| “ | I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little death which brings total obliteration. I will face my fear, and let is pass over and through me. And when it has past, I will turn my inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone, there will be nothing. Only I will remain.
— Paul Atreides
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Born to the Bene Gesserit Lady Jessica and Duke Leto Atreides, Paul Atreides was himself raised through most of his younger life as a noble. He would be born on the planet Caladan, were he would be trained in the arts of nobles. By the time he turned 15, he would be met by the reverend mother of the Bene Gesserit, who would subject him to the Gom Jabbar test, learning he had an unnatural reaction to it, with her believing Paul to potentially being the Kwisatz Haderach.
Not long after, he and his family would go to the planet Arrakis. Here Paul would first come into contact with the Spice Melange. Paul would here begin to have deadly accurate premonitions of the future, and then from there think through how he would get to that point. But as he only started to figure out these visions, his families palace would be attacked by the former lords of Arrakis, the Harkonnens. Nearly his who family would be butchered, with him and his mother escaping into the desert.
Months years, a prophet among the native Fremen of Dune known as Muad'Dib would begin come to prominence. This prophet had accurate visions of the future and calculated how people could make it that way. This prophet was himself Paul Atreides, and he was progressively rallying the Fremen for a Jihad against the Harkonnens. He would eventually initiative this rebellion, leading the Fremen into battle upon the backs of the great sandworms. He would eventually make over the planet and hold the entire Imperium hostage by cutting off the supplies of spice to the Known Universe. Following a victory over the last Harkonnen, Feyd-Rautha, in single combat Paul would take the crown as Padishah Emperor of the Known Universe.
Battle vs. Turjan of Miir (by Lunathemoon123)[]
Turjan touched down on the large Dune, his feet sinking into the sands. He had been told of this planet by Pandelume in his last meeting with him. He originally was dismissive of the concept of other planets outside of Earth, he eventually was bitten by the concept of being an intrepid cosmonaut. And this world was truly an alien one. The weather was inclimate and hot, with the sky being a cloudless grey abyss. To his left was a vast sea of sand, the dunes like great waves as they baked in the sun. To his right as a toweringold mountain, it’s shale peppered sides sloping down to him.
“What a strange land” he thought to himself. He then removed his fine cap and brought the tail of his blue cloak over his head and neck to act as a sunscreen. He began to move forwards, keeping closer to the mountains. He took shallow and lightly tread steps in an attempt to reduce his own sinking into the deep sands. He continued his march, keeping a forward eye to the areas before him. Pandelume has told him that humans lived here, though they were strange in dress and appearance.
But as the young Wizard continued his forward march, he remained oblivious to the small man above him. Paul Muad’dib Usul, formally the noble Paul Atreides, sat perched above the magician, staring down like a mighty hawk. He watched the young noble below lope through the Dune’s, noticing that he wasn’t accustomed to walking on sand. “Who is this man?” he thought. He could tell from the man’s dress that he wasn’t a local, but he wasn’t dressed in the wearings of the Harkonnens either. “Was he Saudikar? Was he some strange mercenary?” he thought to himself.
“Should I meditate about this to see this man's truth? Should I go to Stilgar?”. “Or should I confront him now and spare the trouble?” he continued to himself. He ruminated on this, all the while shifting from stone to stone with the tact and silence of a desert mouse. He crawled across the stones, keeping his eyes on the Wizard below. He continued to ponder all the while, not sure how to deal with the man. But this indecisiveness left him soon enough. He slowly began to crawl on all 4 down the rock slope, slope lay and steadily spidering his way down the shale and boulders.
Turjan, still unaware of his foe's approach, continued onwards. He soon took out a canteen of posca and began to drink, the sweet and sour fluid quenching his thirst. But as he moved, he soon heard a slightly disconcerting sound. Behind him, maybe 15 yards away, he heard a displacement of shale and gravel, provoking him to turn around and see what caused it. Behind him was a man, himself a strange one indeed. He was dressed in simple robes fitting for the hot wear, but below that a pale teal full body jumpsuit. His eyes were unlike any among humans, being nearly a solid blue color, with equally as dark blue Sclera. He wore two bone knives on a simple cordage belt.
The man stopped in his tracks, pausing for only a second. The two men locked eyes for just a moment, before the two quickly sprung into action. Paul, small and cunning like a fox, grabbed and his daggers and was already farting forwards like a bullet. Turjan reacted quickly to his incoming foe. He presented his left hand and shouted out a jumble or arcanic ncantations. And from his hand, a number of flaming spears or glowing light erupted from his palm like a shotgun blast. The prismatic spray was aimed at Muad’dib, the blast made to be fatal. But as Paul hurtled forwards, he contorted his body mid stride and fell out of line, partially slipping out of reality. And as if magic, Paul was himself just on the edge of the shotgun spray.
Muad’dib’s cloak was skewered through, while a single spear had just grazed his shoulder. He immediately then took the second, bounding toward Turjan. Taking this in, Turjan actively drew up his sword and took too a defensive posture. Muad’dib was soon within melee range, and he began his flurry of blows. His short Crysknives flashed through the air towards Turjan. But as the weapons came go pierce, Turjan actively sidestepped the incoming, pivoting 90 degrees on his heel and delivered an attacked side swing towards Paul’s head. But the sword missed. But this attack was a failure as Muad’dib, quick like a panther, contorted in mid air and folded like a letter, letting the sword swing past his head.
Landing on his feet and turning full back around, Muad’dib primed himself for another pass. Turjan, facing his foe as well, fell into fool guard. Paul then began his pounce, bouncing off the ground towards Turjan. His first slice was thrown towards the neck, but still so easily blocked by Turjan. But the offhand knife passed Turjan guard. Only just noticing this, Turjan was able to physically twist at his middle. The dagger strikes missed anything vital, the blade just barely leaving a narrow slice along his hip. Taking advantage of the opening, Muad’dib slashed at Turjan’s neck with his main blade, but Turjan effectively slipped it, bounding back of his heels.
“This man was too fast, even for me,” Turjan thought to himself. “I gotta slow him down.” Turjan then brought up his left hand and began to speak more arcane words. Muad’dib, taking advantage of this lapse in defense, lunged forwards. But as he hurtled forwards, Paul felt himself slow in his movement, cutting his pounce short as he dropped in momentum. He looked up only to see Turjan, standing over him with his blade in hand primed for a killing blow. He brought up his Knife in a defensive grip, only just catching the strike. He brought up his other blade and slashed up towards Turjan’s neck, though the Wizard easily dodged the strike.
Turjan kicked towards, the blow striking Muad’dib square in the check. A sharp crack resonated, as the hardened soles of Turjans boots broke one of Paul’s ribs. Muad’dib, panicking, pushed all of his strength into his legs and hurled himself back. He moved and distanced and landed on his back, pulled the momentum of the fall into a roll and landed on his feet in a crouch. Turjan began to run forwards, blade ready for a thrust. “This man has crippled my speed,” Paul thought to himself. “But his attacks are clunky”. Paul strange up, running towards Turjan head on. He then threw his off hand dagger at Turjan, causing the young Wizard to bank to the left to dodge it.
He but as Turjan dodged left, Paul quickly weirded towards him. Paul held his blade in a revered grip and swiped down, leaving a deep bleeding gash in Turjan’s arm. Then with that, the slowed sensation dropped, and Paul regained his full agility. Seeing his spell lost, Turjan began running back away from Paul. Paul quickly darted back, grabbing his lost dagger and beginning to pursue. As the two moved, Paul could hear Turjan speak more Arcane words as he disappeared over the large dune. But as Paul darted only seconds behind him and came up over the ridge, he couldn’t see the Wizard.
He slowed his movements to a halt, slowing down his maneuvers in favor of improving his perception. He stood still, purging the main from his mind and taking in the world around him through his touch, smell and hearing. He couldn’t hear the Wizard's breath, and he could perceive it by smell. But as he stood, he heard the slightest crunch of a boot on sand only a few feet behind him, causing Paul to lunge forwards. An invisible blade swung through the air, the point leaving a long but shallow slash which started only a few centimeters left of his spine and cutting to his left shoulder. Paul landed on his feet, skidding down the slope of the dune. Turjan was still invisible and couldn’t be perceived. But Paul could still smell his own blood.
He could smell a hint of blood only a few 20 feet in front of him, only slightly to his right. He reeled back and threw his off hand knife. Turjan fell on his back, now rematerialized into visible sight. He quickly scrambled up to his feet and began running up towards the mountain. Muad'dib followed suit, keeping up behind him. As Turjan Began to climb the rocks, He felt Muad’dib grab the heels of his cloak. Paul pulled down in an attempt to dislodge Turjan from the rocks. But as he tugged, he felt the cloak pull off from Turjan’s neck. Turjan continued to scale the rocks, with Muad’dib just behind him. But as Paul began to climb to stones above him, he felt as a booted heel kicked him hard in the face.
Paul fell backwards, stunned by the strike and fall, sporting a broken nose. Turjan began to scale higher into the rocks, moving as fast as he physically would. He soon got to a plateaued stone, sitting up straight. He first removed the dagger from his shoulder, tearing off a piece of his shirt sleeve and stuffing it partially and painfully into the open wound. He then got out his journal, flipping through the pages and coming to the page containing the excellent prismatic spray. He read through the Arcane words, implanting the spell back into his mind. He soon after noticed the sound of Muad'dib's continued movement below him.
Now back on his feet, Paul began to climb up the slope again, moving quickly. He could hear Turjan moving around above him on a large flat stone. He had his remaining knife clenched in his right hand, ready to cut Turjan down. He then with a single bound jump up onto the stone, seeing his wounded foe roughly 20 feet away against the opposing wall of stone. Paul then began darting forwards, ready to finish his foe. Turjan then moved forwards, throwing Paul's old Dagger at him, causing Muad’dib to weird to his left. But as he did so, Turjan put forward his left and said the words to the excellent prismatic spray. The buck shot of glowing points flew forwards towards where Muad’dib was weirding towards.
As Paul landed, he saw the bolts of light. He then instinctually ponced to the left. But his reaction was too slow. While he dodged most of the bolts, 3 of them pierced his body, one in the shoulder, one on the thigh and one in the hip. He screamed in pain and fell to the ground, dropping his knife to the ground as he grabbed at his wounds. Taking advantage of the moment, Turjan bolted forwards. But he had underestimated Muad’dib, the preacher quickly recovering and leaping forwards. He grabbed Turjan by the wrist as the young Wizard thrusted forwards, twisting hard. The maneuver worked, causing Turjan to drop his sword. Paul then pushed forwards into Turjan, knocking him off his feet and onto his back. The exhausted Wizard knew he was down, the heat and injuries having sapped his stamina. He needed to flee.
He then picked up his dagger, and began to lunge forward. But as he moved in, he heard Turjan speak one last set of Arcane words. As this happened, a wild rumbling cloud appears as if from nowhere, its pure power and rumbling tremors causing Paul to fall backwards. As Turjan lay wounded on his back, he cried of a command. “4 directions, and then 1. Take me to Castle Miir Alive!”. The cloud then enveloped him, it disappearing into the aether. Muad’dib looked up, only to see Turjan gone. The only thing left of Turjan was his discarded sword and cloak. Paul then laid back and breathed heavily. His wounds burned and his broken bones ached, but he was still alive.
Turjan reopened his eyes. He was laying on his back on his taris in Castle Miir. He was badly wounded, tears filling his eyes. He had survived the fight, but had been defeated. He limped into the building, exhausted and wounded.
Winner: Paul Atreides.
Expert's Opinion[]
While Turjan’s spells were themselves formidable, Paul’s greater native physical and mystical abilities were considered more than enough to counter all of Turjans spells. But what really broke it for Turjan was his lack of ability to fight in the desert heat, with heat exhaustion being the biggest factor leading to his defeat near the end. And while the call of the violent cloud did give him the option of escape with his life, that the best of could have hoped for in this fight. In the end, Muad’dib was simply more suited to the scenario of the battle, which in the end assured him the win.
To see the original battle, weapons, and votes, click here.
Battle vs. Luke Skywalker (Canon) (by Lunathemoon123)[]
TBW.
Expert's Opinion[]
TBD.
To see the original battle, weapons, and votes, click here.
Battle vs. The Mule (by Jon memeing)[]
The night was intense, dragging over a black clean sheet with planes zipping across; guns blazing as if in a contest on who could burn brighter than the biggest stars. The land below fared no better, covered in a red hot ocean of blood, meat, and screaming men, topped with a coleslaw of burning metal from shells, vehicles and explosions.
Paul Atreides watched the whole carnage from a hill overlooking the battlefield. He felt no fear as this planet's primitive projectile weapons failed against his shield. It wouldn't be long before the battle tipped to his favor. His nemesis may have thought himself safe in this cozy little hidden area of his. But no one was ever safe, especially against an abomination who could see the future as clear as a shimmering Corinthian mirror.
"Hey... Hey..." a voice whispered in his head.
"You think you can win this? Do you even know where I am? Are you sure I am even here?"
Paul shook away the voice, trapping it in a little mental box, which he imprisoned in the cold lake of his unconscious. However, the box could not be held so easily. It broke free and sent a screeching, demonic, noise that burned itself into Paul's mind and created a momentary anguish that made the emperor fall to his knees. Such a mental attack was temporary; for the untrained, such an attack would end in destruction.
"You do not fool me, clown," Paul proclaimed. "Nor do you even scare me."
"Really, now..."
"No. But you should be scared of me."
The Emperor took a small entourage of highly-trained special operatives strapped to the top with the best military gear -- carbines, c4s, grenades, kevlar and all. He marched them down through the crowd of poor dying bastards. The group then came across a large dark cave that seemed to tunnel its way into Hell. Paul feared no Hell, nor other infernos, and he led his men bravely into the abyss.
An ambush took out a few of his men. But their bullets only glanced at Paul's shield. The Emperor then dashed towards his enemies and cut one, two, and three men with swipes from his crysknife. His remaining men finished off the ones left.
Paul and his men continued their journey. And there they saw light and a wet cavern. In the middle of that cavern was his enemy, the clown and the fool himself -- a beast named The Mule.
"I wouldn't lie, little prince, but you exceed my expectation," The Mule said. "In fact, you damn well surprised me."
"Apologies," replied Paul. "But I do not feel the same."
The Mule laughed at this jest, before continuing, "Power like ours and we can rule more than just worlds. We can rule beyond them. We should work together..."
Paul gave a little grin and said, "If your powers were even that strong, you will know what I think of ruling, and those I rule with. I prefer not to share."
"So be it," The Mule said before raising his Visi-Sonar, a strange-looking musical instrument with buttons on them. He then played a tune that echoed across the walls. Paul's men got intrigued by the sound, before their head floated into the clouds, and they all aimed their guns at their commander. Quickly, Paul used his own instrument, the so-called Voice, to make them put their guns down. Seeing his attempt was for naught, The Mule played a different, more menacing tune, that turned the soldiers's head into blenders, liquifying their brains.
Paul then ran towards The Mule, his knife on his side ready to slice the bastard's neck. But as if reading his own moves, The Mule danced to the left, dodging Paul's attack, before smacking the Emperor with his Visi-Sonar. However, Paul seemed to have anticipated this; he braced the attack and countered with a thrust, burying his knife unto The Mule's chest. But the figure disappeared; Paul was tricked with an illusion. Suddenly, a mad tune was played, far more powerful than what he had heard before. This one crippled him, pounded his head, brought down a supernova of suffering into his soul. Paul gritted his teeth and cried, while The Mule laughed and jeered.
"The little prince cannot handle a bit of fine art. Well then, let's turn it up a notch!"
Paul concentrated. He poured all his pain and bottled it up. He let it flow and leak and be redirected, passing through him. Finally, he found his quarry from all the noise. His knife touched flesh, and ripped it away like tearing thin cellophane. The Mule looked surprised; he got tagged hard and he fell to the ground deader than the hopes and dreams of a thousand dead civilizations. Paul then got up and went out, ready to finally clean this utter mess.
Expert's Opinion[]
Experts believed that Paul won due to his better training, power set, and the fact that he was no stranger to dirty political fighting. The Mule was a tough opponent but his skill set and training fell short to Paul's.