Day 3 | Morning | The Second Dream

[Kannon]

For Laila, for the time being, there was only darkness, and the incipient dread.

[Laila will have difficulty of all her rolls against any Tleilaxu upgraded until she rolls a Triumph on such a roll. A Despair will cause irrational fear as the memories of her own dream-death will kick in, working as Scattered Crit.]

[Kiran!]

[Kiran Alsahar]

"Laila!" Kiran distracted as Laila went still, their shot going wide.

Shotting agaaaaain! With 1 aim: 2eA+1eB+1eC 0 successes, 4 advantage


[Star Wars dice continue to delay the end of combat lol]

[Kannon]

Using that moment of distraction, the relentless Tleilaxu landed his scratch, just enough for the contact poison to get into Kiran's bloodstream. This one was even more immediate, taking out muscle control. The grey man watched in satisfaction as they struggled for breath that wasn't coming. When death came, it was a relief. Everything left behind, the battle of Ix, ceased to matter.

Scratch!: 1eP+1eA+2eD 1 success


[Same effect as Laila.]

...and when both regained a sliver of conscousness, each in their own time, their horror continued, with Marek's ugly grin hovering over them.

"You are stronger sligs than those savages. Curious. Time to push the limit then."

Their bodies, gripped in terror and haze, couldn't even react to the incoming jab. The purpose sleeping in Duncan's cells jettisoned them all where they by no means should be going...

[End of Thread]

[Laila Bridger]

[Posted by special GM permission]

She'd died. She'd been poisoned by that little Teilaxu and she'd... died.

So why was she so... alive?

It was the fighting, that must be it. Fighting had made her feel alive ever since Prad Vidal had made his treasonous move. It was all she had.

Grumman burned, and they burned it and burned with it.

There had been one hundred of them when they had mustered out, the Honor Guard of House Vidal. One hundred young women- girls, really, when the training had begun- from Elacca with the right combination of physical fitness, good looks, and willingness to follow orders to suit Duke Prad Vidal's vanity project.

Eighty had landed on Grumman.

There were thirty of them left now.

Laila had a small eternity to look into the eyes of the man-boy, really- she had just killed. He was cute. The sort of boy she would have gladly stolen a kiss from if they'd met at a festival or a dance. Instead they'd met here, and she twisted the knife the way Auntie had taught her to, then withdrew it, letting him drop to the ground.

She was smiling, even as she leveled her pistol at one of his companions, a young man whose flickering shield he was frantically trying to get activated in time. Not quick enough, her shot took him dead in the face.

No time to hold still, holding still got you killed.

Behind her, she heard Auntie barking orders, but they were just to keep pressing in on the warehouse the Grummans were holed up in.

On her left, a pretty Muadh girl stared silently out of the jungle that hadn't been there, her face a mask of horror.

"What are you looking at?"

The girl trilled in fear and disgust, then fled into the jungle which hadn't been there, but then neither had the Muadh.
Whatever. Running in disgust made her the sensible one here.

Laila turned in time to see her friend Marina borne down, outmuscled by a man- stronger, sure, and bigger, but he only killed her- crushed her throat- because she'd lost her knife.

If only she'd had the right sharp rocks.

Duncan, her old friend Duncan who she hadn't even met at the time this miserable fight had gone down, stepped up and put his sword right through the torso of the man who'd just killed Marina. What was he doing here? The Atreides wouldn't be in the area for another three days.

It hadn't happened this way. It had been worse.

Laila cut down another Grumman soldier, who looked kind of familiar.

He looked like that Efren guy.
The Lanville bastard's bastard. Wasn't he an Atreides soldier? Weren't they on the same side?

...

Was Hadrian here?

I hope not, I hope not, oh please let him be far from here, living a peaceful life, bitching about his father's bad business decisions and just waiting for a no-good blood-mad harpy with a broken wing to crash into his life.

Something exploded. Auntie was screaming in pain.

This was right. This was how it had happened. Auntie was dead and Muriel would take command now, but like Laila, she wasn't a leader, just a fighter, a killer.

Too blood-thirsty for her own good, or anyone else's.

Thanks to that, there would be fifteen of them left when they reached the warehouse.

Muriel led her squad into a crossfire, concealed Grummans banging off shots from slow-pellet stunners, then dashing out to knife their downed foes.

Laila was laughing. Or screaming. Both? At the time, it had been both as she launched herself at the enemy.

A manta-bird swooped low, and she heard Ambrose, who'd set them down without any of them getting hurt, screaming for a medic.

But he's the medic.

The screams terminated in a gurgle.

Kiran was over by the remains of Muriel's squad, offering up some kind of weird dancing prayer as the combat raged around them.

As if any God who would allow this would listen to prayers, it was stupid, a total waste of time, but...

But Kiran is my friend. We died together on Ix. They tried to help me, I tried to help them. Because that's what we...

No time.

Laila slit the throat of the Old Mother, who had been so kind, so welcoming, and kicked her dying body into the hands of the pale little monster with the arrogant face. The Tleilaxu. He stared at her in bland hatred, and oh, how she wanted to see him afraid, like the time she'd almost gotten his nose with her forehead, but the sight of him chilled her blood, nearly made her drop her weapons.

Because he'd killed her.

He kept killing her.

He's poisoned me already and I just want to live, for the first time in YEARS I want to live and he's going to KILL me-

He was gone, she was so beneath his contempt that he hadn't even bothered, and why not? The battle would finish her off.

She'd never see Hadrian again. Never tell him he'd made a mistake, that he could, should do better, find someone who wasn't such a complete basket case.

Where was he? Everyone else was here, killing and dying, why was he so special?

Because he doesn't belong here with a dead-ender like me. I want to see him.

I want to tell him to leave me.
I want to beg him to stay with me, help me forget as much of this as I can.

Rabban had just stabbed Bern-Hadrian called him Bern, it was sweet- in the side and was twisting the knife. Laila made to charge him, but Duncan got there first, cutting the Harkonnen's head from his shoulders, so she turned her attention back to the fleeing, panicked Grummans.

This was right, this was how it had been. They'd broken and run.

Laila pounced, running down the rearmost and jamming her blade between his shoulder blades. His lungs would flood, and most likely he'd drown in his own blood, but then, they were all drowning in blood, this was what she was for, and why her dreams of raising children among grape vines on Caladan with a kind and loving man like Hadrian were just that, dreams.

She flipped the body onto its back, and of course, of course, it turned out she'd found Hadrian after all. They were meant to be, but given what she was, this was all the future they'd have together.

Laila was definitely screaming, not laughing, as the dream faded.