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.

Awrathakka. The center of a horrific past, an ominous presence seemed to linger in this storied settlement. These were the ghosts of history, wisps of suffering and lament conjured by visitors to this great wroshyr tree – at least, those who knew anything about what happened here, amidst the great canopies and Wookiee edifices.

Thanadd Mawgath knew something of this history, having been regaled in serious tones by the Sith handlers of Tarentum. “G5-623,” the Empire had called it, stripping the planet of its indigenous name the way it stripped the inhabitants of their autonomy. The native populations were shipped to labor camps, experimental medical facilities, or worse, unable to stem the Imperial tide until years later.

The Wookiees of Kashyyyk eventually seized their freedom, but even now, Awrathakka lay in ruins. High above the sinister flora and fauna, which pervaded the forest floor, Thanadd Mawgath skulked the abandoned networks of ligneous platforms and viaducts. Now, only the torrents and great wroshyr cared for the city, a lonely echo of Sheev Palpatine’s odious legacy.

Here, the Knight of Tarentum would shed more blood.

Scaling the coarse skin of the ancient tree, bark collapsing in vice-like grips, Mawgath could taste the darkness which lingered here. It stirred his bones, coursing through taught, fetid flesh and lending him what felt like power. His quarry no doubt enjoyed these invigorating forces, but the Pau’an suffered no fear. He was a warrior to his insidious core, a sinister blood lust calling him to meet his foe…

…and so he did.

Derek Cinn, he had been told, was a deadly champion in his own right – one which embraced the legacy of Darth Sidious himself. He was a threat to Mawgath’s ascendancy, an agent of a Sith cult which did not recognize the hegemony of Sith Bloodfyre and his ilk. Such entities could not be permitted to flourish, their dark ambitions a constant hazard to the grand scheme of the Clan of Life and Death. Capable enemies – those like Derek Cinn – needed to be squashed before their potential was fulfilled.

It fell to the line of Bloodfyre to strike the killing blow – one which would be an honor to deliver here, where the fist of Palpatine fell.

“CINN!” the mighty Pau’an bellowed, the hilt of his lightsaber an extension of lithe, cord-like arms.

“I have come for you, Sith,” he sneered, emphasizing the final syllable in a rare, begrudging token of respect. Even when murdering one of their own, the Sith Lords embraced a sense of honor.

The shadowy figure ahead sat folded, the bulk of a jetpack reflecting a peculiar shadow against a nearby hut, long condemned to the mercy of the elements. As he rose, Mawgath could just make out the tell-tale plates of clone trooper armor, the ovoid contours of the helmet reminiscent of Palpatine’s Stormtrooper legions. His eyes remained hidden as turned to face the Tarenti, clad in his own armor, an opaque visor concealing the properties of his visage.

The clambering Pau’an paused as his target stood to stature, little more than four and half feet tall from end to end. There was little time to make assumptions about where such a short being – likely an alien, from the looks of it – was able to procure such a compact suit of clone armor. Before the thought could be parsed, the creature inside removed the helmet…

…revealing the adolescent gaze of a teenager, no more than thirteen standard years old.

“WHAT IS THIS?!” Mawgath blustered, his blood rushing to the surface of his skin and coloring it a pallid violet.

The zealous harbinger of Tarentum had come to reap blood for tithing, yearning to draw each drop through glorious battle. How could a child bestow this bloody honour?

“You would not be my first, young one,” Mawgath growled, the mechanical timbre of his words menacing in their pitch.

“…but I have not come this far for you. I seek the one called Cinn, the would-be heir of Palpatine!”

The diminutive teenager flashed a wry smirk, as if a carnivore revealing the deadly promise of razor-sharp canines.

“Haven’t you heard? Size matters not!” he quipped, his puerile shrieking a grating cadence against the chaotic acoustics of Kashyyyk. He turned through the air with a deceptive aplomb, one which seemed to belong to a seasoned combatant instead of a child.

“Wha-“

Mawgath’s groan was interrupted by a flurry of blows, Cinn’s silver blade hissing and crashing against a crimson counterpart. A sequence of strikes and counter strikes carried the pair in a violent waltz, evenly matched and circling the putrefied platform.

The massive Pau'an chafed beneath his miscalculation. This was no mere boy, and he grunted against the relentless onslaught. Power met speed in congruent magnitudes, refusing to reveal a hint of weakness.

Neither combatant would hear the telltale creaking of the wood beneath their frenzied cries.

Finally recovering from the initial shock of fighting the young Sith, Mawgath met Derek’s silver blade and shoved it back, sending his opponent reeling. The young Knight composed himself in time to parry a flurry of attacks. The evil hiss and crackle of the blade seemed to reverberate in his helmet. Realizing his precarious proximity to the edge of the platform, he leaped up as his jetpack came to life. He drew out his pistol and began firing at the Pau’an who blocked the shots with ease, and glared at Derek, now landed softly back on the now groaning platform

The two froze, still staring at each other but focusing on the now thunderous sound of crunching and creaking. The platform began to shake ferociously and Derek suddenly felt light; the platform had finally reached its breaking point. The rotted beams fell away leaving the structure hanging limply for a second before it to snapped. Both Knights were now free falling towards the ground.

The two, after what seemed like an hour of falling, landed roughly on the ground. The bulk of the platform smashed onto the mossy forest floor, shattering violently between the two of them. The sudden silence was eerie, the only sound now was the cackling and whistling of distant birds. Derek finally charged toward the Pau’an spinning before meeting his opponent’s crimson blade. He swung back and dodged the heavy handed swing before slicing at Derek again.

His white blade glanced off Thanadd’s red blade. He could feel the unrestrained power behind the strike and knew he wouldn’t last unless he kept his opponent on the defensive. HIs silver blade whipped through the air swiftly; the red and silver sabers seemed to swirl together as they cracked and hissed on contact. As he attempted to strike once more, he flew back and slammed against a nearby tree with a dull thud. Chipped, mossy bark flew everywhere on impact.

He grunted as he slowly pushed himself up, igniting his lightsaber again and rolling immediately to his left as a red blade sliced the air where he was just kneeling. Focusing on the tall masked figure that loomed menacingly before him, lightning raced from his finger tips. The Pau’an Sith braced his lightsaber against the crackling blue energy, digging his heel into the damp ground. The air seemed to steam slightly as the lightning vanished. Cinn pulled out his blasters once again, firing shots in rapid succession as he blocked the shots, reeling from the lighting that still seemed to electrify the air.

Thanadd Mawgath rage seemed to sublimate from within his armor-tomb, steam rising in smoky plumes from Herculean paws. It was a potent illusion, and truly an intimation of the Pau'an's emotional state, the lightning-shocked troposhere moving drops of brackish dew into the humid sky above.

Having witnessed his opponent's treacherous command of the Force, the Tarenti pivoted quickly to close the distance, his prodigious height lending itself to the swift traversal of Kashyyyk's mulch-like surface. He advanced with a titanic stride as blaster bolts ricocheted from the edge of his lightsaber, leaden boots driving evidence of his might into the soil beneath.

"How long do you think you can avoid my grasp, child? You are exhausted, each heaving breath stolen from fate herself. Surrender now, and I promise you a swift END!"

The last word of Mawgath's grim imperative doubled as a terrific roar, granting strength to rage-loaded swings of the crimson blade. His maneuvers were brazen, relying on undying stamina and the eldritch puissance of the Dark Side to mete out supreme punishment.

Derek Cinn responded with a derisive snort, either undaunted or simply conserving his remaining energy in order to survive. He ducked and parried, delivering a blurred sequence of counterattacks meant to overwhelm the lumbering Pau'an. Each blow retained a savage verve, refusing to betray the undersized Sith's true bodily state...

...although Thanadd knew he had to be wearing down. Derek Cinn was pinned, his shoulders essentially tacked to the tree behind. His helmet, the Pau'an decided, would make a satisfactory trophy. He'd leave the skull inside.

The Tarenti's vicious slashes and swings could not seem to find their mark, and as his anger subsumed his senses, Thanadd did not notice that his persistent battery had begun to carve and whittle the mighty sapling. Young for its species, though no less immense, the battle threatened to truncate it's lifespan prematurely. It leaned with an ominous groan, casting a shadow over the quarreling Sith...

Both Knights could sense the looming tree behind them; It’s seemingly hollow creaking and groaning was evident but neither wished to give the other respite. The clashes of their sabers reverberated in the strained trunk of the tree next to them. Their blades locked for a moment before the two swung back in stock silence, the only sound now was the perilous groaning behind Derek.

With a quick glance at the weakened tree, lightning flew once more from his finger tips, striking the tree. With this final blow, It began to give in to the allure of gravity. The two Sith dodged the falling trunk as it land with a dull smack. Before the Palatinaean could react, a red blade appeared from the haze. Mawgath sliced through the mist.

With a near instant and swift movement, Derek threw a small canister towards the mechanized sith. The young Knight turned from the imminent blast as the ground quivered from the explosion. He stumbled up, His chest heaving with exhaustion. The smoke lingered in the air and it seemed to stay still. Derek removed his helmet and wiped away the sweat that drenched his face. However his rest was short lived. He snapped his head back toward the smoke that was finally blowing away.

He squinted his eyes and almost gasped. The dark shadow of Thanadd Mawgath was rising slowly.

“Impossible,” Derek whispered under his breath.

The figure straightened and a red lightsaber blade erupted from his left hand. Derek dropped his helmet and ignited his own saber again. The now burnt robes of the Pau’an were clearly visible as the smoke cleared. He looked menacingly at Derek who almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The metallic shine of cybernetics could be seen through the cuts and tears at Mawgaths clothes and skin.

“What are you?” Derek asked hoarsely

Mawgath didn’t reply but began walking threatingly toward the armored boy. Derek charged at the Sith, trying to ignore the numb feeling of exhaustion. The tall Taranti blocked the strikes with ease. He kicked the young boy in the shins and Derek fell to his knees, Too tired to even raise his saber.

“And so your life has come to and end, unfortunate for someone so young and powerful,” He said with a low looming voice.

With a quick slash of his saber, Derek’s body feel limply to the side, his severed head, rolled to the base of the fallen tree. Mawgath walked over to where Derek had dropped his helmet and bent over to pick it up. He studied it for a moment before walking away from the lifeless corpse of Derek Cinn, his new trophy tucked casually under his arm.