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.

Unknown Regions

Aliso, Aliso System

The Pinnacle, Clan Plagueis’ HQ

Kneeling before his Dread Lord, Kul’tak kept his eyes facing the floor in subserviance.

”What is your command, Dread Lord?” He tried to mask the distaste he felt for referring to Selika as such, but he was certain she picked up on it to some extent. Though if she did she refrained from commenting on it. They both understood who was kneeling and who was sitting upon the throne.

”With the growing signs of conflict brewing within the Brotherhood, I have decided it would be prudent to gather intelligence about our enemies’ current strength. As such, we have a lead on a suitable candidate. A Nautolan from clan Scholae Palatinae. He is on the path to joining their inner circle of elders, but I would make him an offer he cannot refuse. Thus, you shall be my representation in this matter.”

Kul felt his teeth begin to grate, but he nodded nonetheless.

”Of course, Dread Lord, it would be my pleasure. I take it you want him dead, then?” At least he would get some excitement out of this mission.

Selika’s smile was evident in her tone when she responded.

”As much as I know you’d like to release your violent tendencies, like some rabid Akk dog, I would prefer it if you brought him to me here. Alive. If he refuses, however, then I can work with a broken body as long as his mind is still good.”

”I understand, Dread Lord. I will deliver him to you. How should I get him alone?”

The Dread Lord tapped a datapad resting on the right arm of her throne.

”It appears the Nautolan has made a name for himself within the underground spice markets in the past. I have acquired an old acquaintance he dealt with in order to lure him out. You will find them at these coordinates on the planet Kashyyk, as well as final orders.”

Kul rose to his feet as his own datapad accepted the packets of information transferred to him. He scanned the data briefly before putting it away again and placed his right arm across his chest in salute.

”As you wish. I will return shortly.”

Mid Rim

Kashyyk System

Abandoned Platform

Each of Tur-Yees three eyes watched the Nautolan closely as he approached, and he gave an internal sigh of relief that the amphibian had even chosen to show. After being captured during one of a few increasing strings of turf wars, the Gran had found himself at the mercy of a group of figures he had thought only rumors and legend. It had not taken them long to convince him to help them, specifically with information. The difficult part had been locating a contact he had not seen in years, and setting the meeting in a way he could not refuse. He glanced around the platforms searching for a sign that his replacement had arrived, but if they were here they certainly were not willing to show themselves just yet. Hopefully this setup would go smoothly and Tur-Yees could get out with his hide still intact.

The Nautolan climbed the stairs, his black eyes probing the Gran with caution. As he came to a stop before Yur-Tees he casually swept back his cloak and placed his right hand resting just above his lightsabers. Neither spoke for a moment, the only sound the creaking of the old platforms as they swayed dangerously loose in the breeze. The Nautolan was the one who finally broke the silence.

“So. You claimed to know some of my old Spicer contacts. How do I know this is true? I don’t recognize you from back then.”

The Gran tried to hide his nervous shake in his hands as he handed over a small datapad he had been given prior to coming here. This is where the real test began. If the Nautolan suspected even a little bit, it was possible he might bolt. Worst case scenario, he decided it was worth the security to take care of the loose end Tur-Yees was pretending to be. The Gran felt a small trickle of sweat run down one side of his face. He sure hoped the data was convincing.

Raiju glanced over the information scrolling across the screen of the datapad. There were names he recognized, mostly contacts he had dealt with briefly, but something about the list gave him a bad feeling. The claim that this Gran had made--that there were some large plays about to be made and they wanted his expertise--seemed all too coincidental with the looming rumors of an offensive against Pravus and his regime.

The Nautolan raised his head, opening his mouth to voice a concern. However, the being before him was not the Gran, but a Zabrak. The Gran was now lying face down in a growing pool of his own blood.

The Zabrak bore a curved ryyk blade, its metal drenched in the Gran’s blood, and used his free hand to trace a swirling pattern before flicking the blood away. His voice came out in a low growl from beneath his dark hood.

“Gran blood is so…sticky”

Raiju lowered his hand closer to his sabers as a wave of clarity washed away any lingering doubts he may have had.

“It was a trap then. Let me guess, you’re some kind of assassin sent by...whom exactly?”

Kul'tak slipped the ryyk blade back into the sling on his back and dragged the Gran to the edge of the platform. With a firm kick he sent the corpse careening to the forest floor, some hundred feet below. As he made his way closer to Raiju, he bore a smug grin on his face.

“No witnesses. You understand, yes? He served his initial purpose of getting you here. As for who sent me, it’s of little concern since you’ll meet them soon enough. In fact, my Lord has a proposal for you. If you come quietly, I can guarantee you’ll only be knocked unconscious for the trip there. Refuse, and I have permission to let you entertain me for awhile...”

The assassin cracked the knuckles of his right hand.

“...And honestly I prefer it when they fight back. It gets tiresome cutting down flying bugs and unruly slaves. Though the rumor is that war is brewing. I look forward to that.”

War? Is it possible he’s from the Brotherhood? And he mentioned a ‘Lord,’ so possibly sent by another clan.

While sorting through potential enemies who’d want to kill him, the Nautolan armed himself his sabers and ignited their respective orange and red blades.

“I don’t know who sent you, assassin, but I’m afraid I’m about to make your day.”

The Zabrak presented an amused smile, but refrained from arming himself even though he had shown an affinity for bladed weapons. It was highly possible he had some tricks up his sleeve. Caution then would be important. Slowly, the Nautolan began to approach Kul, staying in a defensive stance as he did so.

Kul was done waiting. With a push from his left leg he launched himself towards the Nautolan, who swung his sabers around to intercept. When there was but a meter between them, Kul threw his center downward, placing his hands to the ground and spinning his weight. He then kicked out with his boot and drove it into Raiju’s chest, stopping the momentum of his sabers. The Nautolan fell back as his body absorbed the blow, but he managed to keep from falling on his rear.

So the assassin wants to play dirty, does he? Well, two can play at that game.

The thought had barely raced through Raiju’s mind as the Nautolan gritted his teeth in annoyance; his upper lip twitching as he fought making a snarl. Action would be his response, despite his desire to mock the Zabrak for giving up positioning on the platform and putting himself between the Battlelord and the edge. What an idiot...

Cross swiping at the ground in a sloppily wild manner, Raiju’s sabers plunged into the planks beneath their feet and quickly slashed an arm’s length scar in front of the Nautolan. Much like a hot knife carving through a stick of nerf butter, the orange and crimson blades easily passed through the wroshyr wood planks and left a trail of glowing embers and faint smoke. Immediately after the blades had come together in front Raiju, he leapt to his right to quickly slash again in a similar manner but this was quickly interrupted as the Zabrak started towards the left side of the trenching. Leaping back, and quickly trotting back in front of the would-be assassin, the Battlelord stretch his crimson blade out to block the Zabrak’s path and keep him behind the line the Nautolan had drawn in the...wood.

Meeting his fellow combatant’s eyes, Raiju felt his wannabe snarl transfer into a smirk; right after he slashed his orange blade again to further extend the line.

Below them, a howl of protest from the planks echoed out as their creaking grew into the sound of splintering wood. An expression of panic seemed bloomed in the Zabrak’s face as the platform beneath him slightly dropped and what rails remained on this part of the platform rattled from the shake that was created. When the Zabrak went to dart further to the left, and thereby getting ever closer to the edge, Raiju again leapt sideways and blocked the exit with his crimson blade.

This time, the Nautolan paused before he slashed.

“Now would be a good time to start talking....” The words had a playfulness to them as the Battlelord’s smirk grew into a grin. Yet, after a few tense moments of silence as even the wood below them grew mute as it settled, Raiju carved his orange blade into the wroshyr wood again and extended the line right to the end this time.

The same cracking of wood rang from the platform and echoed off the trunks in the distance. Yet, disappointedly for Raiju, the Zabrak didn’t drop this time - just sunk a bit more, and causing the wood rails behind the assassin to stop rattling again from the platform’s sway. Likely, he had missed one of the support beams on the far right side. What a pain...

Yet, luck would have it that this time the Zabrak tried to dodge towards that end this time, yet; once again held at bay by the threat of Raiju’s blade. To the assassin’s credit, it wasn’t like he was too slow for the Battlelord; it’s just hard to move on a bouncing platform that could collapse at any minute from shifting your weight. However, even Raiju knew both were pressing their luck. Raiju only had one more play for the end game, and the Zabrak likely knew it was now or never to risk it for the biscuit. An edge returned to Raiju’s voice.

“It’s now or never, nerfherder.” Raiju proclaimed with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “Speak, or pray the fall kills you. Because, between you and me, you don’t want to survive hitting the jungle floor and seeing what wants to make a snack out of you…”

Again, the Zabrak seemed to pretend he had lost his tongue and Raiju resigned himself to the fact this was a dead end for information. Looking the assassin over one more time as he readied himself to cut loose, Raiju only stayed his hand when he happened to notice the emblem on the Zabrak’s belt buckle….and a hearty laugh followed loud enough to fill the jungle tops. Changing the direction of his orange blade from aiming at the planks below, Raiju quickly pointed its tip towards the buckle.

“Someone needs to give you a history lesson, hornhead.” Raiju proclaimed as he continued laughing. “Because then you would know; you’ve been set up.”