Wyvernfall

Rruror’rur’rr watched curiously as the Tusken woman sent her non-Tusken comrades away. He smiled as she spoke. “I have been to a world of the demons that suppressed our lands. There I killed and I lived.” Rruror’rur’rr’s chest tensed as the woman began to unwrap her head covering. This was something that was forbidden in all but the most intimate of settings amongst their people. Still, they were just discussing heresy and both self-identified as outcasts. Even amongst the clans their were differences. In Rruror’rur’rr’s clan the women and men dressed identically. Their sex unknown to all but their closest kin. The same could be said of their species. For while Tusken appeared uniformly barbaric to any outsiders, inside their own world they took in helpless orphans and adhered to a rich tradition. A tradition Rruror’rur’rr had been discovering was quite similar to that of the Mandalorians. So he sat, still as a stone, every inclination in his body tell him to divert his eyes. Still, he forced himself to watch. The face that he saw was one that differed from his own; but that did not surprise him. “I need an iron demon to whisk me into the skies. To find my Rose.” He spoke matter of factly before pausing, a glint in his eye, unseeable beyond his reflective goggles. “Unless of course, you and your newfound clansmen were looking for another to join you on one last hunt before I take our cause, my crusade, to the stars?” After all he had been through, the idea of raiding with one of his own held a certain familiar appeal. They were both outcasts in some way. He didn’t even need to ask her story. The fact was as delegate as they were, their fates were bound along a similar path. He needed help getting off of his home world and looming for Rose. The desert culture had taught him that such a thing did not come without a price.

‘Into the skies’ That phrase itself cemented in Rruror’rur’rr’s mind what he already had been coming to accept. Whatever the reason, whatever the cost, he would find his Rose. Even if his ancestors feared what fell from the skies, he would not allow these beliefs to hold him back any more. He had travelled into Hell and returned, fought the demons that sought to subject his world, traversed time in some dark-side warped battle, found love, died. Seeing the accompanying soldiers relax somewhat, Rruror’rur’rr took that as a signal that maybe he was not going to die, yet. “My name is Rruror’rur’rr. I too am the last of my tribe, forsaken by the spirits, ascended into hell, and he who was sacrificed by demons to be reborn anew.” It was a mouthful, but there was no other way Rruror’rur’rr felt he could explain what had happened to him without spending hours regaling the strange Tusken before him. Most assuredly they both had stories to tell. Neither had a story teller or tribe with which to share these tales though. Rruror’rur’rr felt a strange kinship towards the equally strangely garbed Tusken before him. Leaning close, Rruror’rur’rr whispered, knowing that what he was about to ask could get him killed for blasphemy. He hoped that her altered garb and use of offworlder technology spoke true though. “Can you help me find her? Can you help me,” he paused swallowing; his mouth suddenly dry and rough. Unable to finish, he cautiously pointed upwards towards the ceiling. He wanted to leave the planet, willingly. He knew if he was going to die, this might very well be the moment.

What happened next was not what Rruror’rur’rr had expected. His would-be foe had deactivated her weapon and stepped back. That in and of itself was of little reassurance as the accompanying entourage of goons were still present and seemingly ready to riddle him with blaster fire at a moment’s notice. No, it was when he caught a glimpse of Rose on the data pad that Rruror’rur’rr’s heart jumped. ‘The screen must have accessed these so called archives.’ He realized. There was no other conceivable idea his brain could come up with that would have drawn them here with that information. The only question was now; we’re these friends of his Rose, or foes? Eyeballing the gion squad behind the strangely clad Tusken, Rruror’rur’rr decided that discretion was probably a better choice in the moment. “She saved my life,” the Tusken growled in a gravelly basic as waves of images and memories too fresh rushed back through his mind. It was true, in a matter of speaking. Even though he had died; she had given him something to live for. Gaderffi still held defensively, the darkly clad Tusken refused the offer of the pad. It was enough that he could see the image displayed in it. He did not need anything occupying his hand should this be a sort of ruse. “Where is she?” He asked, each word carefully rolled over his tongue as he checked each for accuracy. Maybe they had her. Maybe they knew where she was. Maybe they had killed her. “You can, take me to her,” his words were more a statement than question, even as he tore his eyes from the screen to look back at his fellow Tusken. It was only then that it occurred to him to even ask, his voice a low grumble as he returned to his native tongue. “Who are you?”

Rruror’rur’rr gasped as his back arched away from the charged blow across his shoulders. The electricity arced through the thick cloth to prickle his skin as he growled angrily, hefting his weapon for another blow. The only thing that gave the warrior pause was the sight of this person’s decidedly non-Tusken, techno-wielding goons leveling their weapons at him. Even as the would-be Tusken stepped back, speaking in a stunted Tusken dialect, Rruror’rur’rr knew he had little hope of coming out the victor in an all out confrontation. So menacingly staring at the group, he held his position, righting himself. He showed he was prepared to defend himself, even as he made no move to advance again. At least for the moment. Growling a wordless Tusken battle cry, Rruror’rur’rr followed it with, “You came for me,” in his native tongue. He hoped it’s as simple enough in his meaning the words carrying an entirety of accusations and suggestions in their gravelly undertones.

Standing there in silence for several minutes, Rruror’rur’rr watched the blank screen. He was not sure what he was expecting. Truthfully he did not even understand what had happened in its entirety. ‘Filthy technology!’ Tapping a gloved hand on the screen seemed to result in nothing. What had he expected, Rose to just materialize in the room? Technology did seem capable of magical things. Blaspheming as he was already, Rruror’rur’rr wondered what the point was anymore. After several minutes of no response, the Tusken set his eyes on the rest of the room. It was filthy, something that would, and probably did, end up getting one killed in the harsh deserts of Tatooine. Shaking his head, Rruror’rur’rr made his way to what he could only assume was the kitchen; judging by the fly infested dishes in the sink. Opening cupboards he began to look for something to eat. Up until this point, he had not realized just how hungry he was. Coming back to life reanimated by a mysterious dark being really took it out of you. Finding several seemingly edible cakes of unknown origin, one appeared to be some sort of meat, and a unopened container of Jawa Juice in the cooler, Rruror’rur’rr made his way back to the large screen. Shoving aside a stack of documents and data pads with a flatter, the Tusken cleared a spot to sit. Not sure what else to do, he contended himself to sit and eat and wait. He wouldn’t want to miss Rose when she called back. Finishing his meal, Rruror’rur’rr contended himself with the remoteness of his location and the fact that no one had yet come to check on the porcine offworlder. Soon enough he found himself fidgeting with whatever doodads and gizmos were within reach. He really had not ever bothered with the enemy’s trinkets; but if they could allow him to find Rose, maybe he could find a use for other bits and baubles in the house. One thing led to another and Rruror’rur’rr lost track of time as the suns outside raced higher and higher in the sky. He was content to dig through the deceased’s belongings with impunity. That was until a sound outside caught his attention. Jerking his head up with a growl of concern, he grabbed for the smooth black gaderrfi at his side. He knew that sound: electricity. It was the sound of an offworlder preparing to attack. He knew that from past experiences. What he saw; however, gave the Tusken pause. There, a shadowy figure envelopes by the bright sunlight outside, stood another Tusken, with an . . . offworld weapon? What was this trickery? This was not what he expected. It was probably the furthest thing from. Even as he was shrouded in blackened robes of his people, this being was enveloped in fear of white and black; yet clothed as one of his own kind. Still, whoever this was, was not one of his tribe. They were dead. His heart pained at the thought and the dark voices in his head whispered wordless feelings of anger and revenge, urging Rruror’rur’rr to take it out on this trespasser. Gripping his gaderrfi tightly, Rruror’rur’rr raised it defensively, ready to strike. ‘What if this is Rose? Has she come for me?’ Tensing his body Rruror’rur’rr growled in his native Tusken, “Are you too a demon come to haunt my cursed steps? A wraith of the sands conjured to guide me? My Rose returned from beyond? Or have you come to claim my conquest as your own?” With that, he jabbed the sharp spear line end of his mysterious gaderffi towards the newcomer, tense and prepared to fight even as his mind pondered what could be happening. He did not know and that scared him.

**a barely encrypted broadband communication arrived for Rose, having been bounced over any public channel it could bounce on seeking out Rose’s assigned Black Sun comm code. “Greeting Madam Cariadus. My benefactor requested that I reach out to you to request a private showcase of your talents the next time you visit the Outer Rim. He would be willing to pay handsomely. As he says, my benefactor is quite handsome to gaze upon and his wealth knows no limits. He would be willing to pay you handsomely for the pleasures that you could transmit to him. If you are unable to come to the Rim, his excellency humbly requests a private holoviewing of you sent to this comm address. He will pay handsomely. I have enclosed a snapshot of my benefactor as he awaits your response.” At that moment, a still photograph of the inside of a rather cluttered and filthy moisture farmer’s hit played into view centered upon a rather confused looking Tusken Raider canting his head as he stared at the camera. ”We look forward to your response. *This message was composed and sent by the Internal Secretarial System 3000, Version 11.5. Imperial Copyright # 1hskA4gFfDs51230k At the bottom of the message flashed the comm code for the moisture farm on Tatooine and then the message ended.

The cool desert night winds howled across the barren wastes of the Dune Sea. Little moved at night on Tatooine and nothing was moving here, on this cloudless night. Nothing out of the ordinary; at least for now. A shimmer of light flickered in the air, a wisp bouncing along invisible streams of air. It finally alighted atop the tallest dune in the area; flecks of sand slowly building it higher and higher. In an instant, where once was nothingness, a hissing sound erupted and as painted stroke by stroke a black clad figure formed out of the air. The wisp vanishing as the finishing touches of the being’s body formalized into physicality. Standing there in robes, black as the heart of The Maw itself, stood a man. His garb was Tusken in design. Hanging at his side, a shimmering blackened gaderffi. This weapon was not a rough hewn weapon made of scavenged bits of crashed starship. It was a weapon expertly forged of mysterious metal; a weapon made for a crusader. Through the shimmering blackened goggles, Rruror’rur’rr stared out at the cloudless starry sky. He did not know how long it had been or even what had transpired in the moments since his death. The voices of his ancestors, ever present comrades, were silent. Inhaling deeply, Rruror’rur’rr took in a breath of refreshing air; air that was his. Mingling with his confusion, love, and loss, the solitary Tusken felt a strange set of peace. ’You are mine. Your body belongs to me. Until your death, again.’ Rruror’rur’rr’s body tensed. The voice from his death. It was back. As much as he wanted to die; it seemed as though all of the fates had conspired against him. He had walked through hell, defied his customs, dishonored his traditions, and defiled his people. Still, he was cursed to not die, but to live. ’Your ancestors led you to me. Your life was a smattering of eking by, desiring but never grasping. Together, we will go into the stars. We will go further than any of our kind have. Together we will bring revenge on they that subjugated our peoples and destroy our world.I shall give to you all that you desire and more; all you must do is my bidding.’ the voice pounded in the Tusken’s head. Each word a drumbeat against his temples. Reaching up with his black cloth wrapped hands, Rruror’rur’rr grasped his head and fell to his knees, crumpling in pain. ’Good,’ the voice reverberated. ’Kneel in submission. I will guide you.’ Then, as suddenly as the painful voice was there, it was gone. The silence flooded Rruror’rur’rr’s mind as he slumped face first into the sand, his body drifting down the dune. The winds gently fluttering the loose edges of his blackened Tusken robes, slowly depositing sand against his body. Alive. Alive, but not free. The remainder of the night passed without incident. The following morning Rruror’rur’rr awoke as the twin suns cast their warm gaze upon him. Blackened robes were of little use in casting off the heat. Yet, this was the first that the Tusken warrior noticed them; as the suns beat down and warmed his back. Pushing himself up, the night’s accumulation of sand running down his back, Rruror’rur’rr stared down at his outstretched hands in disbelief. ’Had it all been a dream?’ Flexing his hands, Rruror’rur’rr already knew the answer to that. It could not have been. How else had he come to this place, clad as such? The only question was *what next?’ Sitting in the sands, the Tusken pondered that thought as he played the events leading up to his death and his rebirth over in his head. Images of his demonic mount, the Mandalorians, his ancestors, his decent into hell, and the otherworldly voices played through his mind. Two things stuck out to him. The first was Rose, the blue haired warrior was he had become enamored with shortly before his death. What had become of her? She had died; hadn’t she? If he asked himself, Rruror’rur’rr was not entirely sure of that. He had died too had he not? Yet here he was. Perhaps whatever desert spirit that has seen for to curse him back to this life had done the same for her… Secondly, the voice. It had spoken of revenge, of attaining the unattainable, of teaching out to the stars. Normally, Rruror’rur’rr would have discounted such notions as blasphemous adulterations of age of traditions; but given all that had happened, he couldn’t. Looking down again at his black garbed hands and arms he knew something had changed. Not knowing what else to do, and with the suns beating down on him in an ever growing onslaught of heat, the Tusken picked himself up and began to walk. The first thing to do was to figure out where he even was. The deserts of Tatooine were unforgiving at best. ————————————- Forwards. Onwards and upwards. They were the only directions the desert warrior could go. As he created his fourth dune something stood out from the endless waves of shifting sand: moisture vaporators; rows upon rows of them. Spattered amongst them a crew of six maybe seven hodge-podged metallic droids clinked and clanked as they tended to the accursed machines. Dropping into a crouch, Rruror’rur’rr after on instinct. Even if he could not hear the voices of his ancestors, he still felt their guiding hands ((the force)). Slinging forward, like a sand panther on the prowl, the Tusken made it to the first towering vaporator with ease. From there it was easy enough to bash in the hands of the first two droids with ease. A third noticed the decimation and quickly sounded the alarm, sending the remaining droids scurrying back towards the farm in the distance. Meeting little resistance, with gaderffi in hand, Rruror’rur’rr set off at a loping gait after the droids. Cutting down the slowest as he gained on them before a blaster shot rang out and the Tusken dove for cover behind another vaporator. The farmer apparently took offense to the black clad raider. Clutching his gaderffi, Rruror’rur’rr careful righted himself. Within minutes, he could hear the grumbling of the portly farmer as he strode forward, having contented himself on clearly scaring the Tusken away. *”…better not have broken my newly installed Turbo 3000 or else I’m gonna…”* That was all that Rruror’rur’rr heard before he brought the clubbed end of his shimmering black signature weapon down on the man’s head just as he came into sight. A sickly splatter sent bits of blood and brain into the air as the man’s body fell limp and porcine in the sand. Lowering his club, Rruror’rur’rr pondered. The voice had spoken of more; but what? Setting off towards the house, the warrior wondered what might await him inside. Answers, he hoped. Inside, Rruror’rur’rr found relatively simple living. Aside from the fact that the man clearly was a slob and lived alone, the thing that caught his attention the most was the nearly full wall sized display broadcasting one of the most loathsome, albeit intriguing, displays he had ever seen; two completely unclothed tendril headed aliens partaking in what he could only classify as blasphemous bodily acts with one another. A lesser Tusken would have immediately bashed the offending display to pieces. Rruror’rur’rr however hesitated. He had discovered that, while seemingly an abomination, even the darkly clad ancestor in his death has wielded some matter of technology to his benefit and still been welcomed home. Jabbing his fingers at the buttons whilst trying, and failing to not watch the vile display splayed across the wall, Rruror’rur’rr somehow managed, through force or luck, to activate some matter of menu. As the screen turned black a voice echoed from around the room: “Greetings. How may I assist you today?” ’it spoke?’ Rruror’rur’rr took a step back in surprise. It was like he was in the belly one of those fo droids. Pondering for a moment, the Tusken finally spoke, his voice a low mumbling growl. ”Where is Rose?” “Pardon me my liege, but there is no one by that name in the directory. Perhaps if you could provide me with some details I can scan publicly available census data and locate who it is you are looking for.” Rruror’rur’rr stared dumbly at the blank screen. “Rose is . . . ahhhh . . . A warrior. She . . . Blue hair. Offworlder. She died.” “That information is decidedly unhelpful.” the smooth metallic voice retorted. “Do you know how many warrior switch blue hair exist on Tatooine alone?” for a moment the computer whirred quietly with the Tusken staring stupidly at it pondering what to do next. A few minutes of silent whirring later the computer spoke again, ”This warrior woman you refer to, she would not be an affiliate of the Black Sun crime syndicate that settled planetside some time ago would she?” Without pausing to await a response, an image of Rose Cariadus flashed up in the wall sized screen surrounded by flashing symbols of encryption that obscured most of the information associated with the file. ”Because if so I believe this might be who you are looking for. Not much besides a name and a comm code though, I regret to say. I cannot even tell you if the code is still good. The files on Tatooine have not been kept up to date for quite a while.” Rruror’rur’rr grunted excitedly as a familiar image flashed on the screen. It was her! ”Is she, alive?” he asked hesitantly, not entirely sure he wanted the answer. What if it was no? What is she was gone, as well, forever? Before he could retract his question the computer responded. ”It appears she was reanimated and left the planet. Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine. If you want, I could try the transmission code; although I assume it will only result in another Imperial cease and desist order. She does seem your type though.” ”Do it!” the Tusken snarled excitedly as he threw his hands up in the air. Quickly and quietly a transmission was sent out into the cosmos. The encryption on it was more than simple; but it kept honest broadcasters honest and without having any idea where to start, the broadcast across all usual channels was a long shot at best. Still, it had worked in the past judging by the stack of no contact orders in the bedroom.

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

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.

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

”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.

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))

From his ethereal perch overlooking the cavern, Rruror’rur’rr pondered, What is going on? Who are these people? Is this what the final trail unto death is like for all, a view into the unknown? The future perhaps? A future of unknown beings wielding unknown technology taking shelter from who knew what enemy. My people perhaps? But where is Rose’ body? Did they steal it?! Where is my body?! Perhaps this is in the past? If so, who are these people? The thoughts were a blurred jumble tumbling about Rruror’rur’rr’s oxygen deprived mind. Still, somewhere deep within his soul the very idea that foreigners toting weapons and, from the looks of it, day-to-day tools of unidentified technological nature angered him. Still his people’s lands were being defiled be this future or past. What would it take to end this war? And what would become of Rose’ body and his own? If this was the future were these technologically dependent beings also defilers of graves and bodies? Monsters. The lot of them! He snarled to himself. His disdain even in death for those he perceived as offworlders radiating through his dying energies. Still, in that moment of thought, a voice called out, the man-being below who seemed to be leading the defilers, ”The invaders shall not stop us. Have faith my children. The land that we have remained faithful to shall preserve us.” The true children of Tatoo…that’s right! Maybe these were the heirs of his people or his ancestors themselves. Perhaps they… But The Tusken was never allowed to finish the thought for in that moment, ------ The krayt sized winged beast thrashed about on the ground attempting to crush his much smaller foe beneath his sheer mass and girth; ever while searing hot blasts of red pain tore through his body. Sting me with your quills you pesky vermin. I shall not die! As his tiny foe leapt into the air, Raka swung his wing about in an effort to send the small wingless man back to where he belonged, the ground. As the man landed, Raka reared up his mouth wide open, blood and saliva dripping from his fangs. Beneath his shadow the little man stood alone, defiant until the end. You should have run tasty morsel. And in that moment, Raka lunged downward, his entire body flipping into the air with a flap of his damaged wings, bringing his full weight and width to bear down on the little man who was even now pointing another of his pathetic playthings directly at his mouth. time to die little one As his tooth filled maw crashed forward mere feet from Crix, the little man pulled the trigger. Raka did not known what happened next, for the briefest of seconds he felt a white-hot burning pain that circulated like raging fire in his mouth and then, nothing. He was gone, his body crashing forward following its master’s final direction of momentum atop the small man, crashing down without a care for the snapping of joints, tendons, or sinews. Raka’s very being was simply gone. In that moment it went from being to vapors swept away in the cooling Tatooinian night winds. Death. ------ Even as he was dying, Rruror’rur’rr clung to life in the form of his unshakable bond with Raka. In an instant, that bond was severed. Rruror’rur’rr did not know what had happened to his last comrade, but what he did know was that he was gone. They were separated; perhaps to be reunited in the next life; perhaps never. Having lost his tribe, his Bantha, his legacy, and even his newfound love, Rruror’rur’rr had been driven to the brink; unto death, the last thing that he thought he had. As he approached death he had realized that he had one more thing to grasp onto, the mystical connection between him and his mount. That, now, was gone. And with that, the last dam on the tide of his emotions broke. The emotions that had only surged forth to the surface before let loose; freed from their inner bonds and rushing towards the absolute freedom brought forth in death, to become one with the force and contribute to the growing darkness. From his out-of-body-position, Rruror’rur’rr witnessed his own body begin to thrash and convulse. Blood and spittle spewing from his mouth as he screamed an underworld cry of rage and regret, blood splattering through the air, coating the walls, Rose, and the slickening the floor. Still, the ethereal forms that crowded the cavern did not seem to notice; their spirits lingering in a single plane, but still separated by a fractional moment in time. Then the final barriers snapped and his rage and loss knew no bounds. No longer was there a barrier between time and eternity nor life and death. The dark side surged, empowered by the very lands of Tatooine and the ancient bloodshed of so many dark side users slain 25,000 years before mingling with the ancestral spirits that had guided Rruror’rur’rr throughout his life. Spreading from the cave like an invisible cloud, the dark hunger of the force surged forth, whipping the sands into a tempest of flesh ripping crystals in all directions. Only to suddenly subside as the brokenness of time caught up with it. Instantly, the lifeless sands were filled with lush thick foliage for miles in every direction, surging with the force as it sought out lives to touch; stopping for the moment when it found even more fonts of historical significance, a mask, worn by killers of years gone by. The expanding force stopped in order to draw forth the darkness and evil inherently contained in the sacred Mandalorian object. Lying amongst the dense greenery that once was Tatooine eons ago were the bodies of two fallen great beasts, the greater Krayt dragon slain by the trio of unlikely allies only shortly before and the still warm burnt flesh of Raka, torn from Rruror’rur’rr’s bonds and mind, having unleashed the tempest of undead unearthly power. The warm humid air of Tatooine hissed through the leaves as creatures long extinct slept or rustled in the underbrush, unaware of the binding of their time and the current galactic state. Then, the dark side ruled freely, their Rakatan servants taking its will far and wide. Now, the Sith were the servants puppets of choice and it would do what it must to empower its pawns. In the distance, the sands of Tatooine’s desert landscape swirled silently, unaware of the wrenching change that was slowly beginning to overcome the planet itself, pulling it into a space between time. Eternity. A space between life and death, a place where the force was and is the only truth and violence was its language; the place where the ancestors of the Tuskens, the Ghorfas, the Rakata, the Sith, the Mandalorians, and countless other warrior and conqueror races. Back in the cavern, the leader of the band of refugees turned and looked right at Rruror’rur’rr, seemingly unsurprised to see the human/tusken’s spirit there watching them. ”Brother, the end is nigh for us, but our people, they will live on,” The leader whispered. ”I am Krinlo. Rruror’rur’rr, you are our last hope. We have been watching you since you came to my descendants. It is not yet time for you to join us. We need to… …wait, what is that? Everyone get back from the entrance! Go deeper into the caves! NOW!!” Turning back from Rruror’rur’rr, the leader shouted at his people, urging the fearful crowd back into the darkened cavern, their glowing yellow lights barely illuminating enough against the inky blackness. Rruror’rur’rr could taste their fear. It was palpable and it empowered him. He could die if that was needed. Courage in the face of death. Unlike these pitiful cowards hiding from their fates. And then from the skies above rained down white hot burning fire, a torrent of pure dark side powered destruction. The greenery of the planet was instantly ignited in hellish choking flames, hot enough to peel the flesh from the bodies of the screaming forest creatures that began to run about in complete and total panic. In a matter of minutes, the dense plant-life of Tatooine’s past-bound to the present in the moment was gone, the soot and ash destroyed in the blazing heat, leaving only molten slag across the surface of the world. Inside, the staff wielding guardians that flanked Krinlo forced their way through the panicked crowds pushing their way into the cavern, their leader following closely behind them. Outside, the screams of anguish pierced Rruror’rur’rr’s ears and then fell silent as they were obliterated from memory. With a surge in the force, the staff wielding Kumumgah extended their hands, swirling them about in a mystical fashion, the crystals in their staves glowing as golden energy crackled and pulsed between them flowing into Krinlo, who with a surge of pure darkness, held up his open-faced palms to the opening as the flames raced in, an inferno of pure destruction and despair, only to be buffeted against the invisible barrier extending from Krinlo’s hands from floor to ceiling enveloping the entire room in a dark fear powered shield protecting those still in the main room. Deeper in the cavern, more screams could be heard as Krinlo’s other tribesmen were cooked alive. Rruror’rur’rr’s mind was buffeted with ancestral cries of pain and anguish, only to be suddenly silenced. For the first time in decades, his mind was empty. No longer was he whispered to by his guiding ancestral spirits. Silence. It was odd; but still, there was an incredible dark sense of joy. ”Finally, a sacrifice worthy of the darkness.”

With his knife in hand, an internal struggle began; the final struggle. He could hear the voices of the ancestors urging him forward. Only his doubt held him back. To regain his honor and honor his people would be great; but he did not want to die. Even now, at the end, I seek dishonor and comfort over what I should do. The blade shook in his left hand. Putting his right hand over his left, Rruror’rur’rr drew the blade inwards towards his exposed stomach. Slowly, inch by inch, the blade shakingly drew nearer and nearer to his goose-pimpled flesh. The moment the warm durasteel touched his muscled stomach, Rruror’rur’rr gasped, the air sucking past his clenched teeth. Inhale. Exhale. do it. Glancing over at Rose, her lifeless body lying on the slab next to him, The Tusken gritted his teeth. He could do this. He had to do this. The ancestral voices urged him onwards. It was too late to turn back now. This was his final victory. ”I am coming my love,” He hissed, as he forced the blade inwards, the warm blood flowing down the blade, slickening the handle. Rruror’rur’rr gasped, sucking the cool air into his throat fighting back the fresh pain that coursed up his body. Past the point of no return. With his jaw set and both hands firmly grasping the slickened weapon, Rruror’rur’rr jerked the weapon across his belly, the razor-honed edge tearing through his flesh, emitting a torrent of blood down his hips and legs as he gasped in pain. The agony unlike any physical pain he had ever felt before; close enough to mirror the torment in his soul. As the blood poured freely onto the ground at his knees, Rruror’rur’rr tumbled forward, with the sound of a sickening slap, into his own pooling blood. Rruror’rur’rr rolled over onto his back, his mouth agape in agony, blood running down his chest and face as he stared upwards to the darkened ceiling not really taking anything in. Instead, all he could see was a tunnel of hazy grays growing to blacks as he was gently carried along the seemingly endless streaks of life with a slowly growing light approaching at the end of the elongated tunnel. In that moment, the fear and rage were no longer a raging inferno; they were still there, but instead of fighting to be freed they throbbed with an otherworldly calm; sensing that their release was near; prepared to tear free form their bonds and bestow their gifts upon the world uninhibited by the bonds of their mortal creator. Still, even in his last moments, there was one link that shimmered through the waffling reality that he was quickly slipping from his grasp; Raka. Through it all, the Tusken’s bond with his mount was unbreakable; bound through the ages from Tusken and Bantha to Tusken and Bantha since the fall of Tatooine. ------ The Drexl bore down upon the miniscule being that stood atop the quickly approaching dune to challenge him; his maw opening up a gaping hole of arm length yellowed teeth and foul breath. From his mouth echoed out across the dunes a cry of pain and anger as several blaster bolts sizzled into his shoulders and chest from the challenger. Painful, but not condemning; over time Raka would heal, with only the smallest of scars to show for this challenger’s defiance. The final blast tore into Raka’s shoulder right where his wing and torso connected, making him wince in pain and driving his well-tuned flier’s body crashing into the sands; his jaws snapping in a combination of pain and rage at where his defiler was standing only moments before; only to taste his air as he rolled out of the way onto his still airborne wing before it too crashed into the dune. Turning on his chest, Raka attempted to snap up the small shelled being, to crush his plates between his powerful jaws and lap up the ooze and jelly that came out. ((3)) ------ As this realization settled into Rruror’rur’rr’s mind, he found a strange outcropping of peace as the oceans of calming rage and cooling breezes of grief swirled about his mind. The peace was his Raka; his last and truest friend and bond to the world as he knew it. To die holding that bond was the greatest gift he could carry into the next life, to oversee Raka’s quest for freedom, at the side of Rose, his last and truest love. Even with all else gone, he had one last hope to hold onto as he completed this last great journey. ------ ”Hurry...It is not yet time… …blood has been spilled. We, the true children of Tatoo, will overcome. Just hold on. The worst is over. You only need to persevere.” A ghastly voice echoed through Rruror’rur’rr’s stupored mind. Suddenly, the warped and hazy tunnel was gone. Instead, he was looking down over the cavern where his body lay in a puddle of his own blood alongside the slab that kept Rose’ body free from his death throws. From his out of body vantage point, Rruror’rur’rr could see that the cavern was no longer empty. It was now packed to the brim with numerous brown skinned Kumumgah, the ancient ancestors of the Tusken and Jawa peoples. Still more crowded in, in a single file line bearing their meager belongings saved from their sprawling cities. At the doorways stood several more Kumumgah armed with aged weapons of unknown usage. The voice came from a single being in a large ornamental headdress, flanked by a quartet of similarly clothed beings with circlets about their heads and crystal bound staves in hand. ”…We have not lost everything so long as we have each other. Hold on. It will all be over soon… ------ Outside the cavern, the winds of Tatooine began to gently increase, at first, before steadily bringing forth a maelstrom of chaos, sending bits of sand and gravel tumbling through the air with no guidance or reason seeking out targets worthy enough to stop them. The brotherly suns sank beneath the horizon as they concluded their day’s chase and the bright star-filled sky coming into view; the ancestral warriors of Tatooine looking down on all, their cold judgmental gaze guiding and judging the living and the dying as equals.

------ Gliding on the buffeting winds of Tatooine, Raka’s fierce vision could see the small man below readying some sort of weapon. It was nothing he was not used to. How often had he been attacked by hordes of such beings before he had met his ward back on Onderon? His silly little metal launcher did not scare him, lord of this world’s skies. With a screech that would curdle the blood of any average townsfolk, the drexl turned and dove forward, his body racing towards the sandy dunes below, the sweltering heat whipping past his wings doing little to pull any heat away, but the speed cooling the edges of them regardless. Pulling up at the last moment the dragon-like being opened his tooth filled may with a screech as several red colored laser bolts zinged wide above where he had been circling. He will die for challenging me and I shall feast on his body Hurling forward above the tips of the dunes, the drexl’s leathery wings beat the air sending waves of loose sand into the air with each flap of his 19 meter wingspan. Such a little being, all alone, the best course of action was clearly a frontal charge. Approaching maximum velocity from his dive, Raka barreled forward intent on catching the offending man in his arm-length dagger like teeth. ((2)) ------ On his knees beside Rose’ lifeless form, Rruror’rur’rr sat in silence, save for the constant unintelligible whispers of his ancestral voices in his head. Even though he could not understand them, he knew what said. It was time. But still, he did not want to leave her side. Lifeless as she was, Rruror’rur’rr desired to sit here a little longer. Together they would lie in repose here in this dry dimly lit cavern maw for all of eternity. Deeper within, where the light no longer shone, the caverns continued on, a winding interconnecting labyrinth beneath the rolling dunes above, inhabited by who knows what ancient powers. Gently reaching forward, Rruror’rur’rr pulled off Rose’ battered helm and nestled it in beneath her arm. Those warriors that he had faced over the years seemed fond of carrying their helms in such a way. With his blood crusted gloved hand, he lovingly ran his finger along Rose’ paled cheek, brushing a loose strand of her blue hair out of her eyes as tears filled his own, flooding the goggles he wore over his face. Reaching upwards, The Tusken slowly began to unwrap the carefully placed and intrinsically custom-based rough facial wrappings from around his head, slowly exposing his worn and pained face. With shaking hands, he pulled the goggles away from his face, allowing the cool whispers of wind blowing up from deeper within to brush his tear-stained face. As the tears rolled down his face and began to soak the wrappings he had not yet removed, Rruror’rur’rr continued to carefully pull back the facial wrappings until he could also remove his mouthpiece; setting it alongside his goggles on the smooth granite floor. There in the dim light, Rose could have just been sleeping, had it not been for the streaks of bloody spittle about her mouth. Pulling off his glove, Rruror’rur’rr used the not bloodied wrist portion to wipe her face clean. Allowing the warmth of his own hand to rest against her cheek for a lingering moment as the thoughts of what could have been raced through his exposed mind. Choking back a sob, Rruror’rur’rr arched forward as he raised himself up to gently place a lingering kiss on Rose’ still lips. ”Until we meet again my love.” He roughly whispered trying still, even though he was all alone, to keep his voice from cracking. Sitting back on his haunches, he wiped away his own tears, only for them to be replaced by more that flowed from his maelstrom blue eyes. He knew what he had to do next; even if it was to regain his honor, he still was hesitant. Until now, he and his people’s honor were built upon their pride. They survived where others would and could not. They fought and not only survived, but conquered, their very world that had been turned from paradise into hell; just as he too now would turn his pride in survival and the honor it brought he and his people to pride in dying, dying by his own hand, to regain a shred of his honor and to honor his people. With a clack of his rifle butt on the ground, Rruror’rur’rr slowly and painfully picked himself up; using the elongated cycler to pull himself up. As he stood, leaning heavily on his weapon he turned to gaze down at Rose again. Soon… Reaching across his waist for his gaderffi, Rruror’rur’rr was horrified to discover that it too was gone; left lying lost in the sands where Rose had fallen. Regardless, he could still complete his ancestors’ final commands. He would die with honor. He had already lost his bantha once and his new mount would be led by the ancestors to a more deserving ward or be cursed as he was to wander the desert sands for the rest of his life, a monstrous offworld demon preying upon any that dared to cross him. Even now, Rruror’rur’rr could sense that his guardian brother, Raka, had set out in search of prey, to establish his demonic dominance upon the desolate wasteland that was his new home. With one hand firmly holding onto his rifle for balance, Rruror’rur’rr began to carefully disrobe, removing his traditional Tusken garb. Unlike Rose, who would lie clad in the mantle of her people, he would not. His body would be indiscernible from countless unmarked graves scattered across the planet. As was only fitting. The secrets of his people would not be revealed even in his death. Several minutes of ritual removal of the garb that he had spent more of his life in than out of and Rruror’rur’rr was standing there in nothing more than his tightly wrapped undergarments. Looking at Rose again, he let out a deep sigh before he sunk back down to his knees. Carefully, he took the countless lengths of wrapping and his robe and laid them out one atop another before finally setting his goggles and mask atop the pile. Reaching for his bandolier, he carefully untwisted it from Rose’ shoulders, allowing the smooth aged leather to run through his fingers, pausing as each round of ammunition slid through his fingers. He counted them, one, two, three,… Twenty-six, Rruror’rur’rr had twenty-six rounds of ammunition left that were not in his rifle. That was more than enough to fight for quite some time in the traditional Tusken way. Normally a Tusken would have left his weapons to a son or daughter and in lieu of them a younger Tusken preparing to set out on his trials. He would need to improvise. Squeezing the soft leather in his fist, Rruror’rur’rr gritted his teeth. Even in death he could not do things as they should have been. Still, the ancestral voices called to him, urging him forward. Throwing the leather and ammunitions to the ground atop his clothes, he inhaled and exhaled deeply through his nose, his anger welling up within him. Anger at himself. How could he be such a failure? All he had done was live a life dedicated to following the ways of his people; but still, he was a failure. He had failed. There was clearly something wrong with him. This anger cracked open the churning rage that had been suppressed by the all-consuming grief that had overwhelmed him. Turning to look at Rose he shouted in his native tongue, ”Why?! Why me?! I am a failure at everything I have done! I dishonor my people! I dishonor my world! I dishonor my name! Even you! I love you and that too is apparently a dishonor!! What did I do! How can I control how you made me feel?! Am I cursed by the ancestors?! Did my father commit some grave offense for which he did not repent and now I am paying for it?! Why do I deserve this?!” Biting his lip, hard, Rruror’rur’rr could taste the iron tinge of blood. He hated himself. He was a failure and he was taking it out on this woman who he cared for and she was dead. How horrible! He did not even deserve to be considered a Tusken man. It would be better if he was buried as a child who had not yet earned his or her own way. Hatred. Rruror’rur’rr hated himself and it allowed the grief of complete loss to mingle with the righteous and unrighteous rage and it manifested itself in a heated swirling wind that whipped in from the creviced entrance about his feet. The voices were louder now, a howling crescendo, that tore through his mind and whipped his hair with an icy wind from deep within that blasted through the cave demanding blood.. On his knees, he reached down to his leather bandolier and pulled out his razor sharp homemade durasteel knife. It was time.

As Rose’ words failed and the breath left her body, the momentary respite of sadness and compassion gave way as the momentarily suppressed rage swirled back to the forefront, bits of sand and gravel whipping up in a miniature whirlwind about his kneeling form and Rose’ prone lifeless body. Throwing his head back, Rruror’rur’rr let loose an animalistic blood-curdling howl of pain, anger, and mourning that carried on the increasing winds across the vast expanse of empty dunes, fueled by the growing reddened darkness emanating The Tusken. As the weight of his loss settled across Rruror’rur’rr’s very soul, he could feel tears staining the inside of his facial wrappings. Deep within his heart still churned his volcanic rage towards the entire situation that had unfolded since his tribe had been slain and he had been forced offworld. Since then things had continued to side downhill at an alarming rate culminating in this point. All that he had left was his strange bond with the massive drexl, Raka, overhead. It was said that all a Tusken needed was his bantha and his brotherhood to carry him through the day; but Rruror’rur’rr’s bantha was gone, replaced by the much more cunning beast overhead, and his brothers and sisters were dead or dispersed. Even so, just as with Raka, the ancestors had seemingly smiled on him, granting him a new start to a family in the bloodstained blue haired female before him. She had been so different, yet at her heart, he knew they shared a connection, a connection that went beyond their warrior pasts. Now she too was gone. Lost in his own thoughts, he sank deeper into his mounting depression at all that he had lost. He cradled Rose’ lifeless head in his hands, studying her features through his blurred tear-stained vision, his mind and heart awash with a sense of hopelessness and loss. He knew what he had to do. It was something that he had hoped to avoid for decades to come. Where rage had pulsed through his body only minutes before, The Tusken was now filled with a new and even darker emotion, loss; a loss bordering on emptiness. Where there was emptiness that which was near would seep in. On Tatooine that often meant sand for it was the ruler of all that set foot on the planet and they acknowledged it, willingly or not. For a Tusken Raider that was generally a form of anger or rage at the wrongs done to their people by generations of offworld scum. For Rruror’rur’rr, it was similar, it was the call of his ancestors; his roots; his very being. He would abide by their will and follow in their footsteps. But first, She deserves a proper burial. A warrior’s last rite… The Tuskens were nomadic people. Ritual held a special place amongst them as did simplicity, but in those simple traditions were the very definitions of what it meant to be a sand person, and in that, there was honor. He would honor Rose the best he knew how. As gently as he could, Rruror’rur’rr replaced Rose’ worn blue-tinged helm over her lifeless face and then tore off his own longyi-type lower robe, leaving his tightly wrapped legs exposed to the blowing winds, and used his robe to gently wrap around Rose’ gaping wound. The roughhewn cloth hissed as it came into contact with the poison mingled blood. Carefully, Rruror’rur’rr wove his bandolier about Rose’ shoulders; perhaps not the most honorable way to move her body, but it was all that he could do in the moment. Standing, Rruror’rur’rr’s injured leg buckled beneath him. With a cry of pain, he tumbled back to the sands of his home. Using his rifle and brute force of will, Rruror’rur’rr shoved the butt into the sand and pulled himself upwards. With one hand on his rifle as a crutch and his other wrapped up in the ends of his bandolier, The Tusken forcibly, step-by-step, began to hobble forward dragging Rose’ armored body through the sand behind him along the base of the dunes, away from the nearby battle scene, and out towards the vast endless deserts of Tatooine in the shadows of the setting suns. To die is to honor my people. In death I will be with her again. To die will mingle my soul with the voices of my ancestors the very ancestors who were now urging him forward, to follow the ways of his people. In death he would regain his honor and join Rose in the vast void beyond that the souls of all chosen warriors went to. Step by step, Rruror’rur’rr pressed forward into the growing shadows of the setting suns. Rruror’rur’rr’s grief mingled with his rage, driving his battered injured form onwards into the final campaign, life’s final battle, to lose it all in sacrifice for the ancestors, to guide his people onwards to victory. ---------- As Rruror’rur’rr pressed forward away from the scene of the carnage, above him, in the cloudless sky awash in the vibrant hues of the setting suns, The Tusken’s strange offworld mount continued to circle. The drexl had always been confident that it was the apex predator wherever it chose to roam; but like his ward, he too could feel the deep sense of loss. It was mingled with the pain and suffering that Rruror’rur’rr felt; but he felt it differently. Raka, as The Tusken called him, was no longer the undisputed master of these lifeless sands. The beast that had fallen had rattled the creature’s confidence, so when a predatorial cry echoed across the dunes, Raka circled away from his mourning ward, he could clearly care for himself, and swept upwards higher into the air, his eyes scanning the horizon for the source of the challenging call. After all, was not his two legged brother setting off to die? As he circled higher and higher, Raka finally saw it, a single being atop a distant dune. Such a petty challenger. It will soon be destroyed. ---------- Minutes later, Rruror’rur’rr rounded a dune to find a small creviced opening that opened into a steep sprawling cavern where the voices of his ancestors howled with the wind that whipped the sands past the opening hidden in the vast sea of crystalized glass particles. Tumbling inwards into the darkness, Rose’ body following him into the twilight darkness within, Rruror’rur’rr let out a sigh. The voices of his ancestors were louder now than he had heard them in years. This was where they desired him to be. This was where he would place the life of the woman he cared so deeply about. This was where he would die. With considerable effort, fueled by his love and loss, Rruror’rur’rr, on his knees, maneuvered Rose’ body to a naturally hewn cleft in the wall, where, if he had his way her body would rest protected from the burning sands for all of eternity, her soul free to fly through the cloudless skies alongside his own.

Rising up as a sand panther completing its stalking and making a final lunge for her prey, Rruror’rur’rr strove forward, his rage tangibly swirling about him as bits of sand and dust flitted through the air in an invisible whirlwind about his rough-cloth covered form. The Tusken’s first step, buckled him at the knee as his injury from his fight with Rose screamed out along his neural pathways and the mighty warrior stumbled, but caught himself with his swinging gaderffi at his belt; a makeshift cane for the moment that happened to have swung forward at just the right time to be caught in his hand and prevent him from tumbling face first down the dune. With the makeshift cane he hobbled as quickly as he could down the dune, slipping and sliding along the loose windswept sands, each step a new lesson in pain that served only to fuel the growing inferno within. It was if he were caught up in a violent Tatooinian windstorm, the voices howled so loudly in his ears, whispering their commands so loudly as to be unintelligible. Still, their rage was palpable and clouded his vision in a sea of blurring red. All of his desire directed him towards the downed cybernetic warrior who had killed an unknown number of his people’s sacred Banthas, not to mention how many of brothers and sisters. The voices of his passed on predecessors drove him onward, each footstep a new crescendo of pain that fueled the voices’ rage and his own burning desire to bring vengeance upon he that wronged his people. Two steps from the bottom of the dune, Rruror’rur’rr saw through his blurred rage vision the downed blue form of the woman he had fought in the bar. She did not look good. Even as the voices urged him on, somewhere deep within his chest, Rruror’rur’rr felt a pang of pain different from the shooting fire that shot through his body with each step. In some ways, the pang was even worse. It cut through the vortex of screaming internal voices, pain, and rage, and ignited an even deeper seeded fire; the fires of desire and loss. Turning midway through his mad dash towards the fallen form of the cybernetic Dark, his pained leg wrenched and gave out beneath him, tumbling the Tusken end over end to the base of the dune, sending his gaderffi flying through the air to land in the sand several feet away. Without pausing to dust himself off, Rruror’rur’rr looked up and could see the blood flowing freely from Rose’s wound, the venom coated spike nearby. Arm over arm, Rruror’rur’rr, pulled himself towards Rose, the sight of the blood flowing down her chin spurning him onwards. The voices of his ancestors, still swirling, but now mingling with the fearfulness of loss and the fear of defeat cried out, ancient fears as old as the desecration of his homeworld, mingled with his own fear of death and the fear of losing this woman, the only one who seemed to matter to him anymore. Now, she was dying and he knew it, but could not admit it. Pulling himself through the blood stained sand as the twin suns began to set in the distance, Rruror’rur’rr pulled himself up beside Rose. Gently he cradled her head in his hand as he lay next to her looking over her twisted, bloodied, and broken form. With a rough gloved hand, he brushed the blood from her chin and made a hushing noise before softly singing in his growling low Tusken voice, his voice carrying over the sands, each growled note punctuated with the tones of loss mingled with rage. …across the sands of our ancient homeland, may your heart eternally fly, embrace the call of the warrior kings who prepared the ways before us, to bathe in the waters of eternal victory, defy this desolate world and smile down on those of us who press onward still, guide our hands and hearts until we meet again, until we meet again, brothers, sisters, we all…

Rruror’rur’rr pulled the butt of his aged rifle tight into his shoulder like he had a thousand times before, the weapon finding its natural resting place like a bird coming home to roost. Staring down the barrel of the rifle, he quickly got an up close view of the battle scene unfolding before him. Overhead, his massive drexl mount circled hungrily - a foreign apex predator seeing another apex predator encroaching on what he now felt was his territory. Of course, it did not help at all that his mystical connection to the Tusken below and his unwavering desire to take down the massive beast transmitted between them both, fueling their desires for victory and bloodshed. Staring down the barrel as he had countless times before, Rruror'rur'rr watched the scene unfolding before him a safe distance away. He watched as the mysterious being who called himself Atlas was nearly swallowed up by the massive king of the dunes only to be rocketed upward to safety as if the ancestors had plucked him from the maw of death at the last possible moment. ”The man is truly a demon or some sort of monster,” he growled to himself In his native tongue before adding, ”and most likely totally insane!” Still, The Tusken knew that the maw of such a beast contained more death than its crushing, swallowing, gnashing teeth and mouth clearly presented to the average offworlder. Many-a-Tusken had fallen to the bite of the dragon and his kin days after a successful hunt. The saliva of the beast having eaten holes in the gangrenous wounds their teeth inflicted. Suddenly, several explosions rocked the battlefield and Rruror’rur’rr winced, even from his safe distance away. Explosions were not usually a good thing in his experience; unless they were symbolizing a crashing pod or offworld vessel that had been desecrating his people’s sacred sands. Returning his focus to the battle, Rruror’rur’rr searched for an opportunity to pull the trigger. He and his brethren had fought smaller dragons before, never one this big though. Still, he suspected that these dragons had the same weakness. At least he hoped they did. Maybe at the very least it would prove to the black armored man below that the Tuskens were well worth the mettle. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Hold. Rruror’rur’rr’s finger gently began to apply pressure to the smooth trigger of his aged cycler, following the thrashing beasts head, leading it ever so slightly as he began to understand its thrashing. Just before the trigger put pin to primer, The Tusken was startled as the massive beast’s equally massive tail sent his blue haired vixen tumbling through the air and slamming with a plume of coarse sand into a nearby dune out of sight from where he now was. An enraged Tusken war cry escaped his mouth before he could even realize what was happening. The red that had been creeping at the edges of his vision due to the desecration of his people’s sacred banthas, now completely overtook The Tusken. No longer was he planning and thinking, instead, the voices of his ancestors transformed from whispers and suggestions into screams for retribution and physical guidance. Rarely before, had he ever felt so close to the ancestors, but whenever he had his tribe had been in danger and they had led him to perform great feats to save his tribe from certain destruction. Suddenly the rifle that was more at home in his hands than strapped to his back was pulled taut against him once again, his pinprick vision laser-focused on the far off beast. He could feel the creature’s movements before it even knew it was making them. Atlas was out of sight, but he did not matter. The man was simply a third wheel as far as he was still concerned and his desecration of his sacred traditions would be dealt with later; but right now Rruror’rur’rr entire focus was bent on ensuring that the massive dragon that may have very well killed the only living individual he had felt any sort of softness for paid for his transgression. Paid for it with blood. Proned out in the sands of his homeworld with his rifle in his arms, Rruror’rur’rr could feel the ancestors in his mind, his bones, and his muscles, as they took control. Gone was the tactical breathing, gone was any attempts at stealth. With an unintelligible cry of pure rage that echoed across the vast empty sands , The Tusken squeezed the trigger and in that instant an explosion of powder and energy hurled from the elongated barrel of his weapon, a metallic slug enveloped in a sheath of energized plasma, towards the thrashing massive dragon. In the mere instant that it took the energy-bound projectile to traverse the distance between Rruror’rur’rr and the dragon, The Tusken pulled back on the bolt of his rifle and slammed it forward, ejecting the spent casing and loading another round; but before he could fire again the Dragon reared its head and the round buried itself deep into the massive monster’s sinuses, causing the beast to let out an ear-splitting unearthly cry of pain as it reared back in its hind legs and toppled backwards with a ground shaking crash, sending plumes of sand into the air, obscuring the entire area in a thinly veiled sandy fog. Pushing himself upwards to a kneeling position, Rruror’rur’rr raised his rifle above his heads in both hands and let out a triumphant victory cry, channeling the satisfaction of his ancestral guides into the cry that echoed all the way down to Dark and Rose below. In the moment, nothing mattered but the fact that he had once again established not only his, but his people’s dominance of these lands. Nothing could stand against them. They, no he, was the master of this land and the sacred protector of these sands! The ancestors had willed it as such. Nothing could stop him now. Any doubt that the ancestors had turned their backs on him was gone. He was their chosen son. Now to deal with the blasphemer…

The sight, and even more so the smell, of rotting bantha flesh caused the edges of Rruror’rur’rr’s view to cloud red. The rage he felt welling up in his soul tugged at his chest and urged him to action as his massive winged mount and comrade swooped low to allow Rose to dismount at the same time as Dark handed him a rifle. Rruror’rur’rr took the weapon; albeit more out of reaction than willingness to utilize an unknown weapon from someone he had just met, just as a massive head burst through the sands and devoured the sacred beast that had lay bleeding on the dry sands. In that same instant, Raka reared back, and Rruror’rur’rr and his drexl mount burst upwards into the cloudless sky. Circling the scene from above, The Tusken took in the scene from the relative safety of the skies. From his vantage point, he spotted a dune several hundred meters away. With barely a nudge of his feet, the massive scaly beast turned and swooped towards the dune, coming to a landing with a spray of sand and dust. Leaping from the beast as it skittered to a halt, Rruror’rur’rr tucked and rolled, his wounded leg screaming in pain as he tumbled to a stop his rifle and gaderffi swinging about wildly and the KX-80 tumbling in the sands. Pulling his head up as he stopped, the Tusken smiled to himself as he made out his newfound comrades. Right where I need to be… he thought to himself as he shrugged his worn tusken cycler off his shoulder and pulled it forward. ((1))

A hunt, now there was something that every young Tusken knew intrinsically. In fact, it was part of the sacred coming-of-age rituals undergone by every Tusken to ever stalk the dunes. Nodding, more to himself, than anything Rruror’rur’rr smirked. Yes, he would undertake a hunt with these two offworlders; if for anything, to see how and who they were and for another…. He cast a sidelong glance in Rose’ direction just as she started off with the dead Jawa. It could not fight and thus it died. He reasoned to none but himself. Such was the code of the desert. As Rose walked back, the Drexl happily crunching the bones of the deceased rodent-like being, Rruror’rur’rr dug in one of his belt pouches and removed a single lengthy strip of rough wrapping colored the same as the desert sands. With expert hands, from a lifetime of practice, he began to carefully wrap his breather and goggles about his face one pass at a time. Even as he wrapped his head, his eyes never left Rose. Mandalore? Chrystac? Beksar? What are these things? What Rruror’rur’rr did know was twofold. First, neither of these could properly pronounce his name, a minor irritation that he’d have to work on. Second, this offworld vixen was offering him a chance to fight alongside her, albeit off world as they conquered together. What better way to learn the ways of the invading demons than by conquering them at their own homes and camps? Beneath his mask, Rruror’rur’rr grinned, his muscles pulling at the still fresh wound along the side of his face. This might just be enjoyable after all. The ancestors did not seem to be urging caution, on the contrary, it would seem, they were urging him to follow. Cursed or not, Rruror’rur’rr would do his best to learn these new ways to preserve the old. Perhaps someday he would return home again. And if that wasn’t enough, The Tusken was pretty sure he caught the subtle hint that Rose threw at him with the armor bit. He couldn’t say he wouldn’t enjoy that! ”Let us hunt.” he growled as he pushed himself off the speeder in a single hop to the sand below where the fearsome desert nomad collapsed with a grunt of pain as his gashed leg, still unable to support his full weight, collapsed beneath him. Rruror’rur’rr was glad that neither of them, especially Rose, could see his face, bright red with embarrassment as it was. Using his gaderffi for support, he grimaced against the pain that shot threw his leg fresh as ever and pushed himself upwards to a standing position; the weight of his injured leg held mostly by his heavy leaning on his makeshift durasteel weapon. Nearby, Raka threw his head back in a fearsome snarling howl, sensing the pain of his master through their shared bond. Reaching down, The Tusken picked up his aged slug throwing rifle and slung it over his shoulder and carefully hobbled towards his bucking mount, before turning to Atlas and Rose. ”lead the way,” he grunted in his native tongue, before glancing at Rose and jabbing a thumb over his shoulder towards Raka with a playful tilt of his head. He was not sure what she thought of the fearsome beast or if she would be more comfortable atop a mechanized speeder favored by many of the offworlding visitors, but it wouldn’t hurt him to offer. At least not yet.

Even as he slowly shook his head, his gaze turned to Dark. He could not be somewhat shocked at the mechanized being's observation of his people's basic beliefs. Still, it was clear that they did not understand the nuances of his people and he did not have enough time to teach them, outsiders, of his people's thousands of years of history. Besides, he was not a storyteller. It was not his place. Still, he had condemned himself thus far, what could a brief explanation hurt. He also appreciated the being's effort and returned the embrace of warriors that transcended cultures and beliefs. He gestured out at the dunes as his vision returned to the shifting sands and spoke in his native tongue, understanding that at least Dark understood him and assuming that as such, so did the beauty he was now seated beside, "There is much more to this land than the few cities of you outlanders. Overall, we have kept your kind contained. The magics of the far off secrets that no offworlders has gazed upon for generations have been protected." Pausing as his eyes turned to look at Rose as he spoke, he stopped talking at the look of lost confusion on Rose' face as he spoke, he realized that perhaps she did not understand even the little bit of his people that he had assumed. Truthfully, this warmed his heart. He would be able to teach her as she taught him. Switching to a gruff galactic basic he continued, "Countless generations ago the oppressors came from the stars and stole all of our water. They killed and enslaved millions. We, the strong, fought back. We were not enslaved. We were not taken by the techno-dependent monsters from beyond. Today, we that are descended from those righteous warriors continue to stave off the would be takeover by the descendants of those who were taken and indoctrinated by the demons and even the demons themselves." Pausing he pondered on the words Rose had said before he continued "Once our planet was lush and green. Filled with plants and water. The demons stole our water and killed our people. After we fought back and drove these techno-bound demons from our planet. In turn, they rained fire down upon our planet and turned it into a single giant wasteland of rippling crystal. For generations we existed, struggling to survive. Eventually the crystal crumbled to the sands you see today. Then the demon spawn returned. We drove them off time and time again and will do so yet again." The drexl screeched a cry of anger and passion, as it pulled up and landed in a rolling plume of sand and dust. Rruror'rur'rr smiled as he turned to his newfound comrades, his face wrinkling all through his cheeks as the rare sign of joy spread across his hardened jawline. Gesturing at the nearby ferocious beast with a sweeping open hand, he spoke again, "Raka. The beast that the ancestors blessed me with when I fought through and escaped the hell of the demons. Together we shall drive the demons and their ilk from my home. Perhaps, together, we can teach one another. You can teach me of your ways, your people, and your passions and I can show you the ways of my people and how we survive against those who would see us destroyed. I would even be willing to journey from my home with you to learn of your offworld ways." The ancestors had somehow cursed him and yet had chosen not to end him. He really did not know what to do; but he knew that he had crossed so many lines already. Why not follow his heart's desires and join these offworld invaders? Learn their ways? By learning the ways of the offworld invaders he would be better prepared to return home and drive the demons away for good. Who needs Glory? Glory is in living when everything, even the air, seeks to destroy you.

As soon as his finger pulled the trigger for the second time, Rruror’rur’rr was sliding back the bolt, ejecting the spent casing and loading another round. In that instant, he also observed the droid, truly an abomination of the worst kind, lurching its way towards him; clearly intent on destroying him for simply being one of the few that actively resisted their desire to rule and subject all to their mechanized will. The ancestors were on his side and were guiding him, warning him and guiding his actions so he did not need to think. He only needed to be in the moment and allow the ancestors to use him as their conduit in the galaxy. As such, he pulled the trigger a third time, the ancestral voices telling him exactly when to fire for maximum effectiveness. In an instant, The Tusken sent another energy enveloped round rocketing through the air towards the now airborne demon with a BANG! As soon as the round had left the barrel of his elongated rifle he shoved it forward in an effort to catch the metal man off balance before he collided with him and knocked him down. If there was anything that Rruror’rur’rr was sure about, it was that of the plethora of mechanized monsters in the galaxy one could never tell what tricks they had up their sleeves. Some were stronger; some, like this one, had improvised mechanical weapons hidden in the most convenient of places; and finally none of them seemed to like sand. …..or electricity for that matter he thought to himself with a grin hidden behind his facial wrappings. Catching the flying metal being with the barrel of his rifle made The Tusken’s arms buckle with the combined weight and momentum of his attacker. Still it was enough to use the weapon in a makeshift manner so as to try and guide the airborne attacker away from himself and towards the arcing electrical panel nearby. If anything it would afford him the chance to create distance between them and whatever other surprises the mechanized spawn might have hidden within its gaunt frame. ((3)) ((Alright, so you post one more time and then we ask Jaina to read it over and give us a ruling))

Crash. Rruror’rur’rr’s attack had landed just as he had hoped. Although the abomination had moved, his heavy weighted gaderffi had driven the spiked point of the hook-ended club portion of itself deep enough to do significant damage. He could even hear the mechanized monster’s internals whining at the invasion of foreign barbaric durasteel. The things Rruror’rur’rr had not counted on, however, were twofold. First, he had not expected for his gaderffi to become wedged in the metal man’s body; but wedged it was, stuck fast the internal servos having pulled it fast into the damage he had wrought. This, combined with the droid’s movement …I should have known that the demon would respond at the last minute… had sent The Tusken tumbling rather gracelessly across the floor and wall of the gravitationally tilted battle zone. At least he had not tumbled into the hole below and had somehow managed to roll over the top of a sparking electrical conduit without getting zapped. The singed smell of his rough home-spun garb permeating the air, a telltale sign of how close a call that had been. Rolling to a stop, his once-shoulder slung primitive slug thrower having slid down to near his elbow, the only thing that kept him from landing completely on his back, Rruror’rur’rr attempted to stand, only at that point realizing that the small harmless looking item that the thing before him was wielding may have left a mark or two. The small technologically enhanced blade having wrought a gaping wound in his thigh that was even now beginning to ooze with blood and fluids; with any hope, the lack of actively spurting blood would mean that the scalpel had not done any imminently life-threatening damage. Gritting his teeth as blood began to soak through his finely sliced leg wrappings; he forced himself up as a cacophony of anger echoed through his mind and body. His ancestors would not stand for this. The abomination had shed the blood of one of their faithful and must now be put down. With his dress/kilt like covering obscuring any sign of his injury, save for the small slit where the scalpel had easily seared through, Rruror’rur’rr leaned against the bulkhead as best he could to take some pressure of the wound in his leg which was starting to send its cries of pain to the enraged mind of the desert nomad. Allowing his two-point rifle strap to slide the rest of the way down his arm and into his seasoned hands was second nature. Having been raised in a kill or be killed universe where most anyone who was not of his kind sought his immediate death, The Tusken was well versed in combat. Raising the rifle to his shoulder, Rruror’rur’rr had to take barely a second to aim down the scope as the stock of the rifle fell into its natural position taught against the robed man’s shoulder. His finger on the trigger, Rruror’rur’rr pulled the trigger. Once. Drop the bolt back and slam it forward. Again! Twice. Within mere seconds two cracks echoed up and down the mostly empty corridor, sending several of the rodents who had all but ignoring them up to this point scurrying for cover as their ears were assaulted by the ancient sounds of primer and powder acting in concert to hurtle. Two zersium coated rounds rocketed through the air, each one enveloped in a shroud of energy as it left the barrel of The Tusken’s aged but well maintained weapon. ((2))

There it was. That accursed abomination. A man of metal. Not even a man, a shadow of a man not worthy of even drawing true breath. Rruror’rur’rr had quickly found his prey as he had stalked down the hallway, carefully navigating the odd gravitational effects of the hulking wreckage being turned ever so slightly off angle. The droid seemed to be simply standing and waiting. It does not even know how to fight he smiled to himself beneath his mouthpiece, as he hefted his gaderffi in one hand and leapt forward with a bellowing Tusken war cry once he was within range of the abomination. With the skills and knowhow of a thousand ambushes, Rruror’rur’rr’s gaderffi was raised high as he leapt, both hands clutching the more spearlike end so that he could put all the force that he was able to into the blow; hoping to drive the spiked more club-like portion of the weapon deep into the mechanized demon’s chest. It was true that he did not know what lay beneath the droid in the tilted room that it was partially obscured in; but the Tusken was not worried. Anywhere the droid could be he could survive just as easily. Rruror’rur’rr hoped to use the full force of his momentum to drive his gaderffi into the droid, knocking it back and hopefully out. ((1))

((Pheristroch, I will use my first post to help set up some of the scene, feel free to add more to it in your post, and introduce Rruror’rur’rr. Feel free to follow with a set up post or to jump right into fighting with an attack of some sort. This will be a 3 round, plus intro, duel. After we finish our third posts, Jaina will rule on who the victor is. The winner will get to post the conclusion of the duel.)) LOCATION: Ruins of Ziost, specifically a floating hulk (core section) of the destroyed Death Star floating in orbit. The blinding rays of the nearest star found their ways through the numerous cracks and fissures that made up the floating hulk of what could only be a chunk of the innermost section core of the once infamously infallible Death Star. Somehow, in the destruction of the massive war machine, this piece had survived. Even more surprising was the fact that despite the air being thin, somewhere out of sight, at least one atmospheric convertor still churned away as it worked to provide life giving atmosphere to the section only to have it whisked away only a little slower than it could produce the air. The only reason that an organic being could survive aboard such a hulking piece of constructed debris were the numerous fires that flashed out from grates in the floors and walls of the desecrated hallway where an oddity now stood. A weak heat radiated throughout the structure that had now become a den to several dozen severely inbred rats that had taken to surviving by gnawing on exposed wiring and eating their fallen kin. Looking around, just inside this side of what could only be a strange amalgamation of death star leaked fluids, the cold of space, and ‘the force’ that formed the nearly invisible bubble that kept the blasted away opening of the walkway from being absorbed by the vacuum of space on the other side, stood a being that was completely out of place. Swathed from head to foot in sandy flowing robes and skin tight wrappings stood the being known as Rruror’rur’rr the feared Tusken Raider who had been abducted by demons and had lived to fight his way back to his ancestral homeland. Both blessed and cursed; blessed by the ancestors to have found a new mount after the death of his bantha; cursed by his own as his every step reeked of betrayal to their ancient and sacred oaths to their homeworld. He was led by the invisible voices of his ancestors. Following their bidding had taken him far and wide, most recently to this floating wreckage; a testament to the foolishness of the technology dependent demons who had once sought to rule his home. As the gravity generators somewhere in this section of the death star whined their lament of never-ending work to the soundlessness of space, the entire chunk of floating alloys, metals, and man-made blasphemy shifted ever so slightly. Technology continued to fail those who rely upon it he thought to himself as he steadied himself, with one foot on what had once been the well-polished walkway of the hallway he now stood at the end of, and his other foot braced against the wall, complete with its unevenness where electrical panels still occasionally sparked and trash chutes led to who knew where and hallways the may or may not jut off to space or other portions of the wreckage presented pitfalls of the bone-breaking variety. Through his reflective goggles, Rruror’rur’rr stared down the hallway. All that he could see were a few of the local rodents fighting over what could only be a bit of one of their deceased brethren. Slowly he exhaled and then drew in a breath of the stale weak air, allowing his mind to heed the call of his ancestors. They had brought him here, after all. Somewhere, the Tusken knew, within this hulking monument to the failure of the demons was yet another demon. A demon that he was destined to destroy. With his aged slugthrower slung across his shoulders and his bandolier neatly wrapped about his chest, he hefted his gaderffi from the loop it usually hung in, grasping it in both hands as he stalked forward in a low crouch. His ears were attuned to anything out of the ordinary as he reached out with all his senses to seek the demon aboard, awaiting the ancestors’ guidance as he moved forward silent step by silent step down the tilting hallway.