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.

The wind was fierce on this day in the savannah, with Turu-grass rippling in the breeze. Small clouds rolled by overhead, providing no cover from the scorch of Shili’s sun. A young Togruta, both inexperienced and overconfident, was undergoing his ultimate test. Unfortunately, the boy had underestimated the viciousness and intelligence of the fully grown Akul hiding in the vast orange fields of the savannah. The hunter had been tracking the Akul for almost a day, determined to join the likes of Shaak Ti as one who had killed one of the bipedal monsters single-handedly. The sturdy archaic wooden spear he carried had flown from his hands and soared towards his mark with vicious velocity, but alas missed its mark. The orange-furred creature had ducked deftly below the oncoming weapon and lunged for its prey with its jaws open wide. The young warrior fell prey to the creature’s powerful bite, his blood and screams filling the warm, dry air of the grassland.

With little tree cover surrounding them, the screams of the dying youth whispered into the ears of both combatants off in the distance before being silenced by the apex of Shili’s predators. Varuk Kru wade through the tall grass towards the cover of a single ancient tree while gripping his blood-stained left arm. The burning hulk of a Lambda-class shuttle lay behind him. The craft the Twi’lek had just been piloting was brought to the ground by a shuttle bearing Arconan markings, which itself had landed close by.

The simplistic cloth wraps and fibre weave pants Kru wore were covered in a mix of dirt, starship fluids, and his own blood from the collision. The unique obsidian lightsaber he had dubbed Devorantem was the lone weapon hanging from his utility belt, as was his custom. Leaking gasses, atmospherics, and dry heat formed a haze that obstructed the former Inquisitor from determining if someone had left the enemy shuttle. Anger and pain clouded his ability to detect another life force. Kru stumbled against a dying tree and stopped. His mind focused on the blood seeping from his wound, the blood began to coagulate as he drew the Force through his body. Leaning against the thick trunk, the Sadowan began his observations of the surrounding area.

Not far from the tree, Kordath Bleu stalked the Twi’lek from the low-cover of the tall Turu-grass, watching silently and carefully. The Ryn detected the life force of a Force-sensitive, still strong, after the starship crash and wished to investigate further. The Gray Jedi formulated a plan to lure his foe away from cover and into the field, a slender hand extending towards the lone tree. Focusing intently he created the illusion of a rumble, almost like an earthquake beneath Kru to spur the red-skinned male away from the shadows.

The shaking and vibrating of the ground within his head was more than enough to bring Varuk out from under the three and towards the Turu-grass, the blood having stopped dribbling to the ground. There was still a searing pain in his left arm when the hot wind brushed it. As the Twi’lek reached the tall orange and white grass, the vibrational illusion vanished and Kordath struck.

Post one: —- Proofing starts here!

Part of the Ryn wanted to bypass the wounded Twi'lek altogether, to go and check the downed vessel in hopes he'd find the information he was after. Chances were good the Sadowan had it on him, though, so things were going to get messy. Downing the ship had been a risky move; dead men are harder to get intel out of.

Harder, not impossible, he thought grimly as the Techweaver stumbled away from his illusion and into the tall grass. When the man, grimacing and holding one of his arms as if in pain, got within a few feet, the Ryn made his move.

Crouched low as he was, the Turu-grass towered above the Arconan.While the Sadowan was having trouble sensing him, only a blind man would miss him coming. The grass shook when the Ryn pushed through, closing the remaining distance between them. He hooked his right arm around Varuk's left leg, pulling it with him as he continued moving forward. The Twi'lek was unprepared for the loss of balance, pitching forward towards the ground with a grunt, instinctively avoiding catching himself with his sore arm.

Kordath was upon him when he rolled over, the bearded man scrambling over and planting his knee in the taller man's chest. The Arconan lifted a hand and looked directly into the Sadowan's odd, mismatched eyes. Bleu could feel the man tensing under him, the muscles rippling under the red skin, and knew he only had one shot at this.

When he spoke his words were infused with the Force, "Tell me where that schutta is," he growled.

Varuk stared at him uncomprehendingly, his mind open and willing but finding no information to give. "What?"

"Pravus! Ya got intel, that's why ya was marked and why I had ta bring ya down. Now," again, the Ryn took a breath and channeled the Force into his speech, "ya want ta tell me where tha Grandmaster is."

"I don't know," came a monotone, blank eyed response.

Kordath stood abruptly and threw his hands into the air with a frustrated cry. He sensed no lie in the man; he wasn't even sure if he could lie when so compelled.

"Waste o' me karkin' time this was! Gonna have words wit dem intel boys when I get home," he grumbled, starting to head back into the Turu-grass towards his ship.

Behind him Varuk slowly stood, shaking his head which felt as if someone had stuffed it full of wool. "You're leaving!?" he managed after collecting himself.

"Aye, I'm leavin'," spoke Kord, turning and glaring at the man. "Times grownin' short and all dat, got no reason ta stay here and scrap with you, eh? Do ya a solid and send out a distress call, think I got a code fer you lot somewhere. Nothin' personal, yeah? Just politics."

This answer, realized the Ryn, didn't seem to suffice when Varuk pulled the angry looking saber hilt from his belt. The Twi'lek placed both hands on the grip, tightening his hold on it and causing a purple blade to spring into existence.

I do nae have time fer this, thought the Arcanist with a sigh, drawing his dagger from its sheath. A sense of dread came over him as the man began his advance, a feeling crawling up his spine and turning his blood cold. He felt sluggish, as if in one of his nightmares where he couldn't run fast enough.

Bleu shook his head and felt the Force at play and did what he could to push the sensations out of his mind. Not that it helped, the Sadowan had closed the distance and was already preparing to strike, his blade coming around in his double grip. Kord tried to block the attack with his alchemically treated dagger and was knocked backwards and into the Turu-grass with a yelp.

Strong enough, ain't he? Bollocks ta this.

Kordath didn't wait for the follow-up. Instead, he scrambled off the ground and into a crouch, before rustling off into the grass away from Varuk.

The Twi'lek watched as the grass swayed, marking the scurrying of the cowardly Arconan and set off in pursuit.