Hoary Tales of Dune: Fanfic with a Bite

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As a new pall settles over the Duniverse, come here to read of Arrakeen breakfasts and the fashion depredations of Kailea, who taught Erasmus everything he needed to know about stiletto heels. And remember, nothing is sacred.

Dune Fan Fiction Contest 2011 Entry #1

Posted By Talos Aquinas on July 21, 2011

The Confession
Wisdom, like Muad’Dib and Shai-Hulud, was born in the desert.
—Korba the Panegyrist
I remember the days when everything was simpler.  We Fremen used dew collectors to catch water, we hunted Harkonnen patrols, sayyadinas would bless the Water of Life … we still had the desert!  You claim to know us Fremen, but sometimes I wonder…
[The guards are called back before they could harm the accused.]
What makes you think I know anything about Muad’Dib?  He was trapped, as all living gods are trapped.  Who was truly at the center of our worlds-spanning panopticon?  We Fremen didn’t see that, of course, and it is only now, nine years since he left us, that I can say with any certainty that we are the ones who killed Muad’Dib.  I can see it in her eyes.  She knows.
Stop where you stand my former colleagues.  The Reagent asked me of Muad’Dib, and I think I’ve earned the right to say my piece.
Besides, I do not think I’ll survive the night.

I was about ten years of age when the name ‘Muad’Dib’ first fell upon my ears.  He had just killed Jamis, who had invoked the amtal rule.  Although I had no real interaction with him, I had once played with his sons, Kaleff and Orlop.  They were pleasant and friendly enough, so of course I felt a pang of grief when I learned of Jamis’ fate.
It was strange enough that it was an off-worlder to defeat Jamis in the tahaddi-challenge, but what struck me was that this ‘Muad’Dib’ had given water to the dead.  Like the rest, I found myself deeply stirred.  Even to this day, I can’t even imagine what it was like for those who actually witnessed this at Cave of the Ridges.
I was a friend of Jamis.  However, if there was ever a man to lead us against the vile Harkonnen, it would be Muad’Dib, champion of Jessica of the Weirding.
Selim, from my sietch of Cave of Birds, had gone to Sietch Tabr to learn the weirding ways from Muad’Dib to become one of his fedaykin.  Though I watched his movements and listened to his words, Selim would not let me participate.  I was still a little mouse to him, despite having already ridden a worm.  Even though I respected him as friend and teacher, his admonishment of teaching the weirding ways forced me to learn in secret.
No small wonder my awe of Muad’Dib only continued to grow.  Although I was too young to fight with them against the corrupt, water-fat Harkonnen and their so-called Emperor, I saw fit to enlist in Muad’Dib’s jihad when I was a little older.
And why wouldn’t I have joined his jihad?  The supposed Great Houses profaned the name of our Mahdi when they declared rebellion.  Our cause was just.  Our religion is just … but then I heard the statistics on those killed and I shuddered.
Were I not Fremen I would gladly give water to those poor souls, those that had no chance against the Fremen and Muad’Dib’s Fedaykin.
We say of Muad’Dib that he has gone on a journey into that land where we walk without footprints … the only time I truly felt the breadth of His words was the day I entered the Qizarate.  I can still remember Muad’Dib saying: ‘The real universe is always a step beyond logic.  There is peril in finding ultimate perfection.  Such perfection is bound by its own fixity.  In an ultimate perfection, all things move toward death.’
I think it was the first time I felt that I had became something more. My eyes and ears opened up and I felt a connection to my ruh-spirit.  I became one of the select few tasked with protecting His Words and holy name.  Through His Words I felt the unknowable alam al-mythal made real and tangible.
Looking back, I realize that he was just going through the motions and had probably said this to all the new initiates, and had I known this then I would have been angry.  Now I recognize that that moment was but a pebble cast into the lake of His Knowing and Understanding.  How does one such as me compare to the troubles of a living god?
Funny, I never would have been able to imagine a thing such as a lake had I not joined in jihad.
It was a shame when the stone burner blinded him, forcing our Mahdi to walk into the desert alone.  I had always thought Korba to be a loyal, trustworthy Fremen, but, seeing now with the open eyes Muad’Dib always wanted from us, his guilt was true.
Korba the Panegyrist had became a sort of father figure to me.  As a fedaykin, he knew the Lisan al-Gaib in a way denied to most.  Though I was no fedaykin, we both had fought for the honor of our Mahdi and both of us found a much needed tranquility in the qizarate that jihad had taken from us.  Korba was one of the few I felt truly knew the scars created by jihad.
If only I had been able to see the signs of Korba’s betrayal.  I should have seen it!  Perhaps I could have stayed him from that course.  Every night I’m plagued by this thought; I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself that.
Muad’Dib was a great man, Reagent, and I saw the signs of greatness in both young Leto and Ghanima.  Though we are all in mourning for the lost lad, I cannot believe that Leto is truly gone from us.  An even greater fire burns in him than did his father, and as we all know Muad’Dib was never one to be taken lightly.
The desert is a part of him, now and forever.
So, how can I denounce him?  He was our Lisan al-Gaib.  The Misr loved him.  They love him still.
[Despite the claims of the inquisitor, there were no hints of Voice on the accused tongue.]
Stilgar recently related to me words from young Leto: ‘Have you noticed how beautiful the young women are this year?’ Most would say that Leto was finally feeling the pangs of preadolescence, but I see it differently for I know that he was like you, Reagent.  Though it may not seem like it, when I was younger I had played the challenge game and, like Stilgar, I can see a hidden wisdom behind these seemingly casual words.
It is something I think Muad’Dib would have said had he lived, I believe.
The world of the Fremen is changing; I can see that our ways are slowly dying out.  And, no, Reagent, despite what you claim of me, I am not like Muad’Dib though perhaps I’m just able to sense the mortality in all things, Reagent.
[Hands quickly moved to crysknives, though a glare from the Reagent kept the blades sheathed.]
As long as Ghanima lives, Muad’Dib’s wisdom and knowledge continue to exist in this world.  That is the world I desire to live in.  A great coriolis storm is coming, and I fear what may befall Naib Stilgar.  He is a good Fremen and is undeserving of what you plan.
As I said before, I cannot denounce him, coan-teen, any more than I could denounce my being Fremen.
I was a friend of Muad’Dib.  May your blade chip and shatter.
—confession to St. Alia of the Knife by an unknown qizara accused of being prescient

McDune Parody Contest Winners!

Posted By Talos Aquinas on March 27, 2011

This has already been announced in this thread on Jacurutu, but the results of the voting are in and we have our winners in this year’s McDune Parody Contest:

First Place:

Entry #3 by Ampoliros (on Jacurutu)

Second Place:

Entry #1 by Nekhrun (on Jacurutu)

Third Place:

Entry #7 by Dante (on Jacurutu)


And Happy Birthday, KJA!

Oh, right, almost forgot:

Honorable Mention for Dumbfuckery:

Entry #5 by Lolronica

McDune Parody Contest Entry: #10

Posted By Talos Aquinas on March 1, 2011

“There is nothing more dangerous than when your two ultimate enemies make common cause.”
—Jahbah The’thutt, Spice Privateer.

Reverend Mother (Ret.) Solaraseraph looked across the fine synthetic Elacca wood table at her diminutive opponent.  He’s taken this appearance to fool me, but he is the fool!  I can see right through him!  She used her trained Bene Gesseritt powers of observation to peer into the little man and through him.  Scanning the doors behind him she detected traces of the two Face Dancer Jongleur Assault Guards which stood just outside the door way.  The Deadliest in the Universe!  Completely undetectable to my skills!  Even this one will be carrying hidden weapons…There! Flick darts in his sleeves, very devious.  I must not Fear…  She scanned the little elf in front of her, peering through his green jerkin, noticing his heart rhythm maintain a steady pace.  He is good at controlling his fear, but I can see right through him! Literally!  I wonder how much I could barter from him for that secret!  She returned her gaze outward to his whole being.  The Tleilaxu was regarding her patiently, allowing her to process her observation.

“Your name, in Old Earth speak it means “Sun Angel”.  From your glorious blonde hair I see you choose to accentuate this fact.  Perhaps after our dealings here we should negotiate for that genetic quality.”  The Ronin Tleilaxu Master X’vxxizfg’p3po eyed the beauty.  True enough he could assume her buxom form now just through the casual yet traditional handshake they had made before he held out her chair.  It was an ancient tradition from when women were seen to be weaker than men, yet even this undoubtedly powerful Reverend Mother had betrayed a slight blush that only his metal Tleilaxu eyes could detect.  What they do with the power of the mind we do with the Language of God: Science!

“And what are we here to deal for?” Solaraseraph countered.  “What would the Tleilaxu want with a Rogue Reverend Mother?”  X’vxxizfg’p3po eyed her up and down with a look that said “You are a sex object, you have always been a sex object, you will always be a sex object”.  “Many things.  Things within Things.  Maybe even Things within Things within Things, I’m a shapeshifter afterall.   And a master of absorption due to my Face Dancer skills.”  She saw where his gaze was.

McDune Parody Contest Entry: #9

Posted By Talos Aquinas on February 28, 2011

“These boots are made for walkin’, and that’s just what they’ll do”
—a song from Old Earth; and from Erasmus’s music collection,
which he keeps next to his Van Gogh reproduction.

“Ultimate Kwisatz?! You’ve lost something in the sack after the last 26 years being on the Ithaca,” said Murbella as she rolled out of bed next to Duncan Idaho on Synchrony. “What the hell were you doing while we were in the middle of…What was that glazed look in your eye? Who were you yelling at?”

Duncan put his pants on, one leg at a time, just like every other ultimate super-being. “Oh, since I am the Evermind, and in charge of each and every machine in the cosmos, I was telling the machine food processing units on Chapterhouse to ‘step it up a bit’.” Duncan turned around, and began yelling towards the ceiling at no one in particular. “Yeah, you, Daltrox 3000. I don’t care if you served on Synchrony. I’ve assigned you to Chapterhouse!”

Murbella continued, “So, while you were whispering my name?”

Idaho replied, “Oh, that wasn’t your name I was whispering. I was guiding the droids of Murbessa XII to cycle down for the night.”

She stammered, “But an hour ago while we were getting excited, you seemed so engaged in it all. So interested in me and my needs. The little questions about how your kiss felt on my lips. The inquisitive nature about the rise in my pheromones.”

Duncan said, “Oh, that was Erasmus. Yeah, he’s in here with me. When I’m feeling a little ‘down and out’, or distracted, I let him take over. He said that our foreplay would be a great way for him to further conduct his ‘observational’ experiments on female humans.”

Murbella commented, “I did seem to smell a little flowmetal.”

McDune Parody Contest Entry: #8

Posted By Talos Aquinas on February 27, 2011


“Who needs a nebula when you have a star?”
—Ancient Proverb

God Emperor Leto Atreides II sat in his sand cabin correcting the urgent communiques he had drafted for House Conway. The work was draining but vital. He sat hunched forward; a heavy segmented mass surrounded his upper body, the first stages of his terrible metamorphosis into a great sand worm. Within his mind, his memories babbled. He had called upon his father, Paul Muad’dib Atreides – who had led the Fremen tribes to freedom and established a new empire just thirty years before, for advice on phrasing and workflow – with his help the task was already almost complete. Sometimes two heads were better than one.

Just as they were putting the finishing touches to the last edit Leto heard a ripple of disturbance pass through the multitude of his ancestral memories. He closed his eyes and entered what he and his father had always called The Innerworld.

Leto often enjoyed taking safaris into his Innerworld and the familiar heat of the African savannah greeted him once again as he blinked in the bright sunshine of his mind. P’Se-Ta, a distant ancestor from the Old Earth days was waiting there to greet him.

“Thank you for coming so quickly, Master Leto,” the tribesman called. He was missing several teeth and had a curved white bone stuck through his nose. Leto strode through the yellow grasses towards him.

“What is it old friend?” Leto asked, as he approached he saw tears running down the bone-nosed tribesman’s cheeks, “What is wrong?”

P’Se-Ta put his arms around Leto and sobbed, “My daughter is gone!”

A voice came from the shadows behind them, calm and collected, but commanding, Leto and P’Se-Ta turned to see the source of the voice. “Then we need to go find her,” said Leto’s father, Paul Muad’dib Atreides.

McDune Parody Contest Entry: #7

Posted By Talos Aquinas on February 27, 2011

Nouns of Dune

Dark. It was always dark. In space.
Leaving the atmosphere of Caladan behind, newly-Duke Leto Atreides watched cool blue sky fade to black. Already the great heighliner loomed in the void, carelessly rotating. The Duke’s pilot exchanged a few words with the carrier’s control, obtained permission to berth. Leto suppressed a sigh as the last traces of cerulean sky disappeared, blasted away by metal bulk.

A hand on his shoulder. He turned to find Dorothy smiling up at him with worried concern. For a moment he thought to embrace his precious seventh wife, remembered protocol and stayed his hand. The role of a duke called for some behaviours. Even his wife was not immune from them.

“Concerned, love?” Dorothy was sympathetic. Of course Leto was concerned. A diplomatic foray into ground untouched for centuries, but for spilt blood, and he walked into it near alone on the word of two men. His cousin, the Emperor, who assured him of his host’s good intentions, and his host himself: the Baron Harkonnen.

Vendetta of generations, abruptly broken by a missive from the Baron offering parley. It was almost too good to be true. Gurney Halleck certainly thought so, had said as much before Leto departed. Gurney’s fears rang in Leto’s mind, but he couldn’t turn back now. He had to try. To say he had tried.

McDune Parody Contest Entry: #6

Posted By Talos Aquinas on February 27, 2011


—Fremen expression meaning “Ride that beast! Ride it!”

Stilgar’s sweaty arousal was obvious through his tight stillsuit as he watched the messy sipce ejaculate of the monster worm flow into the sands behind him. The slimy trail stretched into the distance from the rear-end of the maker.

I must not look back he thought, intelligently. He loved the way the leviathan undulated between his legs as he straddled the gargantuan Shai’huzlud in that old Fremen way and thought about that, instead.

In the distance he saw his goal and it filled his mind with the vision of the elusive brown ring he sought.

Baron Halleck of Caladan casually strolled up to beside where Stilgar was standing, rudely interrupting his fantasies.

“We’re nearly there, Stil.” Gurney said.

“I don’t know about you, but I certainly was.” mumbled Stilgar.

“So what is it you wanted to show me?” Gurney pressed.

“Oh you’ll see, my friend.” Stilgar said, knowingly “You’ll see.”… “Stop that.” he added as Gurney tried to see ahead with electric binoculars.

They both laughed.

“Port-Ho!” Stilgar then shouted, instructing the well-trained leviathan to turn right.

McDune Parody Contest Entry: #4

Posted By Talos Aquinas on February 20, 2011

DUNE: Knocking on Normacle’s Door

It is 180 B.G. Humanity has nearly been destroyed by thinking machines. Iblis Ginjo is leader of The League, a last bastion of planets hoping to defeat the machines and take back the universe for themselves.

“I pray that this will be your final assignment,” said an exhausted Iblis Ginjo to his crack team of machine-hunters. “The League is planning a full assault against the Corrin-Omnius, but I fear that our military has no chance against those machines. Gods below!”

“Don’t worry, sir. You can count on The Butlerian Squad to git er done,” said Manion the Innocent. Manion’s smile beamed brightly as he recalled his “death” at the hand of the machines. They rebuilt him. Made him faster, stronger. His parents, Xavier Harkonnen and Serena Butler, beamed with joy at the youngest member of their team; they could not help but feel proud of their 11,700,000 Solari Man (a $1.95 exchange rate, of course).

All eyes turned toward Vorian Atreides and his lover Norma Cenva. Although Xavier was the tactician, only Vorian and Norma understood the workings of the cymeks The Butlerian Squad had defeated and reprogrammed for use against the thinking machines. Norma whispered delicately and thunderously to Vorian. His face beamed.

“I think I know what we need to do, Master Ginjo.” Vorian’s plans never failed.

McDune Parody Contest Entry: #3

Posted By Talos Aquinas on January 23, 2011

“Well…it’s a start”
—Reverend Mother Superior Origina Firstus Prima, on concluding her first controlled breeding for the sisterhood.

The brisk salty Caladan air blew through the hair of the Atredies Heir, young Paul Atredies. He had completed his daily studies at the Mentat school and was out looking for adventure before his return to Castle Caladan. He knew he’d have to be home before dark when it was too dangerous for a ducal heir to be walking the streets alone. As he walked down the steps, a hand reached out and shoved him. If it wasn’t for his Bene Gesseritt training and the cat-like reflexes being hammered into him by his father’s military trainers, Paul surely would have gone sprawling. He bent over to grab up his filmbooks.

“Freak!” The word stung Paul. He didn’t think he was a freak. He instantly knew who the voice belonged to. It was the same bully everytime. That shock of blond hair, that same knowing smirk. It was Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.

“I’m not a freak cousin! You’re just mad that I got into Mentat school and you’re stuck in Gladiator school.” The growing throng of kids ooo’d at this comeback. Feyd’s smile turned into a look of fury.

“Why you little… I’ll pound you into ultraslig meat!” The older boy advanced on Paul drawing a switch-crysknife. He was about to pounce when he was slammed to the ground by a flying streak of metal which pounced on him and pinned him to the ground.

“Good boy Trex!” Paul exclaimed.

Trex was his pet robodogshark. It was a state of the art guardian companion his dad had brought him back from Ix, modeled after one of the fiercer predators of Caladan’s tropical forests. The robot growled into Feyd’s face, baring its razor sharp saw-teeth. Feyd almost wet himself and if it wasn’t for the Honored Matre mantra of revenge, Feyd would have soiled himself: I must get my revenge. Revenge is the get-backer. I will have my revenge, I will let it flow through me and I’ll look at my target. Only I will be victorious! Boo-yah!

Paul called off the robot, and Feyd ran off. He hurled a curse at Paul and his robo dog too as the kids laughed at him.

McDune Parody Contest Entry: #2

Posted By Talos Aquinas on January 21, 2011

Pop, why is Baron Overbite sneaking around the complex? Is he magic?
—Estes Tergiet (Atreides)

“Vermillion hells, that Norma Cenva is one hot mamma!” Vorian did not care who heard this proclamation of love as he stared at the shapely form of the grotesquely-mutated woman sleeping in the giant glass tube.

“She shall be the true mother of my seed,” said Vorian to no one in particular, although it could very well have been his rebuilt robot companion Seurat or even one of the navigation machines the delectable Norma Cenva was hooked up to. It didn’t quite matter to Vorian, really, because he was so beholden with her beauty that he pissed a brick. Granted, it was a small, teeny-tiny brick, but it was a brick none-the-less.

As the massive stone passed through his urethra, the space pirate Vorian could not help but think of that meddling kid Abulurd Harkonnen. What a pain in the ass. Then, with sudden clarity after having purged the Ultimate Kidney Stone, Vorian shouted for all to hear: “She will be mine. You cannot have her, you most traitorous and cowardly fiend! Arrr.”

Suddenly, the monstrous, supernatural beauty woke up and stared lovingly into the eyes of the space pirate she had been hungry for. “Vorian,” she said with a mousy innocence that belied the fact that she had already bore a horde of Venports, “I’m ready to make thunderous love to you. Are you ready to sex me up?”

Vorian did not need to be asked twice.

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