The Lost Caverns
Outer Rim Territories
...“Are you sure we’re going the right way?”
Grot whipped his head around and sneered at his Human accomplice. Without halting their pace, he pointed a clawed finger at the small ravine that carried water down into the heart of the mountain.
“Yeah, I know, we’ve been following this ‘trail’ of your for hours. I thought your kind were supposed to be experts at hunting.”
“I thought your kind were supposed to be intelligent lifeforms,” Grot hissed his retort. “And yet...”
They stopped to glower at one another. To the much smaller Human's credit, Kordall did not so much as blink or balk as he stared right back up at the grizzly, towering Trandoshan. To be fair, the scrawny scoundrel had been pretty handy with those blasters he carried with him. He also seemed to be keeping up with the grueling pace that Grot had set. That was something, at least.
“It is not just the water,” Grot explained as his tongue flickered from his mouth with a reptilian lisp. “The air is still warm, but getting more moist, which means we are getting closer to to wherever the stream empties into. That’s where we find the prey.”
“Yeah, and according to the SAS, the artifact that we’re supposed to be retrieving is supposed to be in a shrine somewhere near an underground body of water. Do you think this is the right cavern? This would be the third planet we tried.”
Grot paused to consider the notion of being wrong in his deductions. He shook his head. No, he was not mistaken. They were getting closer. The Human just needed to be a bit more patient. So—in a simple gesture he had learned to placate most dimwitted soft-skins—Grot offered his water canteen to Vance as a token of peace so that they could continue forward.
Vance Kordall scratched at the side of his neck as he studied the canteen. His face scrunched up into a disgusted scowl, almost as if the very concept of being offered water was some kind of grave insult. He slung the canteen's strap over one shoulder and instead reached into his vest pocket to pull out a small, intricate looking flask. He thumbed the cap off and took a long, slow swig, before exhaling slowly. The freelancer fell in line behind the contracted Arconan, but Grot could not tell if the Human had adapted a drunken sway to his steps or a confident swagger with his strides. Perhaps it was both. Time would tell.
Within the Technocratic Guild, the Shikari Huntresses were hard to tell apart from one another. Their tan skin and identical yellow facial tattoos were shadowed by their equally long dreadlocks, but Kendra Icasta knew them all by their respective code-numbers thanks to her cybernetic eye that could overlay data in an augmented reality view.
“The Trandosian we’ve been following came this way,” Seven said, removing her hand from the ground.
Kendra scrunched her rounded, lightly freckled nose. “Smells like one, mixed with...brandy?”
“He’s traveling with another,” Seven continued. “Human male, lean, armed with two blaster pistols.” She paused and then added, “Yes, he was definitely carrying a flask.”
Kendra had always admired the Kiffar’s ability for what they called Psychometry. While she herself could not rely on some inherent mystic ability, Icasta had been trained to track down those that others had deemed untraceable. The Chiss woman had proven herself, time and again, and rose to her current station through blood and dedication to her craft. That was before Nancora, however, and her failure to apprehend the Dark Jedi Elder known as Dacien Victae. She had been humiliated, and to make matters worse, he now sat on the very Dark Council that defied the Collective their goal.
So Kendra did the same thing she always did whenever she failed—she drank and indulged in her base desires. Her depression lead her descending into a dark, downward spiral. It had taken a firm hand by a good friend that she did not deserve to finally shake her out of it. Kerwin Drake was a good man, and somehow found the strength to keep fighting despite the losses suffered on Nancora. Again, as she always did when she hit rock bottom, Kendra Icasta picked herself back up and reported for duty.
That was why she had been sent to this remote planet. This was her punishment. She would reclaim her honor and repair her wounded pride. She was the Huntress.
Written by: Marick Tyris
This will be the final chapter before the start of the Right of Supremacy (RoS). The goal with this fiction was to set up the events of the launch fiction, and to help motivate the fictional objectives that will be incorporated into the Week 1 Fiction Competitions. As I mentioned previously, this update will also be relevant for trivia style competition I will be running with Seraphol. So, even though I know it’s a lot of pages, please try and read the fiction. Thanks :).
Thank you for reading the update. That’s going to be it from me for a while. Vyr will be your guide as we embark together on this upcoming Vendetta.
If you are curious about what to look out for in the RoS, see my previous report. Otherwise? Good luck.
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