Respected

It is not usual for a dweller to be given pyre rights like a Tuchuk. Unheard of at least in my time .. which granted is not that long. I did it myself. I sent his spirit to the Sky where it belonged. The Fathers will welcome him and grasp him as one of their own. This I know.

This one was different.

I did not know him for long. Though in a way I probably know more about him than anyone in his life. My methods are methodical. Precise. Perfection spelled out with the edge of a razor's edge. Death is not easy .. nor quick. A lot of time for ... good conversation.

It was not personal. I had nothing against him. He had not wronged me or mine. There had been a skirmish. He had killed two Tuchuk before he was taken. Killed them as warriors. It was not personal. His courage and skill brought him to my hands. I am the Ubar. I am Black Mask. It was an honor.

An honor to die at my hand.

And he died well. There was no pleading for his life. There were no attempts to bargain. He knew he would die and he knew he would die with great pain. But he still showed courage and honor.

He sang. He sang until the very end. Never once did he answer my questions no matter what I did to him. I do not even know his name. He would not give it to me. I respect that. I think he would have danced ... if he had been able.

I have never tortured a more brave or courageous warrior. He was very strong and took a long time to die. Every bit of flesh I revealed to the night's moons taught me more and more respect. At the end I would say he knew me well also. At the end his voice began to fail him. At the end I took off my mask and I let him see my face. At the end we shared a bit of water. At the end I grasped his hand and he grasped mine and he died as I finished his song in my own voice .. lifting it to the Sky.

It was an honor. But it was all mine.