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 present a threat as one descends towards the forest floor, though the battle-scarred beaches and the remnants of the Clone Wars provide refuge. However, as one ascends the danger of falling becomes the largest threat until coming 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 rain forest 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 signs become notable. 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.

The crumbled chunk of stem and leaf rolled between his gloved fingers, freshly picked and still a healthy emerald hue, now fading from life disconnected from its host. The Chiss carefully let the sample drop into a small airtight tube which he then stored within his backpack for later study. As he remained kneeling he reached his hand out again and the plant recoiled from his touch. The reaction was both intriguing and not surprising. The sources he had originally inquired with had mentioned that some of the flora in this area of Kashyyyk possessed sentient-like characteristics, a trait that the local populaces had accepted on principle and never sought to study further. At least according to most of the scientific avenues he frequented. With Odan-Ur still somewhat adjusting to its new leadership and participation in the fight against the Collective, Len Iode had been tasked with securing a sample of one of these plants to determine the extent of their sentience and possible connection to the Force. He was hardly an expert on the matter, but if the plants housed a significant quantity of Midichlorians there might be much to learn from them. It was at least worth it to bring it back to Kiast, if only to list the species officially in the records.

Len waved his hand slowly over the plant again. Its core stem swiveled around the trunk of the wroshyr tree in front of him. It seemed to grow its way into the old tree itself, emerging from crevices wrought from old wounds scored into the bark during the Clone Wars. He had only been able to access this particular specimen by climbing up an abandoned section of the canopy-homes that Wookies tended to live in. It had been a bit of a climb, but the finding of the seemingly sentient vines made up for it. His blazing crimson eyes gazed at the twitching plant with some regret. It was clearly in pain. He winced slightly as a pang of regret washed over him. If it was sentient, hopefully it was the forgiving kind.

A traveling wind whistled its way through the gaping space between the wroshyr branches, if branches they could be called. Most were akin to an entire tree themselves. The sound was peaceful and soothing in a way. A touch of nature at its purest.

The prick of metal at his throat, however, was not welcome.

Len tilted his head upward as a curved blade slid around from behind his peripheral. He tried to get a glimpse of the hand at the edge of his vision, but it was covered in a black glove. When he tried to glance back the figure behind him forced the blade upward, guiding his jaw to turn back forward. A low growl emerged from his apparent captor, and Len felt hot breath exhaled next to his ear.

“Not so fast, Lieutenant Colonel. We have business, you and I.”

Len’s eyes darted around the canopy, searching for any avenue of escape.

“Who are you? What ‘business’ would I have with you?”

The figure chuckled, the act causing the blade at Len’s throat to rub against him. He fought the urge to smile.

He’s holding me up with the dull side.

The captor fell silent after his laugh, and the edge of the blade tapped Len’s throat two times.

“Does the nerf ask the Krayt ‘why’ as it tears them open? Maybe. But the dragon does not answer. Only devours. Such is the circle of prey and predator. The weak fall before the strong. As will all of Odan-Ur.”

Len scoffed. Whomever his captor was, they were clearly arrogant and sure of their position in this exchange. Confident enough to divulge information like a personal agenda. Classic villain narcissism from one of those holovids he’d seen before. But it didn’t mean he had to wait to hear the end of his master plan.

Len rolled forward hard, using his weight and sudden momentum to land into a roll. His captor was unable to hold back his full weight with just the blade and it fell to the side. Len came out of his roll and spun on the balls of his feet. He whipped out his DL-44 blaster pistol and pointed it at the “predator.” He could now get a full glimpse of the being. It was a Zabrak male, though a hood shadowed any particular facial details. His armor was a light military variety, possibly designed for cloak and dagger operations. The ryyk blade he had sported now lay on the ground before him. The Zabrak made no move to collect it, but a second blade lay comfortably in his right hand. The smile visible beneath the hood was nearly begging Len to fire. So he obliged.

The shot rang out, a bolt of plasma lurching towards Kul’tak. Len expected him to move, but much more than he actually did. His open left hand came up and the bolt smacked into it. The energy burst around the hand like water crashing against a rocky crag before disappearing into nothingness. Unscathed, the Zabrak reached up and let his cloak fall to the ground. A shining crest at his waist caught Len’s eyes. A Plagueian insignia.

Well that explains some things. Raises a few questions, as well.

“I suppose your Dread Lord has issued a bounty for my head, then, Plagueian?” Len waved the gun while he spoke, as if to highlight the apparent obviousness of the question.

Kul cocked his head.

“No.”

“Then why?”

That arrogant grin returned.

“The Krayt hunts because it needs to in order to eat. I just hunt.”

Kul drew back his right arm. Len fired off a couple rounds, but the ryyk blade spun towards him with violent force and he had to move or risk being cut. The Zabrak followed behind the blade, hunger in his eyes.

The Chiss swore as he once again was forced into a retreat, the new blade swiftly sliced the air less than an inch from his neck. The wooden planks beneath the Odanite creaked loudly when he landed; some debris rained down towards the forest. The musty smell of old, worn wood invaded the Chiss’ nostrils.

Kul had moved towards Len, raising the ryyk above his head and preparing to throw all his weight into a powerful attack on the defenseless Chiss. The look of bloodlust in the Zabrak’s eyes, which had turned almost as red as the Chiss’ own, shook Len momentarily. With barely a nanosecond to spare, the officer rolled out of the impending attack.

The blade shattered the thin, rickety planks. As the platform gave way under his thrust, the surprised Zabrak lost his grip on the weapon, which plunged into the abyss below. It was no matter to the Battlemaster, his off hand reached for his shoto lightsaber as Len scrambled to his feet. drew his A280 and aimed it at his opponent.

“This platform will not hold us if we keep fighting!” Iode tried his best to convince his opponent, who let out with a hearty laugh.

“An interesting challenge would you not agree? How about we make it more interesting.”

Focusing on his feet, Kul raised his hand and guided the Force to that point.

The Zabrak focused on a single phrase over and over again. Consume the light.

Len brought his rifle to bear on the man’s chest, but suddenly his scope went dark followed by everything else. The Chiss could not even see his blue hands before him. Quickly, the Odanite replayed the events up until now until he found what he needed.

Three strides back should be safe.

Cautiously, the Chiss stepped, making every effort to be silent.

One...

...two…

The Sith made his move. Having anticipated the officer’s counter to the blackness, he navigated to the edge of the four-meter sphere. All he had to do was wait for Len to emerge.

Like a nerf to the slaughter.

The Sith ignited his sabers; one a traditional sized lightsaber, the other the shoto he had grabbed earlier. Len wheeled around towards the sound to defend himself. The Odanite thought he saw movement and thrust the butt stock of the blaster rifle into the dark void before him, simultaneously stepping diagonally to his right. As he completed his fundamental movement, the Chiss could once again see the platform.

The crimson shoto saber elegantly sliced through the A280, leaving behind an acrid smoke and the tang of hot metal hanging in the air before him. Len tossed aside his glowing remnants and threw a direct jab at Kul’s exposed left elbow, parrying the shoto arm away from him. Iode followed the parry with two jabs at the Sith’s upper abdomen, and used his triangular footwork to move toward his opponent’s back. The Zabrak grunted and then smiled as he began to wind up for a counter attack. The officer popped a flash grenade from one of his pouch on his vest and primed it, a soft whine started to build, rolling the cylinder with some force towards the Plagueian.

Eyes

A tiny voice in Kul’s mind said, shutting them the moment before the device detonated. The insight of the Force had spared Kul’s eyes from temporary blindness, but not his hearing. Opening his flaming red eyes, he saw the Chiss attempting to make his escape towards a thick piece of worn rope.

“There is no escape for my prey!” Drol bellowed.

The Sith reached out with the Force and grabbed the rope, moving it out of Iode’s reach.

Unable to see Kul’s manipulation of the rope behind him, Len reached frantically as it jerked away from him. He turned back to see Kul watching him with a snide grin, no indication that he was going to follow. As the rope swung back around Len attempted to grab it again. As expected a wave of Kul’s hand sent it on a second revolution. The Chiss let the Zabrak have his fun while he appraised the rope’s trajectory. When it came back he took a step forward and reached out. The rope jerked at Kul’s pull, but this time Len was ready. He snatched it out of the air and gripped it tight with both hands. Trusting in the engineering of a race that was heavy set as well, Len took a step back before lurching forward and pushing off the canopy. To his joy he sailed quite effortlessly across, though he felt the rope jerk downward a little. Whether it was from a tear or a bending tree branch, he really did not want to know. The change in height brought his lower shins level with the edge of the next canopy and so he landed awkwardly, crashing and rolling away from the edge.

Kul watched all of this with amusement, mentally placing wagers on whether his prey would make it across. He chuckled to himself when the Chiss almost slipped down the rope. The motion sent a wave of pain across his left side. He had tried to ignore it, but one of the Chiss’ bolts had found its mark. Drawing on the Force had also taken its toll and he could feel the side effects. Some exhaustion and lightheadedness the most prominent among them. His vision was clear so he knew he had a bit left in him, but the wound worried him enough to favor that side. The grip of his left hand had been adversely affected by it, as well. He wiped away some rising beads of sweat and started making his way towards the rope as Len pushed himself up on the other side. A slight limp developed while he favored his wounded hip. Reaching down to his holster, the Chiss drew the DL hand blaster and pointed it once again at Kul.

“Stay there, Sith. There’s no need for this to end in death. Whatever Odan-Ur has done to you, I had no part in it. Whatever has caused your anger or desire to hunt us, perhaps there is a way for us to absolve ourselves in your eyes?”

Kul stopped just far enough away from the rope to be able to grab it. He frowned at Len, disdain painted all over his tattooed face. It slowly evolved to hate as he spoke.

“You patronizing Odanites are all the same. Thinking you can save everyone. Not everyone wants to be a part of your hypocritical cabal. Maybe I do take my hunting a little too far, I was taught to respect the hunt. But Odanites...especially...make me so…shrakking...mad!”

Kul let his emotions slip free, his pent up rage at the forefront. The throbbing pain at his side slowly evaporated and he felt strength flood his entire body. His cells gnawed hungrily at the faux sustenance and embraced their sudden burst of energy. His vision, tinted red, hyperfocused on Len and a single phrase repeated itself in his mind.

Kill.

Len noticed the change in stance as Kul balanced himself on both legs fully again. Something was different. He began taking a few steps back while keeping his weapon trained on Kul. The tension in the air felt almost tangible and Len knew he needed to get away, but he could not quite place why. It was when Kul placed a supportive foot behind him, cracking the wood in the process, that the Chiss realized a few steps were not enough and he began to shuffle backwards in a panic.

He’s using the Force to empower himself in some way, most likely. The abilities of these Sensitives never ceases to amaze me. But I should probably focus on getting out of this for now.

His decision was made for him as Kul suddenly propelled himself forward, taking an inhuman stride before launching himself across the gap between the canopies. A guttural roar of challenge burst from his lungs as he lined up his leg to drop kick Len into his afterlife. With no better alternative obvious to him just yet, Len responded by firing his blaster. The bolts crashed into the oncoming Zabrak, whose flight was unphased. Most of the bolts splashed harmlessly against another invisible barrier raised from Kul’s outstretched hands. As the energy diffused around the barrier, Kul’s face was clearer and the sight of all of his rage and bloodlust combined almost froze Len in place. The Chiss timed his retreat and managed to avoid being crushed as Kul landed just in front of him. The wood held but complained heavily as the Zabrak landed. Getting desperate, Len fired his blaster point blank. The first round washed away with the barrier, but he had calculated his prior shots. He then shoved the gun in closer to fire again. The round flew unimpeded this time and seared a hole into the Zabrak’s chest immediately shutting down one of his hearts. Kul’s momentum took him forward, but he stumbled past Len as one side of his body struggled even under his rage.

Assured that he had secured victory, Len allowed himself a sigh of relief as Kul fell past him. He never saw the saber blade as Kul spun on his good leg and swiped with the shoto. The crimson blade sliced through the back of Len’s neck, severing the spinal cord. As both bodies collapsed Kul’s connection to the Force closed and his pain was immeasurable. As blackness engulfed him he watched his saber rolled away before it tilted off the edge of the canopy.

The two combatants were five to six meters apart now. Kul mentally weighed the options for his final attack his seemingly defenseless quarry as the nocturnal calls began to emanate from the understory.

The Odanite assessed his situation. Fear was beginning to creep in, but the Chiss pushed back.

There is no solution where you come out of this alive if you don’t escape. He cannot know anything about the mission, Len’s inner voice said.

It was right, his escape route was gone as were his weapons. One destroyed by Kul’Tak’s shoto; the other, his DL-44, the Chiss could see just a half meter behind the Zabrak and his glowing weapons in the way.

I should have used the pistol, instead of ditching it for the rifle.

Iode scanned around himself looking for another way to get as far from the platform as possible. He risked a glance at his datapad, but the screen was dark.

Can’t be long now.

“You have not put up as much of a fight as I expected Odanite! If all of you are this soft, I'm shocked you haven't fallen already!” Kul goaded.

Len then took a breath to calm himself, his death was approaching. It was something every soldier and officer claimed that they prepare for, but when the time came rarely got a chance too.

“One soldier on a mission of exploration, against a full fledged Sith Infiltrator? Hardly shock to me.”

“Quite right!” A smug grin appearing on the Zebrak’s face. “Good bye, light side scum.”

In one jump, Kul closed the distance and with a powerful swing of his lightsaber, Iode reacted falling into his hand to hand stance, but it provided no protection. The Odanite closed his eyes, feeling no pain as the blade of plasma sliced head clean from his shoulders.

As the blue head hit the soft wood floor, the smell of singed flesh and hair hung around the corpse. The Sith bent over to inspect his handiwork and heard a tiny electronic chirping sound. Investigating he moved towards where he first found Len picking a flower. As he approached the sound grew louder. Kul saw a small hole in the deck, just large enough to fit two hands into. Wanting to make sure it was not a projector or homing beacon, From crouched down to inspect the source of the infernal beeping. The Plagueian realized his mistake instantly; attached to the rotting support strut of the ancient platform was a proton charge.

The Zabrak jumped with all his might away from the platform and instinctively placed his hands in front of himself. The Force immediately tried to shield him from the blast, but the proton charge was more powerful than the blaster bolts the deceased Chiss had fired minutes before. Some debris pinged off harmlessly, but the concussive wave of the device itself shattered the barrier. Kul felt as though he had been kicked in the chest, he could smell and taste iron in his nose and mouth. Pain shot through Drol’s bloodied fingers, which felt as though they had hundreds of tiny splinters in them. The Sith opened his eyes seeing the remnants of the platform slip into the sea of green below. From beneath him, the Sith heard trampling and screams of wild animals as they hurried away from the smoldering wood which landed with a loud crunch.

The Plagueian swore, cough on his words as he descended into the hostile understory, partially regaining control of his descent. “I shall get my revenge on Odan-Urr for this, one way or another.”