Kah Manet
8343
Liar Liar, Pants on Fire
The inky black of night embraced the trees of the forest, a soft whisper of wind tickling the necks of the group that sat around the glowing flames of their campfire. The team of younglings gazed upon their leader, a grizzled Gungan that had vanished but returned to the ranks of the light, and they listened in awe as he regaled them with stories. Some had taken sticks and were roasting treats on the fire to assemble tasty snacks, while others were enamored with what their older friend was saying.
“Havesa youin’ heard of da tale of de Pantsless one?” asked Kah.
The younglings looked amongst themselves and they shook their heads, having heard that the Gungan usually only told stories with lessons in them. Had the jawa juice he had been sipping made him stray from that path? The younglings hoped so.
“Not so long ago, mesa had heard dissin’ tale. The Dark Brotherhood’s Masta at Ahms, Howlader, was inna battle againstin’ a boombad dat wasa his equal in every way. The two clashed for what seemed like hours, neida givin’ da odda an inch in da battle. Saber clashed saber, powers crashed against powers, and it seemin’ as though de immovable object had met it’s unstoppable force.”
Kah sipped from his canteen for a moment and wiped his bill, capping it back up and leaning forward. He gazed into the youngling’s eyes and smiled.
“But, as wesa knows, Howie’s mind is far from da steel trap it used to be. And, as dis opponent knew, the Mastah at Ahms was finally feeling de kiss of fatigue. His enemy didin’ a lunge fohwahd, and with a powerful strike caused Howlader ta stumble backward. An insidious chortle rattled from da throat of his enemy, the sound slithering into Howlader’s elderly ears. Howie’s enemy lunged again and struck, and den struck again. And den he spoke,
“‘Whassa madda Sith?’ asked da hooded figure, his azure blade bearing down on da crimson saber of da Mastah at Ahms. Howie glared, and replied wit venom ‘Nothing.’ and the insidious chortle came forth once more, and da enemy snapped his fingers once. ‘Liar, liar...pants on fire.’ And when da words left his mouth, Howie looked down and gazed upon hisa legs and saw dat his pants had burst into flames.”
With those last words, Kah began to pantomime patting out invisible flames and
continued to explain to the younglings how Howie’s fatigue allowed his mind to slip and his defense dropped enough to allow illusions to spring forth like bats from a cave. He then leaned back, took a sip from his canteen once more, and then ended the story. He explained how Howlader, with a new found fury from being fooled, lifted his hand and released a torrent of dark energy that wracked the opponent’s body with electricity. Howlader had been playing possum, to test his opponent and had grown tired of their duel.
“Da result of dat battle was dat Howlader, ta ensure dat dat particular trick could never be played onna himsa again, decided hesa would never wear pants again. Some tink hesa be crazy, others tink his refusal to wearin’ his pants be a tad much, but yousa have ta admit dat it be effective.” said Kah, “So, whaddya tink da lesson here is?”
“Always prepare for the unexpected?”
“Good thought but nosah.” said Kah, taking another swig from his canteen.
“Try and lull your opponent into an overconfidence so they’ll make an error?”
“Again, good but nuh uh.” said Kah, again drinking from his canteen, enjoying the bitterness of the alcohol in it. It wasn’t often he allowed himself to partake in this particular vice.
“Remove a weakness to not have it be exploited?” asked a youngling.
“In a way, yessah, but in truth da lesson be dat sometime, da crazy works.” replied Kah with a boisterous laugh.
The younglings nodded and looked at each other, exchanging glances to one another that clearly said “This is what Odan-Urr considers a good chaperone?”