Dust swept through the air as a slight breeze danced through the expanse. Dreadful whistling slithered into the air as the wind snaked through the carcasses and remains of the dead. The void of darkness covered the rotting corpses, fallen rancors barely kissed by the bioluminescence of the flora that surrounded them. It left those in the expanse squinting as their eyes adjusted to the absence of light. Kah Manet, new arrival to Tarentum, leaned over a skull and gazed into the eye sockets and observed a small mammalian creature picking at the last bastions of flesh that clung to it.
The Gungan smiled as he looked at the creature, surviving even when all odds strove to destroy it. It reminded him of himself, a swamp flower growing amidst death and decay. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bag of jerky, ripping off a piece of it and throwing it at the creature. It growled with enthusiasm as it leaped onto the jerky, scarfing it down with gusto.
“Weak.” said a voice from the darkness.
The former Odanite turned his head, his peripheral vision allowing him to see the man behind the voice. Solas Night-Thorn, equipped with his dark armor and holding the hilt of his lightsaber, approached the Gungan slowly. His yellow eyes glared at the Scourge of Lianorm, studying the person in front of him.
“Yousa mussin’ bein’ dah one mesa meetin’ here.” said Kah, his hand instinctively lowering to be near his saber.
“You must be the leader of Tarentum’s Grey Jedi.” said Solas, “Fools that refuse to follow in the footsteps of those that delved into death.”
The finality of Solas' statement was underscored by his leaping forward, saber ignited. The deadly dance begun, Kah leaped back to put distance between himself and his opponent. Darkness billowed out from the Warrior, his anger seething as stood upright, sulfur yellow eyes gazing at his enemy as he placed himself into a ready position. The former Odanite merely shook his head, his hand grabbing his own saber and activating the turquoise blade as he also readied himself for the coming battle.
“Wesa no needin’ to be doin’ dis. Wesa allies, remember?” said Kah, hoping he could persuade the man in front of him. The Gungan, however, knew better. Zealots could not be bartered with or persuaded, a lesson he learned all too well.
Solas lunged forward again, bringing his saber in an overhead arc crashing down upon his enemy. When blade met blade, the Warrior rapidly released the lock and tried again. And again. Kah gritted his teeth as he was assaulted, a flurry of red and blue clashing against each other in the dimly lit area. Adept at Djem So, the Warrior knew how to use his anger and strength to his advantage. The Gungan, however, was not to be defeated so easily.
When their sabers met again, Kah had tilted his slightly and allowed himself an opportunity to deliver a quick kick to his opponent’s leg. It wasn’t a powerful hit, but it was enough to jar his enemy. Enough to give him a chance. The Gungan, capitalizing on the mere moment he bought himself, thrust his saber forward which caused Solas to dodge backwards. The Warrior gazed at his opponent with fire in his eyes, the sickly iris seeming to shine with burning desire for pain.
Kah could sense the surface thoughts of his enemy, the cacophony of his mind screaming in a chorus of nonsense. But one thing repeated itself, one common theme. Death. Death. Death. The Gungan had heard that the Tarenti were obsessed with it, trying to master the intricacies of controlling it. Was this what drove the Warrior to attack him? His desire to preserve life, rather than embrace death?
The answer would not come, and instead another assault brought on by Solas came. His saber came in from the left, tightly delivered and masterfully timed to almost gut the Gungan. Kah, however, had pivoted his foot and twirled to the right which earned him a burning scar and the scent of burnt flesh in his nostrils. He was hit, but it was small and superficial. Seeing that his opponent had evaded him, the Warrior let out a howl of anger and rushed forward, cut short by his opponent lifting one hand and releasing a torrent of energy in the form of a powerful push. The Warrior, mid sprint, found himself sailing backwards and landing awkwardly on his back.
“All of dis because mesa no wantin’ to learn the secrets of dah Tarenti? Because mesa tinkin’ dat life, not death, being dah way to real power?” asked Kah as his opponent brought himself to his feet.
“Yes. Because you are blind if you do not realize what we have to offer.” said Solas, once more rushing towards his opponent and slashing with his lightsaber. Kah had to hand it to him, the Warrior was skilled.
Again, their sabers locked and either side tried to gain the upper hand. Again, Kah tried to reason with his opponent.
“Tisn’t blindness dat makes me say nosa to yous. Tis pain and loss dat makes me. Mesa would love notin’ more den to have mesa family back, but not like dat. Slaves to mesa will is no way to honor der memory. True strength is being able to honor dem, live for dem, and see dem once more.
Solas snarled, pivoting to the left and breaking their saber lock. Kah knew his words had made no impact, and readied himself for another assault.
