When you are traversing the wild and untouched landscapes of the savannah, just remind yourself that you are never the apex predator. The vast and desolate area of sand, rocks, dead and ancient trees are all the same blood-orange color for a simple reason: to hide your worst nightmare from your sight, the Akul. A large, bipedal and orange furred mammal, the Akul are the top predators that hunt all sorts of bovine, dog, hooved and giant mammals. Using their extraordinary sense of smell, they can trace your scent from days long past and track you down without mercy.

Throughout the Savannah, tall and wispy Turu-grass stretches out into long ranging fields. Watering holes are sparse and spread thin, and the terrain offers little safety from the blazing sun that hangs overhead. When the sun retreats and gives way to moonlight, the Savannah becomes almost chill, but the night is dark and full of wild creatures. In the Savannah, it’s hunt or be hunted.

It was light, considering the lateness of the hour. Three of Shili’s six moons hung high in the sky, bathing the savanna in an ethereal white glow. A slight breeze tugged and played with the grass, causing Sashar to pull his jacket closer around him. There had been no assignment which brought him to the homeworld of the Togrutas, no grand proclamation announcing the vital need to retrieve some worthless trinket on behalf of the Shadow Clan. No, tThe Erinos had come to be on Shili for no other reason than to beat on a former Arconan.

He was a few tens of meters ahead. Sashar could vaguely discern the outline of his short, utterly bland figure as he stumbled through the long grass. The Arconae hadn’t the slightest idea what had brought Andrelious out to this remote part of the galaxy and frankly, he didn’t care. All that mattered was beating his face into the mud and leaving him gasping for breath with innumerable broken bones, knowing what it truly meant to earn Sashar’s ire.

Deciding enough time had been taken observing his quarry, the Mandalorian let the Force fill him, then jutted an arm out, blasting Lightning from his fingertips. It shot out, causing the still night to shatter with a crack like thunder before slamming into the ground a few meters behind Andrelious, spraying him with dirt and clods of earth. He hit the deck instinctively, taking cover, a lightsaber in hand, but no further assault followed.

That’ll shab him up. Sashar thought to himself, chuckling inwardly, before crouching low, letting the grass shield obscure his outline. He pulled off his jacket and placed it carefully on the ground, then slowly stood. A brief scan in the Force highlighted Andrelious, who had already spotted Sashar and had deactivated his saber, instead preferring what appeared to be an antiquated E-11 carbine, presumably hoping to keep Sashar at range. His grin widened, and the Force suffused him.

He went from standing to a sprint, racing towards Andrelious, his hands free of weapons. The pilot, to his credit, stood his ground, and took aim. As soon as Sashar came into range, he opened fire. His target stayed low, jinking down into the grass, then came up, moving laterally. The Taldryanite kept up the pressure, narrowing his aim down, but Sashar was never where he expected. The Elder moved freakishly fast and then was on him like a rabid nexu. A knee came up and smacked into the smaller man’s wrist, knocking the E-11 aside. Then Sashar’s hand slammed into Andrelious’ chest, knocking him back a few steps. Instead of following the assault through, Sashar moved his left hand down, past the pouch on his belt to the ground, then whipped back up, throwing a clod of earth and grass at Andrelious’ face. The larger man displayed a surprising spurt of agility and was able to dodge the makeshift projectile. He stabbed the activator on his lightsaber, bathing them in blood red light.

“Sashar. I presume Atyiru is on the other end of your leash, sending you to finish the job?”

“Wrong on all counts, you arrogant di’kut. This is all me. Purely recreational.”

Sashar unclipped his lightsaber as he spoke, letting the short cyan blade flash into existence.

There was a pause of about a moment, then they moved. Andrelious opened with a telekinetic jab at Sashar’s midsection. The Juggernaut steeled himself through the Force and simply barreled through the blow, then stepped close into the shorter man’s space, slamming his forehead down into the pilot’s nose. Andrelious reeled back, squealing nasally in pain, but still managed to swing his red blade around in a wide haymaker which the Arconae simply batted away. He kept the pressure up and slashed twice high, then lashed his left hand back around in a low blow, causing Andrelious to back up furiously, stumbling, or risk losing his kneecaps. Sashar smirked tightly to himself, then stabbed out with a telekinetic punch of his own, knocking the older man from his feet. He landed on his back, then rolled over, crying out in alarm. Embedded in his back were nearly a dozen small caltrops. Belatedly, Andrelious realised that Sashar must’ve thrown them with the clod of mud earlier.

“It’ll take more than some cheap parlor tricks to take me down, Arconan.” He spat, scrambling to his feet.

Sashar said nothing, but smiled and waited for the pilot to get up. “C’mon, you piece of osik. I don’t have all night.”

Andrelious slowly clambered to his feet, trying to avoid further damage from the caltrops. He could feel that Sashar had coated the weapons in something, most likely poison, and wondered just how long it would be before that would start to affect him. That, however, was the least of his worries.

The Warlord had only briefly met Sashar before his death on New Tython, but had known enough of his reputation to know that if the man he was facing now really was a clone of the former Arconan Consul, that he was in a difficult situation. Certainly, his present company was faster, stronger, fitter. Sashar also handled his lightsaber with such expertise that Mimosa-Inahj could see no easy way out of the situation. He was the target of a man who had masterminded Arcona’s advance to greatness.

“Just wait until I am done with you, di’kut,” Sashar stated.

Andrelious steeled himself as best he could, wincing from another spasm of pain from the caltrops. Reaching back, he brushed the embedded items away. Blood oozed out of the wounds, likely having already mixed with the poison that was slowly making its way into the Taldryanite’s body. The Warlord had no time to heal anything, however, because Sashar was already on top of him again, his shoto lightsaber flashing around at such a speed that Andrelious wished that the poison would hurry up and do its work.

Even as capable as he was with a lightsaber in his hand, Andrelious was unable to match his far more powerful opponent. Sashar frequently forced his way past the Warlord’s lumbering crimson blade, leaving the former Imperial with a large number of light wounds. Curiously, none of them were quite enough to completely disable Andrelious, almost as if Sashar was toying with him before making his point, if he even had one to make. Mimosa-Inahj was already beginning to wonder if the Adept was intent on doing anything lasting.

Stepping back, Andrelious focused on the anger he felt towards the clone, turning that anger into a vicious wave of Force lightning. Sashar was already moving to close the gap between the two Force users, but dived to the ground, his well-trained instincts warning him well in advance of what Andrelious was planning to do.

Frakking Mandalorian bastard. Why couldn’t you just stay dead? Andrelious thought as he saw that his latest move had failed. Frustration continued to turn into anger, usually something that helped give the Warlord an edge in battle, but Sashar was just too powerful. Another more hastily summoned bolt of lightning was easily evaded by the incredibly agile Erinos.

Smashing his lightsaber blade against Andrelious’, the younger Human smirked as he again forced his way around the Warlord’s defences. His speed was enough that he was almost able to pick a spot to inflict further pain on his opponent.

Faced with an opponent so powerful that even death hadn’t stopped them, Andrelious knew he was in big trouble.

Sashar sighed, disgusted. This wasn’t even a challenge. He stopped his assault, backed off a step, and held up a hand, forestalling any further counter-attack from the Warlord.

“Stop. This is boring. You’re taking the fun out of it,” Sashar remarked, irritated. He flung away his lightsaber into the undergrowth, and instead drew a kukri from its sheath at the small of his back.

“Oya. Come at me.”

Incensed, Mark drove his blade forwards, intent on skewering. Clairvoyance from the Force allowed Sashar the time to lean around the blow and slash a long, deep cut up Andrelious’ arm. He cried out in a mixture of alarm and pain, but didn’t let it slow him down. Instead, he kept pushing, another slash that would’ve taken the top of Sashar’s head off, had he not leant down, and slashed again with the kukri, this time cutting at the Pilot’s ample midsection. He staggered back, hating the feel of warm, hot blood pour down his arm and crotch, and despite having been cut before, these seemed to hurt more than he remembered.

Sashar grinned at the look of considerable pain on the Pilot’s face. “Ah, I was wondering how long it’d take to kick in. You’ve probably noticed that you’re feeling things a lot more keenly. The poison I’ve coated my weapons in was something I had the boys in the lab cook up just for you. It heightens the senses, making the pain receptors more sensitive. Basically, this is going to hurt. A lot.”

The cold grip of fear tugged at Andrelious. The Mandalorian was obviously very, very riled up about something, and wanted the Pilot to suffer. Suppressing his pain with the Force, Inahj swung his saber once again, but pulled the blow and instead blasted Sashar with a gout of Force Lightning from his other hand, sending the Adept back with a shout of surprise. His teeth bared in the rictus facsimile of a smile, finally gaining the upper hand.

Sashar rolled to the floor, arcs of electricity playing over him, smoke coming from the hole in his vest where the Lightning had hit. Underneath, an angry black burn centered around his solar plexus was forming. Despite the pain, despite being taken by surprise, the Erinos barked out a laugh.

“Better. I was beginning to wonder if you had any fight in you at all. Let’s see if you’ve got any more.”

He rolled to his feet just as the Warlord brought the blade down in a cut designed to slash Sashar apart at the waist. The Adept produced another kukri, this one having been strapped to his left calf, and squared up to Inahj once more, letting the light from the moon’s glint against the polished curved blade.

There was a flicker of motion, and Sashar whipped his arm out, throwing the blade at Andrelious’ face. The Pilot’s reflexes saved him, and he leant his skull away from the fatal blow. The Mandalorian, however, was not finished. He made his outstretched hand into a fist, and the Warlord fell to one knee, groaning in agony. From the back of his thigh protruded the hilt of the kukri; Sashar had clearly called the weapon back almost as soon as he’d thrown it, and telekinetically driven it into the Pilot’s limb, rather than lose it with a telegraphed attack.

“Get up, you mir’osik. I’m not done with you yet.”

Andrelious remained where he was, coming to terms with the incredible amount of pain that the reborn Adept was inflicting upon him. Even without the pain enhancing poision that now coursed through his veins, the damage that Sashar had done would have long immobilised a weaker man.

With a little difficulty, Mimosa-Inahj returned to his feet, having taken a few moments to extract his opponent’s blade and make a quick repair job on the wound. He had stopped the bleeding, and much of the pain was gone, but standing was still incredibly sore, and he could do nothing about the toxin. In short, the Warlord had little chance to fight Sashar off. Even the lightning attack, one of his favourite and most devastating moves, had done nothing to reduce the Arconan’s relentless lust for blood. “Going to run, di’kut?” Sashar spat, contempt dripping from the statement.

“I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of marking me a coward,” Andrelious snorted, knowing that any escape attempt was useless anyway.

“Perhaps I should see how good your riduur is. I’ve heard the stories,” the Mandalorian commented, eyeing his opponent’s wedding band.

“You leave her out of this!” the Warlord roared, leaping at Sashar, his lightsaber blade held high. He swung his weapon around, trying to decapitate Sashar, but the Adept simply stepped aside, having long foreseen the consequence of mentioning Kooki. The Erinos responded with a brutal counter attack, punching his opponent hard in the stomach. Andrelious, seeing what the Arconan was doing, tried to tighten the muscles around the impact area, but was a little too slow to do little more than simply cushion the blow slightly.

Winded badly by the Adept’s punch, Andrelious staggered forward, turning just in time to see Sashar coming for him again. He held his lightsaber out, threatening to remove anything that came too close, but the Arconan reached forward, grabbing the Warlord’s right wrist. With a grin, the Erinos twisted, smirking as he heard the bones snap.

Andrelious yelped with pain, dropping his lightsaber, but his enemy finished. Releasing the broken wrist, Sashar floored the Warlord with a sucker punch to the face, breaking Mimosa-Inahj’s nose, then proceeded to kick him violently in the ribs, breaking yet more bones. Andrelious coughed and spluttered blood droplets as shards of rib cut into his lungs. He rolled onto his back, still in agony, to find Sashar standing over him.

“Pathetic. Arcona is well rid of you and your sad little family,” the Adept spat, picking up his opponent’s lightsaber and throwing it against a nearby rock. He summoned his own lightsaber back to him, still keeping an eye on the floundering Warlord. Turning as if to leave, Sashar spun back on his heels, planting one final kick into Andrelious’ side. Shaking his head, the Arconae walked away.

Battered, bruised, and in pain, Andrelious focused on healing the worst of the damage. His grasp of the Force was just enough to allow him to knit together broken bones and torn tissue, but he’d need time off to fully recover. Time he could spend plotting and planning his revenge. On Sashar and his Arconan brethren.

As he allowed himself to drift into an unconscious state, Andrelious smiled. He had lost the day, but soon, he’d win the war.