Science Fiction Drama Dune: The Between Years

IC: Espanza & Mudze
Ancient Imperial Testing Station
(Combo with @Mitth_Fisto)

Mudze stood, hands on hips, as the landing ramps came down. He waved to the young lord as he approached, gesturing around to the hangar and the rest of the facility. "Not bad, eh? This'll do nicer than the bullseye known as Arrakeen."

As Randolpho drew nearer, Mudze put a hand on the noble's shoulder. "I will make introductions in short order, but you should know, we've made a discovery. A fairly momentous one, of interest to your family." He gathered gravitas for a moment. "We've discovered the body of Duncan Idaho."

Smiling largely at his compatriot he came down the gangplank with arms wide as he received the warm welcome. That smile soon died. His arms stayed raised as he stood there. Somber, brooding in a sea of his own thoughts and feelings.

"Momentous. I do not think you know the meaning of this word." He simply stated as his arms dropped to his sides. No longer thinking about showing off how he was now 'properly' wearing the still-suite, or the happenstance alliance he had made with a group of Freemen. Pointing to the back, away from anything he saw as activity he hummed softly. "Somewhere private?" he asked.

Mudze nodded as they began to walk away from the group. "My friend, I don't understand. I thought you'd be overjoyed to give a swordsman of your house a proper burial?"

Espanza gestured largely as his mouth moved without making words for a moment. Then sighing he looked at him. "I just relocated our operation here, and you tell me not just a swordsman, but a legend in the making of our own time was found dead within that new home? I will be more overjoyed to give a proper burial if I know all his attackers are dead and that none will be coming here to finish the job or be satisfied with us instead." Reaching up he tugged at his own chin hairs as he tried to process this news beyond what he was able to articulate.

Mudze's shoulders slumped. "Due respect, my friend, if the sardaukar return - we're all aligned on this, correct? There's no use pretending it wasn't the sardaukar - then we're in trouble no matter what. But this time we have allies." He gestured to the teen behind him. "I found Duncan under a mountain of dead Imperial warriors, Espanza. If we make this friendship... and they all so respected Idaho..." He raised his eyebrows, hoping to cheer the man.

Nodding his head he muttered softly to himself before looking back up from checking his own shoes with his distracted eyes. “Yes, yes. We both made allies. How we will get this to function, ah forgive me. I don’t see much hope for success except we die as honorably.” This was going to be a rough one to survive. A rough one indeed.

Mudze allowed his aspect to fall. "My friend... let's bury your kinsman, and worry about the rest later. We have yet to see Sardaukar, here, but we know well the threat of the Moritani, the witches, and the other houses."

Espanza looked up from his shoes with a firm nod, "Yes. Yes we do." He nodded again reaching out a hand to clasp on Mudze's shoulder. "Thank you friend. We have a hero to bury, tales to tell, and hopefully enough provisions to make us hate the mornings light soundly tomorrow!" Smiling now he nodded as he reached up and pulled the nose piece of the suit out of his nostrils. "Not to mention we are all going to test these suits out on their limits. Hehe."

TAG: @darthbernael @Mitth_Fisto

IC: Thufir and Ike
Harkonnen Palace at Carthag
(Combo with @Sinrebirth and @darthbernael)

“...will join them, at Thufir’s request.”

Ike didn't like that, and wasn't too enamoured with the idea of being cut out of some of the discussion, but soldiers were soldiers. He simply demurred. "Of course, at Thufir's request. He is after all able to do so... regardless of your preferences to the contrary."

Befriending Thufir would get him into the room where it happens.

The sooner the better, and so if he could be accused of sucking-up, why not?

Thufir was frail, perhaps he would need support into the room with the na-Baron.

Ike smiled wanly, absently squeezing Trinnian's arm.

Thufir didn't want to concede any frailty to the young man, but all the same his health was fading and he needed assistance up the few steps. He processed for a moment. Perhaps it would be endearing? "Young man," Thufir smiled, "would you mind taking my hand up these stairs? I'm not quite myself today. I'd appreciate it."

Ike smiled inwardly, celebrating the victory. Careful not to seem too eager to detach from his bride to be, Ike moved up of course. "Definitely, my Lord and sir." He moved forward, disregarding the guard -

Trinnian held to Ike as long as she could before moving over to the Fenrings. She smiled at Ike as he joined Thufir, eyeing the Mentat and wondering what the cause was of the older man's apparent infirmity.

The guard sniffed, staying as far from Hasimir as possible. He eyed the two men, "The na-Baron will not be pleased, the initial meeting was to be just him and the House Mentat. But," he swallowed as Hasimir shifted slightly, "the Moritani are close allies so.." His eyes were locked on Hasimir, afraid to shift his focus, "please enter."

His hand turned the latch, opening the door so the two men could go in as Margo smiled softly, laying a hand on her husband's shoulder. "We shall wait until either the na-Baron or either of you admit us." Her lilting voice said as her eyes locked on Thufir's rheumy ones.

Thufir was speaking as he entered the darkened room beyond. "I know this was a meeting just for the two of us, Lord, but the Moritani boy is helping me up the stairs. He wanted to say hello before we cracked on with business. I'm eager to speak to you." The shaft of light from the doorway stretched out into the end of the dim space. Opulent. Hawat could not see it at the moment but he could hear the burbling of a fountain.

A low, rumbling chuckle came from the dim depths of the room. Slowly the glowglobes increased in illumination. The light revealed a larger room, a desk standing by a set of window covered in thick, blackout curtains. Standing by a fountain, the source of the noise that Thufir had heard was a large, broad man. His fingers trailed through the water as it cascaded from the upper pool of the fountain into the lower. Small droplets splashed from his hand onto the armored stillsuit he wore. The light shone off his bald head, his eyes in his small featured face turning toward the pair of men with a humored grin.

"Are you falling behind, Thufir? Is it past time for your meal?" he asked in a deep baritone, chuckling at his apparent humor, as though only he and Thufir understood what he meant by it. His gaze turned toward Ike, "The Moritani representative is it?"

Moving his hand from the water of the fountain he picked up a cloth from the desk, drying it. Tossing into an untidy heap on the floor by the fountain, "Water, such a commodity, worth almost as much if not more than the spice, here on this world. The filthy planet dwellers here pay for even the leavings of this towel."

He gestured at a nook by the door to the room, a table centered between four chairs making for a comfortable area to sit and speak. "You must have much to discuss to insert you into another Great House's business, even by 'assisting' our Mentat." His smile slowly turned predatory, "So...tell me Moritani, what is it that your House would desire from the Harkonnen here on Arrakis?"

Ike felt suddenly out of his depth.

A Great House... but he had to play hard, and fast.

In the last week he'd gone from ragtag spicerunner to Moritani... he could have it taken from him, he knew that, unless he took it from someone else. He smiled back, forcing a predatory edge to it.

"My lord, apart from wanting to become a Great House, allied with the Harkonnen, the greatest of those Houses, but who doesn't want that, I wonder?" He bowed, deeply. "I am at your service, my lord, in whatever way you see fit." His eyes flashed, and he flicked his eyelashes. "But primarily," his voice turned, softer. "The Mentat appears to require a personal aide, someone to defend his and your interests at all times. To be your hand and reach; one can never have too many tools, and useful ones are, inevitably, in the grand game, difficult to find."

"And even more difficult to find ones willing to prove themselves in the field of your choosing."

How many pompous prigs did Harkonnen have in their service without an ounce of military experience? Of the rough and tumble of the Spice Front?

A lot, he wagered.

Thufir smirked. The boy's ambition might be his undoing. "I feel we may find use in working closely, here." He coughed. "Perhaps we can discuss the young man's prospects in private. And yes, my Baron, I am... in need of something to eat."

Glossu's smile was thin lipped but cold as he walked over to the seating area. The light reflected more from his bald head as his attention returned to Ike, even as he responded to Thufir. "The young man has inserted himself as your aide. So I believe he's to be allowed an opportunity to carry out that duty."

Snorting as though at a joke he told only himself, his eyes shifted to the elderly Mentat, "After all, it wouldn't do to cause distrust with such allies, especialy when this one happens to be from the House of Assassins." His eyes shadowed as they narrowed, "And especially when the young man brings us another ally as well, in his fiance." The latter revealed, to a degree, the extent of the Harkonnen spy network inside the Residence.

Glossu picked up a small comm unit by the chair he'd chosen, the largest, most comfortable seat of course, spekaing softly into it. Glancing up, at Ike, "And you, young Moritani, would you prefer a similarly spicy dish to our Mentat?"

Glossu you idiot, Hawat thought, take my lead instead of this gloating, preening cruelty.

"Spicy." Hawat forced a chuckle. "Very humorous, my Lord. I do wonder at what business you have, and whether your uncle would approve of our friend here listening in. I'm sure he will be fine, but I would not make that decision for him."

This feels more dangerous than it did a moment ago.

Thufir was correcting Glossu? That didn't seem advisable.

And that information network... it moved faster than the spice could move a starship...

... he swallowed, not-quite audibly. "I would not want to displease your uncle, my Lord." An amenable tone. "But if a spicy meal is your wish for myself, then of course."

Rabban's attention shifted to Thufir, with an amused expression. He waved a hand lazily to the two men, directing them to sit in the two chairs opposite his.

"It is better that you get Thufir into a chair, he has been too long on his feet."

Glancing back at Thufir, he spoke swiftly into the comm, ording the food for the two men. When he finished, he set the unit aside. "My uncle handed the demi-fief of this planet to me, so it is mine to do with as I please, as long as the spice flows."

His attention turned back to Ike, smiling slightly more broadly, "Besides, as long as the discussion pertains to Arrakis itself the Moritani, our close allies, should be kept informed."

He looked upward, toward darker corners of the room as he mused, "And...I am certain that if we removed him from the conversation now his assassins would report the contents of it to him within minutes of it concluding. So, old Mentat, it is perhaps better that he be present and receive such information directly."

Thufir sighed. "You are of course, correct, my Lord." Ike helped him into a chair. "It must be my hunger getting the better of me."

Leaning against the arm rest, Thufir brightened. "Please, then, Lord Rabban, proceed. What is your business?"

Glancing at Ike with a wry twist of his lips, Rabban sat back, the chair creaking. "As you know, the Landsraad has taken to the Emperor's new command with a fervor. My uncle has decided, in his wisdom, to not accede to my request for more resources. Which has caused our efforts to mine the spice to suffer even more of a hit."

He gestured vaguely at Ike, "Add to that the other Houses having landed their own operations and Arrakis has become chaos. There are even reports of the Fremen entering the cities and directly fighting our patrols. What do you see in that pattern, Mentat?" His gaze swung to Ike, "Or what do you see, Legate of the House of assassins?"

Ike glowered. He didn't like the assassins being continually mentioned. "I see that we're losing the planet."

He had to be careful with the way he shaped these sentences. "Because the Houses aren't respecting your power."

"Ah," Thufir chuckled. "'We.' And then 'your.'" He watched Rabban closely. "The young man is fitting in nicely."

Glossu's head turned slowly toward Ike. His eyes were flat, even as he smiled. He nodded at both men's words before, while still looking at the young Moritani, speaking once more. "Yes, Thufir, he is." He chuckled, "Although his response is also the same as a pit fighter, that knows the battle could go either way and is hedging his bets to end on the winning side."

He snorted, "Arrakis will disabuse you of that notion, Moritani. Your House is aligned with mine and the savages here will not afford you to the time to convince them otherwise, should they come for you." He glanced, almost slyly at Thufir, "Nor will the Emperor, if he decides our fief is done here."

Ike smiled like a child with his hand caught in a jar of confectionary, and shrugged. "All is fair in love and war, and to gamble is to live, and to lose. If one does not put ones hand out, then one cannot receive. It is the expert player who knows how far to put out a limb..." The smile grew broader as he bowed to their host. "... or knows to push other hands into the fire first."

"So, shall I visit the Emperor on your behalf later, or now?"

He cut to the chase, hoping to amuse, rather than offend.

Glossu chuckled, shaking his head. The food was brought in and he kept his tongue while the servitors were present. Gesturing to the other two men, "Eat well." he said in tone that was surprisingly soft. "As to the Emperor, I have more chance of an audience in the days to come than you do and my chances are as close to none as is possible."

He glanced at Thufir, "After all, my supposed mismanagement, only following the orders my Uncle gave, is why he has allowed the other Houses to begin their own operations here."

Thufir nodded, eating more sloppily than he had usually been accustomed, so ravening was he for his cure. There was an opportunity here. "Let's not be too hard on your uncle. He only wants what's best." Tasting a hint of cinnamon, Thufir wondered how much was in the dish, and how much it would take to become helplessly addicted like his predecessor DeVries. "After all," Thufir gestured with his fork, "it seems he's learned from the challenges you've faced here. Why else bring your younger brother here?"

At that, Ike could detect a slyness behind the outward appearance of degradation that Thufir had seized upon... or he just ate this messily. He didn't wince, but he did smooth out his features, very intrigued as to what Glossu would say next, absently twirling some kind of gelatinous pasta around his fork, waiting for a sign from the shadows for poison, if any.

TAG: @darthbernael @Sinrebirth

 

OOC: This is a combo between me and @darthbernael thank you for your patience!

IC Aya-Carolina and Dyana
Ginaz Residence

Dyana was already moving as the assassins advanced. She’d grabbed a pan from the stove, brandishing it as a club, rounding the kitchen island. Two of the assassins threw daggers as she moved, one toward her, the other at Shamir. As theFedaykin blocked the dagger aimed at him, Dyana swung the pan, deflecting the dagger aimed at her. This caused the knock on effect of that dagger to tumble through the air and clip the young Fremen warrior on his temple, with its pommel.

He collapsed as unconsciousness claimed him, the liquid drop of his body lucky for him as a second dagger had been thrown behind the first and only lightly pierced his stillsuit, tip embedding in one rib. Dyana reached him just as he collapsed to the floor. Dropping the pan, she dragged him behind the kitchen island, fury in her eyes as she rounded the island again, now armed with a kitchen knife, picking up the dagger that had knocked Shamir out as she did, “Ya Hya Chouhada!” she called out, fire in her tone.

The third assassin smiled at the byplay, studying the third person in the room they’d entered. “A Sister, a shame you are attached to the Ginaz, but war is war.” he said softly, his hand moving swiftly, a pair of daggers now flying at her, aimed at her chest and her upper left thigh.

Aya had sensed that there was something going on and sprung into action right away. It was hard to ambush a trained Bene Gesserit, they knew how to sense the danger from the minute telltale signs, which were usually invisible for the normal people. They also received excellent martial training and were skilled warriors, who knew how to fend for themselves.

The attack was a bold move, someone desperately needed to take her out of the game before she could even make her opening moves. That was pretty curious. Another issue was that whoever had ordered the attack clearly underestimated the Sisterhood, or (which was more worrying) knew exactly what they were doing and this assassination attempt was just a sham (although the assassins probably did not know that).

This whole thought process took part while her body did its job of fending for herself. She focused on the knife flying towards her, Aya's brain was working so fast that it made the knife look as if flying in slow motion, which made her next actions simple. She simply managed to grab it just before it pierced her chest. If she were a fraction of a second too late, there would have been... fatal consequences.

Instinctively she grabbed it by the handle and sent it flying towards the man's foot, hoping to pin him. She needed a live prisoner to interrogate.

The assailant was a smart one as he had sent two daggers her way though. She had to prioritize the one flying towards her heart for the obvious reasons. That was probably what the man was hoping for. Aya barely had time to react so the dagger scraped her thigh. Wincing from the sudden pain, she would have to redirect a bit of energy to push it back.

The third assassin held back, eyes flicking from Dyana to Aya-Carolina, allowing the other two to battle the two women one on one. The first charged Dyana, arms thrusting and slicing in short sharp motions as Dyana blocked and parried with the kitchen knife and dagger she'd retrieved. Their feet and legs shifted form defensive stances to kicks; bruises beginning to form as each blocked the kicks with their own legs. It was almost an evenly balanced battle and the third assassin was mentally recording the battle, knowing that one of them, if any were defeated, needed to get the new information about Fremen battle tactics back to their headquarters.

The second assassin grinned as he saw the wound on Aya-Carolina's thigh. His foot moved quickly and the blade sliced the tip of his shoe as its tip slammed into the flooring, making the blade quiver. In a casual tone, "Well...your luck is only half true..." he mocked as he squatted quickly and his muscles stood out as he pulled the blade from the floor, by the handle. He moved warily closer to the Sister, dagger tips shifting as he did, "Don't worry, your skin won't turn orange, no elacca on the tip. But..."

The sliced soft shoed foot lashed out, towards Aya-Carolina's forward leg, in her stance, even as one blade used a similarly short slash to slice at the back of her forward hand.

Aya remained quiet, she needed to focus as she had already made one mistake and it had almost cost her mobility. Now she had to function at a diminished capacity as she would have to push back the pain. Focusing on the assailant, but keeping an eye for any other surprises she waited for him to strike. She was going to analyze his movements before coming up with an attack strategy.

The battle between Dyana and the assassin she faced raged on. A frown was on her face as blood from them both spilled on the floor, annoyance at the loss of body's water from them both. But their battle was slowing as they inflicted cuts on each other, almost in a race to see which of them would tire first and make the first true mistake.

The one facing Aya-Carolina circled her slowly, waiting as the poison worked it's way into her body. The way she was holding herself she was fighting the pain and the poison, trying to keep it from moving deeper inside her. Finally, knowing that by now the poison should have begun to invade her more fully, he stepped forward, slashing at her near arm, to inflict another wound and cause ven more poison to flood her system.

That was a rookie mistake on her part, but she had to choose between which organ was to be hit and the heart was ... slightly more important (to put it mildly) than her leg. The problem was now the diverted attention. If she had not received a Bene Gesserit training she was going to be dead by now. Luckily controlling the fluids in her body was one of the things she had been taught so she had slowed the poison's advance, giving her time to get rid of her attacker and then deal with the poison inside of her.

"It seems you are not as clever as you thought." she smirked and lunged for an attack. The man clearly was stalling in order for the poison to take effect, so her reasoning was two-fold either she would be able to finish him off right now or she would be able to provoke a reaction so that she could start analyzing his movements and then kill him.

Either scenario meant that her attacker was going to die. That was a certainty.

A growl of frustration came from the assassin, the Sister seemed to be more in control of her body than he'd anticipated. Her lunge caught him slightly off guard, making him spin as she knocked his lunging arm out of line, the blade dropping from his hand; realizing she'd hit a pressure point as his hand went numb.

His eyes narrowed, skidding to a stop and backing up a pace. Shaking his hand to regain feeling he switched his stance to bring his other arm forward. he darted forward, dropping and skidding across the floor, slicing at her lower calf as he went past her.

His surprise spoke volumes, the assassin had no idea how to deal with a Bene Gesserit, she was going to use that to her advantage. She would have to make a couple more attacks before she would make the killing blow.

A smart move, but this time she was more focused on what was going on so she managed to evade the slice, just barely, a bit of fabric got torn, but her skin remained intact.

She took a defensive position expecting his next move.

The assassin came back to his feet, shaking his head minutely, seeing that his attack had not caused more damage. His hand tingled as feeling began to return to it. Crouched before Aya-Carolina, he reached with that hand, cradling a third dagger by it's pommel as his hand slowly closed around it.

Her only warning was a slight tightening of his eyes as the one assassin, the observer, that had stayed out of either fight took the opportunity to fling a dagger at her spine, with her back to that third assassin.

Aya noticed the change in the expression and was quick to react and turned her head quickly to see the attack. She shifted her position in such a minimal way that it would be hard for the attacker to discern whether or not it would have been enough for her to stay safe. But she knew. Her mind was working so fast that the attack itself looked as if in slow motion. Hopefully the dagger's trajectory will be such that to hit the other assailant.

Even as the initial assassin facing Aya-Carolina caught the dagger in his gloved fingers and whipped it back at her, the one who had thrown it shrugged, then turned back to observe the battle between Dyana and the last asssassin. Bene Geserrit were known as excellent fighters so any attack as the luck of the draw. Even if they didn't kill this pair the data they could bring back would be invaluable, as well as the proof that they could invade the Ginaz residence at will.

After throwing the dagger, the assassin facing Aya-Carolina charged. He slashed at her leg again before going in to grapple her, trying to drag her to the ground. His hands closed on her wrists, knowing that the Sisters often had a hidden weapon, a poison needle so her hands would be the place to avoid at this close a range.

These people were toying with her! The gall! She had to contain the sudden flare of indignation. Much like fear, anger too was a mind-killer, albeit for different reasons. Either way she would have to deal with the assassins. This whole charade has gone for far too long.

The man in front of her actually surprised her as he charged. She managed to evade the slash but that was another feint and he grappled her. He even managed to hold her wrists. Smart move.

But at least she had her legs, so she decided to kick with her knee at the crotch...

TAG: @darthbernael

 

This is a combo with the GM. Thank you, Bernael.

IC: Sister Na'die, Kanti-Sokanon, Viscount Hundro Moritani, and Memnon, Earl of Thorvald

Location: House Thorvald, private port tarmac

Through the pulled lace threads at the front of her black veil, Sokanon regarded the elderly lout with an unmoved and unreadable expression, though for an instant she stiffened and stood back slightly from where the Viscount Moritani halted before Thorvald and his armed escort. Sokanon, yet took in the perimeter of the private port. Such a lush and profuse environment for a stale, bitter man as the Earl.

Hundro's arm tightened around Sokanon's waist. "She is not property, not even mine. She is a human being and is free to choose. I do believe she made her choice abundantly clear at the memorial last night." He said, coldly.

Memnon's smile stayed broad, "And yet, here I stand, with overwhelming numbers and say she will not leave Iypr."

Sokanon remained silent, but stepped forward, her gaze on Memnon. The black gauze in which she was draped, wafting in the gusty and shadows, giving her a wraith-like quality. As if the living canopy conspired, several bird calls pierced the quiet.

Hundro watched as Sokanon moved. His garments hid the raptor like tension in his form, the surrounding squad didn't hide their movements however as they smiled coldly at the Thorvald troops.

Memnon licked his lips as he watched Sokanon step forward, "She seems to have changed her mind, Moritani. And tell your dogs to stand down or I'll have them put down." He reached out to Sokanon as he mocked Hundro.

Yet she remained beyond his grasp.

The leer turned into a frown as Sokanon stayed out of his grasp. Memnon stepped forward, reaching out again, "You were wise to change your mind, now finish what you started... Sister." he said in a low tone.

Behind her, Hundro took a step forward, his fingers tapping on the leg of his uniform.

Sokanon put her right hand out to the side to stay Hundro. She stepped closer and caressed the elderly Thorvald's cheek. Leaning close, she whispered in his ear; her veiled left hand still caressed the Earl leathered neck. "Rest now, Memnon." She whispered and withdrew.

Hundro's fingers continued to drum his thigh, but in a different way, as Sokanon held out her hand. His expression was dark, but he trusted her, remaining where he stood, but ready for violence.

Memnon's leer returned as she stepped closer, before his features began to go slack. As her hand moved an almost breathy "You...witch..." escaped his lips as he crumpled to the pavement.

Weapons barrels came up in the troops behind him, pointing at Sokanon and the Moritani, "The Sister has killed Lord Thorvald!" An officer shouted. "Kill them all!"




Sokanon knelt. She beckoned one of his staff. "He's fainted." She said. "Exhausted from the ceremonies and work.!"

The Thorvald retainer slowly, cautiously approached, the weapons were still trained on the Moritani contingent. He knelt by her, reaching out a shaking hand, touching Memnon's throat to feel for a pulse. As he did, Hundro met the eyes of the officer who had shouted the command, glancing over the man's shoulder at the frigate. While the drama had played out with Memnon, the signal he'd given had been received. The Thorvald troops had their weapons pointed at him but panels had opened silently on the Moritani frigate and were aimed at the officer and his men.

Finally, the retainer nodded, looking at Sokanon, then at the officer. "Captain, stand down your men. Lord Thorvald is unconscious and has a thready pulse. Get the medics to remove him." The Captain let out a breath, "Arms down....Ummmm, Viscount...could you...ask the ship to do the same....The medics would be nervous...to work under the guns."

Hundro smiled a thin-lipped smile as he moved up by Sokanon but glanced up toward the bridge of the frigate, giving an almost imperceptible nod, the guns retracting back into the hull of the ship.

Sokanon smiled softly and slowly rose next to the Viscount. "Trying times, poor Earl Thorvald. Please give our hopes for his speedy recovery!" She said to the retainer.

The man nodded as the medics rushed over, did a quick examination to ensure that Memnon was, indeed, only unconscious, and then bundled him onto a stretcher. As the medics carried him away to the Residence's medical facility,

Hundro, his arm around Sokanon once more, approached the officer. "Our business is concluded here. Please, move your troops so that we may board our ship." His tone was more in the way of a command than asking as he stood before the man.

TAG: @Anedon, @darthbernael

 

IC Cassandra, Galina (Combo with @darthbernael)

Getting back into Galina´s office Cass grabbed the pieces of the dress around her shoulders and began tearing at it. She wouldn`t wear this any longer, suffer no further pain and humiliation today. Galina´s little 'game' sickened her to no end. This was a breach, a breach of the trust she believed had been build between them.

Galina had one eye on Cassandra as she moved behind the desk of her office. Sitting demurely, a half smile crossed her face as Cassandra removed the dress. "You cannot deny that the pleasure was equal to the pain, as you wore it, dear. And..." she waved the message cylinder after retrieving it from her cleavage. "while that man touched you, your writhing had the effect we desired. He has agreed to much better terms, for us, not my husband." she said, calmly, while waving the cylinder in Cassandra's direction.

"Great..." Cas muttered as she tore the remains of her dress from her body, she didn`t care she wasn`t wearing any underwear. She was far too angry for her nakedness to matter just one bit. All that was on her mind was, "so this was the whole reason? Making some old idiot horny so he would offer more?" She crossed her arms in front of her chest, "I have to ask, does he pay for our troops or because he wants me in his bed?"

Galina smirked slightly, "Some men are more perceptive than others." She tapped the message scroll on the desk, "Ezharian realized why you'd been brought without even saying. He even apologized to you." a light laugh came with that statement. "And has proposed something that will make us wealthy while still appearing to agree with Kimon."

Wealthy huh? Cassandra couldn`t help but think as her gaze wandered through Galina´s ellaborate office, each and every piece of furniture or tech in here was probably more expensive than what a common worker would earn through their entire life... "He appologized? Well won`t get him into my pants either..." she muttered loud enough for Galina to hear.

Galina stood, leaving the scroll on the desk for the moment. She walked up to Cassandra, feeling her stiffen as she took the other woman in her arms, "I would never have let him, dear."

"Do you promise it?" Cassandra looked at her, Galina´s charm was strong, but she was unsure if she could trust this woman ever again.

Galina nodded, "Absolutely, dear. Men truly are not for us." Her hands caressed Cassandra's back, as she looked into the other woman's eyes.

Cassandra returned the glance, then the hug, then she leaned forward a bit... I`ll go along Lina... for now, but I will get you back for this humiliation, so better keep that promise...

Galina smiled softly as she felt Cassandra press against her. Perhaps she should have warned her about the cream but she also enjoyed as her concubine had writhed around. Turning in the embrace, "Come, join me in the seat, as I compose a response to the Ezharian."

"Sure, but then... lets make this on even ground..." Cass said as she reached for the zipper of Galina´s dress.

Standing still, Galina allowed Cassandra to do as she wanted with her dress.

"I hope you locked the door," Cass joked as she threw Galina´s dress to the ground, admiring her lovers body.

Galina chuckled, "Do you think I would not do so?" she asked sweetly. Taking Cassandra's hand she led her back behind the desk. She sat and pulled Cassandra to sit across her. As she felt Cassandra move on her, "Now, how would my Cassandra answer the Ezharian?" she asked, pulling out a stylus.

"Dear, perverted, incompetend, creep... for a start at least?" Cassandra said, crossing her legs as she leaned onto her chair.

Galina laughed lightly, "Remember, dear, he was the one who realized the truth of what we were doing. And he played the game for Kimon's benefit." She trailed a finger down Cassandra's arm, before writing Lord Ezharian, to begin I applaud you for seeing through a simple deception, not many men see beyond the flesh, where it comes to women.

"Which is why in truth we girls rule the universe," Cass added, chuckling at what Galina had wrote so far. "But we do apperchiate men who see is as more than just the amount of naked skin we may display." She gently tickled Galina´s stomach.

Smiling at the tickle, Galina let her fingers continue to glide up and down Cassandra's arm as she continued writing, Your proposal is acceptable. So long as you never reveal to Kimon the true extent of the deal I will release the troops to assist your House. The account is accessible at the Guild Bank so once the initial deposit is made, I will send them.

Sensing her lovers enjoyment of it Cassandra continued to tickle, letting her fingers dance around Galina´s navel. "Maybe its best for us to demand some form of reassurance about him keeping your dumb husband in the dark." She suggested, "can`t let him eventually try to extort us with that fact..."

Lifting the stylus, Galina tapped it against her lips and then against Cassandra's mouth, as she thought. A sudden smile came to her face, the stylus dipping back to the scroll. You desire these troops to defend your daughter at Arrakis. I understand you have another daughter, almost the same age. In addition to the spice payments, to secure the contract, I would take her as my Lady's Maid, to learn from myself the mecessities of running a House.

"Hehehe," Cassandra chuckled, "will be nice to have a spoiled little noble girl around to do our chores..." ...and to have a potential ally in chase you turn on me again, dear Galina.

"It will, yes." Galina replied. She could see the small light that came to Cassandra's eyes and hid a small smile. Their relationship was a cat and mouse affair, each having their own desires in it and both having their moments of triumphs over the other but they did work better together than apart. Once the final term has been agreed, I will forward you the contract, and the troops will be released to you. Lady Galina, House Ordos she wrote, rolling the scroll and placing it in the message tube.

"Should work," Cass said looking at the final bits of the letter, "If he needs the troops as badly as he claims he will certainly agree..." She smiled. "Though I guess that ain`t the only troubles coming to us when we get involved on Arrakis."

Galina called her assistant in, who ignored the way the two women were seated, to retrieve the message cylinder. "Deliver it directly into Lord Ezharian's hands." The woman bowed, then departed, to fulfill her duty. Setting down the stylus, stroking Cassandra's arm again, "Arrakis is poison, is death for us all, for the Imperium, I fear. With the Emperor's new command I believe a new era of humanity is coming, one we will have to overcome, together." she said softly.

"Yes... together..." Cass muttered lovingly. Unless you try to backstab me once more, my dear....

Tag: @pashatemur

 

A rather hefty, yet satisfying mega-combo with the amazing, @Adalia-Durron & @darthbernael

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IC: Naveed & Taina
For better, for worse...

It was becoming pleasant, almost enjoyable as she relaxed a little and listened while sipping her beverage. It was light conversation, the kind you found at a formal function, dotted with moment of amusement and gentle laughter. Simply put, Taina was enjoying his company, she liked him. Suddenly they were interrupted once again, Aratt had returned and his words made her very uncomfortable. His implication was that the sietch wanted a 'display' from her. That felt very wrong, not to mention her physically exhausted state. Sitting and talking was her best right now and the very thought of exerting herself was almost distressing. Now finding herself being dragged, she turned to Naveed, "must we?" She asked honestly, "I am rather weary right now."

Naveed was pleasantly amused by Aratt's antics, but not so much when he almost broke an interior amenity. A slight warning look was all that was needed. Aratt's form had been good, but once again, being aware of one's surroundings was just as important as form and technique. Still, Naveed allowed himself to go along with the unexpected plan, because that was part of Fremen culture. 'Expect the unexpected'. 'Always be prepared'. This is how they survived. The enemy did not knock when he came to your doors, nor did he wait for you to be conveniently ready to receive him.

Taina's exhaustion was keenly palpable, she'd communicated as much to Naveed. He understood completely, so now it was up to him to satisfy both parties. Thankfully, he was already formulating a plan in his mind.

"Don't worry." He said to his 'wife'. "I got us covered."

He gave no details, but the momentary sly look on his face and the wink he gave her, indicated a plan was in the works. True, Taina couldn't know what he planned, if it included a 'performance' from her still. In this instance, the 'wife' would simply have to trust the 'husband'. This valuable lesson, this necessary trait, was never too early to practice between them.

"To the training salle!" He mock commanded, before laughing as he was pulled along.

She was in his world, she was in his care, Taina had little choice but to trust the smile, trust the wink and his words of affirmation. She understood the body language and knew instantly it was expected of her to do what was requested by him and she trusted he'd not push her too far. Taina feared her physical exhaustion may well cause her to be less than effective in anything at this point, but whatever was require, whether that be watching or participating, she'd do her best. "As you wish." Although she found no reason to laugh nor smile about it.

Aratt was slightly confused by Taina's response. He knew they'd only come from the nurses that morning but he was used to the fact that training or attacks could come at any time and you had to be ready. But she had just come here. Naveed's response though made him grin again, pulling both along as best he could.

The beads parted and then closed behind them as they headed down one of the tunnels, deeper into the sietch. Even here the air was dry, water sips embedded in the walls to catch any tiny bit of water in the air. Once out of the main living area of the sietch more and more would Taina see the warriors of the Fremen as they went about their business. It was almost unnoticeable but there seemed to be two castes of warriors, the regular Fremen and those like Naveed, the Fedaykin.

The latter watched the trio carefully, some beginning to follow as it became apparent, they were headed toward the training salle.

Naveed didn’t say much as they walk towards the training salle, as he was readying his mind for what would come next. Aratt’s enthusiasm was understandable, but he couldn’t let that distract him now, especially after noticing those who were beginning to follow them to the salle.

Naveed had a reputation as a warrior. Strength and success were silent invitations for continued ‘testing’ and contenders. Their enemies certainly knew a thing or two about this dynamic. Ironically enough, Naveed also welcomed this opportunity- for many reasons. A wry smile etched itself on his face, as he glanced at some of his more ‘ambitious’ brothers. They were good people. Strong people. Survivors.

Taina would see that Naveed’s expression had changed. He was neither dour, or easy going now, but had become ‘unreadable’, his body on the other hand, was relaxed, free of tension.

Upon entering the training salle, Naveed furtively glanced at the room, noticing who exactly was in attendance. A few faces did look familiar. The Fedaykin half chuckled, half-amused. In his mind, he knew news of this encounter would eventually travel to Stilgar.

He would make sure not to disappoint.

“Fremen! Brethren!” Naveed said, suddenly bursting into announcement.

“I just got back from the mission field not long ago. Me and my wife, that is….” With a hand, he gestured at Taina. He smiled towards here briefly, then gave her an appreciative nod.

“I’m tired. We’re tired….” he stated, while moving to one of the stations. “Yet, here we are.”

“I’ll admit, I’m feeling bit cornered.” He chuckled. “So, to make things fair, especially for first timers, I’ll use ‘hand-wraps’ and forego ‘bare knuckles’, hmmm?”

Naveed motioned with his head for Aratt to help him put on the aforementioned hand wraps, after speaking in a very Stilgar-esque manner just now.

“I can’t say things will go well for you.” He said gravely at his audience, but managed a quick wink at Aratt.

“To get to my wife, you’ll have to go through me first. Always.” A simple statement of fact.

Naveed gives a momentary grin to Aratt, after the hand wraps are checked twice. Then falls back to character. “Plus, I must also warn you……”

A small dramatic pause.

“I just had coffee……”

Naveed inclines his head slightly and offers a predatory grin, yet his posture, is still completely relaxed.

“Now. Who wants to go first?”

Naveed was certainly going to enjoy this, because he always did his best work under pressure.

Aratt grinned as he heard his mentor speak. He walked over to the table that held gear for training bouts, picking up the rolled wraps that one would cover one's hands with when fighting as Naveed had said. He glanced over at the Fedaykin and the other Fremen warriors, to see who would take up the challenge as he walked over to Naveed. Glancing up as he put one roll into a pouch for a moment, he began to wrap one of the older man's hands. "Bet you it's one of the non Fedaykin that take you up first." he said in a near whisper. "Winner makes coffee for a week?" he continued with a grin as he wrapped the hand tightly. When the last bit of the wrap was done and tucked into the rest of it, he glanced at it, "Flex your hand and see if it's right."

Having dutifully followed close, Taina was more confused at first as to why or what was happening. He'd said trust him, and interestingly enough to her, she did and had no idea why. Once there she listened to Naveed's declaration and a part of her did not quite understand the 'display' but his words inspired her to stand tall, something told her she needed to be somewhat appealing. Reaching behind her she pulled the long braid around and proceeded to undo it, shake her head and fluff the long tresses. Taina then folded her arms with her feet slightly apart, and watched her 'husband' with her best attempt at support and faith.

Naveed chuckled and scoffed simultaneously at Aratt. “Since when you get to make the rules?” He teased, amused that Aratt was attempting to get out of one of his duties.

Looking at the hand wraps and flexing his fingers, he nodded in satisfaction.

“That’s good.” He said, then gave his student a friendly fist bump on the shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, Naveed saw Taina undoing her braid. Surprised, Naveed fought his initial impulse, but couldn’t stop his raised eyebrow, then smoothly transitioned to putting on his ‘game face’.

Now he was going to need to send a bit of a message.

Walking to the ’sparring circle’, he didn’t wait for one of the more ‘eager’ contenders to approach.

“You.” He called on a non-Fedaykin. “Yes, you. Help me warm up. Let’s go.”

Turning to fully face his opponent, Naveed dropped into a standard fighting stance.

Aratt was stuck for a moment, once he'd finished assisting Naveed with the wraps. He should go stand with the other trainee Fedaykin but, at the same time, Taina was standing on her own. He glanced at her, the trainees, and then at Naveed. His expression firmed up before he went to stand beside Taina, spine straight, eyes challenging.

The warrior that Naveed had pointed out knew the Fedaykin lieutenant was one of the better trained warriors in the sietch but one never turned down a challenge. Stopping at the equipment table for a moment, he wrapped his own hands as he walked into the ring. Rolling his shoulders, he fell into a combat stance as he faced Naveed. "First fall, Naveed?" he asked as he studied the other man's stance and how his body was moving.

Watching all the actions before her Taina noted that Aratt's excitement was almost palpable and that gave her the understanding of how important this was. She'd have questions, but they were for later. Then a man stepped forward, and in moments he'd wrapped his hands similarly to Naveed, she assumed that was to reduce the potential damage they could do to each other. This intrigued her as she knew there were 'ways' to subdue an enemy with less violence but understood their ways as out here things were very different. She watched as he stepped before her husband, assuming a similar stance to him, and for a moment she worried Naveed would be hurt badly, but decided instantly her duty would be to care for him and she would do so.

Naveed seemed to give the other man's words a moment of consideration, his eyes never leaving him, just in case he attacked suddenly, since doing so was 'fair' the moment they stepped into the 'ring'.

"First to tap out." Naveed declared, denying the man the advantage of setting rules that were convenient to them.
Silently, he hoped Aratt was taking mental notes, despite his excitement.

The Fedaykin then beckoned his opponent with his left hand, inviting him to attack, even as he slowly stepped to the right, then swayed left.

Aratt could see the subtle tension in both Taina and Naveed, even if he didn't understand why. To him, Naveed was a warrior with very few peers or those that surpassed him. But he was watching every movement his mentor made, how he directed the fight before it even began. And knew this was as much for his benefit as it was for Taina or the battle itself.

Naveed's opponent watched as he moved, a small smile as his hands curled but open. He watched as Naveed swayed, waiting for an opening. He moved on what seemed to be slippered feet, almost silent, as he mirrored Naveed's movements. And then, without a sound and barely a whisper of what his intentions were, he stepped forward, spinning. As his torso turned, his closer hand sweeping toward Naveed’s brow, the foot that wasn't planted for the spin shot backward, towards Naveed's right kneecap, the true attack.

Naveed raised his guarding harm slightly higher in defense -to block the strike to his brow, even as he jumped in place, timing a 'jump kick' to his opponent's torso, while he was in mid-air, which allowed him to spoil the strike to his kneecap. This was why he had to keep training, keep his reflexes in top shape at all times.

The encounter was off to a good start, still, he did not smile, even though he was becoming excited. Naveed would remain focused and controlled. His opponent was clever, that much he could tell, which meant they both had something to teach and learn from each other.

Planting himself back on the floor, he encouraged his opponent to attack once more.

Naveed's opponent knew Naveed was faster, could anticipate his movements better but he wasn't fully prepared for the jump kick to his torso. He turned the stumble backward into a roll, coming to his feet again several long paces away. He used the momentum to spring forward again, rushing toward Naveed, swaying right to left as he approached, a swift combo of a right, left, then right again series of jabs. He kept light on his feet and swayed as he punched, knowing the flurry left him somewhat open to being hit in return.

Aratt watched excitedly as the fight continued, swaying and concentrating on Naveed's movements. At the jump kick he leaned toward Taina, "See...all those movements, that's a Fedaykin fighting with the new training." he whispered.

She'd watched and studied the movements as they were revealed, whilst intense and very strategic, she knew her way was much better. Having thought that, she knew it was not a skill that could be taught to these people, not in the way they believed it could. At Aratt's comment she gave a sage nod, not wishing to speak and interrupt the concentration Naveed was clearly using.

Naveed was about to give chase, to keep up the pressure on his opponent and land on him with a jumping elbow strike, but his opponent had good footwork and back-pedaled after the roll, enlarging the gap between them. This was also a trap, as he was close to the edge of the fighting ring.

Naveed let him come back in, he kept his arms guarding at mid level, to ‘encourage’ his opponent to strike him high. Naveed used upper body movement to evade the striking combination, but allowed closed ‘misses’, just so his opponent would be baited into thinking he had a chance to connect. The moment Naveed noticed his opponent’s eagerness and the repetition of the combo- he knew the opening was made.

Naveed countered with a powerful hitch kick to his opponent’s midsection, his intention was to kick the wind out of him so he could transition into a triangle choke, or see if his core strength was up to par. Either way, the encounter was turning out to be a good warm up for the both of them.

The man tightened his abdominal muscles as the kick came in. Still, it pushed him back a step with a loud exhalation of breath. Keeping his focus up, as he stepped back, he grabbed Naveed's ankle, pulling it toward him as he fell back, stretching the Fedaykin's legs wide.

Dropping the leg, he kicked up, aiming for the back of the calf, his free shoulder rolling as he centered himself, drawing a deep breath to fill his lungs once more.

He nodded to Naveed, then bent over coughing, the kick had hit him harder than he'd expected.

Naveed took the hit to his calf, as he was momentarily unbalanced when his opponent had trapped his ankle, robbing him of the opportunity of a follow-up strike. However, the hit to his opponent's core had the desired effect.

Naveed stepped back, after all, it was a sparring session. At a safe distance, he did pantomime clenching his opponent's head with both hands, then ramming it with his knee. That was strictly to demonstrate what one should do to an enemy in that position, but not to each other. Holding the head would prevent swaying and a miss, which would place the attacker in a vulnerable position. Naveed did not smile, but nodded respectfully as he waited for the his fellow fremen to either rise or tap-out.

He would stay focused on the encounter, bouncing lightly on his feet, arms raised in a guard position - as an example. One should not become distracted, but remain aware of the combat theatre at all times. Naveed found these exchanges served to strengthen the bonds between the fighting fremen, who grew to trust each other implicitly during battle. For they were all truly brothers.

Taina was mildly impressed, allowing a light smile as she watched and unsure of the feeling she was experiencing. She glanced around at those watching, their focus all on the two combatants as a slight frown creased her face. 'Was it pride she was feeling?'

Aratt was almost bouncing on his toes beside her. He had been still mimicking Naveed's movements, as though trying to memorize them for future use. He grinned as the Fremen warrior recovered his breath, but then stilled his face, the man was of his tribe and it would be wrong to make him feel humiliation because a teen thought he wasn't as good a warrior as he was.

Finally getting his breath back, the Fremen straightened, standing in a defensive stance once more before another cough escaped him. Nodding once more to Naveed he raised his left hand then brought it down, tapping his thigh twice. Straightening he bowed slightly, "Ya hya chouhada!" he said almost reverently. Backing slowly, he exited the ring.

Murmurs ran through the Fedaykin that stood to one side, the man had done well and a consensus was slowly gained that he be given an offer to join their ranks. The remainder stared almost placidly at Naveed as though expecting him to choose a fighter from their ranks next.

Naveed offered the departing challenger a nod of respect and encouragement. Indeed, he had done well and would progress to be a fierce warrior, Naveed had no doubt of that.

Here, he took a re-energizing breath. He was warmed up and hadn't spent too much energy, but now.....

Naveed turned and found the largest contender in the room, he then beckoned for him to step into the ring. His facial expression betrayed nothing, however. Within himself, he knew it was only right to do this, because 'out there', one had to be prepared to face both smaller and larger contenders in the battlefield. There was no 'cherry-picking' who or what one would be up against. It was best to be prepared for one and all situations. This was the way.

The gesture caught Taina by surprise. She'd been fascinated by the battle and techniques used but believed the 'dueling' was done.

Clearly, she was wrong.

Her own training had not allowed such pain to be inflicted and she found herself concerned for Naveed's health and wellbeing. Would she have to care for his 'broken' body? Was that really her main concern? She kept her expression strong and passive, merely raising an eyebrow as he gestured the larger opponent forward.

The larger Fremen smiled at the gesture. He squatted a few times to stretch, his muscles and sinews creaking slightly as he did. When he rolled his shoulders and made fists a couple times, they did the same. Sauntering over to the prep table he quickly wrapped his hands, opening and closing his fists again to make sure that the wraps were tight and not moving as he moved. Walking out into the ring, he stopped a couple paces from Naveed, bowing. His eyes flicked over to the side of the ring and a small smile crossed his face. He could tell that this display was as much training as it was showing Naveed's companion what the Fremen could do.

Rolling his shoulders he fell into a combat stance, hands curled but not yet into fists. "Have you brought us a new Sayyadina, Lieutenant?" he asked. The very slight harmonics in his voice would be familiar to Taina, possibly telling that he had a touch of the Voice. Beside her Aratt stirred, eyes almost narrowed as he looked at the bigger Fremen. "He's a beast..." came in an almost whisper from his mouth.

It was all Taina could to not react to what she'd just seen, heard and felt. The reference to her was obvious, but the tone and delivery of the words had taken her buy surprise. The mild arched brow had been replaced ever so briefly with a flash of widened eyes. A movement most would have missed as Aratt whispered beside her; his assessment was almost correct in her mind but a 'beast' an understatement.

Naveed never stopped bouncing around on his feet, as his large opponent approached, this 'beast'. He did return the respectful nod with open sincerity however, though he did not respond to the verbal taunt. He couldn’t allow the larger man to see it.

His opponent was a result of the new, a byproduct of Mua’Dib’s influence. He himself was a product of the old, a warrior forged under Naib Stilgar. Mua’Dib had stolen Chani from him. Stilgar had given him Taina. He was, and would always be, an oath-bound Fedaykin.

Naveed was the determined to make the best he could out of his fate.

The man's voice was 'strangely weird', which caused Naveed to box his own ears twice, to make them ring inside his head. This was, in his mind, a counter measure against being controlled.

He'd also noticed that his opponent had not made fists of his hands, but kept them open, curled in the way a grappler would. This was an interesting tell, despite the fact the larger man could technically form a fist in an instant. How fortunate then, that despite leading with his skills as a striker, Naveed was also quite versed at grappling.

A ghost of a smile, graced his countenance as he began to ‘dance’ around his opponent now, making it harder for the man to simply ‘grab’ him. Naveed shuffled in a counter clockwise direction and threw a few tentative jabs at the man's head, to probe his reflexes and footwork.

The larger Fremen chuckled as Naveed boxed his ears but nodded. He'd also seen the tiny widening of the woman's eyes, confirming what his assessment had been of the woman. Knowing how knowledgeable his opponent was he'd prepared so as to fight him in a different style than what Naveed tended to use in the ring.

As Naveed began to dance around him, he turned, just enough at at time to keep his opponent facing him. Using as little energy as possible, slowly speeding up his movements to match those of Naveed, he blocked most of the blows, smiling as he let a couple of the jabs through his guard, a small shine coming to the cheek he'd taken them on.

The last of the jabs, however, he grasped his opponent's wrist in a vice grip, hips shifting and swinging as he turned sharply, pulling on the arm, to use Naveed's own momentum against him. He didn't expect it to work fully but even if it didn't throw Naveed across the ring it would pull him into what would be next, a knee already rising toward where he expected his foe's solar plexus to be in moments.

Taina blinked in surprise; this man had training she recognised but it wasn't to the level she knew. It felt like cheating to her, but she believed that if Naveed to defeat any opponent he needed to know not all would play fair, or by his rules.

Naveed's opponent was both quick and strong for sure! In a blink, the Fedaykin's arm was grabbed and in that same instant, pulled forward and into a rising knee. Thankfully, Naveed also had quick reflexes. He not only allowed himself to go forward, he also dropped his centre of gravity, turning his trajectory into a tackle. His free arm came up, blocking the rising knee with his forearm and using his open palm to help turn his opponent clockwise as he fell on him. Certainly, standing on one leg would prove insufficient support against the weight and momentum that now barrelled on the larger man.

The standing confrontation would most likely result on a 'ground game'.

She'd lifted her hand instinctively, not wanting to react but doing so ever so briefly as she continued the movement, pretending to brush a wayward strand of hair from her face and running it over her head. Naveed's response sent a feeling of relief through her, although she did not express that at all.


The large man grinned as he grunted, at Naveed’s response. The spin caused by the block began to turn him, putting him slightly off balance. Moving swiftly, he trapped Naveed’s arm against his body as he turned his heel on the floor, turning the fall into a further pull. As he did, his head turned and he saw Taina moving her hand. His eyes narrowed slightly, before his back hit the training mat.

Pulling Naveed down on top of him, his free arm rose in a swift strike, the forearm hitting Naveed just below the temple as he wrapped his legs around his foe, lifting with his hips and shoulders. “Your…tame witch…doesn’t know the rules. If she interferes, I win the bout.” he stated in a tone both teasing and serious.

A grappler.

Naveed was not surprised by this, for it made sense that someone as large as his opponent would be thus skilled. Not only that, Naveed was known as a ’striker’, a fighter who did his best work on his feet. His opponent was doing his best to rob Naveed of his natural advantage.

The Fedaykin ignored his opponents comment and focused on their match. If Taina interfered, it would be by choice and not something that he would in reality be able to control, so in this instance, he would not prevent it. The real goal here was to train and simulate realistic encounters. Preventing assistance during an engagement would need to be specific- and not something he would ingrain in her, for that would be counterintuitive.

Losing a match, but living to fight another day was still a win. One should never fight by the 'enemies' rules. Ever.

As it was, Naveed understood that his opponent was quite skilled, as he had wrapped his legs around him from below and lifted his core to throw him off balance. Naveed had automatically turned his head to lessen the blow under his temple, but he had to act fast, otherwise he would risk getting locked in by his opponent’s triangle. Naveed went forward, getting his shoulders above his opponent’s knees and simultaneously pressed down, trapping both their arms as to prevent an arm-bar. He was not in the best position and needed to transition out to a more favourable escape solution. His opponent was naturally stronger, so the quicker he managed an escape, the better his chances to get back on his feet.

Naveed’s opponent smiled toothily at the manoeuvre. He’d heard that Naveed was quite talented, both on his feet as well as in the grapple, and this was showing that he was. His hips lowered some when Naveed pulled up and trapped his arms. With a grunt, he tightened his abdomen, pushing with his back muscles and hips. Pressing down, quickly, with his legs and feet he pushed upwards.

His biceps rippled as he felt scrapes form on his arms, ripping them from Naveed’s grasp, flexing and flipping. As they slammed onto the mat again, this time with him on top, he shifted, driving his kneecaps into Naveed’s underarms and digging into his shoulder joints. At the same time, he began to rain down blows on his head and abdomen, at the same time. The blood, from the scrapes, began to splatter the canvas, his blows speeding up even more as he began to use one of the weirding techniques, he’d been taught to anticipate Naveed’s defensive moves and out manoeuvre them.

Taina was not prepared to stop and therefore shame Naveed before, but that was before. This man was not playing fair and sure, a real fight would not be a fair one, but she’d already decided in a real fight, Naveed would have his own ‘cheat’ as it were, her. She’d seen the man’s moved and knew exactly what was happening, his earlier comments grated her now as she made her instant decision to act.

In the blink of an eye, a blur at best was seen as she moved from her position to be in front of the what she had already decided was an overly violent man with no regard for the skills nor the spirit of what was occurring. In the space of half a heartbeat, or less, she’d driven her knee into his face with all the force she could muster.

The grappler was good. No, more than good, he was a complete expert. Naveed found himself on the ground, pinned and mounted before he could summon a proper defence or counter. His opponent had made it nearly impossible for him to respond, leaving his head completely vulnerable to the blows as they rained down. Every time Naveed attempted to raise his hip, or get a leg up, a timely blow would impact with enough force to prevent that very action- this was completely uncanny. It was almost as if his opponent were somehow anticipating his move.

Still, Naveed was a Fedyakin- and Fedaykins didn’t ‘tap out’. They fought to the last, they found their way out of impossible situation, if possible. They trusted their skills, their commanders and their fellow combatants- for they all fought as one.

In that moment as he vainly attempted to raise himself and shake-off his mounted opponent, who was now focused on him, he too was surprised by what followed. Taina’s knee impacted against the man’s face, which resulted in a splendid ‘crack’.

Naveed reacted immediately turning his body so the man would be off-balance and unable to reach for Taina, even as he quickly moved to slip behind the larger man and position himself behind him. Naveed would wrap his arms around the man’s neck to ‘triangle choke’ him as he slowly moved back, spoiling any attempts at gaining any leverage and forcing him to focus on him and not Taina, leaving her free to either disengage or press her advantage.

Still, as an eye began to swell and close, he would be ready for any ‘tricks’.

Taina’s assistance was exceedingly timely, but he knew better than to claim victory until his opponent either tapped or blacked out.

The knee to his face rocked his head back, disorienting him for a moment. A growl began to form in his throat as he swiped one arm out at the one who’d simply appeared in front of him just before the hit. But, the growl died out as he felt Naveed turn them both, throwing him off center. His free hand shot out, palm to the mat as he shook his head, working out the slight confusion that had resulted from the knee to his face.

As he began to recover, he felt Naveed rotating around him, arm lock forming on his neck. He heaved his legs against the ground to slow the process of the choke hold as he fully returned to his senses, for now. One leg kicked out, where he could see, through the slight cloudiness to his vision, the woman standing before them. Reaching up, he could feel the quality of the lock but there were ways out of it, including…

He began to rub his forearms along the upper surface of Naveed’s forearm and bicep at his neck, the mix of blood and sweat coating those surfaces, creating lubrication to allow him to move his head more. A fiercely whispered “Witch…” came from him as he tried to get his chin tucked into the ‘pit’ of Naveed’s elbow with the aid of the lubrication. Otherwise, the choke hold would only tighten and tighten.

With the one leg kicking at the woman, he shifted one arm, forming the fingers into a bar and began to thrust those fingers at the nearer armpit, trying to hit the nerve cluster that was just under the surface there, blows slowly getting weaker.

Taina wasn't done, she stepped back after her attack, allowing her new husband to do what he does best and smiled faintly as he did so. She watched as the opponent attempted to kick at her, but she was way beyond his reach. Then she saw what he was doing, and if he succeeded, the fight would be on once again. She had seen the condition of Naveed's features and was unsure as to how much more he could take, and did not want to find that out. Stepping a little closer but staying out of reach she lowered her gaze to the man.

Using her skill of 'the voice', she spoke in a hypnotic tone. "You are tired, you want to sleep. Close your eyes." Her gaze intense, her words resonating.


Naveed gritted his teeth as sweat poured from the effort: He would not relent, he could not. If his opponent got loose, it would be all over. So, he held on and squeezed with all his might, making the triangle smaller, though his muscles were now burning. He felt the powerful jabs to his armpit. This man was an outstanding warrior, there was no denying it. Taina was the only reason he had regained any advantage and he would not allow it to be in vain. Naveed twisted his torso slightly, so the man wouldn't hit the same place twice, or as few times as possible. The surge of adrenalin had already peaked for both of them, or so he assumed. Thankfully, he felt it...the force of impact from his opponent's jabs slowly beginning to wane. Naveed felt his own strength fleeing from him, slowly, against his own will.

Both warriors were equally determined, of that there was no doubt. When strength was spent and techniques ran their course, it was raw will that remained.

Taina literally had become Naveed's his saving grace, in the sense that through her actions, she demonstrated her deep level of commitment, showed a glimpse of that fire inside her. She was all in. Naveed did not smile, he let that knowledge fuel his resolve, bolster his endurance. Together, they were far greater than alone. Their time in the desert had showed them that much.

He heard her speak then, using her 'voice'. Naveed had no idea if that would affect his opponent or not. He did not focus on Taina's action for he trusted her. His only focus was to choke this man- if it came to that- or wait to see if he would indeed 'tap-out'.

To have taken on the two of them- yeah- that was in itself, quite an impressive feat. regardless of the outcome, he needed to learn his opponent's name.

The man struggled, fighting the increasing strength of the choke hold around his neck. He was just beginning to get some traction against it when Taina spoke. A growl escaped his lips, and an almost whispered "Witch..." as the effects began to take hold. He was fighting the effects of the Voice as much as he could, but between it and Naveed's hold he was losing the battle. He was Fremen though and none of them would ever give up the fight until they were dead or incapacitated. Fighting with all he had, he jabbed weakly into Naveed's armpits until the hold slipped tighter, taking away his air. With one final attempt his body went limp in Naveed's arms.

Taina silently watched the man pass out, stepping back silently without a word. She may have crossed lines, but she never once considered her actions wrong, he was her husband and in any other situation, he'd have had her by his side.

Always.

To say that Naveed felt relieved as soon as his opponent went limp would be a tremendous understatement. The Fedaykin went slack, releasing his arms with an audible groan, even as the area under his armpit began to spasm and cramp, turning from a deep red to blue black from the bruising it had received. Naveed was too glad the encounter was over as he was now covered in a sheen of sweat- his breathing was slow and laboured.

After catching at least part of his breath, he finally trusted himself to move, unlatching himself from his incapacitated opponent. The Fedaykin immediately checked for the man’s breathing and his pulse, and was very relieved that they were strong. Opening his hand, he palmed the man several times on his face, until he roused back to consciousness.

“Welcome back brother.” Naveed said, rising then holding his arm out to help his former opponent to his feet.

“If I’m to learn from someone as skilled as you, then I guess I should at least know your name.”

Naveed’s eye had closed almost completely, but he seemed not to notice, as he nodded to the man and clasped his arm.

Internally, Naveed smiled - not only because he’d just had a worthy bout with a worthy opponent, but more so, because he’d acquired a secret weapon - one who would complete him in more ways than he could imagine. Now and until the end of his days.

The man shifted as the carefully applied slaps hit his face. With a groan, his eyes opened and he saw Naveed standing over him. Pushing up with one elbow, his other arm reached out, grasping Naveed's arm in a warrior's embrace, using the leverage to pull himself to his feet. He grinned at Naveed, glancing at Taina for a moment, before turning back to the Fedaykin lieutenant. "I am Zafim, it is my pleasure to have fought you." Snorting and glancing at Taina once more, "You have a formidable wife there, Naveed. And blessed by the Maker to have her at your side." His fingers grazed his throat, knowing it would be slightly swollen for a couple days. "That was the best duel I have had, in years."

Taina had expected to be chastised, possibly ostracized for her actions, she was mentally preparing for it as the man rose. Then he spoke and his words came as more than a surprise to her. Formidable? Blessed? Did that mean she'd acted appropriately? Did she dare to hope she'd not crossed lines? That was not for this man, Zafim to decided, no, this was a decision to be made by Naveed himself. She did not react, nor did she respond, she chose to wait.

"Brother, our time is coming, the time of the Fremen. Arrakis will be ours."

If you were to ask him, Naveed wouldn't know exactly why he'd spoken those words, but he'd simply say that he felt them to be true- to be real- like the breath in his nostrils.

Without hesitation he lifted Zafim's arm, declaring him the victor of the match. But in truth, they were all victors. Taina had demonstrated her skills in a single moment, which proved more than sufficient to the task. No doubt Stilgar would hear about it before he'd even get a chance to speak on it himself. More importantly, her heart and strength were now joined to that of the Fremen- not as a graft, but as someone who belonged.

Blessed be the Maker

He'd noticed her countenance, that she betrayed nothing- and that was inwardly pleasing to him. He would commend her on the first opportunity they had alone.

Additionally, Naveed certainly hoped that Aratt would be inspired in all counts, just like he himself had been inspired at his age.

"Zafim, Zafim!!"

Naveed began to chant, encouraging the others present to do the same.

He had watched Stilgar closely, how he carried himself, how he led. How he build-up the Fremen confidence by building-up individuals, then connecting them more closely to the whole, and so bolstering them all. Naveed had much to learn, had many other 'softer' skills to refine, as these were equally important and just as critical, as being able to do battle against their sworn enemy. Together, these were all necessary skills which were the key to their survival.

'A man's flesh is his own; the water belongs to the tribe'

Tag: @Adalia-Durron , @darthbernael

 

OOC: A combo between me and @darthbernael thank you!

IC: Aya Carolina, Dyana, Chiar
Ginaz Residence

These attackers were good! She gave an appreciative grunt to Dyana who managed to draw blood. Hopefully they would be able to finish them off, but it seems the assassins had reached the same conclusion and they decided to flee the scene.

Dyana followed them, the foolish girl, barging in on potential traps. There was smoke coming out of the hole and her companion returning with the news that the assassins were successful in escaping.

She noted the description that the woman gave to her. Good thing she too managed to have a look at the hilt of the dagger. She would have to study. The Bene Gesserit doubted that this was the crest of the true assailant. That would have been too easy. She will have to check on them as it was clear that someone was pointing her at their direction for some reason.

Dyana quickly made a visual assessment of Aya-Carolina, to ensure she wasn't further wounded. Once she had, she checked her own wounds, pulling out a wrap of linens, to bind hers. She picked up the pan, grinning at it, "Not a perfect weapon but it worked." she said, before taking it back to the kitchen. Returning to the main area of the room, she nodded to the Sister, "Once you're cleaned up, we should take what evidence we have to the Residence Manager, who is also Head of Security here."

Sitting on the arm of one of the couches of the room, she began to make a visual study of it, to determine the exact points the assassins had used to enter, the paths they had taken, as well as noting that there had to be extensive corridors behind the walls that had allowed the assassins entry. Her eyes narrowed at the thought, before she looked over at Aya-Carolina again, "Someone...in the House or connected to it must have been involved. Even the best assassins wouldn't know every square inch of this Residence well enough to know those secret passages as well as they seem to."

Aya noted Dyana's inspection "I am alright, we have to focus on the attackers." she noted then nodded about the pan "Anything can be a weapon." getting a bit irritated by these distractions. They had to learn everything possible about the attackers while the whole altercation was still fresh. "There is no time to waste." she said "We have to start the investigation right away."

"You should make a list of people who are trustworthy and who might not be." Aya said, good thing she was a Bene Gesserit and could conduct a proper interrogation, though she doubted the traitor would know much. They would probably have been paid off and would have had limited interaction, but still it was a potential lead.

Nodding, Dyana slung the pan to one of the loops of her stillsuit's belt. Patting it with a smile, she walked over to the desk of the room, taking out some paper and a pen that was there. She sat down, frowning in concentration as she wrote a pair of lists. It took her several minutes but when she was done, she returned to Aya-Carolina with the paper. On one side was the ones she considered trustworthy, including the Residence/Security manager, most of the security staff, and a good portion of the Residence staff. On the other was the remaining Security staff and Residence staff, as well as some personnel that were casual staff, only there infrequently. Notably, all the Fremen that worked at the Residence were on the trustworthy side of the list.

Aya gave an appreciative nod. Dyana had a good head on her, shame she had not been trained as a sister, she would have made a great addition to the Sisterhood. "I will keep that for now." she said simply "We will first go to the chief of security as you suggested." Aya did not say that she was going to test if he was being trustworthy, the list notwithstanding.

Turning, Dyana headed for the door to the chamber. "Very good idea. And then he can have this room searched, the entire Residence, to see how and where the assassins got in and past Security." She opened the door, peering up and down the hall before she stepped out. Turning toward the left, "Down this way, the offices are in a back area of the Residence."

As they walked down the hall, they passed several guards, most being Fremen. Subtle hand signs from Dyana had the men suddenly more alert, a pair falling in behind them as they headed for the offices. Glancing back at the two men, "I trust them with my life, they are Fremen from my own sietch." she told the Sister, seeing the skeptical look that hed been given when the men joined them.

Aya ignored the praise, it meant nothing to a Bene Gesserit, so she simply nodded. "That is the plan." she managed a small smile for reassurance. She needed to keep the girl on her side. "Although I will have to be present during the investigation to make sure they don't trample anything." she did not add that also she was going to look if anyone was trying to cover the tracks.

Aya noticed the hand signs and the change in the guards' attitude. Her reassurance did not mean as much as Dyana would have liked, but there was no point in antagonizing her. "Let's go then."

Soon they had passed from the upscale part of the Residence into the back corridors. The two guards remained with them as they walked. Dyana had nodded at Aya-Carolina’s insistence that she be present for the investigation but had mostly stayed silent.

She led the small group to a door set in the hall near what had to be the comms office for the Residence. In the distance the comms techs could be heard routing traffic for the building as she knocked on the door.

A deep, gruff voice came from within, “Come in.”

She opened the door, revealing the spartan office beyond, a tall, lean man sitting behind the desk. Stepping inside she nodded in respect, “Swordmaster Chiar, the Sister and I have something to report, an incursion by some foes. It may be best to let her describe what happened as I was mostly at the fringes of it, trying to stay alive.”

Turning back to Aya-Carolina she gestured for the woman to enter, the two guards planting themselves on either side of the doorframe outside the room. “She has a good head on her shoulders, even if Shamir was seriously wounded in the attack.”

Aya walked inside the room. She studied the Swordmaster. Interesting that no one else in the compound had even noticed that something had gone wrong and that there had been infiltrators. She was going to study that particular question as well. Aya gave a succinct account of what had transpired while maintaining her gaze on the man's face, checking his reactions to what has transpired.

Chiar listened, keeping an impassive expression on his face as the Bene Geserrit gave her report. When she concluded, he gave a single nod, "As I expected." he said calmly. "What I did not expect was that the infiltrators would attack where they did instead of the House Legate's suite." His blue within blue eyes almost glittered as he met Aya-Carolina's, "I, and my people, have known of those secret passages for some time now. And had left only two routes unguarded, one to your chambers and one to the Legate's chambers."

He sat back in his seat, the chair creaking as he did, "So my concern now, besides determining who these infiltrators are, is why they chose to attack where they did, rather than the 'bigger' target of the Legate."

Aya was surprised by that revelation, but kept her cool. There was more to this than she knew. A legate is a legitimate target and the question raised was an interesting one. If only they had managed to capture at least one alive. "I would have preferred that you informed me of these passages." she said coolly. "But that is beside the point right now." Aya conceded "I will be present during the investigation of these routes, I am sure your people will benefit by having someone with my training."

Chiar did nto respond to Aya-Carolina, not at first. Instead, his head turned, his deeply blue eyes regarding Dyana. She met his gaze levely, before giving one short, sharp nod. His head swivelled back to face the Sister. Responding as though he'd not ignored her, "Your assistance would be appreciated in this matter."

Standing suddenly, his lean, muscular shape evident in the tightness of the stillsuit he wore. He pressed a call stud on the desk, "Send Mahmet and Tiar." he spoke when the voice on the other end inquired what he needed.

Looking back up to Aya-Carolina, "My two best and, whether you care for their presence or not, you may consider them my right and left hands. They will meet you outside. I await the outcome of what you and they find."

Aya said nothing at Chiar's attempt of power play. There was no place for pettiness right now. This whole affair had a peculiar stench to it that she wanted to unravel. There were more layers to the plot that she had considered at first. It seems she had been placed right in the middle of a game that had already started, the rules of which were unfamiliar to her. As were the players.

"Of course." she gave a tight smile. Aya was also going to make a report for the Sisterhood as well. They needed to be made aware of the situation. She wondered what the Mother Superior's reaction will be. That way Aya would be able to gleam into the Sisterhood's role in the whole affair.

Aya rose up "I take it, our meeting is at an end then." she looked at Chiar "Best to start the investigation before the trail runs cold."

TAG: @darthbernael

 

A Combo with BobaMatt & Bernael!

IC Randolpho Espanza & Mudze & Chok
Imperial Testing Station

The young man who apparently was the sietch leader that Mudze had pointed out earlier approached. “What can I do for you now?” he asked.

Smilingy gently Randolpho nodded at the youth, "Yes! Tonight we bury our dead and share tales, where would be a good place for us to do so here? There will be much celebrating their memories by all who know of them, and all who love strong drink." he added with a knowing gaze.

Mudze smiled. "Yes, the boy should be able to help us. What can possibly be said to commemorate the death of one such as Idaho? We more not just him, but also our brothers among the Atreides."

Chok smiled as the two men treated him as an equal, not an awkward teenager. He looked around the hangar at all that was going on. "In the sietch we'd reclaim his water but it has been so long that isn't possible. What are the Atreides customs for a funeral. If it's a pyre, I know a hidden alcove not far from here that would keep that from being noticed by Harkonnen patrols. There are still some nonperishable food stores that could be opened to have a feast to celebrate his life, afterward, in one of the chambers here." his tone was slightly distant as he spoke, thinking about all what might be needed.

Randolpho smiled gently at the lad with a smile and a glance at Mudze, "That would be good, that would be good. We burn our hero's. Ashes to ashes, scatter them on the breeze over the troubled waters, and feast and drink to their memory as we regale each other with tales of how great they were! Sometimes we don't even lie about the small stuff." he added with a shrug.

Mudze clamped down on his impulse. "The Atreides inter their dead. In tombs, if possible, or under the ground. I've seen them. Beautiful, cut stone, on bluffs. To look at the corpse there's no water left - he's half a mummy by now. But we can do him the Atreides honor of putting his body in the ground. In Arrakeen, perhaps, if it's still safe. Unmarked. No need to draw attention."

Chok looked back and forth between the two men. It seemed odd that they differed in what they said were the funerary customs of their people but he supposed offworlders had customs that varied from world to world. They hadn't spent such time here that they understood the need of conservation of absolutely everything. He shrugged, it would be better the Fremen way but the body had been there so long that he knew it was past the reclamation point, at least in such a way to return the man to the tribe.

"Maybe...you and he should discuss which ritual you believe should be held. Either way I'm sure that we can do so. Taking him back to the city though..." he shivered. "If so, then please take a route that will not lead back to this place. The pigs are tricky and I do not want my home destroyed because of this."

Randolpho nodded with a sigh at the other man, "Of course, I wasn't thinking of the high borne born with gold in their cradles." With a shrug he looked back at the kid that was the landlord here, "No need. He should get the higher honor. Let us enshrine his body in a tomb, leave a mark with his body so that someday perhaps he can be recognized when this conflict is done someday. . .he will have to lie somewhere here. We cannot risk a body or taking him home, that will be later."

TAG: @darthbernael , @BobaMatt

 

IC: Sister Na'die, Kanti-Sokanon, Viscount Hundro Moritani, Lady Galina of House Ordos, and Sister Cassandra

Location: House Ordos, Ishkar


Her commitment had been made the day her father died. All of Sokanon's childhood lessons, the stories of the ancestors, the gathering of the people and their various journeys to a vast garden in the old world, all the spirits, the creation of the Universe, the wheel of return, her solo hunting and survival-to all these she listened in wrapped attention. Her eyes followed his gestures and movements, noting every small adjustment as his visage and body reflected subtly his feeling and sensing, what he meant to convey and what he did not "say." She was attuned exquisitely, because she loved him and she felt his love and care for her and for the people in the new world. But now the "Human Beings" were the immigrants.


They that claimed the new world did not live there, but came to gather resources and energy. Water, was chief among the "Zensunni Wanderers'" needs. The "Human Beings" came to live in harmony with the new world as they had in the one before the "White Walkers" came and destroyed the land, the old world, the only habitable world in a small and remote system. Dying, the world erupted in an impossible war where everyone lost. The "White Walkers", holding much of the world's wealth and a claim to an imagined superiority that lead to the impossible war, left early, leaving the husk of a once vital world to the other peoples. In the end, the Human Beings left the destroyed garden to burn and yield itself to the great "Wheel of Return."


Traveling a long and difficult path, her people found Rossak at great loss. This journey made the "Human Beings" appreciate all the more what had been lost to them and now was seemingly found.


Many centuries passed before the "Wanderers" came and swept down upon the "Human Beings" with knives and daggers, their wild blue eyes burning a soulless flame.


Her father had told her the Zensunni claimed their own grief and victimhood and thus felt righteous in their victimhood and therefore excused themselves for all manner of brutality just as had her own people. The early settlers eventually made a fragile peace that often the "Wanderers" broke sometimes only to train their warriors.


Yet the "Zensunni Wanderers'' were gone sometimes nearly a century before returning and each time there was war and talking and bloodshed. Though no bloodshed compared to that which the Imperium brought down upon them when the world was claimed-yes, once again, by the "White Walkers!" (Sokanon wondered that the name was taken from a popular story of far ranging fantasy and gore beloved at the dawn of a tumultuous time on Earth when the whites believed the colorful people sought to replace them. This was a common thread that continued to this day, this neurotic fever that seemed to be in the marrow of some that they must own and rule all or they would disappear and cease to be relevant.) What a sad existence!


Kanti-Sokanon trembled. The environmentals in the frigate were adjusting to prepare for their decoupling from the Heighliner. The last of the cooling air was expelled like condensing breath in a winter chill and it caused a momentary current. She watched as the current sent the tail end of the coiled message aloft before she snuffed the flame and char between her palms and brushed away the soot in a bowl for that purpose.


Escorted from stateroom to Iskar to conveyance and then House Ordos, Sokanon tapped out the gist of the Mother Suprerior's message and her concern upon Hundro's forearm as they were conveyed. It gave them no time to confer. But now he knew that Mohiam, Shaddam's Bene Gesserit oracle, had conveyed this information to Harishka. Surely the Emperor knew and depended upon this being the case! And surely, each Sister would see to the security of her charge should that have been an explicit charge or one understood. Though Sokanon had no specific mandate, she understood it to be so and she had decidedly become attached.


Time yielded them only a moment for a meaningful glance and a nod in understanding. Now, how to prepare...and what the scope and purpose if not to negate or indeed neutralize the power of the Bene Gesserit and thus remove any edge a house might have... Quell this disturbance. You are more than this instance! "A Human Being only loses choice when believing themselves robbed of it, my daughter!" She entered prana.


Now, standing in the presence of the two uncommonly beautiful women, Sister Nadie at once recognised in the bearing and comportment, a sister Bene Gesserit and the other women, Lady Galina, one proud and certain of her acumen and, yes, superiority. This was a pairing. Scent spoke volumes! Human Beings were well practiced in quiet stance and tracking, and Sokanon kept her hands beneath her veil, and gestures calm and poised. Owl and bear balanced her. Peripherally watching for a sign from the other Bene Gesserit, Sokanon took note of the lithesome sister standing next to the Lady.


TAG: @Mira Grau, @darthbernael

 

IC: Randolpho Espanza - A Combo with Darth Bernael
Imperial Testing Station

When morning dawned Randolpho was sitting bleary eyed as he stared at a small breakfast container of hydrated slush. Contemplating his life choices on coming to this world when an unexpected face joined the breakfast, Chok had rejoined them, from the quarters he shared with his siblings.

“As thanks and to show our appreciation, I know of a spice patch, not too distant, that should prove of high value to you. I can show you, if you wish.” Chok offered.

"Thank you. That will be appreciated. I'll have to check if the men are ready to work, a lot of them probably aren't as spry today." Randolpho replied with a weak smile, noting his own lethargy at the start of this new day.

Nodding, Chok smiled softly before he walked over to the table that held food and a coffee urn. He poured himself a cup, heaping his plate.

The team lead walked over to Randolpho, one hand rubbing his forehead, "Better get some coffee before he drains the urn, boss." he muttered, setting the mug of coffee he had down on the table. "And, did he say something about a rich spice patch?" he muttered, trying not to shake his head. "Doubt my team will be ready until almost noon."

Nodding at the man Espanza affirmed the comment about a spice patch, and accepted the delay in the men being ready. "If that is still a safe time to mine the spice, I think we cannot afford to pass it up." Pulling out a flask of what was definitely not coffee he took a small swig before putting it away. "If the kid is on the truth, he will have more than earned the rest of the coffee." he stated wry smirk at the man's concern.

The crew chief chuckled, "Most of this food is his, we haven't touched our stores yet but he's eating like he's not seen food in weeks." Hooking a thumb at the largest of their crew, "Last night, while we were all drinking he ate Akin under the table."

He glanced back at Randolpho, "I'll let the crew know and we'll enact strict water protocols, make sure they keep drinking, at that hour." Seeing Chok headed back with a heaping plate and his coffee, "I do hope he's right, we could use a good break."

"Good! Good." Chuckling at the chief's words he nodded at the returning lad, "Well, perhaps we should have Akin and our kind hosts checked by medical? Make sure neither of them has a tape worm or something! Eating Akin under the table and still a glutton for punishment the next morning?" Espanza shook his ruefully as he smiled happily at their host.

Seeing the smile Chok returned it. "To be fair I did see him put away about a third his bodyweight in alcohol before he challenged me."

He set the plate down on the table, sipping his coffee. Nodding politely at the chief, "When I show you where the spice is you'll have to be careful, it's near a large field of drum sand."

The chief nodded in return, the boy was young but the way these Fremen were he could have been in battle for a few years already and, given the signs of the place, he probably had fought here too, with his parents, against the Harkonnen. "And how do we know the Harkonnen do not know where it is?" trying to keep sharpness out of his tone, as he rubbed the back of his head.

Chok merely grinned in reply.

"We don't." Espanza cut in coldly. Laughing and foolery were good for moral and his own soul, but survival was better. "That is why we wait for later in the day when the men have recovered, I don't want to go in without everyone being sharp. For worms and Harkonnen."

Chok eyed Randolpho, digging into the mound of food. The man had a cunning mind and that was a good thing out here. Gesturing with his fork, doing so with the knife would have been bad, he thought, with hungover militaristic men, "You do have one thing going for you, someone showed you how to wear a stillsuit desert fashion. Which tells me some sietch thought enough of you to show you."

"Yes." he replied as his smile slipped back onto his face. "Anything special we need to prepare for this little oasis at the edge of the drum sands?" deflecting from who and how long he had known anything of the sort.

"Do you have thumpers?" Chok asked around a mouthful of food. "If not, then keep your spotters sharp, one step on the drum and...the worms...will come. Otherwise, it's relatively out of line of sight of most patrols and the pigs don't often go where it is."

Espanza looked at his crew chief, raised an questioning eyebrow. He was more the big picture kind of hired guy. "Understood." Hopefully they had whatever those things were. The words of often in regards to the pigs made him uneasy, but they couldn't afford to pass this up.

Catching the look from the boss the chief shrugged, "Sounds like something to draw sandworms away but I don't think we have any. I'll go see if any of our men who've been here longer know." With another nod at both Randolpho and Chok, he began to circulate the room, asking still hungover crew if they knew what the kid had been talking about.

Chok watched him walk off, "So, spotters for you then. My parents didn't leave any thumpers or I'd offer. Still will have to be fast, just the sound of your machines on the sand will eventually draw a worm."

"Unfortunately so, but we have the flyers to keep an eye. I like to stay up in one myself. Put me on rock or put me on the air. Sand is no place for a blade to dance." Espanza replied as he watched the chief make his rounds. "Nobody said this life was safe, and if they did they were a fool or a liar."

Polishing off the last of the food on his plate, Chok nodded, his blue within blue eyes bright, "Sounds almost like a true Fremen." He sipped from his coffee again before he suddenly glanced at the door, "Excuse me, I need to get breakfast to my sibs. When you're ready just knock on the door where we're staying."

"It'll not be until afternoon. I'll see you then." he nodded the young lad away. Well, this would be an interesting day. With that he rose and decided to see about settling his stomach with food to chase the hair of the dog through his system.

TAG: @darthbernael

 

OOC: Part I of a Combo with GM, @darthbernael, @Mira Grau, and @pashatemur (double post GM-approved)

IC: Sr. Cassandra, Lady Galina Ordos, Viscount Hundro Moritani and Sr. Na'die, Kanti-Sokanon
LOCATION: Ishkal, House Ordos, Lady Ordos’ study

Cassandra was a bit surprised to see another Bene Gesserit sister with the envoy. It had been quite a while since she had direct contact with another member of her sisterhood and it certainly wasn't something she enjoyed, when she talked to her sisters she could usually see the unspoken scolding, feel the mistrust and disdain in the other woman's scent and body language. And yet... as she looked at her sister, she wondered if she had seen her before. There was a memory, something in the back of her mind.

For a moment she gave them a pleasant smile, stretching herself a bit in her robe so her bare, toned stomach and her long muscular arms and legs would be emphasized. For a moment her smile grew into a grin as she remembered at how upset several of her sisters had been about how well 'endowed' they were developing, but Cassandra had never cared much about it, knowing that despite her rather modest bosom she had other qualities to draw in the eyes of men and women.

As she thought back to her youth for a moment, she remembered what she knew about this other sister. She didn't remember her name, but she had been quite a prankster in her youth, another troublemaker like Cass, which probably explained why they had never properly met, the sisters superior would have done their utmost to keep them from teaming up to cause even more mischief.

A second later she remembered the message in her hand and her first impulse was to try and hide it, but that would have drawn even more attention to it, so she kept it casually in her hand, as if it didn’t contain any sensible or secret information. Cass noticed that Galina easily followed her lead. She had fought hard with herself whether she should reveal the contents of the message to Galina, as she was still angry about Galina´s little stunt.

But ultimately she had decided that this was a message of greater importance and possible danger. And after what had happened to the Atreides, Cass wasn't one to take risks on a petty grudge. Her allegiance to the sisterhood didn't save sister Jessica in the end...

However, she had barely given Galina the news when the newcomers had entered. Any deeper discussion of the issue had to wait until a later time.

Instead, Cass now focused on her sister, the cylinder in her right hand. She used her left to sign, 'welcome sister, glad to see a pretty face amongst our guests for once.' It was an open message, more a jest than anything, but it was an opening that would allow her to test the waters and to see with whom she was dealing.

Galina looked up at the lithe, well-dressed man who had entered, the woman at his side she could see that Cassandra had recognized but one who caused one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows to arch, seeing the emblem of House Moritani tattooed on her abdomen. Her eyes flicked back to the man, realizing she could see the signs of a well capable man poised on the edge of violence.

Sitting back, one hand reached out, trailing down the outer curve of the nearer of Cassandra's thighs, a thin smile crossed her face. "Viscount Moritani...for shame. You and I both know, with the recent troubles that the Houses have faced, security must be paramount."

He snorted, glancing at the four guards with a keen eye before turning back to face Galina, his arm around Sokanon's waist tightening imperceptibly. "I do not question the need for guards." he began, before a similar smile to Galina's crossed his face, "Merely why guards of such....obvious quality are required."

The casual exchanges and discrete signaling conveyed in various shades an awareness that each of the four understood the threatening ruse of Shaddam IV’s “tools in fancy dress” of the House. Sokanon noted how the guards seemed burgeoning in their Ordos Uniforms. Arrogance was an occupational hazard these otherwise highly trained warriors could not avoid. Their checked menace was palpable in the intimate space of the Lady Ordos’ study and put a damper on the welcome meeting of a fellow Sister, especially one so storied a great warrior Sr. Cassandra. Her well-trained body proved the reputation true.

"Lady," said Sokanon,” addressing the Ordos noble woman and giving a slight bow to both Galina and Sr. Cassandra and in rising, to her fellow Bene Gesserit, a brief smiling glance and a tacit acknowledgement of Sister Cassandra's refreshing signalled and nuanced “words” of greeting. Sokanon replied in kind, ‘Well met, Sister! An honor to meet you and clearly an honor to us that four such fierce faces are required to “attend” us!’

Her eyes lowered, Sokanon observed that her long veil trailed the floor and rested on the boot of the guard to her right. An opportunity presented itself to acclimate the guards and test to what level of ‘fierceness’ the guards were wound.

Hip pressed to Hundro's thigh, Sakonan stretched inconspicuously to her right in hopes of giving Hundro a sign of her intention.

Cassandra kept a close eye on her fellow Bene Gesserit, but did her best to make it look like she was just checking her out, that wasn`t a fully lie of course, she would check out every attractive woman she came across. But internally she was unsure, it was clear her sister was preparing something, but so far she couldn`t be sure what it was, her skills at reading people had never been as good as that of most Bene Gesserit. So she prepared herself for everything, or at least tried to.

Galina's hand drifted under her desk, as she watched the byplay between the pair that had entered her office. Her hand rested lightly on the stock of the pellet thrower mounted on a swivel underneath the desk. Her other hand stroked Cassandra's side, tapping out in a code they'd worked out, 'Perpare to assist them, if violence occurs.'

Hundro felt Sokanon's hip against his, drawing a smile. He turned slightly, away from her, facing the pair opposite the two that she was baiting. He looked at ease but it was simply a ruse, his hands near his hips.

The guard whose boot Sokanon's veil landed on, his eyes flicked down to it, then back up to her. His eyes narrowed fractionally before returning to the same blank expression he'd held when they entered.

Hundro, still facing slightly away, let his lips quirk in a slight smile. "Your guards...Lady Ordos...seem calmer than most that come from your Academy."

She snorted, "Special training, Hundro dear. They have taken the...intensive course."

Aware of the cozeted meanings in the conversation, Sokanon’s eyes wandered to the floor where she was met with the quandary-the close space in which she, Hundro, and the Guards were arranged-a tight space in which to gain leverage. Sokanon began to think instinct was best, nothing flashy. Keep it simple! She felt the guard next to her sizing the situation. Not subtlely enough, he had noted her veil on his boot.

Sokanon looked up to take his gaze and then looking down, with a quick gesture that neared his dagger, she brushed her veil, tugging it from off his boot. "We appear to be a little close." She offered politely.-So she could get that close!-

Cassandra prepared herself for the inevitable outbreak of hostilities Galina had pointed her towards. She knew this wouldn't be easy, Sardaukar knew their craft and while she was wearing her personal shield, activating it would cause trouble. She needed to wait, wait until the last possible moment. For a moment she thought back to her childhood, her life amongst the other novice sisters, who had often called her more of a Sardaukar than a Bene Gesserit for her combat skills and lack of manners. Now she would see how true that assessment truly was.

"Flirting with the guards, sister?" She asked in a condescending voice, hoping that it would help distract the enemy from her plan just a little bit longer.

Augmented time, often the texture of dreams deepened the senses yet obscured them too. Perhaps it was the mind, over-stimulated by apprehension and travel. Though what she was experiencing felt like what in past history had been called 'déjà vu,' her sister's distraction much appreciated, echoing as if in a fevered spice dream, Sokanon braced herself for a possible draconian response from the guard.

Hundro leaned closer to the guard nearest him as he felt Sokanon move. The muscles of his arms moved, but otherwise, he simply seemed to be leaning away from whatever she was doing.

The guard, however, did react as Cassandra spoke. With a movement almost as fast as a sister when she was moving at her almost preturnatural speed, his arm moved, his gauntlet closing around Sokanon's wrist. "Apologies, Sister. I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself with such a blade." He said in a tone that apologized for nothing, his cold blue eyes finally meeting hers as he began to move her arm to sheath the dagger again.

"No, my apologies." She didn't fill out that sentence. Which would have gone something to the effect of "for not testing you further." Instead she said, "You are a well trained warrior. It would be good to feel so well guarded." This she said without the guile and warmth with which she could potently inflect 'The Voice.' These guards were indeed trained to meet a Bene Gesserit's "arsenal."

The piercing blue of the man's eyes revealed a lack of true sight. He saw but did not see! His gaze could not capture her, nor his coldness invade her.

"Keenomp, papaum uttah aabe manitou! Yeuo howan nessheteum manitou?!" She mused aloud as she regarded him. She did not give the meaning, "Warrior, you walk without spirit. Who took the spirit from you?!"

As the dagger settled back in the sheath the guard released his grasp on her wrist. His eyes remained locked on hers for a moment longer before his head turned away, "I do not accept praise from someone who travels wi.." The sentence was not completed before his counterpart let out a two toned whistle, making the guard straighten.

Hundro watched the byplay, knowing Sokanon was testing the guards. The speed of the man's movement alone spoke to all those present what he truly was. Which meant what happened in this meeting balanced on a razor's edge. He straightened from where he'd been leaning. The 'guard' may not have finished his sentence but he knew what the Sardaukar thought of him and his assassins. Which...he let his vision unfocus slightly, looking without looking and saw it, the miniscule twitch of an eyelet in the paneling of the ornate ceiling closing. His arm slipped around Sokanon's waist, "Yes, dear, formidable warriors indeed." He said in a low, almost flat tone.

Understanding through Hundro's particular touch, Celeste let herself be folded to his side. She had made her observations. Tellingly, the guard took her comment as a compliment! Nestled at Hundro's side she saw options as to next necessary moves as per everyone's present dispositions, but given Hundro's very definite clasping her to his side, he also had some of his own. She would follow his lead. Sokanon sought Cassandra's gaze, certain she understood, as well.

Cassandra had quietly watched the altercation, ready at each moment to step in should a fight break out. The moment having shown her both the strengths and weaknesses of the two elite soldiers in the room. And that her sister was not yet fully ready to begin a fight, that would be Hundro´s choice, so she fixated her senses on him, to notice any signs he might give on how to go on.

To keep the guise of a civilized conversation up she said, "let me properly introduce you to my Lady Galina of House Ordos. We truly did her a disservice ignoring her radiant beauty up to this point."

Galina smiled, stroking Cassandra's leg. She had watched as the Sister with Hundro had executed her little maneuver, making an appraisal of the woman. She'd expected nothing less than what Hundro had done, when he hadn't taken to violence. Nor had she been surprised at his glance when the situation ended. By this point she doubted there was a space in the Residence that his people hadn't studied.

As her almond shaped eyes sparkled, she leaned forward, her hand never leaving Cassandra's skin. "Thank you, my dear. Hundy and I are...old friends." She met his eyes as his head turned like a bird of prey, "That is what you call someone who you owe your life and a massive debt to, isn't it?" her tone was lilting and amused. Glancing up at Cassandra standing by her side, "He...personally removed an unworthy suitor who was vying for my hand, someone utterly vile." she explained. Turning back to face him, "What brings you to our home, if I may ask?"

His arm still tight around Sokanon's side, his fingers pressing in a specific rhythm, one that was a subtle message to her, ‘Expect violence from the guards soon’. He smiled at Galina's response and question. Bowing his head slightly. "First, our thanks for the warm welcome, Lady Ordos. Second," his eyes barely flickered toward the guards, "our Emperor has commanded me to tour the Imperium, to visit Houses both Great and Minor." A wry smile crossed his face, "Although I would prefer this visit be more fruitful than our last, to House Thorvald."

Cass prepared herself, flexing her muscles and thanking god that her short clothes wouldn`t hinder her in a fight at all. This was it, her against a Sardaukar, something she had always wondered about, now it would be tested, with her own life on the line. It both worried and weirdly excited her.

True to legend, the four Sardaukar were large and, despite the obscuring fabric and armor, their form, aura, and stance telegraphed their rigorous training and speed, well exhibited just now. Should Sokanon be concerned at his speed, the Sardaukar’s eyes, that blue in blue! Hundro signaled to expect violence. The melange-spice seemed to permeate all layers of this perplexing society.

“...laboratory synthesized...”


TAG: To be continued...

 

Continued from previous post...

OOC: Part II of a Combo with GM, @darthbernael, @Mira Grau, and @pashatemur (double post GM-approved)

IC: Sr. Cassandra, Lady Galina Ordos, Viscount Hundro Moritani and Sr. Na'die, Kanti-Sokanon
LOCATION: Ishkal, House Ordos, Lady Ordos’ study

Focus became Sokanon’s gravity, and heart matched breath.

Peh tah...Peh tah...Peh tah...

Time dilated.

Sokanon's advantage was in the guards' expectations of the Bene Gesserit "wierding way" but she would confound it. Her training was as an "aummenuhkesuenomoh" and her sparring partners had been many mature warriors and beasts. As a child, she had to outmaneuver them.

At the core of her training was her totem spirit and synchronicity with the environment. It was not only the reality of the fighter, but the illusion of permanence and the actuality of flow that comprised the warrior’s true “tools.”

Sokanon was slight enough to compromise their height and Bene Gesserit prana bindu gave her flexibility, providing strength and resilience. Through her yielding, moving in the direction of an attack, the Sardaukar-Ordos armor and helms impeding the guards’ movement, she would flow like water and silk, like fire!

The guard closest showed he was a slave to pride and bias. He was also brash and leaned upon his confidence. He was wary and held superstitions regarding the Bene Gesserit. Would he respond to "the voice"? If things came to a head as the energy in the room suggested, she would soon discover. Yet, she could sense conflict among the guards!

Surely, the Sardaukar gleaned she was the Viscount's concubine. They might try to leverage that and she would not let them acquire that advantage over Hundro, who she felt more and more had accounted for much of this situation, having already and often experienced Hundro's advanced and inventive "preparations."

Not wanting to draw attention where it might prove a disadvantage, Sokanon forced herself not to look at Hundro. It was best to reduce the appearance that she and Hundro were communicating, though she understood his clear warning of possible violence to come.

“...spice...” Peh tah...Peh tah...Peh tah...

Lady Galina and Sister Cassandra were less unknown factors than before this meeting, at least to Sokanon. The Lady Ordos revealed her need to prove her primacy by "leaving her scent on the tree," an intimate association with Hundro and his gallant extrication of the unwanted suitor. Sokanon hadn’t expected her own response to the revelation. Sokanon was concubine to the Viscount and their union was a gift of life that only increased her fierceness and focus.

Sister Cassandra, it was quite visible, was supremely toned and Sokanon recalled her stamina and prowess drew admiration within the rank and file of the Bene Gesserit. From their subtle comportment and their scent, Cassandra had cleaved to the Lady Ordos. Did she serve the House or the Lady?

“...So Shaddam created a run on spice, a punitive incentive to over-harvest the “rare necessity...” Peh tah...Peh tah...Peh tah...

She studied the details of the room, as it would be the landscape of whatever transpired next. About 5 by 8 meters, the study was set in three relatively cozy sections. Where they waited, the four guards closely flanking Hundro and Sokanon, stood Lady Ordos’ desk, a heavy piece of furniture, hiding Galina’s lower half and hands from view and atop the desk, to one side, sat a carved stone figure.

Fronting and facing the desk were two heavy, tall-backed armchairs to either corner of the desk. Standing to the side and slightly behind Galina was Cassandra. Behind Hundro and Sokanon was a relatively open area, and behind that, near the end of one long wall, the doors by which they had entered. Also, in the last third of the study, was a fireplace and lounges set at angles facing the warmth, a low table in between, a congenial space.

On the walls were sconces and pieces of rare and ancient art, one a carved relief made of what appeared to be wood and an ornate rack of old and intimidating swords, dull, but still useful-the Ordos were wealthy!

“...The guild controlled all business, and without it, businesses would fail, some worlds would starve, commodity futures would fail, and in particular, no matter the harvest, spice could not be transported ...” ...Peh...tah... ...Peh...tah... ...Peh...tah...

Iskar, a frigid planet, its water locked in ice, the palatial abode was comprised of thick walls. This study, being an interior, and thus fortified room, was absent of windows. Sokanon allowed her eyes to rise to the ceiling above Galina, noting the elaborate cornices and figures on the ceiling. It was a riot of garlands, scrolls, and floral pastiches in relief. Against the walls were several torcheres and‌ on the floor beneath their feet, thick hand loomed carpets with a pile so high, she had to adjust the placement‌ of her feet as they walked from stone floor to carpets across the length of the ostentatious study. It was a veritable theatre of wealth and power!

“... neither could the authority of the Padishah Emperor be maintained...” ...Peh...tah... ...Peh...tah... ...Peh...tah...

The furniture and people situated as they were, Hundro and Sokanon, hemmed in. Something in Hundro’s stance adjusted, an indication that an “unseen force” was present. If that was so, they needed to give that “force” the clearest means for accomplishing their offensive, and quickly. She took her veil in her fingers at her side prepared to use the seeming delicate and ephemeral covering to destabilizing advantage.

“...Shaddam IV was not going to allow his authority to waiver, only to grow...”...Peh...tah... ...Peh...tah... ...Peh...tah...

She made her next breath slow further. Was Lady Ordos complicit or the calm and prepared Cassandra? And Hundro? No! he would have said so when Sokanon had relayed the contents of Harishka’s message she’d earlier received. Why was Hundro put in this position, being, as he was, an asset in play for the Emperor? If these guards were “neutralized” what would the ramifications be? Would she and Hundro be or were they already on Shaddam’s “make-disappear list?”

“...the means of production...” ...Peh...tah... ...Peh...tah... ...Peh...tah...

Assumptions:

Hundro was not part of the Emperor’s scheme and this might be a means of controlling Hundro who was altogether too good at leadership, forecasting, and execution. Wasn’t it Shaddam’s ultimate insecurity that he would be superseded by younger talent. Even kinship did not save one, it was rumored, from such infractions of superior talent and success, the most recent example being the Atreides- What a horrible waste!-dooming the peoples of the Imperium to harsher and harsher existence for the sake of one man’s vanity! The ancient god, Saturn, ultimate cannibal, his mirror. However, Shaddam was mortal!

“...Control...” ...Peh...tah... ...Peh...tah... ...Peh tah...

Shaddam needed to subdue the Bene Gesserit and put them under his thumb, having already reduced the power of the Landsraad, setting the Houses in danger of unlawful violent conflict, nevermind that it had already happened on Arrakis!

“...the means...” ...Peh tah... Peh tah...Peh tah...

What remained was the guild! Sokanon nearly gasped. Such unopposed power in the hands of Padisha Emperor, Shaddam IV! The rumor and her thoughts that day on Kaitain threatened to distract her now. She smiled subtly and breathed again, sublimating her thoughts.

Peh tah...

Sokanon’s veil slipped to the floor and she along with it, lassoing the veil round the guard’s ankle and yanking in one fluid movement as she dove between the desk and armchair, grasping it as a shield to stand before the desk and Galina.

Hundro had shifted into a relaxed stance, that anyone but those close would think was relaxed at least. But, the moment Sokanon moved, he shifted to be out of her way, which brought him closer to the guard closest to him. A death's head grin that occupied his face was reflected in the guard's visor as his hands clamped on the kindjal and knife in the guard's belt.

The lasso of fabric from Sokanon's veil pulled the guard's foot forward, the sole of the boot skidding on the ground as she dove. His hand reached out, grabbing at the fabric of her wrap, the thin cloth tearing as her body continued to move forward, the fabric pulling away from her. Her movement, though, had caused what Hundro had been waiting for to fail, for that particular guard, at least.

Galina had seen the moment as both Sokanon and Hundro moved, her hand resting lightly on the pistol under the desk. She gave a sharp nod to Cassandra, freeing her to act just as four shigawire nooses had descended from hidden spots in the ceiling, three of the almost invisible loops settling around the necks of the three still standing guards. Just as they did, she fired, hitting the guard closest to Cassandra in the chest, as his hands rose to stop the now tightening loop of wire from choking him.

Cassandra had been preparing for this for several minutes now, and so her action came quick and decisive, she knew that in a fight like this, in close quarters with no use of shields, death came at any second and so the first, initial phase was the most important. So she quickly stepped ahead, past the guard Galina had shot. With one of the other currently 'occupied' with her fellow Bene Gesserit sister there were two more to worry about. Two men who now both grabbed for the nooses around their necks to keep on breathing. Cass quickly reached one of them, grabbing his clutched hands and twisting them around as hard as she could to make him let go of the only thing currently keeping him alive.

The Sardaukar was upon Sokanon like a big cat on a deer, but she had pulled the heavy high-backed chair down atop him and the act of grabbing it helped anchor her enough with its weight a counter to her body's direction of flight such that she turned in the air before landing to face upward, the thick, oaken chair coming down hard across his back.

Her free hand grasped the wrist of his knife-hand, which she anticipated, having ascertained earlier which that would be. He was large and had fallen with force upon her, but she dodged his lightening fast slash meant for her neck, before the fine cut to her shoulder could become a fatal wound.

The man's eyes were hard as he struggled against her, his knife hand inching across her shoulder, now attempting to cut the blade deeper into the muscle and her joint below. His other hand tried to grapple with her wrist, but the combination of the blood that came from the slash he'd already given her as well as the heat of the room drawing sweat to her skin, his hand was slipping. "Damned witch!" he cursed in a near whisper as his legs shifted, pushing up as he tried to shift the chair off of his back.

Sokanon's knees swiftly drew into akimbo to block his legs, hold his hips between her thighs to keep him from gaining leverage while her feet pressed the ground. She would not avoid a deeper cut, but as the knife cut slowly further and she winced, she pressed down upon the floor, the pain bracing her core the more and the burst of energy allowing her to flip him on his back, blood from her wound spurting into his face. She fixed her fist flat against the far side of the ugly blade , the other hand over and around his hand on the bloody pommel. She turned it with a deep penetrating growl and plunged the blade down to his chest with the force increased through gravity and the spring of her feet, thighs, and knees as she threw herself over his head driving the knife in his flesh as all her weight was above him twisting around to face the arrogant Sardaukar. Her chest heaved as sweat falling from her brow to splashed and laced the blood on his face now drizzling down to his ears and neck, the floor beneath him appearing that of a slaughterhouse pooling with her blood!

Having hit the desk, her knees pulled in, one landing with shooting pain as it rammed his face, she, growling ferally. She had to use this moment to incapacitate or kill him or she would not survive and more importantly, neither would her child. Letting go of the dagger was not an option and thus neither was the use of the gom jabbar!

The Sardaukar was fighting, struggling, an animal caught in a deadly trap, but a strong animal, a dangerous being. Even in his seeming helplessness he frightened Cassandra, she knew that she needed to take care of the other Sardaukar still left alone in the room, but, turning her back on this one, even in his current state, was a risk, a risk that could end deadly for her. Yet she had no real choice, she turned her back, then moved quickly to get into striking distance with the final enemy.

Galina remained seated, her hand on the blaster, turning it toward the last Sardaukar that was struggling with the noose around his neck. Cassandra was almost upon him but she didn’t want to hit her precious concubine. A frown crossed her face, glancing back over to where Hundro had released the one he’d been holding, the wire thin noose around the Sardaukar’s neck beginning to dig into his skin. Sokanon, she could tell, would be in serious need of the medics when, if, they escaped this situation. So many thoughts were going through her mind, which should she assist, which one would give her the best return of investment to assist was more her calculation.

The door by which Hundro and Sokanon had entered slammed open, the locks that should have secured it glowing, from intense heat. A cloaked guard, rank tabs of an officer on his shoulders, the seemingly inborn arrogance of the Sardaukar on his face, strode through the opening, a half dozen more guards behind him.

As Hundro turned to face the man, light on his feet, prepared for any violence, Galina’s eyes widened, seeing the hazy edge around the man, indicating an active shield. His eyes swept the room, a frown forming on his face. Before even the master assassin could move, the man’s hand flashed to his belt then across the assembled people in the room. Silence fell as lion head pommeled daggers seemed to appear in the chests of all four of the guards that had been in the room.

In a cold, flat voice, the man spoke over his shoulder, “Were my instructions not clear? No one, under the Emperor’s penalty, was to touch or threaten the Viscount or his Bene Gesserit. In direct disobedience, these four have done more than that.”

Stepping further into the room he swept his cloak from his shoulders, “Medic, see to the injured sister, now. Then tie my cloak around her as a robe, so she is clothed.” Bowing to Hundro first, Galina second, “The Emperor commanded that any attempt on the Viscount be met with the death penalty. These four have paid. Once the medic has finished, I will have my men retire and leave you four in peace.” he said stiffly, as he straightened from the bow.

The medic came into the room, immediately beginning to triage Sokanon as Hundro moved close to her. Galina stood, moving around the desk, until she stood beside Cassandra, “Your prompt appearance and your tact is noted, Captain.” she told the officer. “Remove the bodies when you and your men retire.”

A moment before, as much as she eschewed pride as a distraction, Sokanon would not leave herself any more prey to her opponent than he would to her. Though he had risen to a seated position, he had not rested her hands from his own dagger which she had lodged and turned under his clavicle.

Aware of movement and noise behind her, Sokanon was locked in battle. Nonetheless, the Sardaukar had struck her deep wound and succeeded in throwing Sokanon down to the floor. Drawing her knees back, she kicked him in the ribs. He lurched forward. That seemed too easy! As the dark edges of her vision closed in, she thought she saw two daggers in his chest before he fell upon her.


Cassandra said nothing for a moment, events had, once more, progressed far quicker than expected. A small part of her was even a little bit disapointed that she had been denied a real fight with a Sardaukar, but as things stood these days that was probably just a matter of time. But for now she gave the Captain a polite bow, "my thanks as well to you officer."

Then she turned to Galina, knowing that she would undoubtedly have some revelations once the soldiers had left the room again.


TAG: @darthbernael, @Mira Grau, all others

 

OOC: A combo between me and @darthbernael thank you for your patience!

IC: Aya Carolina
Ginaz Residence

Aya was curious about the two spies, that was what they were, sent to follow her every move. She found it interesting that they were too obvious about that. Were they really there to help her or hinder her? That remained to be seen.

She paused for a second to observe the Ginaz officer. She did not like him, nor were her place to do that. Although she wondered what he was going to talk about with Chiar. Especially at the wake of the attack.

Once back at the crime scene she shifted her focus to looking for clues and leftover pieces that could help her get a clear picture. The knock on the door was a curious one. One of the other sisters wanted to see her. Aya sidestepped the guards and headed for the door. She did not want any of them to do that. It was an initiate. Probably a messenger. She gave a small nod to the younger sister and took the offered cylinder.

When she came back inside she cocked an eyebrow at the question. The gall. "I am afraid it is Sisterhood business." she said dourly not revealing whether or not it was the truth.

The senior of the two Fremen men glanced over to Dyana, an eyebrow raised.

She smiled softly, "If the Sister wishes to not tell us, that is her perogative."

With a grunt he turned back to the other man, "Back to work then." he said with a shrug. Both walked over to the tapestry that had been the escape route of the assassins, noting it because of how it was still askew. One headed into the tunnels, checking where it split as the other checked the tapestry itself.

When the second returned the first opened the palm he'd closed when he studied the back of the tapestry. It was the second one's turn to grunt as he saw what was there. Shaking his head, the two men began to search any of the pieces of moveable furniture or items. "Bugs." The senior one said flatly when Dyana asked him what they were searching for, holding out the sliver of metal he'd found to her.

She took it, bringing it over to Aya-Carolina, "This isn't something the Fremen use and I don't recognize its make from what are in the stores of this Residence."

Sister,

Beware the new troops that have taken station in the House Residence, they are not household troops. They are beholden alone to the Emperor, and have been conditioned to resist our abilities. I leave it to your discretion whether to warn those closest to you.

Reverend Mother Superior Harishka

Aya's face remained unchanged as she read the message. That was bad news, she would have to consider carefully who to warn. Dyana maybe? She seemed trustworthy enough and with the ability to move around the residence. She could hear and see things Aya could not. The problem was that her being a Fremen meant that her loyalties will be split and that could cause problems.

Although, if she warned her, she could use her and see what the young woman would do. Will she notify the Fremen and how they would react? She would have to run those scenarios in her head and choose a proper course of action.

But first things first, she walked towards the two men as they showed her the piece of metal. Aya was not surprised that there were bugs in the room, but the fact that the guards did not recognize the make "Do you have anyone in the residence who is familiar with this kind of technology?"

The senior of the two investigators nodded at the Bene Geserrit's question. "Chiar has spent time among the Swordmasters of the Ginaz, offworld, and has said that part of the training he received there was in the identification of spy devices."

Dyana smiled at the response, having felt that Aya-Carolina wasn't the most impressed with the Residence Manager. But, then again, as a Sister, she doubted that Aya-Carolina would be impressed with just about any being that wasn't part of the Sisterhood. "He's a bit rough around the edges, but he is a good man, on this I swear."

Aya nodded to the response. This was a start. "As long as he can be of use I do not care about niceties." she stated flatly. "Find if there any more of these and we should investigate the passage." Aya added. They needed to find who the producer of these devices was, maybe that would give them a clue as who planted them.

The two investigators nodded, one handing Dyana the bug they'd found, which swiftly disappeared into a pouch. The junior of the two retrieved a glowglobe, setting it to follow just behind them at a low light intensity that wouldn't diminish their night vision once their eyes adapted but would help them see ahead for any traps left by the assassins.

Entering the passageway, it quickly branched left and right, heading along behind the various rooms that dotted the corridor that Aya-Carolina's room was a part of. There wasn't much in the ay of dust which showed that it was regularly swept, both for cleanliness as well as to be sure of security. The walls were plain and bare, stone and mortar. Every so often, along the pathway, there were opening, ones that led to the other rooms. The senior investigator grunted, elbowing the junior softly as he looked at the floor.

Lifting his gaze, he turned his head to face the Bene Geserrit, "Blood trail leads to the right, there is no splatter or footprints to the left, your choice which direction we investigate first."

Aya considered the options. The assailants were very professional, so the obvious answer might not be the right one. Better to cover both alternatives. "We should split up. Dyana will go to the right along with your companion." she nodded towards the younger guard "And you and me, we are going to check the left one."

TAG: @darthbernael

 

IC: Randolpho Espanza - A Combo with Darth Bernael
The deep desert, northwest of Arrakeen

Flying out over the desert to their new spice trove proved to not be as much of the secret that the kid thought it was or if it was it was for all the bad reasons. It had been hard not to laugh at the boys discomfort on the flight here, but now that they were here and mining there was no help but to notice this place didn't feel safe. Not that Dunes ever felt save, but this felt more imminent. Maybe this was the wrong mercenary job to take for his house. He could be home watching waves crashing on the shore and involved in just some minor houses petty dispute right now, but no, he chased the pay day.

Flicking an instrument he opened a direct channel. "Can we get someone to clear the spire and use it as an overwatch station? Having a stable lookout might draw less attention and better see competition inbound.

One of the larger ornithopters dipped its wings before they began to beat harder, climbing and circling the large peak. The wings cupped the air, the ornithopter rearing like a hovering dragonfly, before four of the Randolpho’s crew descended ropes to the peak. The thopter tilted forward, flying away from the peak, then returned to circling and keeping eyes out for wormsign.

A couple moments later the radio crackled, “Boss…we’re not alone up here.” The crew on the peak had called in, the voice slightly shaky. “You did say we’re in good with the Fremen, right? Do you remember the sietch that helped us earlier because I really need to know…now. I’d rather not die.”

"Uh, shouldn't be surprised. I guess." Pinching the bridge of his nose he began muttering names under his breath. "Freemen, brother, cog or mother, stand by sand, I by water, find a hand. . .over still-suit can. . .can over still-suit -" ceasing his muttering he spoke up loudly into the mic. "COSS! It was Coss. I'm coming down, let them know that."

Angling his ornithopter toward the same spot he motioned for the back up pilot to come take over. "Do you want to rope down kid? Or do you want to stay up here for now?" Randolpho asked with a concerned look. He wasn't trying to pawn the kid off or nothing, but this was a chance for the kid to reconnect with his own peoples. Hopefully an allied tribe.

The squad leader responded in the affirmative at Randolpho's message.

At the offer of joining Randolpho on the surface Chok nodded quickly. "I do not know how you people stand this constant movement and high vantage." he muttered. "Hopefully I can help you too, with the others." He began to double check his stillsuit to be sure it was sealed, ready for when they stepped out of the thopter.

Randolpho chuckled at that, "You should experience an Ocean sometime, steady rocks are more treacherous after living on the waves." With a spreading grin he made sure the thopter would be perched well before checking his own suit and leaving to see what this was all going to be about.

Chok shuddered at the thought of what an ocean might be. He'd never seen water in any great quantity, at least not that he'd admit to any non-Fremen. But the thought of his world finally more a paradise was the dream of all Fremen, to even see water fall from the sky was almost a holy experience.

Nodding, he waited for the thopter to land so he could step forth and see who or from what sietch these Fremen hailed.

Nodding once the thopter was down and seeing that the kid was ready he carefully set the nose plugs before opening the hatch and walking out onto the spire. Arms held slightly out, palms empty. Waiting to speak off of what he was going to see with the team and of those that were waiting with them.

Fully prepared by the time the thopter touched the spire, Chok shadowed Randolpho as they departed the ship. He stayed near the man, the fate of his tiny 'sietch' was in the hands of the man and his people, as it was only himself and his siblings. The dust was settling from the beat of the thopter's wings, even this high, in this craggy peak, there was the everpresent dust of the planet.

Outside the radi of the thopter's wings crouched the team the spotter thopter had dropped. Interspersed among them were, in the settling dust, shadowy figures, cloaked, who stood near each of the four men that had been set as the spotter crew. The man who had called Randolpho sat near the communicator, hands on his lap, a man directly behind him, deepset blue eyes looking directly at Randolpho.

"Why are you here, city dweller? The spice is here so there is that but why here in particular?" the man's voice came out in a low, flat tone.

With a wider armed shrug he decided to just play it straight, that had seemed to work best so far with these people anyway. "We had warnings the city rulers would not keep us of House Ginaz safe much longer, and we fled to the sands. Made friends with a seitch, as they told you, and then a another seitch. This one told us of the spice here." Here he pointed back at the kid with a slight shrug.

Chok stepped out of Randolpho's shadow, letting the Fremen before them see he was there. Silence descended on the peak, the Fremen around the spice mining crew suddenly, seemingly, even more still.

A choked out "Chok..." came from the one over the miner by the comms.

Chok's eyes narrowed, "Do I know you, your sietch?" he asked, in a wary tone.

"We thought your family was lost...we held the wat..." the man walked a couple steps closer, cutting off what he was saying when he remembered that it wasn't just Fremen on the peak. "It's me...your uncle, Garik." the man said in a whisper that cut just over the noise of the swirling dust and wind.

Chok continued to remain wary, glancing at Randolpho. He stepped closer to the Ginaz spice miner. Almost pressing against the man, he whispered in what he hoped was a tone only Randolpho would hear, "I have no uncle, my father had a sister but not brothers. My mother was an only child."

Doing nothing but look about impassively through shaded eyes he wondered if he had wandered into a dispute between seitches similar to the dispute between Houses. If so, this could be a very dangerous time. . .a very dangerous time. Reaching up he rubbed idly at his nose piece, it was annoying as all get out. He was by no means used to it, and a part of him feared the day he would become used to such an intrusive thing.

"Family matters aside," he added with a sniff before lowering his hand to rest in a relaxed manner on belt, conveniently at a spot that would make it very easy for a quick draw of the blade. "If we have overstepped by coming here to mine the Spice, we will go. We have no quarrel with you and wish none."

The 'uncle' began to walk closer to Randolpho and Chok. "This is the lands of our seitch, we hold ourselves aloof from those of other seitches, they have...gone down a path we do not follow." he said, one hand moving closer to his belt.

Chok shook his head, eyes studying the man approaching. He leaned closer to Randolpho again, "No...not family matters." he whispered. "I mean..he's not Fremen. Look at his stillsuit, it's done up all wrong." he went on in that very low voice.

Randolpho didn't need to hear anything more than that. Quick drawing his made to open the other from just above his belt to the heart. His off hand reaching forward to keep whatever the other drew down and away. "Thieves!" he cried out in that moment, hopefully it would stir his men to action. If not, this was going to be very interesting.

Chok hadn't quite expected Randolpho to immediate leap into action but noce the man had, he grabbed his crysknife from his belt, howling a warcry. He moved to the side of Randolpho opposite the other man's weapons hand. His blue within blue eyes were slitted as he raced at the man who had called himself his uncle. Which quickly found himself on his backside, grunting and trying to breathe as the man kicked him in the gut.

The lookout team heard their commander's call and surged into action. Each took on the nearest of the supposed Fremen nearest him, beginning a rolling, noisy, and bloody tussle atop the small platform that was the top of the spire. Randolpho's troops were seasons and many former fighters of the Atredies but the battle seemed evenly matched.

After kicking Chok away from him the man who had spoken let a tightlipped smile cross his face. "Well, they do say no plan survives contact with the enemy. Although your lot are only smugglers, trash." he muttered, drawing a long bladed knife, the lion headed pommel gleaming on and off as the sun broke through the swirling dust on occasion.

Smiling at the situation Randolpho flourished his sword, "You got that right, but ah you know. . ." he added as he got his pistol ready and shot offsides to try and free one of his men. "We're better in a scrap. Hahaha." He added with flick of his head to shift his head to do something with his hair - which did nothing with the constrictions of the still suit.

Randolpho's shot winged his target, punching in one side of his left calf and out of the other. It was just enough for his man to get through the other man's guard and stab into his chest with his knife. As the supposed Fremen fell to the ground, coughing and his body no longer responding the smuggler rushed to the aid of another of their number.

The leader of the group they faced, his eyes narrowed at Randolpho's actions. "That man was worth a thousand of you wretched smugglers. And yet you fight alongside the filth of this planet." he cursed. The long knife flashed in the air, the man's arrogant blue eyes locked on Randolpho's eyes as he slashed at the wrist that held the pistol.

Pulling back he still felt the sting of the knife, his adrenaline was pumping too much now for him to honestly know how bad it was, but he did know he had dropped his gun in his quick retreat. Focusing solely on the sword now he aimed at the opponents knife hand a little high on the point. He had no delusions that this thrust would work as choreographed but if blocked he might be able to push and lift his thrusting arm to change the attack. Basically use the knife guard like a pool player uses an offhand to stabilize the stick, only instead of hitting a ball it would be to hit something vital - face or neck or chest. "If he was worth a thousand, I do not think he would'a die to one." Randolpho replied with flippant disregard.

Chok darted around the pair, looking for an opportunity. The man attacking Randolpho was fast, he could see that. As the smuggler thrust for the man's hand with the tip of his sword, Chok kicked out, hearing a crunch as it connected with the back of the man's right knee. With a groan, the knee went out from under the man, his knife twisting to parry Randolpho's sword. "The Emperor knew you filthy smugglers were working with the desert rats. You will not stop the Imperium." he ground out.

Randolpho laughed openly at that, "I do not aim to go against the Emperor. But last I checked, you're not him, and your no Freemen either." Pressing the attack he aimed once more to ease his blade through the other mans neck.

In the fights around them one of Randolpho's men was down, wounded but breathing. The other two were facing the last two, slashes in their stillsuits showing the ferocity of the fight. The taller of the two slashed out, cutting at the neck of one of their opponents. His attack showed the training he'd had, his foe's eyes widening, "Atredies..." he gurgled out as the wound began to spurt. Reaching up, he pulled at the neck of his stillsuit, to get his hand over the wound.

A gasp came from Randolpho's man, as a distinctive tattoo came into view on the man's neck. "Sardaukar!" he cried out before he and the other turned and attacked the remaining foe as one.

The one facing Randolpho struggled to get to his feet again, knee buckling once more as his knife clattered to the surface of the spire, "Atredies pawns still alive are automatically traitors to the Imperium." he panted out, his hands reaching to keep Randolpho's blade from his own neck.

A hand in the way was merely an awaiting wound. He slashed it twice in rapid turn to make sure the fingers would be useless. If he had the chance he would end this, "As we believe the Sardaukar. Eh, if only your mothers loved you." he ribbed the last as he pushed his attack to end the man.

A choked growl escaped the man's lips, refusing to give this smuggler the satisfation of a scream as several fingers were sliced away from his defending hand. Once again, he tried to surge to his feet, to attack rather than defend. So he did not see as Chok leapt, planting a kick on his back as Randolpho attacked, Randolpho's sword burying itself in his body. With a dying light in his eyes, "One of my brothers will end you, Atredies filth." his voice growing more and more hollow as the weight of his body pulled him off the blade.

"That's only if they know what happened to you, and the sands are treacherous." he stated with a smirk before turning to make sure to see that his allies were freed and finished with their battles if they needed his help. The bodies would be stripped and given to the sands, more wormfood for more spice.

The last of the apparent Sardaukar had just fallen and the two who had faced him were pulling bandages from their packs, to take care of each other and the one of their team that was laying on the sands, with a deeper wound. Chok held his side, walking up to Randolpho, holding out the leader's knife to him. "This mght help, somewhere, to show what's going on." he said softly.

With a negligent wave, "Keep it. The Freemen will need more proof than my people." Randolpho was not the kind of man to take a trophy of another man's weapon. Especially one he didn't particularly like to use himself. "Now, lets see about medicines, looting bodies, and making sure these fellows didn't have others waiting to attack us here. Either way I have a feeling we better call the spice harvest short either way as soon as we are done whether there be worms or not."

TAG: @darthbernael

 

OOC: Another combo between me and @darthbernael ! Thank you!

IC: Aya Carolina
Ginaz Residence

Aya was observing the situation unfold. She stayed on the sidelines for the most part until she got informed that she was the new Legate. Curious. Maybe that was part of the plan. If the old one was incapacitated then the guards will have to follow protocol and lock her up for an indefinite amount of time, or simply until the threat had been dealt with. That was not part of her plan and was about to speak when the man pointed a gun past her.

Aya did not need to turn her head to know it was Dyana. Her footsteps revealed her. Despite the fact that she was a Fremen and knew how to walk silently there were still minuscule tell-tale signs that revealed her identity.

"Lower your weapon." she commanded.

The barrel of the pistol did not move, did not waver. The Lieutenant's eyes never drifted from Dyana, "That did not answer my question, Legate." he said in a firm, authoritative tone.

Dyana had halted at the sight of the pistol and the men, the tableau before her. Behind her the junior investigator held still in the statue like pose of a Fremen on the edge of violence. Dyana's hands were behind her, out of sight. Her fingers flicked, in a subtle signal to the man behind her. 'Trouble, these are not ordinary household troops. Warn the others, should you be able to get free.'

Aya was getting irritated. She was not used getting that tone from a mere soldier. She pushed those feelings aside. They were bad advisors at such tense moments. "Yes, they are with me." she said matter-of-factly "Now lower your weapon. I am sure you do not want to get hurt." she gave a small smirk. "Also what is this nonsense of taking me to a bunker? I am conducting an important investigation and I will not be interfered with."

The blue eyes, not the blue within blue of a native of Arrakis, turned to meet hers. The pistol moved, faster than most would be able to follow, holstered once more. "You are investigating those that attacked you. I have already told you that we encountered them and took care of them. So, unless you wish to examine the bodies to learn more there is a more pressing need to keep the Legate safe from harm than there is to expose you to more danger."

Dyana's fingers were still twitching, signalling the Fremen behind her. She walked closer to Aya Carolina, her hand finally coming from behind her back. "Is it possible to allow the Junior Investigator to return what findings we already have to the Residence Security office?" she asked Aya Carolina, ignoring the Lieutenant.

Aya nodded to Dyana as she kept on observing the guard. "I want to see the bodies first." she said firmly. "I hope you and your men had not disturbed the scene too much." she made a sour face. Aya wanted to learn as much as possible about her assailants. Hopefully they were not involved in all this and had covered their tracks.

Taking the nod as permission, the Junior Investigator walked out of the hidden corridor, through the passage from Aya-Carolina's room. Once he was sure that the others couldn't hear him, he moved with haste to reach and warn the others what Dyana had told him with her hand signals.

Dyana moved up beside Aya, looking at the man who had pointed his pistol at her. She studied him, not entirely sure what he was but that he was certainly quite dangerous. "Of course, Sister, I would like to see them too."

The Lieutenant's eyes were still cold as they drifted between the two women. "As you wish, Legate. But, I must insist on accompanying you, my men as well. There is no guarantee that they were the only ones who would make such an attempt." With that, he turned, two troops falling in on either side of Aya-Carolina and Dyana, the officer leading the way back out of the corridor, the Residence Manager only a step behind him.

Aya gave him a smile "Of course Lieutenant." she did not hide her sarcasm from her voice "We don't want anyone else try their luck with me." she gave him an innocent look "Besides, Dyana here is quite capable with a cooking pan." she gave a soft chuckle. Those soldiers did not want her to find something, which meant she absolutely needed to carry out her investigation, there was no other way. Hopefully her companion would be ready to fight if the need arose.

TAG: @darthbernael