While considered only a moon of Trandosha, that is hardly the defining trait of Wasskah. The jungle moon is instead best known as a game preserve used for hunting sentient beings. Its surface contains islands with sandy beaches and thorn-filled forests. It is primarily the jungle that will be seen by those who have been brought there against their will. However, with enough effort, one might escape to an island.

Beneath the jungle canopy, Wasskah is alive with the sounds of convorees, momongs, and other local fauna. Lush, green plants and vines cover the trees and hide the muddy ground beneath foliage. It is hard to find true daylight through the thick growth, but it is not impossible to come across bright rays of light.

While any sign of technology is nearly non-existent, some hunting nests remain to be discovered by the more tenacious of those trapped there. There isn't enough tech for a scavenger, but in a fight for survival every little bit counts. And every corner hides a potential threat.

You awaken at night in an open cage to a humid and vibrant jungle island filled with exotic flora. Any memory of how you got to this situation comes up blank, and the constellations in the skies say nothing as to where you are in the galaxy. However, a mark painted on your cage reveals a vaguely familiar emblem. The memory is fuzzy, but you recall recognizing the symbol as a crest for the Trandoshan Game Hunters: a league that kidnaps worthy prey to hunt for sport. You are now the next target of the hunt, and by the looks of the identical cages nearby, you are not the only one playing in the Trandoshans' most dangerous game.

Island 4 Wasskah, Moon of Trandosha Hector Von Ricmore

Blurry surroundings slowly resolved in clarity as the Son of Vizsla opened his eyes. The Clawdite looked around, gauging the unfamiliar surroundings. Truthfully, he had no idea where he was; or, for that matter, what planet he was on. The vegetation surrounding him was spiked, split into a mix of green flora and tall rocklike spires.

A moment of reflection allowed Hector to admit to himself that perhaps having a practically unlimited access to alcohol was not always for the best. His challenge coin payed for all drinks in Vizsla space and his compatriots loved a good party. Maybe he drank too much, maybe someone slipped something into his drink that not even the Force could metabolize. Regardless, he had found himself in a bizarre situation.

In his immediate vicinity was a cage door that had been left open. Surrounding him were the bars and metal making up the cage.

Why was he in a cage? And why had it been left open?

Hector pushed off the ground and climbed to his feet. He made his way to the exit of the cage. As he stepped outside, a strange symbol caught his eye. One that he was unfortunately all too familiar with.

As a bounty hunter, reputation was an important part of the job. It could be both positive and negative in nature, but it was important to cultivate it all the same. Some individuals gave bounty hunting a bad name; a number of them being the more notorious Trandoshans, those who acted as slavers and war criminals. The symbol engraved on the cage belonged to a group of Trandoshans, the Game Hunters.

Great. Just great. Being hunted like a trophy animal is just what he wanted to do today.

At least he had his lightsaber to deal with any pesky Trandoshans he came across. He reached down to grab the hilt, but his hand only touched empty air.

Oh.

Oh no.

A quick search of his body revealed several things. First, thankfully, he still had his clothes and cloak. But that was all he had. All his weapons, equipment, accessories, and technology had been taken from his person. The overgrown lizards had even taken the mini Force Cage trap he kept in a hidden pocket. How infuriatingly thorough of them.

Well there was no helping it now. He needed to find a way off this rock or a method to contact The Brotherhood. It was time to face the horrors of the jungle.

It wasn’t long before he ran into trouble. To be more accurate, trouble found him.

A young looking Trandoshan strolled out of the foliage. He made no attempt at stealth, a confident swagger in his step. He brandished a pair of dual hunting daggers, which he expertly twirled around his hands.

Hector didn’t have time for this. He had to recover his equipment and find a way out of wherever he was. To do this, he had to conserve his energy; to not use the Force frivolously. In this situation, using the energy was unavoidable. But he could be efficient.

Calling upon his genetic ability to shapeshift, the Clawdite retracted the fingernails on his left hand, using the extra mass to extend the fingernails on his right hand. With a surge of effort he reached out with the Force, grasping his foe and yanking him towards him. Unable to move and caught by surprise, the hunter sailed through the air; directly into the path of Hector’s now outstretched hand. The extended fingernails pierced the creature’s throat, the impact from the pull driving the nails deep. The Clawdite withdrew his nails, sending his foe gurgling to the jungle floor.

Hector considered himself lucky that his first foe had been inexperienced. Likely a Trandoshan coming of age and looking to prove himself. The Clawdite wasn’t well versed in hand to hand combat. But against a single foe he could take advantage of the power of the Force; replicating the principle of the ‘Draw Closer’ technique of the Niman lightsaber form, but utilizing other piercing weapons in place of a lightsaber. He wiped the blood from his nails on the body of his foe and allowed his nails to retract. Next time, it may not be so easy.

He took a moment to relieve the body of its weapons, grasping the twin daggers with his hands. He was no expert with bladed weapons but a weapon was better than no weapon at this moment.

Rising to his feet he felt a shiver crawl up his spine and an impending sense of danger. The Clawdite hurled himself bodily to the side. A blaster bolt whizzed past and slammed into one of the nearby rocklike spires.

Hector pressed his face into the dirt along the forest floor, staying low and dragging his body towards the nearest spire. He propped himself beside it and reached out into the Force, seeking to find his assailant. Strangely, he could feel two life signs nearby, both radiating hostile aggression. Moments later, one of the signatures faded entirely.

Were the Trandoshans turning on one another?

Daring to investigate the incident, the Force user raised his dirt and sand encrusted face to look out into the jungle. He saw a single humanoid garbed in wrapped clothing, leaning over the body of a Trandoshan. The figure inspected the blaster sniper rifle that the Trandoshan had carried and gave a satisfied nod.

Hector walked up the being, holding his hands up to appear nonthreatening.

“Looks like I’m not the only one trapped here. Name’s Hector Von Ricmore. Who would you happen to be?”

He snapped the procured sniper rifle to point the scope at the motion of Hector's approach. After a good look, the rifle was lowered to the low and ready.

"I have become prey, just like you," he said.

"Okay," Hector lowered his hands but still kept them spread, "Do you know how you got here?"

"I became too civilized, too soft. Slowed my survival reflex and got caught off guard," he answered with a grimacing tone.

"I gave you my name, stranger, would you give me yours?" Hector asked with a stern tone in his own voice.

The man stared him down for a moment but then nodded slowly, "I-i am called Creon." He then moved the cloth wrapped around his face to reveal himself. "Could we talk later? "We need to keep moving."

The two then marched in silence and with patience. They kept at an approximate 50 meter distance and used hand and arm signals to communicate. When they happened upon a grove, Creon stopped to climb a tree.

Hector was confused, but watched Creon with curiosity gather nearby twigs and sticks around the tree.

What is he doing?

When Creon had enough of a bundle he tossed it and climbed down to the ground.

"What are you doing?" Hector asked.

"Making camouflage, "Creon replied and removed his shirt. "Can I borrow one of those knives you have there?"

Hector nodded and handed over one of the daggers. Creon then used it to poke holes in his shirt and the rest of his clothes to weave in the gathered foliage.

"They'll expect us to gather near a river," Hector brought up

When Creon was done with his makeshift ghillie suit, he walked over to where there was mud and covered himself until a sound caused him to pause.

"You hear that?" He asked.

Hector listened, but heard nothing of note. Yet he felt in his senses through Force no warning or signature apart from the indigenous fauna.

Creon retrieved the rifle and dropped to a kneeling position and looked upward down the rifle's scope.

"Just some monkeys..." Creon gruffed.

Hector recalled meeting a Tandoshsn bounty hunter who had a monkey-like creature once. It was cute but fast, and the hunter fed it meat.

"We should move. They are dangerously aggressive and carnivorous."

"Well... If we run, they'll chase us. If we fight..."

"We'll draw in too much attention," Hector finished.

Creon looked to him and nodded.

"Then we have an opportunity," Hector smiled fiendishly.

"Oh?" Creon checked down the scope again.

"Instead of getting hunted on their terms, we can pull their attention to here and ambush."

Creon looked up with a surprised look and nodded in affirmation, "We'll need a trap. Otherwise we'll have to split up and resort to guerilla tactics, and I feel they're prepared for that."

Hector grinned with a menacing twinkle in his eye, "Let's start a fire!"

"The grass is too wet," Creon argued.

"Not the leaves up top near the treeline."

Creon raised a brow in agitated confusion, "Well I hope you can pull that off! These monkeys are moving with a purpose! I'm going to start firing."

Hector nodded and looked up at the treeline. He reached out with a hand outstretched towards the head of a tree and called upon the Force. Within the mind's eye the instinctive thoughts of volition that bloomed into a blazing light. An oscillation from his mind stretched towards his intended target like a wave and sparked a sudden combustion around a collection of leaves.

Creon took a shot and then cursed at himself for missing. The fired bolt made an echo throughout the forest. He forgot that the scope was adjusted for it's previous owner, and so his aim was off. He adjusted by aiming a bit to the top right and was able to hit his mark the second time. The momongs screeched in terror and fury from one of their own dropping dead. Their aggression and momentum grew, moving in sporadic patterns that made hitting them more difficult.

Embers soon unraveled and spread from one tree to the next, extending it's reach in an arc between them and the momongs. The momongs shrieked in fear and dispersed into obscurity. Smoke began to rise into the skies above.

Creon looked at Hector with wonder. He saw Hector gesture the flames with his hand as if it were a brush the fire follkwed.

"You can control fire!?" Creon blurted.

"Yes!, Hector laughed. "I can direct it how I please. It bends to my will!"

Creon around for a vantage point he could climb. He expected patrolling Trandoshans to arrive soon to inspect the smoke. He called out to Hector, pointed at a tree, and then climbed it.

Hector watched and then nodded in understanding whilst continuing to somatically guide the flames. When Creon positioned himself at the top of the tree he searched the skies with one eye down the rifle scope.

The hum of a hover skiff was eventually heard on approach. Approaching the ever rising smoke was a Trandoshan on a MSP80 Pyeropter.

"We might need to land. I can't see anything past the treeline," one trandoshan called out to the driver in it's native tongue.

"They wouldn't have stayed here. The fire is spreading south, so we will search the north!" The driver yelled back. They switched to a panic after the underside of the vessel sunddently took at hit from a stray bolt. It shook the skiff, rocking the passengers as the driver attempted to stabilize the vehicle. Another round then hit the back thruster, causing an inevitable spiral towards the ground.

Creon made decisive jumps in climbing down. When he reached the ground he waved over to Hector and shouted "Northeast! 200 meters!" He then bolted into the forest with an alarming speed.

There was a presence in the Dark Side emanating from Creon before he left; the residue of malicious intent, like a hunger...

Hector followed, leaving the forest fire to survive on its own. Halfway through, however, he lost sight of Creon. Hector called his name.

A surge from within activated Hector's adrenale gland, and to his perspective the motion in time seemed to slow. Fear rose his rate. Instinct urged him to move. His attention suddenly zoned in on a preemptive bolt that flew to almost graze his shoulder. From where it came a Trandoshan with a pistol was seen falling dead from another blaster bolt that came in from the left. Hector turned and saw Creon, who seemingly appeared from nowhere. Hector didn't even sense his presence nearby.

Creon held a thumbs up and smiled, only to yell from a bolt to his back and collapse to the ground. From further beyond Creon behind a tree was another Trandoshan firing with a side arm. Hector reached out and telekinetically gripping the Trandoshan by the throat. He shook the body like a rag doll and then hurtled it at a large stone. Blood and brain matter splattered on the rock and rest of its body dropped lifelessly to the ground.

Hector felt another presence nearby. There were many, and growing...

"Monkeys," Hector hissed before rushing over to help Creon.

The carterized burn on the upper back plate looked awful, but wasn't too deep to go through like some higher calibers. Hector lifted Creon with a fireman's carry and looked around in trying to decide on what direction to take next.