Public Tusken in a Strange World

[Jakkor Kess]

The Tusken elder known as Jakkor Kess spent many of his days tending to his village close to beggars canyon and very close to the Dune Sea. In his early days of his exile he would raid other Moisture farms close by, and now in his elder years he mostly kept his tribe secluded. When gaining new technology he taught his people to integrate it with Tusken life for the sake of survival. The Jedi Master had lost sense of time, but knew he had been out in the sands for decades. In a sense he was serving his own Barrash Vow.

His strength was all but fading, he cozily feel it in his very bones, as he felt the twin suns age him beyond his normal years. His movements were slower, and instead of being out among the sands he remained at camp. Often at night within his tent he would recall stories of another life. Filled with wonder and terror catching many of them in awe as he brandished his laser sword out in the open. Told them of the lives he lived, and how even not all outlanders were bad.

At night he found himself dreaming. A mix of nightmares mostly. Since leaving it all behind he had no idea what was out there. He couldn’t make a difference out there anymore, he tried so many times and yet nothing came of it. Here in the trackless wastes he was left alone. No light, no dark. No Jedi or Sith… No war all the time. He could say he felt a sense of peace.


Even so sitting by the fire with his tribesmen every night, the Tusken often felt out of place. As if the Clone Wars Veteran could want more. He often tried to tell himself to get off world. How? He wasn’t the same young man as he once was, and even then would he be going to war again? Would he end up right back where he began?

His pondering was snapped out for the moment, as one of his scouts entered his tent. What followed was the dialect of grunts, as the scouts relayed to him, someone or something was out there wandering the dune sea. No longer content with just remaining behind. To the scouts surprise he told the scout he would check it out. Within an hour after that, the Jedi was out on a Bantha covered in his desert robes that showed some of his Jedi upbringing. The Force or fate having other ideas for the elder Kess.

 

[Vera Mina]

Wearing: Spy Gear

Armed with:
Laser Knife
Treppus-2 Vibro Blade
Poisoner's Ring
Laser Ring
Light Ring
Hypergem Ring

She had lain broken in the sands after the crash, bone smashed and misaligned, neck snapped, back broken. Normally nothing and no one could survive such catastrophic damage.

But The Android was far from ordinary.

A combination of things worked to revive it. A combination of its own natural healing abilities, the sparse revealing gear she wore, packed to the gills with prototype micro electronics, and two recent upgrades, on an implanted Navardan Regenerator and repair Nanites from another unit.

The mangled, broken mess, bleeding gray blood soon staggered up, flesh shuddering everywhere on its body as it underwent rapid repairs. Soon it looked like an immaculate, pale skinned woman with fiery red hair in a mop like cut.

"Alice" scanned the wreck for survivors. These Mawites had been quite desperate to kill her by the end, up to and including crashing the ship. It had almost worked.

Operative term being "Almost".

She found one Mawite. He had been paralyzed by the crash. Without a word, her fangs were out, zipping over to him and sinking her fangs into his neck, relishing his pained screams as she drained his blood, her flesh warping and shuddering disgustingly as she did, digesting the substance.

Blood trickled down her chin as she rose, sated.

For now.

The Android began searching the wreckage for survival supplies...


Jakkor Kess

 

[Grrh'orruk'rruk]

Jakkor Kess Vera Mina ​

Things were changing on Tatooine. With change came uncertainty, and uncertainty bred worry. It was only natural that Horruk's people would begin to become uneasy, and the Shaman used his visions best he could to put them at ease. One group of outsiders lost their grasp on their world only for another one to come, attempting to take their place. The Ghorfa, as usual, were caught in the middle, and those who fought back were typically gunned down. It's been that way for hundreds, if not thousands, of years, but that didn't mean Horruk had to like it.

The Shaman chieftain was meditating in his tent when a scout entered, bringing word of the sighting of something strange crashing into the Dune Sea. This was far from unusual, but close enough to bear further inspection. Rising from his meditation, Horruk donned his dark cloak, strapping his gaderffii stick to the side of his Skyblade-330 before straddling the bike and heading out into the Dune Sea to investigate.

 

[Darth Moskvin]

Fatal Lullaby

Location: Tatooine
Gear: Staff of the Damned / Talisman of the Witch / Magical Gems / Bow of Immolation / Hilt
Familiar: Archimedes
Tags:​

The body violently squirmed in my grasp, making several attempts to break free from the vice-like grip. His eyes, filled with fright when they fell upon the lifeless corpses of his comrades, viewed his future; and his mind could not shake the realization his life hung on a withering hope that by some miracle of a faux God would send a savior to stay his impending execution. What he thought was an execution, it was nothing more than sating my thirst. I murdered his comrades, lowly pirates and thugs, in cold blood. Their past transgressions sealed a destiny they would never escape. They were murderers themselves, the whole lot, and it was only befitting they suffered a sentence for a murder of a life so young.

I call Dathomir home. From time to time, not so much these days, I return home to pay homage to my Clan Mother. Nightsisters are very welcoming to those that elect to embrace their culture; and defend it rigorously. But even a Sangir like me is hard to fully accept. I am undead and have been for a very long time. Exactly how long, not sure. My memory was damaged during the Kiss, or Embrace, but I know who I am. What I am. I am death to those that seek to harm those that can't rightfully defend themselves. Not all Sangir adhere to such a moral code, and in fact, none do. I am unique in that aspect, for one sole reason. I never asked for this curse. And yes, I have killed my own kind; this galaxy has enough monsters roaming around as is.

Slowly I dragged my executioner's mouth across his neck, feeling the shivers of his flesh ripple underneath torn clothes. But I didn't bite, and I wouldn't. I repositioned my lips to his left ear and whispered, "I have a gift for you, my sweet." Taking my right leg, I drove it down into his right leg with so much force that bones splintered and protruded from the flesh, spurting that crimson sustenance my kind require for survival across the nearby wall, and I robbed his screams by muffling his mouth. I dropped his body on the sand covered floor, watching him shift in excruciating pain. He was immobilized. He was going nowhere. I took a few steps to the rear door and opened it gently. His eyes widened with terror, but his voice had betrayed him. The young teenage girl this band of evil doers had killed now returned from beyond the realm of rot and decay, and fell upon her victim, tearing him limb from limb.

At the conclusion of the macabre death scene, I looked at the young girl with flakes of flesh hanging from her distorted teeth, simply and quietly said, "And now, my beauty, you may rest eternally." With haunting speed, I removed her head. I don't carry out justice for mere credits, I enjoy what I do. I theorize I'm a monster too, only a different kind.