Science Fiction Drama Dune: The Between Years

IC: Thufir Hawat

There was a tingling in the old mentat's fingers - no doubt the Harkonnen poison announcing itself and asking for attention. He'd have to ask for sustenance soon, some treat from Feyd-Rautha's satchel, like a dog. The murmurs and shouts reverberating through the Landsraad chamber were, mostly, feigned - certainly no mentat participated in the outrage, but the Emperor's actions had been sufficiently hamfisted that anyone could see this was where things were headed. Perhaps that was part of the point. It was an odd course of action, however, and one worth investigating for more data - House Harkonnen had been involved in an enormous treachery, a breach of the Great Convention that could bring down House Corrino. No doubt others had deduced the sardaukar's role in the destruction of House Atreides, but only the Harkonnen could give hard evidence.

That would wait.

Thufir nudged the boy. The Baron sent Feyd, officially to show the boy off as the heir, but unofficially to show his disdain for the court and the Emperor's meddling. Feyd-Rautha was beautiful, but moody, and, in Hawat's estimation, somewhat stupid. Not in terms of potential, perhaps, but his acuity was blunted by sloth and languor. As such, Hawat had prepared the boy for this. It would be interesting to gather data on his responses.

Feyd Rautha cleared his throat. "Your Imperial Majesty, as Na-Baron of House Harkonnen, I request liberty to speak." The Padishah Emperor nodded in Feyd-Rautha's direction. The boy hesitated, but Hawat nudged him once more. He continued. "House Harkonnen was bestowed the fiefdom of Arrakis after the war of assassins we waged on behalf of the Emperor against the traitorous Atreides. We appreciate that the throne and the Guild have an ever increasing need for spice, but rather than declare our license to mine spice on Arrakis null, House Harkonnen suggests subcontracting mining rights to one of our vassals, thus preserving our right to our fief whilst increasing production. Currently the planet is directly governed by my brother, sitting head of the minor House Rabban. I nominate House Moritani, recently elevated to Major House Status following their stunning defeat of House Ginaz and their Atreides allies, to pick up the gap in production."

More feigned murmuring. Hawat predicted the Emperor would reject this proposal. Granted, there was always a chance he would accept it and stop there, but the statement fed to the Na-Baron was intended more to highlight Shaddam's unreason.

Thufir waited, eyes boring holes in the witch next to the Emperor.

TAG: @darthbernael

 

IC: Naveed
Before Dawn



He’d woken up early, already forgetting whatever dream he had dreamt, yet something remained. A sense of foreboding clung heavily to his awareness. Could it be that he was feeling…troubled?

Naveed rose to a sitting position with a huff, forcing any remaining drowsiness from his conscious mind, wishing only to be alert now. As he sat on the floor, he suddenly realized he’d been thumbing his water ring.

Naveed frowned then, Blue-on-blue eyes narrowing as a memory unfurled in his mind. Harkonnen soldiers had attacked another sietch while he was out on patrol. The whole region was on alert, due to the Harkonnen infidels increasing their already frequent aggressions.

He had acted instinctively then, or had it been impulsively? In the now, he couldn’t quite determine what had been so lucidly clear then. The other Fremen, their sietch was already lost, still they fought on. It was infuriating that he could only help a handful, that he could only cut down a few Harkonnen dogs.

So much water lost.

Wasted.

Why?

Naveed’s lips tightened into a thin line. He knew why.

Spice.

No, not Spice. Greed. Avarice.

Revolting

Slowly, Naveed released a breath he had been holding.

He had not meant to incur water debts from other Fremen, but what was done was done.

One did not need a Mentat to figure out what was next. It was only a matter of time before the Harkonnen War Machine found his home.

Shaking his head, Naveed huffed and brought his mind to focus. With precise movements, he checked his stillsuit, making sure everything was in order, then he turned to face the floor and began his rigorous morning exercise routine.

Let the Harkonnen dogs come. He would get stronger, faster and increase in cunning. They would be made to pay for their desecration. Each and every single one of them.

This he vowed.


Tag: @darthbernael

 

IC: Shamir
Preparing for Raiding

Shamir could feel soft grinding of the flowing sands. He watched as the dark grains of spice flowed through the air, drifting with the sand. Washing and turning, shifting away anything that marked the sand. Impermanence, that was the nature of Arrakis. That was the nature of life.

​

He watched grimly over the desert sands as he awaited his fellow Fremen to prepare. The Harkonnen demons having returned, barely gone long enough to notice. Atreides falling so ever swiftly. Swept away like a whisper, so fragile, unable to contend with the harshness of the desert, or reality.

And so their oppressors had returned, squeezing the Fremen people evermore for the spice, sucking the planet away like a cancerous parasite. Disgusting.

The Harkonnen house needed to fall, be utterly destroyed. A free Arrakis. It was Shamir's dream, his reality.

As Naib of his Sietch, he would not allow the Harkonnen's to trample over them as they once had. To invade and destroy his people's world in their unfettered greed.

Turning back from the outlook post he went back to check on the preparation of the raiding party. They were to destroy a harvester. For the spice was the lifeblood for the Harkonnens, this much was common knowledge. Their armies were mighty but they underestimated the Fremen, they knew not of their skill, of their desert power.

Shamir's cold blue on blue eyes overlooked the raiders and their final preparation, their weapons ready, their desire unified. Arrakis was their's, and their's alone.

TAG: @darthbernael

 

~IC~ Garsiv Artaxerxes
Location: Grand Audience - Kaitain

Garsiv shifted to refrain from fidgeting, all while keeping his focus on the empty throne. That was hard to do when the khaki and white dress uniform was a bit uncomfortable, especially the collar about the throat. Where was the Emperor?

“This is a first for us.” A melodic voice whispered from Garsiv’s left.

“We are guests, Lucina...” he answered under his breath, feeling uncomfortable with speaking while the assembly was gearing up to start. There were still some people milling about... they were probably seeking their spots amongst everyone else. “We should be on our best behaviour.”

Lucina tongue clicked. “Don’t you wonder why us? The Major and Minor Houses... representatives of the families within. The Spacing Guild. Oh look... Look at who else is here... The Mother Superior of the Bene Gesserit. I’m surprised they brought her all the way out here.” Lucina whispered. “Big fishies amongst the little fishies.”

Garsiv glanced to her. He always found there was something striking about Lucina’s face. Her eyes seem a fraction larger than that of most others with an intensity that could pierce your very soul. This time, she had this look of morbid curiosity. Earlier she was remarking how the huge supporting columns which reminded her of bars of a cage. Implying that we are pets in a menagerie. Now she was shifting over to a different analogy.

“This assembly is important to everyone.” Garsiv answered politely. “It is an honour to be selected to represent our families and our House.”

“If you say so.” Lucina did not sound convinced. “It would have made sense for there to be more of the seniority. Why? If not for the newer generation to be impressed upon and lured into servitude?”

Garsiv glanced about to see if anyone was reacting to the words Lucina was whispering. It was dangerous to speak such things at a public venue. There was a lady in close proximity to them, someone he wasn’t sure if he had seen before. He noticed a beauty about her, understated and certainly different from Lucina... However, the colours she wore suggest a possible allegiance to the House Moritani and that presented a danger if one of Lucina’s unfiltered remarks were overheard and taken out of context.

“I don’t think now is the time for such talks...” Garsiv warned Lucina.

“We are all little fishes.” She added in a soft sing song manner and gave a subtle nod in the direction of the throne. There was movement up there. “Someone is going to get eaten.”

Garsiv looked and watched a figure had came out and placed themselves on the throne. The Emperor.

A deep resonating tone commanded silence and attention. Garsiv stood tall, his back straight. He observed the Head of their House move, with their retainer in tow, to join the other Heads of the other Houses.

He had been told that this phase of the assembly is where the reports are given before decisions are made and made known to the rest of them.

What could be happening? Garsiv could not help but feel that pit in his stomach, a sense of trepidation about what was being discussed. The Harkonnen and the Moritani were the conspiring type and an ingrained dislike for Ginaz for being part of the Major Houses. The House Atreides had been their sponsor and with them disbanded and members hunted... Garsiv felt painfully aware that they in a sea filled with sharks... and that Lucina’s analogies have gotten into his head.

Were the Harkonnen and Corrino deciding their fate now? Will the Sardaukar be ordered to turn on them? What he would do to have his sword by his side. He has survived without it before and thankfully Lucina was by his side. They both would have a chance to overpower and disarm one and potentially take a few of them with them before the end-

“There are a few sweating...” Lucina’s whisper broke his planning. “The Harkonnen... are facing stressful times.”

Lucina was much better at this than him. Garsiv noted her observation and he too found himself discreetly looking to the others in attendance to try and gauge the mood. It appeared that the other Houses and the Guilds might also be experiencing some anxiety. He supposed that was a good thing. Given the slippery nature of the Harkonnen, he didn’t really like them at all, amongst other reasons. Politics was an arena that have no distinct battle lines, with all the plotting and scheming with words banded about with poison tipped blades, an ally can turn into an enemy without one realising until too late. At least a soldier has the advantage to be able to look their enemy in the eye.

It was time for the announcement. Garsiv braced himself for what that might be. A myriad of conclusions raced through his head, however, he had not expected it to be focused on Industry. For all Houses to participate in harvesting the commodity of spice.

That was it? It couldn’t have been that simple... Garsiv furrowed his brow. Or was it simple? No, there was something there... an underlying threat...

As to looked to some of the faces, he saw a varying range of emotions... greed, ambition, curiosity, despair... this would drive competition. Open season on the spice or each other in the name of spice? A ploy to pit everyone against each other? A means to cull the herd? All for what? Prestige and death? Greed...

“Oh, what little fishies we are.” He murmured.

“Very nice.” Lucina sounded pleased. “You are catching on.”

TAG: @darthbernael @BobaMatt @HanSolo29 @pashatemur @TheAdmiral

 

OCC: Thank you C_O for your masterful help in completing the drawing!
IC: Sr. of the Bene Gesserit, Na’die, Kanti-Sokanon
LOCATION: Corrinth City, Kaitan, Safehouse and Great Hall of the Opal Palace



"I was a wild little girl, with a pair of soft moccasins on my feet and the wind in my hair and no less spirited than a bounding deer...I seem to be in a spiritual unrest. I hate this eternal tug of war between being wild and becoming 'civilized.' I am what I am." ¹

She read her own hand, written with now fading ink in the small hours of a burgeoning day which promised to be one of mad preparation, pace and arranged to appear competently calm and deftly controlled. But if any thought it so, including those giving this impending performance, spread as they were across lightyears and dark mapping, they were arranging their perception to meet things prescribed. Kenti-Sokanon's nimble finger smoothed the soft, fuzzy edge of her journal, the trace of spice and oils turning saffron the once blank white pages. These words laying bare her passage from child to womb-man would one day be dust.

The soft knock at her door did not cause her to stir, but smiling to herself, she hummed her singsong acknowledgement that she was awake and ready to rise from her makeshift cell. Whichever Sister had rapped upon her door would wonder through the day whence that too sweet scent arose. Likely not to note the faint stain on her knocking knuckles.

The three other sisters who occupied the safe house with Sr. Na'die, were likewise, unranked and living as day workers in the Imperium's capitol, Corrinth City. It was a huge metropolis filled with statuary, fountains and gardens, monuments, businesses, financial institutions, government, art, institutions of learning and of course, vice, greed, intrigue and many, many secrets.

Their apartment lay in the morning shadow of the Opal Palace's spectacular, looming edifices. It was a day like any other: eternal blue skies, a soft breeze, the weather warm and the air pregnant with moisture. Water in the fountains, in ponds, lakes, oceans, and occasional showers. The city towers sparkled in the soft morning light, chime kites tethered to them tinkled, their refracting crystals and translucent streamers scattering "rainbows" like ephemeral petals on building, cobbled streets, and the citizenry, distraction for cats to chase and paw.

Eschewing their black habits, the four wore fine but restrained attire, nothing ostentatious that might attract attention nor place them at too modest a level for attendees at the Imperial court. Kanti-Sokanon, Sister Na'die held the pallu of her midnight blue and gold trimmed saree. The silk snapped and fluttered in the morning breeze, the gold stars dotting the blue ground seemed to wink. She wrapped trailing pallu around her hair to keep the dark strands from blowing free from the gold comb that held the bun at the nape of her neck and pulled the back of her skirt forward to tuck it into the waist of her pleased nivi to form dohti pants as her cohort, like her, set out into the mad rush of early commuters off to their assigned work, some with good intentions, others to hype or sell the next best lie, and having either taken it as the shape of truth or cared only that it increase the household Fisk, contented themselves that they at least were not required to keep up with the news!

"There now, fellow slogger," said her matins caller as she lurched her cycle forward from the cramped breezeway to the dusty street, " be charitable!" Pulling up behind her sisters, Sokanon wondered if her smirk appeared so obvious? But that was not a matter to take up the little time before arriving at the Palace. Many machinations already in play were certain to intensify during and after this convening of brokers and players. The War of Assassins was only a preset. "Fasten your seat belts, it's going to be a bumpy night!" Quoth some earnest lady from an old piece of celluloid-acetate, strange artifact of the long dead cradle planet, Earth.





They left their vehicles near the Landsraad Hall of Oratory separating to enter the Palace and on into the monumental chamber that held the Golden Lion Throne, the agate Throne of the Imperium's Padishah Emperor, Shaddam Corrino IV and surmounting the entrance to the Great Hall, was the inscription, "Law is the Ultimate science!"

The Emperor, his red hair slicked back, stood between the Reverend Mother Mohiam on his left and on his right, a navigator. He surveyed the reverberating hall. For one so clearly burdened, he carried himself like a man half his age-interesting that! His brow was creased from habitual foraging of the future and ruminations on the past -worry, intrigue. This was so for many leaders in this room. None however gave the impression of a bird of prey, crammed into a cage so well as Shaddam.

Using a code known only to the order, the four sisters signaled to one another and it would be relayed to a Reverend Mother, then, quietly, subtly to Mother Superior Gaius Helen Mohiam as they mingled with the crowd on the periphery. From the edges of the assembled, the small covert contingent could survey the great hall and those in it while appearing to look for a better view of the greater houses. Some of the audience were immaculately arrayed, standing tall, making themselves big and others, while similarly dressed were in details askew and or lacking, either way, indicative of the anxiety pleating the room.

Count Hasimir Fenring, wasn't on the dais at the Emperor's elbow, though Kanti-Sokanon. Though she thought that she had caught sight of his slight frame shifting deftly through the crowd. He seemed here and there like a flitting dragonfly of Rossak jungles, and she wondered if the half-whispered rumors of his failed seeding were true. If so, Sokanon felt a slight pang for his unfortunate ‘twisting.’ Nor was the Countess Margot at the fore, but surely amongst the Corrino, watching with the others of that Imperial House.

In conversations half heard or in full, there was much speculation but little spoken. Those who felt they understood some veiled intent checked their tongues and scowled or smiled as little as possible-but even as the Emperor’s booming voice commanded silence, the very air was heavy with the odor of fear and lust.

Slipping past a young couple from House Ginaz-Sokanon recognized the Heraldic emblem of crossed swords on a rhomboid field of blue and red on the young warrior's white uniform. The slight and subtle woman was graceful-a dancer perhaps. She was also sharp- witted and saucer-like eyes darted here and there as she humorously analyzed the denizens of the Great Hall in whose midst they stood, accurately summing the portends of the edicts being issued. Sister Na'die smiled at their conversation. However, noting others moving in and amongst the people with vigilance, the young man was wise to warn his diminutive companion to be muted in her sarcasm.

To the suppleness of understanding the Ginaz couple demonstrated, the evoked lines Sokanon commemorated and tucked them away later for her journal:

‘Phem’ral black robes, netted veils, the whimsy of the ‘better view,’
secreted blades and highliners, false markets and rarity true,

Tattoo’d red, box, beaded needled, wombs twine and weave th’acid thread,
f’what once was wiser love, flowing blood trails in its stead.

And the turtles slip and paddle just to build the tallest tower,
and he who sits atop is deemed the one with greatest power.

Yet, for all th’alchemists toil, distilling quotas, computing trends,
what strands may join, do unravel to an unrelenting end.
-Na’dia, K-S

So many naked in such a vast hall! Eyes darted left then right, many, if they had one, drew their veils a little further forward and hope to hide their glee or trepidation. Others left, via the nearest exit to seize the moment and capitalize or stop the flow of wasted resources, make new alliances or otherwise stop the room from turning!

House Harkonnen was making ...an adjustment! Whatever poisoned daggers were half-drawn perhaps were what she was hearing, resheaved. But however happy the Guild were, they too were being played. Sokanon wished she could devine just how or why, but it was a vague sort of feeling, something that a certain classic character would call, “a hunch!”

Aware of part of the history between the Houses Ginaz, Moritani, Atreides, and Corrino, Sokanon smoothed her brow and fixed a soft smile on her face as the crowd seemed to deflate over the sobering state of affairs. This announcement changed many things, undoing centuries of friendship, for some.....

Recently deceased, Duke Leto Atreides, had teased the Emperor’s envy, and created a military force necessary to harnessing power that rivaled the Corrino’s Saudaukar and the wilds of Arrakis where he’d found himself moved by a greater power-adapt or perish. Yet, the brilliance of an intelligent and compelling leader only bought the assassin’s hand.

As persuasive a political actor and commanding of loyalty as the Duke Leto was, seeming to absorb whatever rotten thing was thrown at him, he was doomed. Even his child had been the target of a thwarted assassinion. That disturbed Sokanon. It had been disturbing to her since she had been alerted to attend the court with the other actors here today. Why, other than to be eyes and ears? There was a “why,” that she knew, but that why was somehow bound to this moment.

She surveyed the vaulted room and wrinkled her nose at the smell of fear. “Fear is the min..blah, blah, blah!”

Not so long ago, Shaddam had supported Leto in his trial, and still, evidence pointed to Shaddam’s long arm. as to why Leto took “the big sleep.” As to Lady Jessica and her son, Jessica was made of stern stuff, there was no reason for her to have succumbed except in the event of overwhelming force or the planet itself! Or so Sokanon hoped, but she kept that hope to herself.

She looked at the Emperor, the predator in his cage, studying his face. What do you want? What are you after but power? And the Guild, why are they gloating so? The economic fallout would still affect them, particularly if overmining of spice caused the..very...thing...She scowled, the answer frustrated and disgusted her, but still...

¹Zitkála-Šá a first people woman composer and violinist

TAG: @darthbernael, @Corellian_Outrider, @TheAdmiral, @BobaMatt, @HS29

 

IC: sister Aya-Carolina Mohini
Location: Grand Audience - Kaitain

“Survival is the ability to swim in strange water.”
Bene Gesserit proverb

This was not her first visit to the Imperium’s capital world of Kaitain, but back then she was just a novice, now she was a full sister of the Bene Gesserit Sisterhood. A sister that had been assigned to one of the smaller houses, the one of Ginaz.

At first she had been disappointed but knew better not to air her feelings to the Mother Superior. So, she played the part of the obedient little drone until she could find her bearing and look for opportunities.

And one presented itself. The fall of House Atreides. A great tragedy and all that, but an opportunity nonetheless! House Ginaz had been an ally to Duke Leto, so now, without its benefactor the Minor House could make its move towards ascension.

If the duke played his cards right. Sister Mohini was a young woman of great ambition. The voices of her ancestors guided her through the currents. It was time to prove her worth...

But Aya had to calm her Fremen blood, it was still very theoretical. She needed more pieces of the puzzle so that she could see the bigger picture better. Besides, House Ginaz could not take out the Moritanis on its own, not while the blasted Harkonnens were still alive.

But if the rumours were true the Emperor was slowly and methodically destroying the fat Baron. Good riddance. If the rumours were true about what he had done to Mother Mohiam in the past. Aya gave a mental shudder at the thought.

So while the Harkonnens were too busy trying to stop the Emperor (as if you could stop a force of nature) House Ginaz could get to work. If the other rumours were true there might be even some Atreides’ soldiers hiding among the local tribes and engaging in guerrilla warfare.

They would need all the allies that they could get and House Ginaz would need soldiers who are familiar with the local conditions. Besides, if they were working with the Fremen they could provide security for the harvesters. Profits and elevation of the House to Major would soon follow.

That was for sure.

Aya wondered whether any of the survivors would know of Jessica’s fate. She did not harbor any warm feelings towards the Sister turned Lady, so she did not shed any tears for her assumed demise.

After all, as a part-Fremen herself she did not want to waste any water for her...

Surely the Mother Superior would recognize that Sister Mohini was the preferred candidate to bear the Kwisatz Haderach.

But first things first, she was going to listen to what the Emperor and his cronies had to say, then adjust accordingly. She was a patient woman…

TAG: @darthbernael @pashatemur @Corellian_Outrider @HanSolo29 @BobaMatt

 

Combined with @Mitth_Fisto

IC: Espanza and Mudze



The light of a damaged glowglobe idly bobbing against the ceiling cast long shadows across the floor as the men disembarked from the transport. The one called Randolpho - the one who'd hired Mudze for the job - had bent low to wipe sand away from a spot on the floor, revealing an Atreides hawk etched there, its lines deepened by the stark light. Surely it would be covered with sand again shortly. Mudze stretched, glad to be out of the cramped ship and breathing a planet's air again. He got closer and crouched beside Espanza, frowning at the hawk. "I guess we're in the right place."

Standing back and letting the crew do their jobs whilst keeping an eye out was often the most underrated jobs. It was often one of the more boring jobs he could ever be hired for. On the positive side, this job, the specific one they had all been hired for by House Ginaz - well, at least it had a mortality rate. That always kept him on his toes. Threat of injury or death, that will do.

Hearing the others words at seeing the sand swept aside he gave a silent nod. "Their loss is our safe port. It's about time I take the ornithopter out." the men knew their jobs and this one was going to keep everything going smoothly. "You going to co-pilot or stay?" Far be it from him to tell a veteran how to do things.

Mudze rubbed his chin. He looked around the hangar. The pirates they'd brought with them were a rugged crew, for sure, and knew what they were doing, but they'd need to plan. Someone needed to prepare a briefing on exactly what the Ginaz wanted from them. "We've only just arrived, my good blade. You looking for something specific out there?"

With a shrug and a smile back, Randolpho didn't have anything really dramatic to say except, "I hate waiting. Need to get a feel for the area, see what I see. Hate to make plans on imagination."

Mudze thought about this for a moment and then shrugged. "Do tell us if anything strikes your interest, old friend! Careful to stay aloft. Here there be worms." He clapped Randolpho on the shoulder, used the leverage to spin around to face the men milling about the hangar. He clapped loudly to call attention to himself. "All right, my good sand rats. Let's get to work." Behind him, the wings of an 'thopter began to buzz.

TAGS: @darthbernael

 

IC: Naveed
Tooth of Shai-Hulud



Harkonnen.

He couldn’t bring himself to even speak the word, lest the very utterance burn his lips and poison his soul. From his vantage point, his blue-in-blue eyes saw them clearly: the invaders, the infidels. How they snaked their way like the robbers and despoilers that they were. Stealing. Desecrating.

In the air, dozens of ornithopters buzzed around like winged demons. They watched from above, armed and crewed by six enemies each. The spotters would be focused on looking for ‘wormsign’, but could not be discounted off-hand.

In addition, there were the carryalls, also piloted by six. Their numbers and function was quite specific, critical even for their thieving operation. However, they remained airborne and out of reach.

The harvester itself, a lumbering beetle-like target, was crewed by two dozen enemies.

Yes, Naveed knew their numbers. He had studied the enemy, visited many of their wrecks, even infiltrated some of their vehicles during his more daring escapades. His blade was thirsty for revenge, yet he needed to be patient, to bide his time, to wait for the perfect moment. Presently, he was greatly outnumbered by the Harkonnen infidels. But that was a mere 'technicality'.

This was the desert of Arrakis, a place with its own laws.

All he had to do to turn the tables was thump upon the sand, once the enemy was fully committed to their thievery and desecration. Though he might posses but a mere tooth, in the presence of Shai-Hulud himself, no amount of enemy numbers would matter, for Shai-Hulud was the law, and he would rule against the Harkonnen.

For Shai-Hulud was Desert Power.

All Hail Shai-Hulud.


Tag: @darthbernael, any Fremen

 

IC: Mudze

The men were nervous, and that was the right instinct. "Simmer down," Mudze called out. "The blast marks? Maybe Fremen. Maybe other smugglers. Nothing you haven't seen before. Worm damage just means these machines are hardy enough to make it through a worm attack - if they weren't, they wouldn't be damaged they'd be in a worm's belly. If they have bellies. We won't know about getting these harvesters out until Espanza gets back and can tell us about the spice sands. I've heard the tales of the Hagga Basin, but likely our competition has, too, and if we have the stones to mine there, well, that's to our advantage.

"In the meantime, I need you men looking for sabotage. It may be subtler than desert damage. The caryall can fly, but can it lift? There's blasts and scrapes on the crawlers, but what about damaged intake valves, slashed filters, sluggish centrifuges. Get in there, anything that doesn't feel right, elevate that complaint to me. Fix it, yeah, but let me know. You guys, with the guns?" And here he gestured to a few of his heavies. "Sweep the hangar. Look for anyone snooping - Arrakeen is largely deserted, and the Harkonnen are based in Carthag, but they know we're here. And, to that point, we're not the only ones here! Hm."

Mudze lifted his pack, desert supplies in tow, and strapped a small sword to his belt. "Shall we do a sweep?"

Three heavily armed smugglers in tow, Mudze walked to the hangar exit.

TAG: @Mitth_Fisto, @darthbernael

 

IC: Randolpho Espanza
Ornithopter in Flight - Exploring the Dunes

He didn't want to say he was rusty, so let's say the ornithopter, a slightly older model, needed a little more love and attention to lift to a high enough height. Looking over what was simply called the Shieldwall, Randolpho was pleasantly surprised to see that these mountains gave way to the sands - that, and that everybody seemed to be heading north and south. To the southwest of Arrakeen, as it clawed higher, the sight of various carryalls, with a variety of logos, was visible as they too reached high enough altitude, near Carthag. The craft spread out, most headed to the west or north of his location, so polar south. One was already winging its way in his general direction, slightly north of the Shieldwall, near an outcropping of rock in the desert sands. More were headed toward what seemed to be a depression to the west.

"So, I be a thinking." he muttered to himself as he watched all of this going on. "Two ways to cut this. Either we compete with that. Or we go where they are not." he muttered. He didn't like it. Most likely they were all headed where they were headed because that was where the sure money was. A good thing to note, but a sure thing was not granted by following the herd. After all, a known thing was also a known place for competition and contention.

The ‘thopter circled and it was obvious that very few were headed true north, toward the nearer pole or toward what was known as the Great Flat. The plat of recent sandworm activity, as well as recent storm activity was on the display and he had to wonder why those areas were being avoided. A third data set was added and that brought the reason into focus. Those craft that had been sent to those regions, in recent days, had suffered the most casualties from the Fremen. Of course they’d mostly been of Harkonnen or Moritani livery. Others had either been captured and released or ignored. That made it tempting, if they were ignored. . .that could be profitable.

As Randolpho continued the survey, he made a quick flitting zip to check out the east and west of the Shield Wall. Best to check where competition was least and also where they were avoiding. See what he could see and then head on back. Staying in the air for long after that would be pointless, and he was starting to get a little restless to return to see how things actually were shaping up at camp.

TAG: @BobaMatt , @darthbernael

 

OOC: combined with @darthbernael and @TheAdmiral. Thank you both.



IC: Sr. of the Bene Gesserit, (unknown rank), Na’die, Kanti-Sokanon, Reverend Mother Superior Harishka, Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam, Sr. Aya-Carolina Mohini, Sr. Levi

LOCATION: Corrinth City, Great Hall of the Opal Palace; Safehouse, Kaitan to a Bene Gesserit Chapterhouse

​

Opal Palace

Sokanon watched the watchers while also observing the disbanding clutches and the manner in which they departed, giving a nod to this one or that as a matter of civility. Now, she and her three sisters must quickly make their way to the Kaitan Scola as signed discreetly by Mother Mohiam.

The Sisters Four grabbed their cycles and sped separately via varied routes to the Scola. Living on the outside in the Safe House, they were all well acquainted with the shortest and fastest means through Corrinth City’s confusing maze of streets. They zigged and dove in and out of the traffic to the abbey. Sokanon carefully weaved around pedestrians and jams, hawkers, and traffic circles, making sure, as did the others, that they were unfollowed and seen as just commuters.

Kaitan Scola Chapterhouse

Sr. Na’die arrived first at a large and solid lift gate which sat between two gardens siding two grand houses. The gates looked like the entrance to a private hangar or garage for either house, a wing or wings of which continued across the back. The four sisters arrived separately and entered with vegetables and other goods that a house of grand size might need. Standing for a moment before the garage, a small door opened in the lift gate. Sokanon entered and set her cycle to one side of the vaulted garage where several vehicles were parked on the very clean stone floor. The concealed slots she knew to be in the walls holding the silent and poisonous seekers were well hidden. She could reliably detect a few, but not all, just as she was not able to see the hidden guardians and yet knew they observed her. At the back, the vaulted way extended by some 30 more meters with light shining down via cupolas overhead. Her footsteps echoed as she advanced to a substantial metal door with a ringer which stood at the center of the wall. Sokanon rang the bell, was asked for a sign and her hand with which she complied. She was quietly let into the garden. It would be so for the others.

Before her, a young sister waited, garbed in the long, dark trailing gown that was the daily wear of the Bene Gesserit. Though it may have seemed so to some, it was not the mark of obsequious adherence, but a matter of erasing a separate and distracted identity. To Sokanon, it was too long, too drapey, too hot, too ...it got in the way!

The Sister gestured for Sokanon to follow. No words were exchanged. The covered cloister and meditation garth were silent save for nature, a thing at which Sokanon smiled. They strolled maddeningly slowly. It was the sister’s little rebellion, an exercise in controlling others.

Eventually, they progressed until the sister gestured her into a small cell where neatly folded black habits and veils waited. She must divest herself of the distraction of the outside world and assume not only the requisite focus of a Bene Gesserit, but the necessary anonymity of the veil. Sisters of unknown rank had to be kept from internecine intrigue to be effective. Sokanon sighed, dressed, and soon, stood once again before the silent sister and followed round the broad cloister to the Chapterhouse proper, with its oval colonnade. Now vested in their habits, the four entered in proper reverence.It was only a few moments before the Reverend Mother Superior Harishka entered the space, followed shortly after by the Reverend Mother Mohiam. The former took the seat at the head of the room, as the head of the Sisterhood, Mohiam beside her. At the sight of the four, in their concealing robes, after the other three joined the first arrived, Harishka smiled softly.

"My unranked, you tread a path many sisters cannot. Which, in many ways, makes you even more valuable to the Sisterhood. Your independence of thought or action brings new insight." She glanced at Mohiam before looking back at the four of them, "A time of turmoil has been felt to come, a crossroads, and we must be the architects of that moment."

Sokanon had no particular expectation for this audience other than that it be a debriefing on observations made during the Opal Place convention less than an hour before. However, the Mother Superior's preamble signaled there was more to come. The Bene Gesserit's words might be florid, when necessary, but there were never any wasted words.

Thus, while having given her attention to the Proctor, she waited upon those mots from the sphinx-like Mother Harishka. Sokanon thought, 'Concentré sur l'avenir de l'humanité, rassemblant le pouvoir avec lequel former le présent, pourtant, peut-être que l'objectif est devenu un objectif de pouvoir et non d'amélioration de l'humanité!'

Again, the enigmatic smile from the Mother Superior. "Arrakis is the focal point, as expected. However, there are other swirls in the chaos of the future. Two of the Houses," she looked thoughtful for a moment as though noticing the sister assigned to House Ginaz was not yet present, "demonstrated that in the Emperor's audience."

Elle parle! Sokanon's ears lifted. The 'Sphinx’ was now steering in a particular sea of conflict. Sokanon looked ahead, not stirring a muscle so she might capture every nuance.

The Mother Superior's eyes drifted across the four of them, "Both houses have their own agents on the desert planet. Both are in competition and opposition in every arena. Either could prove crucial to navigating the time of turmoil. "

Mohiam's eyes seemed to glaze as though she were not directly looking at the sisters. In her mind, the memories of those who went before clamored for attention. They directed her gaze at the four unranked. Her voice began to whisper, "Sand, blue eyes, turmoil hangs over them. Crossed swords, a horse's head, at odds...the sand and turmoil will spread across the galaxy if it is not guided by our hand…"

----

Opal Palace:

"I will join you very soon, my lord Duke." Aya-Carolina gave a small smile "As you said, I need to confer with the Mother Superior. It should not take long." She bowed her head and glided towards the exit. She had seen the signal and headed towards the Bene Gesserit's Safe House. The Kaitan Scola, Chapterhouse. After all, she had to maintain decorum, so her steps were carefully measured as to be both fast enough and controlled enough as not to appear that she was in a hurry. A very thin balance that only a sister could maintain.

She wondered what the meeting would be about. Sister Mohini had heard that Misionaria Protectiva had done some work on Arrakis before House Atreides went there, but it seemed like it had not worked, since the boy and Jessica were... well... dead.

Chapterhouse:

Aya-Carolina noted a sister standing apart from a group of three others. Those must have been the Sisterhood's agents. She nodded to her and bowed in reverence to Mother Harishka. "I apologize for my tardiness." She looked down.

"You are a sister but you are assigned to House Ginaz." came the reply. A fractional smile, "I would imagine the Duke had last minute words before you departed. I was discussing the swirls of turmoil the future portends. Ginaz, I will say, for your benefit, stands upon the precipice."

Kanti-Sokanon, Sister Na’die, stood still. She noted her companion sisters did as well. Aya-Carolina entered late and did not vest. It was startling. As to her tardiness, she had been waylaid by the Duke Ginaz. Sokanon could not claim knowledge of him; she was only aware of him. That apparently was now Sr. Mohini’s purview and as such, she would be heading into the storm! Sokanon glanced from the ‘Sphinx’ to Mohini and back again.

The Mother Superior returned her attention to the four shrouded ones. “Sister Aya-Carolina will be returning to Ginaz to fulfill her duties there, where the Duke will send her. But the four of you, I would have you choose. There are Houses upon Houses that need a visit from the Sisterhood. And," her eyes seemed sharper for a moment, "we still fail at having sisters penetrate the closed network of the Fremen."

Shoulders tense, Sokanon fixed an intense gaze on the Reverend Mother Superior Harishka and breathed deeply. Sweet water upon her lips! The Fremen held an important position in this complex web. Sokanon stepped forward, bowed respectfully and raised her gaze as she rose, and nodded, "Bid me, and I will go!" Others had said the same. They departed for the desiccated planet fortified with focus and calling. No word came and they did not return. As well trained as a Bene Gesserit can be, those that went before to Arrakis were water for Fremen or food of worms.

At Sr. Na'die's quiet assumption, the 3 other unranked turned their heads slightly before checking themselves. Sister Levi, bowing stiffly, said, "As will I." The other two did likewise, glancing at Sokanon. None of them could deny that they had bonded during their time as a cohort. It seemed they spoke as one.

Mother Superior Harishka smiled softly at the statements. A nod to the four unranked, knowing them as she did, she knew they would fulfill their duties in their own ways but ultimately for the good of the Sisterhood. Her blue eyes turned, locking on Sister Aya-Carolina, although it was Mohiam that spoke, “And you, young Sister Aya-Carolina, do you accept the words of our Mother Superior?”

Aya maintained the classical Bene Gesserit calm, there was an opportunity at hand. "I do." she said simply "If I may be so bold." Sister Mohini started carefully "But I have Fremen blood in me and as you know they revere us." Aya continued carefully, this was a perilous road she was on. "The duke is very much interested in Arrakis, which is to be expected." she eyed the Mother Superior "As I mentioned the Fremen revere us, but they still believe us to be outsiders and I believe I am in a good position to make contact with them, given that I am of their blood." she explained, though that was a bit redundant.

"I believe I can be of an assistance to the sisters tasked to finding them and making contact." and also it would allow her to keep one foot in whatever the Sisterhood was planning. They would not exclude her from the grander schemes by placing her with a minor house, albeit one with great potential.

Sokanon raised an ear. Yes, the sister’s stratagem was “bold!” Though, invoking both the missionaria protectiva and the panoplia propheticus only highlighted the difficulty of reaching and ‘persuading’ the sister’s forebears, the Fremen, to accept the order in preparation for the coming of their Kwitsatz Haderach. Thus far, the “way” had elongated and not contracted. The Bene Gesserit were not the first nor would they be the last to employ the tactic of appropriating and injecting themselves and information into a culture’s myths, values, and superstitions for the purpose of manipulating them. Again, Sr. Na’die wondered whether the order’s purpose had become self-serving rather than for the betterment of humanity. Witness the ‘self-less dedication’ of Sr. Mohini! ‘Qui court deux lièvres à la fois, n’en prends aucun !’

Harishka smiled softly at the responses from around the room. Mohiam nodded, an equally thin smile upon her face. The Mother Superior addressed Aya-Carolina first, “We are aware of the Duke’s plans, have factored them into our thinking. Which is why you are to accept what his plans are. There are other plans already in place for the Fremen, but your...enthusiasm will be kept in mind.” Her tone brooked no discussion, Aya-Carolina was a Bene Gesserit first and bound to the House Ginaz second.

Her attention focused on the four cloaked and veiled unranked, directing her voice to them all. Seemingly at random she gestured at two of them, “You and you will attend House Ecaz.” Her hand moved, now gesturing at the sister beside Sokanon, “You will attend House Ordos.” Finally, her attention was on Sokanon, “And you, you will attend House Moritani.” As with Aya-Carolina, it was the orders of a leader to those that needed to carry out her orders.

Sr. Na’die bowed and stepped forward in acceptance. Eyes lowered, she rose slowly and lifted her gaze to Mother Superior. “As is required for the greater good, I so dedicate myself.” She stepped back and stood, quiet of body. Of mind, she was busy preparing for her departure, because it kept her focused feeling the momentary mental pull of Sr. Levi. They would leave this place after the Reverend Mother and Mother Superior released them and each depart as they were bidden. There would be no farewells.

Well, it was a worthwhile risk, deep down Aya knew the result, but it never hurt to try. Besides, her idea was not completely shot down, so there would be other opportunities. "I serve the Sisterhood." she bowed her head in deference. There was no point in pressing her luck any further. She was if nothing else, very adaptable. It was important to plant the seed and as the ancient proverb stated, ‘The journey of thousand miles begins with one step.’

Mother Superior Harishka nodded slightly. “You are all dedicated to the Sisterhood and your dedication will not be forgotten. I must return to Chapterhouse and await your reports.” Her eyes drifted over the four unranked and Sister Aya-Carolina, trying to discern anything of their futures, before she sighed lightly, raising her hand, “You are dismissed to your tasks. May your training serve you well.”

Sokanon wished all well, but Mother Harishska had expressed that sentiment already. Sr. Levi bowed. Sr. Na'die, Kanti-Sokanon and the other two unranked sisters bowed as well, all quietly filing out and leaving the Kaitan chapterhouse to embark on their separate missions.

Aya gave a small smile, she was overall satisfied with the meeting, and bowed. Once she was sure she was free to go, she just spun on her heel, the long skirts made the motion look like one of those ancient puppets with clockwork mechanisms. Then she simply started walking, she had to rejoin the duke and move things there as well.

TAG: @darthbernael

 

IC: Naveed
Plastic Basin, near the Funeral Plain



The eyes of Ibad; they took it all in, the entire spectacle. Naveed absorbed every detail he was able to, counted the enemy numbers, saw them fall before the might of Shai-Hulud.

As judgement was passed upon the infidels, their harvesters and carryalls and flying vehicles, all receiving their just punishment for their defilement, Naveed and his accompanying ‘Ichwan Bedwine’ seemed to speak almost in unison:

O’ Shai-Hulud!

Bless the Maker and his water

Blessed the coming and going of him

May his passage cleanse the world

May he keep the world for his people​

The moment filled them with fervor and awe, it inspired in them great courage and lent them strength and conviction - for their cause was just.

Watching the infidels suddenly have their fortunes changed from a position of absolute authority to extreme vulnerability was satisfying, yet it was not enough. The infidels would simply come again, for they were a forgetful people. That’s why they had to be taught, yet again and again, that they were not welcomed.

More importantly, an opportunity had been created. The cacophony and chaos left in the wake of the worms passing was ripe for exploitation.

In that very moment, a commanding fist was raised.

“Riflemen, eliminate any enemy who tries to escape! Do not allow them to flee!” Naveed declared to those who rallied around him, his tone grim. Shouts of eager assent followed in response.

“Fremen!!” He called on the rest who were armed with their knives, and some with guns taken from fallen infidels themselves.

“Three by three formation! Let’s take their water!!”

Several shouts went out, but thankfully remained bottled-in by the cave.

“Bi-la Kaifa!!”

Naveed's fist surged forward.

And so, the band of Fremen moved out, pouring out like driven sand from the caves, moving in seemingly erratic patterns, as they pursued the disoriented infidels. In short, they all expected to find resistance upon the battlefield, for that was natural. However, the infidel’s resistance would be for naught in the face of the fighting Fremen, who were determined, down to the last man, to drive their enemies from the desert and the planet itself.

Indeed, Naveed sped forth using what cover he found to keep himself unseen until the last moment. He pursued two feeling spice workers who had their backs to him. With a surge of speed, the young warrior launched himself on the back of the nearest infidel and plunged his knife deep between the enemy's ribs, even as he dragged him to the ground, twisted the knife, then rolled forward, lunging for the legs of the second, even before he turned.

He planned to repeat the process and then move to the next target. His focus was singular and unwavering. There would be no spice for their enemies this day, but plenty of water for the Fremen.


Tag: @darthbernael

 

IC: Thufir Hawat
Harkonnen Estate, Corinth City, Kaitain

Hawat twisted his stained lips and shifted in his chair. "Orders."

Well!

He traced a line on the table with his finger while he spoke, observing the fading sunlight still streaming multicolored through the tall windows. "The Bene Gesserit are inscrutable, but you're quite astute in forecasting that they will separate. I don't know they're plans but I do know they won't like not knowing, and will no doubt disperse agents throughout the current milieu. The Ginaz are of course burdened already with a witch of their own - I expect we'll see a visitor soon, as will the Moritani."

A faint stab of pain in his liver - no doubt the poison once more taking hold. Hawat clenched the vegetable slurry in the mug before him - he knew it contained the antidote, as did all his food. He removed the stopper from his vial of sapho and tipped a few drops into the sludge. He drank deeply - it ran hot and chunky down his throat.

"When we arrived on Arrakis the locals took a special interest in the Lady Jessica and Paul. Connected somehow to a prophecy. I've heard rumors that the Bene Gesserit manipulate locals on occassions - I would take special care to watch whether any of the witches disappear into the desert in search of the sietches. Their work is seen there."

He breathed deeply, feeling the sapho awaken his brain. "The Ginaz will be in Arrakeen. As they've been demoted to House Minor I suspect they will not have many resources. It's possible they'll try to salvage equipment, make use of whatever's left of the Atreides presence. Keep a lookout for underworld elements - they may hire smugglers. I have contacts among the smugglers. We'll have to hear what they have to say." A pause. "Given their lack of resources I expect they'll try to mine where no one else is mining. We'll need eyes on that."

He coughed as he stood up. His mind was sharp but his body was not. "My only other order," he said, straightening his tunic, "is to send Feyd-Rautha home. He's played his part. Don't say it like that, of course - he's done well! - but he's done here."

Hawat ambled off. If he hurried, perhaps he could still catch Moritani before he left.

TAG: @darthbernael

 

~IC~ Garsiv Artaxerxes
Location: Grand Audience Hall - Kaitain

Garsiv caught sight of the Duke of Ginaz, just as Lucina whispered that she too, saw him returning to them.

What news did he carry?

They didn’t have long to wait. Garsiv and Lucina exchanged glances as they were instructed to prepare to head to Arrakis to rally their forces. Arrakis!

It took a moment for that to register with Garsiv before he obediently bowed his head and responded with: “It shall be done.”

He couldn’t but overhear what the Duke was saying to the Bene Gesserit that was assigned to their House. An audience with the Mother Superior? There was something significant about that.

Glancing about, Garsiv noticed that the assembly was dwindling down and the other attendees were milling into their smaller groups or starting to file out of the chamber. They excused themselves and made their way back to their lodgings.

---

Location: Ginaz Compound - Kaitain
“Arrakis. Of all infernal places to be stationed. It had to be Arrakis.”

“You don’t seem happy.” Lucina remarked cooly.

They were back at their temporary accomodation and Garsiv turned away from the view of the city to face her. He sucked in a breath and grimaced. “Given recent history... would you, Lucina?”

She tilted leaned her head to her left shoulder as her large, piercing eyes studied him. To the uninitiated, some consider such a gaze to be unsettling.

“Spice is the commodity that fuels the Imperium.” She answered melodically. “It has become a necessity. The House that secures the most will be elevated in prestige. Some would consider that a great honour to be the one instrumental in securing success for our House.”

Garsiv paused. He knew what she was saying and also recognised her underlying non committal answer. He also knew that if there wasn’t enough spice, it could cripple the Imperium.

“I can’t help but feel that something is wrong. What if it is a trap?” He spoke his mind. “What if the Harkonnen or their allies use this as an excuse to turn on us.”

“Ooh...” Lucina cooed softy as she stepped closer. “It would be illogical for them to repeat the same method twice.”

He bobbed his head as he considered that. “True, though there are other means to achieve similar results.”

“Of course there are other means.” She stated matter of factly. “Why else are we being sent to rally our forces?”

Garsiv lightly chuckled as he crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bunk. “Ah, well... It be nice if we can get a leg up on this before we arrive. We’ll have to know the terrain. What we are working with and against so we can prepare for the worse.”

“Of course.” She smiled impishly. “I am sure the Duke will be willing to part with such intel if we ask politely.”

---

Location: Duke’s Villa - Ginaz Compound - Kaitain

It was just the two of them in the room, awaiting to be brought to the Duke. Garsiv was relaxed in the chair, scribbling down in his notebook. Lucina sat opposite him, poised and alert, watchful for the Duke’s aide to arrive.

There was something she whispered in which Garsiv couldn’t quite catch.

“Hmm?” He paused and looked to her.

“You’re drawing, aren’t you?” Her question came out as a statement.

Garsiv nodded.

The corner of Lucina’s lips twitched. She stood up and walked around and leant over his shoulder.

“Pretty... though the jaw line should be a bit more narrower there... A heart shape. Are my eyes really that large?”

Garsiv chuckled as he looked to her and shook his head. “Noted and yes, they really are.”

A pleased expression graced her face before reverting back to her more stoic look from a moment before.

“As for your query...” she whispered, indicating to the caption next to to the sketch. “...that is for you to work out.”

Lucina withdrew from him and returned to her seat. As she sat down, she resumed the exactly same position she had been in before. Her gaze shifted and met his. “Like so?”

“Ah-“ Garsiv glanced down and then back up and smiled. The perspective , lighting and angle matched. As close as humanly possible. “Like so. You couldn’t get more perfect.”

“Of course. I know.” She stated softly. Her eyes narrowed a fraction.

Garsiv paused, unsure whether to correct himself or not. He was about to say something when he caught her wink. Shaking his head, he set about correcting the proportions in the sketch.

​

TAG: @darthbernael

 

OOC: A combo with @Sinrebirth and @darthbernael

IC: Shamir and Ike
The Desert

Shamir gave a slow nod. This was good, this would be a definite blow to the Harkonnen war machine if it was successful. The spacing of them was to be noted, fear of the sandworm... the fools, they had no clue of its significance. If they could, in their greed, they would try to eradicate the wondrous creatures, such arrogance.

He gave a gesture for the three teams to move out, one for each harvester. The teams would each have thumper they would need to place by the harvester in order to attract the sandworm, eliminating any resisting that came their way.

The Sandworms and the Fremen working as one... defending their world.

Ike watched Waxer carefully, but was trying not to over-do it, because he had Tamalrx for that too, and they didn't just have the threats of their own crew to worry about. The other smugglers were just as cut-throat as the rest - Ike knew, he'd got a wicked scar on his left buttock running out of the bedchamber of the captains favourite.

A dry chuckle, at that.

The spice was being gathered, and Ike, who knew the specs of his ship as well as he knew the back of his palm, mentally calculated the time the vac would be running to see if he could work out if Gol was indeed skimming off more than they'd agreed for himself.

But mostly he looked for the Fremen.

For their inevitable ambush.

He trusted Fate to do that.

He found that believing Fate was a precocious, malevolent child simply meant he was ahead of the curve.

Shamir's teams moved out, using shadow and the natural flow of the dunes to hide their approaches to the three harvesters. Three members of each team moved separately, preparing their thumpers as others of the teams allowed the merest glances of their presence be seen, further away, as though they'd made a mistake in their approach, distraction techniques.

But even those were a double blind as the feeling of the thumpers being set reverberated in the sand. Which was when the sound of spring launched rockets racing into the sky echoed across the basin. The distraction teams were beginning their part of this battle, aiming to bring down the 'thopters or carryall. As Ike directed his crews, the sight of one then a second 'thopter dropping from the skies would fill his vision.

Hissing, Ike brandished his gun, looking for rocket positions nearby, to be aimed at his ship.

"Tamalrx, get your backside here, we've got Fremen -"

He thought he spied a shape in the sands, opened fire -

Shamir overviewed the forward most team, the one furthest from where they had their point of attack. The Fremen not carrying or setting the thumbers would provide covering fire in the form of crossbows and some maula pistols. His blue on blue eyes gleaming through the sandy desert air. With the thumpers set their work was done... anymore and it would be an unnecessary loss of Fremen life. The Worms would do the rest.

He gave the signal to retreat... shifting back through the way they came as best as they could. It was only a matter of time... the desert would swallow outsiders whole.

Ike turned and saw him through the sand-cloud.

Blue eyes gleaming.

He pointed his weapon and pulled the trigger, which clicked loudly - sand had jammed the mechanism! He shook the pistol aggressively. "Tamalrx, on me!"

He ran into the fray, drawing a charged-blade -

Shamir felt the harsh presence of one coming in with a blade, a rather foolish endeavor as the Fremen were not to be trifled with. Using the floating dust as a result of the movement and the harvesters he would pivot to come lunging from a seemingly impossible angle. Slightly behind the other man, Shamir made a lunging motion to stab at the man's side.

"Go!" he would bellow to his comrades after his attack after finding its mark or missed. They would know the gravity of his words, and the dangers of disobeying them. Any unnecessary deaths Shamir could not bear to live with.

Ike heard and felt the movement a moment before the blade nicked his side, just above his kidney. By the spice, that hurt.

He growled, swinging around towards the voice and slashing out at neck height -

He had no compunctions about killing.

Where the hell was his heavy?

Shamir would take a step back and lean out of the way from the impulse, pain-ridden attack from Ike. His head cocked as he viewed the rest of the Fremen began to pour away. The residual thumping from the thumpers resonating in the sand below. It would only be a matter of time until a sandworm appeared. Shamir would see the flash of blue on blue eyes that belonged to his immediate adversary. And this chipped away at his mind, the irritation of a Fremen betraying their people, to work so directly for the Harkonnens it was disgusting. Shamir would tighten the grip on his blade, his blue on blue eyes flashing once more as he barreled into the smaller man. Moving to grapple with Ike fully as Shamir's blade them came round to Ike's jugular. He could not allow such a traitor to exist.

TAG: @Sinrebirth @darthbernael