Post by Nartaga on May 26, 2014 2:33:34 GMT -8
This is a continuation of a storyline I started back on 1.5, and will try and post regularly on it. I ask that anyone who comes across this give me a little bit of feedback, and maybe a tad bit of advice on the story, but please refrain from posting here without my permission.
Shifting Sands Part Two
Four years.....Four years had passed since the traitor Nartaga had left him in the cave. Four years since the war with the Dark Possessed had left the Enclave taken by the demons. Four years of wandering aimlessly through the sands, running from the horrors following them. K'Irk'Ir raised his head and looked over the beaten Tuskens following his lead. Where were they headed? Where could they go? The Jawas had locked themselves in their sandcrawlers. The Offworlders only thought of them as savages, and only good for shooting and killing. The Enclave was lost to them, now held by the Dark Possessed. They were alone. Even their fellow Tuskens did not lift a finger to help them. Allies turned their backs to them as outcasts. They no longer had a home, and therefore had no honor.
The Battle was lost, but the War raged on, all around them. Clans that had survived thousands of years were wiped from the face of the sands. The sands were shifting, and not in their favor.
K'Irk'Ir turned his head as he heard a scream in the formation. Turning his Bantha in the direction, the beast galloped at surprising speed for its girth. He readied his Cycler rifle for the coming skirmish, but when he arrived at the source he was relieved, and at the same time saddened, that it was only a medical wagon. Getting off his Bantha he approached the wagon, going up to a healer, who pointed to a female Tusken who was shrieking at the top of her lungs. The tarp covered body whom he assumed was either a son or husband explained the distress she was letting lose. The Shaman Healer moved to console the grieving woman and motioned for the wagon to continue.
All K'Irk'Ir could do was get back on his Bantha and continue on, hoping to find a safe place for what remained of the R'Crurak clan.
Shifting Sands Part Two
Four years.....Four years had passed since the traitor Nartaga had left him in the cave. Four years since the war with the Dark Possessed had left the Enclave taken by the demons. Four years of wandering aimlessly through the sands, running from the horrors following them. K'Irk'Ir raised his head and looked over the beaten Tuskens following his lead. Where were they headed? Where could they go? The Jawas had locked themselves in their sandcrawlers. The Offworlders only thought of them as savages, and only good for shooting and killing. The Enclave was lost to them, now held by the Dark Possessed. They were alone. Even their fellow Tuskens did not lift a finger to help them. Allies turned their backs to them as outcasts. They no longer had a home, and therefore had no honor.
The Battle was lost, but the War raged on, all around them. Clans that had survived thousands of years were wiped from the face of the sands. The sands were shifting, and not in their favor.
K'Irk'Ir turned his head as he heard a scream in the formation. Turning his Bantha in the direction, the beast galloped at surprising speed for its girth. He readied his Cycler rifle for the coming skirmish, but when he arrived at the source he was relieved, and at the same time saddened, that it was only a medical wagon. Getting off his Bantha he approached the wagon, going up to a healer, who pointed to a female Tusken who was shrieking at the top of her lungs. The tarp covered body whom he assumed was either a son or husband explained the distress she was letting lose. The Shaman Healer moved to console the grieving woman and motioned for the wagon to continue.
All K'Irk'Ir could do was get back on his Bantha and continue on, hoping to find a safe place for what remained of the R'Crurak clan.