When you are traversing the wild and untouched landscapes of the savannah, just remind yourself that you are never the apex predator. The vast and desolate area of sand, rocks, dead and ancient trees are all the same blood-orange color for a simple reason: to hide your worst nightmare from your sight, the Akul. A large, quadrupedal and orange furred mammal, the Akul are the top predators that hunt all sorts of bovine, dog, hooved and giant mammals. Using their extraordinary sense of smell, they can trace your scent from days long past and track you down without mercy.

Throughout the Savannah, tall and wispy Turu-grass stretches out into long ranging fields. Watering holes are sparse and spread thin, and the terrain offers little safety from the blazing sun that hangs overhead. When the sun retreats and gives way to moonlight, the Savannah becomes almost chill, but the night is dark and full of wild creatures. In the Savannah, it’s hunt or be hunted.

Bentre hummed to himself as he traced along the edge of the white-and-red grasses. All I wanted was a little bit of time away. The Corellian shook his head, still deep in thought as he watched his quarry. He stalked through the vegetation slowly, planting each foot before the other with careful purpose.

Drawing a slow breath, he drew closer. A little bit of rest, a bit of relaxation, or just some time away from the rest of the Clan. I would have expected that when Pravus vanished that maybe these rank and file soldiers might have been shook up a bit. Yet, here this little soldier stalks about like nothing has changed. A few more feet and he might be able to plant a blade into the soldier’s back.

The trooper’s armor called to mind nightmares from the Sith’s childhood. He had remembered hearing talk of stormtroopers clad in armor, black as night, who had served against the Rebellion years before. His father had spoken about both shadow troopers and stormtroopers in the same low voice. The stories had given birth to many a restless nights for the young Bentre. A similar fear gripped the now-grown Battlelord’s heart as he watched the soldier turn toward the Sith’s location. Pure instinct prompted Bentre to throw himself to the ground. He winced as he heard the thud of his own weight on impact.

“Come on out.” The voice from the helmet echoed out with a distorted buzz as the dark-armored trooper lifted a slughthrower. “I already caught sight of you. I really don’t want to have to track you down so that I can shoot you.” Something in the man’s voice didn’t serve to assure the Shadow. From this angle he couldn’t identify his prey’s origin, whether of a Clan like Arcona or slime like Scholae Palatine.

It couldn’t be helped. One breath, then cloak yourself. Two breaths to wait and another two breaths before you spring into action. Stahoes ran mentally through his plan of attack.

All plans scattered to the wind with the familiar crack of a projectile weapon. The Sadowan’s heart was already beating wildly as the sound of a slugthrower cracked out. The sound was like a switch in his head, turning him from stalking to the kill. Scrambling to his feet, Bentre let out a bellow as he pushed his way through the grasses. Two shots went just over the Battlelord’s head as he closed the distance between the two.

Keiji threw aside his weapon with a grunt as the Corellian drew closer, drawing the katana from his side in a smooth motion. Stepping sideways, the Privateer turned the weapon about in the air, striking out for the back of Bentre’s leg. Skin split, and blood filled the shallow wound, but he could not feel the blood as it started to trickle down his leg. His entire limb was starting to go numb, causing the man to stumble as the sensation spread. Limping slightly, the human tried to square himself, trying to call to mind the basic forms of Echani to help him focus.

“If I were trying to kill you, I wouldn’t have shot over your head.” The Odanite growled as Bentre tried to put some distance between the two.

Rage twisted the Sadowan’s features and caused his hands to shake as he reached down to his side to grasp the handle of his own blade. The human balanced uneasily with more weight on one foot as he gripped the weapon in both hands. “Don’t bother to give excuse for poor marksmanship, soldier.” Bentre sneered over his own weapon, held upward in challenge. “Let’s see how well you can handle yourself in close combat.

Keiji almost sighed in disappointment as the Human rushed him. His form was poor, his grip almost inappropriately holding the sword when compared to the Togruta’s form. Keiji held his blade up straight, his feet one behind the other, shoulder width apart, weight equally distributed. He watched the battlelord rush him, attempting a chest level horizontal slash. The Privateer now placed his weight forward, bashed the opposing blade to the side, and kicked Bentre in the center of his chest.

The man stumbled back a few steps and looked back at the black armored figure. His form reverted back to how it was before, and hadn’t moved a step. Bentre looked at the sword he held. Clearly his skill with a sword wasn’t as good as the soldier before him. Time to use the other blades then, Bentre thought as he took one of the two cylinders off his belt.

“Impressed, or do I need to show more?” Keiji asked irritatedly. His skills had been questioned by another who had nothing but poor form. The Togruta suddenly heard the familiar hiss of lightsaber activating. The smell of burnt grass filled Keiji’s nose as the blade cut through the tall crimson-white grass. The man before him said nothing.

Bentre took his two handed grip on his blade. The blue blade before him a comforting sight in this mess. His “hunt” had not gone as planned and was now forced into this confrontation. He shuffled his foot forward, and watch the man before him lean back on his right leg. Bentre rushed forth, coming down with a two handed swing. Keiji sidestepped and made his counter swing for the back of the thigh. The Human was able to pull away his leg fast enough only to receive a minor scratch.

Damn, not enough for the poison to really get it. Let’s try that, Keiji started to think until he had to duck beneath the blue blade that was flung at him. The grass behind him received a trimming as the plasma blade went right over his head. Keiji stood back up blade at the ready. Keiji was going to take another slash at Bentre, but soon felt something enter his sphere of awareness. The hurled lightsaber was making its way back. The Ordanite whipped around and in mid-air, sliced the handle in half.

“Oh you didn’t just do that did you? That one was my favorite,” Bentre growled with frustration as his second blade erupted to life with a similar blue hue to it. He took on the same grip as before, almost tighter this time. The soldier before him turned back around taking this time a slightly different stance. The blade seemed ready this time to rush forward and stab that which came near. Bentre gave a huff of frustration as he readied himself for this final bit of combat. It’s do or die time, and I’m not the one going down today, was the last thought that passed through the Battlelord’s head before he moved to attack.