Inhabiting a large depression in the Dune Sea of Tatooine rests one of the oldest creatures beneath the twin suns. A hundred meters of the sarlacc's gargantuan body lies buried beneath the sand, concealing its several stomachs which digest its living meals over one thousand years. Intent on swallowing its prey whole, the sarlacc's mouth and beaked tongue reside in a sinkhole several meters wide beneath the shifting desert, ringed with concentric rows of spear-like teeth to keep victims from clambering to safety.

Although the Great Pit of Carkoon is not visible from a distance unless one is able to gain a significant vantage over the sands, those who draw near enough to see it are often within reach of the sarlacc's tentacles—appendages branching off its buried form that can be used to latch onto unsuspecting prey and drag them into its gaping maw. Jabba the Hutt once held great entertainment in watching his prisoners struggle against the saarlac’s inescapable hunger; the remnants of his lavish sail barge, the Khetanna, now decorating its feeding ground as a marker.

Beyond the pit, the deserts of Tatooine represent their own dangers between the blazing twin suns and the frigid nights. Civilization is a long ways away, and the nearest city is not a walk to be made on foot by even the toughest of species.

The Arena...

The fiery breath of the Tattooine's desert blows over the fine-grain sand, over dunes and valleys as far as the eye could see. In the north, the desert broke off and gave rise to canyons, mesas and some hills where Blood-ants, Bladeck boars, Cliffborer worms, and Eopie flourished, to name a few. In the West there was a sprinkling of oasis. For miles in all directions, there was no human settlement nor the sight of technology. The nearest semblance of civilization lay a great distance away, for who'd want to live under this withering heat, a scalding wind, and among inhospitable fauna? None but acid lizards, bantha and dewbacks, duneclaws, sandbats and other critters who thrive in this harsh place. Most bury themselves in crevices and holes underground while others take refuge near a rare oasis. The desert holds many tales, many legends; of monsters that swim under the sand, and of demonic beasts that drags its victims screaming inside its massive mouth ringed with teeth under the sands. To live on the Tattooine's desert, one has to understand it. With its star-studded nights and a chill wind, the desert can be the most peaceful place in the galaxy, until it's not. For who knows what lurks under your feet?

...The Man...

It is almost mid-day, and a hot, dry wind is blazing over the dunes. On the crest of one of those, a cloaked figure stood silently, watching over to the horizon. The edges of his cloak flapped in the wind, and from under the hood the edges of the man's thick, black messy hair quivered. Though Lorn was sanding with the sun on his back, he still had to shield his deep, green eyes with a scarred arm. Thusly, he looked around as if looking for something. It took some time to find what he was looking for: a decrepit wreck of a massive luxury barge. Once up on a time, if the story is true, this barge hosted one of the most powerful Hutt crime lords. Unfortunately, his Hutt bit off more than he could shew, and met an agonizing end. The barge is now the only thing memorialized that once-titanic struggle. It's towards this wreckage that the cloaked figure walked deliberately. It was clear he wanted something from inside that wreck. Either that, or he maybe liked broken boats. The edges of his cloak around his feet skirted above the sands as he entered the wreck, waving away the dusty cobwebs and crimson canopies that once functioned as sails.

It took his eyes a few moments to adjust to the low-light conditions inside the wreck. Lorn rubbed his eyes and scanned around him as he explored: broken furniture, fittings, wooden beams, some curios, burnt wooden floors with random holes large enough to send anyone falling the the black levels below, and perhaps a semblance of a throne at the far end of one room. His low footfalls made soft crunching noise on the dried and now-brittle, sun-dried, wooden floor. The human's senses had been alert as soon as he entered. He knew knew something was here. He could sense it.

...and The Beast

And then, he saw it.

His peripheral vision just registered something darting from one corner to another, just beyond the field of his vision. A low growl emanated from where the movement came. It did not like being disturbed, for it had been resting after a night of hearty meal. Lorn's senses warned him of something feral and animalistic, something not completely human. The glowl itself was fear-inducing, the kind of sound one usually runs away from. But he was not one to run away from a storm. He's usually found in the eye of storms. Grabbing his lightsaber, he ignited it, producing a blight green blade that gave rise to a smell of decay, and longer shadows on the walls.

"Come out of the shadows, beast. I know you're in here somewhere."

Almost immediately and as if in response to his challenge, the low growl rose into a resounding roar and from the shadows leapt out one of the largest lupine creatures he had ever beheld. It had launched itself into the air and was darting forward with superhuman speed. The human rolled out of the way just in time to save himself from being skewered by its claws. The snarling beast held no weapons, but its sharp claws and cruel, sharp teeth were weapons enough. Besides, it was massive! And if it could use the Force, this could be a steep challenge.

The massive bestial visage roared again, louder that the first one this time, and the roar shook dust from the broken ceiling, from where beams of bring lights illuminated the spots where they fell.

"You massacred half a Tusken village last night, you monster! Your days of killing innocents are over now. As long as I'm here, you will not kill again. You'll either come back to Botherhood space with me willingly, or as a dead carcass. I'm fine with wither of the options."

Fenrir only gave a low snarl and licked his cruel lips, as if to say he enjoyed the meat. However, he pondered over what the man had just said. Take him back to civilization, would he? He's like to see the puny human try! If he thinks he could end his fun and kill him, maybe he could recompense him by being his next supper himself. As if in reply to his words, Lorn saw fleeting visions in his mind. They weren't his memories nor of incidents he had heard of and imagined, although he wasn't too sure at first. He saw flashes of visions where he saw huts blazing against the black, starry desert sky, the sound of screams, mutilated body parts, mangled bodies and of blood flowing across the white sand in thin, red rivulets, shining against the fiery light.

The human almost reeled in shock, for he had realized that all these were the memories the monster was showing to him merely out of malice, as if to tell him how little he thought of his threat. He was almost in shock, but collected himself in almost an instant. He was no stranger to violence and massacres. He could not save the Tusken tribe, but at least he could avenge them.

"Dead carcass it is, then. Perhaps then the dead can be at peace!," saying so the Sith lunged at the beastial creature and swung in a wide arc, aiming at the middle torso. It dodged with superhuman speed. This was expected, and the Sith pushed on swinging precisely at the beast, but each time missing it, although a few times it singed its furry skin with the very edges of the lightsaber. The large wolfman snarled angrily at these, but did not attack mindlessly, focussing only of staying away from harm's way. He was testing the human's defences, sometimes scratching here, sometimes there. Thus they battled their way our of the wreck and onto the blazing, hot desert.

The intense heat of the desert beat down on the combatants, Lorn’s feet sank into the soft sand of the Dune Sea as he pressed forward. The elder saber swung repeatedly at the beast before him, poking and prodding at the creature to find a weak point he could exploit. Left shoulder, right leg, left leg, head, forearm, chest. He cycled through again and again, watching and studying all while the rage boiled away below the surface. How could this monster lay waste to an entire village? And just to satisfy his own appetite? It was vile and despicable. This thing would pay the ultimate price for its gluttony, it was the least that Lorn could offer the souls of the fallen Tuskens and gods knew how many others this mindless beast had slaughtered for fun.

As the pattern continued; attack, attack, attack, dodge, he could feel the rage inside of him growing, seeping into every fiber of his being, flowing through him, driving each strike towards its target, driving him forward. They were testing each other, but who was leading this treacherous tango? The sun hung high above them as they traded glancing blows.

“Fight me you coward!” Lorn’s composure began to crack. Gripped in both hands, he pulled his saber back over his shoulder, blade parallel to the ground, tip pointed out the heart of the hairy beast before him and lunged forward in an attempt to end this in one glorious strike. Both combatants let out a mighty roar. As the tip of the blade neared its target, Lorn felt a burning sensation ripple across his back and felt his feet leave the ground. Fenrir turned and swatted at the smaller man, raking his sharp claws across his undefended back. The smell of burning flesh and hair filled the Shistavanen-Firrerreo hybrid’s nose as Lorn’s saber seared a line across his chest, deflected away from a fatal blow.

Lorn hit the ground on his side and rolled a few feet through the sand, kicking up a cloud as he went. He could feel the searing pain welling up across his back and shoved it aside. He came to a stop laying on his stomach, face down in the sand. The Sith could feel the coarse grains grind between his teeth as he clenched his jaw. Even covered up, the insufferable stuff got everywhere. Fenrir looked down at the would-be hunter and sneered, bearing his sharp canine fangs.

“My meals don’t normally serve themselves up for me,” the beast's low voice rumbled. He ran his tongue across the lips of his snout just imagining the delicious meal the man would be. “I’ll be sure to savor it.”

Feeling the power of the Dark Side flowing through him, swelling within his muscles and strengthening his legs, Fenrir launched forward like a nexu leaping from the shadows towards its unsuspecting prey, his hands balled into a single large fist above his head as if to smash Lorn’s skull in a devastating blow. Alarm bells rang in the still prone man’s mind. Moving purely on instinct, Lorn twisted and rolled away from the attack, throwing a fistful of sand in the monster's face as he fled. He came to a stop and crouched, the hilt of his lightsaber held out between them, blade deactivated but thumb ready to trigger it in a heartbeat.

Lorn’s cloak fluttered in the breeze coming across the dune sea, the desert was eerily quiet. The only sound was the shifting sands as they settled from the commotion. And then he heard a rumble, but not from the beast before him. Taking a risk, he glanced back over his shoulder. Behind him the sand angled down into a steep drop forming the walls of a pit, the long slumbering sarlaac below now awoken thanks to the chaos above.

Lorn was now stuck between two hungry beasts.

Grains of sand sifted around them, vibrating as if from a titanic movement under their very feet. Rocks trembled, and even the wreck lost more of its already-dilapidated wooden boards. Down they fell, onto the sifting sands.

Suddenly, from some where behind Lorn, a volcano of sand and small rocks erupted, spewing forth a giant tentacle! And then another from his right side, and then one more. All of them starting to entwine themselves around the human, trying to goad him towards the yawning jaws of the giant Sarlaac that lay waiting for its next meal right under the massive opening behind him. Lorn seemed clearly taken aback at this new monstrosity, but gathered his courage and lashed out with his weapon. Red, angry wounds appeared on the saarlac's tentacles, but they were too small to bother the creature. At best they stung it hard enough to withdraw that single limb, but there were far to many.

Fenrir watched from a distance. He chose this spot as his base, for he knew what lay underneath. He did not bother it, and so the creature had left him alone, for now anyway. He watched as the human fended off the famished monstrosity with his blazing, angry weapon. But it was taking far too long! Seconds passed into minutes. The creature should have taken him by now. He ground his fangs and strode forward very slowly at first. If the creature cannot dispatch the human, he'll be more than happy to. Fenrir walked around the edges of the battlefield, well out of reach of the tentacles.

A giant tentacle smashed the ground just where the Adept had stood only moments before, but had moved with super natural speed out of harm's way. Continuing with same movement, he twisted his torso just enough to slash at the creature's limb, slicing off a large chunk clean off. The Saarlac roared and howled in agony. It was a sound Lorn had never heard before, and surely did not wish to hear of again. It was a sound between an animal, an insect, and a plant. If plants can roar that is. It was a long, drawn-out cry of range and pain, a sound that was carried far and wide on the golden desert winds. The pain seemed to have given the creature some new strength, for now its massive arms smashed mightily at the man, with vast sweeping movements to unsettle him. However, the starts shone on Lorn, and he still managed to fend it off, but for how long he knew now. He had to do something fast, or he'll be someone's dinner soon. He raised his black-bladed lightsaber above, ready to cut off another tentacle that was coming down to crush him where he stood. Suddenly, something back and massive barreled into him from behind. He fell forward with a thud, and a snarl came from behind his back, followed by a loud sound of something big falling on the sand. The tentacle had missed him again, but only because Fenrir had slammed against him. Cruel claws ripped at his back, making him cry out in pain. But that wasn't all. Having fleshed ripped from one's back is one thing, but being blasted by lightening through blood and bone is another. He felt as if his whole body was on fire. He had just enough time and presence of mind, even at at that crucial moment, to draw his remaining lightsaber, ignite it in seconds. By this time, Fenrir had withdrawn his claws from Lorn's mangled wounds and was moments away from sinking his fangs deep in him. But Lorn managed to turn over on his back, the coarse sand getting inside his wounds and making him wince, and slashed desperately at Fenrir's face.

The lightsaber had produced an angry wound on the wolf's face that send him howling back in back. He clasped his hands around his eyes in an attempt to stop any bleeding, his eyes shut with the sudden pain and fright. He felt around on his face. His eyes were safe. The wound or cut was over his nose and all the way to the scalp, but thankfully his eyes were safe. With blood flowing freely from his face and almost blinding his eyes, he roared and lunged like one possessed at the human once more, this time not to play with his meal but to finish it off in one blow. Lorn had stood up by this time, was holding his lightsaber over his head. Blood was flowing from his back as well, but he still had a job to do. He'd strike down the beast once and for all. Overhead them both, the sarlaac's tentacles swayed high like birds of prey.

Fenrir rushed at Lorn, but the human was ready this time. He had anticipated what was about to happen, sidestepped the lunging Fenrir and cut deep on his back with his lightsaber. For a few moments Fenrir tottered off the edge of the Pit and then fell down, sliding down the smooth sand surface towards the yawning jaws of the creature. Fenrir was almost dazed from the burning lightsaber wound, but had just enough presence of mind and time to focus deep, even when the Sarlaac was starting to close his mouth and drawing its many-fanged jaws together. Fenrir focussed deep. At first the pain was great enough to drive him into a shock almost, but in a few moments that agony subsided gradually, just enough for him to realize where he was. At first he sunk his claws onto the creature's sides to hold on to dear life. He roared a resounding roar that was heard far and wide. He grabbed on to the creature's sharp, jutting teeth. With superhuman strength, Fenrir ripped two teeth off the Sarlaac's jaws and started using them to dig deep into the creature's flesh in an attempt to hold on tight and hoping to fend off the giant creature.

Lorn stood above ground but this time at a very safe distance. His foe has fallen in the Pit, and his work was done here. Or at least the Sarlaac would do his work for him. They say it digests prey for over a thousand years. Perhaps this wound be a just end to such a beast. The human was still in great pain, but could still stumble. He'd go to the nearest settlement one way or another. He had just turned to leave that he felt a new tremor, the strength of which was growing every moment. He spat on the ground in frustration. What now?! An earthquake? He scanned all around. From the East he felt the tremor was coming, and there he espied a massive movement under the sand and rocks. Something enormous was coming their way. The Adept retreated up to the top of a large sand dune where he felt he'd be safe. Sure enough, that something massive swam underneath the sand towards the Sarlaac. What on earth preys on Sarlaac's, wondered the human Force User in amazement. Almost immediately, the Sarlaac gave a loud roar of pain, and it seemed like it itself was starting to get dragged under the surface. Some new monster was dragging it down, but what could it be?

Fenrir, meanwhile, knew very well what had come to his rescue. It had heard his roar, but he himself had moments to get to safely or he'll be dragged down as well with it. He slammed and dug the massive teeth of the Sarlaac on it's own mouth, one at a time, and started to climb up, blood still streaming down his face. He could just see the sky above, but that was enough to tell him his position. With the last bit of his strength, he launched himself towards the opening, and then fell on the sand right on the edge of the Pit! Still dazed with the effort, he started clawing furthur away from harm's way. He knew what was going to happen.

A titanic struggle was going on underneath. From the Pit's opening, there came the distinct roars of two different creatures, as Lorn observed from the high ground. But what was the second one? Almost as if as an answer to his query, the Pit burst out like a super massive volcano of sand, dust, debris, flesh and blood. The head of a great Kryat Dragon came up first, with the Sarlaac in its mouth, and the dragon scrambled out completely. He shook his prey in his mouth, his acid helping to kill the Sarlaac faster. It never had a change. So sudden and furious the onslaught was that the Sarlaac stood little chance. It flailed its tentacles around helplessly, but they did little against the Kryat Dragon's tough exterior. The process took around thirty minutes, but at last it was dead. However, the Kryat Dragon was in no mood to eat its kill, not yet anyway. It turned and moved its massive body towards its master, who by now had crawled over to a safe spot from where he was beckoning his pet.

Lorn's mouth fell open. What being pets a Great Kryat Dragon? Against this new creature that stood guarding over Fenrir, he stood no chance. Not alone anyway. Besides, both of them were badly wounded by now. Fighting anew would be a surefire way to die. Fenrir made no new movement either. He too was scarred and wounded, not did he order the Kryat to attack his foe. Lorn understood that. Perhaps Fenrir was too proud even after escaping from the jaws of death, and still wished to kill him on his own without any help. He'd not order his pet to kill the puny human that was wounded already. The Adept understood the meaning of this silent truce and withdrew from there. He'd have to come back for this foe another day.

Sand began to trickle down the walls of the sarlacc’s pit, eroding away at the sandy prison that held the massive beast captive, its tentacles whipped around in a frenzy. A strong gust of wind blew across the open desert, it felt as if the planet itself were angry, whether it was over the Fenrir’s atrocious actions or from being disturbed by their combat, Lorn wasn’t sure. But he felt that rage and shared it with the planet. He could feel a storm brewing. Lorn took a half step to the side only to be mirrored by his opponent, he tried the other direction and was met with the same result. Getting around the Shistavanen-Firrerreo hybrid and away from the pit was going to be tricky. Luckily the creature seemed to be fairly single minded when it came to feeding on his prey. Lorn straightened up and locked eyes with Fenrir, if it was a head on fight he wanted, it was a head on fight he’d get. Or, at least that’s what Lorn wanted him to think.

“So, am I just to be dessert after you gorged yourself on that village?” Lorn cried out over the sound of strengthening wind, dust clouds beginning to swirl in its wake. He slowly moved forward, closing the distance between them one careful step at a time, keeping his eyes locked with Fenrir’s and his lightsaber ready for anything.

“Dessert? That was just an appetizer,” he snarled in return and gestured to the fresh wound on his chest that had already begun to fade as the Force worked to hide the cauterized wound behind a pale scar. “You, you are the main course. And I will enjoy every morsel.” Lorn fought back the urge to lung forward as his blood boiled with rage at the beast’s callous flippancy in regard to the lives he had taken. Instead, cooler heads prevailed and he took a different approach. The Sith inhaled deeply, drawing on the power of the planet, a planet that looked so barren at first glance, but was teeming with life beneath that facade, the life of countless creatures that learned to survive in this harsh environment. He felt the power of the living Force all around and drew it in, coaxed it to strengthen his connection with the world around him and everything in it. In his mind he saw a line, like a rope tied around his wrist leading off past his quarry, to a piece of debris left behind from the long abandoned yacht. With a flick, he pulled the invisible line taught, yanking the debris through the Force and sending it flying through the air towards his opponent. Alarm bells rang in Fenrir’s head as he leapt forward, causing the projectile to come up short, burying itself in the desert floor and sending up a large puff of loose sand.

“Is that it?” Fenrir let out a feral laugh that bordered on a howl.

“I’m just getting started.” Lorn reached out again, finding another piece of the yacht. “But, don’t worry, I wouldn’t expect you to understand what's going on here.”

He pulled with the Force again and once more was met with the same result. Fenrir deftly lept away and the debris crashed to the ground kicking up a large cloud of sand. He took a moment and pulled a third piece down and again Fenrir lept away, each piece corralling the beast towards Lorn. The strengthening wind whipped around them, carrying the loose particles through the air around them creating a haze.

“If you didn’t understand what I was saying, I’ll explain.” Lorn crouched down and felt one more piece through the Force. “I was calling you stupid.”

He pulled as hard as he could one more time. It was getting exhausting and he was going to need to end this quickly. As the last piece of debris went hurtling through the air aimed at the beast's feet, Fenrir let out a mighty roar and leapt forward, his sharp claws extended and ready to rip Lorn’s throat to pieces. He wouldn’t be able to make fun of him if he couldn’t talk. Lorn dove to the side and rolled as Fenrir swiped at the man, his claws digging into the ground where the Sith was just a moment before and throwing up a fistful of sand into the already hazy air. Lorn spun, dragging his foot and kicking up more sand. Lorn didn’t press the attack, he kept himself as low as possible and waited, presenting himself as an easy target, allowing Fenrir to swing away, each time he narrowly dodged the dangerously sharp claws. Each attack added more sand to the growing haze around them. The Sith’s games were getting on Fenrir’s nerves, and he was going to put an end to them. Looking around, he realized that he had lost sight of Lorn.

The gentle afternoon breeze was no more. The storm was here.

The clouds of sand whipped around them so thick that they blocked out the sun above. Neither of them could see further than a foot in front of themselves and all sense of direction was lost. They could be standing side by side and not know it. Fenrir’s snout twitched and he sniffed the air, searching for any sign of Lorn’s scent. He caught a faint whiff of something foreign to this planet, his target was close and about to regret coming to this planet.

Fenrir swung at the spot his nose told him Lorn would be. The Force screamed at Lorn, telling him to get out of the way. He could feel Fenrir’s fur brush his side as he dodged to the side and spun around his attacker. The Sith dropped to his knee as he came up behind the vile beast and activated his lightsaber, bringing it around in a wide arc to slice at the Fenrir’s legs. The beast was expecting the attack and moved his leg clear of the attack. Unfortunately, he wasn’t expecting the second blade. A splash of blood sprayed across the sand as Lorn’s sickly green lightdagger bit into Fenrir’s calf leaving a deep gash. The dry desert thirstily drank up the crimson droplets.

The Firrerreo swayed but miraculously stayed upright.

Why won’t you just die already?! Lorn was at the end of his rope, barely able to stand himself, he gathered his strength and asked the Force to help him one more time today. Gathering himself, Lorn pulled on the Force, using it to reinforce his muscles, wrapping it around his legs and giving them as much strength as he could muster. He cried out as he leapt forward, lightsaber in one hand and lightdagger in the other. He connected with Fenrir’s hairy chest, his saber piercing through the Firrerreo’s shoulder. Fenrir lost his balance as Lorn crashed into him. As the two tumbles backwards, Lorn felt a sharp pain in his side followed by a warm, wet feeling.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the pair fell back through the thick cloud of sand and towards the ground. Blood spread out, staining Lorn’s cloak where Fenrir’s claws had dug into his side, ripping it open. As they passed the point where they should have hit the ground, Lorn had a startling realization: they were closer to the pit than he had realized.

As if in confirmation of his worst fears, a tentacle wrapped around Fenrir and himself, catching them only to pull them deeper into the pit and what may become their graves.