Private To Be, or Not To Be (Talky talky or stabby stabby)

[Muad Dib]

"Some say the world will end in fire …"

A planet tearing herself apart due to the actions of those bearing her name. Her very own children. Mando'ade. It wasn't the first time they had struck at their buir and watched the acid tears fall from her face to mar herself because of the lust of the vode.

"Some say in ice …"

Rage that roared with such intensity. Yet it wasn't the passionate surrender to emotions stirred by the heart. It wasn't the heat of love that drove the rage but, instead, the freezing chill of hate that sent the rounds through a loved one just to get to the enemy.

"From what I've tasted of desire …"

His first love was to Chaos. And for so long he denied the deeper desires of his heart and soul. Until cin vhetin gave him another chance. A chance to come to terms with the duality of his very nature and the fact that he may have been soulless but he possessed a runi.

He was part of an Aliit made up of vode that accepted him with all his flaws. And as part of a group of friends he grew from the Mad Knight of the Sith into Muad Dib, a mandalorian. A home, a family, all offered with his new beginning.

And it was there he found the desire for life. Passion.

He found his love, separated by centuries and dimensions yet both thrust into the exact same impossibility. His brother, his uncle. His Clan. Ad’ika then ade. He felt the fire burn in his veins, passion for life disconnected to his bloodthirsty demons. He found his desire to want something that would belong to him.

“I hold with those that favor fire …”

The fire of passion and desire to live coursed through him. He had a home, Manda’yaim. He became alor of Clan Farr and the head of House Dib. He found brothers and sisters within the vode and outside the mando’ade. He followed the familial bonds to Atrisia, Alderaan, and Siskeen.

With every passing moment his path became clearer and his circle of family responsibility grew. And he did not complain. For to dance too close to the fire was to know you yet still breathed.

And then his world was turned upside down, his family pulled apart, his world desecrated, and even those he called ally, friend, and vod betrayed what it was to be mando’ad. To have honor. To be buir, vod, ba’buir. To be alor.

And with these actions the man knew the ‘second death’ loomed in the future.

“But if it had to perish twice …”

He looked through the transparisteel canopy before him. Silently he stood between the pilot and co-pilot seats. Both chairs were inhabited by vode of Clan Farr and their matte black beskar’kandar matched the ne’tra hue of their alor’s beskar’gam. For justice. His people had little enough of justice recently.

Ahead the planet and moons grew and their destination became visible even without magnification. Fortress Imperious. The military base was massive which allowed those in orbit, or nearby space, to spy the emplacement with ease. A blemish upon a world that once housed countless mando’ade and their aliit and clans over the generations. The madman could only assume that even those that stood upon Manda’yaim could look upon and see the fortress as a sign of a new era. And a warning to those who were either unable or incapable to read the proverbial writing upon the walls.

Behind him the giant shook his head silently at the echoes in the force. The Force was stained to those intimately tied to the planet, as the giant was. The madman only turned back to the view as they approached. Weapons were not just offline but removed and their shield generators were offline.

Hopefully their intent would not be ignored. It would be a sad ending to have his atoms scattered unceremoniously across hostile space without having offered resistance.

“I think I know enough of hate …”

A cold, grim smile creased his lips. Long had he heard that the enemy of my enemy was my friend. But in truth, the madman had never crossed blades with the Sith of the Sith Empire. So, in essence, they were not technically his enemy. But the saying still bore merit. They potentially could share the same enemy and, thus, align themselves to one another. Not through the burning flames of passion but the burning cold of hatred.

His mind flashed to reports and footage, testimonies of those he personally trusted, of the atrocious acts perpetrated on their own people in the name of victory. Friends that once proudly stood with both men as vode, now driven to disgust and hate. Lines in the sand already drawn. The shuttle grew nearer and the man nodded for the comm to be opened.

“To say that for destruction ice Is also great …”

“This is Muad Dib. Requesting an audience to discuss terms between my people … and yours.”

The channel was closed and a frown pulled the corners of his lips down amidst the unshaven face. The Mad Knight of the Sith had died that day on Manda’yaim, a death of fire that gave birth to passion. This path led to a confrontation, to certain destruction. This path of icy hate would spell the inevitable end to one, if not both. The price was high.

Uneasy is the head that wears a crown. But the necessary choice would be made despite the cost.

“And would suffice …”

Lirka Ka

 

[Lirka Ka]

The comm station was quickly amuck with activity, it was a rare thing for a visitor to appear above Moridinae: and the immediate thought was that another battle was about to begin, fighters were scattered and deep space scans began on loop: hunting out for some sort of mighty warfleet pieced together from the remnants of the Mandalorians. A sigh of relief filled the room when no such thing appeared and instead there was only the words of Muad Dib

It was a new anxiety instead, for they now risked the merciless wrath of Grand Moff Lirka Ka, the Desecrator of Mandalore.

The pause lasted a good handful of minutes before the man was given a response from an obviously nervous Imperial technician, fiddling with his collar while he spoke, they all feared the wrath of the psuedo-Empress of the Imperial Borderlands. She tolerated not weakness nor stupidity, and if you had both in abundance? You were good as dead.

"Her Excellency will see you now, land at Docking Pad A"

A handful of Sith-Imperial fighters came to escort the man's freighter down to the mighty blemish that was Fortress Imperious: a cadre of over a dozen black armored soldiers, clad so as to seem as bizarre imperial bastardizations of Mandalorian Armor, was what greeted Muad, blasters armed and ready in the attempt the man tried anything: little time was wasted, they spun on their heels and moved to Lirka's throne room.

It was a vast hall, clad in bizarre alien tapestries and imperial iconography all the same: but all was drawn to the end of the chamber, for that was where a throne of dark metal laid, bedecked with warped and broken bones from the many slaughtered on Moridinae's surface as Lirka's eternal reminder of her dark deeds. Lirka of course sat in it, a baroque suit of armor just as dark as the seat she sat in, a handful of horns angrily pointing to the sky. Two glowing eyes like emeralds acknowledged the Mandalorian man, her helmet relayed no emotions, but just this once the disgust she felt for all Mandalorians was allowed to show.

"You are bold, Barbarian. We shall see if you are stupid as well."

The voice that came from the helmet was heavily distorted, but it did nothing to hide her mocking tone.

 

[Muad Dib]

The giant mando stood on the ramp and watched as Muad followed the honor guard from the landing pad. Muad didn’t need to turn and look to sense the different emotions conveyed upon his the elder's face. Australis and Mandalorian, two parts of whom Abel was warred within him. And the giant had yet to define himself fully between the specter of his past and the vision of the present. A conundrum Muad once faced, but with little trepidation.

Because the madman was more than the sum of his experiences.

A brisk stroll led to the large antechamber in which a being rested upon a throne of unique materials at the far end. The guards paused to leave him to finish his journey alone. However, he could still feel their eyes upon him as he closed the distance between himself and the Grand Moff. Her words escaped almost like a hollow rasp in the near empty room, echoes that grew in depth almost gave her an omniscience.

The disdain in her voice escaped along with her words, leaving a certain vacuum of expectation to answer. He continued forward until he was near the throne, clearly not pausing at a respectful distance. Not that he sought to be blatantly disrespectful but instead to not have to raise his voice to be heard. The blue eyes glowed as he wryly grinned at the composition of her throne.

“Bold? Aye, I’ve been called this once or twice. Stupid? Elek, that too. Maybe I merely wished to see how your recovery progressed after your injuries to Kaine Australis. I’ve got to hand it to you, it was an impressive feat to watch.”

Double innuendos made him smirk as it did this time. Yet he let the jovial expression ease away as he squatted to look more closely at the mando’ade remains infused in the throne. Unlike with countless worlds and cultures that would have readily paled at the sight of their fallen being desecrated in such a manner, Muad shrugged and stood with a slight shake of his head.

“Their runi went to the manda. These bones shouldn’t raise the dander of a mandalorian who knows this. The body is just a tool of the verd, nothing more. As for the intelligence of being mando’ad and making an audience with the Grand Moff overseeing Manda’yaim, the folly or wisdom of my endeavor shall be decided shortly.”

Again he motioned to the remains of the fallen mando’ade.

“There’s something that people just don’t quite grasp. Being a mandalorian isn’t about what species you are or who’s blood runs through your veins. It’s not about genocide. It’s not about extinction. It’s a choice and lifestyle. And as long as a single mando lives by the resol’nare, Manda’yaim lives. Our people live. And no matter what is done to the masses in former mando space, my people will survive, live, and thrive.”

Absently he picked at a chip of paint upon his breastplate that flaked away.

“Unlike many of the mando’ade, I can see why the Sith acted as they did. I can see the reasoning. And I can see a certain alliance through a pact that can be forged in this parlay. You see, I want my territories back. For my House, my aliit, and my clan. I want to find common ground to fulfill this potential reality. And unless I’m wrong, I believe the fight I recently watched you partake in may be the answer.”

His eyes finally turned to the helm of the woman seated upon the raised dais.

“Kaine Australis. He and the active threat of his terrorist group. Imagine having a clan on Manda’yaim who didn’t cry despoilers with every breath. Imagine having mandalorians who follow the resol’nare side with you, instead of against you. And imagine having the blade of Muad Dib ready to stand by your side in the hunt for Kaine.”

He shrugged with a smirk.

“Or I could be completely wrong. In which case it might seem that I may add a few centimeters to the base of your throne. After all, it looks as though the right side is just a wee bit lower than the left side. And if I’m being honest, that is beginning to bother me. Doesn’t that feel a hair off kilter? Don’t you feel yourself beginning to slowly slip in that direction?”

Lirka Ka

 

[Lirka Ka]

Both. He was most definitely bold and stupid, but Lirka had some modicum of respect for those traits: they made for useful servants, and the Sephi needed those in abundance these days; Lirka had enumerable plans and schemes that grew in complexity, depth, and illegality with each passing day. In truth, this man's very presence was likely in violation of some diplomacy ruling: not like Lirka cared.

A crude and distorted snort came from the helmet when he mentioned her "injuries", must've been the metal monster's excuse of a laugh.

"Injuries? You're showing the crudeness of mortality, they were not injuries: they were a catalyst, a catalyst for my metamorphosis. Australis may believe he has won, but understand this well Barbarian: he has unleashed a creature beyond his wildest nightmares."

She remained silent after the fact, listening to what the man had to say. It was interesting, and something she did understand: of course, Lirka was a being arrogant enough to believe that given enough time and resources she absolutely could wipe the Mandalorians from the face of the Galaxy, damn Sephi. But, when Muad Dib gave his proposal the goliath leaned forward in her seat, now that, that had peaked her interest.

"Most interesting, most interesting indeed."

She paused for a moment, pondering and returning to the position she had been in prior. Yes. This would work nicely.

"I accept your proposal, I shall give you and your people a place on Moridinae to call your own once more, but on one condition: you shall swear fealty to me."

Lirka was always quite the power-hungry little monster, and now it was time to make another of her "famous" plays

 

[Muad Dib]

And there it was. The desire she wished. His fealty. His sworn obeisance. Him on his knees to call her his master. Something the man had never done in all his years, in this dimension and the one that came before. Not the Sith, nor the Silver Jedi. Not Ra, Munin, Gilamar, Ijaat, or Mia as Mand’alor. Not the Vicelord Darth Metus. Never before had he grovelled for what he sought. Ever had he merely taken that which he had desired.

His cold, glowing blue eyes stared up at the Grand Moff, this Lirka, and contemplated if he could do so again. The gauntlet of his right hand opened and closed, his fingers aching to grip a weapon and show this being the folly of her mistake. To think him unable to take what he wanted. A cold smile stretched upon his face as he felt the force answer his inquisition. If he was prepared to snatch reward from the corpse of the one who reclined before him.

For long seconds he felt his body tense as he almost pulled the force to him in readiness of warfare, that ever so beautiful dance that led to death. But instead he relaxed and allowed his fingers to unclench. Today was not about Muad Dib. It was about his allit, his Clan, his House. It was about the future of his people and those who fell under the umbrella of his authority and protection.

No, he had not come here as merely a man with desires of only a sole being. The future of his people rested upon him navigating the dangers this moment was fraught with. Whether he believed he could or couldn’t succeed was of little importance. What was of the utmost end was to secure the very thing he sought. A home. An alliance of sorts. A future.

The only question was what would he be willing to do to attain it.

A wry grin crossed his face as he reached into one of the pockets of his kama and removed a pack of deathsticks. Flippantly he tossed one between his lips and inhaled as the end flared to life. Blue smoke was exhaled in a sigh as he arched a brow at the woman seated upon the raised dais.

“Fealty? Not in my vocabulary darlin’. I don’t bow. But neither do I break. Not my resolve nor a sworn promise. I know you have two enemies that you wish to crush beneath your heel. Bones you wish to add to your throne and raise your status higher and higher. Your reputation speaks of one who wants more. More power. More authority. Just … more. I can’t and won’t swear blind loyalty to you. I’m not made that way. But what I can offer you may be even more worth to you.”

Stepping even closer he bent and flicked the ash from his deathstick into one of the skulls used in the construction of her throne before straightening.

“The Agents of Chaos and the terrorist known as Kaine Australis, along with his terrorist cell. You want to grind them to dust. You want power that’s yours and yours alone. I can give you that. Enough mandalorians have turned on me and mine. They are fair game. Jedi? Sith? I care little for dogma and their flawed philosophy. You want me to kill jedi? You want me to kill sith? Done. You want someone who has no qualms about butchering the enemy? Done. You want a madman to rush forward in the maelstrom or a hidden blade in the darkened alley? Done.”

He grunted and dropped the butt to the ground, using the steel toe of his boot to grind it out upon the ground. Thumbs loosely hooked into his belt as he looked up.

“I’ll kill Agents of Chaos and hunt Kaine Australis. I’ll fight in defense of my home, Manda’yaim, and the enemies that threaten us. I’ll stand with you against those that rise against us and kill those that threaten us. What you get is my arm and blade, until either of us die or until you break faith with me. I will never betray you if you keep the faith with me. I’ll march to the gates of Chaos in the Nether and beyond. And those that are allied with me will answer my call, which will add to your power. Clans, governments, planetary systems, and individuals. My stipulations are twenty percent of Manda’yaim to belong to me and passed down in perpetuity forever. A sign of the longevity I intend our alliance to last. In addition to this I will reinstitute the Protectors who will answer to me … and to you for services rendered in maintaining the peace and answering the call for times of war necessitating the imminent threat of our enemy.”

He slowly pulled the left gauntlet free of his left hand and reached over his shoulder carefully to draw his beskad. A swift pull of the edge across his palm covered the blade with his blood before he raised the blade before him.

“Will this suffice? An oath on the blood of my house, the word of my clan, the honor of my people. One I will not break. One I will honor until one of us tastes death, may that day be as distant as the tingel arm. What do you say, Lady Lirka Ka ?”

 

[Lirka Ka]

Lirka watched with an amused grin underneath her helmet, she saw much of herself in Muad Dib , though of course this barbarian lacked all of Lirka's stylistic knowledge: Mandalorian garb had always made the Sephi want to gag, he did nothing to dissuade Lirka from that idea. Maybe one day Lirka could teach these barbaric people a thing or two once the Galaxy finally calmed itself.

Her brutish appearance was deceptive, Lirka was a predator far more than she was a battering ram, she watched his movements with a comical joy: it had become the reminder that everything was working as planned, Lirka held all the cards now. Mandalore did not belong to him, did not belong to his people, Mandalore was dead. There was only Moridinae. And Moridinae belonged to her. And know Lirka knew that this barbarian knew that too...schemes grew after that fact reached her mind, yes, always more schemes and plots.

She listened well to the man's decree, it was an amusing mirror to Lirka's own loyalties to the Empire. A grumbling chuckle coming from her helmet when he finished.

"You are a man after mine own heart, Muad Dib. Find solace in that, it is a compliment few in this Galaxy have received, and fewer still are still breathing."

A distorted hm followed the rare compliment, much to ponder now. But ultimately the correct course of action was obvious.

"I accept your offer, now go, you have much to do. The terrorists fester still even as we speak, show them not mercy or pity: and do not be blinded by the honor of your people, none shall be forbidden from this war, their family, friends, peers, associates, all are targets: if you can not kill them, or maim them, you shall break them."