Groundhog's Day

[Muad Dib]

(OOC: it will take me a few posts to return. Most likely by sometime tonight. And my writing has quite a bit of rust on it, so bear with me as I get back into writing and return once more to my standard quality of writing)

Hell.

Hades.

Eternal damnation.

Purgatory.

There were many names in many religions for where the man called Muad Dib could be at.

It was all of them. And none of them.

One moment he was with his clan, Clan Farr, and then a bright flash and he was falling. For a long time.

When he collided with the ground he bounced and rolled a handful of meters before coming to rest on his back. He had just been about to go on an evening jog through the sand dunes so he had only been wearing his dark brown trousers. He knew that was still so as he felt the dry sand give beneath his bare back.

Rising up he leaned on one knee and twisted his head side to side, which made a loud popping sound, before opening his eyes to survey his surroundings. The identifiable and unique brightly glowing blue eyes peered into the morning dawn.

Sand. Sand as far as the eye could see. Sand the color of dried blood. A bemused grin crossed his face as he lightly shook his head which cast sand across his shoulders. Dunes rolled out as far as the eye could see. Nothing but a vast emptiness.

Reaching out in the force he frowned. There was nothing. A complete lack of the force. Not a block or a void but as if it didn't exist. The man idly scratched the stubble on his chin.

"Interesting."

Rising slowly he turned to look in every direction. Nothing had changed. No clue to his location or even how he had appeared here. Shrugging he glanced at the dawning sun and took know of it's red color. Neither the sun not the desert offered clues to his destination as there were countless worlds in the Galaxy that could match it's description. With a chuckle he wiped the bead of sweat trailing down his forehead. Then with a set to his jaw he began heading east.

Hours had passed and as the sun crept across the sky the man had grown curious. Not a single sign of life was to be had anywhere. The bleakness of the desert would have began to bother a normal man. But Muad was anything but normal. He found peace in the quiet. Solitude in the silence. An odd feeling for him to be sure.

After many more hours the sun began it's trek toward the other horizon. But as he crested an especially tall dune he saw a cluster of rocks in an odd formation nearby. With a wry grin up to the sky the man shrugged once more and began heading for the outcropping.

The sand slid beneath his feet, a small wave of cascading red sand following in his wake. Sweat glistened on his lean yet muscular body as he moved closer. Narrowed eyes peered at the formation recognizing in it a definite danger. Not in the rocks themselves but rather that it provided a natural shelter that concealed what could be anything within.

"This could be fun."

As he neared the entrance he paused. He sensed beings within. Not though the force but rather the instincts that are home and sharpened by a warrior. He was being watched. Walking nonchalantly he passed the threshold.

And that's where it got interesting.

Springing around him were eleven individuals with varying weapons. All seemed to be melee and all seemed to have seen regular and recent use. Chuckling low in his throat he turned with hands up. He scanned them looking for weaknesses, for strengths, for the strong, and for the week. One of the figures spoke harshly, "We should kill him, we don't know who he is or what he is. Look at his eyes."

Chuckling again Muad waited for their decision. He was ready for some blood shed to break the monotony. "Very well Zeke."

And then the dance began.

Four charged with spears. It was easy enough to step into the first to arrive's guard, deliver a headbutt to the face hidden beneath a hood, grab the spear, and twist disarming the opponent. A swift jab to the face ended the man's cry in mid scream. The other three closed in and Muad danced around, spinning the spear and deflecting strikes just to return the attacks with sure, deft thrusts.

Seconds later in was over.

Muad stood still, the spear in his right hand hanging loosely as he surveyed the death with amusement. The other seven had stepped back. Turning in slow circles Muad glanced one to another awaiting the next attack. The sunlight glinted off the wet blood covering his forearms and chest.

"Is that it? Are we friends now?"

The mad man grinned as another called out an unintelligible command. More, many more, rose from clefts in the rocks or from the desert floor where they had hid. Chuckling Muad spun the spear expertly until they raised bows with arrows cocked. Muad laughed as two dozen arrows were released and were buried in his flesh.

Laying upon the sand he laughed, choking on blood as his lungs filled with the liquid drowning him. As his eyes dimmed and he stopped breathing he had a grin stretched across blood stained lips.

And he fell. For a long time. Finally he collided and rolled several meters before coming to a stop on the blood red sand. Opening his glowing eyes he peered up into the sky and watched the sun rising over the horizon. With a bark of laughter his head fell back to the sand as the morning air was filled with his mirth.

Rising to his feet he brushed callused fingers over his bare torso gingerly. The wounds that had fatally wounded him were nowhere to be found. Furrowing his brows he dropped his hands to his sides and looked to the east. The terrain was exactly the same. Even down to the imprint of his rolling body.

"Interesting."

Stretching lightly for a few minutes he glanced at the direction he had went... yesterday, today, tomorrow? Shrugging he broke of into a jog heading in the same direction. Sweat dropped from his body at his exertion in the heat. The sun cast it's withering gaze upon his half naked form as his long strides ate the distance.

Cresting the hill he looked down upon the rock outcropping sitting just as it had before. Pausing he dropped to a knee and watched for several minutes before shrugging and breaking into a lazy lope to the entrance.

Passing through he paused, waiting for what had occurred before. Immediately eleven forms surrounded him, a healthy distance between him and they. Muad chuckled. Stepping forward the massive form pulled back the hood. "You foolishly come back again? Do you expect a different outcome?"

"Always mate, always."

With a snarl Muad leapt forward and attacked the man wrestling the short sword from his hands and spinning to deflect nine weapons swung at his undefended back. Weaving between attacks and dodging blows he quickly and ruthlessly cut the nine down, spilling their blood upon the sand. Turning he placed the tip of the sword against the man's throat as he watched the multitude or archers rise and aim.

"You kill me, he dies first."

Apparently they didn't care because he fell under a swarm of arrows with one embedded in his eye socket.

And he fell. Again. For a long time. Again. He bounced across the sand until he laid upon his back again. Laying there he waited as the sun began to rise. He waited as the sweat poured from his body. He waited until he felt the heat from the sun's kiss waning. He waited until the last rays of the sun faded from his eyes.

Pushing himself up he dusted off his body and looked around in the twilight. Everything was the same. Exactly the same.

"Bloody hell."

 

[Muad Dib]

Pushing himself to his feet the man looked around. The night sky was still red, just a deeper shade. Wind blew along the dunes casting sand spray in its wake. Thinking thoughtfully the mad knight thought about his predicament. He was caught in some kind of loop in a desolate wasteland cut off from the force. He had died now, twice, and each time had crashed into the desert in the same place and in the same way.

Slowly he headed back east headed for the distant rock formation nestled deeper in the wasteland. As he walked he thought about where he was prior to his entrance into this world. He was death. From a babe he was trained as a weapon and as an adult he had continued his tutelage. He enjoyed the madness and insanity that was birthed on the battlefield. It was the only place he could truly feel himself. But over the years he had changed. He had become mando. He had evolved from the Mad Knight of the Sith to the Mad Knight of Manda’yaim. And he had friends.

He chuckled as he topped the tall dune and squatted to view the rocks below. But now he was here, where ever here was, alone and without his armor or weapons. He was even devoid of the force. The puzzlement was etched on his face as he turned at a disturbance on the horizon. The dawn was coming but so too was a shimmering haze that was swiftly sweeping across the landscape. Watching the curtain sweep closer he arched an eyebrow and felt it wash over him, through him, and continue on its way. Turning he watched it speed out of sight. Another mystery in this foreign land.

As he watched several specks ran across the desert headed for the formation. As they neared he recognized one as the giant man he had killed the day before. Studying them as they closed upon the rocks he squinted nearly closing his glowing, blue eyes wondering just how he was going to get answers to his current predicament.

Sitting down on the top of the dune he crossed his legs and sat. Watching the formation below he saw flickers of movement spied from within the shadows cast by the towers of stone. Glancing behind him Muad was somewhat surprised to see that his voyage across the sand had been completely erased. Not by the shifting of sands that occurred naturally but rather as if he had never crossed this way before. Another fact to log for later questions.

As he turned his attention back to the rocks before him he noticed a single figure in the distance making the long trek to the safety of the stones. Tensing Muad prepared to rise and meet the figure before he reached the formation. But what he saw on the horizon gave him pause. Trailing after the lone sojourner was a group of figures following. Muad had counted those that returned and the lone traveler was the last of those the mad knight had killed. So who was tracking the figure. Sighing Muad decided to wait and see just what this new development meant in this strange new world.



The figure had entered the rocks. As the glowing blue gaze watched as the swarm, for surely that is what it looked like, surrounded the stone outcropping. The figures were black and insectoid. Standing two meters tall on two legs, each had four arms with pincers on the top set of arms and what looked like tapered spikes on the middle set of appendages. Their heads were round with antennae sticking out from either side. Mouths clicked audibly even from over the distance. Pushing to a knee Muad watched with interest as a humanoid figure stepped to the front of the group. It was a male who was heavily muscled a deep crimson hue standing in a loincloth and holding a great broadsword easily in one hand. With a shout he called out to those hidden within the rocks. “Surrender and your lives with be as slaves. Resist and die, and on your next incarnation you shall face the torturer’s rack for all eternity. We know where you arrive and already we have guards posted to capture you. Choose your damnation. For that will be the best opportunity you will ever have.” The man stepped back into the swarm and quickly vanished from sight.

“Even more interesting. I’m shaking with anticipation.”

Muad chuckled quietly to himself as he waited. The sun rose high into the sky and still the rock formation was quiet. The insectoids stood still as if they had been carved from the very rock they were watching. The air was pregnant with energy as he felt the silent gravity of the situation. He may not understand the rules of this new land but he certainly knew evil when he saw it, even without the force.

Silently he watched as the sun dropped beneath the dunes and night fell. There was no moon or stars but the night sky was illuminated by slow tendrils of light that brightened the landscape. As he watched Muad realized he had neither eaten nor drank anything in his time here. Nor was he hungry or thirsty. The rules in this plane confounded him and brought a frown to his face. As the hours passed he turn his head slightly and watched the glow of the morning dawn. As the sun crested so too did the shimmering wave that washed over the wasteland. Watching its pass he noticed that everything was cleansed of the previous day. Even the marks made from the insectoids passing through were washed away. But still they stood silent and unmoving.

An hour into the new day the first change occurred. The antennae began waving first and then moments later twenty of the insectoids swarmed toward the opening. As they closed within a few meters a volley of arrows washed out and struck them doing killing them all. Muad winced slightly as he felt some momentary compassion as he very well knew what that felt like. The giant man strode forward and shouted at the rocks. “For choosing to rebel against a merciful offer I shall see you tortured and defiled for all eternity. Every subsequent incarnation shall see new tortures visited upon you. And I shall feast on your flesh every day. I shall gnaw on your bones. I shall visit upon you horrors you cannot even imagine.” Pausing he swung the massive broadsword a few times, the light reflecting off its length. “And the children you have born here, they will receive my own personal attention. They will be my playthings .And I shall introduce them to their first deaths in new and depraved ways. They shall curse your name for bringing them into this world. And a hundred years from now it will be at their hands that you will feel the most agony.”

When he finished speaking a wave of arrows lashed out but fell twenty meters short. Muad shook his head at the waste of resources just because they had given in to their anger. Anger is a great motivator, but not at the loss of resources that couldn’t be replenished. After the speech Muad decided he disliked the giant more than those who had killed twice already. And then the battle began. The insectoids spread out and ringed the rock formation and at a silent command they attacked at once. The giant stood with a guard of four insectoids as arrows flew and the drones fell. But they had reached the base of the rocks and had begun to climb over. Soon the drones would flood over the rock walls and the inhabitants would be overwhelmed.

“Bored now. Time for some fun.”

Rising he began walking down the slope to not create a wash of sand. Upon reaching the packed sand of the plain Muad began running. This is what he lived for... Running into battle with a grin on his face and blue eyes glowing with excitement. The man heard the near silent patter of Muad’s feet just as he was upon him and the Mad Knight leapt spearing him in the back and dropping them to the ground to roll into the insectoid guards. The broadsword had went spinning and Muad dove for it, grabbing the wrapped handle with both hands and spinning to cleave two of the insectoids in twane. Rising he raised the sword above his head in a two handed grip as the last two guards swarmed forward. Laughing he spun to the right and released his hold with his left hand swinging the sword horizontally and decapitating the closest guard. Continuing the spin he deflected the strikes from the middle arms of the last guard and flipped the sword up to grip in both hands to bring down and cut the last insectoid in half.

The red giant stood slowly, the sand falling from his body. The muscles rippled as if the skin couldn’t contain them. Behind him the insectoids had stopped as they had stopped receiving instruction. The inhabitants were quickly dispatching the drones but at the entrance stood Zeke and the woman who had stood with him. They watched the confrontation between Muad and the giant.

“You are new to this plane. You will soon feel the touch of my blade. You will scream for mercy as I peel your skin. You will beg for death. And I will not give it to you. But when I do grant you death your next incarnation will wish for the end of your existence, the end of everything. But you are here, in my realm. You will nourish me forever. Your deaths will especially be pleasing Muad Dib, for you have nourished my brother enough. You are mine now, mad knight, mine alone. You belong to Hod Ha’ran now.”

The giant had advanced while roaring out at Muad. But when he was finished the Mad Knight threw back his head and laughed. And laughed. And laughed. The battle behind was done and the survivors all watched in silence as this newcomer stood toe to toe and laughed at the giant. Wiping tears from his glowing blue eyes Muad looked at the flabbergasted giant.

“You talk too much.”

And with a swing of the broad sword he decapitated the giant.

 

[Muad Dib]

And so began his new life, so to speak.

He joined with the survivors and learned where he was. It was a different plane of existence or maybe a different dimension. There they lived and died in a countless number of days that was without end. It was hell, limbo, purgatory all rolled into one. Each had been plucked from the galaxy and brought there. To be tormented endlessly. Their deaths and pain fed the god that Muad had killed. Each being taken was captured with the intent of satisfying the appetite of the god. The insectoids were the god’s minions. After every day’s cycle the wasteland would be renewed. All those that had died were reborn in the same state they had arrived. For almost all of them the god knew where they arrived and so after each death at his hands they were recaptured immediately and brought back to the black keep to be tormented in his dungeons. For those caught it was an unending cycle of misery that there was no escape from.

So of course, Muad being Muad, he had to liberate as many as he could. Was it honor and decency that drove the Mad Knight? No. It was the need for battle. He fed his blood lust with the extermination of the insectoids and the occasional encounter with Hod Ha’ran. But as each day he survived he aged. Forty years. Forty years of fighting. Forty years of liberating prisoners. Forty years of creating a stronghold of free in the south. Forty years driving the survivors and former prisoners to safety took it’s toll.

Muad Dib, Mad Knight of Manda’yaim, Sith Knight, Monster, Killer, Warrior …. He grew old.

Nearly seventy years old.

Standing on a dune and looking north he chuckled slightly. He felt the icy hand of death nearby. The skin was dry and burnt nearly black by the unyielding red sun. The wind had scoured his skin. His hair hung about his waist, more white than any other shade. His full beard reached his chest. Scars upon scars crisscrossed his body from battles and fights his entire life. The pants and shirt had armor shewn into the fabric, the hard shell from fallen insectoid drones. He leaned on an old carved staff as gnarled as he was. But what had not changed was the brilliantly glowing blue eyes.

Chuckling to himself he glanced behind him at the sanctuary he had created. Once brought here they never left. He was the only one to know its location. And oddly enough, even though they aged here at a normal rate of speed, unless you died from unnatural causes, you didn’t die. Perhaps why he chuckled was because he knew that old Hod was weakening. Each soul he stole from the god was one less to feed him. One less to nourish him. And less power the god had. It had been over a decade since any more souls had been brought over. Muad was starving out the god. And he was having a hoot doing so.

At the beginning Muad arranged so that only he knew where the safe haven was to be. All the others knew was that it was to the south. That was because inevitably his soldiers would die and be collected on the morn when the day began anew. And if they didn’t know the location they couldn’t reveal it under days, weeks, or months of torture. But as the decades passed and Hod grew weaker he began pulling in his drones, watching fewer and fewer of the respawn points of his captives. Now Hod only waited at one respawn point. The dunes Muad Dib had rolled across those many many years ago.

Chuckling again he watched a figure climb the dune to stand by him. He knew the gait before he saw the face. Old Zeke. Standing together they looked north in a quiet comradery. They had fought together, reluctantly at first, and then with fervor. They had slaughtered the insectoids and freed many during their time together in the wastelands. He finally retired to the haven a dozen years back. Muad chuckled again.

“You don’t have to ask again. You know we must do this. Once more into the keep to free the last fifty slaves. And then Hod will have no power. No more lives to sustain him.”

Zeke shook his grizzled head. “You know it’s you he wants. He will let us take the prisoners just so he can throw his full force at you. To finally kill you. And yours is the only spot left under guard. He will finally have you, you blue eyed devil.” Zeke shook his head slowly and sadly. They had gone over the plans for the attack. They both knew the only way they would breach the keep this time was if Hod opened the gates to let out his drones to catch Muad. And Muad was the only one he wanted bad enough to do it for. All of them had begged him not to go, to stay in haven. To sacrifice the fifty. Even with fifty souls Hod simply didn’t have the strength to rally the insectoids to begin war. At the beginning he did. And he lost. Time and time again to the old mad man of the red desert. But Muad would not sit by as long as those others were imprisoned.

“I do not fear death. I never have. I do not fear torture or pain. And I shall not break you old goat. But still, you will take haven and move further south when the others return. You will travel so far that the keep will be but a distant memory. And do not return for me. We both know I’ll escape eventually and when I do I will head north. We will never see each other again after this night. It is good. It is good ner vod.”

Zeke shook his bald head and stood through the night next to the mad man he once hated but now loved. The savior of the wastelands. Despite Muad’s words he knew Hod would torture the blue eyed devil for all eternity. They both knew it. And they both knew it was a sacrifice they were willing to take. A sacrifice they were making.

The next morning Muad moved out headed north. Six days of travel until he came upon the scouts that were part of the war party that was waiting on the old mad man. Journeying half a day they met up with the war party and went over their plans. Then they headed north. Two weeks later they were at the water crests, the dunes north of the keep. There they made camp and waited for night to fall. For at that time the plan would begin to unfold.

That night the entire war party circled the keep and waited to the south of the gate until daybreak. The gates were closed but atop the wall stood Hod glowering down in silent rage. As evening neared Muad rose on stiff joints that creaked and popped. He tossed off the robes he wore and looked down upon his armament and nodded. He was ready. Pulling the great sword from it’s sheath he climbed the tallest water crest dune to stand atop it’s ridge and shouted to draw Hod’s attention. It didn’t take long.

The gates were raised and the insectoids streamed out heading up the water crest dunes to meet Muad in battle. As the last of the insectoids left the gate the war party entered. Battle sounds could be heard over the great distance. But the Mad Knight stood waiting for the encroaching drones. Just as they closed in he saw his war party escaping with the last of the prisoners. With a roar of laughter the old mad man leapt forward into the insectoids, the great broad sword twirling and spinning sending the drones to their deaths. But age has a way of catching up to you. Slowing through fatigue, wounded by cuts, stabs, bleeding from wounds, and the unrelenting assault of the drones was wearing down the old mad man. Dozens and dozens of insectoids lay dissected by the great sword and still they came. Finally the sword got stuck in the chest of a dead drone and as it fell away it was tore from his grasp. Another drove it’s middle spike into his side while yet another clamped its pincers to and through Muad’s calf severing muscles and tendons. Falling he pulled a knife and kept fighting, slicing, biting until the press of the insectoid’s bodies over whelmed him. A strike to his left temple gifted him unconsciousness.

Waking Muad raised his blood and sweat mated head. One eye was swollen shut but the other worked just fine. Hanging from wrists that were chained to the stone ceiling he swung lightly with labored breathing. He was completely naked and totally vulnerable. He laughed. Swaying side to side he finally saw Hod who slowly walked forward, the great sword finally returned to him after all these years. Standing close Hod smiled. “What do you have to say for yourself now Muad Dib?” Muad laughed and kneed Hod in the face breaking his nose. The sword cut him in half and even as his lower half hit the ground there was still a grin on his face.

And he was falling. For a long time. It was an experience he hadn’t felt for almost half a century. Hitting the ground he bounced and rolled several meters before laying on his back. He felt the vitality of youth in his veins and in his body. With a laugh he sat up to see hundreds of insectoids around him. He never saw the blow to the back of his head that knocked him unconscious.

The swaying woke him. He was hanging from his wrists again. Completely naked again. This time he had a great weight chained to his ankles. Tensing his legs he realized while it was heavy, it wasn’t that heavy. The room was empty save for him and his weight. A door across from him opened and in strode Hod with an evil grin upon his face. As he walked toward Muad he laughed. “Now do you understand? You are mine for all eternity. There is no escape. You are mi… oof”. Uad had swung his legs and cracked the weight into Hod’s midsection. The satisfying sound of bone crunching made the now young mad man laugh. He was still laughing as the great sword sliced him in two again.

And he was falling for a long time. Again. Bouncing across the sand he rose and charged the drones. But their numbers incapacitated him and soon he was unconscious … Again. He was hanging from the ceiling but this time his legs were chained and anchored to the floor. The door swung open and Hod stormed in to lean in and snarl at Muad inches from his face. “Do you not see your folly you insignifi… ARGGHHH!!!” Muad had jerked his head forward and latched onto Hod’s face ripping off his nose and part of his cheek. And there went the great sword again.

And falling and falling and boom to roll across the ground to be swarmed and beaten before he even stopped rolling. Hanging naked. In chains. Even before this it wasn’t a completely foreign concept. Even the gag around his mouth wasn’t completely new. Hod walked in staright for Muad and punched him right in the gut. Exhaling with a hiss Muad glared glowing daggers at Hod who stepped forward and laughed. “Now this isn’t going to go as you hope you … NOOOO!!!” Muad had decided to piss and he was angled just right to hit the angry god’s face. And chop chop went the broad sword.

And he was falling for a long time. Then he bounced across the desert. Some days he mnaged to kill a handful of insectoids. And some days he didn’t. After the pissing incident Muad always kept his pants on. But what the inevitable outcome that was anticipated had finally arrived. Day n and day out of torture. One day a skin peel slice by slice. The next day blinded and cut to ribbons. The next ripped apart by insectoids and their pincers. Another day whipped to death. Another day burned alive.

And the days turned to weeks. And the weeks turned to years. The years turned to decades.

A few times he managed to kill Hod, but each day afterwards illicited another horrifying torture session. Of course Muad never stopped. But as the years went by his mind fractured and shattered and he became more feral animal then man. The agony chipped away at who he was until he was nearly an animal.

After one particularly gruesome death at Muad’s hands … to speak because he drove his snapped forearm bone into the god’s jugular … Muad hung for days with no torture. Then Hod came in and slit his belly open and pulled out a strand of intestines. An insectoid pulled an inch of his guts out every hour. Muad was curious to see if he would die before all his intestines had been pulled from his body. He did, but just barely.

The years stretched into decades which stretched into centuries. Centuries of torment, torture, unending agony. But even after all that time not once did Muad reveal where the safe haven was, even though he knew it had been moved shortly after being captured. Now it was just a game, a way for Hod to entertain himself. And so he did.

How many times could a man die and not lose everything? How many years could he be tormented and not lose himself? How long could this go on for? The answer was eternity.

Another death, another long fall. Another fight with insectoids. And once again he was hanging. Hod came in swinging his longsword idly as he wandered around Muad while keeping his distance. “Today is a special day. Three hundred years you have been my prisoner, my plaything. Three hundred years I have owned you and killed you in ways too numerous to count. It will be a special day you will remember for another three hundred years.”

But as he spoke a light appeared which grew brighter and brighter. Muad had to turn his head because of the intense light and heat. Even Hod turned away. Then a pop and the light had vanished. There stood a massive mandalorian who waved a hand and sent Hod crashing to the far wall where he slid down in a slump on his butt. The mandalorian walked over to Muad who was now snarling trying to get at the newcomer. “Cuyir su ner adiik.” The Mad Knight slowed as he watched the massive mando cautiously.

“Brother I claim what is mine. And you shall fade once again.” A wave of his hand and Hod disappeared in a flash and a scream. Walking back to Muad the massive mando nodded the enormous head. “Ni kar’tayl gai sa’ad, Muad Dib. Oyacyir akaanir ti ijaat.” The massive mando aimd his hands at Muad and a flash of light hit him which felt like it was melting his skin, scorching his flesh, devouring his bones until there was nothing left.

Then he was falling. For a long time. Until he hit the ground and rolled to a stop on his back. Black ash covered his body and wafted on the breeze above him. Stars twinkled in the sky through a haze of dust and clouds.

And Muad slept.

(“Cuyir su ner adiik.” = “Be still my child”)
(“Ni kar’tayl gai sa’ad, Muad Dib. Oyacyir akaanir ti ijaat.” = “I know your name as my child, Muad Dib. Live, fight with honor.”)

 

[Arabella Darkhold]

There was something of a disturbance in her sleep dreams that did not feel like her own haunting her she reached out only to find her hands filled with air. She turned over her eyes fluttering open as she brought herself awake.

Slowly she pushed up looking around the room. This was the house on Vena yes, not quite finished but it was here. Her cobalt blue eyes scanned around as her senses stretched out there was nothing wrong everything was peaceful. Bella dropped back on her bed staring at the ceiling.

What are you trying to tell me? She asked knowing that the answer would only come when it was time. She sighed heavily and thought about a cup of tea. Maybe it would help her to fall back to sleep but then sleep was elusive maybe she shouldn't.

Rolling to her side she looked at the holo of a day on Tatooine which seemed a lifetime ago. It was really. She snuggled down into the blanket her mind trying to make sense of the dreams.

[member="Muad Dib"]

 

[Muad Dib]

The body lay unmoving upon the hard ground. Ash had covered it like a blanket covering a newborn. Gently black and grey flakes drifted on the wind and settled softly on the body. The faint rise and fall of the torso revealed the being yet drew breath. Lightening forked across the sky, a sign of the impending storm soon to sweep across the land. But for now the wind blew in a mild manner that belied the intensity to come.

The stirring of the mound came as the man pulled his arms beneath his chest and pushed up. Ash poured from his back as he rose, a phoenix from the proverbial ashes. His skin was stained, hair darkened under the grit. But glowing blue eyes peered out radiating an animalistic rage. Turning the man crouched, his once brown trousers soot blackened. Hands clenched and unclenched as a low growl emulated from deep in his chest.

The land was recognizable, just as foreign to him as he was to the land after all this time. Rising once more he trotted off for a structure that was the only thing left standing in the area. The ravaged walls of the coliseum the man had once chose as his home. Both his home and once the home of his clan, Clan Farr. But that was a different time, before his disappearance and before the ruin of Manda’yaim.

Nearing the broken columns that had once stood tall and proud, pillars to be built on, he slowed. Flashes of memories scattered across the man’s mind. A time of war, a time of peace, a time of brotherhood. It was a mirage, a twisted dream that one cannot quite grasp … always just out of reach of remembrance. And yet a familiarity reached a part of the man, the part that was still man. A snarl interrupted his internal struggle as movement caught from the corner of the glowing eyes sent him snarling forward in attack. But it was merely the incensed wind toppling a rock perched precariously on a ledge.

Turning once more he watched the flashes illuminating the night sky with tendrils of blue fire. Unconsciously a twitch slightly curled the left side of his hard lips.

 

[Tayise Betna]

Mandalore was recovering, but it was a slow process. Piece by piece, tree by tree it regrew; renewed. It was nudged along here and there by individuals and groups, sometimes entire clans, but like any massive project it was a crawling pace rather than a sprint to the finish line. Rivers dried out, forests turned to ash, and fields were whipped about by storms of dust and wind. Atop mountains the snow piled up and threatened the dry valleys below with avalanches and flash floods. Thunder and lightning were a fairly common occurrence now, though rain was sparse and scattered at best. Manda'yaim seemed dead and barren, a shell of a world that had once been alive and vibrant.

For most, it would have marked the end of days and a migration of the population to better, brighter horizons. For the Mandalorians, it remained home.

Some had left, but they would return in time. Most scratched out a living in whatever way they could. Wells were dug deeper, food and water rationed, and entire clans had laid down the plow to take up the blade to survive. For the Betna clan, this was a simple choice. Most farms had withered and died out, the farmers seeking work as warriors off world. Some stayed and eked out an existence out of stubbornness. For the most part, though, most of the clan had turned to raiding, something that had become a key lifeline for many. Tayise herself had lead raids and warriors, finding victory and failure alike among the stars. She'd returned home both empty handed and laden with supplies, valuables, and credits on different forays into the galaxy. It was a living. A way of life. A path born of necessity, yet sustained by tradition and practicality.

Between raids, however, she wandered. She sought paths seldom trod and trails unknown to any but to wild game. Sometimes, she walked along dry riverbanks, seeking whatever might be found among the drying mud and dirt. Other times, like today, she rode among the ash and dust and sand atop a Napna Vornskr with the wind at her back and wanderlust in her heart.

She'd not ridden this far out before, at least not in this particular direction. She knew where she was for the most part in relation to home and she knew that there was another clan holding nearby. It was abandoned as far as she knew, the clan itself scattering to the winds less out of desire and more based on necessity. Encroaching sands and dry soil was the bane of agriculture the galaxy over and while she knew the clan still existed, albeit greatly weakened and scattered, the holdings themselves were abandoned. This alone piqued her curiosity for even that which as been lost to nature might still yield answers to questions yet asked.

The trick was to know what questions to ask.

She found herself atop a dune, the sand shifting under her mount's feet as the wind blew. She wore her armor, though her helmet sat clipped to her belt. Instead, she wore a length of fabric wrapped tightly about her head while tinted goggled protected her eyes from sun and grit. Holstered on her saddle sat her submachinegun while a simple beskad hung from her belt. Tayise gripped the vornskyr's reins and adjusted the inactive dinu'ul on her vambrace before nudging the creature into a slow walk. Below stood the remains of an old coliseum, weathered and beaten down by the harsh climate. It seemed worthless and barren, but for her it was a curiosity. In the end, it couldn't hurt to investigate a little...

 

[Arabella Darkhold]

Bella could not sleep there was too much pushing her to be awake to be aware. She pushed the covers off the darkness was comfortable but not when voices whispered continually.

She swung her feet over the edge of the bed the warmth slowly seeping away as they touched the cool tiles. She stood and slowly walked across the floor to the balcony out here where she could feel the force stronger she stood silent trying to wake up and concentrate. She looked deep inside herself what was wrong....her breathing slowed as her body relaxed she looked to feel the force.

She found something else it had been sleeping for so long that she had forgotten that sensation, her bond with [member="Muad Dib"] vibrating. Bella's eyes flew open she did not know how to react. happy? curious? confused?

But where was he the last place they were to go was to the home he created among the Mandalorians before he disappeared. He said he was comfortable there more himself so that would be where she started.

Her infiltrator had arrived a few weeks ago cleaned from the damage done on Atrisia to the intakes, the engine cleaned and put through its paces. It was ready...was she? How would she explain her disappearing?

Shaking her head she moved back inside it was too early to wake the two staff that she had brought on board. no she would have to do some of this herself.

 

[Muad Dib]

[member="Arabella Darkhold"] [member="Tayise Betna"]


Lightning forked through the ash laden sky. A deslolation had settled here on his home. But the man with the glowing eyes didn't see devastation and ruin, but rather a homecoming. The part of him that was still human felt a stirring in his chest that some would interpet as relief. But the emotion bordered more along a resonance that spoke to him of a time, ages ago it seemed, where he was more vod then madman. But centuries of torment and torture and changed him more then he would admit. Before he was a mad man, a whirlwind of concentrated chaos and destrustion. But now he was a malestrom of unfocused and unbridled animalistic passion. The decades of agony had chipped away at the civilized Mad Knight, as civilized as he could potentially be called.

Smirking he climbed one of the pillars feeling the raw strength of youth flooding in his veins. His heart pounded with the exertion. Sweat ran from his face instantly being cated with the grey ash. Rising to his full height he surveyed the rubble that had once been home. A roar filled the darkened sky as he threw his head back and challeneged the world. Or perhaps it was just a call of declaration heralding his return. Dropping his eyes he surveyed the landscape as he felt a familiar sensation rushing through his body.

The Force.

A hard smile twisted his visage as he reached out and pulled the Force to him like an old lover in an all enveloping embrace. That was when he felt it, the old connection forged from choices, experience, and kindred spirits. The bond reverberated within him as he closed his eyes and focused on the person star systems and parsecs away.

"Arabella."

The name was whispered gutterally from a voice unused to forming words. Roars, screams, growls. That was what he had uttered for a centruy. But he felt the connection. It was there. But he sensed something else along the thread. Longing, loss, a feeling of change. He opened his glowing eyes and furrowed his brow. Things had changed, as surely as the home on Manda'yaim had changed. Change was inevitable. But it's meaning was unclear.

Turning slightly he watched as a figure crested a dune and paused looking upon the ruins of his home. A low growl thrummed in his chest as the mad man watched and waited as the being neared. This was his home, despite his absence. He would wait and greet this vistor. And time would tell what the mad man would say or do.

He grinned with excitement.

 

[Muad Dib]

As minutes passed into hours the Mad Knight watched as the other figure passed along. He grunted lightly as he leapt to the sands and turned away from the retreating figure to enter what had once been his home.

Passing into the ruins of the coliseum he passed through the empty rooms and went deeper I to the underground tunnels. Pausing he looked at the great room at the end of the hall. It had been stripped of it's weaponry. Bare and stark it was a reminder that time indeed never stands still.

But it wasn't completely empty.

On the back wall was a chest, simple wood and banded with steel, yet at the sight it made Muad grin. Approaching the chest he slowly raised the lid and looked inside. Black armor sat staring back at him adorned with the miscellaneous weaponry the man had carried. Softly, almost gently, he lifted the force imbued curved blade made from Mythosaur bone and slid it from its sheath.

Staring at the kal made Muad realize two things. One was that no matter what had passed he was still here just as the blade. Neither time nor distance could dull either of them. And just as the blade ached to be used so too did Muad wish to return to use. The second thing the blade whispered to him was that there was a time and place for everything. A season for everything. And his season had not ended just yet.

Collecting his gear he moved to one of the fresher units and cleaned before strapping on his armor and weapons. Looking into a fractured reflection he paused. He, along with his reflection, was fractured. It was time to return to the world of the living and face himself and who, and what, he was and had become.

With a final look he left the ruins and moved out from the home he had built, trekking across the sands.