The Day The Demon Came (Ionite Thread)

[Preliat Mantis]

I can remember when I first met Preliat Mantis. He was a young man then, no older than 24. He had just been known to the galaxy as the Wolf, and the Mandalorians had recently destroyed a planet. Needless to say, we never thought that any war would come to our doorstep. We were a farming settlement on the fringes of Republic space- what interest would anyone have here? For generations, nothing. Then, the Demon came. He came in the night, he came without warning.

And he came when it was raining.

My father and I, and all my brothers and sisters had completed our chores for the day. We had not done much that day, for the rains forbid a lot of movement out in the fields, unless I wanted a beating from father for ruining good crop. Normally, anybody who came to the door would drive the dogs mad. Barking and scratching at the door, imposing their vicious jaws on any would-be-intruder. But they took no notice of him, no great panic arose from them. Perhaps it was the rain. Perhaps it was the wind that soured their normally articulate senses. Perhaps it was the water dripping off the roof, perhaps it was many things. But I believe because Preliat Mantis is not a man at all. No, there is no man underneath that armor, there is no person, there is only a demon from hell, with forked tongue and horns underneath his helmet.

Father answered the door, perplexed by the dog's silence as much as we were. The knock was loud and rapid, and a bit hurried. There was an odd calm about the house, an odd silence that occupied where noise and conversation typically went. We all noticed it, and our attention fixated on the door, and the man whom father spoke to. We knew something was wrong, when father was scared. My father is a rough man, a man of fifty-three and a build like a bear. But he is no killer like that Demon, he is no warrior. And he was scared when they spoke. That awful man needed something from my father, and my father obliged, not out of his usual kindness- but an intense desire for him to leave.

I wish Preliat had just left then, gone away and never returned and I had never met him. But rarely do monsters, rarely do the worst people in your life, go away when they should've. It is because he stayed, it is because he simply is still alive and out there, that I lie awake most nights. I am older now, I am married with a young child of my own. My wife lies next to me while I write these accounts, while I attempt to transcribe what Preliat is and why he should be vaporized by any decent person when they see him.

This is the story of how the Demon ruined my life. This is how Preliat Mantis ruined my life.

 

[Preliat Mantis]

Preliat Mantis, is an imposing man, of that in which I will freely admit. He stands heads and shoulders taller than myself, and is eye-level with my father, whom is one of the biggest men to ever grace the settlement through it's history. I could not say how he is built, for I only have ever seen him in his armor. His strength comes from his pose, I would wager however. Just the way he carries himself makes him all that the more strong, all that the more imposing. He rarely spoke, I dare say he said no more than fifty words in the entire time I encountered him. And his voice, gravelly and deep, with an accent that my ears have not heard since. I now know it comes from Ordo, a desolate planet, an awful place that spawned an awful man.

He spoke with my father for several minutes, and my father ordered us all to go to our rooms. I heard him moving, pressed against my door. He was going to the spare bedroom! I had yet to see the stranger, yet to see this wonder to behold. I heard him open the door, and knew it was my chance. Oh what childish innocence I was full of. If I had known who he was and what he had done and what was going to do, I would have shut the door and hid under the bed. Now, I would have called the Sith myself to bring down some wrath upon him, and whatever evil they could bring to him. My brother and I quietly opened the door, just enough for our eyes to get a glimpse of the lumbering giant who was walking through our home.

We first saw his boots, the most curious thing- they were covered in metal! And not work boots, no- these were too square, too heavily built. These were warrior's greaves, boots made for stomping and charging. Not for plowing and for working. Our eyes trailed up as he passed, and found themselves locking eyes with what he carried on him. Weapons! We had a blaster in the house, a rifle and a scattergun that we dealt with pesky critters and went hunting on the occasion, but he carried a rifle, one that I have yet to see again. But I knew it was not a hunter's gun, it was not a tool moreso like ours- it was a weapon of a soldier! And what weapons we could see he carried. Two blaster pistols hung on his hips, loose and ready to be drawn like a gunslinging hero of old, and the most famed for which he is now known to wield- his tomahawk. It hung on his right arm, black and long, with a thin, sharp head at the top. One side was flat and large, much like many axes we had seen. But the other side was short and sharp, like the end to a post to which you would dig in the ground. Right away I knew this man was trouble, I grew scared as he lumbered through. Our experience seeing him lasted more than a few moments, perhaps the spaces between seconds more than likely. But I can remember every detail, as if I had a picture in my hand of it all.

But the most memorable, was the helmet he carried in his hands. I could not see his face, nor his head due to the lack of light in the hallway. I only could see the helmet. It was hooded- but the hood was made of metal. It had ridges on the hood, and the T-shape visor, for which all Mandalorians are known- stared back at me and my brother. And perhaps it had some sort of system in it that searched for danger without the warrior knowing, because before he turned to enter the guest room, his body turned towards my room. I could make out a shape, a brown figure above his shoulders. And I realized I was looking him in the eye. His gaze, oh gods his gaze. I have never felt such a paralyzing fear. I ran through all the terrible scenarios in my head of what he would do to me. But he did nothing, he just stared at me for the briefest of moments, then disappeared into his room.

Looking back, I should have locked the door and try to burn him alive inside while he slept.

 

[Preliat Mantis]

The morning came, with restless sleep and endless fever that children have when such excitement arose. Oh how naive we were, how innocent of this monster we let into our home. The dawn came, and we all arose individually to conduct our business of the day. However, Preliat was up before all of us. He had slept very little, but he seemed more alert and alive than all of us in those early hours. We all had our routines, our individual actions that gave us strength for the day. Preliat simply awoke, shaved, and put back on that terrible armor of his- before any of us had even the faintest idea to rise out of bed. I stepped out of my room, and caught him in the hallway. He looked down at me through that terrifying visor, of which I could see the whites of my own eyes in the reflection and how scared I was. He pardoned himself and moved around me. It was then the shouting started. My father came, wagging his finger and yelling at him in a tongue I had never heard him speak at the demon. The Demon stood in the kitchen, stalwart and unflinching as my father said those words to him. And then, the Demon spoke back to him. I know now they were speaking Mando'a. I know now many things that I wish I knew then, things that kept me awake for many years.

Then, my father grew silent and fearful. He made a run for the dining room, where the rifle hung on the wall. As if this mortal instrument could stop this awful man, he pointed at him and shouted. I imagine he told him to leave. Preliat did not flinch, there was no hesitation. Preliat withdrew his weapon and pointed it at my father's leg, and fired. My father collapsed, clutching what remained of his leg in pain. Then, there was a sound, so loud outside that it shook the house. And then there were many. Preliat reacted faster than all of us, and shoved us to the ground. My father screamed and cursed his name, as blaster bolts ripped through our house. Preliat moved out the front door, training his pistol on some unseen enemy, some foe that threatened him more so than us. Preliat's methods were violent, I could only hear the screams of the attackers. I heard many voices, many tongues. I had not yet ventured far into the galaxy yet, and had not many non-humans in my time, and to hear them alone was as frightening as it was exciting. Soon enough, there was only a gentle pitter-patter, an exchange of gunfire, before everything went quiet again. For a long while, I hoped that the Demon had died, I hoped that he had died quickly and there would be no more of him. And that is when I heard a struggle. The struggle began near the door, and then it came close to the house.

Preliat burst through the door, held onto by a beast that I would later learn is a Trandoshan. He was a large beast, towering even over Preliat. He had to hunch over our doorway after throwing Preliat through our front door. Even that did not stop Preliat, even that did not remotely phase him in the slightest, actually. Preliat stood and drew his pistol, but it was quickly slapped away by the beast. The beast grabbed Preliat by the neck, and hoisted him into the air. Preliat did not choke, for his armor around his neck saved him from such a fate.

I watched in complete stillness as Preliat reached down to his boot, and with one motion, kicked the Trandoshan in the chest to no avail, then, pull out a long, thin blade. I thought nothing of it, until it started hissing with the sound of gas being released. The Trandoshan cried out in terrible pain, yelping like an animal, letting go of the Demon. He fell to the floor with a loud thud, and stood tall, watching the Trandoshan's chest swell and frost over. Preliat watched for a moment, and I would imagine this is where he enjoyed it. He wrapped his hands around his neck, those gauntlets of such power, crushing and choking the life out of the beast. He stared down at him, and the beast lashed out, trying to cling to life as if it were a ledge. I felt such pity for him, watching him die like that. Preliat gave another harsh squeeze and the sound of something ripping and snapping made me cringe. The Demon stood tall and walked over to my father, and picked up his pistol from the ground. He spoke to him in basic, a voice that I would like to, but could never forget.

"You can't hide from me."

I counted.

I counted as he put eight shots into my father's chest.