House Wayku

[Dante]

I figured that most of the Dune/House based fics have always been centred on the concept of different factions opposing each other, from different planets. Generally, there has also been an element of strength to these battles that results quite often in god-modding. Therefore, I have decided to try something new. This is an experiment partly to see how posters will react to (technically) all being part of the same faction, and also to see if the format which will be explained in a moment will prevent said god modding. Maybe.

The history: House Wayku was once a House Major of the Landsraad council, possessing all of the inherant rights of their position. During the Third Coalsack War, however, they were disgraced and exiled from the Imperium by the Padishah Emperor for crimes that few remember and fewer care about. The Guild, however, struck a deal and offered a place of sanctuary to the exiled house, since Heighliners are technically not Imperial property. Over time House Wayku grew into the role of peddlers and salesemen, forbidden to leave the Heighliners.

[Notes: Common areas of the Heighliners, as well as House Wayku itself, were invented in the prequels. Also many thanks to Vanguard for confirming this for me. :) ]

The present: House Wayku has been technically exiled from the Imperium for several hundred years now (I'm kind of making this bit up), and some are finally beginning to question their lifestyle. The Wayku on different Heighliners are beginning to look to different leaders to unite them, and bring back the old glory. Some favour petitioning the Emperor, others a more... direct approach. After all, they can go anywhere on any Heighliner. Some have begun making diplomatic gestures in the direction of the other powers in the Imperium, including the Tleilaxu, Ixians, Bene Gesserit, and Landsraad. But to regain power as a house, the Wayku must first be united, one Heighliner at a time.

The Rules:

1) Create your own character. They must be a member of House Wayku, but any rank is acceptable. They can have had influences with other parties (being a ghola, limited BG training, etc), but not members of them.

2) Characters can be created on the same, or different Heighliners.

3) The fic is not confined to Heighliners, but remember that any member of House Wayku who sets foot on a planet is breaking the law and if caught, will be punished. Probably executed.

4) The Great Convention forbids violence on Heighliners. Deal with this as you see fit.

5) House Wayku has no centralised leadership and no centralised funds, no planets (they were all destroyed) and no ships. Not of their own at any rate. Remember this.

6) The Wayku have no atomics; and partly because of this they are banned from this thread, with the exception of stone burners. Also I just don't like them.

7) EDIT: Every time a Wayku sets foot off a Heighliner, I'll generate a random number from 100. If the number is 1-10 the first post, the Wayku is immediately arrested. Any other numbers allow continued freedom. The second post (of that particular poster) will change to 1-20, the third 1-50, the fourth 1-70. It will stay at 1-70 until the Wayku leave the planet, or something happens to disrupt the pattern. Leaving the planet will not restart the process, but setting foot on a different planet will. This is a basic rule, and situations (such as being hunted) may change the likelihood of being arrested.

There we go. It's about time another Dune fic took off, so who's interested?

[The_Sadukar]

I'll join, though I might need some time to conjure a character up :P

[Dunenewt]

"Excuse me Sir, would you like to buy..."

Another person ignored him.

"Hello there, would you be interested..."

And another.  D'Newt had grown tired of life on a heighliner where all the people from him once great house are forced to serve.  Scattered amongst the many heighliners travelling throughout the known universe, the people of the exiled House Wayku were now just souvenir sellers, just a pawn of the Guild.

"Wayku, Wayku..."

He muttered under his breath.  He wished for his House to retain its former glory. But how?  The Emperor would surely not just accept them back into the Landsraad, and neither would the Landsraad itself.  He was not a political man, and this is as far as his politics went.  Maybe it was time to make some new friends. 

Aboard the heighliner was the Guild Steersman Leetil who was rumoured to have one of the best minds in the whole Imperium.  As a senior salesman, he had access to the Navigator, but only through a small hole.  He would have to try and speak to him alone for D'Newt had many questions which he needed answering, and a Guild Navigator  could surely answer these questions.

[Dante]

Hooray! Participants!

The Trinity sat with their heads bowed around a broken table, rummaging through the various bits and pieces that their lesser kin had managed to 'obtain' from the passengers of the Heighliner travelling from Arrakis to Kaitan. Here was a roll of shigawire, to be examined later. A broken maula pistol that someone had thrown away, could be repaired. Vast quantities of broken junk, some weapons, scrap metal and plascrete shards... The pieces were taken from the jumble and sorted into appropriate piles.

A small container of melange was set aside especially, along with a baliset with only four strings and a damaged shield belt. A rusty sword was examined carefully before being added to the scrap metal heap. These were the takings for this journey, and they were richer than usual. It had been a good haul. One by one, each of the Trinity sat back, finished.

"The melange was a surprising find." Vierna Wayku muttered with a hint of worry, eyeing the small container. "I hope Ymbris didn't do anything overt to obtain it."

"If so, we will soon find out about it." Her brother Alexander reassured her, concentrating on the scraps of a lasgun that had been found in a garbage chute. "I'm sure anyone who has 'lost' melange will be more than eager to pay a small ammount of its value to have it back anyway."

"A risky bet." Vierna replied, noting the slight blue tinge to Alexander's eyes that spoke of over-fondness of the spice. Her brother noticed her look, and smiled guiltily. It was a habit he had picked up from an old friend, now long gone...

"How much of this will we be selling to the smugglers?" The third member of the Heighliner's ruling council asked, holding up a metal scrap. "There is enough here for considerable bargaining leverage, and we might sell the melange at a greater profit to them as well. This would also mean that it is no longer in our possession."

"The smugglers get enough of their melange from the damned source." Alexander growled, "They get it straight from Arrakis; Tym, they have no need of ours."

"The Guild, then?" Tymtyrr suggested. "They will buy spice from any source."

"Not if it might have been stolen aboard one of their own Heighliners." Vierna sighed in frustration. Tymtyr could be so dense sometimes!

"We can leave this for later." Alexander muttered, "That's the loot for this trip, now on to... our own matters." A silence filled the sound-dampened room for a moment, each of the three councilors pondering the situtation of the Wayku.

"We are not the only potential leaders of the House on this Heighliner." Alexander stated finally. "We have the funds, yes; but not the manpower and not the support. There is competition."

"If they would make better leaders, we must defer to them." Vierna said, leaning forward. "We must not think only of ourselves, but of the future of House Wayku."

"A House requires one ruler, we all know that." Tymtyrr said, "But we are a council of three, and there are others out there."

'Well obviously!' Vierna thought furiously to herself, but concealed the thoughts behind a masked expression that her brother had taught her.

"We need more infomation. More 'data,' as a mentat might put it." Alexander sighed. "We are in no position to make a decision right now."

This was true, Vierna thought. The Trinity were the unopposed trade masters aboard their own Heighliner, known among the Wayku as 'Heighliner Trin,' but commerce was their only strong point. There were other Wayku on other Heighliners, they knew, who possessed caches of stolen arms. The Trinity had sacrificed that line in favour of economic strength. They traded with the smugglers, mostly, but also maintained lines to outside sources, most notably the Bene Gesserit through one particular Reverend Mother. They had lieutenants, and a few armed personel, but as with most Wayku, they were primarily served by peddlers like Ymbris, a minor cousin.

There was no way to trace the Wayku ancestry anymore. Nearly everyone claimed to have a direct link to the old noble bloodline, but few could prove it. Due to the hesitance of outsiders to join the Wayku and the resulting tendancy to inbreed, chances were that everyone had a line anyway. Alexander and Vierna, like most Wayku, only claimed the connection in order to further their own gains. Tymtyrr was an honourary Wayku, invited into the House for reasons that were officially 'undisclosed.'

Vierna sighed, wishing that the handsome ex-smuggler would spread his genes a bit.

"We can come back to this later." Alexander interrupted his sister's train of thought, "For now, I know there are more spices to be sold than usual and the passenger list from Kaitan to Caladan is smaller than usual, so we'd better get busy."

[Vanguard3000]

Sorry for the rushed feel of this.  I don't know if I'll be able to follow this, but I like the premise too much to abstain from trying.

"See the blade on it?  Feel the chill of the steel?"

The fat man touched the edge of the Entertainer's dagger, and his skeptical gaze lifted slightly.  To his left sat his whore of a wife, absently smoking a slim stimshoot.  The blue wisps of smoke smelled sweet, with a hint of cinnamon, as it curled into the ventilators.

Melange.  Such waste.  But then - waste is life for the noble.

Behind them, the boy watched with mock enthusiasm.

"And would your lovely lady like to test it as well?"

The fat man smiled at the whore, and she rolled her eyes.  As she reached for the dagger, the boy's hands flashed silently.  The speed with which she turned the blade in her hand betrayed her boredom.  She returned it, and the boy moved on.

The Entertainer spun the blade on the tip of his finger, tantalizing the crowd.  All but the boy; he had seen it all before.  Blood trickled down the Entertainer's finger... his hand... his arm... and as a single drop hit the deck plate, he tossed the blade, caught it by the handle, and plunged the cool blade into his stomach.  The crowd gasped as he keeled over, the tip of the once silver blade a crimson spire jutting from his back, but it was not a gasp of concern.  It was a gasp of bloodlust.

People are so uniform in their vices, thought the Entertainer, as he let out an inaudible chuckle, which became a chilling laugh as he straightened, then arched his back, arms outstretched as if crucified.  Facing the fat man and the whore, and ensuring the audience to his sides could see the bloodied tip of the blade, he pulled on the handle of the dagger sharply.  Another gasp, then awe as the 'blade' of the dagger revealed itself as a boquet of white roses.  The fat man beamed and applauded with the crowd as the Entertainer offered the boquet to his wife.  The whore accepted as the applause reached a peak.

"How did he do it?"

"The flowers weren't hidden!  The blade isn't still in his back!"

"Impossible!  Brilliant!"

The crowd filed out.  Back to their quarters and their rich, melange-laced lives.  All but the boy, who waited in the shadows until everyone had left.

"A good haul today, Zephryn?" asked the Entertainer, as he wiped his bloody hand on a kerchief.

"Yes, father.  A good haul today."  The boy took a handful of the coins, jewelery, and other baubles hidden in his overlarge pockets.  In one hand, the boy held the whore's package of melange stimshoots.  "These alone can buy us a kindjal for every Wayku on this ship, at least!"

The Entertainer laughed.  "Not so fast, Zephryn.  We're not ready for war yet.  Besides, you know what they say-"

"The pen is mightier than the sword."  Said the boy, thoughtfully.  Again, the Entertainer laughed.

"In time, we'll be formidable House.  We'll have planets and ships of our own - the Corrinos and their decree of exile be damned!.  And we'll not waste our wealth and good fortune like those we perform infantile tricks for here!  ...And you, Zephryn, will make an excellent Duke."

[GhostHunter]

Confined poverty

[Dante]

Vierna glared at her reflection, holding her hair up behind her head in a messy copy of a new fashion from Kaitan. She didn't like it. It pulled on the back of her neck, also leaving it exposed for a blow. Letting her hair drop again, she sighed and picked up a simple comb, beginning to brush it carefully in order to preserve the few remaining teeth. Looking into the dirty mirror, she was yet again struck by how ironic it was that the Trinity, possibly the wealthiest Wayku aboard Heighliner Trin, lived in abject poverty. Their hard-won (stolen, she corrected) solari were far too important to be wasted on trivial frivolities. A tooth snapped off the comb, and Vierna cursed under her breath. Pulling it out of her hair, she turned back to the mirror.

She looked... natural, she decided. She wore nothing on her face, and was counting on her persuasve way with words rather than her physical charms for this jump. She glanced unwillingly down at a golden Corrino broach that lay on her desk. She had planned on wearing it this time, but the Imperial House had apparantly decided to transfer shuttles from Caladan this time, and with other Corrinos wandering about, she daren't risk it. She would have to do without impersonation.

* * *

Alexander Wayku, pulled a fishbone out of his hair, but kept his mouth tightly closed. Cursing in such an enclosed space would carry far along the air ducts of Heighliner Trin. Who knows where they might emerge? He examined the bone for any potential value, before adding it to the third package at his side. Small, non-descript brown bags, they were lined thickly to prevent noise. He himself needed no such aid, slipping silently along through the air ducts and rubbish chutes with narry a whisper. Occasionally he met other Wayku, who said nothing but communicated through a sequence of hand signals developed specifically for this reason.

Alexander had already patrolled most of the Heighliner, knowing its layout by heart now. He had collected valubles or machinery in the second bag, and general rubbish in the third. You could sell anything, if you knew the right person. The first bag held replacement parts for the few Ixian devices scattered about Heighliner Trin. The Ixians had refused to deal with the Wayku, or at any rate with the Trinity, but bits and pieces turned up nevertheless. People were so careless. The list was simple.

Two gas reducers, that sat in the air ducts and filtered out anything solid from the mass, even trace aerosols.

Three stationary watcheyes (repaired after the Guild threw them out), placed in strategic locations.

One motion-capable watcheye.

One lasgun, for emergencies only.

Four Ixian sound-detectors. For tracing other Wayku as well as travellers.

One by one, Alexander checked them and repaired them when necessary, making sure to collect anything he found on the way. He did not try to avoid the many Guild watcheyes that patrolled the ducts, they knew him well enough. His job finished for the next few hours, Alexander proceeded through a wide ventilation shaft that ran directly over one of the few public gathering places on board. He paused at a grille, peering carefully out. Espionage was a way of life as well, and occasionally the Trinity discovered things well worth selling.

There was a bar in one corner, so this was not a gathering place for nobles. And, indeed, the noise and smell were certainly not befitting a Great House, or even a House Minor. Yes, Alexander noted, there were many parties leaving Caladan today. Or was it tonight? Considering the fact that he had never set foot on a planet, he hardly thought it mattered.

There were the Atreides soldiers, of course, laughing amongst themselves with... Alexander squinted, a Richesian group? Well, why not? And there at the bar were more Atreides, and a few Ixians, a man who looked like he might be Bourbon. On the other side of him, a Destrym? Alexander's eyes widened by a fraction in surprise. A soldier of House Destrym talking with... Alexander's sister. Veirna looked totally at ease, which for some reason upset her brother. The Destrym was quite clearly about to totter into her clutches, money and all. Alexander suppressed an urge to sigh, and moved quietly on.

* * *

The two men circled each other warily one limping and other other bleeding heavily from a cut above his eye. Tymtyrr smiled smugly behind his hand. He was in for a profit and no mistake. He charged the wrestlers for entry. He charged the crowds for watching. He took bets that would pay a profit no matter who won, and he did it every single jump.

The man with the cut leapt forward, and the limper rose to meet him... only to find himself grasping at air. The smaller man was already underneath him, kicking his knees out from under him and rolling out of the way as his opponent crashed to the floor for the third time in the fight. The limper had actually been the faster of the two, but with his leg injured he was unable to match the other fighter, who was already leaping on top of him to punch him four times in quick succession. Tymtyrr let the punching continue until he was sure that the loser would not get back up, before he raised his hand and blew the whistle to signal the end of the fight. The winner paused in mid-punch, his hand shaking, the look on his face clearly indicating that he wanted to keep going. He gritted his teeth. The crowd waited, their frantic cheering of a few moments before now hushed. Seconds passed.

The man dropped his hand. Tymtyrr relaxed.

"Congratulations to the winner, Marotin of House Ordos!" He stepped forward over the red line, clapping as he did so to encourage the crowd. As if they needed it. The wiry Marotin was immediately engulfed in a tide of jubilant men and women. They held him aloft, and cheered his name, parading around the hall while Tymtyrr indicated to the loser's friends that they could take him away now. The unfortunate bleeder, of a house that Tym could not quite recall at this point, was quickly hauled away for treatment. The first bet winners started trying to attract Tym's attention for their money, and he turned back to them with his usual, disarming smile.

* * *

"I've deposited my own collections in the sorting room." Alexander reported, "I'd have gone through it myself, but I felt like seeing how you were doing down here." He indicated the dark, oppressive hall of the fight. Tymtyrr grinned without looking up from his counting, remembering that unlike her brother, Vierna wouldn't set foot inside the room.

"It's been a good jump, Alex." He commented, using the name that nobody else was allowed to. "Only two fights, but some heavy bets. I think perhaps they might have been given a raise or something."

"Not too much damage, I hope?" Alexander asked casually. Like Vierna, he was always worried that one day someone would go too far and the Guild, who so far had turned a blind eye to these competitions in the bowels of the Heighliner, would intervene.

"One of the men was a little worse than he could have been; I should really have stopped it sooner." Tymtyrr looked up as he finished his counting, "But I don't think he'll be complaining. He lost to an Ordos."

Despite himself, Alexander giggled. "He lost to an Ordos? Without their gases the Ordos are just dried slig jerky!"

"Well he was certainly on the thin side," Tymtyrr commented, "but he was definately an Ordos. What about you, anything special?"

"No, though my sister might have something." Alexander said. "Listen, before she finishes I'd like to talk to you about other Heighliners. I'd like to know what you think before I ask her."

Sensing the shift in conversation, Tymtyrr sat back, stretching, before returning to his position.

"Yes?"

"I think we need to expand. I think we need to investigate other Heighliners."

OOC: Was thinking about planets, and here's a proper method for 'em. Every time a Wayku sets foot off a Heighliner, I'll generate a random number from 100. If the number is 1-10 the first post, the Wayku is immediately arrested. Any other numbers allow continued freedom. The second post (of that particular poster) will change to 1-20, the third 1-50, the fourth 1-70. It will stay at 1-70 until the Wayku leave the planet, or something happens to disrupt the pattern. Leaving the planet will not restart the process, but setting foot on a different planet will. I'll add this to the rules.

*Note* I don't actually know anything about houses Bourbon or Destrym, other than that they were in Vanguard's list, here. Thanks Vanguard! Er, again!