***Outer Rim Territories***
***Nancora System***
***Nancora Prime***
***The Badlands***

Nancora seemed bothered. It often found itself driving its scratching winds in an effort to try and bury the insulting blemishes across its surface. Year after year brought the roving scavengers—seeking loose shards of metal and wiring for their trade value—though this only sought to add to the already substantial debris dotting its otherwise clear surface, because inevitably the planet would unleash its suffocating winds and grind them into the surface. Of course, the vessels they came on took a bit longer to wear down. Not that Nancora minded; it was an ancient rock and possessed no sense of time. While most millennia had passed with the same cycle in mind, this current millennia had come to require much more attention. With the arrival of a stubborn bunch of creatures who had developed ways to combat Nancorra’s gnawing winds also came those who sought to destroy them. Now the planet found itself working overtime to try and groom its surface once again. In one section, where a tower of durasteel stood in defiance of Nancorra’s attempts to bury it, a small vessel rocketed to the surface and ploughed a decent trench through the softer portion of a plateau. Within the cracking metal the planet could feel the energy of three beings, with one having a stronger presence in the Force than the others. The winds began to gather in anticipation. One more organic in need of a good eroding…

Were Nancorra capable of determining the specific designation of modern spacecraft technology, it would have noted that this particular vessel was an escape pod bearing codes belonging to parties within the Dark Jedi Brotherhood. And that the “organics” within were a Zabrak and his closest companions. And that the beings pursuing them were not allies.

*****

The air was dry. Not the normal dry when the summer sun beats back the clouds and sweeps away most of the moisture in the air for a week or so. This was another level entirely. The Zabrak lay trying to get his bearings, while with each breath he took the air reached in and dissipated what moisture it could. Though it caused discomfort to do so he continued breathing lest he find himself more akin to a Pantoran in the face than himself.

He was stranded, of that he no doubt. The burning question he came to consider was just where exactly he was on the surface. He whipped his head back and forth in an attempt to jog his memory. He could clearly recall having to abandon the Plagueis frigate he’d been aboard, and the Z-95 Headhunter that had subsequently shot down his escape pod. Again, however, he could not place just where above the planet the pod had ejected towards. He realised he was not standing already and twisted his body to begin the ascent, only to groan in pain as his bruised body complained. He could handle a bit of pain, he was a Zabrak warrior after all, but the true shock came from his mental link with his pet massiffs. It just was not there.

A panicked Kul’tak gripped hard on a piece of pod siding for a bit of support as he probed the gritty sea around him. His fear was confirmed when he spotted two dark brown piles half buried in the shifting sands. Stumbling over to one, he violently scooped the sand and tossed it aside as he pulled the bundle into his arms. It was Shar’kala, his female massiff. He hesitantly checked her vitals, wishing for the best while fearing the worst, but to his relief he found a weak pulse. He carried her to what little shade the torn pod provided then went back out for what could only be Shor’kir, his male massiff. The alpha appeared to be in slightly better condition as his heart beat stronger, but neither showed signs of consciousness. Kul allowed his two hearts to slow their rhythmic staccato and tried to clear his mind. Survival was now the priority.

The Zabrak checked the pod and began rummaging in what appeared to be the remains of the emergency supply bin. Within it should have been the necessary items to survive for a time for whoever happened to be stranded or whatever reason they needed an escape pod for. To Kul’s chagrin, the crash had peeled the walling off in this section, along with most of the supplies. All that was left available to him were his personal items, as well as a sole canteen of water and a few ration bars, and a flare gun with a chambered round. The charred hole that had allowed the wall to be ripped away led Kul to believe the other rounds would not be found. He did seem to recall a blinding flash when they hit the plateau, now that thought about it. Maybe that was why his head was throbbing so much. He took a quick sip of the canteen to wet his throat before forcefully placing it aside. If--*when,* he reminded himself--his massiffs recovered enough to awaken, they would need sustenance. Kul would sooner starve than watch his beloved pets die before his eyes. And to Antei with the consequences. Still...his situation was dire.

*****

Watching the image pulled up before her on her datapad, Kendra Icasta let a slow smile crease the scar on her left cheek. She had been ordered to follow an escape pod that had descended to Nancora’s surface below, and her readings had just informed her that there was a living being that had emerged from its wreckage. She and the rest of the her party of Huntresses had boarded a Collective vessel and followed it down, and now the hunt was worth it. It appeared she might get to have a bit of fun now. The retrofitted LAAT/i gunship her squad was occupying banked down and emerged from the atmosphere. In the distance a plateau rose to challenge the distant tower that was a hub for some of the Technocratic Guild’s scrappers. The pilot zoomed in behind it to provide them cover from the pod survivor’s view, as well as the rising winds.

*****

Kul rolled the flare gun in his hands as he contemplated his situation. What were the odds that someone would fly close enough to see a flare? Even if it was seen, it was more likely that the eyes would belong to someone within the Collective. Not that that bothered him. Confrontation was his specialty, and it would give him a chance to possibly find a way to contact someone in Clan Plagueis. After a few minutes more of bouncing ideas around, the Zabrak checked once again on his massiffs. They still lay silent in their slumber, their leathery hides rising and falling in jerking motions, but otherwise did not stir. If he had to move, it was looking like he’d have to carry them at this rate. That appeared to be his only choice. Sticking the flare gun within the belt of his armor, he gripped midway up his flowing cloak with both hands...and pulled. Against his raw strength the fabric ripped easily enough, and he continued tearing until he had a full swathe of cloth to work with. He fashioned this into a makeshift bag and stuffed the canteen and ration bars inside. The top end he tied to his belt where the interrupted pattern of the silver Krayt dragon embroidered upon it glinted in the sun. He cringed inside at the defecation of such an important symbol to him, but he reminded himself that survival came before pride. He could imagine the bemused look on the face of his fellow beastmaster and ally, Tahiri Drakon, as she scoffed at his expression. She’d have probably already hopped on her Tukata and ridden towards the closest enemy outpost already, throwing him a look of ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ The thought brought a brief smile to his lips, but it vanished quickly when he realized he heard the roar of an aircraft’s engine. It had to be close for him to hear it over the wind and sand as it scratched everything.

Ducking out from under the pod’s shade revealed to him that the vessel was indeed close. It rested floating above the pod while keeping the plateau on its port side to help block the wind. As Kul emerged he raised a hand to guard his vision as the craft opened its unloading door. He could make out a few figures inside, but the one that grabbed his attention was a Chiss woman with a cybernetic eye. His eyes narrowed as he recognized signs of the Collective, but he crossed his arms and maintained a calm appearance, regardless of being obviously outnumbered. The Chiss grabbed one of the deployable ropes and slid down it to the soft sand below. The others, a mixture of Kiffar and other cybernetically enhanced species, remained on the vessel with blasters and slugthrowers locked onto Kul. She took a few forward steps to get into hearing range, with no regard for the wind pounding her exposed arms and face. Kul rested his right hand over the top of his saber, while his left hid behind his back where he could quickly grab a ryyk blade. Both never took their gazes from each other, two hunters observing potential prey. The winds began to pick up intensity, rocking the vessel above them. If no one made the first move they would both be buried before nightfall. The Chiss spoke first.

“Greetings. On behalf of the Collective I am here to inform you that you are now our prisoner. Surrender peacefully and I will let you live. Long enough for us to find out how deep your knowledge of the Brotherhood goes, in any case.”

Kul’s eyes grew dark as he gave her a hard look.

“I did not come with my clan to Nancora in order to surrender to my enemies.”

Kendra clapped her hands together in elation, and her remaining biological eye glinted with excitement.

“I had a feeling you would say something of the sort. You do not have the look of one who knows fear so easily. A hunter, like myself. We enjoy ending the chase more than leading it. I shall kill you quickly, as one hunter to another.”

As the Chiss began to raise her weapon, a slugthrower that Kul had not even noticed her loosen from her waist, her commlink burst into chatter.

“Huntress, the winds are picking up swiftly. We need to get done here before the ship is dragged down by them.”

As if listening, Nancora’s winds shifted and drove into the exposed side of the LAAT/i. Distracted, the pilot was unprepared for the sudden turbulence and could not correct in time. The vessel screeched as it was dragged across the rocks of the plateau. Its port side repulsor cracked and burst into flame, sending the vessel spinning wildly. A huntress was tossed from the open door, her screams lost in the wind as she crashed into the side of the plateau and fell limply to the sand below. The rest were not so fortunate as the landing craft struck the plateau again and again, the winds unrelenting in their battering of the surface. Finally the metal gave way, and the vessel spun dejectedly to land in on the far side where bodies lie beaten and broken within. Kendra cursed to herself at the misfortune, but quickly shifted back her gaze as her instincts flared.

Kul was no new blood to combat. After years of learning to survive in the harsh climate of Plagueis, he had learned an important lesson: when opportunity presents itself, take it. He did not question the fortune of the winds striking as they did that day, but he did take advantage of the lapse in concentration his would-be captor showed. As soon as her eyes were averted he slipped his lightsaber up and out, but left its blade retracted, while swinging with deadly fury from the left with his ryyk blade. As the metal bore down on her he saw victory in his sights, but a sudden ducking motion taught him that he was against no mere soldier. As she bent low Kendra procured a weapon of her own, a stun baton, and thrust it into Kul’s abdomen. With his momentum and balance working against him now, she had plenty of time to activate the baton’s main function. Electricity pulsed into the Zabrak as he stumbled by her, and his muscles clenched in agony. He dropped to the sand as his mind blanked out of existence for a moment, but his churning hearts allowed him to recover enough to roll and dodge a stabbing heel the Chiss dropped downward.

His anger was now manifesting within him. It was always there, in the recesses of his true self. Though he had tried to temper it with patience, he could not deny the fact that his anger is what made him a strong Sith. With eyes blazing like embers, he rose before the Huntress and planted himself firmly. His vision began to cloud, centered around the sapphire glow of his opponent’s skin tone. His rage locked onto that and allowed it to guide him. He came at her, warrior and predator all at once. His mind registered the report of a slugthrower, and the stinging pain that accompanied it, but he continued to bear down. The rage remembered he had tools that he could use to help defeat this enemy. Glowing fire grew from the cylinder in his right hand. He slashed at the blue form with it, but it dashed away. He followed, only intent on destroying it. His rage screamed for blood, and he would satisfy its clawing hunger. On and on he slashed and punched and kicked at the enemy, but it managed to live a bit longer.

Kendra spun away again as the Zabrak bore down on her. He had become more like a beast than anything, his eyes wild with bloodlust.

*So this is the extent of the Brotherhood and their Force? A pity. I had hoped for more of a challenge.*

As she recovered her balance she slipped her baton back into its sling and exchanged it for a metal whip. With a shake of her arm and a flick of her wrist, the coiled strands flicked out and wrapped themselves around the Zabrak’s throat. A press of a button activated the charge within, engulfing Kul in another torrent of shocking tendrils. He resisted, his rage pushing him through most of the pain, by dropping his weapons and grabbing the whip with both hands. Assured that even he could so easily pry loose the tight cords, her remaining real eye went wide when the empowered Sith pulled the whip with all his might suddenly. The yank picked Kendra up and carried her over his head, where she crashed into the sand next to him. She refused to relinquish her grip on the whip, however, keeping the raw energy pouring into him. She could only watch in fear as Kul towered above her, a hand gripping his second ryyk blade. He raised his hand to bring down the fatal blow. The blade sung in the wind as it fell, aimed directly for her heart. Kendra watched as Kul’s eyes burned crimson, waiting for a moment to strike. When she thought she had her chance, the Zabrak’s gaze suddenly shifted and his eyes rolled back into his head. His body fell to the sand with a weighty thud and a splash of sand. His rage had run as dry as the desert around them.

Cautiously, Kendra poked at the Zabrak with a boot before grabbing at the belt buckle he wore that bore the symbol of Clan Plagueis upon it. She shuffled underneath the cover of the pod’s wreckage and rummaged in the pocket of her garment and pulled out a datapad that had been tucked away. Tuning it to a specific channel, she dialed in and spoke into it.

“Command, Icasta reporting. Tell Field Commander Ordam I have a prisoner he might be interested in. If the intel on the Plagueis scrolls is true…” she held the buckle closer to her cybernetic eye, “...then I have a feeling we’ve found a good lead.”

Kul’tak glared at the last vestiges of creaking metal sinking beneath the frothing ocean. Damaged in the battle above, his vessel had nose dived to the surface below, where it was unceremoniously swallowed by the waiting maw of the deep waters. He had managed only to grab three items in his haste to escape drowning himself, and now he wondered exactly how well they would do him. He scanned the beach of this apparent island he was now stranded on. Well, to say it was an “island” was a bit of an overstatement. Standing at one beach, the Zabrak could clearly make out the edge of the opposite beach not all that far away. A short sprint through the sweltering glaze of the planet’s sun would put him at the other side, though there wouldn’t be much for him to do when he arrived. His fate was now dubious as both sides’ fighters zipped about erratically in their macabre dance. If one of the enemy so much as spotted him, he’d be a perfect target for a quick strafing run.

The shadow sighed wistfully and plopped onto the warm sand. He rummaged in his cloak to set the three items he’d nabbed earlier on the sand in front of him. His trusty lightsaber had been the closest thing nearby, and a lifesaver for one who was trained how to use it. Now it represented nothing. It was just here. The next item was his zhaboka, the time-honored weapon of his people. Its blades were short, but its reach made poking the weak points in battle armor much easier. The last item, one he usually kept hooked to the firm middle of his back above his waist, was his thermal imploder. A devastating weapon in close quarters, it was able to clear a room when needed. Not that he needed a room cleared on this miserable pile of sand.

Here he sat, with plenty of ability to kill anyone he encountered but with no one to encounter. Annoyed, Kul triggered the activation mechanism on the imploder and tossed it into the sea. He waited the appropriate time before smiling as bubbles rose to the surface. He was surprised, however, when a handful of some species of fish floated to the top as well.

*Well, at least I won’t starve just yet.*

There once was a beastmaster in Plagueis,
He deliberately stole Laren's haggis.
They went a few rounds,
Ended up in a town,
And now their bout is replaying in Mos Vegas.

Manually added by Savant Kelly Mendes

*thump, thump*

“Who is it?”

“You called me, mercenary.”

“I'd recognize that annoyed tone just about anywhere, I imagine.”

*swiiishhhh*

“Ah, Kul’tak. Glad you could find time in your busy schedule to meet with me.”

“You know I'm just overseeing some of the repair work, Uscot.”

“Yes, well, I'm sure your brain was straining hard to give out all those difficult orders. ‘Move that. Push this.’ You should have joined them and put those muscles you love so much to work.”

“Sometimes I just want to punch you in your blue face, mercenary.”

“My, my, as touchy as always, Drol. Here, have a seat and we’ll discuss the information my source has gathered.”

“Uhhh...Uscot...your--”

“Patience, Drol. We'll get to your part. Sit.”

“Might get a bit drafty.”

“What...Never mind, if you're cold tighten you cloak. Now, if you'll listen I'd like to run this discovery by you.”

“So you might could say you want to *fly* it by me?”

“If you want to be facetious, Drol, we're going to get nowhere.”

“Well then, perhaps we should zipper this conversation shut for another time.”

“What is with you and these vague comments?”

The Zabrak huffed in annoyance before continuing, “Stand up, Uscot.”

“What? Kul if you're looking to spar, now is hardly the time. I know you Sith like to show off your strength, but just this once could you act like a sensible and straightforward person?”

“Alright. Straightforward…your fly is open.”

“My wha--oh. Ah...Well don't stare!”

“Lord Drol, do you copy? I repeat, Lord Drol do you copy…? LORD DROOOOOOL!”

Kul skewered yet another Geonosian flapping its wings in pained retreat while fiddling with his commlink. It was bad enough the insects were swarming all over everything, but the stream of reports and cacophony of reinforcement requests were becoming annoyingly incessant, as well.

“This is Drol.”

He backed behind the line of troopers pelting the bugs with blaster fire. It was the third offensive in the past hour, pricking at the lines to try and create holes for them to blitz through to the Pinnacle. So far the forces spread throughout the city had maintained a steady hold. The problem was the bugs seemed to never stop coming.

“Lord Drol, thank the stars. The Geonosians have managed to break through and gain a position within the Anchorage. If they break through there they can have free reign within the Pinnacle. We only have some skeleton defense squads positioned there while the others are out fighting. We need your squad to head there and prevent them from gaining entry.”

Kul sighed, taking in the smoke rising like dark pillars of some long-forgotten Sith temple and the frantic cries of battle around him. This wasn’t the type of training he had hoped to accomplish during his rest from a mission. The bugs were not even a threat in physical combat considering their main strength was found in the maneuverability from their wings and those weird blasters they carried. Still, even though Kul would prefer to keep taking the fight to them, he knew the insects were persistent and given time they could eventually threaten the Pinnacle.

“I’m on my way. What’s the status on the strike teams? Has anyone found the Queen yet?”

“No current locations as of yet, but that is part of your mission, my lord. When you reach the Anchorage, rendezvous with Lieutenant Garviz and his squad. Then you must push. Push hard. We have multiple units attempting to find the Queen but they need distractions, so squads around the Pinnacle are going to draw their attention. The Dread Lord expects results, my lord. Good luck.”

With that his com grew quiet again and the sounds of the battle pulled his attention. He knelt beside the squad sergeant who was directing the attack with the other unit officers. With a quick command, his Umbra squad was quickly rounded up in his shuttle and soaring in the direction of the Anchorage, with the spires of the Pinnacle rising high above.

Upon reaching the Anchorage, Kul found the units defending it to be running around as if all order was gone. He almost stopped and grabbed the closes trooper, but he realized they were all hustling to place debris in front of the large doorway blocking passage from the hallway outside.

*So this is where we stand?*

The room they were protecting had a shallow ceiling, which would deprive the Geonosians their precious flight room. Whoever had chosen this spot had been thinking clearly. The Zabrak grabbed a trooper as he ran by. Seeing a superior officer, the soldier tried to salute but the weighty paraphernalia prevented it. Instead he bowed slightly.

“My lord. Apologies for not being able to salute you. How may I help?”

Kul skirted the room with eyes. A small group of troopers and an officer of indiscernible rank were huddled around a makeshift table discussing something. He pointed in their direction.

“Is that who’s in charge here?”

The soldier nodded, albeit hesitatingly at first.

“Aye, sir. That’s Sergeant Fikkosta. She’s in charge since Lieutenant Garviz fell.”

Kul swore under his breath.

“The Lieutenant’s dead? Unfortunate…Fikkosta you say? That’s an Iridonian name.”

Curiosity duly peaked, Kul ordered his mean to assist as needed before marching towards the rickety table. As some of the troopers noticed his arrival they began to stand at attention, a chain reaction of the same going around until the Sergeant was stood saluting, as well. Much to his surprise, the Sergeant was indeed Zabraki. She was a full head shorter than he and still had the glow of youth about her, but even in uniform he could tell she was a warrior. Her stance, while deferent to his rank, left few openings for attack. With a light crimson complexion and high cheek bones, she was quite attractive by his peoples’ standards. He allowed his gaze to linger a second longer before nodding to them all.

“At ease. I’m not one for extreme protocol, and we have an enemy to defeat. So, Sergeant Fikkosta, what’s the current situation?”

Not used to dealing with the Force Users of Plagueis directly, the sergeant had to clear her throat of her unexpected nervousness and let training take over.

“Well, my Lord…”

Kul noticed the trailing question and glanced up from the array of schematics on the table before him.

“Drol. I have my Umbra squad with me as well.”

“…my Lord Drol,” she continued. “To be completely frank with you, we are *ua slari na onis.*”

The Shadow picked at the bindings of his gauntlets while he watched the emotions swirling behind her (distractingly opalescent, he realized) eyes. He could sense strength and conviction of purpose; this soldier would do her duty trained in the ways of Iridonia and the Plagueis war machine, but she could not shroud the inklings of fear that permeated the room.

“My lord. A massive group of bugs has infiltrated the facility and are heading this way. Lieutenant Garvis and some men managed to slow their advance, but it ultimately cost him his life and now we are stuck here with orders to go on the offensive.” She swept an arm over the schematics. “If we hold them here then they cannot get access to the turbolifts or the small hangar nearby. But an all out offensive seems pointless with our numbers. Why not hold until the hunter units find the Queen?”

Kul leaned on the table, careful to not break it under the pressure, and swept his gaze to each of the faces around him before stopping on Fikkosta.

“This group, along with a few others, have been ordered to attack in order to draw the attention of the hive away from the hunter units. If they think we are the assault, then the units in the caves have a better chance of passing through and getting to the Queen when she sends more troops up here. We are going to attack, and that’s an order. But I’m not letting you all perish here. We will—“

Kul was cut off as the large blastdoor reverberated with a large boom, as if some hulking beast had thought to open it with its head. A trooper manning a scanner shouted “They’re here!” just before the feed was cut and another crash erupted from the other side. Kul watched with an approving gaze while the sergeant moved diligently and placed her troopers in position for the coming threat. He soon followed suit, waving Umbra squad into whatever holes they could find. The sound of blasters priming filled the room, and then it became eerily quiet except for the thumping of whatever was trying to force entry. Kul took up a position near Fikkosta, one hand waiting on his saber. As they both watched the blastdoor tremble time and again, he spoke out of the corner of his mouth.

“You were right, Sergeant. We are between life and death.” He turned to face her with a grin on his face. “But it would be boring otherwise, yes?”

***Aliso***
***Plains Outside of Aliso City***

A cool afternoon breeze played with the loose edges of Kul’s cloak as he tried to place himself distant from his immediate surroundings. With legs crossed in traditional K’thri style, and eyes closed, he instead focused solely on the vibrant echoes of the Force as it embraced the plains around him. He was still close to the main city in case he was given a mission, but during his downtime often found himself enjoying the solitude with his faithful Massiffs. They were currently lounging about, but every so often would poke and prod at each other when bored. The bare ecology of Aliso left much to be desired in terms of hunting. Regardless, Kul still found this time to bond with his pets to be amicable and good reinforcement for his training.

Trying to ignore the incessant snapping of fabric being pulled too and fro, Kul finally sighed and opened his eyes. His pets noticed the agitation riding at the edge of his thoughts and glanced over. He waved a reassuring hand.

*Assurance. Follow. We return.*

Kul rose to his feet and threw his hood back over his horns. He noticed one of his Massiffs perk up with his short ears prickling and turn towards Aliso City. Thinking they were excited to return to the hustle and bustle of Willing at work, the Zabrak chuckled inwardly.

*Patience. We return now.*

Shar’kala, the female, came up to him and nudged at his legs.

*Correction. Warning. Scent of smoke. Direction of masters’ caves.*

The Massiffs had never really understood the term “building,” instead labeling them all as caves. They also had no terms for the many races of the galaxy, instead referring to them as masters, while emphasizing his own role as Master through their mental speech patterns. Their nned to simplify most things made more complex statements difficult, but emotions worked just as well, most times.

Kul shifted his gaze to Aliso City, and saw that his pet was indeed correct. The city was burning. Or at least part of it. He thought he could hear the sound of rumbling coming from that direction, as well. He was not sure exactly what the cause was, but the scale seemed to indicate an attack of sometime. He quickly snatched up his gear he’d set to the side and began running towards his waiting Delta-class T-3c shuttle.

“Shar’kala, Shor’kir, follow.”

Within the folds of his paraphernalia, a sharp beeping was emanating with the vigor, and annoying habit, of a klaxon. Still moving, Kul struggled with the mess of items until he pulled out his comlink and activated it.

“Drol here.”

“Ah, lord Drol. We’ve been trying to reach you. The Dread Lord has called for full mobilization of Plagueis’ forces. Aliso City is under attack from a droid army of unknown origin.”

“Lieutenant Grifen? I am pleased to see the attack has not claimed you. Tell HQ I’m on my way.”

“Thank you milord. I was hoping to find you alive and well. Actually, we have a set of coordinates ready for you. Apparently, the Quaestor of Ajunta Pall is in need of assistance.”

Kul frowned.

“Uscot? Copy that, send me the coords and I’ll head over.”

“Affirmative, Commander. Good luck.”

As Kul arrived at his shuttle, he huffed loudly.

“This battle won’t be decided by luck.”

***Aliso***
***Aliso City***

Another droid fell its chest sizzling as it melted away. Laren quickly shifted his aim, never slowing, in order to maximize his firing rate. His mind clocked slightly on overdrive with the aid of adrenaline, his eyes swiftly determined friend or foe and he pulled the trigger accordingly. What had once been a strong front holding the line had deteriorated into madness as droids emerged from places behind the defensive lines. His casualties had shot up since then, with only a handful of squads operating at effective levels. What wounded they could grab they had stashed within a small complex near one of the intersections of the street, along with a multitude of civilians. He’d received word that reinforcements were inbound, but with the seemingly never-ending tide of droids threatening to wash them all away, he wasn’t sure it would matter.

Another eruption pelted his group with shrapnel and dust, forcing them down. One of the buildings down the street suddenly began to creak. A rumbling shook the ground, and finally the building gave way and tumbled down. The screams of the civilians left inside pierced the air even as the raucous scene threatened to deafen them all. Laren turned away, remembering his focus was on the task at hand. He threw a few rounds of hot plasma in the general direction of the droids, but the thick dust had yet to settle and his vision was too impaired to pick a specific target.

*How had it come to this? Surprised by an army of relics from a time long past. How did they slip past our sensors and defenses?*

He was pulled out of his reverie when a hand clasped itself on his shoulder. He turned to find a soldier standing at attention, having removed his hand and snapped it to salute.

“Quaestor, we have a problem!”

The soldier was clearly trying not to panic, but having a hard time fighting the emotion. The mercenary waved the man down behind cover.

“Down man, do you want to die?! Now spit it out, what’s the problem?”

The soldier never had time to respond as a spray of bolts peppered the area from the direction the building had gone down. One of the bolts struck his back and the soldier fell dead. A few of the more seasoned soldiers saw the new threat and began to engage. Laren’s eyes grew wide as he realized the new threat was another wave of droids came clambering out from below the building’s foundation. So that was it! They were using tunnels under the city. But droids did not dig of their own accord, so who commanded them to? Those were thoughts better left to a more luxurious moment, however. Laren quickly sprinted, bent over to lessen the chance of the crossfire clipping him, and joined the new defense. He quickly gazed over their makeshift barrier of debris and enemy corpses (and some allied here and there, gazing pleadingly for vengeance with their open-eyed stares) and counted as many as he could in a short span.

*One...five...yep. There’s a kriffton.*

With the lines buckling on all sides, Laren needed to make a decision: hold until help arrived, or try and move to a more established defense. He could not be certain there was a more established defense, though. The assault had surprised the entire Plagueis military. What hope was left was dwindling with the defender’s numbers.

The dull hum of a shuttle’s boosters roared overhead. Laren looked up to see a shadow cross over the thinning dust cloud. What appeared to be a black shuttle opened its rear hatch, and a squad of jump troopers began to rocket down, raining blaster fire into the droids’ advancing lines. The shuttle itself began to rotate and its laser cannons opened fire, obliterating the frontline of droids advancing from the collapsed building. It passed over Laren’s position while continuously pelting what droids it could find. It began to lower and on the ramp Laren could make out a familiar form. Kul dropped from the hatch and landed on bent knees. He surveyed the wreckage around him while pulling his lightsaber from its clip and approaching the Quaestor.

“Fine mess, you’ve made here, Uscot.”

“When they told me they were sending reinforcements, I didn’t think they meant trash cleanup. Best get to work then.”

Kul huffed and activated his saber. Without waiting for Laren he leaped over the barricade and waded into the debris, slicing anything metallic that came near him. The shuttle passed over again, and this time two medium sized furballs came charging out quickly trying to catch up with their Master. They hit the ground rolling, but fixed themselves and dove for the combat. Using their weight they could crash into the droids’ knee joints and topple them over, then remove their weapons by snatching them with jaws. The squad of troopers that arrived with Kul formed up and finished off ones that had fallen or picked off any from their shuffling formation. Laren gave out orders to his remaining squads, and they reformed on the flanks to strengthen the line. Not as many droids were left in the open street, so the original attackers must have broken off from a different emergence tunnel and made their way here originally. Their main focus would be to keep that new tunnel contained.

Sweeping his saber side to side, Kul deflected bolts with his saber as he advanced. The droids had realized their predicament now, and so they had begun to retreat slightly to get behind cover. Behind their lines, Kul noticed a small insect-like creature hopping about. As his men pushed forward, it suddenly dived in the tunnel. It flapped some kind of translucent wings and had a bulbous head that stuck out weightily. Kul thought he knew the creature, but it would have been impossible for one to be here on Aliso of all places. Or was it? The Confederacy of Independent Systems had utilized this planet for some time. It wasn’t too far of a stretch to imagine they had brought others. But for what purpose?

“Uscot. Did you see that?”

“See what, Drol? The teeming scores of droids I’ve been dealing with for the past hour or so?”

“No...it was...A Geonosian, I think.”

Laren paused at that, a perplexed look shadowing his face.

“A Geonosian? They’re extinct aren’t they? Killed off by the Empire.”

Kul pointed his left hand towards the tunnel entrance.

“Apparently not all of them. They must be the one’s controlling the droids. I just don’t know why.”

Laren blasted a droid off to the side as it emerged from a building. Then tossed a thermal detonator in when a few more popped their heads out. Their group pushed on and eventually reached the tunnel itself. Kul and Laren both peered into the gaping hole before glancing at one another. Laren shook his head as a wide grin began to spread across Kul’s face.

“Ohhhh no. I don’t need mind reading powers to know what you’re thinking, Drol. I am not going down there until we have a full grasp of the situation. We need to report to HQ and let them know what we’ve found, there are civilians and wounded left to escort…”

“Like that’s stopped you before, Uscot. Your caring attitude isn’t exactly one of your strong points. Besides, I didn’t give you a choice in the matter really.”

With that Kul pushed the Pantoran into the hole. As a string of life-threatening curses followed him down, Kul and his Massiffs joined him.

“Here Sith, Sith. Where are youuuu?”

A gang of Weequay pirates stalked through the thick underbrush of their hunting grounds. It was a rather sizeable locale, a forest perfect for the small excursions they so enjoyed for sport. Evidently they needed the practice. They’d foregone the position of hunter as soon as Kul had broken free of his restraints. Now, *he* was the hunter. As it should be. These pirates lacked any sort of bond with the flow of nature around them while Kul relished its touch. He could feel the life of the forest as it exhaled around him. The very trap the pirates had fashioned for their victims would become their graves.

The group of Weequay consisted of six pirates, equipped especially for dealing with the Sith. Thick, plated armor protected them from his ryyk blades, the only weapons they'd allowed him once he'd managed to find the cache hidden away. He grinned at their casual confidence in their toys. A Sith did not need physical weapons when their very bodies were forged to destroy. The Zabrak’s tribal upbringing just further ensured his survivability.

Unaware they were the one’s being followed, the pirates began to break off in pairs with a signal from the leading Weequay in the hopes of surrounding where they thought their prey had fled. It had been a simple matter to activate his Force cloak and ply their strategy with his own. Kul began to slightly quicken his pace, cloaking again and heading towards the left flank of the group. This pair were packing some heat with DLT-20a rifles slung in front of each, primed and ready.

“See anything, Squat’ch,” the smaller asked petulantly. His partner, maintaining an air of confidence in front of his inexperienced comrade, gave a huff.

“Nah. Reckon he won’t show face with all of us ag’in em. The Sith caw loud, but are yella-bellied in the real deal.”

The younger gazed back in awe.

“Ya mean you’ve fought a real Sith before?”

“Oh aye, Ric’k. Weren’t much offa bother, really. I even kept his shiny doodad laser sword for proof.”

He patted a silver cylinder swinging at his hip.

“That’s an armory saber. Only an acolyte wields such a blade. Hardly a challenge worth bragging over.”

Both Weequay swung their heads in unison trying to find the origin of the strange voice. It was heavy and gruff, the voice a mountain might possess. It gave an amused chuckle, causing them to turn yet again.

“It's ironic, I suppose. The moment you learn what a true Sith is...and it’s your last.”

Ric’k watched in abstract horror as a figure appeared seemingly out of nothing behind his companion. Before he could even consider placing his shaking finger on his trigger, Squat’ch’s head twisted at an unnatural angle before a sickening pop echoed through their small space of the forest. Both Weequay sunk to the ground, but only one still breathing.

The Zabrak's now visible eyes bored into the young pirate with a serious expression before suddenly breaking into a face so evil, Ric’k nearly lost his mind.

“Run little pirate. Your friends are next.”

Legs shaking, Ric’k pulled himself together enough to break into a sprint towards the other pairs while screaming at the top of his lungs. Kul flinched as the disturbance bothered the local fauna and he felt their shock. He inhaled deeply and raised his arms wide to the forest, imagining the ebb and flow passing through him.

“I feel your concern. Your hate of this desecration of your cycle. As apology, I offer you these as intruders as appeasement. Their flesh shall further sustain you.”

Lowering his arms, Kul reached out into the wilds and probed for whatever would respond. As flickers of life began to light up around him he began to laugh, exploding into joyous cackling. The exhilaration of power was overwhelming. He traced the flickers with his own consciousness.

“I am sorry, my friends, but I must show you the path to self preservation. It is against your natural instinct, but necessary for the cycle to continue unimpeded.”

He broke their will.

Ric’k slowed in his sprint as he caught the others, his chest heaving. They turned, having regrouped at a rally point some minutes ago. The leader, a burly pirate named Aganis, tapped his ear impatiently.

“Ric’k I tried contactin’ ya. Where’s yer ‘eadset? Oi. Where’s Squat’ch?” He grabbed the small Weequay in both hands and pulled him to his face. “Where’s my brother?”

Struggling to breathe correctly, Ric’k told them what had transpired. With eyes burning, Aganis dropped him and tore the scattergun from his back.

“That kriffin’ Sith! This was supposed to be an easy hunt for you newer lads. Looks like I underestimated this one, boys.”

A branch snapped behind them coming from the direction Ric’k had run and Kul emerged from the trees.

“You have no idea, pirate.”

The Weequays shuffled to arm themselves as Aganis lowered his scattergun

“Gimme one good reason why I shouldn't blast yer eyes out right here, Sith.”

Kul cocked his head slightly, genuinely confused.

“Besides the fact that you were here to kill me? I'd have to say that you should because now the forest is angry. And when the forest is angry, I can do my work.”

Aganis was the one confused now, but he waved a hand and the other pirates readied their weapons.

Kul closed his eyes.

Fingers stroked their triggers.

The forest exploded.

All manner of beasts leapt forth from the trees. Tooth, claw, and beak bore down on the pirates and they watched dumbstruck before opening fire. They put down beast after enraged beast, but the forest would inevitably win this battle of attrition. One by one the Weequay fell, Aganis and Ric’k becoming the last standing. Suddenly the host ceased their attack and fell back to sit and watch for Kul’s command.

The Zabrak approached the pair, who had lost all premise of getting out alive. He gripped Aganis by his thin neck and lifted him bodily off the ground.

“You know what your mistake was, pirate? Thinking a mere lot like yourselves could actually take on the Force. A Sith needs no weapon when the creatures of the world will serve me.” With that, he crushed the Weequay’s throat and dropped him before turning to Ric’k.

“Do you wish to live, little pirate?”

Unsure if this was a trick, he cautiously nodded his head. Kul responded in kind.

“Good. With the death of your friend here, the leadership over the rest of your gang will be open. You will step into that vacuum with my patronage.”

A look of hope passed over Ric’k’s face.

“But I warn you. You will instruct your operations as I see fit. For one, this forest shall return to the natural flow. Tear down the fences and other disrupting electronics. After that, contact me through this.”

The Zabrak handed Ric’k a small comlink, etched with what appeared to be a tower or a crown made of sharp curves. Kul began to vanish again, his cloak crawling over him as he slowed its coverage.

“I look forward to seeing your progress, little pirate.”

And with that, he vanished completely the only sound of his retreat the shaking of some branches as he passed under them. The creatures around him disappeared into the forest as well.

Ric’k glanced at the comlink and then at the carnage around him. Grimacing he stared into Aganis’ cold, empty stare.

“I never did like you anyway.”

Manually added by Adept Marick Tyris