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.

Above the Wookie settlements rests the wild rainforest 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 signals become noteable. 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.

Legorii had never been comfortable in the trees. He was a man of streets and of stone. The sunlight did him no favors, either. He was Anzati. It only laid bare his scars and left him blind. And yet, gazing out at the forests of Kashyyyk, it seemed that anything was possible. Even a moment’s peace. Something that had eluded him ever since he’d left the Citadel, all those months ago. But he remained loyal to the Serpentine Throne, even now. Even on Kashyyyk.

The Anzat’s comlink buzzed. “The Jedi approaches, my lord.” The metallic voice was a jarring intrusion in the treetops. The canopy city, once carved out of nature’s bosom, had been reclaimed by it. As Legorii paced, his impatience tangible, he took care to avoid the rotted beams which taunted him with promises of solid earth. The slightly distorted voice dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, and once again the chirps and chatters of Kashyyyk’s natives filled the silence.

“I’m nobody’s lord. Not anymore,” Legorii replied into the comlink. There was no response. The Arconan heaved a sigh and returned the device to his belt. Almost subconsciously, his fingertips brushed the steel hilt of one of his few remaining allies. It gave him some small measure of comfort. A prelude to the great comfort of drinking the soup of a Jedi, of one of Turel’s boys, and flinging the young man’s broken body from the treetops.

Edgar Drachen was known to Legorii, though they’d never met. The Quaestor of House Hoth, he was one of Turel Sorenn’s loyalists. Turel Sorenn’s loyalists. The phrase was as oxymoronic as Turel’s departure from Arcona had been moronic. The Jedi picked his way from one towering wroshyr to another, steady if not altogether confident. Legorii wasn’t sure whether to pity or admire him. Surely Turel had told him about the man he now approached. Surely he knew.

An easy smile adorned the Jedi’s face as he joined Legorii on the decaying platform that the latter had chosen. “A bit large for a tree rat, aren’t you?” Edgar put one hand on his hip, brushing back his cloak and revealing two lightsaber hilts of his own. Legorii met the younger man’s stare. He could feel himself being appraised. Whatever Edgar’s orders had been, the Arconan imagined he’d find some way to interpret them creatively.

“A man who stands in Turel Sorenn’s war room dares call me rat? I’ve never known a Jedi so eager to bleed,” Legorii replied.

Edgar’s grin widened, and he swung an arm in the direction of the forest around him. “Always so quick to anger, you Sith. I’m just here for the fresh air and the timber, my friend.”

The Arconan nodded. “If it’s timber you’re after, Jedi, there’s enough here for your coffin. You know why they sent you to me, right?”

The Jedi’s smile faltered. So he did know why they’d sent him. “Turel would never. Hoth needs me. There’s war coming, and you have something that we need.”

It was Legorii’s turn to grin. “I have nothing for you, Edgar Drachen. There is nothing for you on Kashyyyk but death. They tell me you’re a good man, but a bit of a loose cannon. I’m sure it was hard for Turel to let you go, but there are lives hanging in the balance.” He paused for a moment, as if to let the words sink in. “But not your life.”

Edgar Drachen ground his molars and set his feet. All vestiges of humor had faded from his tanned face. Deliberately, almost ceremoniously, he unclipped the lightsabers from his utility belt and thumbed the activation knobs. The Anzat just stared at him. A sardonic grin twisted his features. But it was his sanguine eyes that were most chillin. Those eyes harbored an unsettling thirst.

In an instant, Soulflayer leapt into his hand and all pretense fell away. A blur of emerald met Edgar’s arcing blades. The Jedi moved with ease, his face a monument of focus even as his compact frame moved with understated grace. Leaping and lunging, Edgar took care to avoid the rotting wood.

But with each deflection and riposte, Edgar learned more about the Sith sent to be the architect of his demise.

The combatants' blades crashed together as Edgar held his against the Anzat’s emerald blade With the blades sparking and crackling, he taunted the Arconan, “So this is mighty Legorii that I have heard so much about. Unfortunately you looked more impressive on paper than in person. I‘m disappointed.”

As if finding a new well of strength, the Sith broke the saber lock and pushed the Seer back, swinging his saber on a strong mid arch that was more designed to create space then any real damage. With a few meters between them they slowly circled each other. “I can now see why Turel sent you here as a sacrifice. You have no manners, no respect for those who are clearly your betters.” The Arconan lept back at the Hoth Commander with a much more vigorous barrage of strong saber strikes. So much so that the grey Jedi felt the Force flowing through him. It took all he could to remain focused on the pale figure in front of him. Deflecting the blows only seems to infuriate the Sith even more.

Edgar becoming more determined and focused on his opponent started to lure his opponent closer to the edge of the platform. Once he was close enough he parried the next saber strike and for the first time went on a full offensive. Edgar thought his opponent might have been beginning to tire and weaken, but he misjudged how much Force the Sith was drawing through his body. Edgar was caught off guard by Legorii’s counterattack, and the young Jedi's left leg buckled a bit as his foot slipped into a rotted section of the platform.

Capitalizing on the misstep, the Sith was able to knock Edgar’s saber from his right hand. Its yellow blade disengaged as it skidded off the platform. The Jedi just barely had enough time to see which direction his blade fell before the pale Azat delivered a brutal kick to Drachen’s solar plexus. Cracking at least two ribs and causing the Jedi to buckle over in pain and coughing trying to catch his breath.

“I have killed so many before you, all of them falling to my skill and power. A insignificant Jedi like you will fall to my strength and power, and I will enjoy killing you Jedi!” screamed Legorii. "Turel was right to send you to me. I devour the weak and your soul will be mine like countless before you!”

As the Arconan raised his saber for what he thought was the killing blow, Edgar was calling on the Force to help pull himself together. It was only at the last second was Edgar aware enough to dodge the incoming killing blow. Quickly reaching out with the Force, he grabbed and pulled a medium-sized boulder into the path of the Sith causing Legorii to dodge the incoming protect taking removing his attention away from his prey.

Slashing and cutting the rock in half as he got of its way. In the same motion he turned to face Turel’s sacrifice only to see Edgar running, then sliding off the edge of the platform in the same direction his blade fell moments before.

“You can run, Jedi, but I will drink your blood before the sun sets this day, I promise you that!”

Edgar careened into the leafy void. The wind whispered in his ears as he fell, errant branches buffeting his broken ribs. The pain was almost too much. His vision blurred. For a moment, he lost sight of the lightsaber hilt gleaming on the platform below. The brief lapse was enough to disrupt his concentration. Rather than land softly on the platform below, he crashed into it. Or, more accurately, through it. Rotting planks splintered beneath him.

Fortunately, the support beams held. Dazed, and bloodier than before, Edgar dragged himself out of the hole he’d created. Pulling shards of wood from his cloak, he stumbled toward his lightsaber hilt.

Legorii had watched the Jedi jump, bemused. It wasn’t surprising that Edgar preferred likely suicide to certain homicide, though his methods were questionable. Legorii’s comlink buzzed. “I saw him,” the Arconan snapped.

“Not that. A message from the Throne.”

That was enough to get Legorii’s attention. He thought of Pravus. But Pravus was missing. Atyiru. The Serpentine Throne. Before he could respond, however, the voice crackled again. “Or, rather, an…advisor.” Legorii appreciated the euphemism. “Apparently, it was a ruse. Turel did not send a sacrifice...Atyiru did.”

Legorii was quiet. His crimson eyes smoldered. Then, he chuckled. “No. No, Skar. I am no sacrifice. Our esteemed Consul—my beloved sister—may want both of us gone, but she’s craftier than this.” Skar, the closest thing he had to an insider, was hardly a stable source. But it was all he had at the moment. His comlink went silent, and he sighed. There was still the matter of the wounded Jedi on the platform below.

Legorii peered over the edge of the platform. Edgar had dusted himself off, regained his missing lightsaber, and caught his breath. The few moments had done wonders for his recovery, as the Force had soothed his aches and pains. The Arconan smiled wryly. It wouldn’t be enough. Making himself a conduit for the dark tendrils of the Force, he propelled his broad frame into the air. He seemed to hang for a moment, suspended like Edgar’s own disbelief, before plummeting toward the Jedi’s platform.

The collision’s violence was surpassed only by the violence of the duel that followed. Legorii drove his shoulder into Edgar as he fell, knocking the pair of them across the platform. To his credit, the Jedi absorbed the impact better than expected. He was on his feet in an instant, bruised but unbowed. Again, a collage of color dazzled among the treetops. Legorii brought Soulflayer to bear before him, slashing at the younger man’s knees. Testing his recently reset ribs.

Working his two weapons with singular focus, Edgar turned each cut aside. But there was clearly some discomfort, as he was unable to move as freely as he typically would, given the uncertainty of footing. There would be no canopy caper for Edgar Drachen. Legorii attacked with renewed ferocity, driving his opponent toward a mossy patch near the edge of the platform. He slashed low, then thrust high, forcing Edgar to sidestep. With his left hand, the Jedi swung his blade in a tight arc, aiming to remove Legorii’s own arm at the shoulder. His right hand, meanwhile, fended off yet another lunging Arconan blow.

Edgar’s mask of determination began to slip. It gave way to concern, then desperation. The moss crept up on him from behind. There was no real estate left on the platform. Again, the forest floor beckoned. He glanced toward the edge of the platform one too many times. Legorii caught on.

“Care to take another dive, Edgar? After all, it’s what Turel would want.”

There was a flicker of doubt in Edgar’s eyes. Was it really what Turel wanted? It didn’t sound like his Consul. But these were desperate times. Again, the Jedi looked away from Legorii’s sneering face. The Force welled up once more within him. Closing his eyes, he leaned back, ducking beneath a swath of emerald—and tumbling backward into empty space.

Legorii stepped to the edge. No more platforms in sight. Coward. He pulled out his comlink. “Drachen is dead. Skar, gather what few loyalists remain. We can turn Odan-Urr against Atyiru and reclaim the Serpentine Throne for the shadows.”

**

Edgar clung to the beam below, silent until long after the Anzat’s heavy footsteps had disappeared. He had to tell Turel what he’d overheard.

He really didn’t think about what he was doing. He just knew that he needed to get his lightsaber back, he needed to stop the pain, and he needed to get the Anzat off his chosen battleground. Legorii was on that platform long before he arrived and knew it well. The Sith knew where to step and where not to. To put them on a even playing field Ed had to force a move and so the Jedi made this leap of faith.

Once over the edge, Drachen realized he was not in line with the next platform since it was already half rotted away. As he landed, his legs fell straight through the rotted terrace. They were only stopped by a branch that was perfectly placed for his legs to straddle it. This abrupt stop slammed his already injured ribs onto the deck as well, blinding him with pain.

Edgar barely had the presence of mind to realize he had only seconds to react. He focused all of the Force he could to calm himself and ease the pain as much as possible. As he climbed out, he heard the Azat’s taunting him from above. Finally noticing his lightsaber lying in the middle of the next platform down, Edgar was about to leap for it when he immediately spun around, igniting his own crimson blade just in time to block a near fatal attack from above.

The force of of another large weight slamming onto this weakened structure caused it to fail. It was all either one of them could do to leap to the next platform.

“Here you are, Jedi! Thought you could run from me? You're finished and I barely had to break a sweat.” Legorii gloated as he stood on a tree branch so he could look down on his prey.

Taking full advantage of his opponent gloating, Edgar was able to let the Force repair what it could and dull the pain. Edgar slowly stood and called his second lost saber to him. Igniting his sabers he mocked the Sith, “I’m far from dead yet. Everything I read about you doesn’t do your narcissism any justice. It’ll be a pleasure to finally shut you up!”

Staring at each other, Jedi and Sith lunged forward simultaneously, lightsabers buzzing and crashing into each other as the duelists danced around, striking where they could. Being almost evenly matched with their saber skills, it was Edgar ribs that failed first.

The pain forced him to back off and hold his chest. Each breath was agony and the Anzant saw his chance. He rushed the Jedi with a direct assault on his knees, followed by an elbow to his chest. Ed was forced to drop his sabers and fell, landing face-first on the ground. Edgar was barely able to get his hands back in front of himself, just not fast enough from falling on his face.

The vampire was now standing directly over the clearly defeated Jedi. His proboscises started to protrude from his face “It’s over, Jedi. You have failed like countless before you and I will now feed on the soup of yet another Jedi.”

Legorii clipped his saber back onto his belt, content that his prey was no longer a threat. He pulled Edgar onto his back, just as five loud cracks of thunder exploded in his ears, followed by searing pain in Sith’s chest.

Edgar laid below him with one on his pistols, that he barely managed to retrieve from his holster before he hit the ground. Drachen punched the still shocked Legorii in the throat. The Anzat fell backwards on to the ground, coughing up blood and bleeding heavily.

The Seer pointed the gun at the Sith as he retrieved his sabers “Apparently it was you who didn’t know why you were sent here. According to your leaders, you have lived too long. Your arrogance has become too much for them to bear. Having you around threatens Arcona’s alliance with Odan-Urr. You were sent here to die.”

Edgar was able to feel the rage come from defeated Arconan. He felt the Azant trying to stop him. Aiming his pistol, Drachen fired one shot into Legorii's head, killing him.

Walking over to the corpse, he retrieved one of the Anzat’s proboscises as a trophy, looking at the appendage and then down at the corpse. He smirked and said, “There will be NO soup for you!”