "Speak now, or forever hold your peace!

 

Silently beneath the glowing red visor, I grinned, my heart racing with excitement, hoping he chose the latter.

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Formally Known as Hunter Of Shadows/Dark

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”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.

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Crix Barely held his ground as the armored warrior took off in moment of fire. He could feel the heat through his armor, and snarled as he felt the singeing and almost blindly fired at the being right there.

 

If another thing sets me on fire today... he growled in annoyance. He glanced up at the flying warrior, now able to get a better view. He recognized the being as described by the owner of the cantina. One of the armored individuals who worked with the traitor. The armor was familiar, like he had seen a similar style somewhere but he couldn't place it. Perhaps he was a fellow gladiator, or simply an honored warrior from some lost culture. Whichever, it didn't matter.

 

I wonder if you are a traitor too... Crix barely said to himself, wondering how much money he could get for bringing this one in alive.

 

However, he did recognise the weapons on the flyer. The Rykk blades he had just put away were deadly enough weapons. A Trandosan gladiator once thought his stolen blades were stronger than Crix's 'claws' but discovered they were not nearly as ferocious. The gauntlet was also familiar to the Gank. Crix felt this challenge could be overcome easily enough, had he still carried his rifle still, but that was back near the corpse of the original beast. And the ghosts here were too much of a risk....

 

Crix began to yell out to the flyer, "I'm Nexu, hunter of a trai.... but he didn't have time to answer. For in that moment, laser fire began. A shot grazed past Crix's helmet, another landing besides his foot. Crix's instincts forced the ex-gladiator close to the ground, but he wouldn't stay for long. He was an easy target out here, for both whoever was firing at him as well as the flyer. Course, the flyer was more open than he; practically bantha fodder as far as Crix considered. But where was the enemy? His helmet should've picked up their life readings. Were these more ghosts?

 

Crix had a moment of clarity. The dead carcass of the beast was still behind him. Those bones and muscle would be excellent for some protection. If he could reach it, that would provide cover from those who fired upon him.

 

Quickly, to the corpse! Crix called out to the flying warrior. He mused to himself as he dashed for cover, lasers flying around him, a shot grazing off his armor. If he and the warrior survived this, a simple sleeping dart at close range from his hand would knock the humanoid out. He didn't want to waste his last shot on his disruptor on small targets. Course, that would only work if they both survived this.

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There was a firefight!

 

Crimson bolts lit up the darkened sky in a volley of fire as shots rang across the sand, rudely interrupting my conversation with the being below and infuriating me beyond doubt. It wasn't so much that they were shooting at me, but rather, that there was little decency left in the galaxy when two warriors could not converse upon the battle field without outsiders sticking their noses in where it didn't belong. And as I went to turn around and speak to them of their rudeness, one managed a lucky blow, sending me into a downward spiral until i crashed hard upon the sand, knocking the wind from my lungs.

 

"Shite" managed to escape my lips as I rolled over from upon my back, where i had landed, onto my hands and feet, scurrying across the sandy landscape toward the carcus that the other warrior now laid behind in almost demonic fashion. Propping up against the decaying form, I looked at Nexu. "Guess this means we're allies, for now at least.

 

Hearing an unknown roar echo across the landscape, I felt its chill, its terror, and somehow I knew that it resonated from Rru, and it left me with a sense of dread. Something had happened, something with dire consequences, and though I could not tell what, it simply did not sit right with me. I could feel his anger, his hatred, and in turn, it began to fuel my own. First Luna, then Dreth and the truth of their trickery. But now, now my comrades felt similarly as to my own, and I didn't not like those I knew to hurt. Only, I had yet discovered that I was partially to blame.

 

"Ready yourself Nexu." I spoke in haste toward the being, something edging me to attack at that singular moment, like a push from the grave its self, aching for war and death in return, as I pulled three cylindrical spheres from my form, thermal detonators to be exact, with my thumbs clasping down upon the first two's activation buttons as the timers sounded their activation. "Now they find out what it means to attack Canderous Bralor of Clan Bralor, former Mandalore and Black Sun Operative..." The rest just trailed off as I chunked the spheres toward the incoming horde who currently stood distracted.

 

Ducking back behind the carcus, Nexu could silently hear me counting to three before an immersive explosion shook loose among the horde as well as the ground between, its rumble felt even under our own forms. It was in that moment I stood up, letting my own barrage of crimson bolts light up those who still remained, my determination hidden behind my blackened visor. Now only these demons stood between me and my friends, and after the night I've had, my levels of stress was deteriorating as I took it out upon these beasts of ages past.

 

I needed to make it to Rru and Rose, to see what and why this dread erupting from Rru was caused by and be of some aid to them. And this horde before me was making it impossible. With my free arm, I threw the third detonator as the gatling gaunlet winded down, ducking back behind the decaying beast once more, and reading my Ryyk blades erupted once more, giving me an almost wyrm like appearance. They would fall before me should they stand against me, for war called my name, and war was within me.

 

For Mandalore

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Formally Known as Hunter Of Shadows/Dark

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Crix nodded to the armored warrior's comment about being allies. It seems to be that way.

 

However, the situation was definitely not something Crix would like to be in. Being attacked by an enemy with unknowable numbers that he couldn't find on his helmet, not having his rifle on hand, being forced to work alongside a warrior who may or may not be his enemy.... There were too many uncertainties in this situation. And there was no crowd to revel in any of Crix's destruction. At least in the gladiatorial pits, his confidence would soar from the cheering of the crowds. Here he had only the warrior and the now surprisingly quiet ghosts.

 

When the armored warrior pulled out the grenades, Crix smiled. At least this guy had the right equipment. Plus, now he wouldn't have to use his own. Crix mentally noted the title Mandalore and how he needed to look that one up later, as well as questioning Black Sun on the status of this Canderous. If he was a traitor, then his paycheck was going to go up after this mission. Fitting, since this job was not what he was being paid for. But the thoughts of extra credits were pushed aside, for the battle was all that mattered.

 

The warrior counted. Crix prepared himself. The explosion rocked the ground. As one the Gank and the warrior stood and fired where the blasts had occurred. Crix could see the forms of the enemy now. Fish-like aliens wielding weapons of polearms and blasters. An army of beings who no doubt had been trained to use such tools with deadly efficiency. He smiled. Another challenge. His wrist blaster lit up over and over and over again. He almost didn't notice the third grenade being thrown.

 

Crix followed in suit with Canderous. He saw no reason to lead the charge himself; Let this one take the more deadly blows should the enemy open fire before they made it. Besides, he seemed to know where he was going. Utilizing a vibroblade on one arm and his wrist blaster on the other, he tried to shoot as many of the enemies as he could while rushing in for the kill. If he could get close, switching to melee would be a glorious bloodbath and would be more favorable then being fired upon.

 

Much to Crix's disappointment, the grenades didn't seem to do as good as a job on the amphibian aliens as well as expected, for they quickly trained their weapons on the two again. Crix felt searing pain as two shots hit his left arm and right side, his armor doing little to protect him at such close range. However, he was close enough now. Memories of slaying similar enemies in the arena flashed before his eyes. Before more shots could get the Gank, Crix used one arm to push a pike up, weaved past another, and slashed with his robotic arm. But even as he began to cut through them, something didn't feel right. It was like the slaying of the ghosts. They weren't all here. True, his blade definitely felt something as it began to cut, but there was no blood on his blade as he broke through the line. Crix felt like he had made a mistake to leave the cover the carcass behind.

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The sensation was akin to releasing a long pent in breath of air but without the release of a new breath to replace it. She could feel her body struggling as it stood, horrid in its appearance, slouched from ripped muscles and sinew, shambling forward with halting step. But it was not her that moved it, she could only stare through death clouded eyes as her once beautiful body began to advance out of its grave. An entity was in the body with her.

 

jūsu vājums ir mans prieks

 

Get out, get out, get out!

 

Only laughter returned her and terror gripped her as whatever this spirit was fully took control of the young mandalorian’s body. She could feel herself being torn out of it, root and stem by whatever force this dark demon possessed and then there was nothing. Death perhaps?

 

_________________________

 

The gurgle of fountains brought Rose of Sharon to her senses, the coolness of the water against her bare shins made her blink and look down. She was barefoot, wearing only the oversized shirt of her fathers that he had left behind that she had slept in since she was a child. It's hem was stretched and hung to her knees, the softness of its well worn nerf cotton embraced her slender body with its comfort and smells that filled her nostrils. Her azure coloured eyes searched around her but only found a deep and impenetrable fog. Her heart rate increased as a distinct shock and claustrophobia took over.

 

Where am I? Where is Roarroar? This sure as hell isn’t Tatooine.

 

“Those questions will be answered in time little warrior.”

 

Rose nearly jumped at the sound of the booming metallic voice that echoed from the fog behind her. She fell back into a fighting stance and nearly lost her balance as the stone patch that she seemed to be on gave way to nothing directly off it. To save herself from the fall, she hurled herself to her knees and scrabbled for purchase on the path. Every inch she went into the water, the harder it was to pull herself out. She retched and forced herself to her feet, the water’s weight bearing down on her like a tonne of bricks.

 

Who are you?

 

There was splash and the metallic voice started again.

 

“Do you not recognize the voice of your God?” And He was there standing over the face of the water, the spikes of his armour encased in a shroud of misty darkness. Beneath the half mask, a smile of a thousand teeth grinned back at her.

 

Rose wanted to move, to bow low, but she did not dare. The horror she felt emanating from Him was enough to bow her head, her eyes wide.

 

“The homeplanet beckons you little warrior. Seize the city world. Bathe our culture in blood. Enough to fill the underworld to its rafters. Unfetter the reign of death and chaos that heralds my return.”

Then there was nothing, and Rose was left utterly alone. Alone in the mists of the afterlife, and this was no sacred valhalla where warriors of the clans of Mandalore would fight for ages in a tournament of blood before the throne of Kad Ha’rangir. This was death, lonesome death, where there was no return, no glory. An endless journey, it seemed, until, not far off the path that she trudged a face appeared.

 

Not any face, but a familiar face, cracked and covered with the crystalline ice of space exposure, the snear he always wore obscured by torn and frozen skin.

 

Father!

 

Almost unbidden she quickened her pace until she was as close as she could be without leaving the path. The face turned to look at her, the eyes unfocused, but soon they shown their familiar disappointment.

 

“Rose, ever my shining star of chagrin. Surely you did not die with any accomplishment did you?”

 

I…

 

“You died a worthless death, with nothing to show for it but a string of humiliation.” His head turned smugly away, “At least I conducted myself with honour, my sacrifice assured peace in our time.”

 

Anger peaked in Rose and her former delight at seeing him fled with the dawning of a terrible rage.

 

Your sacrifice meant kriffing nothing you fool! You left me and mum completely alone to fight the Sith and died a fool's death. The Sith are back, only delayed a decade and now no one remembers your name. She spat into the water, causing the face to draw back in shock. I hate you and all that you stood for. She stripped off the shirt and threw it into the water where a storm of hands devoured it. I will destroy everything you loved old man. The Alliance, the Jedi, I have other masters now. And those orders will join you here in death.

 

“Rose, no please, Rose!”

 

She turned her back and stepped back onto the path, walking away as the blithering sobs of a broken man echoed behind her. If there was a path, she would see the end of it.

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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I couldn't believe my eyes as Nexu rushed out into the fray, obviously overlooking that I had ducked back behind the decaying carcus after the release of the third grenade. With little thought, I charged forth myself, the whirling of the gatling gaunlet letting loose its volley as I jumped from behind my cover. With my enhanced speed, it didn't take me long to cover the distance between Nexu and myself, the barrage of blaster fire focused upon the unending horde before us. I suppose that if I was to perish, this would be an honorable death, facing the infinite legion head on, songs of our tale living on through the ages by the locals who would find our deceased forms and the aftermath.

 

With a smile hidden behind the darkened visor I adorned, I passed the hunter, igniting my damaged jetpack just enough to launch my form into the fray ahead with a few short bursts of explosive ignitions, my Ryyk Blades at the ready as I twirled my form into a deadly spin where my feet landed, bodies falling in a circular pattern around me, the rebreather beneath my visor a handy instrument to have as my form released the knock-out gas into the air around me, adding insult to injury to those who had declared me their enemy.

 

Aided by the shifting winds of Tatooine, the gas roamed freely as it hissed it's way deep into the enemy's march, most unaware that they had even been gassed as they fell upon the sands, and for those it had yet to reach, hysteria and panic would set in as they stood at the ready. But my foolishness had not gone without a price, a stray blaster shot grazing my ribs and thigh as one managed a lucky shot similar to the one earlier that had damaged my jetpack, causing me to grow curious if it was the same being. But I cared little at this point, my thigh merely fathomed pain receptors, but the pain in my ribs real and fueling my onset of rage.

 

As both of my Ryyk Blades disengaged from their hidden sheaths within my cybernetic arms, I grasped them tightly and once again charged forth, carrying the mixture of air and gas with me as I flew forth. Some of those around me fell to my blades, others to the lingering gas as i cut my path through the horse, whom now was forced to engage in close quarters rather than distant shots, their polearms having little efficiency against the duo of Nexu and myself. Still unaware of the lack of blood and guts that my reversed blades should have carried, I faced the possibility of my death with open arms.

 

There was no fear, no regret. Only hatred, pain, and vengeance. Kad Ha’rangir was my only Master, and in his name, I would gladly die a death befitting the warrior he had chosen me to be. I placed my faith solely in he, the bane of peace, the Master of Destruction, my fate solely his to decide. I stood a true Mandalorian Warrior, unaware that my amber eyes grew distorted and corrupted by the darkness devouring my soul with each step I took. And the menacing smile that remained hidden by my blackened visor would have spoken mounds in testimony that I enjoyed each slain enemy more and more. Atlas Dark had truly embraced the darkness within.

 

A warriors roar erupted from my throat, my body numb to the few shots that managed to connect and melt flesh with fiber, adding only more fuel to the fire boiling within me. The roar, similar to the one Rru had only released earlier, was a roar of darkness, and its impending victory.

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Formally Known as Hunter Of Shadows/Dark

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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

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Then there was nothing.

 

Crix stood still for a moment, glancing around, trying to make sense of the situation. It was....impossible. What happened? One moment there were things, not real things, fighting and trying to kill the gladiator, the next they were gone. One moment, Crix was using his deadly claws to kill fish-men, the next he stood in the open, the corpses of beasts not far. The air felt different. Lighter, more natural. Crix hadn't noticed how the air after he had escaped the first beast's corpse had felt different. His very essence could tell the difference. And the voices...they were gone.

 

What in the cruls is... Crix cursed in his native tongue, loud enough to be heard. He didn't know if he should just turn and run back to the speeder and get off this demented planet, continue to chase after his prey, or maybe just give in to whatever madness he just endured. However, as he thought, the prevailing thought of catching a traitor pushed to the front of his mind. These events, whether it was a brief period of madness or some elaborate trick, would not stop him.

 

His scanner beeped, making Crix remember that he wasn't alone. He turned and looked at the other warrior a few meters away. He was still here. This...Mandalore was real. Unlike those other things and the ghosts of his old teammates. His skills were real too. He fought bravely. He would answer...

 

You! Canderous! Crix pointed his arm towards the warrior, laser at the ready for any sudden movement. At any other time, Crix may have asked nicely and not raised a weapon in a threatening manner, but the stress of the entire situation had built on him. He wasn't going to hesitate to fire if he needed. At this close, he was somewhat confident he could do some damage. What is going on here? Where is the tuskan? Where is Roarer?

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Dust in the wind...

 

Just as all hope felt lost despite my greatest efforts, darkness swallowed the world in a single lingering gulp as everything around me and in my sight simply vanished. And for a singular moment, I pondered if death taken me. Yet as soon as the aches returned, so did the world, the horde, their weapons, everything gone save for the two beasts that the two of us had slain individually.

 

My mind began to race momentarily as a sense of panic set in, the unknowing of what happening growing fully aware. For me, everything had been real. To me, it was no illusion. But as I stood here among the dunes of Tatooine, there was no evidence to back up my belief. Only the lingering corruption of my soul that ached for war. And it was in that moment that my mind returned to Nexu, his mind obviously doing the same.

 

Just as I turned to meet the gaze, and weapons, of Nexu, my own reaction mimicking his own as we both drew our weapons up each other in a stalemate, my gatling gaunlet and my hidden slugthrower both aimed at the being. Beneath my visor, I grinned, knowing the God of Destruction was on my side as we stared upon one another. But then the being spoke, my true name being spoken, unaware that he had heard me announce myself by it.

 

"And what do you want of the Tuskan?" I questioned, my weapons aimed with steady hands as i moved about circularly, my gaze ever present and attentive to his own movements. I would, without any doubt, act if he even appeared to fire his own weapons without little thought. For death would present me an everlasting afterlife filled with glory if I took him with me. "What is your business with Rru?"

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Formally Known as Hunter Of Shadows/Dark

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The path was long and wound through the pool until it finally found its end. The tears came then, pouring down her cheeks as she climbed out of the heavy water, she wiped futilly at them and sat panting at the edge of the water until a shadow came across her. The spikes, the joyless smile, so many teeth.

 

“Do you wish to return home child?”

 

Yes please, I’ll do anything

 

A hand was placed heavily upon her bare shoulder and the sickening cold that came from it froze her heart, fear creeping in at the edges of her vision.

 

“Then return to the beginning of our people and carve a path of death and chaos for me.”

 

She swallowed the fear as it bit at her.

 

I will

 

“Then you will have to die again to be reborn. Let those you love slay you and you will awake free.”

 

The hand left her shoulder and covered her face, the dark fear surged and she knew no more. The only thing she could hear was the distant scornful laughter of a God long departed. Laughter without joy.

 

________________

 

“Silently the night crept in and changed us all. You most of all Rose of Sharon.”

 

Mother? Mother where are you?

 

Rose forced her heavy limbs to move in the language shared by the two of them, the kinetic language of Lorrd, and brought her thumb against her chin with her fingers splayed in a line away from her turned up nose.

 

Mother?

 

In the utter blackness before her two leering eyes appeared. Both jade and bloodshot from Pryodase abuse, the eyes that belonged to the only Mother she had ever had. Riding the upper and downers from Haladreshin to Conergin or hallucinogens like Pryodase, mood swings that followed every high and every low, Rose had learned to follow them and react in a way that would prop her up. She would cover for her, even working shifts at the Blenadiin Cafe to cover for her when she was too depressed or drugged to move from her bed. If there was a person that Rose held more scorn for than her Father it would be her Mother. Instead of the strength that Rose had needed after learning of his death, her mother had brought the depression from that event to the home and lived in it. Bathed in it. Using every excuse to make it about her feelings, about her depression. Never once caring for Rose. She longed for her mother’s attention, for the love that she had shown when she had been a little girl.

 

“I bet you saw him, how was he?”

 

Not a care for me at all.

 

You never cared about me at all

 

She turned her fingers into a point and extended them violently, an expression of hate and scorn in Lorrdian.

 

Go overdose in hell

 

She squeezed her eyes shut and the world lurched around her as a screaming wail filled her ears, to only end when the harsh sand of tatooine returned to her.

 

____________

 

Her body was still shambling from its grave when she returned to it, joining and sharing the body with whatever awakened spirit had possessed it. The body moved against her will, its intentions to kill the Tusken before her very apparent. This spirit was going to kill her roaroar, Kriff that.

 

“Kill me!”

 

She shouted as her body continued in its lurching heave, the dead fingers tightening around her blaster pistol. Her voice was slurred as black blood poured from her mouth.

 

“Darling please, I can't stop it.”

 

Her voice begged as the spirit that possessed her brought the blaster to bear. If Dark knew his business, there were cloning facilities on Farstrider's Rest. It could work. She didn't have to give up on this life. Not this time. Though there was a bit of irony in coming back to life to only have to die again. Kriffing spirit bullshit

 

"I'll come back I promise."

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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Crix was not intimidated when the other brought his weapons up. An appropriate response. Too bad it didn't make Crix any happier. Slowly, he stepped circulary as well, imitating Canderous. Not as something to gain an advantage but instead to appear as an equal. Force of habit he supposed. He did it all the time in the arenas.

 

Crix quickly reasoned that coming out and saying that Black Sun had a bounty on the Tuskan was probably not the wisest idea, especially if this warrior was a friend or teammate. While Crix didn't doubt that his own blaster would be lethal this close, he also knew beyond doubt that Canderous' weapons could do the same. Crix didn't want to die before his bounty was done.

 

Black Sun has some kind of official business with him and hired me to find him. Crix brought his voice down from a shout to a more conversational tone. I'm just doing what I'm told to do. Bring the Tuskan to Mantell.

 

Crix continued to circle with the warrior, like some hostile dance, to the rhythm of tension. What's your relationship with him anyways? You and the blue haired? It made Crix a little nervous that he hadn't seen the blue haired individual the cantina owner mentioned. The lover. Course, Crix hadn't even seen the Tuskan either, though his personal beast was dead in the sands by Crix own hands. Crix needed some information before he did anything else. Did you three take out that ugly thing? Crix motioned with his head towards the dead Krayt to his left.

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A large eruption of laughter burst forth from my lungs as Nexu mentioned Black Sun, my visor splitting and sheathing its self as it revealed the blonde haired humanoid beneath the mask, my amber eyes trained upon his own hidden gaze. Though I did not lower my weapons, my guard slightly dropped and a smile crossed my face. "Ah yes, the Black Sun. I should have known."

 

It had been ages since I had heard their name mentioned, memories of glorious battles and triumphs dancing through my head. Most notiably my battle with the Sith Lord known as Furion as well as my designing the base at Dubrillion. The days of my youth, so grand. "Tell me... who leads my former brethren now. Jacen? Delta?"

 

So many years spent within the organization, so many battles. Such were my glory days. Days I hoped would one day return. But my time with the Black Sun had long been gone. I was once an Elite Operative, level five to be exact. But after a few failed bounties, I decided to retire, and leave that life behind me. My only hope was dying a death fitting a warrior myself, which is why i came to Tatooine, to the birth place of the only family i had ever known. And this is where i met Rose and Rru, a new hope for a warrior such as i.

 

"In truth, I have no connection to him, only the blue haired woman you mention. She is 'vod, she is a sister of our people, and why I stand before you. And yes, we hunted the beast, though, I do not know where they are..." My words fell silent as I realized the truth of the situation. I really didn't know where they were. I had been scanning the horizon since we came to from whatever that sensation was, and there were no bodies nor heat signatures to be found. They were lost to me as of this moment.

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Crix grew annoyed at the laughter. It was a good thing Ganks never showed their skin, cause if Canderous could've seen his face, he would've seen a look of annoyance.

 

I don't know, I only recently started working for them as a grunt. Crix replied to the first question. This person definitely acted like he was a part of Black Sun, but that could mean many things and that raised some questions. Why would an ex-member of Black Sun be working with a traitor of Black Sun? Surely this individual knew there was a bounty on the Tusken?

 

But then again...maybe he hadn't been working with Black Sun for a while. Maybe, he betrayed Black Sun with the Tusken. Sure, he claimed to have no connection with him, but men lied. Palms are easily greased. Money speaks in volumes to people. Crix knew that from experience. Still, the man had slightly lowered his guard and reveal his face. That was something to say the least to the Gank.

 

Sounds like then you need my help to find them Crix began to lower his weapons. The slight gesture of trust from Canderous would be enough for now, especially when Crix explained why he needed him. The Sands on Tatooine can make it hard to track people, but thankfully, I've had to track people here before. I doubt they have gone far.

 

Especially since his beast is dead Crix thought to himself. Crix glanced around and lowered fully, retracting all of his weapons for the moment. If the warrior shot him, then so be it, but as far as Crix could tell, he was out here with no options. Besides, Crix needed to hurry to find a trail. True, the winds of Tattooine were nasty, and Tuskens were good at traveling through the desert to hide their numbers, but Crix doubted that the female warrior would be as hard to track. His scanner wasn't picking up any other life signs immediately nearby. A couple of distant ones, but they could've been animals for all he knew. He just needed...

 

There! The sand was broken in a continuous line, as if something was being dragged. Quite widely too. Crix walked slowly towards it, aware that he could easily get shot in the back. He bent down, taking note of how the trail was made. Short smooth areas with sudden stops. There were small indents from something round. Whoever was dragging the object was struggling. Either they were wounded, which would explain how their were markings of something like a walking stick or a rifle to help pull forward, or the object was extremely heavy and the individual pulling the load was just weak.

 

Either way, it was good news for Crix. He couldn't help but smile under his helmet.

 

Crix followed the trail slowly with his eyes, tracing it across the dark sands. One end came from near the Krayt, where the trail was lost in all of the action done on the sands by the two warriors. However, the other way led around dune bases. Crix tried to project the trail with what lifesigns were showing on his scanner. It could see there was something, though somewhat distant. He stood up, gestured to the other warrior to follow, and began to make his way. Tell me Canderous, what is a Mandalore?

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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.

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"I see." Much had changed since I was a part of the Black Sun, and as I viewed the being before me with my forbidden sight, some things hadn't. Briefly I smiled. Lowering my weapons, I sheathed them, watching as the Hunter before me began tracking Rru and Rose. He had little to worry about. I would never shoot an opponent in the back, but found solace in the fact that he trusted me enough to. "Its an honorable career, and the pay isn't half bad."

 

In truth, I didn't really need his help tracking Rru and Rose. Tatooine may have been a big place, but I have walked these dunes for many years now, so I knew them as well as I knew myself. Still, I was curious as to why the Black Sun wanted Rru, and this seemed like the easiest route to go in finding that information out. So I would play the part presented to me as i followed him swiftly.

 

"Mandalore is the leader of my people." I spoke with a slight chuckle, surprised that the being before me had never heard the title, nor of our heritage. To know of Mandalorians is to know of Mandalore. "Or one of our adopted homeworlds. Whichever you are asking about. It means 'Sole Ruler' in my native tongue."

 

As I spoke this, an uneasy feeling began to settle over me, a pull to the far off distance that reeked of doom and dread. I couldn't explain it, only that it urged me to make haste in our hunt of Rru and Rose. Without thought, I ran out to the forefront, quickly following the trail until we came to a elongated set of caverns. By now, the certainty of what we would find had settled into my heart, the feeling of dread thick and lingering. Only, despite that, I wasnt ready to see what I was about to witness.

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Formally Known as Hunter Of Shadows/Dark

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Crix grunted to the comment from Canderous, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Crix wasn't exactly the person who cared about things like honor, unless it came from completing a job. True, he didn't betray people needlessly, but he didn't take a sense of pride in his work. In the gladiatorial ring, those who had 'honor' typically got killed by the less honorable. And in bounty hunting, honor was a luxury, not a necessity or something beneficiary. However, Canderous was right about the pay. This job would afford him a few new implants. Crix couldn't help but momentarily imagine a new weapon for his wrist. A flamethrower would've been really useful in that madness fight.

 

So you were the leader of your people Crix commented. What happened, you got too old fo-

 

When Canderous rushed off ahead of him, Crix hurried after. He couldn't help but notice how this other warrior suddenly ran with a sense of fear or panic. Crix guessed that he was probably concerned for his friend the Tusken or the blue haired, but why rush now? Why not earlier?

 

Crix arrived at the entrance to the caverns slightly behind Canderous and opened his eyes a bit in surprise. The cavern was momentarily bathed in an unnatural mauve, only to quickly be encased in darkness. But in that moment, Crix saw. There was blood on the ground. The air....it was different. It was like before, during the madness. Heavy, though less so. But as Crix looked into the cave, he saw two falling forms, one easily identified as a tusken, stained with blood. The other, a mutilated corpse. At that moment, his sensor in his helmet stopped revealing one of the life signs, indicating something was dead or dying. It was obvious what was the cause. He could see the head rolling slowly towards him and Canderous, coming to a complete stop, its face pointed towards the former Mandalore. The head of a human, which Crix supposed had blue hair.

 

He couldn't help but utter outloud, reflecting on what the Cantina owner said. Some lover's quarrel. He had seen and hunted scumbags before. This was like no other. Except that Crix wanted to kill him before turning him in.

 

Crix instinctively flexed his fists twice, arming his wrist laser and the sleeping darts in his robotic hand. Grass grow. Birds fly. Traitors betray.

 

Crix hunted.

 

Crix's robotic eye implant flickered to night vision, allowing his own vision to pierce the blackness. He waited a moment to see how Canderous reacted to this grim scene.

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“Welcome home child.”

 

Beep

 

The shrill beeping sounded distinctly medical in nature and the air had changed in her nostrils from the dark and dank tatooine air to the recycled air of a space station. It had been so sudden. A flash of a blade and she had awoken here. She slowly opened her blue eyes and stared straight into a HUD screen that appeared above her.

 

| Black Sun Criminal Syndicate Cloning services welcomes you to a new life |

 

Ah shit was this in the contract?

 

| Please accept one of the following options for payment Rose Caridius |

 

Oh what the- her mind spun as she looked at the two options.

 

| 1,000,000 Credits due immediately from a localized chequing account |

 

| Indentured servitude for no less than ten years |

I am Groots. She slowly lifted her arm to type in her access account number and selected the |OK| option.

 

|Thank you, and may you live deliciously. - Your neighbourhood Tatooine cloning Services Bureau |

 

When she sat up her eyes drifted across her naked form. No giant hole, no gaping wounds, no broken back. SHe was whole. She was new, and she had nothing but her skin. Somehow she had made it out, she was alive, and so was roarroar and she had to get back to him.

 

________________

 

 

Several hours later and several overpriced calls later a message arrives for Dark.

 

“Hey its Rose. You won't believe this but I think my last contract included a death clause to milk me out of money so I uhhh and several hundred miles above you with nothing but this comm link and a towel. Is Roarroar allright? I could use my stuff if you want to grab it.”

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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I looked on in horror as I gazed upon the carnage, unable to look away, unable to grasp my thoughts as my mind raced with chaos and questions. Rose laid there, defiled and grotesque. And Rru. Rru laid just a mere distance away, covered in blood, clutching what appeared to be a lightsaber, noticeably knocking at death's door. Anger flooded me at first, unaware to what had transpire here and what the tusken grasped a lightsaber. I knew of his sensitivity, evident of my first gaze upon him with my forbidden sight. But never could have I guessed he possessed such a weapon, a signifying blade of those i once chose to hunt.

 

I was glued in my stance, unable to move, nor react, as I looked upon the two in anger filled horror, questions of what, how, who, and why all plaguing my concious. Frozen, I tried to make sense of things. Just hours ago, we were beginning such a great hunt. Now, here they laid, Rose dead, wounds unrecognizable while Rru gripped a weapon I never thought he possessed. While my heart urged me to pounce upon the Tusken for what he seemingly had done, logic kept me in place, as darkness lingered about immensely in the air which caused me to ponder what was real and what wasn't.

 

"This is what happened." I spoke aloud to Nexu, the look of confusion and grief reappearing upon my face as my gazed remained upon Rose and Rru unwavering. "I no longer hold the title of Mandalore because I lead too many to death."

 

But in the back of my mind linger a logic I felt hard to fight. It spoke of a warriors death, the very foundation of our people and our beliefs, that we should wage war in order to find ourselves a worthy afterlife. And as I gazed upon the two below, it reminded me of why I released the title of Mandalore, why I had became dar'manda, as I led so many to pointless deaths, their souls lost to manda even in the rebirthing of cloning technology. You may live countless times, but the soul only dies once. This is why Mandalorians revered cloning. It was damnation.

 

"I've led two more down the path as dar'manda." I spoke as tears streamed down my face, the ache empty in my chest as I felt sorrow fill my heart, unaware that I had included Rru in that very statement. "Truly, I am cursed.

 

And without any indication nor warning, as I gazed upon Rose and Rru, my slugthrower found its round right through my heart, my aim pressed against the body sleeve and under the chestplate, a perfect shot that blew away my heart in the same matter that it ached only moments before: shattered. My body slowly slumped to its knees, blood from my missing heart feeling my chest cavity and pouring from the singular hole that now bored its path through my form, spilling its contents to the ground before me. And as I looked to the starry sky above as my breath left my lungs and my soul with it, I saw it with clarity as time slowed to a singular halt.

 

"Death is but the beginning." The voice from before spoke, the feeling of pride and vengeance feeling my soul, echoing the voice's own tone. "You're time has not yet come. I will not allow you to perish until you have fulfilled your duty. My child. My dar'manda. You will wage my war.

 

"I am unworthy. I spoke in grief and anger, my thoughts flowing back toward the dar'manda that I once led under the title of Mandalore the Souless, of my clan's annihilation, of Luna's demise, and now Rose of Rru. "I cannot lead more souls away from manda and away from the eternal. I won't.

 

"Fool! The voice spoke in anger. "Their souls are not mine to claim until war has been waged. Wage my war and I will grant them their eternity, their manda. This is the truth of the Taung, the truth of Mandalorian, the truth of Kad Ha'rangir! Without it, there is no rest.

 

"What do you mean? I poised, a glimmer of hope feeling my soul as the promised was made. "They are already dead. What can be done for their souls?"

 

"I am Kad Ha'rangir!" It spoke, its voice resonating down into the depths of my soul, its emotions washing over me as if waves crashed upon the shore that was my soul, the truth of it baptizing me in its power. "I am destruction. I am war. I am death. I am all! Now give yourself to me."

 

But I already had. As time begin to move forward once more, I felt a new purpose flow into me. Even as my life disappeared from existence, i felt its power flowing through my soul, rekindling a fire lost so long ago. My emotions were strong, dark in nature, and war beckoned me. I didn't know why, but I reveled in this knowing, taking it all in like an expiring sponge as the darkness engulfed me, both in mind and in spirit. Little did I know that when I was cloned, I would no longer carry the alias of Atlas Dark, that I would once again carry my true name as Canderous Bralor, and that my sole objective would be war. All I knew was the warm embrace as I accepted his offer fully and completely this time.

 

"Your soul is mine dar'manda. Be reborn through me."

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Formally Known as Hunter Of Shadows/Dark

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As Canderous shot himself with his own slug thrower, several thoughts ran through Crix's head. When the warrior drew his weapon, Crix immediately thought that perhaps this was an elaborate trap, all set by the Tusken. This person was drawing their weapon to kill Crix here and now, at a moment when Crix was surprised by the dead corpse. It made sense in the Gank's mind. Teammates betrayed for money. Why wouldn't a stranger?

 

As the shot began to fire, aimed at the user's own heart in an attempt of suicide, Crix' thoughts turned to how maybe this was an extension of the 'madness' he had experienced earlier. Maybe Crix had taken it better then Canderous had. After all, this was a strange day. Crix had disintegrated the head of a flying beast who's corpse nearly crushed him, fought the ghosts from his past, was nearly killed by other ghosts of some aquatic species, and just witnessed what looked like a Tusken killing his lover. All within a few hours. Any normal individual would've been driven mad. But Canderous didn't strike Crix as a mad individual, or a weak-willed one. He was a warrior who was able to deal with the harshness of life. Maybe Crix was imagining this too? But yet, this warrior was much more real compared to the ghosts earlier.

 

As the shot tore through the other side of the warrior's body, the next thought that ran through Crix' head was that of pity. What the warrior said, about leading people to death. If this was a true suicide, the warrior was killing himself out of guilt. Here this man was, a strong warrior who should've been proud of his fighting, giving in to guilt. Crix felt sorry for the warrior. What a pathetic way to go. Still, Crix didn't like this feeling. The feeling of pity passed quickly however. If the warrior was killing himself because he was blaming himself for the Tusken killing his lover, then he must have been a friend with the traitor. Yes, that was it. Crix didn't need to feel pity nor attachment to this warrior. He was simply an ally with his bounty. His death would've been inevitable. This simply made it easier for Crix to collect his bounty.

 

The final thought Crix had as the corpse fell was one of profit.

 

Maybe something extra Crix thought, eyeing the corpse. Crix would ask Black Sun if there was a bounty on a Canderous, saying he met the individual on his hunt, and if so, he could prove 'he' killed him. If not, Crix would mention how the warrior killed himself, and maybe Crix could talk about how the warrior admired Crix's efficiency and earn some recognition with Black Sun. A Win-Win situation for the bounty hunter. And those weapons could sell for something nice. And that jetpack. Crix wondered if he would need to get it repaired and refitted.

 

Crix stood a moment in silence, looking at the dead body of Canderous. The starry night was eerily quiet. But Crix's thoughts suddenly remembered the reason he was here in the first place.

 

Oh yes, nearly forgot about you Crix spoke out loud to his prey, unnaturally happy. He had a bounty in the palm of his hand, the corpse of someone who would either bring riches or credit, and the satisfaction of being able to enjoy this. As he walked forward into the cave, he pulled a vibrodagger from his leg and began to tap it on the metal of his armor. The cave echoed the clinks. As each one echoed, he imagined the faces of his dead comrades, and smiled. The voices weren't speaking to him. No, now Crix was speaking to them by speaking to the Tusken.

 

I just want you to know, that this is a bit personal for me As Crix walked forward, he gently kicked the dismembered head aside. I mean, you are a traitor, and I have a thing about traitors. The thing about them is that they don't deserve life. They don't deserve anything. They deserve.. Crix stopped to think of the right word. A word for death. But he could'n't get the basic version of it. He would have to use the Gank word for it. Kre'lga. Its a word for death. A brutal, unceremonious, unfulfilling death. Course you will get something better. Your death fulfills two things

 

Crix's robotic eye highlighted something for the Gank. He looked at the Tusken's hand to see a cylindrical metal object. Some sort of weapon? Crix looked at it intently. He wasn't familiar with it and was a little curious. But it didn't distract him from talking to his prey. With his dagger in right hand, he turned it on, the edges of the blade glowing slightly as well as an engraved name on the side. A perfect killing tool for close range, but also, for Crix's preferred method with daggers.

 

The first thing your death does is that it fulfills my need for credits. Black Sun has a nice bounty on you, and I always could use some extra money to pay off for some more enhancements. A Gank has to keep upgrading. But your death, see, it fulfills something greater for me

 

At this point, Crix was standing a ten feet away from the Tusken. It was a good thing the mask hid Crix's face: a grinning devilish row of teeth was hidden underneath, like a Nexu about to strike from the trees. He rose his arm, preparing to throw, aiming for the neck.

 

Killing you fills me with a sense of rightness. It confirms my superiority. When I kill you, I kill a traitor, and remind my dead comrades that I am better. His wrist pulled back, preparing to loose the dagger toward his prey, the name of Farsek glowing glinting on it. I am better than all of them.

 

And with those words, Crix sent the weapon sailing towards the Tusken's neck, aided by his robotic eye and passion to kill the traitor where he lay.

 

<>

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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

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Killshot request: Crixus vs. Rruror’rur’rr

 

Description of scenario: Firstly, I’ve gotta congratulate everyone involved in this thread for writing out a long, complicated plotline, and making it absolutely gripping. Writers allowing their characters to become seriously wounded, multiple party deaths (although the presence of Your Friendly Neighborhood Black Sun Cloning Station offsets that sting somewhat)... this isn’t easy to write. Kudos.

 

After a prolonged fight with a Krayt dragon that resulted in one character succumbing to her wounds, the already-wounded Rruror’rur’rr made the decision to commit ritualistic suicide and allowed himself to be possessed by a Dark Side spirit in his death throes. Having spent considerable time tracking Rruror’rur’rr, Crixus eventually succeeds in tracking his bounty to a rather gruesome scene and made to dispatch his prey. One has to question the wisdom of opening the engagement by throwing a vibrodagger rather than making use of the small arsenal that he is carrying, however. After all, there is no kill quite like overkill.

 

Rruror’rur’rr, for his part, is dying. Outside of immediate medical care, it is difficult to imagine him surviving this scenario. Already having endured significant wounds and bleeding out from committing ritualistic suicide, the Tusken is at a severe disadvantage in this fight, even considering the fact that he has procured a lightsaber and has allowed himself to be possessed by a demonically-powerful Dark Side spirit. Furthermore, it is difficult to imagine him being able to defend himself efficiently using such an esoteric weapon without proper training.

 

My ruling is as follows:

 

 

Crixus: Killshot succeeds

 

Maimed, disemboweled, and now with a vibrodagger sticking out of him, Rruror’rur’rr finally succumbs to his wounds. Crixus gets the next post.

 

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As the vibroblade sailed through the air, Crix was surprised at the sudden movement and noise that uttered from the Tusken. Crix’s gladiatorial instincts began to kick in once again, guiding his actions to safety. As the blade of purple and blue energy erupted from the strange device that he had noted before, Crix began to jump up and backwards to safety. However, he growled slightly in pain as the blade grazed and touched the bottom of his right foot, the leg beginning to malfunction. This day had been a painful day.

 

Picking himself up from the ground, Crix growled in anger and frustration. This prey was not supposed to be this difficult. He should’ve been dead already, the knife was just a killing blow. However, his helmet beeped once again; the life sign was nearly gone. He glanced at the Tusken and smiled again. Death was still death, especially for a traitor.

 

You really think you can stop me? Crix began to growl. He stepped forward towards the soon-to-be corpse. This time there wasn’t going to a knife throw. His right wrist blade extended. Decapitation was the best way for this being to go out. Not blood loss. Crix was going to make the Tusken’s body match his blue-haired lover, and take back to Black Sun the perfect trophy. You are dead you dirty sandper...

 

And then, in the stillness of the cave, awash with the dark side energies of eons gone by, Crix was fully enveloped in a moment of pure unadulterated silence as the Tusken drew his final last ragged breath and passed into the realms beyond.

 

And then, that moment of silence was gone, replaced by an otherworldly shriek that was like nothing Crix had ever heard inside the arena or out, a cry that made his fur stand on end. Where the body of the Tusken had lay in a pool of blood, a blast erupted, like that of a birthing star, eating the naked body of the Tusken up in a mere second and lapping up the blood on the stones as it erupted outwards in all directions consuming everything in a tidal force of unblockable dark side fire and electricity. Stones were licked clean of soot and debris, bones cleared of flesh just before they too were dissolved in the maddening eruption of hate fueled by eons of dark passion and loathing. Even the beskar that lay in the cave was superheated and reduced to piles of molten metal that hissed away into steaming vapors or melted into the freshly cracked stones at the onslaught of the power. Anything that had the chance to explode, quickly succumbed as well. When the dark side grieved, nothing was safe.

 

It was before this wave of super powered energy that Crix’s training was unequipped to save him. Crix was momentarily blinded by the energy as the gladiator turned bounty hunter was sent arcing through the air for not the first time that day and out the slim cave entrance to land with a crash on the scorching sands of Tatooine as the very earth and ground shook at the waves of power that radiated from the cave.

 

Crix’s body burned in pain as his flesh literally began to burn away. His singular unending scream echoes across the night sky as he frantically tried to put himself out, slapping at his exposed flesh and rolling in the sand, prying pieces of armor off to get at singed flesh beneath. It took only a moment to mostly extinguish himself, but the pain lingered. He attempted to slow his breathing, but found he was unable to focus. His annoyance and rage kept driving his mind elsewhere. He couldn’t help but think at how underpriced this bounty had become. First the beast, then the madness, then the suicidal warrior... He would have a word with a Black Sun representative when he returned to Ord Mantell.

 

Then the rumblings occurred. From the ground, Crix raised his head and watched as the cavern collapsed in on itself, weakened from the explosion; a thundering of earth, stone and dust, shooting plumes of fiery burning sand and stone into the air as the final resting place of so many warriors was buried for good.

 

He lay still in a mixture of shock and pain as rocks fell to the empty places where the corpses had been. The earth inside shook more and more as the walls became weaker and weaker. Within moments, the entrance fell, ensuring a complete cave-in. There was a moment of stillness in the desert air. All Crix could do was lay there, trying to process what had just happened.

 

And then it happened again, that same heavy feeling he had felt when the madness had seemed to overtake him; but this time none of his surroundings changed. He was alone against the sands. The warm night winds of the desert planet brushed by. Carried on those tendrils of warmth was an unmistakable voice; a voice of power and anger; a voice that did not belong of this world:

 

”You fool. No mere mortal can stop the will of darkness! Now you shall carry the mantle intended for another!!”

 

And then as the voice drifted away with the winds as quickly and readily as it had come, Crix heard the soft thud of an item landing in the sand next to him, a fine spray of course crystals rat-tat-tatting against his armor. There, in the sand next to his robotic hand, lay the blackened hilt of the weapon that the Tusken had tried to fell him with.

 

Slowly, still lying on the ground, he reached over and picked it up. His metal shrouded finger slowly thumbed a single switch on the side, an artic blue blade illuminated the Gank and the sands around him with an otherworldly glow.

 

”You are mine.”

 

Crix stood and held the blade before him. For a moment, he could only stare at the blade in awe. He had never seen such a weapon. In all his years of fighting, whether for the entertainment of the crowds in the arena or the slaughtering of bounties for the Hutts, he had never gazed at such a thing. He had fought against beings utilizing teeth and claws, pikes, vibroblades, axes, and blasters...but this. Even his own ‘claws’ paled in comparison.

 

The moment passed, replaced with a sense of hatred.

 

I am not yours! I am my own! I am Nexu! and with that, he roared his roar. Like with the beast he slayed earlier, it was a predatory roar of dominance and victory; but even as his voice carried across the cloudless landscape, whoever or whatever had spoken to him, the presence, was gone. Crix didn’t even feel like his comrades were watching. He was alone again.

 

Crix thumbed the weapon and the blade vanished. He sighed, shaking his head then growling in pain at his injuries. This entire job had gone poorly. He didn’t even have the corpse of that Canderous or any equipment to salvage. Heck, besides this weapon, he had no proof that the Tusken was even dead. He hated to admit it, but his first bounty for Black Sun may have been a failure. Unless....

 

Computer, have you been recording this bounty?

 

His helmet beeped once in confirmation.

 

POST COWRITTEN WITH RRURORRURRR

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Death was nothing new for me, its grip held tightly but for a moment before life flooded upon me once again, it's cold waters surrounding my body in an icy embrace as I awoke aboard my ship within its cloning tank. Memories of my death began to flood my mind, causing me to react as if it was happening again, my vital signs going berserk but for a minute as I readjusted from death into life. It was the part I hated about cloning, and in truth, I hated the idea of cloning completely. Yet, as the sole remaining survivor of Clan Bralor, I held a duty to keep on living, even if it took multiple lifetimes. "No. Not until I have my vengence." I thought in silence as I remembered Rru and Rose, even the being known as Nexu, and the consequences of my ignorance. Floating there, I pondered what would become of them.

 

As I sat there, floating in the cloning tank, my probe droids went about their duties, attempting to collect my body and possessions even as Nexu attempted to collect an unlikely, near non-existent bounty upon it, one managing to collect the helm I had fought so hard to claim and quickly returned to my ship as the two others went about collecting my armor and weapons as well as that of Rose and Rru. As of this moment, I held no clue as to whether they would achieve their objective or if my cybernetic form would be forced into its self destructive protocol following their destruction or tampering now that my vitals were non-existant.

 

But back aboard my ship, as the memories returned, so did the voice and the promise it spoke of and expected. My gaze opened up, its sixth sense probing my surroundings behind its eyeless birthright. Slowly I climbed from the watery rebirth, my form stumbling like a newborn as my mind struggled against the body's unused motor functions and I fell flat upon my face outside the tank, forcing me to crawl toward the chamber that held a change of clothes as well as a spare suite of armor. Inch by inch I would crawl, my strength slowly beginning to return as I made my way. It would take time, but eventually, I would reach my destination.

 

About a hour and a half would pass before i was dressed and in the cockpit of my ship, a waiting the return of at least one of my droids as Rose's comm would arrive, her voice coming across my screen and a sigh of relief silently erupting from my mouth. At least she had made it. By now, her weapon and armor had returned as well, leaving only my own and Rru's left for retrieval. Opening the channel, I replied.

 

"Its great to hear your voice." I spoke, the echo of sadness ringing in my voice. "Rru... he didn't make it. I'm not to clear about the details, but I found both of your bodies before my own death. I'm...I'm sorry Rose. I... i have no words to make this any easier. I was a fool and it cost you both your lives. But if you wish, the least I can do is give you a ride and return your armor that my droids recovered. Just sent me your coordinates. Dark out.

 

There was much I could say, or do. But if Rose chose to stick by me, and bring me into their fold, I would spend the rest of my lives repaying her for my foolishness by raging our Gods infinite war along side her. It was all I could do, and Canderous Bralor was a being of his word.

 

((Character sheet edited accordingly))

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Formally Known as Hunter Of Shadows/Dark

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As the Gank limped through the desert towards where the corpse of the beast he slew and the speeder just a little beyond it, his thoughts were all over the place. At first, he tried to just focus on going forward to the speeder. Ignore everything else, just get to the speeder, get back to the town, get a ship, get to Black Sun headquarters, get his bounty... but he was stopped short in these thoughts. He didn't really have a plan for after collecting the bounty. Sure, maybe go get an upgrade, but even after that, then what? Another bounty for Black Sun? If all of these bounties for the criminal organization were this damaging, he may as well as gone back to working for the hutts. And when Crix was honest with himself, he didn't like that idea at all. Black Sun held a more prestigious title for Bounty Hunters, at least to Crix. Anyone could work effectively for a Hutt.

 

So Crix distracted himself and tried to think on the upgrades he could get for himself. He was decent enough with cybernetics that he could install them onto his own armor. A flamethrower would be simple, except figuring out where to place the fuel of course. But something really powerful, more Gank-esque would require some technique. A cardiac accelerator, pressurized artificial lungs, pressurized armor...all of that was beyond his capabilities. He'd probably have to go back to his own home world of Nar Shaddaa. He wondered if that planet was still under control of the Imperial Remnant. It might be a good place to visit after this job anyway, go someplace familiar where he could recuperate before figuring out what would happen next.

 

There was the new weapon though. Crix looked down at his hand that still gripped the black hilt. Such a fascinating weapon. He didn't dare take it apart to try to learn it's secrets and risk unable to fully understand and recreate it. But perhaps he could try to install it into his armor later on. How much technique would that require?

 

Crix eventually reached the corpse of the flying beast. As he walked up to it, he chuckled.

 

Your master is dead. You did nothing to stop me. He kicked the corpse for good measure and almost spat on it. But it didn't feel right to him. This victory still felt tainted. That voice....that presence had done something to the Gank. Addled his mind and filled it with doubt. But the presence wasn't around now. Why did Crix still feel off? This wasn't like back during his gladiatorial days. Back then the crowds would chant his name, roar with approval, clap for him, bang the ground in appreciation for the show he put on. And his teammates would always congratulate him and they would drink together...

 

Crix shook his head and banished those pleasant memories. The traitorous dead did not deserve anything good, not even a pleasant thought about the 'good old times'. He bent over and picked up the repeating blaster rifle he had left. The speeder was in sight now. Just a little farther and Crix could make it back to the town.

 

But even as Crix loaded the speeder up with his equipment, his helmet’s scanner beeped at the arrival of something new. Non lifeforms moving on their own accord. Droids by the looks of it. Near the now collapsed cavern…

 

Crix didn’t think he simply jumped into the speeder and sped towards the site. Within a minute he came upon the sight of three probe droids around the entrance of the cave. Crix saw them busy at work on the slightly singed corpse of the warrior who had committed suicide. As they worked expertly with the precision of a surgeon’s hands, they removed the equipment that the warrior had carried.

 

At any other time, Crix would’ve stopped and wondered what was this. Some new salvaging technique of native jawas? But he didn’t. Instead he stood from the speeder and began to step out, opening fire on the metal beings. The droids, not expecting this, began to try to fly away, having gotten most of what they had come for, leaving the corpse behind. But as Crix continued to fire, one of his shots hit the last one to leave. He watched as the droid’s motors failed to keep a grip on what looked like a jetpack and dropped it into the sands below. But it did not attempt to retrieve the equipment. Quietly, Crix watched the droids fly away.

 

Crix cursed the droids, having robbed some of the possessions that he had missed earlier, but didn’t dwell on it. He instead wasted no time in collecting the battered jetpack. Those droids may have returned with reinforcements and Crix wanted to get off this blasted planet alive.

 

Several hours later, with the speeder returned and Crix some credits lighter, he found himself a ship to take him back to Ord Mantell. With a sigh, he closed his eyes in relaxation. But the images of his old teammates haunted his dreams with eyes of fire and bodies of sand. And there was the presence of something darker.

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