When you are traversing the wild and untouched landscapes of the savannah, just remind yourself that you are never the apex predator. The vast and desolate area of sand, rocks, dead and ancient trees are all the same blood-orange color for a simple reason: to hide your worst nightmare from your sight, the Akul. A large, quadrupedal and orange furred mammal, the Akul are the top predators that hunt all sorts of bovine, dog, hooved and giant mammals. Using their extraordinary sense of smell, they can trace your scent from days long past and track you down without mercy.

Throughout the Savannah, tall and wispy Turu-grass stretches out into long ranging fields. Watering holes are sparse and spread thin, and the terrain offers little safety from the blazing sun that hangs overhead. When the sun retreats and gives way to moonlight, the Savannah becomes almost chill, but the night is dark and full of wild creatures. In the Savannah, it’s hunt or be hunted.

A light breeze pushed the long red and white grass. The life which inhabited the grasses exchanged various calls with each other when the hot breeze calmed. Near the closest tree for miles a tall, portly man covered by a cloak held out the two leads to an advanced scanner.

Commander Len Iode had been sent to Shili to speak with the Togruta about any rumors regarding the current situation of the Dark Brotherhood. The Togruta were well known to be friendly and their potential for having overheard anything was too good to pass up. So far though, the Chiss had been unsuccessful. However, this had changed when a contact had told him hunting party leader may know something. Now he was wandering the savannahs looking for the hunter and no luck.

Changing another setting, the Commander noticed a single large humanoid approaching from the southwest. He put his scanner down and withdrew his quadnoculars from their storage case, visually scanning the vast grasslands. On his third pass, something caught his eye. Centering the movement, the quadnoculars' tracking software activated, following the movement briefly before stopping. Slowly, Len reached to his side and grabbed his scout blaster. Finally the creature revealed itself, a full grown akul. The creature stopped and rode back on its haunches, coiling itself to launch directly at the portly man. Len dropped the quadnoculars, placing both hands on his blaster to line up the shot.

The grass, it’s not moving correctly.

Len closed his eyes and focused. Quickly he opened his eyes, the akul was gone without a trace. A slight crunch of dirt and grass brought the Chiss to high alert.

The soldier began looking around his hide. “Who is there?”

Suddenly a tall man, taller than the Commander, charged seemingly from nowhere with a katana in his grasp. Len sprinted out of the way as the man swung precisely where the soldier’s neck had been a moment ago. Getting a bead on the man, Len fired of three shots trying to create some distance between him and his opponent. As he was getting a bead for the next shot, the Chiss recognized the face of Legorii Arconae.

The Anzet mocked his opponent. “Couldn’t just stare at the animal could you? Of course not, you have to make killing you more difficult!”

“What do you want with me?” the confused Commander replied, trying his best to keep his distance from the sword bearing opponent. “I have done nothing against Arcona! You’re our ally.”

“The Shadow Lady and her Summit may support you for now, but for the long term we must cast you aside.” The Krath sprinted towards the soldier, closing the gap and taking another swift swing at his opponent’s arm, the tip of the sword just missing.

Dreamrender trimmed turu-grass like a scythe, but Turel’s toy soldier managed to avoid each slash. Len Iode’s ruby gaze met Legorii’s own. Red eyes seeing red. For his part, the Chiss seemed a bit bewildered to be under attack in the vast savannahs of Shili. Legorii found that amusing, because everyone is always under attack in the savannahs of Shili. The akul get all the hype, but there were plenty of ways to die among the tall grasses.

Len squeezed off shots from his blaster pistol where possible, but he was never able to get a clean shot. The blaster pistol was ill-suited to the sort of close-quarters combat that the Arconan had chosen for their skirmish, but the Chiss persisted. Preoccupied with ducking and dodging each cut, Len wasn’t able to line up a shot, but he was able to keep his opponent weaving in and out of the grass. Perhaps he was thinking only of outlasting the Dark Jedi.

“You’re a long way from home,” Legorii spat, sidestepping an errant blaster bolt and thrusting his katana through a tuft of grass toward Len’s bulging gut. “What brings you to the killing fields, soldier?”

Len was agile for someone as stocky as he was, but sweat was accumulating quickly on his brow. Legorii’s reflexes were well-honed, his quads and hamstrings still fresh enough to keep him from the path of the shrieking blaster bolts aimed at him with varying degrees of accuracy.

“Odan-Urr’s business,” Len replied through gritted teeth, “is its own.” His breathing was already labored. With his free hand, he slipped a vibrodagger from his belt. Legorii grinned. The first few tepid slashes with the knife were enough to ensure him that his heart would not be cut from his chest. Not today, at least.

“Do alliances,” Len continued, pausing for a sharp intake of breath as he slashed in Legorii’s direction and fired another errant shot, “mean nothing to you?” The Chiss glanced from side to side, scanning the grasses for some advantage. Something. Anything. He was pulled back into the present as a low slice from the Arconan’s katana nicked his thigh, tearing fabric and drawing a thin line of blood. Len winced.

Legorii chuckled, a dry rasp that originated deep in his stomach and rumbled from his throat. He stepped back, allowing himself and his opponent a brief moment of respite. He grounded the tip of his katana in the dirt. “Alliance? With Jedi? There will never be an alliance, not while the Arconae draw breath. Even now, Atyiru’s disciples are paying the price for their disloyalty.” The Arconan’s eyes flashed, a flicker of rage that hinted at something deeper. The divisions within the Clan were significant, plunging the Citadel into a state of perpetual chaos.

The Chiss was silent. Surely he understood that without Arcona’s support, Odan-Urr would fall. Even if Pravus were truly missing, the Iron Throne would bring its errant children to heel. It would simply take time. But Len Iode would not be around to see it. Legorii returned his katana to its sheath. Len stood ten meters away, his sweaty blue palm wrapped around his pistol. An honorable combatant would have waited patiently for Legorii to sheath his blade and draw a weapon. But Len was no honorable combatant.

He raised the blaster pistol, steadied himself for a half-second, and pulled the trigger. A blaster bolt leapt from the barrel of the gun. Legorii’s synapses flared as the Force jolted him to attention, but the bolt still clipped his left shoulder. Pain shot through his arm. For a moment, the Anzat was dumbfounded. He’d expected more of a Jedi. Then, as Len pulled the trigger again, he dove into the grasses.

“Blast it!” Len muttered under his breath, concealing himself in the abundant turu-grass. The wounded Chiss knew he was bound to be hacked to bits at close range and had no long range weapon; his opponent had all the advantages. It was time to cut his losses and retreat.

The sound of brush being crushed behind him filled his ears. As the sound closed in, Len dropped and rolled onto his back, taking aim. It was then that he realized his stalker was not Legorii, but rather a small herbivore with large ears and hind legs. Lowering his weapon, Len breathed a sigh of relief. Slowly getting to his feet, the soldier winced again from the cut in his leg. The Chiss attempted to take a step forward, but found himself lifted off the ground. Instinctively, the Commander tried his best to move himself towards the ground. However, there was no breaking the hold.

“Jedi, always running when there is a fight to be had.” Legorii emerged from his hiding place and stepped closer to the Chiss. The wound on the Anzat’s shoulder had begun to heal, but wasn’t far along.

“I am not equipped to fight a proper battle.” Len’s mind was racing through options to break free.

“‘Proper battle’?” the Warlord laughed deeply as he passed the Commander stuck in mid-air. “In a ‘Proper Battle’ one would not shoot an unarmed opponent.”

Legorii’s green lightsaber blade snapped to life. “How about I return the favor?”

The Anzat smoothly turned on his heel, directing the contained green plasma towards Len’s right shoulder. A soft hiss indicated the saber’s contact with Len’s work clothes as the saber hovered a few millimeters above his skin.

Legorii grinned. “Normally I’d ask if you were afraid, but you’re just a pawn in a game bigger than you’ll ever know.”

Len had been shot before, and had caught shock waves from explosions, but nothing prepared him for this. At first his arm felt numb, but as long as his fingers were still there he could fight the telekinetic hold. Then the searing heat and pain set in. The Chiss fought the urge to cry out, but the pain was too great.

“AHHHH!”

Glancing at his shoulder, Len saw the saber was being held precisely as far as his blaster shot had been. Legorii deactivated the saber and began to draw his katana, watching the blade. As he did, Len noticed what was binding him had loosened considerably.

Exhaustion. Now is your chance.

Len raised his arm, but it was too late. The Warlord let a sigh escape. “Like I said, no respect for the blade or the study of it.”

The Krath drew Dreamrender back. The Odanite dropped to the ground, squeezing the trigger as many times as he could as the black blade fluidly sliced through the air. The Chiss screamed as the cold steel bit into his arm, a numbing sensation already spreading through his body. Len dropped his blaster and grabbed his left arm with his off hand, blood pouring from the wound. Most of the weapon specialist’s shots had hit. The Arconae was on the ground, writhing in pain. Both combatants were in desperate need of medical attention.

Keying his SeNet comlink, Len did his best to keep it together.

“Red Eye to Command. I need emergency extraction, myself plus one prisoner,” He could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness. “Just hurry.”

As the portly man collapsed onto the ground, he heard a low growl emanating from behind him.

Hurry up…

Temporarily shielded by the towering grass, Legorii unslung his BlasTech A280 rifle. Grimacing, he glanced at the burnt, exposed flesh of his left shoulder.

“You’re a coward,” he called to Len. Crouching in the grasses, he knew that Len was less than two dozen meters away. He could feel him nearby. “I had no idea how far Turel’s standards had fallen.”

The Chiss made no response, so Legorii tried again. “I’ll teach you how to use a blaster, you blue bastard.” He fired a few shots in the direction that Len had last been. The heavy bolts cut a swath of the grass.

Legorii hated fighting mundane military men like Len Iode. They were boring. They were beneath him. Nothing resembling a challenge ever came out of these fights. Once, he’d been given dignified assignments. He was one of the most powerful leaders in the most powerful Clan. But he scarcely recognized Arcona now. He busied himself with tasks like this one, traveling to remote and dangerous planets as a sort of investigator-at-large. The truth was, nobody really knew for sure what was happening. Something dynamic, in all likelihood.

Another blaster bolt blitzed past him. If he didn’t know better, he’d have guessed that Len’s aim was improving. Refocusing, Legorii began to stalk his prey with a practiced efficiency not dissimilar to that of the akul. His crimson eyes searched for the blue-hued skin. Len’s protruding stomach would be a dead giveaway. As seconds stretched into minutes, the Arconan began to wonder whether another of Shili’s hunters would find the man first.

Then Len burst forth. His blaster pistol began spraying bolts indiscriminately. Legorii dove at the man’s feet. Anzati and Chiss limbs collided. The Arconan drove his shoulder hard in his opponent’s shin, sending both tumbling to the dirt. To Legorii’s ire, the air was forced from his lungs as the stocky Chiss landed on top of him.

For a moment, they wrestled in the dirt. Len’s vibrodagger was still in his off-hand, and he stabbed clumsily with it. Legorii kept the blade at bay with ease. He dropped his rifle and grabbed Len’s wrist. The Dark Side frothed within him, lending an iron quality to his grip. Breathing heavily from the exertion, the Anzat managed to free the dagger from his opponent’s hand. Len attempted to swing his pistol around and into Legorii’s gut, but the latter managed to deflect the barrel of the weapon with his forearm.

Snatching Len’s fallen vibrodagger from the dirt, Legorii pressed its point against his opponent’s throat. The rotund Chiss froze. A grin spread across the Anzat’s features.

“Drop the blaster,” he ordered. After a brief moment’s hesitation, Len complied. The two men locked stares.

Again, the Arconan spoke. “I hate fighting you people. It’s never a challenge, but there’s no reward. No upside. I’d drink your soup, but it’s bland.” He seemed to be musing aloud, entirely unconcerned with whether Len was listening or not. Legorii heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I do like to make these executions theatrical. Any, uh...what’s that they say? Last words?”

Len Iode, defiant to the end, glared fiercely at him. “In Odan-Urr, we know honor. That word means nothing to you, Arconan.” He spat the last word like a curse.

Legorii barked a short laugh. “Honor? Your Consul knows nothing of honor. But if there’s honor in dying by your own blade in the blood-soaked dirt of Shili, of no use to anyone, then so be it. Die.” He slashed Len’s throat with the vibrodagger, opening his trachea and exposing it to the sky.

A light wind rustled the grass as Legorii stood and left Len Iode’s corpse for the scavengers.