The towering redwoods were an imposing sight. Anselm walked through the woodlands, captivated even in the darkness. A lonely flame burned in his palm, lighting his way as he stepped over roots and brush. He couldn’t help the sad smile he wore as he remembered the stories his uncle used to tell him of his travels to places like this—places he never thought he’d get to visit or see. His father had no reason to send him to a jungle or forest, not when he was a thief, a mercenary…a tool. But his uncle…his uncle knew he could be more, that he could do more.
Now he was here on a forest moon, waltzing through the overgrown trees, looking for a fight. He’d heard stories of his next opponent, a former Fist of the Brotherhood, but he’d never met the Togorian. New as he was, gathering information on this Brotherhood was one of his primary goals because understanding the past and present leadership was important. Rajhin sounded like a warrior of honor, a warrior that Anselm could aspire to be like.
As he walked the forest, something caught his eye: a bush covered in a particular reddish leaf, and a white-petaled flower. The Human knelt to inspect the flower, a smile gracing his burned face while giving an amused chuckle. What he wouldn’t give to have his uncle here right now. The flower was a rare jasmine blossom, perfect to be mixed with a green tea leaf base. Bemused by the thoughts in his head, he picked the flower, harvesting the petals and drying them out with his held flame.
Taking the time to set up a small fire and boil water atop it, Anselm followed his uncle’s teachings. The man who helped raise him had always said, “There is nothing in this universe to bring together different men than a delicious jasmine brew.” Anselm never used to appreciate his uncle’s teachings, but now that he hadn’t seen the man in some time…he missed hearing his wisdom. As the tea steeped, crunching heavy footsteps approached from the south.
“I do look forward to our match, Rajhin Cindertail. But before we cross blades, would you join me for a cup of tea?” His voice carried through the trees, carrying no ill intent and masking no ulterior motive.
The Togarian was caught off guard by the greeting, but the seven-foot-three felliniesque male walked over steadily, looking around for any signs of deception before sitting across from Anselm. He watched as the Human poured the delicate brew into two cups before setting the pot down. The fire crackled and popped as the wood burned and broke amidst the flames.
“This was not what I’d expected when I searched out my opponent,” Rajhin said, looking into his cup of tea.
“I promise it isn’t poisoned. My uncle would never forgive me for using jasmine tea for such treachery. I merely thought we could talk before we beat each other into the ground."
Anselm held out his cup, a sign of respect to the former Fist. Rajhin picked up his own cup and copied the motion before they both drank the steaming hot liquid. Anselm didn’t seem to blink at the heat, and neither did Rajhin.
“I’ve heard of your exploits. A renowned guardian in the Grand Master’s Royal Guard, leading the Iron Navy against the invading Children of Mortis. Hell, you even led the Brotherhood’s forces against the enemy again in the Ethereal Realm. You’re a legend.”
Rajhin grunted as he sipped from his cup again. His amber eyes met Anselm’s violet ones. He noticed the reverence in Anselm’s tone as he spoke of his conquests.
“Did you forget in your veneration that I failed in that last battle? I nearly died, crushed beneath that damned rancor and skewered with the abhorrent crystals of our foes. I survived only due to the Jedi’s intervention.”
Anselm’s admiring gaze didn’t waver. “Win or lose, you fought bravely and kept your honor as a warrior. That is a feat I wish to emulate.” Anselm drank again, emptying his cup before refilling it, and offering more to the Togorian. “How do you do it?” he asked the older combatant.
“Do what?”
“How do you keep your honor? What drives you to be the warrior you are? I’m strong. I am powerful in the Force. I have seldom lost a real battle, and have killed more enemies for my father than I would care to admit. Through it all, I have struggled to keep myself…myself. How do you not lose what makes you…you?”
Rajhin thought as he drank, looking into Anselm’s intense stare. The Human's half-burned face glowed in the light of the fire. This was a man standing on the edge of a crucible, and the Fist couldn’t help but feel a need to guide him on his journey. If that meant kicking his ass in this tournament, then so be it. He sat up tall, and his voice began to grow louder, carrying his intensity with every word.
“I fight not for myself, but to protect those under my command. To protect those weaker than I. To give myself to my loyal brothers and sisters in arms, and so that those who cannot fight do not have to. To fight only for yourself or for selfish gain, this is the essence of dishonor!”
Anselm looked away. For so much of his life, he could admit he’d been just that: a selfish “Prince” who cared not for others as much as for looking for a way to free himself from his father's bidding. He’d never been the one to put himself in the line of fire, to be the bulwark between the enemy and his allies behind him. The only exception being that he would always protect his sister.
“I wish I was more like you, Rajhin Cindertail. I really do.” The Human thought back to his training. His life as a syndicate ruler's son. The people he’d had to hurt and the laws he’d had to abandon for his father's approval. He was tainted and unworthy of such valor. “I am not sure if I ever could be, though. For so long, I have longed for my freedom. Now that I have it, I don’t know that I could submit myself into bondage again.”
“It is not a chain to protect the weak. It is not a collar to fight for justice for others. It is not a cage to be amongst a family, found or by blood. And it is not slavery to fight for something bigger than oneself.” The Togorian finished the rest of his tea before standing to face his opponent. “We fight this day for individual glory, yes, but also to prove our worth against strong opponents, for our friends and companions. I will show you true strength, young Valreyes, and I will teach you what true honor in battle means!”
Anselm emptied his cup as well, and faced Rajhin. The Togorian was bigger, in mass and height. He was physically imposing against the backdrop of redwood trees; his tiger-like fur radiated against the fire’s glow. But Anselm wasn’t afraid. This was a test of his will and strength. A test he refused to fail.
“In the words of my uncle Tavian, 'Impossible odds are still only odds.’ I won’t be backing down this day.”
In the blink of an eye, Anselm disappeared and reappeared in front of the Rajhin, punching the Togorian hard in his well-muscled chest. The larger male didn’t budge. With a grin, he grasped the Human in his large hands and threw him hard towards the trunk of a tree. Anselm hit the bark, feeling pain lance through his back, and he dropped hard onto the ground, groaning as Rajhin approached faster than he expected.
“Such tricks are unbecoming of a true warrior. If your fists are unworthy, then perhaps they should be removed!”
As the Togorian towered over him, lifting his leg to stomp down on Anselm’s left hand, the Human rolled away and stood back up. Rajhin didn’t stop. Chaining his attacks with a primal aggression, he punched, swiped, and kicked at the Human continuously. Only Anselm’s own training kept him moving, trying to ignore the sharp pain in his back. He tried to counter the former Fist’s blows, but he was outclassed by his opponent’s superior strength. Narrowly dodging a blow to his chest, the Human watched Rajhin’s fist hit a tree instead, breaking through the wood with ease.
Frak, he thought to himself, I can’t let myself get hit by him.
His body wouldn’t hold up against the male’s vast strength. He also couldn’t use his fire without risking the forest burning down. Channeling the Force, he strengthened his legs and leapt back a greater distance than he’d normally be able to.
“You’re stronger than I anticipated. Shouldn’t have thought I’d compare. But let’s see how you manage this.”
Reaching his hand out, Anselm focused on Rajhin as he approached, and began increasing the pull of gravity on him. The Togorian began to slow and struggle as his body became heavier, finally being pulled to the ground. With a smile Anslem slowly approached, hoping to end the fight quickly. But he wasn't the only one who had that trick up their sleeve.
Rajhin fought through the amplified gravity and began an intense concentration of his own. Anselm felt his own body growing in heaviness, and dropped to his knees. Neither opponent relented, and both crashed hard onto the ground, fighting against the enhanced pull of gravity.
“TOOO-ROOOO!”
The sounds of blaring horns pulled them both from their concentration. No longer feeling the intense pressure of gravity, they stood up, looking around and listening.
“TOOO-ROOOO!”
From the depths of the woods, they could hear the sound of approaching footsteps. They were coming from all around them—on the forest floor, in the trees…and there were many of them.
“What the hell is that?” Anselm asked, slightly annoyed by the interruption to their fight.
“The planet’s locals are coming. They don’t sound happy.”
“Ewoks? Those little furballs?” Anselm looked less worried by the news than he should have been. “As if we should be afraid of those things.”
“You should ask the Imperials how afraid we should be,” Rajhin responded sarcastically before a soft thwip sounded as something thin sailed past him and lodged in a tree. The two combatants looked at the arrow that nearly skewered Rajhin.
“Well, shit.”
