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 presenting more dangers as one descends towards the forest floor. However, as one ascends the vertical environment, the danger of falling increases until one comes 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.

In one particular forest, you have traversed the vertical nightmare from Wookiee settlements and into the unknown to become lost within the canopies. Within the crevices in 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 near-ending lack of footholds aside from the branches of wroshyr trees, you have found a series of abandoned and rotting platforms suspended a hundred meters above the surface, once home to a 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 your eyes can pick up unusual signals. Moss carpets particular areas on the platforms and nowhere else, tree-dwelling animals and birds never land on the surface. In the corner of your eye you see something swaying, at first thought appearing to be another species of vine. But when you turn your head fully, you clearly see it is rope, damp but tightly locked. You feel that you have entered an arena without invitation, and the motivation to search further intrigues your mind. Tread carefully, or you will fall whim to the creatures that inhabit this terrain.

Darkblade gasped for air as he hauled himself over the the ledge onto one of the many platforms that surrounded the tall trees of Kashyyyk. As he rolled onto his back breathing heavily, the Anzat looked around to view the scenery. The trees had leaves turning a bright red, signaling the beginning of the Autumn season. The wood he was lying on was slightly damp and slippery in some places, as heavy rainfall had penetrated the canopy of leaves hundreds of feet above him and been denied a journey to the bottom of the forest. Despite his athleticism the climb up had been taxing on his lungs which had caused him to lose his breath.

Panting slightly, the Mystic carefully rose to his feet and concentrated on the signature of his prey. The Seeker started in the direction he sensed Kul’tak had headed off to. Despite the Zabrak having tried to mask himself from the Force, the Anzat had no trouble finding him. Darkblade excelled at finding less experienced Force users who tried to sneak off hurriedly. The Aedile smirked to himself, lost in thought. It had taken him almost an hour to climb the damn tree, which started as soon as he was sure he wouldn't be spotted by the climbing Knight.

Suddenly the Seeker heard a noise ahead of him. It seemed to come from just around the corner from the platform he was on that circled around the tree. Coming to an immediate halt Darkblade reached out with the Force and searched again for the Knight.

He should be around here the Mystic thought to himself. Treading carefully forward he slowly reached into his robes to grab hold of his lightsaber. The hilt feeling comforting as it was the only familiar thing he could connect to at the moment. Darkblade unclasped his saber and brought it to bare, waiting to ignite until the time was right. Letting out a soft sigh the Mystic rounded the corner, he could feel the Force signature of the Journeyman as if he was standing next to him, yet the Seeker could not see him. Relatively confused the Anzat whirled around searching frantically, his heart racing and breath coming in shallow gasps again.

The Zabrak appeared out of nowhere in front of the Aedile and landed a vicious blow to Darkblade’s head that knocked him down to the platform’s floor. The sound of someone involuntarily exhaling could be heard for miles away as Darkblade landed flat on his back, yet somehow was able to keep his lightsaber in his hand. The wood let out a creak of protest as the unexpected force of the take-down bore through the floorboards. Dazed, out of breath and still confused the Anzat looked up warily into the face of Kul’tak.

“I could hear you gasping and groaning for miles away. Some assassin you’re supposed to be.” the Zabrak mocked. “All I had to do was wait patiently for you for the past hour, and sure enough here you come huffing and puffing away as if you had run a marathon.” Reaching down towards the Anzat, Kul’tak grabbed him by the robes and pulled him back to his feet. Why is your species so damn strong?! Darkblade thought to himself.

Kul'tak settled the Anzat once again on the rain-soaked wood of the platform. His smaller frame gave the Knight assurances in his victory, but he new to assume so quickly could also bring about his own downfall. It did not stop him from feeling confident in his chances should their blades meet. Which seemed likely considering the Seeker already held his at the ready, though the blade was yet to be seen. He could not help but admire the handle, it was well crafted and obviously tailored to Darkblade's personal (and somewhat purple) tastes. Hopefully such dedication to its ergonomics meant he was as attentive with his ability to wield it. The Zabrak was itching for a fight.

Darkblade was quick to retort, "Sure enough, yes. It certainly made it easier that I could smell you all the way here, Knight." The Zabrak's lips curved into a crooked smile at the jab, more amused than annoyed by it. This Anzat would be entertaining if anything. He took a step backwards and planted himself firmly in a martial stance, his weight shifting slightly as he bowed his knees.

"We both know why you're here. Come then, Seeker, and find your answer." Both swept their arms into position, Kul'tak having drawn his own saber from within the folds of his cloak. Two blades extended in parallel, one the royal purple of Krath and the other a deep Sith crimson. The space between them became naught as they crashed together, like two searing suns connecting in space.

The Mystic used his advantage of being smaller to try and maneuver his way around the bulkier Knight. He slashed in precise angles and thrust when he deemed necessary. Kul tried to find an opening, but struggled to gain ground when his opponent's stance gave him an even smaller target. The Zabrak tightened his grip upon his own saber, briefly spinning it into reverse grip for a wide coverage attack. He swung the blade in a high arc, hoping to drop some power on top of his opponent. Once again, Darkblade parried the strike and deftly returned the aggression.

"Your techniques tell me you follow the Jar'kai principles of swordplay, Knight," grunted Darkblade as he pressed his attack. "Yet you fight with only one blade. Peculiar." He carved a swift diagonal cut aimed at the Zabrak's hip, but Kul caught the blade with his own in a back-handed swing. Instead of following with another strike, however, the Knight promptly brought his gauntlet-ed fist to bear. He drove it into Darkblade's chest, driving him back several steps from the force of the blow alone. The Seeker coughed as he tried to regain his composure and air, but Kul did not press his advantage, merely tilting his head.

"I do not need a second weapon to be armed. My body is weapon enough to make up for it. Now, are we here to fight, or to waste time on words?" Both fighters cautiously approached each other, solemnity masking the light atmosphere of before.

After having been out of breath for what seemed like the entire day the brief lull in the battle was well needed for the Mystic. Focusing on his breathing and bringing it down to a normal pace, the Anzat sought for ways to stall for more time. The Zabrak was strong, as was usual for their species. During their brief duel the Aedile noticed that although their proficiency in their respective lightsaber forms was equal, yet the power behind the blows of the Shadow is what wore the Seeker out. It wouldn’t take long before Kul’tak would break through the Anzat’s defenses by sheer force of might. The only advantage the Mystic could see he had was that he was slightly faster on his feet.

It was time to use other powers at his disposal to wear down this tough opponent. Standing tall and allowing his palms to face the Zabrak, Darkblade dropped his arms and appeared defeated. His lightsaber still ignited yet positioned in an unthreatening way.

“Giving up already?” Kul’tak asked. “I knew you were weak, there will be no joy in killing you.” he growled towards the Anzat.

“I only acknowledge your fighting superiority and hope you will give me an honorable death.” the Aedile said. “It’s a nice place to die though, so high up in the trees and hearing the leaves rustle slightly in the wind. Nothing but air above and below me for miles. Be careful of the wooden floor though, it's quite slippery and rotten in some places. It would be a shame if you fell off the edge.”

The floor is quite slick in some places the Zabrak thought as doubt and fear crept into his mind. Suddenly rushing in and ending the fight didn’t seem like such a good idea. The idea of losing his footing and plummeting to the forest floor miles below him haunted his mind. An even more dreadful thought entered his mind.

What if my next step is on something that will cause me to fall? the Shadow thought.

Paralyzed with fear he didn’t move an inch. The sheer horror of dying due to one misstep and denying him an honorable death at the hands of a worthy opponent kept him in place. As Kul’tak tried to clear the poisonous thoughts from his head he closed his eyes and focused on the Force to find some grip on reality. As soon as the Zabrak had closed his eyes to rid the effects of the terror plaguing his mind, the Anzat rushed forward into the personal space of his opponent.

“Your fear of falling should never have been from the floor that supports us.” he whispered in Kul’tak’s ear as he stood behind him. “Your fear was misplaced, as it should be me you are supposed to fear.” With those final words, Darkblade shoved his lightsaber through the back and out the stomach of the Zabrak. The Shadow dropped his lightsaber and watched it bounce and turn itself off as it clattered on the floor before him, representing his own fate.

Pulling his own blade back out and extinguishing the purple saber, the Anzat watched as the Knight fell to his knees, who was unable to clearly comprehend what was happening to him. The Mystic grabbed him by the neck of the robes with his left hand and tossed him off the edge of the platform.

The only sound that broke the silence was a dull thud that reverberated throughout the forest. Kul’tak died with the echo’s of his fall on a planet that took more then it gave. Within minutes the forest came alive as predatory creatures descended on the fallen Sith, fighting with each other to get the best scraps. Sounds of tearing flesh and growling monsters rose throughout the woodland as Darkblade looked for a place to make his descent, far from the feeding frenzy below him.

The Mystic rubbed his chest as the duelists closed the gap between each other, albeit slowly. If he could just pierce the Zabrak’s defences, he could make this a short and bloody end. However, the Knight was clearly trained proficiently in his bladework. To ensure a victory would require one swift and final blow, for either of them. But Darkblade knew he could not fail, orders were orders. He rolled his shoulders as he felt some of the pain dulling away and prepared for whatever came next.

He watched the Zabrak pace around him. Seeking his own advantage, no doubt. It mattered little, he felt assured the Knight could not possibly match him in the end.

They met in a tangle of corrosive light. Their blades smashed the air around them, smashed against each other in reckless hunger for the other’s handler. Darkblade danced his way around the Knight, falling more into his natural cadence. Instead of meeting blade with blade as before, he merely ducked and gave the crimson saber nothing to land upon. Kul sensed the toying atmosphere.

“So this is the Makashi Act I’ve heard mentioned about.” He lunged, swinging broadly to upset the Mystic’s rhythm, but was unable to interrupt the fluid motions of his opponent. “An impressive display, indeed. But that’s all it is, is it not? An act meant to outline my own style’s weakness.”

The Knight cut forward, driving the point of his blade at an angle towards the Anzati’s throat. Reacting to the assault, Darkblade wove his a path towards the unarmed side of Kul. He met an immediate halt as the Zabrak’s arm crossed before him, wrapping him in a small hug and ramming his body into the ground. The air whooshed from his lungs at the impact, but he knew he could not waste time. He rolled to his left, dodging the boot that stamped where he’d been. The wood splintered and snapped beneath the force, and Darkblade was glad he trusted his instincts. Such raw strength. He could have been something. A shame, really. Would’ve been nice for them to send someone who actually enjoyed killing, though. He pushed himself back up, the Zabrak watching him with a crooked grin.

“Some have called it that, perhaps. It does the job most days.” He felt a throbbing and reached a hand back to touch his head. It came back bloodier than it went. This needed to end before the Knight won through pure attrition. No problem, he’d gotten a gist for what kind of beast Kul’tak was. He placed a foot forward and gauged the distance between them. If it was enough it would be cutting it too close for comfort. One hand fell away from the hilt of his saber. His fingers curled and stretched in preparation. The Zabrak’s bright orange eyes followed the movement and he tensed. He continued his slow tracing steps around the perimeter of the platform. His back faced the edge while he kept his eye on his target. The hitch in his strategy Darkblade needed.

With some gusto the Seeker propelled himself forward, drawing on the Force in a burst. His open hand came up from his side and began to glow. The Knight began to lean in to meet his advance with his sturdier weight, but quickly flinched as a blinding eruption of light emerged from Darkblade’s hand. Unable to see clearly, Kul panicked and waved his saber in a defensive fashion. It was not focused, however, and the Mystic easily slipped by. His shoulder rammed into the Zabrak, considerable power still behind it from his dash. Both went crashing over the edge of the platform. Kul’s impeded vision was still a problem, but he knew where his enemy was now due to their proximity. He managed to arch his body so that his downward velocity spun him around. His foot sliced through the air and drove itself into Darkblade’s gut. The blow pushed him a few feet away, where he was caught by a thick branch. The landing was not a soft one. He heard a couple snaps that did not originate from wood. Leaning over the branch he watched as the Zabrak disappeared through branches covered in their evergreen leaves. He listened for what seemed an age before he felt he had listened enough. There’s no way even a Zabrak could have survived that fall. Chalk this one down for the win. The next time the Dread Lord wants someone killed, he can do it himself…

The Seeker groaned as some of the adrenaline began to wear off and his brain began to nag him about his obviously broken ribs. He struggled to make his way down a walkway which happened to be installed in the tree he’d “landed” on. He realized later he forgot how he managed to get back to his ship in his condition. Once on board he gave himself some first aid, letting his natural healing do most of the work. His ribs would be annoying for a while, though.

In the forest, at the bottom of one of the great tree’s trunk a pile of old and dead branches had collected over the years. The detritus had formed a soft, buoyant layer around the tree. It rose high enough to cover most of the tree’s body-length wide roots Usually calm, it startled some of the smaller creatures nearby when it began to shuffle uncontrollably. They took off running when a hand burst through, red skin covered in black tattoos scraping its way out of the muck.