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Star wars: Epoch (10,000 aby )


Klannad

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This is a repost of the story I had worked with on my first account. I decided to return to it, with some minor changes to characters and events.

English isnt my first language so, don't be too brutal x.x

 

 

10,000 ABY

 

The flags of the old empire flapped against rusted metallic poles in the dusty air. Gigantic buildings crumbled and fell, pieces of the old architecture falling into the endless, dark abyss. Nature had overtaken the planet: vines snaked and choked the still standing structures, crawling up from the bowels of the deserted city. Trees rose and towered over slumping metallic giants, a natural poetic statement about the fragility of sentient life. Another gust of wind blew, causing the old flag of the rodian empire to rip off it’s pole. Talzin watched with green eyes: still visible through his T-shaped visor, as it flew from the building he was standing on, and into the maw of the city.

 

Talzin looked back at his ship. The Reverie. It was a dusty old thing, with battered paint and rust forming at the folded wings. It hummed silently, like a beast in hibernation. A small, one-man fighter, he had been able to travel here in seven days. It was record time, in his opinion. Of the few pilots he met in his travels, most took weeks, not days, to travel the distance he had.

 

An armoured glove reached to his side, pulling a nine-shot bolt-pistol from it’s holster. It was fully loaded, the bullets hidden within their chambers, waiting to be expunged and thrust into the soft, warm bodies of any person, or animal, that decided to take a violent interest in him. He looked up to the sky. Sunlight still reached the planet, but the sun itself was obscured; Dark clouds that seemed to be constantly in motion were rolling over and over again above him, in a seemingly endless struggle. Talzin activated the flashlight that was attached to his helm, near his left eye, and began his descent into the city. He was looking for a temple: A lost religion, from a different time. Before the war that had destroyed everything and replaced it with what seemed a cheap imitation of how things were before.

 

 

Talzin sighed, and began moving down the building. As he did, he realized the building had actually fallen on it’s side, a steady, but sloping corpse of technology. This was Coruscant, the dead throne of the empire.

Edited by Klannad
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CLAW AND TOOTH

 

Terken Dert was a lowlife, even among the rabble that inhabited his outpost. He had very few skills, and the skills that he did have were oftened limited to theft and violence, skills which he had excelled in. He was a survivor. And for survivors like himself, theft and violence were very, very necessary.

 

But Terken found himself using one of his least honed skills: Waiting. On Xemenbagh, this rugged swamp-world, waiting was a skill that was almost never employed. Except for today. For Terken, hidden amongst the watery undergrowth of Xemenbagh's floor, He saw something worth waiting for. It was a pod. Or what seemed like a pod. It didn't look like any escape pod he had seen (He had seen many, soldiers belonging to various warlords often jettisoned here, only to quickly be eaten by Xemenbagh's predators, leaving Terken ample opportunity to scavange weapons and supplies)

 

PART 2 (TBC)

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CLAW AND TOOTH PART 2

 

 

 

 

 

 

No, this was an entirely different pod. It was made out of a metal that Terken had never seen before, a shiny metal that seemed to be resistant to the swamp waters and mud that were common to Xemenbagh. Now, Terken would have gone to this pod and explored it right when it touched down, but he couldn't. The problem was this: The pod had touched down on the planet; A flaming beacon, leaving a blue-streak in the sky, like a painters wild brush, leading every scanveger to the pod's exact location. Terken waited, because it

wasn't Human scavengers that had taken an interest in the pod. Twelve reptillian-like creatures, each one about 4 feet tall, poked about the pod. They were armed, with bolt rifles and pistols strapped to their bodies. They had long-snouted faces, with dripping noses and wide-green eyes. Tails almost as long as their bodies whipped about them. Corpses of human scavengers bubbled as they sank deeper into the swamp. These aliens, of which Terken had never seen, were obviously not the friendly type. If he had tried to inspect the pod-He would be shot by these creatures. And so, he waited. The swamp water was hot and humid, and almost had a calming effect on him. He was perfectly still, his head just above the water, his eyes trained on the small island where the pod had landed. Dark brown hair, mixed with mud, stuck to the sides of his face, and his dark eyes matched the color of the swamp's dank water. He could wait here for hours, if necessary. The creatures had made almost no progress in opening the pod: They yelled at each other in their strange hissing tongue and they tried tool after tool, and finally, bolt-fire, to open the pod. The tools broke, and the bolts bounced harmlessly off the pod and landed in the swamp with a silent plop.

 

The creatures marched around and about the island, angry yet unable to change their situation.

 

Just leave Terken thought to himself. He eyed them with a patience that was starting to wane, tempted to just rush the creatures. He tried to justify that stupid action with various plans that were foolish at their inception in his head. But suddenly, the Pod hissed loudly, a sound that, Terken realized, was similiar to the sound of the creature's language. The reptiles jumped and ran around the pod with excitement, and stopped, aiming their weapons at the pod. Even Terken was caught in the suspense, having stopped breathing, focused on the pod. A hatch opened, slowly, thick white smoke rising from inside the pod. From inside the smoke, Terken could see the silhouette of a tall, dark figure straightening itself from within the smoke-screen. The smoke dissipated, not naturally, but from some invisible force, revealing a being that stood almost 7 feet tall, with large, sloping shoulders that were poorly hidden underneath a gray cloak that hodded the figure's head.

 

It didn't take the creatures long to react. With a soundless order, they shot at the figure, the sound of bolts being released from the rifles and pistols that the aliens held. The bolts were left suspened in the air, meters from the barrels they were fired from. The figure stood still, having left the pod, now standing a few inches from it. A hooded head turned, counting the number of reptiles that surrounded it. It raised it's hand, which Terken realized was clawed and scaled. Lighting erupted from the hand, and engulfed all twelve creatures in it's deadly embrace. Terken watched, unable to run or yell out, amazed, and envious of this creature's power.

Edited by Klannad
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EMERGENCE

 

Terken slowly waded to the small island. His movements strong, honed by years of dealing with Xemenbagh's unique landscape. The figure didn't move from his position, standing perfectly still. Terken was not foolish enough to think that the figure couldn't notice his advance.

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EMERGENCE PART 2

 

Terken slowly climbed onto the island, his feet slipping on the dark mud that outlined the edge of the island. Drips of swamp water plopped onto the yellow sand, creating small dark circles that sunk into the island's ground. The creature still did not acknoweldge him, standing still, his back turned to Terken. Terken slowly rose, the wetness of the swamp causing his tattered clothing to stick to his body like a thick second skin. He stopped where he was, and for a few seconds, neither spoke or moved. Terken stared at the back of the massive figure. It was well muscled, he could tell from the folds it's back created, and its arms too, were barely contined in the long sleeves of the cloak. Terken walked towards the beast slowly, taking two inquisitive and tenative steps, his barren feet sinking into the sand of the island. He could smell the pod, which was still expelling white smoke. It stank of cleaniness, like a strong disinfictant that Terken had used to clean his wounds on numerous occasions.

 

The behemoth remained still. It hadn't moved since it had killed the reptile-like creatures, whose bodies were still crackling from the monster's strange powers. Terken smelled their bodies too, a sickly smell, the stink of burned flesh and blood. They had not died an easy death.

 

"Where am I, Human?" The creature asked, suddenly. It took Terken a few seconds to understand what it had said, to his ears it sounded like share sam-Sai, Shuu-man?

 

"Xemenbagh" Terken said simply.

 

"Xemenbagh?" Semenbazgh? The beast repiled, testing the foreign words on it's tongue.

 

Terken nodded, even though he was behind the creature. But he knew, somehow, that the creature knew he nodded, as if the creature had sensed him.

 

"What is your name, Shuu-man?" The beast asked. It turned it's hodded head towards him.

 

"Terken Dert...." The boy trailed off. He didn't know how to address the creature, he certaintly couldn't call it monster or beast as he had been in his head.

 

"Sir", He finally settled on. The creature turned to face him, and Terken had to do everything he could to keep from jumping back into the swampy waters.

 

It had dark, yellow eyes that gleamed like glowing swampy pools reflecting the sun's deadly rays. He was covered in dark, scaled skin, which was covered in scars, the tell-tale pink lines- Old wounds that had healed over, zig-zagging it's face. It had a reptilian face, but not as lizard-like as the creatures it had killed. It's face was flatter, less comical and more dangerous. It's mouth was closed, but it didn't take a leap of faith for Terken to assume it was lined with razor sharp teeth. Which caused Terken to trace his eyes down the alien's muscled arms and to his hands. While the long (albeit tight) sleeves obscured his actual hands, four razor-sharp white claws poked unassumingly from it's dark sleeves.

 

"What are you?" Terken asked. His voice was fearful, but his fear was laced with childlike curiousity, which the beast sensed.

 

He heard a low grumble coming from the alien, which he realized, after seeing it's face contort in more horrendous ways, was laughter.

 

"I am Trandoshan, T'doshok" It answered. It's massive scaled hands raised to it's hood and pulled it down, revealing it's face, now more visible from Xemenbagh's sunlight.

 

"My name, Shuu-man, is Tetinark Ghost, And I am wanted dead" Trintenark rasped.

 

"Dead?"

 

"Did I make my words unclear, Shuu-man?"

 

"No, that's just one hell of an introduction if I've ever seen one"

 

More grumbles, more laughter. Tetinark smiled- Or what seemed like a smile, his teeth were exposed, to say the least. He's either laughing or planning to eat me Terken thought to himself.

 

"Do you have any kin?" Tetinark asked. Kin sounded like skin.

 

"No, My mother and father are both dead." Terken said simply. Trintenark's face took on a look of genuine suprise. "What happened to them?" It asked.

 

"I killed them both." Terken said, the words had to escape his mouth like prisoners from a cellblock. His eyes took on a darker tone, not the curious almost childish look that they had before. Tetinark smiled to himself. This one will do nicely.

 

Terken answered him without any question being asked. "I'll tell you why later, but let's get out of this swamp-Well, the planets all swamp, I should say lets get out of this particular swamp. I have a dwelling" He said quickly, and walked past Tetinark. He waded into the swamp once more, looking back at the giant Trandoshan.

 

"Follow my lead, or else you'll drown or get eaten by something or a number of somethings" He said, hearing the low grumble of laughter behind him. He didn't know what he was doing, leading this creature to his home. But, Terken thought, To be honest, I don't really care and with that, he lead his new guest deeper into Xemenbagh, away from the island that had been the setpiece that started it all.

***

 

NEXT CHAPTER: DISCOVERY

Edited by Klannad
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DISCOVERY PART 1

 

A predator never stalks it's prey with too much exictement. Of course, the Predator itself is filled with the emotion, but it never lets it show. For a predator to show that emotion, it would lead to the possiblity for it to lose it's prey. Yoza vowed to never lose his prey again.

 

For the master He thought, and suddenly his hand reached up to touch the fresh scar that his master had given him for his first failure.

 

Always for the master.

 

 

Yoza brushed his long blonde hair out of the way of his luminous blue eyes. The coldness of space had pentrated his ship, he was shivering, now, his simple black cloak not sufficent enough to warm his feeble body. His lips were pressed together, creating the illusion that he had no mouth at all, as his eyes scanned the vast expanse of space before him. A simple view-screen was all that seperated him from the stars. His ship rumbled in protest of the stillness, it was floating now, hovering, suspended upon nothing but the slight bursts of engine fire that kept him alight.

 

For the master.

 

 

He had two options. His target, his prey had ejected from it's own ship-Stolen

He corrected, stolen from the master. He shook his head. Back to the task at hand. Two options. He could follow the ejected pod to the planet itself, which, he had no doubt that his prey would be lying in wait. He had no intention to spring a trap, he did not intend to be out-manuvered again. The second option was to do the un-expected. His prey expected him to come and find him, but he had another idea. His ship lurched forward, groaning at the movement, as his engines flared and burned, filling the ship with the dank smell of fuel. The ship stuttered towards the small green planet, And Yoza pushed the controls forward, hurtling now, towards the moon. He closed his eyes, cleared his thoughts, and focused. He could hear the ship's groans turn into screams and feel the heat of his speed as the view-screen was scorched with the planet's own natural defenses, the fires of passing into the atmosphere. The pain increased, doubled, tripled- It reached a point where all he could do was focus on the pain, and then the sound. There was a large boom, shaking the ship and throwing it off-course (Not that Yoza even had a course to begin with) He heard more popping sounds as the ship failed, until the glass of the viewscreen crackled and crashed into pieces. Glass went into his face, almost all of it, forced back into the cockpit rather than falling out into the sky. Yoza still had his eyes closed, but he could feel the searing pain as the hot fragments ripped into his face and chest. He still pushed the controls forward, accepting the pain with silent resignation. The ship bucked suddenly, and entered an uncontrolled free-fall. He felt a sharp pain at his waist, and for the first time, he opened his eyes-He felt the sensation of falling, but then, with a dark humor, realized his body had been cut in half, his legs and lower abdomen still strapped to the pilots chair. He could feel the blood leaving his body, and turned a blue eye to the falling ship, which had now splintered into 3 or four peices-and watched it land with large explosions. He crashed into a tree, his head splintering into two parts, but still connected, as he tried to retain conciousness. His legless body fell backwards, falling unto the suprisingly soft ground- He began to relax, only to realize the ground was sinking He reached out an arm, which was grossly burned and cut, and used all of his power, focusing on a nearby tree. He felt his body being pulled from the quicksand, slowly but surley. As the last of his body left the quicksand, he gasped, breathing deeply, and laid on the safe ground for a few moments, catching his breath.

 

Predators do the unexpected He realized that his left arm was gone, and with grim duty, reached out with his right hand, and clawed his way forward, straining to keep his head upright. He allowed himself an inspection of his surroundings. It was obviously a jungle, a wet jungle- He could smell the decay of various animals and other objects rotting in nearby swamps. This was good. His crashed ship would have an ample supply of fuel to burn. Hopefully, His prey saw his crash, Yoza corrected himself. He knew his prey saw it. If he didn't, he would see the smoke from the fires- His prey couldn't be far from here. Yoza continued to claw further. He looked at his hand again, and found that two fingers were missing. The ground from the jungle agitated his exposed flesh, adding more pain to his overall discomfort, but he would not be dettered. A small, mouse-like creature ran by him, only to turn around, and stand directly infront of him. It eyed Yoza with hungry eyes, and darted forward, biting one of Yoza's fingers, and after some effort, pulling it off. The mouse-creature gobbled this treat greedily, and looked at Yoza again, trying to pick it's next target. The mouse advanced with an open-maw, not to Yoza's hand, but directly into his right eye. The creature's tunnel-like snout dug into his eye, sharp teeth lacerating his vision and filling him with more pain. But this is what Yoza wanted. With his free arm- His only arm, he gripped the creature with inhuman force. It squawked at the intrusion, and tried to wriggle free. Yoza gripped harder, and the creature screamed louder- he didn't want to kill it, he just wanted it to make noise. Yoza then brought the mouse closer to his mouth and bit into it, his sharp teeth easily cutting into the mouse's flesh. The creature screamed in protest, but as he ate, he felt- And saw his body returning. stubs of his fingers began to regrow, and skin on his arm healed, color returning to his black and scorched arm. But this small mouse wouldn't be enough to return him to perfection. He slurrped some of the blood that had pooled before him, and crawled into the nearby bushes, and waited. More prey would come, in which He could heal himself, and continue on his quest to find the true prey, the betrayer, Tetinark Ghost.

 

As he digested his meal, his thought focused on the reasons for all of his actions.

 

For the master. Always, for the master.

Edited by Klannad
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DISCOVERY: PART 2

 

 

Tetinark dutifully followed Terken. The boy had lied, or at least exaggerated, because while the planet was mostly swamp, There were long arid portions of dry plains that separated them. For this Tetinark was grateful, the sun would be able to dry off the murky swamp water that had taken a liking to his cloak. Terken, however, seemed to love the swamps. As he traveled through it, he wouldn't stop talking. Flora and Fauna, what fruits were safe and unsafe, and what areas were known lurking grounds for large underwater behemoths. More than once Terken had to change their direction because of these beasts.

 

"They're huge. I've seen some at least 10 times your size. They lie in wait at the bottom of the swamp, and then BAM you're dinner." He said, clapping his hands together in a mock imitation of of jaws closing down on a target. Tetinark listened, and played the part, he asked questions when questions were expected, laughed when it was obvious Terken was trying to jest. But Tetinark couldn't realize how childish he was. The boy had to be at least somewhat past his childhood youth-Tetinark guessed it was from the excitement of the day, but still, his thoughts lingered.

 

This boy killed his parents? Tetinark mused on the thought. It was entirely possible, but still, hard to believe. Nevertheless, he trudged forward.

 

Until he was stopped in his tracks. He sensed it before Terken saw it, but his eyes looked to the sky when he screamed.

 

"Look!" Terken yelled and pointed. A flaming meteor came hurtling towards the planet. It took Tetinark a moment to realize it wasn't a meteor, it was a ship. A shiver of dread covered Tetinark. Yoza... The Trandoshan thought.

 

"Get down!" Terken yelled, running back to Tetinark and pulling him to the ground. The meteor, the ship flew right overhead, and crashed into the jungle behind them.

 

Silence. There was almost no sound then, Terken and Tetinark both stoic as they lay on the ground.

 

"That was a ship! " Terken whispered, and scrambled to his feet, running to the crash site.

 

"Terken! No!" Tetinark said. Terken looked back while running, a wide smile on his face.

 

"I do this all the time! don't worry!" He grinned.

 

So foolish Tetinark said to himself. He reached out a hand, and then reached out to Terken. His invisible grip catching the young man's ankle. The boy fell, and turned, with a face full of bewilderment.

 

"This is not the ship to scavenge. Whatever is in that ship, it will kill you." Tetinark said firmly. Terken, still not understanding, nodded, and jogged back to the Trandoshan. They continued for a while, not speaking, until Terken finally asked,

 

"How did you do that. Not just that, but the lighting thing too? I've never seen anything like it!" He said, his voice filled with envy and awe.

 

Tetinark smiled within himself and answered simply. "I have the power of the force within me, Shuu-man."

 

"Could you teach me?" Terken asked.

 

"Teach you what?"

 

"The force." Terken said. He had stopped moving, and turned, looking Tetinark Ghost directly in the eyes. Tetinark was taken aback, somewhat, for his eyes had gotten dark again, like when he had told him that he killed his own kin.

 

"You have to have power to learn the force, boy." Tetinark said simply. He approached him, the boy, who was still standing defiantly, and touched his forehead with a clawed finger.

 

"This is a test." He said simply. He knew that the boy had no force power, he would have sensed it, but he might as well entertain the boy, yet kill all hopes of the boy learning anything from him. Besides, Tetinark planned on leaving the boy once he had no more use for him.

 

Tetinark poked about the boy's mind. The boy had a feeble, natural defense, of which Tetinark broke through easily. Scattered thoughts about various musings brushed past Tetinark's probe as he reached the door. The symbolic door. Tetinark touched it, and waited. The kneejerk response would be for Terken's own mind to attack Tetinark's, an untrained force push that would send Tetinark back a few inches-or yards. But, as Tetinark expected, he felt nothing.

 

"I cannot train you, I'm sorry." Tetinark said simply, removing his hand from Terken's forehead. The boy nodded, and went back to leading Tetinark to his home.

 

What a strange human... Tetinark knew few humans, but of the ones he knew, not acted like this boy. How did he end up on this planet? Why did he kill his own parents? the questions seemed endless. I sound like him, now He said with a point of amusement. But it was short lived. He was getting too familiar with the child.

I will use him until he outlives his usefulness. That is the only objective. That, is the way.

 

"Hurry up! We're almost there!" Terken said, as Tetinark realized he had fallen behind. He put gusto into his step, and followed the boy, his one objective fresh in his mind.

 

I will rebuild the Sith.

 

 

***

 

 

Yoza cracked the bone of a large, bovine-like creature and sucked out the marrow. His eye had returned, as had most of his left arm, but still, it was not enough. His prey, however, seemed endless. It was like every creature on this planet was carnivorous: All he had to do was spill blood and they came, the scavengers. But this was not enough. He needed to find larger prey. Yoza, needed to find a human.

 

NEXT CHAPTER: FATHER'S HEIRLOOM

Edited by Klannad
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FATHER'S HEIRLOOM

 

 

Talzin was in complete darkness. He was in the bowels of Courscant, the dead throne of the Rodian empire. Rusted machines slowly decayed and crumbled, reaching the last stage of their dead lives. Dust was everywhere, and even with his mask on, he had to suppress the urge to cough as small dust particles sneaked into his helmet. The source of light that came from the side of his helm bounced as he slowly edged deeper into abyss. He was in a crypt, of sorts, A building that had not been entered since it fell. It was hard getting into, a large piece of metalwork covered the entire front of it, (Probably a ship that crashed into the planet,) Talzin thought. He had to edge around the building, a process that took hours, and then shoot out one of the many windows that were, surprisingly still intact. The reason, however, he picked this specific building was this: It led into the ground. Or, the artificial ground, which meant deeper into the bowels of the city. Whatever he was looking for, it was probably down there. And so, here was Talzin, making his way down what could be called the last spire of Courscant. The way was steep, and there were no stairs, just a winding descending hallway littered with machines and rusting old armour. The place was a graveyard. As he made his way, he could see how the course of battle went. The machines ravaged what he was guessing were the Rodian forces, until they tried to hole themselves at the top of the spire, where Talzin had began. The machine army blew a huge hole into the materials they had used to blockade the door, which Talzin realized, was thankful for. He wouldn't be where he was now if they hadn't, for he simply stepped into and over the breach, and made his way down the winding hall.

 

***

 

Tetinark, for the most part, was impressed with Terken's home. It was clean, well-put together, and safe. The last part was important. Terken had explained to him his father's reasoning. My dad said that too many settlers were trying to keep to the open plains, which was a bad idea. They were afraid of the swamp- But some of the swamps here are shallow- which means no predators. Tetinark, upon arriving at the home, noticed that small animals had also realized this swamp was a safe haven. It also looked cleaner too, the water here fresh and clear, the plants green and luminous, not dark and foreboding. Once they were inside, Terken had sat Tetinark down on a comfortable cushion that accepted Tetinark's large frame. It was covered in swirling designs, and neat patchwork that Tetinark realized were characters.

 

Terken had gone to wash himself and get a change of clothes, so Tetinark was left alone- For now. Which was good. He had to think of his next plan of action. Yoza had failed, again, at capturing him. His ship crashed, meaning he must of underestimated the planet's atmospheric shield. His ship, which had already been damaged, couldn't have made it through. Even so, Tetinark was glad that his small but well-enforced pod had been able to slip through the planet's clouds with little incident. But it was a meager victory, such was Yoza's death. The Master would know that Yoza had failed, immediately, and would probably send more of his disciples after him. Tetinark was among his original seven, and with Yoza gone... Would he send the rest of them? all at once? or would he continue to send them one by one? The situation became increasingly dire. One thing was clear, however, he needed to get off-world, as soon as possible. Space travel was long and dangerous, and there was a chance that his pursuers would die in pursuit, But, like Yoza's death, it would be a meager victory.

 

 

Tetinark rose from his position and stretched his long body. He realized for the first time since he left his enclave that he was hungry. Tetinark knew there was food here, but he would wait until Terken was ready- His hunger did not excuse rude actions such as taking food that was not yet given. So he returned to his seat, the cushion, and again inspected the characters. He had seen this language, somewhere, but he couldn't place it's origin. But he knew it was familiar. Tetinark assumed that it wouldn't be rude to ask Terken once he returned. And then, of course, He could plan a way to get Terken to help him obtain a ship.

 

 

"I'm back, and swamp-free" Terken announced. He entered the main living room-The only room, really, aside from the washing chambers that were up a flight of stairs. Terken was wearing plain pants, no foot coverings, and a brown shirt, which, Tetinark realized, were covered with the same strange characters that were on the pillow. But his shirt also had a small insignia, at the dip of the V of his collar, which revealed somewhat his small but slightly muscled chest.

 

Now that Tetinark looked about, the home was covered with these insignia. They insignia itself was strange. It was two white figures, a boar-like creature running into the maw of a some beast, of which only it's head was drawn. On the outside, it was circled by a thick, black curving line. Terken noticed his eye.

 

"It's the flag of the Urno clan. Of the wandering Mandolorian tribe."

 

***

 

FATHER'S HEIRLOOM, PART 2 TBC

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FATHER'S HEIRLOOM (PART 2)

 

 

The Trandoshan sat with Terken, face to face as Terken explained his heritage. While he spoke, a sweet-smelling meat was broiling in a pot in the center of the small room, fueled by a small wooden fire.

 

"My father was Urno. As you can tell, he is very proud of his clan" Terken said, spreading his arms to the various flags that held the room hostage.

 

"When he took my mother and had me- He made sure both of us were aware that the Urno were powerful and that no force in the known space could destroy them. Us". Terken opened the pot of meat, using a leaver that jutted out of the side of the pot, pulling it, Tetinark realized, caused the top of the pot to open. Hot mist escaped from it, and dissipated as it rose to the ceiling. The smell of the food was almost palpable, and Tetinark could almost taste the meat on his tongue.

 

 

Terken continued his story, his face taking a darker color. The color was similar to when He had first told Tetinark he killed his parents.

 

"The Mandalorians have never truly been united. At least as far as I know. Clans were always attacking clans, absorbing them into their own, to please the grand Mandalore."

 

"Grand Mandalore?" Tetinark asked. Terken nodded, fiddling with the pot's handle.

 

"The Grand Mandalore is..." Terken trailed off, unsure how to finish his statement.

 

"King?" Tetinark offered. Terken smiled.

 

"Yeah, king. Except not totally. Like I said before, we were never unified, and I think that's how we survived for so long- We weren't one target or one planet. Even one race. The Grand Mandalore, however, was the Man'dul'a, the leader of the strongest clan. He would recognize the second strongest clan, and would form a marriage alliance with them. The two clans would unite, sort of speak. They became the closest thing to a Goverment, while the lesser clans, such as the Urno, any clan weaker than the one that was chosen, was left to fend for themselves. That is when my father fled. He came here, and found my mother. He was still proud of our clan, But even he doesn't know if any still roam. The small weak clans, such as the Urno, were the ones first killed off and ***** by the stronger ones. While the grand clan sits in the capital, with security of arms and intellect-The rest of us suffer and die at the hands of our own peoples." Terken's voice shook as he spoke.

 

He got up abruptly, and went upstairs that had led into the washing chambers. But when he jogged back down, he had a skin-hide bag that, from the sound of it, contained cutlery. He sat back down by Tetinark, opened the bag, and handed him a plate(Or a bowl, Tetinark couldn't tell which) and a two-speared eating utensil. He took out also from the bag his own set of eating tools, and a ladle, which he dipped into the pot, and pulled out, revealing chunky meat swimming in a white broth. He motioned Tetinark to offer his plate, and dripped the meal from the ladle into Tetinark's possession. Terken looked at the Trandoshan, having to suppress laughter from such an odd scene- Tetinark sat in the cushion, with his legs crossed, holding the plate with one hand and his utensil in the other.

 

"I hope it's good for you." Terken said. They ate in relative silence, each one too busy in their meals to speak to one another.

***

 

FATHER'S HEIRLOOM PART 3 (TBC)

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FATHER'S HEIRLOOM (PART 3)

 

Terken opened his eyes slowly, his face warmed by the embers of the small fire from the day before. He had fallen asleep on the floor, using his seat-cushion as a pillow. He sat up slowly, yawned again, and scratched his stomach.

 

He was hungry.

 

And Tetinark was gone.

 

Terken wasn't surprised, he hadn't expected to find the Trandoshan curled up in a ball sleeping by the fire so-to-speak, but he didn't think the alien would leave the house. Which he did. Terken jumped to his feet and ran upstairs.

 

Going to get himself killed The young man thought to himself, and came to a panel in the wall, next to the door that lead to the small washroom. It was painted- The crest of the Urno, the boar running into the maw of the beast- He pushed the panel aside, and looked upon his father's weapons and arms.

 

 

The Urno clan, like most of the mandalorian clans, was too poor to equip all of it's members with traditional Mandalorian armor. That was usually what set the Grand clans apart from the others- The Grand clan members all wore gleaming mandalorian armor, unchanged for thousands-No, tens of thousands of years. Terken eyed his father's arms. The Urno outfitted themselves in simple hard-leggings, skin-hide leg wear that was hard on the outside, and soft on the inside. Despite it's hardness, it was able to be moved. After that, a dusky cloak was worn over the body, meant to conceal any weapons that an Urno might be carrying. On the back of the cloak, the Urno insignia was found. Lastly, a simple turban was wrapped around a metal helm, and when worn, only the eyes were visible. Terken put on all these, wrapping the Turban around his simple-metal helmet as he was taught many years ago.

 

hanging next to his father's clothing was the box of arms- Terken took out the box, slowly, and placed it on the ground. It was much less heavy than he remembered. The dried blood on the corners- Terken stopped his thoughts. I used this to kill them, Didn't I? A voice said inside his head. But it came from a far distance, like across the great plains he was so well acquainted with.

 

Get out of here, Terken thought. The invasive voice laughed. Or what felt like laughter.

 

To survive, we did it to survive, Didn't we? The voice sneered. He could feel it coming upon him, feel it's sinister breath as it caused the hair on the back of his neck to rise in warm protest.

 

You are a murderer. And a coward.... The voice echoed within Terken's mind, burned.

 

But then it was gone. Terken opened his eyes, he was staring at the box. He looked at the bloodstain again, but it did not invoke another visit by his other. Terken realized he was sweating, he could feel the wetness of his skin slide against the cold metal of his father's armor. He opened the box, clammy hands lifting the rusted cover, revealing three gleaming weapons.

 

The first were to be used in unison. A Oeta-44 machine-bolt pistol, capable of firing 30 bolts in two seconds. The next weapon was the much heavier Dragar Pulch, the weapon of the Urno. It had a muzzle that looked like a dragon's snout, and seemed twice as long. It was long, almost six inches, with a thick-wood finish. The muzzle finished in two snouts, which was where the large bolts were fired from. The gun could rip a man in two.

 

The last weapon was a strange sort, a fold-able spear-staff. It was fitted with a small electrical current that when activated, offered it more cutting power. It was, in Terken's opinion, his best weapon. Terken lifted his cloak, which his father called the Du'ru' , and fastened a holster around his waist, made specifically for carrying the guns. He then took the spear-staff, which was folded at this point, and carried it in his hands. He rushed down the stairs again, and was about to leave the house when he heard voices. Not Tetinark's but voices that were terrifyingly human .

 

No, Terken's mind blanked, fear gripping his body.

 

No, No. Terken already knew who it was. He had heard the voice before.

 

It was Cuthan Durrwise, leader and founder of the blood-hats.

 

NEXT CHAPTER: BLOOD ON THE CLAW

Edited by Klannad
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Cuthan Durrwise looked at the hovel with little interest. He couldn't see how anything of value could be inside it, but, like his father used to say, " Never leave a home unplundered. Of course, Cuthan always followed this rule, the sage wisdom from Duhalia Durrwise, The best merceny Cuthan had ever seen, bless his soul. He held his gun in his holster, now, and wore his large hat that created ample shade. A grime covered shirt was left unbuttoned, revealing red fleshy skin. He wore black skin-hide leggings and dark colored boots, and, like all blood-hats, A splotch of dried blood was left on the center of his large hat.

 

Cuthan stood with six others : Duruga, Jensen, Kiliya, Broden, Nia, and Haven. He had rounded these men up from the various abandoned outposts that scattered the planet- They were survivors, like him, able to live off the land in squalor. But he gave them purpose-He gave them weapons, and most importantly, he gave them food. Haven was the latest addition to the group, he was a soldier, he said, and Cuthan believed him, having found the man crashed and half-dead on Xemenbagh. But Cuthan's father had also said to never take a man's word, but considering the evidence, Cuthan decided that he could, in this one occasion, take the word of Haven.

 

It was Haven who lead them here, and without him and his army training, They would have missed this little hideout. Haven picked up the subtlest clues- They had all known where the pod had fell, but upon inspection, they had found nothing inside. They all knew the strange creatures around them had been killed, but they didn't know by who or what.

 

Haven, however, was the one who found the tracks. Haven was the one who could see into the swamp, and somehow tell which direction the first scavengers had gone. He assumed it was a great prize they had found, for Haven said that the footprints were rushed, saying that he could tell that they had been running. When he had said this, Haven got this look in his blue eyes that made Cuthan uneasy. He had seen that look in the eyes of the predators of Xemenbagh, but never in a man. Regardless, Haven had done well, for a newbie.

 

Cuthan stood with them, each one taking position. Haven looked about them with a confused look on his face, to which Cuthan shook his head and pointed to the ground behind him. Haven nodded apologetically, and took up position at his side. Cuthan was annoyed that there were no windows revealing the outside of the hovel. They were seven strong, but a few well-placed bolts could easily even the odds...Against Cuthan's favor. Haven had told them there were two: A human, and some sort of alien that he had never encountered. Though when he originally showed Cuthan the alien's tracks, his mouth twisted, like he had drank something sour. Cuthan didn't know what to think of this-He appreciated Haven, but there was still something off about him.

 

"Draw" He said softly, and heard the slight sound of smooth weapons sliding out of their leather holsters. He drew his own, and decided the time to wait was over. There will be blood, he thought. There will be blood.

 

BLOOD ON THE CLAW (PART 2)

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Terken held the Dragar Pulch so close to his cheek that his face was actually cooled by the weapon's cold touch. The pistol was still in it's holster, and the staff was strapped to his back, hidden by his dark Urno cloak. He knew It was the blood-hats. He knew it was Cuthan. Terken's blood boiled at the memory of that mans disgusting face. A face of perpetual satisfaction, unjustified pride, and various unfathomable vices, each one more disgusting than the last. Cuthan was the reason Terken was forced to kill his parents. Cuthan. The name frothed and spilled over in Terken's mind, like a cup filled with bubbling ale- His pale hands turned red- He eased his grip on his gun- Closed his eyes, and then, waited. Cuthan wouldn't just waltz into the house. He would wait, thinking that Terken didn't know who was inside. Terken had one good shot with the Pulch, after that, he would have to take the time to reload. The initial shot would put the group into shock, but he would need to find cover- And fast. The only thing that was in Terken's favor was the fact that his weapons were exceptionally better than Cuthans- At least the last time he had come in contact with the Marauder, All those years ago, Watching as Cuthan ***** his mother, watching as he beat his father, and watched, as they both sat, defeated and mute, as Cuthan stole from his family. Luckily, he hadn't found the weapons. And that was all his father cared about. His father never recovered from that incident. He grew into a bitter, angry man, beating him and his mother daily, feeling the need to hurt his own family so he could feel stronger. His mother was the one who never spoke, never said anything until he had killed his father- He beat his father's head in with his own weapon-box, and his mother screamed and yelled, and came at him with hands and nails, scratching his face. He killed her then, too, and then an eleven year old Terken, with blood on his hands and face, some of it his own, some of it his parents- Dragged the bodies, one after the other, into the plains. The next day, they would be gone, He knew they would be. The scavengers of Xemenbagh wouldn't turn up such a treat.

 

 

Terken inhaled deeply, and then bent down, to the floor, where the handle for his hovel's door was. It was now, or never. I'm probably going to die, after this He thought to himself. Where's Tetinark when you need him...

 

But the missing Trandoshan wasn't on his mind now. He gripped the Pulch tightly, in his right hand, removing his left from the gun's muzzle in preparation to lift the door, revealing the outside world to his eyes. Now, He thought, lifting the hatch quickly, almost too quickly, the light from the sun blinded him momentarily, and he could see the shadow of a man who was still bent over. He had been about to lift the door. Terken didn't need to see the figure in clarity to know what to do next. He pointed the Pulch down at the figure, and fired. The Dragar roared, a sound that was more animal than machine, as two thick bolts ripped their way through the blood-hat's simple garments and deep into his back, cutting their way through his midsection and then out through his stomach. He died instantly.

 

His body slumped, and rolled halfway down the stairs.

 

"What the hell!? Fire! you fools!" Cuthan screamed, grabbing his own gun in the process. Terken could see now, his eyes adapting to the situation. His body adapted faster. When Cuthan ordered his men to shoot, he had already lifted the dead blood-hat and slumped him over his body, using it as a shield. He could feel bolts trapping themselves inside the man's already bloodied corpse. But this shield wouldn't hold. He threw the body, as hard as he could, to the right, and then ran to the opposite direction. Bolts whizzed past his eyes as his assailants tried shooting to where he would be Not where he was. He ran to the side of the hovel, his legs moving faster than they had ever before. He didn't take time to reload the Pulch as he ran, his left hand went for the Oeta. More bolt fire sparked by him, and he could hear Cuthan screaming orders to his men. Terken ignored all of that, his eyes set on the swamp before him. He just needed to reach the trees- He would have cover there, instead of the wide-open plain that he had left behind. His feet began to sink into the ground as he ran.

 

He would not die today.

 

 

BLOOD ON THE CLAW (PART 3)

Edited by Klannad
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BLOOD ON THE CLAW PART III

 

Cuthan hadn't expected to lose his first man so quickly. For someone who dealt with death, he should be able to deal with death easily, and without emotion. But the death of a comrade, especially a death so brutal, was hard to manage. He had to draw upon the words of Papa Durrwise to calm himself.

 

 

The lust for revenge must be suppressed in battle: If you chase after it, you will die.

 

Cuthan inhaled deeply, and tightened his grip on his bolt-pistol as Jensen ignored his post and went running at The killer, who was dressed in strange garb that Cuthan had never seen. Jensen fired seven shots, but the bastard Blast his soul, used Duruga's body as a shield, and then threw it away violently, running around and behind the hovel.

 

Cuthan was no fool. "He's trying to get into the swamps! Get that bastard!"

 

Jensen turned at the order and gave Cuthan a dark-faced nod, and continued after the murderer of their friend. Kiliya, Broden, Nia, and Haven followed Cuthan, who walked to Duruga's corpse. He was lying on his stomach, forcing Cuthan to gently push him over, revealing a face that still had the look of surprise written all over it.

 

"Go after him. Help Jensen." He ordered the men without turning to face them. They moved away from him, their footsteps tracing Jensen's as they ran after the killer. Cuthan turned his attention back to Duruga's corpse. He had been almost like a son to Cuthan. Cuthan raised him, armed him, taught him everything he knew. And now, he was dead. Cuthan felt cheated, almost, and his hatred began to boil and simmer, his face growing dark and red. It was then he turned, feeling a presence, and saw Haven still looming over him.

 

"I thought I told you to go with the others." Cuthan said. He sounded confident, but underneath that sentence, a small sprout of fear grew. Haven looked at him, his eyes turning somehow, the piercing blue eyes becoming feral and almost oppressive to look at.

 

Cuthan got up from his hunkered position and faced Haven. Haven advanced, slowly, taking a step towards Cuthan.

 

"What the hell are you doing Haven...." Cuthan asked. He tried to put power into his voice, but at the last moment, he wavered, sounding like a little boy rather than a menacing bounty hunter.

 

Cuthan went back to the day they had found Haven. He was scarred, bloody, and stank, but fine, for the most part. Dried blood was everywhere, as were bone fragments. He said he had crashed, which, Cuthan believed, as there was a crashed ship some clicks away, but now, he wasn't sure. The story that Haven told him was that he was a soldier, fighting for one of the warlords, and that he had gone off course and landed, rather roughly, here.

 

As Haven took another step towards him, Cuthan slowly raised his gun. The doubts that Cuthan had suppressed came bubbling up from Cuthan's mind. He didn't know how, but he knew Haven was not a soldier. And something about his story was false.

 

 

Haven spoke. His voice was strained and guttural, and as his mouth opened and closed, his teeth began to turn into fangs.

 

"Your death will seal the fate of the future," He said, swallowing, and then continued,

 

"You should feel honored". Cuthan shot at Haven, shot him directly in the chest. He could hear the bones of Haven's chest bend as the bolt ripped through his flesh. But Haven did not flinch. He didn't even fall over. He laughed, and started coughing as blood dribbled from his mouth. Cuthan shot him again, but the bolt stopped inches from Haven's forehead. Haven lifted his face slowly, his long blonde hair now shining, the color of the sun. Cuthan dropped his weapon, and turned to flee. But his legs wouldn't work, and he found himself lying on the ground, trapped.

 

He couldn't see Haven anymore, but he could hear him, each sliding footstep, each labored breath. Then he felt the pain. The burning, shearing pain of his flesh being ripped from his body. It was his neck, the back of his neck, that was ripped off.

 

"Please, please, kill me!" He cried, tears streaming down his face. There was a halt in the pain, and he heard a strange sound. He didn't know what it was, until he finally released it was laughter. The pain resumed, And the weight of the fact that the famed Cuthan Durrwise was to die by being eaten alive, finally solidified itself in Cuthan's doomed soul.

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