The air around Grot positively throbbed with unseen energy as he cut his way through Felucia’s jungle. He felt a nervous, jittery excitement fill him to his core as his destination came into view through the rapidly thinning undergrowth. Some part of him knew this trip was borne of pure superstition, but another, more credulous part of him couldn’t contain the wonder and awe that the sight of the wind-scoured pit and bleach white bones inspired.
The rancor graveyard of Felucia.
There wasn’t another place in the Galaxy like it. Hundreds, no, thousands of rancor remains scattered in a perfectly lifeless expanse of land. Not even the jungle itself dared to disturb the sanctity of this place, so powerful were the spirits of the beasts that had died here. He turned to his droid, dismissing it with a nod as he moved up to the rim of the pit. He stopped only to mutter a quick prayer to his goddess before sliding down the slope.
The mercenary absentmindedly clutched at his talismans, running them through his fingers and praying for their power to protect him as he walked through the graveyard. It was times like this where he desperately wished he was more attuned to the Force, that he could feel that electrical aura of power seething just beyond the reach of his senses. He knew that there were spirits all around him, powerful and ancient, just beyond sensation. A dreadful aura of malice that let him know in no uncertain terms that he was unwelcome here.
He took a deep breath and leaned down beside one of the ribcages, marveling at how well-preserved it was. Under the coating of dust, it was still smooth and strong, despite what must have been years of decay. It spoke to the strength of the rancor that even in death it refused to be truly defeated.
The Trandoshan pulled a small pouch of sea salt from his pocket, sprinkling the white mineral in a rough circle around himself. Hopefully, it would be enough to hold off the spirits' anger while he worked. Slowly he drew his vibrosword, mentally marking here he would have to cut to harvest the bone, but a sudden noise behind him sent a jolt of fear and anxiety racing through his mind.
Cautiously, he sheathed the sword and got up to his feet. He turned around slowly and was immensely gratified to see, not the ghostly form of a rancor incensed at the desecration of its remains, but a mere Human a few dozen meters away. Superstition now forgotten, he quickly drew his pistols and took aim, the brightly decorated cloak giving him a clear target against the drab landscape.
“That is far enough, Human!” he shouted, glaring at the intruder. With a sudden flash, the stranger's lightsaber erupted from its hilt, illuminating the surrounding bones with an eerie blue glow. Grot fired off a pair of slugs, his pistols barking and flaring in his hands. The stranger ducked to the side, dodging just underneath one of the shots and blocking the other with a simple swing of his blade, the slug erupting into fiery vapor. He the evened out his stance, setting his feet shoulder width apart and holding his blade out in front of him with a strong two-handed grip.
“Well, I should've guessed that would happen. Sneaking never was my strong suit,” he said with a slight chuckle.
“I have no quarrel with you, Odanite,” Grot replied, recognizing the colors on his cloak, “I would recommend that you retreat before this comes to bloodshed.”
“You may not have a quarrel with me, Trandoshan, but so long as you stay in this graveyard I have a quarrel with you.” The Human narrowed his eyes, and gestured towards the bones surrounding them. “My name is Maximus Alvinius, I have been charged by Clan Odan Urr to protect this place. It is awash with the dark side, and these bones are tainted by it. In the wrong hands, they could do immense harm. Whatever you need them for, just pack up and leave. This isn’t worth the paycheck.”
Grot bristled with anger at the Human’s arrogance. He was about to retort when a message on his communicator caught his attention. His droid had thankfully not been idle, and reported a combat droid moving into the graveyard from the Jedi’s direction. They’d have company very soon, and not the friendly kind.
“I will leave here with my trophy, soft-skin,” Grot growled, flashing his sharpened teeth, “Either these bones, or yours!”
With a roar he fired his pistols, the cylinders rotating with a loud whir as the motor pushed each slug into place. A storm of steel flew towards the Jedi as he emptied the chambers, a deadly hail that forced Alvinius into action. He struggled to defend against the fusillade, his cloak becoming ripped and torn as the slugs passed far too close for comfort. He desperately blocked what he could with his saber, but was forced to duck behind a nearby skeleton for cover before he became overwhelmed.
