The wild planet of Kashyyyk is known to be home to the gentle, but short-tempered race of Wookiees. Wild and untamed, the lush, wroshyr tree-filled forests form a multi-layered deathtrap. The local wildlife presenting more dangers as one descends towards the forest floor. However, as one ascends the vertical environment, the danger of falling increases until one comes in contact with the Wookiee settlements. Fauna and flora flourish in delight, growing within dirt pockets in the crevices of the trees. Some of these plants are carnivorous, becoming larger and deadlier closer to the forest floor. Others have some form of consciousness, able to communicate with the Wookiees to give some understanding of their use.

Above the Wookie settlements rests the wild rainforest canopies. Within the crevices of the trees, empty fruit and rotting shells from seeds show the spring season has ended. A soft wind whistles between the thick vines and shrubs that stick to the trunks of the ancient and sleeping giants. Despite the never-ending lack of footholds aside from the branches of wroshyr trees, a series of abandoned and rotting platforms are suspended a hundred meters above the surface, once home to its own Wookiee settlement. Overgrown and decayed, it has since nourished countless plants and trees with their outstretched branches sheltering the dense and soft floor from the extreme sun rays and torrential rain. Upon closer inspection unusual signals become noteable. Moss carpets particular areas on the platforms and nowhere else, and tree-dwelling animals and birds never seem to land on the surface.

Tread carefully, or fall whim to the creatures that inhabit this terrain.

Kashyyyk always fascinated the slender Chiss. The natural order abounded under the massive treetop canopies, a genuinely picturesque demonstration of evolution. Some of the greatest predators to be encountered were plants that could swallow a man whole, digesting their still living captives and breaking them down for nutrients. It was these very qualities that had brought him here, research and a fair amount of arm-twisting leading him to a cache of research documents and material that a former....colleague wasn't the right word. Nor was he a competitor, the man hadn't been anywhere near his level of ability or intellect, but the fool had somehow stumbled upon several tidbits of information that could be useful to Rhylance's research.

His information, assuming it was genuine, put the hidden documents and materials inside an old and abandoned Wookiee village. He'd extracted the location from one of the researcher's assistants while having them on his table, so he felt it was reliable. A hut, dilapidated but stable and with several markings above its door that would mean nothing to most people held his prize. A simple matter of surviving the upper levels of the forest, finding the cache, and returning to his ship would advance his research immensely.

The Providence had landed in the treetops not far from the village, causing an alarming amount of creaking had been heard from the old platform. It added an unneeded sense of urgency to his task; explaining himself to a group of Wookiees should his shuttle plummet to the depths was a situation he'd rather avoid. So it was with some surprise, and alarm, that the Consul found another living being among the old, abandoned treetop village. He crouched in the shadows of the dense foliage and decided to investigate.

Another native of Csilla? How strange, in a place such as this.

He studied from afar, the hulking figure who stood with arms crossed before the entrance of an abode. Rhylance's sharp vision didn't miss the power hammer and ostentatious shield that leaned against the hollowed out tree trunk, more signs of the immense strength this stranger possessed.

Not another man of science; perhaps muscle brought by another? he postulated to himself. The Taldryanite wondered, briefly, if he shouldn't have gone a similar route. He discarded the idea; muscle-bound idiots would have just gotten in his way and given away his position. Squinting from his hiding place, Rhylance sighed to himself.

Of course, that's the hut. Very well, perhaps he can be persuaded to move. He looks brutish, but civilized by his attire.

"Do you intend to skulk behind the greenery all day, my good man? You move too much to be a beast and no Wookiee I've met here has eyes like my own!"

Rhylance froze behind the hanging leaves he'd been crouching behind, before letting out a sigh and standing to his full height. Stepping out into the light and approaching the other Chiss, he started to get a full measure of the man's size. From afar he'd looked muscular, yes, but as he approached he realized the part perspective had played in that assessment. He'd looked not out of place before the old Wookiee hut, and only now did it occur to the Consul what that meant.

As large as one of them, easily, if not taller. What a specimen you'd make for my lab. Though we'd have to push two of the operating tables together.

"Ah! Always good to see another of our kind out in the galaxy. It usually seems to be Humans or Zeltrons and scantily clad Twi'leks running around. Well met, friend," the large man bowed at the waist, his glowing eyes never leaving Rhylance's. "I am Stres'trong'armis, who do I have the pleasure of meeting this day?"

"Garmis," the lithe man rolled the family name across his tongue as if in thought. He'd heard this name, in reports that graced his desk from time to time. Arconan minion, of their little Ryn if I'm not mistaken. What could he possibly be doing here?

"Indeed! I am the son of noble House Garmis, collecting stories and adventure here in the barbaric lands outside the Ascendancy! Now," the massive Chiss loomed as he rolled his shoulders, loosening up, "who are you, exactly?"

"Someone who has neither time nor patience for your buffoonery, good sir, I've come to retrieve materials relevant to my research, I have a firm belief that they are in the hut you're blocking."

The bigger man arched an eyebrow, his mouth opening to speak before sounds from behind cut him off. A shrill, loud pitched whistle, followed by a girlish giggle and some curious and unmistakable grunting sounds, all of which seemed to make this Garmis man's ears turn a shade darker from embarrassment.

"What, no, who is back there?" Rhylance couldn't help but ask, morbid curiosity getting the better of him.

Strong cleared his throat, "My, hrm, my master and his superior are conducting, ah, negotiations, with some local authorities. I fear I must bar your way until they are finished. Though I must tell you, from my experiences wrestling several of their kind since visiting this world, Wookiees have a great amount of stamina. You will be waiting quite a while."

The medic felt the beginning of a twitch in the muscles near his left eye. This...this thug dared to halt his progress so that his employers could take part in some twisted debauchery! The research he was trying to claim was not only valuable but sensitive, he wasn't sure what effectswhat was going on inside the hut would have on the materials. He lacked data; what if there was a Zeltron in there, emitting pheromones and tainting it? What if hair, from the apparent Wookiee, that he could hear or either of the other two mixed into the samples?

No. No this would simply not do, he decided, his right hand reaching for the medical supplies on his belt as he stepped towards Garmis.

"I need inside that hut, good man, so I suggest you remove yourself from my path. There are items of importance to my research within, and I will not be leaving without them. Whatever your employer and his floozy — "

Strong reached out with an open palm and moved the doctor back, Rhylance's boots skidding across the old wooden platform. The bigger Chiss didn't shove him, just inexorably applied pressure.

"Please do not speak of her Ladyship in such a manner." Strong rumbled, his voice taking on a dangerous edge.

The Taldryanite watched with interest as blood began to soak through the shirtsleeve of the arm that had pushed him. He studied Strong's expression as the hulking Chiss shook his head and blinked, a look of confusion crossing his broad, chiseled features. A cloud of anger was starting to settle in the big man's eyes, as he turned his gaze on Rhylance.

"Most dishonorable, good sir," he growled and balled up both hands, either one nearly the size of the Consul's head.

*Hrm, that was enough of a dose to put down a Wookiee, but to be fair, they are far lither than this...thing. Perhaps his bulk, ah, and training to resist poisons? Oh my is he — *

The medic's train of thought was derailed as a scarred set of knuckles nearly took his head off. He stumbled back and saw the doorman waver after the missed strike, before standing upright once more.

The inhibitor is having an effect, just not as much as I'd care for. Very well. Time to put this muscle-bound idiot in his place, with science, he thought, drawing a fresh scalpel.

Rhylance held the knife delicately in his grasp. He felt a bead of sweat run down the side of his face from the heat of the dense forest air. Strong cracked his knuckles in preparation, before slowly removing his shirt. His movements still looked slightly labored from the poison running through his bulging veins.

The Taldryan Consul’s eyes widened at the sight before him. Pectorals, biceps, muscles of all kinds on display glistened with sweat. Rhylance had never seen such physical perfection. The hulking buffoon in front of him had piqued his curiosity and already his mind was working overtime to figure out the most effective methods of taking such a specimen with him alive.

This might just be a lucky day for me. I came for a cache that may be of value to me and I can leave with this half-wit in my possession as well…

“Good Sir, would you mind putting your surgical equipment away? In a fair fight a man needs only his fists to show his true strength!” As if to add evidence to his claim Stres'trong’armis clasped his hands together and brought his arms to his side, flexing the oversized musculature. His red eyes seemed to gleam in the sunlight that bled perfectly through the treetops

Rhylance went dead silent as he stared blankly at the oversized Chiss in front of him. Was this man serious? He truly believed Rhylance would fight him fist-to-fist given their clear and apparently sizable differences. And the pose... the ridiculously ostentatious bolstering of his own physical prowess. The Consul was not amused in the slightest.

...on second thought, perhaps I should just kill him and be done with it.

“Are we really going to resort to such uncivilized displays of aggression?” Rhylance asked, his annoyance clearly represented in his tone.

“As much as I’d prefer to not cause harm to someone so much smaller than myself, you insulted a lady, and I can not stand for that type of disreputable behavior!” Strong spoke loudly and with courage of conviction, much to the chagrin of the opposite Chiss.

“Well if you want to fight like a primitive primate, be my guest. I prefer to use more…evolved tools in my confrontations.”

“It seems you need to be educated on more than just your manners then. I’m happy to be your teacher!” Strong raised his fist, ready to strike, and began to move towards the Consul as he spoke, before being cut off by a woman's voice in the hut.

“Hey bantha brain, shut yer trap! I don’t know what’s going on out there, but if you mess up these “negotiations” I’ll make sure the Garmis name ends with you!”

Strong froze in fear at his Consul’s threat. Rhylance found himself amused by the proposed punishment, and intrigued by the one who spoke it. He had a hard time respecting her, not only for her semi - public lecherous activities but also for possibly contaminating the highly important research he had come to collect.

“Well, Garmis, I guess you should listen to that harlot’s orders. A “real man” such as yourself should respect your superi…”

As Rhylance taunted the unnerved Chiss his words seemed to strike a chord. Strong glared at the Consul and dashed forward to silence the rapscallion. The Taldryanite barely moved in time to escape a punch to the jaw that surely would have shattered it. Strong was no longer playing around. Unfortunately the poison was still taking it's toll on him, making the smaller Chiss difficult to catch.

“Don’t,” Strong threw a right hook that was a little too wide to land, “disrespect,” a left hook quickly followed to the same result, “a woman,” Strong managed to catch Rylance's jacket with the next swing of his massive left fist, “in such,” grabbing ahold of the black fabric, he pulled the much smaller enemy towards him, “a manner!”

Rhylance wached in almost slow motion as Stres'trong’armis’s right fist barreled into his chest. The Chiss was thrown backwards by the force of Strong’s punch, rolling across the wooden platform. His scalpel fell from his grip and into the floor beneath him, the blade piercing the hard exterior. He came to a stop at the platform's edge, trying hard to catch his breath. The Consul was astounded by the sheer strength of the Arconan’s punch. He was sure that a rib or two was cracked.

Finally catching his wind, Rylance got on his hands and knees and coughed. He noticed red on the wood, so he touched his lips. He could taste iron in his mouth and his fingertips were now stained with blood.

“Was one punch all you could weather? I would have thought you stronger than that. I apologize if I used excessive force, but you needed to be taught an important lesson,” the larger Chiss made his way over to the downed medic. Hints of regret could be seen on his face. “Here I have a medical pack that could help you. I may not have much training in the medicinal arts, but I have learned some basic skills that could help you out.”

Rhylance pushed himself up and rested on his knees as he watched Strong dig through his pockets for the medical kit. The Consul reached into his jacket and found a small metal container. He opened it up to reveal a vial filled with silver-green colored liquid.

I haven’t had the chance to test you out yet, but now is as good of time as any.

“I’ve found it!” Strong announced as he pulled out the medical pack, his small curled tuft of hair swaying as his head turned. “Time to make you good as new!”

Rhylance grabbed the vial and as the other Chiss knelt down to help him, he threw the glass vial between Strong’s legs and rolled away. The glass shattered against the solid ground, and the liquid inside ignited on contact with the air, shooting between the Chiss’s muscular thighs, burning the Arconan’s pants. The flames licked his chest leaving a slight burn. As the liquid ignited a gaseous compound was released into the air surrounding Strong. Gasping in pain from his burn, he inhaled the gas as Rhylace watched, grinning with excitement.

“Everyone is afraid of something. What about you, Strong? What is it you fear? Why don’t we find out together. “

“What sorcery is this? I tried to help you!” Strong shouted, bewildered by the Consul’s reprehensible acts.

“Well, that just makes you an idiot,” Rhylance gasped in pain, his ribs bruising from his earlier trauma. He knelt down next to his wheezing, fellow Chiss. “I know of your “family” Garmis. A dull, intellectually challenged lot of self important, entitled blue bloods. Csilla was never so kind to me. My family came from low class swine. My name, so you know who ended the Garmis line, is Docrh’ylanc’ehause. It is my pleasure to examine and kill you today.”

The chemicals infusing the gas coursed through Strong's bloodstream, burning as they tore through his body. His vision kaleidoscoped through shades of orange and red, and his ears filled with the thrum of his speeding heartbeat. One mighty hand clutched at his burning throat; the other slammed into the old wooden platform as if out of frustration.

The world narrowed to a pinprick, a red-tinged tunnel as his body sagged forward. The hand at his throat went to the ground as well, an attempt to keep from slamming his face into it. He panted, his vision slowly widening and heart slowing, the sounds of the forest returning. The past few minutes were a haze, only a word resounding in his mind.

Fear

He shook his head and began to push himself up, his breath rasping through his burnt throat. His chest hurt, and he couldn't recall why, but his hands distracted him before he got further than kneeling. He lifted them slowly, crimson eyes widening in confusion. They felt dry to his senses, but they dripped with blood to his vision. As if they were soaked, and the wooden platform below seemed to drink in that which fell.

He looked around the platform, confusion and just an edge of panic crossing his visage. Where had his mercenary contract landed him this time? His brow furrowed, mind trying to come to terms with the peaceful surroundings and his bloody hands.

No, it cannot be, that was years ago, was it not? I left home to gain experience in battle, to make my family proud and gain honor so I could someday become the head of my house. I was a fool, a boy, I should have paid more attention.

The jumble of thoughts flitted through the haze that permeated his mind. A contract, signing on with a band that had presented itself as professional, working for the planetary administrators somewhere on the Outer Rim. Memories surfaced, a past he'd pushed so far down that he'd hoped to never think of again. The outfit had been tasked with eliminating a group of insurgents or rebels, that part was hazy. The mercenary captain had warned them of enemies outfitted with suicide vests and gave them what he claimed were 'reflex enhancement' adrenals.

Did I fall for such a ruse once more? thought the big man, ears perking at the sounds coming from a nearby hut. To his senses, it was cries of pain, the dying wails, and moans of those caught in the crossfire of battle. No, no I could not have done this. Not again!

To the outside observer, in this case, Rhylance, it was a one-man show. The reaction to the fear gas was proving to be fascinating, though he couldn't know what caused the haunted look in his impromptu test subject's eyes. He paced in a circle around the mercenary, observing the man for any sudden movements. His entire torso ached from the last punch he'd taken, he had no desire to have another hands-on demonstration of Strong's power.

Rhylance paused in front of the kneeling man, looking down at him. With a single finger, he made a show of adjusting the position of his glasses, hiding the smile spread across his face.

"So, how are we feeling?"

Strong's gaze snapped up towards the man before him. A Chiss, tall, though even on his knees they were similar in height. A toned build, glasses and the streaks of blue and silver through his hair for a moment thought his very own father was observing his shame. That was impossible; father was back in the Ascendancy.

"How many?" Strong rasped out, his throat still inflamed.

"Pardon?" replied the doctor, before his eyes widened in alarm when the big man jumped to his feet.

The Consul had the briefest of moments to try and step back, but hesitated, well aware of where the edge of the platform was. Strong grasped him by the shoulders, bringing his flushed face level with his own. Rhylance stared into wild eyes, wide in panic and fear.

Fascinating indeed. An excellent trial subject, strong enough to endure the drug’s full effects. No matter what resistance he's built up to the more conventional, this innovative cocktail seems to be doing the job. I must log all of this when I return to the ship.

"HOW MANY!? What did they give me!?" the big man bellowed before his voice dropped to a rumble of a whisper. "How many did I slay?"

Ah. A man so concerned with honor and fairness, tests of strength. Of course, he'd fear to besmirch his good name by laying low the weak. What a fantastic fool I've found. Rhylance did his best to keep a straight face as he spoke, "Why, what do you mean? Everyone, of course."

"No," quietly spoke Strong, dark eyebrows knitting in confusion, brow furrowing. "NO!"

"Look around, man," stated the Consul, his voice becoming hard. When the mercenary didn't react he slapped the shell-shocked man. He winced as he withdrew his hand. Even his face is hard as a rock.

"Look around! Listen!" he gestured towards the hut. Sounds drifted from it, ones that he wished he could block out but hoped would be useful in this instance. "That is the sound of the dying; can't you hear the women wailing?"

"No," the son of Garmis shook his head and moved his hands to grip the front of the medic's tunic. "I would never do such a thing, no."

Rhylance grasped Strong's forearms, leaning in towards the larger man.

"Yes! You did! All of them are dead! Not just the women, but the children too! You slaughtered them, Garmis, you have brought shame to your family name and murdered dozens of innocents!"

When the Consul felt his feet leave the platform, he wondered, for but a moment, if he'd pushed too hard. The mercenary tossed him away with a cry of anguish, and Rhylance just hoped he’d land on the platform. Careening over the side would be an undignified way to die. He hit the wooden surface and rolled several times before coming to a stop. Nothing new felt broken this time, though his breath was short. If the ribs weren’t fractured before, they were now. At least it didn’t feel as if either lung had suffered a puncture. Everything else ached as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. Across the platform, he could see Strong staring up at the sky.

Shame. Murder. Dishonor. What have I done? Father, I am sorry. May my sister bring great honor to our name, and lead well, for I am unworthy. Strong swallowed back a lump in his throat and looked down at the planks below him. It was in moments like this that he wished he'd carried a blade, but his crime was great. A knife would have made things too easy, he decided.

With a roar of anguish, the mercenary fell to his knees and spread his arms wide, slamming his head into the platform. A sickening crunch could be heard, echoing through the forest as the man's nose broke. Blood dripped from his face as he lifted himself back to a kneeling position, only to lurch forward once more. Again, his face impacted on the old wood.

Rhylance watched in morbid fascination, toying with a scalpel as he limped towards the other Chiss. He'd thought to merely kill the noble-born fool, but this was far more satisfying. His drugs had brought the man to the brink, and his silver-tongued words had guided him right over. As Strong's head impacted with the planks once more, he heard a cracking sound and felt the platform below his feet shudder.

Again, the mercenary smashed himself into the wooden surface, and again, ignoring the sounds, the pain, seeking the oblivion that would eventually follow. The Taldryanite watched as the platform finally split, Strong being so near the edge that the old and poorly maintained wood finally gave in to his assault. He didn't even hear the other Chiss scream as he plummeted into the depths of the forest. The entire platform shook as the crack widened, and cries of alarm were heard from the nearby hut.

Rhylance's head whipped around towards the old domicile, wincing as it began to collapse in on itself. The research, documents and samples alike were probably a write-off.

Still, he thought back to Garmis, not a complete waste of my time. Back to the ship, before they dig themselves out and begin asking questions. I have so much data to input for the fear gas.

Rhylance allowed himself a tight smile and moved off into the trees, back from whence he'd come. He intended to be gone before the lost mercenary's master could observe and question him. Not a complete waste of a day, he decided.

The smaller Chiss stood up and took a few steps back from his new test subject. He couldn’t resist the opportunity to study the effects of his newest creation in a combat setting, especially against an opponent in top physical condition like the “scion of the noble house Garmis.” Rhylance watched as Strong shook his head, trying to clear the fog that seemed to plague his eyes. He winced in pain as he inhaled deeply, his ribs causing him pain and discomfort.

Strong pushed himself up to his feet trying to ignore the pain of his burnt chest. His vision began to clear but the scene around him had changed dramatically. Fire was everywhere; the trees, the huts, the canopies ablaze against the darkening skies. The Chiss spotted movement coming from the hut he was meant to be guarding. A burned figured pulled another out of the charred hut as flames kissed the blackened wood. Strong ran over to the them as they fell over and caught them in his arms. A familiar set of gray eyes stared back at him and widened in shock and pain.

“Strong...lad, where were ye’?” The body he held was that of his master, Kordath Bleu. “You were...supposed to pro...tect us…” Strong’s looked on in shock as Ryn’s body went slack, the life draining from his eyes. Looking to the other charred body the Chiss could make out similarities to his master’s superior. No breath came from her stilled body.

”What is this villainy?!” Strong’s pulse was racing. He could feel the blood pumping in his ears. He...he had failed! His master, the lady Satsi, they died on his watch. It had to have been the other Chiss, the one of the wretched house Ehause. The veins in his arms bulged as he tightened his muscles in anger. Strong knew what he needed to do. Rhylance had to die!

“What have you done Stres’trong? How could you have failed in your duties?” a familiar voice rang through the Chiss’s head. His pulse continued to spike as his eyes widened to outrageous proportions.

“No, you...you can’t be here,” he said, standing up from the dead bodies and turning to face the source of the voice. “You have no reason to be on Kashyyyk, Father!”

“You boast stories of your name, a name you yell out with undeserved pride.”

“Please stop… how are you here?”

“The name “Garmis”,” the older-looking Chiss in front of him said while shaking his head, “You claim this name as if it gives you superior strength.”

The wooden platform they stood on crackled from the intense heat of the flames that surrounded them. Strong watched in silence as the fire encircled his father.

“Father, you must leave now!”

“You are a disgrace!” the man spat out, “You dishonor me, your mother, your family! You dishonor the great name Garmis!”

The yellow-orange, petal-like flames licked his father's robes and caught them alight.

“Please, just go.” The Fade’s words were barely a whisper as he watched his father burn.

“You sicken me, boy. You are an insult to me! You have tarnished the name Garmis forever!”

All of the sound around Strong went silent. He watched in horror as his father was swallowed by the roaring inferno around him. The last words of Lord Garmis rang through his very being.

You have tarnished the name Garmis forever!

YOU HAVE TARNISHED THE NAME GARMIS FOREVER

YOU. HAVE. TARNISHED. THE. NAME. GARMIS. FOREVER!

His heart thumped hard in his chest, sweat dripped down his face, Strong could feel his hands shaking as terror struck its chord. His deep blue face seemed to drain of color as he fought to catch his breath. His father burned...and he could only watch.

“I...I failed them...I failed him…” Strong muttered quietly as the flames crept closer to him. He could feel the cracking of his skin from the pyre’s heat.

…

Rhylance watched the scene before him with vigorous interest. The much larger Chiss had been running around punching the air, shouting random words at nothing. The muscular imbecile was calling out to his father repeatedly during the whole experience.

Subject seems to have a strong obsession with proving something to his father. Issues such as these tend to reflect either a less than satisfactory relationship with the parent growing up, or a disproportionate time spent between parent and children.

As Rhylance recorded his observations he coughed hard, and blood again covered his lips.

I need to take care of this sooner, rather than later.

The Taldryan Consul touched his chest in a very direct manner to locate the injury and determine how bad it could be.

I estimate that two ribs on the right side of my body are fractured and bruising. Must conduct treatment before any more serious harm may come to me.

Rhylance pulled out a small med pack and opened it up. After procuring the correct supplies the Chiss removed his jacket and pulled up his under-shirt. As his blue flesh welcomed the cooling sensation of the air against his bare skin he began to wrap the affected area with a piece of fabric gauze. The Consul then pulled out a syringe filled with a luminescent blue fluid and stuck the needle under the ribs, injecting the fluid into his own body. The pain alleviated after another few minutes.

As Rhylance composed himself and put his clothes back on he heard what sounded like a high pitched moan coming from the nearby hut. Taking a second to build up the will to continue after that disgusting display of candid affection, Rhylance pulled out his blaster. He’d had enough of these games. He needed that cache. A loud crash distracted him from his endeavors.

“What the kark did you do over there?”

“Sorry, Lass, I seemed ta ‘ave knocked over a wee bottle o’ wine onto these here papers.”

“Were they important?”

“I doubt it. Them glass vials that were under ‘em mighta been, though.”

“You frakken…”

Rylance stopped in his tracks as he heard the conversation. His cache, the only reason he even came to this backwoods planet, the only reason he put up with this ridiculous confrontation, had just been ruined during the consummate relations of three voyeuristic morons. Setting the weapon to stun, he prepared to enter the hut and get them while their pants were down.

…

Strong was frozen in fear; his fear of failure, not just of his mission but his failure to his family. He’d never experienced such raw heart-thundering fear. It was so...unnatural. The Chiss looked around and saw fire spreading everywhere. He should have been panicking but there was something in his head nagging at him, something he was missing. But what?

He tried tried to brush away the thoughts in his head and the fear in his heart, but the mind breaking terror kept pulling him back. His family name drug through the mud. His noble Chiss house...wait...Chiss...house...Ehause!

The flames surrounding Strong began to die down. He remembered what he was supposed to be doing. He remembered the Consul who had subjected him to this mental anguish. His purpose was clear. As the hallucination he had suffered finally died away, Strong looked around to see the very same Chiss holding a blaster and walking up to the hut!

Strong ran at the Consul’s back and grabbed ahold of him while he was preoccupied. Rhylance struggled against the much larger Chiss as Strong wrapped an arm around his throat and applied pressure, cutting off Rhylance’s air supply. The medic tried to fight back, but Strong, who he realized had broken free of the fear gas, was causing him to black out. The world grew darker until Rhylance’s eyes closed, falling unconscious.

Strong tossed the Consul’s body to the side and prepared to pay the other Chiss back for the horrors he suffered. Walking in stride to the downed medic, he cracked his knuckles in anticipation of some much deserved retribution. Normally Strong wouldn’t subject an opponent to such torturous cruelty, but this Chiss had earned such treatment with his unsportsmanlike form of fighting.

“Oi, you big lug, whatcha got there?” the voice of Strong’s master rang out. Turning to the voice’s source the Chiss was pleased to see that they were finally done with their “negotiations”.

”A trespasser. I took great care of him, don’t worry about this vagrant.”

“Trespasser, that sounds fun.”

Satsi, the current Consul of Clan Arcona, approached the two Chiss’ and observed both. Smiling at the realization of who this other blue skinned humanoid was, she figured this would be her best shot at him.

“Strong, go fetch my bag from the hut, would you dear?” she asked the muscle bound freak.

”If that is what you desire, milady.” Strong unknowingly agreed to whatever she wanted.

“Kord, be a dear and you take this frakker to the ship. I’ve some speaking to do with this Chiss of yours.”

“Of course, always sendin me out on dirt jobs. Oh, kark.”

The Ryn struggled to pull the medic away to the ship. He knew that he had the energy to get him there, even after his carnal activities. As soon as he was out of sight, Satsi turned to the towering Chiss who was returning empty handed.

“Milady, there seems to be no bag in the hut. Only the sleeping Wookie,” the Fade announced as he approached Arcona’s Consul.

“What the Frak did I tell you would happen if you didn’t keep that trap closed?” she asked him with an expression promising pain.

Thinking back, Strong could only remember a slight threat against carrying on his family's na…

“No, Please no, milady. NO!”