A Fistful of Mud

[Zazai Ta'Resh]

Ord Radama​

It had been just under a week since Jenova had approached him on Korriban. They had spent the next days preparing themselves for the coming trials. The tension from their encounter had been relieved for the time being, but it still loomed in the background. It had not been easy on the Sith to rid of himself of the Darkside. Over a hundred generations, the dark side of the Force had shaped his people, become a part of it, and now he had sought to fight against it.

They arrived at the camp early in the day, even in the early hours this place was nearly unbearable. Zazai was used to the hot arid climate of Korriban, but this swampland was instead hot and extremely humid. His discomfort was added to by having to wear a mask that hid nearly all of his face, long black sleeves, and a hood to ensure it was it overly apparent he was of the Sith Race.

The camp was sparse, it was quite obvious that they would not be spending their time in comfort here. He was used to that at least, but this heat. He shot Jenova a disapproving glance as they entered the camp, some of their fellow participants having already arrived. They were instructed to find a tent and await further instructions.

Zazai swatted the biggest mosquito he had ever seen from his neck.

"This had better be worth it." he murmured only loud enough so Jenova would hear as they searched for open tents.

 

[Jenova Savas]

Jenova spared her shrouded companion but a fleeting glance; she smiled, attempting to reassure him, but for now she remained focused on the trek ahead of her. The swamp lands were difficult to navigate, and the humid and insects certainly didn't help either. The earth beneath her feet was spongy and water logged, cushioning each of her measured step. Already the hybrid was making mental preparations; if this was the kind of terrain they'd be competing on, her mobility would be hindered. It would take some time to adapt, time she would likely not have. In the tournament that was to follow, only the fastest, the strongest would survive and proceed ahead.

To add to the situation, there was variety amongst their contenders; Echani, Zabraks, even a stray Gungan and Wookie; Jenova swore she could also hear the distinctive hiss of a Trandoshan. Deadly rivals, indeed. And each one of these aliens were likely just as determined as they were, just as hungry. Though visually impaired, Jenova knew eyes were tracking their approach to camp; the settlement's inhabitants were probably sizing up the new arrivals, perhaps hoping to gleam some insight into their capabilities.

Much like Zazai, the emerald hybrid had ditched her usual attire. Her garbs were simple; loosely fitted for easy movement. They would hide her lean figure, though not her Amazonian height. Still, nothing could compare to the Sith's hulking frame. In fact, she hoped their competitors would misjudge her appearance, perhaps even more foolish underestimations. They may predict her ability and acrobatics, but not her explosive strength. Jenova would endeavour to use this to her advantage.

But for now, she kept her demeanour calm and aloof, merely patting's Zazai's shoulder in assurance, "Calm yourself, my friend. We shall both prosper from this experience. I can assure you."

Though practice had mellowed Jenova's blazing aura, the fires in her eyes had yet to fade. This would indeed prove to be a challenge. They had to utterly detach themselves from the dark side, or mask it at least, so to avoid suspicion. The Matukai were not fools, not blind dithering mystics; they were masters of the force, well within their own right. Why else would they attract such a gathering? From the mere foot traffic, Jenova wagered there was at least fifty combatants in the camp alone. By the end of today, only a small percentage would remain.

"The tournament will likely begin soon," She murmured, more to herself than Zazai. They found a vacant tent and Jenova dumped her small satchel of essentials. Whilst not completely knowledgeable of the selection process, the hybrid had a good idea of how things would transpire. Shuffling under the tent's cover, she motioned for Zazai to near. "Likely we will be paired off, fighting opponents until warriors can no longer compete. A Matukai, perhaps even an elder, will over see the tournament. We must be mindful of this..." She spoke in hushed tones, fully aware keen ears may be listening.

Whilst not encouraged, cheating was an unfortunate reality.

 

[Zazai Ta'Resh]

He raised in eyebrow instinctively underneath his mask, even though the gesture was likely lost. He would not be patronized. He almost said something back, igniting his annoyance into the all familiar flame inside of him. He sighed and let it go, content to be miserable for the time being.

Everything felt muted to him as he denied himself the Force. His limbs moved a touch more sluggish as the traversed the muddy terrain. He would, of course, need to use the Force in their coming battles but for now, it was best to be as careful as possible.

Mere feet away from their tent, he stepped through the ground into a mud hole, sinking up to his shin. He let out a string of curses, almost losing control but stifled it as he pulled his leg free with a good bit of effort. He shot Jenova a look, even with his mask the look was clear not to try him here.

He heard snickering behind him. Zazai spun to see a Gungan and a human woman giggling as they looked in his direction. They quickly looked away, still shaking somewhat with laughter. Zazai's hand clenched, the wrappings he had used on his hands making a straining noise as they stretched.

If there was any justice in the world, he would get a chance to pummel that Gungan into the mud but for now, he turned back to towards the tent and stepped inside behind Jenova. As she explained what she thought would happen next, he tossed his bag on the ground and used as a pillow as he lay down. He paid attention to her somewhat as she spoke, but most of his effort went into stifling the anger that threatened to boil up.

 

[Jenova Savas]

Jenova understood Zazai's frustration. Truthfully, she was asking much from him and she knew that; the Sith had an inherited affinity for the dark side. Generations of breeding had ensured that. Whilst her emersion into the dark side had only begun to manifest, Zazai's had been perfected over centuries. Essentially, Jenova was asking him to go against his very nature, the embedded instincts of his ancestors. This was more than 'difficult' for him. It was like collaring a tuk'ata and expecting domesticity. An unrealistic prospect.

So, in the privacy of the tent, the hybrid's hand came to rest on his cheek. But her hand stilled for a moment, still unaccustomed to the cloth that covered a good portion of his face, "Zazai...I know this is not easy for you. And nothing I say will make this better." She sighed, frustrated with her own limitations. "But I promise you, this will be worth it."

The humidity created a sheen of sweat on her viridescent skin; stray stands of hair clung to the contours of her cheek and neck. The heat was unbearable. For a moment, Jenova thought of discarding one of her outer layers. But she decided against it, knowing full well Zazai would not be able to share the luxury. If he had to suffer discomfort then she would resign herself to the same.

Instead, Jenova moved to sit in a reflective posture. She closed her eyes, trying to centre herself. She hadn't perfected her force sight by any means but she had worked on extending it. Perhaps she might be able to gain an advantage over their competitors. With slow steady breaths, Jenova reached out through the force. Each wave acted like a sonar, washing over sentients in nearby tents. Some of their auras blazed, exposing their innate force ability. Others were dim, barely worth acknowledging. So far, none compared for Zazai's flame. That was a comforting notion, or it would have been. The dark side fuelled the Sith, empowered him, Now he had to mute himself. Would that curb his advantage? Time would tell.

The Amazon continued her 'surveillance', noting particular auras of interest. One stood out in particular. From the perception of horns, Jenova assumed it was an Iktotchi. The male may prove problematic, given his species' ability with precognition, as well as their telepathic prowess.

Jenova would find out the hard way; though she tried to mask her activity, the Iktotichi was skilled. He sent out a psychic wave, one that lashed out directly at Jenova. With no mental defences readied, she felt the full brunt of the force hit her. Gasping, she tumbled back, holding the side of her face. Her eyes were scrunched tight, evidently in pain. Then, a trickle of blood dripped from her nose.

"Damn horn headed-" she descended into a long lists of curses. Clenching her fist, she stood, ready to confront the alien in the next couple of tents over.

But a volley of drums sounded in the air. Signifying the start of the tournament.

 

[Zazai Ta'Resh]

He stopped as she ran a hand along the cloth of his mask. It was an oddly comforting gesture coming from the woman who was certainly not the comforting type. The gesture did little to still him, in fact, he felt his heart rate quicken a bit at her touch. He forced that down quickly and lay down casually on the tent floor. He would endure this, he had endured worse and if their competition was any indication of the knowledge they sought there was a good chance this would very much be worth it.

He watched as she sat in a meditative stance as he tried to relax further. Several minutes passed before Jenova recoiled as she had been slapped across the face. A stream of curses erupted from her as a small trickle of green blood trickled from her nose. He took no pleasure in her pain, but a small smile cracked on his face. This was the Jenova he knew, feeling her presence in the Force flare.

Still laying down he reached a hand, grabbing at her calf. "It will be worth it." he said only half mockingly, give the leg muscle a playful squeeze. They didn't have time to see if she would be able to stop herself, as the drums began to sound on the other side of camp.

He pushed himself up, standing behind Jenova. He placed a hand on her back leaning in close. "We should probably both play nice with the others until...you know" he spoke quietly before stepping back out the tent.

Everyone was making their way towards the sound of the drums, seemingly coming from the middle of the camp. Zazai shot an icy stare at the Gungan from earlier as they walked past. Soon they came to a muddy arena with seats surrounding the pit. An old man with a gray beard stood on a platform nearby. This was where everyone was gathering.

 

[Jenova Savas]

Jenova hissed under her breath, her narrowed eyes glaring at Zazai. The irony of his words weren't necessarily lost on her, but his humour was. Still, as much as she hated it, he was right. Combat before the tournament was prohibited; any grievances would have to wait until then. If there was any justice, she'd face the Iktotichi then. He might have drawn first blood, but Jenova would be the one mounting his horns as a trophy. She would be merciless.

Jenova sniffed at the Sith, crossing her arms in irritation. "I don't play nice. I play rough. You of all people should know that..." She let the words hang in the air, a small smirk finally replacing her scowl. Wiping the blood away, she readied herself, following Zazai out of the tent.

Following the migration of competitors, Jenova tried to hide her growing concerns. The terrain was become slick and hazardous; speed and strength was a delicate balance, and it relied heavily on stability. She would need to step with caution. But she would not be the only one. Already, she could hear other combatants making tentative steps and checks; perhaps this was the Matukai's intent all along; try and put everyone at a disadvantage and see how they adapt. Jenova wouldn't put it pass the martial sect.

The rough, gravel voiced elder began to speak, addressing the congregation, "Warriors, the force has brought you here." He took a moment, his beady eyes surveying those before him, "Some of you seek glory. Others seek thrills. You will find no such thing with the Matukai. We are a tribe, a community dedicated to the pursuit of perfection. The force and fist are one." His withered hand clenched, emphasising his statement. Despite his sage like appearance, the force soon swirled within his grasp, at a tremendous rate. Clearly, the old man was trying to make a point. "If you are selected after today's trials, know this; you shall be broken. Repeatedly. Who you were before this is irrelevant. From this day forth, you shall be made new, strengthened and empowered. With our guidance, you shall achieve feats you would never have even dreamed of. That is of course...if you survive this tournament."

The elder than directed their attention to an unassuming basket. "Inside are the paired names of every competitor here. Teams will be paired off with opponents; the rules of simple. No weapons shall be tolerated. Use of the force, however, is acceptable. When opponents are no longer able to proceed with the fight, the drum shall sound, signifying its end. Any strikes after this will be seen as unfavourable."

Jenova listened attentively to the old man; more than likely, she and Zazai will be paired together, seeing as they entered with one another. If they were smart, they could play off each other's strengths, and compensate any shortcomings. The real challenge would be restraining themselves, relying on the force, not the dark side. They had only a week to prepare themselves for this endeavour, not exactly a wealth of time. Their best bet was to dispatch their opponents quickly, not prolonging the combative encounter -as much as she disliked the idea-. Confrontation was a natural occurrence; it was a fundamental pillar of evolution. And more than anything, it was something Jenova relished. But for now, she would have to restrain herself, least she succumb to temptation of bloodshed.

The first set of names were called out, with the rest of the warriors asked to be seated around the pit. The first set of names called out were a set of Zabraks, brothers perhaps. The species were quite notorious, given their single minded determination and physical prowess. Their opponents were an odd pair; a Dug and Gran. The latter were clearly disadvantaged, showing no cohesion or teamwork against the horn headed pair. The fight was soon over, with victory -unsurprisingly- going to the brothers. Throughout the whole event, Jenova watched silently. It was surreal, being the one spectating for a change. This set up was eerily similar to the fighting pits, though there was a lack of jeering and shouts. Still, tension rose in Jenova's shoulders with memories resurfacing in the back of her mind.

 

[Zazai Ta'Resh]

Zazai listened as the old man spoke. The others seemed to hang on every word he said, but the Sith found it difficult to be excited. They would go as far as receiving training, learning this Orders secret before returning back to the service of the Empire.

They sat as the first of the matches began. Still in discomfort, Zazai did his best to relax as the pairs fought one another. He could sense the tension in Jenova, see her shoulders tighten as she shifted. She needed no comforting, she was a warrior, the only comfort she needed would be out there in the pit.

They waited through several more matches. Zazai took note of several of the more skilled looking fighters as they watched. Then their names were called along with two humans. Both the men walked in stride with one another. He glanced at Jenova, giving the woman a slight nod as they stepped to their side of the pit. Zazai tested his range of movement as he stretched his arms.

He felt the song call to him, but didn't answer it. He would need to do this alone.

The match began and Zazai moved towards the man on their right. He moved slowly in the thick mud to maintain his balance but once five feet away he lunged, throwing a punch at the man's chest. The man dodged out of the way, struggling to find his footing in the slick mud. He managed to recover throwing a punch of his own aimed at the Sith's ribs. The blow didn't have much power behind it but it forced Zazai back for the time being.

 

[Jenova Savas]

Jenova shot to her feet, anticipation having bubbled beneath the surface of her composure. She flashed Zazai a grin, the ebbing flame starting to spark once more. Somehow, she restrained herself. The hybrid had learnt her lesson from prior her experience; charging headlong into conflict was not always wise. Especially in this environment. Against her fiery nature, Jenova paced herself, testing her footing and resistance in the thick mud. The ground was slick, slippery even. It would make her acrobatics hard to land. But perhaps she could use this to her advantage.

When the Sith moved in on his opponent, Jenova did the same. As best as she could, she dashed across the pit, using the force to aid her as the distance decreased dramatically. The Human readied himself, preparing for a frontal assault. But Jenova would surface him, folding to her knees and skidding between the human's wide legged stance. It was an unusual tactic, one that took the human by surprise, especially even Jenova's intimidating height. But the hybrid latched her arms around the human's torso and with one mighty lift, heaved him backwards in one fluid motion. Her back arched, displaying her innate flexibility; the human slammed into the ground, head first. There was a sickening crack, but the wet mud ensured there was no life threatening damage immediately done. Instead, Jenova rounded on the male, her hand shooting out to cast a wave of force energy. The male was flung back, smacking against the high walls of the pit. He seemed dazed but admirable still conscious.

The amazon, glanced over her shoulder, curious as to Zazai's progress. She debated rounding on the second male, utilizing a pincer ambush manoeuvre. Yet, knowing the Sith, he would wish to deal with his opponent on his own terms. Offering aid might insult him.

So, Jenova focused once more on her adversary, allowing him to stagger to his feet. She felt like a nexu toying with its prey; a cattish grin reflected that demeanour as once more the hybrid stalked forward.

​

 

[Zazai Ta'Resh]

He grabbed for his opponent, but the man squirmed out his grasp due the mud that was already coating everything. The man danced away, spinning as he kicked at Zazai's stomach. The blow caught him, force the air from his lungs.

Pain surged as he felt a rib give way slightly. It was too much, he hadn't had enough time training to ignore the primal rage that coursed through him.

He let out a growl as he surged forward, the Force now guiding his movement, his world snapping into focus. He blocked the man's next attacked before landing a solid punch on the man's face, blood shooting from his nose. The man rocked backward, but Zazai didn't stop.

He punched again.

and again.

and again.

The man far too dazed to defend himself before the man could fall to the ground, Zazai gripped the man's head, bringing his knee up as he slammed him downwards. He felt the bones shatter in the man's face as he released him.

 

[Jenova Savas]

Jenova steps halted for a moment, just as a familiar wave washed over her. Anger. Rage. It thickened the air, infecting the very atmosphere itself. On the battlefield, Jenova would have welcomed such sensations, knowing full well Zazai was the source of such decadence. But now was neither the time, nor the place; it could very well ruin their entire operation. The Sith would have to centre himself, regain control. And fast, least suspicions begin to fester.

The green skinned hellion moved to stop the brutal barrage her companion was dishing out. Already, the crowd of spectators were murmuring, their expressions betraying their concerns. Such things weren't necessarily a disadvantage; it would make their future opponents wary, anxious even. But the Matukai elder, the one watching over the entire proceeding, he was now gazing at Zazai with a look of reservation. It was evident in the force that the dark side's presence was starting to manifest; any further and the Sith might very well unleash it's full potential.

Vexed by the turn of events, Jenova directed her annoyance at the persistent human, now clumsily standing in her peripheral vision. She no longer wished to play with him; instead, she beckoned him to come at her, almost mocking him with such brazen bait. The fool took it, staggeringly charging at her with little thought as to what she may do in response. When the human stepped within range, Jenova spun on the ball of her foot, swinging her leg out to deliver a swift kick to the male's head. The blow struck true, strengthened by the force. The human went sailing across the pit, with a rather impressive spin. Like a skipping stone, he bounced not once but twice across the muddy ground before finally sliding to a limp stop. Though unconscious, the human still twitched, the nerves within his body still reeling from the blow.

Jenova didn't savour the victory. Sludging her way through the muck and mud, she advanced on her hulking partner. "Zazai..." She muttered, placing her hand firmly on his shoulder, "Enough." She kept her words below a hiss, unwilling to show the crowd any weakness in their partnership. It was quite ironic really, considering the pair's first meeting together was so reserved; Zazai was the one cautioning restraint, halting Jenova's blinded aggression. Now it was the hybrid trying to temper the Sith.

​

 

[Zazai Ta'Resh]

A firm grip landed on his shoulder. He only barely heard the woman's hiss, the blood still rushing in his ears.

The man collapsed down the ground, blood covered Zazai. He wanted to revel in the song he had deprived himself for the week but part of him knew if he did, he would surely be thrown out. it may already be too late. He took in a breath, letting go of the anger in him. Why did he have to hide his power, it made little sense to him at that moment. He already had power, he was already a weapon.

The crowd was silent, staring at them. Some learned to their respective partners, whispering about them. Several Mutakai warriors stepped into the arena and picked up the two unconscious men. Zazai sloshed his way through the mud and towards the arena exit.

He looked to the Elder one last time, locking eyes with him for several seconds before exiting. They were told by one of the Mutukai warriors that they had been dismissed for the day and that they should return to their tents. Part of Zazai wondered if that was because what happened, but then he remembered he hadn't seen the other victors return either.

He walked back to the tent, refusing to meet Jenova's gaze. She had asked him to be something he doubted he could be, and it had likely just cost her the opportunity to train with these warriors.

He stepped into the tent and waited until it had been closed behind him before he ripped off the mask, frustrated at his lack of control. He unwrapped the wrappings that covered his hands and arms.

"What do you think will happen?" he asked Jenova, turning to face her.

 

[Jenova Savas]

Jenova followed Zazai out of the pit, trying to school the tension in her expression. The situation was temperate at best; competitors were wary, the Matukai possibly suspicious and -perhaps worse- her companion was feeling frustrated. Possibly at the situation, or even at himself. She couldn't help but feel responsible for this uncompromising situation; perhaps this whole ordeal had been a mistake. Nagging doubt was slowly starting to crawl up her spine. Were they now targets? Would the Matukai discover their allegiance? What would the sect do with them? Should they worry about Jedi?

So many questions. Too many variables.

Still, the hybrid tried to remain calm. She ruffled her hair once or twice, battling the back the growing apprehension in her gut whilst watching Zazai pace; she allowed him space to vent if needed. There was no judgement in her expression, no disappointment or annoyance. Just self reflection, self preserving calculation. Already, Jenova was trying to rectify the situation.
She took a moment, considering the implications of their current circumstances; whilst the Sith's actions had been brutal, they weren't wholly shocking for the tournament's nature. Quite possibly, they were simply overreacting. "Nothing; the tournament will continue."

She stood before Zazai, her gaze distant in thought as she tried to explain her reasoning. "Anger. Rage. Aggression. These are consequences of conflict, they're to be expected in combat. The Matukai know this; they won't penalise us for it." True. Zazai had relied on his darker emotions but he hadn't openly exposed his ties to the dark side. They may be able to recover their guise.

Her head turned towards the direction of the pits. Another fight had started; a resounding roar signified it was the pair of Wookies dominating the fight this round. They were fearsome creatures, primal and animalistic. It was no surprise they would win this round. "Besides, there will be others with far more-" A agonising scream ran out, no doubt an unfortunate victim had just been robbed of one of their limbs. Jenova cantered a brow, looking back at Zazai. "-savage tendencies. Your display will soon be forgotten"

Moving towards the mouth of the tent, Jenova watched and waited. A degree of relief washed over her when she spied the pair of Wookies entering the campsite not too long after. It had confirmed their assumption that returning to the tents was usual procedure for victors. There was nothing to suggest they were in any danger. For now at least.

Utilizing this time alone, the amazon turned her focused back once more on her red skinned companion. She gazed at him, eyes still shimmering like a celestial sun. She looked on him with unveiled fondness; there was no malice or disgust. Only respect and possible concern. "I understand, Zazai. I have asked a great deal of you, perhaps without truly considering the hardships of this task." She cupped his angular cheeks in the palm of her hands, savouring the exposed skin once again. She then kissed him, hard on the lips, an impulsive gesture that she had so far resisted acting on. But he had been magnificent in that pit. An unstoppable force of nature, bearing down on his helpless opponent. Each bloody punch was like a hot knife piercing her gut. Just thinking about it made her blood quicken. Yet she quickly tried to tame herself, shaking herself free of the lustful hazy. Instead, she faced, seriousness bleeding into her virago like features. "If you wish to leave, I will think no less of you."

She was offering him a way out; a chance for him to make a conscious choice. She would not use guilt or manipulation to gain her way. She honoured Zazai too much as a warrior to use such underhanded tactics; ultimately, his decision would decide their next course of action.

​

 

[Zazai Ta'Resh]

The sounds of next rounds of fighting sounded as Jenova spoke. He was still agitated with himself, but he listened. There was wisdom in her words. He hadn’t actually done anything outwardly tiring him to his past with the Force and had certainly stayed in the parameters of the contest.


He had given a bit of their tactical advantage over their opponents. They could have shown half the skill and still beat the two men handily, but they had shown the others they were a threat. At the very least it had been stupid of him. He thought about the elder, he seemed to see through Zazai when he looked at him, the memory of the gaze sending a chill up his spine.

She turned back towards him, satisfied at what she had found outside. As the tent closed she approached him, taking his face in her hands and pulling him into a kiss. He returned the kiss with the same vigor, hands moving to her waist, lifting her slightly. The lingering adrenaline of the fight coupled with the bond they had shared urged him to continue but she pulled away, face growing more serious as she stepped back.


“I came here in search of the same thing you seek and I will not stop until we have it.” He said placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. He noticed the tightness in the muscles and the knots that had formed there. “I will not let you down.” He said looking into her eyes.


He moved around behind her, hands moving to her shoulders. He knew the straining muscles hadn’t been from the fight. They had easily won, the fight last only seconds. He knew getting them into this tournament had taken no small amount energy and know that they were here, the slightest misstep would get them thrown out. It surely was stressful, especially with Zazai who has as subtle as a drunk bantha.


They would both need to be at their best for the fights tomorrow and strained muscles would weaken them. A life spent days filled with backbreaking labor, Zazai had learned from his childhood how to ease the strain on muscles. It was often the only comfort they were given.


He rubbed at her shoulders, thumbs digging in as he coaxed the knotted muscles to relax. “What do you think of our competition? Anyone stick out?” He asked more casually as he slid his hands down to her upper back, continuing his work.

 

[Jenova Savas]

Relief washed over Jenova; though she'd try continue with this assignment alone, she felt more at ease with Zazai accompanying her. He was a competent warrior with tremendous potential, even if he was quick to dismiss it himself. Even legends start with humble beginnings.

The hybrid groaned, her head lolling back in utter bliss. The bunched muscles under Zazai's thumbs soon surrendered; the tension bled away, pushed out bit by bit by the Sith's touch. For such a hulking figure, he had a surprising touch. Jenova was practically melting against him, mewing and humming in apparent appreciation. Who would have thought he possessed such a talent? She couldn't help but smile to herself. Very little surprised Jenova anymore, yet Zazai always managed to revealing something intriguing about him. She couldn't help but wonder where he learnt such a skill wrong? After harsh days of fighting in the pits, Jenova would just lay in her dug out, muscles sore and strained. Some nights she couldn't even move, the stiffness being so fierce.

She was so laxed, she almost missed his question. "Those Zabraks; they're quite proficient in martial combat, but their affinity with the force is weak. That being said, Wookies are always problematic." Her eyes fluttered closed, partially out of pleasure, as she continued her trail of thought. "There was a Iktotchi; their species have a natural affinity with the force, particularly with visions. Same goes for the Miraluka, I sensed some of them."

A fraction of tension returned to Jenova's shoulders. She had no love for Miraluka, despite her own hereditary ties to the species. Miraluka were notorious bigots; hybrid offsprings -whilst rare- were often looked down upon. To make matters worse, Miraluka were a painful reminder of Jenova's mother. Miraluka were meant to be thoughtful, cautious, and deliberative species. They weren't meant to have interest in personal gain or glory; Jenova's mother was the complete opposite. She was a shrewd, conniving courtesan, one who berated Jenova throughout her entire childhood; when she fell out of favour with her Falleen lover, she vented daily, rowing and ranting until the day she died.

Shaking her head, banishing those thoughts, Jenova returned to focusing on the tournament. "What about you? Anyone we should keep an eye out for?"

Truthfully, the hybrid was confident in their chances. Most of the warriors present were self taught, lacking formal training in applying the force. They may have martial prowess but not a combination of the two. Both Zazai and Jenova had physical strength and stature, as well as strong force affinity; if they worked together, they could be formidable.

​

 

[Zazai Ta'Resh]

The muscles gave way as they talked, Jenova releasing the stress they had endured to get to this point. She went silent for a moment, obviously distracted by something troubling. He slowed, trying to read her but not pressing for information. If she wanted him to know she would tell him.

She seemed to pull herself from where her mind had gone. "Hrrm.." he rumbled. He had agreed with her assessment of the combatants, which wasn't surprising. They both were no strangers to battlefields and had plenty of experience quickly assessing opponents. They had been given the luxury of actually sitting and watching them fight which was rare. His hands moved to her lower back, fingers continuing to dig into her muscles.

"The two Echani twins. They sat at the other end of the pit." he finally replied. "The rest seemed like nothing to worry about." he said. He really hoped the Gungan made it to the next day. He would pay a smile pile of credits to get the chance to rip his tongue out of his throat.

He wondered how many they would take. It had been unclear. Zazai would settle for nothing less than defeating all of their opponents. It was the only way to ensure they continued on.

He stepped back, moving to his bedroll. He would continue to practice his suppression of the dark side. He slowly lowered himself down to his knees. This type of meditation was different than the kind he was used to. He used to focusing on his pain, his anger until they became tools for him to draw power on. Now, he focused on emptying his mind, throwing out what he would have called upon a week ago.

 

[Jenova Savas]

Echani. How has she missed that pair? Jenova was very familiar with the alabaster humanoids. Echani culture held the belief that to know one fully, you must fight them. To the Echani, fighting was not only self-defence, but it was also a form of self-expression, a means of communication similar to art. Watching them fight was quite a performance; it was no wonder they'd also be attracted to the Matukai sect. No doubt the pair would be determined to succeed. Excitement coursed through Jenova's veins; she hoped they'd get an opportunity to face the twins soon. More than likely, they'd be the top contending opponents. Wookies could be out smarted and Zabraks bested with skill. But the Echani? They were not ones to be easily underestimated.

The absence of Zazai's warm hands made Jenova frown; she was rather enjoying herself. But he was her companion, not a service droid. She heard as he settled on his bedroll; now was the ideal time to rest and recover, begin preparing themselves for tomorrow's tournaments. Yet Jenova was too eager. She decided to stretch her legs instead. She gave Zazai's shoulder a squeeze as she moved to leave,

"I will search for food. If I don't return...avenge me."

It was an attempt at humour, her grin was evidence at that. Ensuring none could garner view inside their tent, Jenova stepped out into the camp. It was moderately quiet for now; only a few competitors had returned so far. The amazon followed her nose, sniffing the air in an attempt to find provisions. There was some sort of stew brewing nearby. Not the most appetizing morsel, but enough fill the stomach.

Stalking through the camp, Jenova collected two bowels of the meaty broth. She was casual in her movements, but guarded. There was someone watching, eyes tracking her progress. She wondered, would they be bold enough to approach her?

​

 

[Zazai Ta'Resh]

"I will tell the tale of your heroic quest if you should fail to return." he said opening an eye and grinning at her as she disappeared outside.

Once he was alone, he tried once again the access the Force without tapping into his emotions. He felt it, but it was blurry, distorted, like looking through a dirty window. It was frustrating which caused him to have to start over, clearing his mind of his frustration. It was an infuriating cycle. It wasn't as if there was anyone to turn in the Order that could have helped them with this, they were blind, fumbling around in the dark.

*****

As Jenova walked through the camp, there were many eyes on her, most not friendly. She would surely sense the open hostility towards her as she walked.

The two twins moved towards her, lacking the hostile intent of the other fighters. They moved casually and in sync with one another. Two men, appearing to be in their mid-twenties. Both had flawless pale skin and long white hair, the one man had a short beard of the same color which was essentially the only thing that distinguished the two. Beyond their soft complexion was the muscle and tone that could only be achieved through a lifetime of training.

"Hello there, friend." the first man said, his voice was light and carried an almost musical tone to it. "Impressive show out there." the brother spoke, smiling as they picked up bowls as well. "Very Impressive..." the beardedman added. There words flowed together if someone wasn't paying attention or looking at them, it was possible they could confuse it as coming from the same person.

 

[Jenova Savas]

The camp was strangely different to the fighting pits; whilst combat was a fundamental feature of the tournament, there was no cut throat hostility and predatory scheming. It was soon dawning on Jenova that this was truly a gathering of warriors; despite the present undercurrent of tension, there was still a sense of respect, perhaps even admiration. Again, it highlighted to the amazon the distinct difference between fighters and martial artists. Though there was some variation, there was always a degree of principle, personal codes of honour governing the conduct of each fighter. Perhaps that's why the twin Echani approached Jenova. And truthfully, she wasn't openly hostile. She had always appreciated the Echani fighting form, rare as it was in the pits. Only recently has the hybrid began to study the actual philosophy of the pale species. A personal exchange was tempting, especially as they approached her first.

Still, she was cautious, nodding to the pair with humble reservation. "Gratitude."

The encounter was somewhat surreal for Jenova; both Echani were so similar, so homogeneous, it was hard for Jenova to distinguish one from the other. Not only were their voices much alike, but so too were their auras in the force. Theirs were clear and crisp, as cool as a sunny day on Hoth. The complete opposite to Zazai.

She couldn't help but smile to herself, No one compares to Zazai

Aware that the broth was growing cold, Jenova focused back on the pair, absent glancing towards her own tent, "Regretfully, we weren't able to witness your round. Since you're here, in camp, I can only assume you were victorious. Who were your opponents?"

It also meant, quite possibly, that they would face the twins tomorrow for another stage of elimination. An exciting prospect. Jenova was tempted to invite the twins within the nearby shelter, perhaps use the opportunity to further analyse and scrutinize them (And knowing full well the twins would do the same). But she decided against it quickly, unsure if Zazai had once more covered his face. The poor male had to veil himself constantly. He deserved a chance to breathe free of the cloth's confinement.

​

​

​

 

[The Storyteller]

“We did.” The first man replied. “But not quite as...extravagantly as you.” His brother spoke.

The two sat with their bowls at a nearby table. The bearded man gestured to the bench across from them. “Please join us?” He asked politely.

“And where does such a beautiful woman come from” the second man said playfully before the bearded one chimed back in “and where does she learn to fight like that” he said, his gaze focused on her.

The second brother looked around “Where is your partner?” He asked as he continued to look around the camp before leaning in “The others are calling him “ the beast” he said smirking. There wasn’t any intentional disrespect in his voice, only a slight sense of fascination.

“Forgive my brother.” The bearded man spoke. “He sometimes does not know when to hold hjs tongue.“ he said giving his brother a stern look

 

[Jenova Savas]

For a moment, the hybrid was unsure. Whilst the Echani's intentions were well meant, Jenova was still wary. They were top competitors after all, perhaps looking to garner some information and bolster for an advantage. Then again, she could simply be paranoid. She sensed no immediate deceit, no ill intent...for now at least. Besides, this was a rare opportunity. Echani were rare outside the wider known universe; perhaps she'd be able to gleam some information for herself. And a wise sage once said, fortune favours the brave.

Now tempted, Jenova accepted the Echani's offer, settling herself at the table. Still, she made her presence known through the force, ensuring Zazai was aware of her location. She'd make it up to him later, knowing full well the broth would soon grow cold. She'd collect a refill when she departed.

The brothers' words flattered the amazon; many found her appearance 'exotic', its odd, unique combinations. Many failed to identified her species, and even fewer were braver to ask. Her hybridised genetics gave her a humanoid appearance, though her colouration was vibrant and eye-catching, unlike anyone else in the a galaxy. But she was staggering tall, figure naturally lean and toned. Whilst not immediately 'feminine', Jenova could certainly be striking. Ethereal even. Still, she was humble. Growing up from dirt poverty ensured that. "Unfortunately, my origins are none too 'extravagant'. I was born and raised in the fighting pits of Honoghr. There, you learnt to fight quickly."

She then paused, cantering her head at the crystalline pair. "The beast?" She smirked, amused by the notion. An accurate comparison, for someone who didn't know the Sith personally. But Jenova knew Zazai was so much more. "He is...meditating. After all, it's been an exciting day." She then moved to stand, gesturing in the direction of the tent, "I can fetch him, if you like. I'm sure he'd be eager to speak with you himself."

Zazai was the one who had voiced interest in the pair; perhaps he'd like to speak with the pair himself.

​