While considered only a moon of Trandosha, that is hardly the defining trait of Wasskah. The jungle moon is instead best known as a game preserve used for hunting sentient beings. Its surface contains islands with sandy beaches and thorn-filled forests. It is primarily the jungle that will be seen by those who have been brought there against their will. However, with enough effort, one might escape to an island.

Beneath the jungle canopy, Wasskah is alive with the sounds of the local fauna. Lush, green plants and vines cover the trees and hide the muddy ground beneath foliage. It is hard to find true daylight through the thick growth, but it is not impossible to come across bright rays of light.

While any sign of technology is nearly non-existent, some hunting nests remain to be discovered by the more tenacious of those trapped there. There isn't enough tech for a scavenger, but in a fight for survival every little bit counts. And every corner hides a potential threat.

You awaken at night in an open cage to a humid and vibrant jungle island filled with exotic flora. Any memory of how you got to this situation comes up blank, and the constellations in the skies say nothing as to where you are in the galaxy. However, a mark painted on your cage reveals a vaguely familiar emblem. The memory is fuzzy, but you recall recognizing the symbol as a crest for the Trandoshan Game Hunters: a league that kidnaps worthy prey to hunt for sport. You are now the next target of the hunt, and by the looks of the identical cages nearby, you are not the only one playing in the Trandoshans' most dangerous game.

A light electrical shock roused Turel from his drug-induced slumber. The Jedi rose only to find himself in a small cage standing on what appeared to be a beach. A thin layer of fog rolled over the water and inland all Turel could see a tangle of growth and a large rock formation shooting straight up in the distance. There was another cage roughly five meters away with an armored figure he couldn’t make out inside. Two more cages were planted further down the shoreline, fading into the moonlit fog.

“How’d I end up here?” the rogue Jedi inquired to no one in particular as he searched the hazy fragments of his memory. “I didn’t drink that much at the victory party. Please be a joke.”

Turel focused on the cage nearest to him, perhaps his fellow prisoner could shed some light on their predicament. The prisoner appeared to be wearing chief inquisitor armor, which at one time would have caused the Jedi concern but now gave him a measure of relief. Working directly with Arx had its advantages. The mysterious inquisitor faced toward the former Odanite only to revel the face of a Shistavanen with platinum blonde fur. He looked familiar, wheels started turning in the Jedi’s drug-addled mind.

Didn’t Scholae have a Shistavanen proconsul who looked like that? What was his name?

Turel noticed that the canine inquisitor wasn’t taking too well to their captivity, pacing in the cell and frantically clawing at the bars. He tried to extend his awareness through the Force to get a read on his fellow prisoner but to little avail. Whatever he had been drugged with was still wearing off.

“Ahoy friend!” the Jedi called across the distance and over the cacophony of jungle sounds and crashing waves. “Do you know where we are?”

Before the Shistavanen could answer, both their cages swung open. Turel cautiously stepped outside while his fellow inquisitor dove out of his cage like it was on fire and clung for safety behind a nearby rock.

“That’s...odd,” the Jedi remarked as he timidly began to explore his surroundings. He decided to head toward his fellow prisoner first. Whatever was going on, an ally would enhance his chances of survival.

Turel slowly raised his hand as he approached the stranger, “easy friend. We’re in this together it seems.” The Shistavanen seemed to be breathing very hard, as if he had just escaped a great terror. He raised his canine claw in a gesture demanding the Jedi keep his distance. “Just give me a moment,” he spat out between breaths in a surprisingly aristocratic accent.

“Okay pal, whatever you say. Just remember I’m not your enemy.”

Turel’s Force awareness was returning and he sensed that his companion was indeed another Force user and trying to control his fear at the moment. The Jedi also noticed that the Shistavanen also had no weapons on his person. Whomever had captured them had been quite thorough in removing their weapons and communication equipment leaving everything else.

After a few moments the strange inquisitor stood up, “Turel Sorenn is it? Of Odan-Urr?”

“Formerly of Odan-Urr,” the Jedi corrected. “And you’re from Scholae aren’t you? Their new Proconsul, though your name escapes me.”

“Mune,” the Shistavanen replied.

Before Turel could continue the conversation Mune croched down instinctively with his furry ears drooped back as if alerted. A few seconds later the former Odanite heard it as well, speeders approaching.

“Someone is coming, not sure how many,” Turel reported as he reflexively reached for the spot on his belt where his saber normally would have been.

Suddenly speakers on top of the cages crackled to life, “Welcome warriors to the grand hunt,” a repitilian voice hissed over the intercom. “Your weapons are secure at the top of the mountain but you will face many perils to get there yaaas. You are being hunted by the great Firescale clan. They will try to kill you warriors, kill them baaaack.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Turel retorted sarcastically to the voice in the speaker. Mune shot him a puzzled look.

“There is a ship hidden on the far side of island, make it there and you live. Fail and diiiiiie. Die honorably and you will be remembered in our great hall. Now, let the hunt begin!”

The sound of horns blew in the distance and the speeders drew closer at an impressive speed. Mune gestured toward the tangled growth inland from the shore. “We need to find some cover.”

“Agreed,” Turel replied without a moment’s hesitation.

As the pair swiftly made their way up the shore the speeders reached the waterline. Turel stole a glance backward and saw open air box-shaped speeders with weapons mounted on the sides and a cage-like cover on top. The speeders almost looked like mobile hunting blinds, which was no doubt their purpose. Trandoshians on each of the speeders opened fire with blaster rifles. The two Force users dodged the bolts as they ran, taking advantage of their connection to the Force. Other prisoners further down the beach weren’t so lucky.

Turel struggled to keep up with Mune as they ducked and weaved through crimson bolts of plasma and rocky debris.

They quickly came upon the tree line, the lush undergrowth promising generous amounts of cover. Mune dived headlong into the brush, his mind grasping quickly at the Force to lock upon his companion’s position a short ways behind. The speeders were closing in, blaster bolts singeing tree trunks and thick grasses in an attempt to take out their targets. The Shistavanen narrowed his focus and, extending a hand to either side, he groped for the thick vines. He pictured them within his mind, knowing they were close. He wove the vines quickly with the Force and as Turel barrelled past, the Arcanist drew the latticework upwards. With a growing ache behind his eyes, he visualized a wall before him that absorbed more than a few blaster bolts.

Turel spun around, confused at the absence of the Scholae Proconsul. When he realized just what it was Mune was up to, his mind quickly jumped into gear. He reached out with his own mind and with an effort they worked together to draw the net up. The pilots of the speeders slammed into it suddenly. The effort registered on the faces of both Force users but they stood firm. The speeders came to an immediate halt, their back ends swung wide and slammed into trees to either side and the riders were thrown into a bush, riding the aftershock of the explosion. Dead or alive, neither Mune nor Turel cared. They carried on into the jungle.

The brush whipped by, branches leaving stinging marks upon the skin of their cheeks. Mune adjusted his pace so that they may draw even as they moved between tree trunks and under grasping vines. Before long, the humidity had both men panting lightly, sweat beading upon their brow. They both sensed the danger at the same moment. They threw themselves in opposite directions, the grenade exploding and sending shrapnel tearing through leaves and cleaving vicious gashes in the bark of the surrounding trees.

They rolled back onto their feet. The rapid crunch of leaves and the whistle of a weapon splitting the air signalled an incoming attack. Turel jerked sideways and rolled again to his feet just as the electro whip shredded the bark of a tree just behind him.

Mune made his move towards his companion only to be hop back when the Force sounded a warning through his mind. The Zhaboka rent the air where he had but a moment before been standing. He twisted out of the back of the follow-up slash of the weapon. He adjusted his footing and shifted his weight in time to dodge a vicious stab intended to take him in the shoulder. Thinking rapidly with sharp calculation, he lunged. Mune twisted and struck the man at the elbow. The Force obliterated the joint in a vicious, pinpoint attack and the weapon dropped from the man’s grip. The pain drove a cry of anguish from Mune’s attacker. Mune wasted no time in acquainting the man’s nose with the open palm of his hand, slamming the cartilage up into the man’s skull.

Turel twisted in time to dodge another blow, though barely. His breathing came heavily but he remained focused. When the whip came a fifth time, he planted his feet and let the Force fill him. His mind, with the Force behind it, grasped the weapon intended to take his head from his shoulders. In an instant, the tip of the whip stopped and the hunter wielding it froze. Mune finished off the attacker by cracking him over the head with a rock.

“You alright?”

Turel gave a quick nod and turned his gaze towards the mountain, “We need to get our lightsabers.”

“I don’t know, that wasn’t so bad,” Mune answered with a bit of a sheepish grin.

“Speak for yourself, I am no fighter,” Turel rebuked.

The Shistavanen sniffed at the air then snorted, giving his head a shake. “There is no telling which direction they’ll come from next. We should get moving.”

“No rest for the wicked, I suppose.”

Mune carried the Zhaboka slung across his back. Turel loosened his unconscious opponent’s grip on the whip before coiling it and looping it through his belt. “At least we have something now,” he noted.

They took a moment to catch their breath before they carried on at a jog. They kept their awareness upon their surroundings in hope of detecting an attack in time to defend themselves. The last had come far too close for comfort. The ground began to slope upwards, indicating they had arrived at the base of the mountain. Neither had any doubts that there would be a trap awaiting them.

“Should we come up with a plan?” Turel said, turning his attention to the Shistavanen.

“A plan assumes we know what is up there waiting for us,” Mune pointed out, frowning slightly in thought.

“Need I make a joke about higher ground?” Turel grinned in an attempt to make light of their situation.

Mune offered a grin of his own, “Please don’t.”

The pair continued up the mountain path as fast they could carrying their stolen weapons. As they ascended the terrain became trickier to navigate. Mune navigated the inclines, loose rocks and large vines with an almost supernatural ease while his human companion lagged noticeably behind. Turel found himself having flashbacks to training sessions in the jungles of New Tython under Vorsa’s serene, yet stern, tutelage.

“Don’t Jedi believe in physical conditioning?” the Shistavanen quipped over his shoulder toward his slower companion.

Normally quick with a joke, Turel’s focus was solely on keeping up the pace and not having a heart attack in the process. He was reasonably fit, for a human, but had not fulled recovered his conditioning from his stay in Collective detention. “The Jedi--” the Sentinel paused to catch his breath, “--also believe in speeders.”

Mune cracked a smirk as they continued on. This former Odanite was starting to grow on him a little. Perhaps they could work together again, assuming they survived this ordeal. The crest of the mountain came into view as the sound of speeders in the distance gave chase.

“Ashla and Bogan, I really thought we’d catch a break,” the Jedi spat exasperated.

Cover was sparse in the areas of the mountain that rose above the treetops. Both men slowed their ascent and scanned the surroundings for anything that could give them an advantage. Mune’s canine eyes spotted it first, a cave opening not far from the path up. The problem was the cave opening stood by itself on the mountain face, there was no direct route from the path to the opening. They’d have to jump a small gap roughly two meters from the nearest foothold.

“The cave,” Mune exclaimed, “it's our best chance!”

“They can’t follow us on their speeders, smart.”

“I know,” the Shistavanen retorted with a grin.

Mune made the jump first, landing with a near-supernatural grace at the mouth of the cave.

“Okay, you can do this,” Turel muttered to himself as he prepared to make the same jump. “How hard could it be?” Before he had a chance to answer his own question blaster bolts began to fly in his direction. “KARK!!”

“Just jump!” Mune shouted as a stray bolt landed above the cave causing loose rocks to slide in front of him.

Turel closed his eyes, taking a few seconds to will the Force to augment his leg muscles. As he started the jump a near miss struck just below his feet throwing him off balance. Instead of leaping forward with a Force-enhanced movement, the Jedi tumbled forward.

The Shistavanen quickly realized his human comrade wasn’t going to make it. Almost on instinct he dropped his weapon and reached out with both hands, grasping at the Jedi with the Force. Turel’s downward momentum stopped almost as soon as it began as he levitated in mid-air.

“My hero,” the former Odanite quipped without thinking about it. A series of blaster bolts flew by too close for comfort as their pursers drew ever closer. “Uh, now would be a good time to lift me up.”

Mune shook his head as he maintained focus on lifting the human up onto the ledge. “That’s two you owe me.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize we were keeping score.”

The pair went just inside the cave and readied their weapons, Mune with the Zhaboka and Turel with the electrowhip.

“Prey is cornered yaas? Take the kill for Firescale clan!” the same reptilian voice from before boomed from a speaker on one of the speeders.

“I’d give real credits if he’d shut up,” Turel hissed under his breath. Mune made a motion for him to be silent in the dim moonlight pouring into the mouth of the cave.

From as best the two men could tell there were three Trandoshans on the modified hunting speeder, one pilot and two shooters. The pilot steered the speeder toward the mouth of the cave as the two hunters leapt inside to make their kills.

“I can smell them, they are cloooose” one hissed holding his blaster rifle at the ready.

“Watch out,” his companion replied, “they have weapons.”

“More honor for meeeee.”

Mune struck first, wielding his dual-bladed weapon with practiced fluidity. Unfortunately for him, his opponent had been expecting an ambush and blocked the opening strike with the body of his rifle. The Zhaboka danced in the dark, catching the occasional beam of moonlight and reflecting it. The Trandoshan hunter dodged and weaved the incoming attacks, attempting to make some distance to brim his rifle to bear, but with little avail.

Turel in the meantime had clicked the electrowhip on and attempted to catch the second hunter by surprise. He missed, his lack of skill with the exotic weapon showing through. “Forget this!” He exclaimed as he threw the still active whip at his opponent with the flick of a wrist. The hunter let go of his blaster which hung around his torso by a sling and charged the Jedi while unsheathing a large hunting knife with trained speed. The hunter found only air where the human should have been and fell flat on his face. Turel stepped out of the shadows and kicked his stunned opponent on the side of the head as hard as he could.

“HA!” the Jedi exclaimed in a celebratory manner.

“A little help here?” Mune requested in an unusually calm tone as the sound of metal clanging against metal echoed in the cave.

“Oh, right,” Turel said absently as he turned his focus toward the remaining hunter. The Jedi closed his eyes and the Trandoshan’s movements slowed and halted. The hunter was frozen in place for mere heartbeats before Mune placed one of the Zhaboka blades on his throat.

“You picked the wrong prey.”

The hunter’s eyes widened in horror as he realized he was now the prey. The Shistavanen removed the Trandoshan’s head with a single smooth motion. The reptile’s body slumped to the cave floor as Turel’s hold on it faded.

“Nice,” the former Odanite complimented.

“I thought killing was against the Jedi code?”

“Self defense,” Turel replied with a shrug. “Even Master Yoda couldn’t dispute that.”