Arx, Uskil Swamps – Brotherhood Space
The stench of sulfur and rotting vegetation clung to the air like a curse.
Hidden beneath a tarp among crates of ore and half-dismantled droid parts, Qor lay in silence as the freighter thudded to a stop. The pilot’s bootsteps faded, and with a mechanical hiss, the bay doors opened. No alarms. No search. Good.
Qor slipped free from the cargo hold, landing softly in ankle-deep mire. His boots sank with a muted glurp into the fetid swamp. Gnarled trees loomed above, draped in mist like funeral shrouds. Half-buried Sith relics jutted from the muck like the bones of ancient beasts, long dead but not forgotten.
At his side, the matte black BB-unit rolled forward on silent servos. It paused. A sharp beep escaped its vocoder, followed by the blue flicker of a holo-projector casting encrypted text into the fog.
Directive: Kosst Rissokt. Confirmed kyber theft. Operate solo until additional assets arrive. Location security compromised. Immediate threat level: moderate-to-high. Priority: Observe and verify target presence. Do not engage unless exposed.
The message vanished. BB let out a low, toneless whirr, then resumed passive scanning. No commentary. No unnecessary processing. Just data.
Qor nodded once. He had arrived as planned — alone. The others would follow, eventually, but this part of the operation required a finer blade. And he was no hammer.
He moved like a whisper through the swamp, his cloak brushing ferns and fungus with minimal disturbance. He did not march; he flowed. This place had its own rhythm — still, damp, patient — and Qor matched it.
The kyber theft had been brazen. Foolish. Suicidal, even. Kosst Rissokt, a Trandoshan mercenary with too much pride and too little foresight, must have thought he could slip past Brotherhood attention. He hadn’t. His crew had died screaming in the mire or disappeared without a trace, picked off by predators or the bog itself. But Rissokt had survived.
And that, Qor would not allow.
He crouched beside a half-submerged obsidian pillar, its Sith glyphs eroded and tangled in moss. Ancient power, drowned but not gone. He rested a gloved hand on the stone. The Force rippled — a subtle current beneath the still surface.
Something was watching.
His eyes narrowed, scanning the slope ahead where pools of brackish water shimmered under the fog. Insects buzzed in chaotic rhythm, yet something felt off — a weight pressing against the air, a tension coiling beneath his skin.
Then: a splash. Not erratic. Not beastlike. Controlled. Heavy.
Qor exhaled silently. His fingers ghosted toward the hilt of his dagger — alchemically forged, honed not just to cut flesh but will. He didn’t draw it. Not yet.
He motioned to the BB-Unit with two fingers. The droid scanned and returned a silent, negative pulse — no visuals, no heat signatures in range. But Qor knew better than to trust machinery alone. The Force was clear: Rissokt was near.
He didn’t need to confront the Trandoshan now. He only needed confirmation. A glimpse. A sign.
He stepped forward, deeper into the fog, his path guided by instinct and precision. His foot avoided a root. His cloak barely stirred the reeds. The swamp accepted him, at least for now. Ahead, he found it — a slanted trail of broken flagstones, the remnants of some ancient Sith path. One of the stones bore a thin smear of blood. Fresh. Not enough for a fatal wound. Just enough to mark movement.
A message, maybe. Or a mistake. He stood slowly. His voice, low and even, flowed into the mist like a blade drawn across silk.
“Run, if you wish,” he said. “It only deepens the lesson.”
Behind him, BB-1K stood silent, scanning, waiting.
Qor didn’t smile. He didn’t need to.
The hunt had begun.
Elaine lay in waiting. The Equite was crouched down in the murky waters next to her Nexu, Callé, using the trees as cover. The fog draped over her like a thick blanket, humid and damp. The shadows concealing her figure.
A low growl sounded from the belly of the Nexu as he listened and awaited his master’s move. His tail flicked back and forth, moving up and down, in and out of the water.
The young human wasn’t just sitting idly by, she was listening. Sensing her surroundings within the Force. Watching.
Elaine was dispatched with a small group of her fellow clan members. Shadow, whom she had only met a few times at social gatherings. Qor, a Quarren surgeon who she had known for watching from the sidelines until something caught his eye. And finally, Grim, who she had never met before and had heard little to nothing about.
To no surprise, Qor had already arrived. Elaine could hear his footsteps in the muck and could sense his unique presence. By the sound of it, he was accompanied by someone or something.
She listened closer, the sound of bugs and critters filled the air. The hot air blowing past her like water over rocks.
As she listened closer, she could hear and feel a third presence.
‘Rissokt…’
Elaine had barely uttered the name when a low growl rumbled from behind a tree, a black Tuk’ata revealing himself with a warning as it locked eyes on the Nexu. It took a tense step forward, only to relax as a voice from up above in the tree spoke. “Now, now, Eqkaesyr. They are friends. They’re hunting with us today.“
The beast’s glowing, red eyes remained on Elaine and the Nexu as it sat down, its tail swishing once through the mucky water behind it. In the tree was Shadow Nighthunter, the Sith assassin enjoying her preferred arborial perch. However, duty called, and she slid off the branch and landed gracefully on the small patch of dry land.
“Don’t mind Eqkaesyr. He’s not used to hunting with others outside of the pack. Give him time, and he’ll adjust so long as the Nexu doesn’t challenge him. Next to me, he is also the alpha of the pack.”
Eqkaesyr held his head high, the Sith hound sensing Shadow’s praise. Shadow only chuckled and scratched behind one of his head spikes. “And he knows it too, but he’ll answer to me. I’ll keep him in line.”
Shadow slowly approached the Nexu from an angle with her hand extended. “You’ve a fantastic friend here. Has good form, nicely sharp claws, and very alert eyes.”
She knelt before the beast, patiently waiting until the Nexu sniffed her hand and relaxed. “I look forward to seeing the two of you in action. With our combined efforts, this hunt should go pretty well.”
The half-Sephi stood back up and offered the Savant a soft smile. “Although I could do without the humidity and the fog. We’ll just have to make do.”
The Sith looked around, noticing the fourth member of their hunting party was still absent. “I hope we can begin the hunt soon. I do enjoy a good chase through the wilderness. It’s a lovely thrill. Even more so when you have the prey running scared. Makes it all the more worth it.”
Shadow looked out into the swamp. “Even better is when the prey is a Trandoshan. A worthy prey. If you’re not careful, it’s very easy to become the hunted when they’re involved. All the more entertaining.”
From the misted veil of the underbrush, a ripple broke the stillness. The reeds bent with no wind. Then silence.
A heartbeat passed. Another. And then the water churned.
Qor emerged from the swamp’s shadow like a ghost dredged in algae and calm intent, the dark hem of his robes soaked and trailing a murky line behind him. He carried no lightsaber—never had—but in his gloved hand was a curved blade, forged from some tarnished alloy and wrapped in leather long faded. Not drawn. Merely… present.
“I heard Trandoshan,” he rasped, his voice like wet gravel underfoot. “You waited for me.”
He inclined his head respectfully to Shadow, his tendrils twitching faintly toward the Sith hound. Qor’s presence was cold and oddly still, yet the very swamp seemed to hum differently when he spoke—like the fauna paused, listening.
“Your Eqkaesyr is proud,” he noted, examining the beast. “He guards you even in stillness. That’s loyalty earned, not bred.” Then his dark gaze slid to Elaine and the Nexu. “And you bring another predator. Good. We’ll need more eyes. Kosst does not run like prey. He hunts as he flees. We are not chasing an animal—we are intruding on his terrain.”
Qor stepped fully into view now, his movements quiet for someone so solid. He eyed the tree line, and then the water again. “I’ve seen what he leaves behind. A patrol, carved up with precision. Nothing wasted. Organs missing. Claws or blade—I couldn’t tell. Either way, he’s refining a message.”
He crouched and dragged his fingers through the muck, then brought them up, letting it drip from his gloves. “He’s close. The blood in the water is old, but disturbed recently. He’s watching us. Testing.”
Then he stood. “Let him watch. Let him learn fear again.”
His tendrils flicked as he looked to Shadow. “Shall we hunt?”
Shadow nodded. “Indeed, let’s.”
The Blade Mistress gestured to Eqkaesyr, the beast immediately responding to her summons and coming to her side. She reached out to him in the Force, her consciousness brushing with his with anticipation for the hunt. The Sith Hound growled lowly in acknowledgement, ready to go.
“Eqkaesr is ready. Let’s find one of Rissokt’s ‘messages’ and let the beasts hunt. I don’t think it needs saying, but watch for traps, and keep your eyes on the trees. He’ll have a better chance of ambushing us from above. Plus, there might be other predators hunting around here.”
The Sith nodded to Qor and followed him as he led the group to one of the Trandoshan’s works. Her eyes scanned the surrounding foliage, one finger tapping the hilt of one of her lightsabers, ready to draw the weapon. She glanced at Elaine and Callé, noting the feline’s searching eyes ever watchful as he tread through the murky water like the graceful predator he was.
An extra set of eyes should give us an advantage. Still…
Shadow returned her attention to Qor, the half-Sephi continuing to follow him until they finally came up to the remains of the unfortunate patrol. Gashes where the Trandoshan had gutted them were now abuzz with flies and other flesh-eating insects. Even for a Sith like Shadow, such an act was barbaric.
“Eqkaesyr. Find.”
The Tuk’ata huffed and began sniffing the bodies, seeking a scent differing from the stench of death. Shadow kept her eyes peeled, her mind extending out into their surroundings via the Force as she sensed for danger. A low growl drew her attention back to the hound, and she saw Eqkaesyr glancing towards a dense gathering of foliage to their right.
“He’s got the scent…”
The swamps of Uskil stank of rot and old blood — a constant, clinging musk that made every breath feel like it needed to be chewed. The air was thick, heavy with moisture, and each inhale brought with it the oppressive stench of decay. The dark waters of the swamp oozed around the underbrush, swallowing any signs of life with insidious patience. It was a place where the weak did not last, and even the strongest had to tread carefully. The further they ventured, the more suffocating the air became, until it felt as though the very landscape itself was intent on choking them.
Qor pushed ahead through waist-high reeds, his blue eyes alert and narrowed under the hood of his black robe. His senses sharpened, feeling the pull of the Force that extended outward, mapping the land around him. The ruined patrol had been the last known marker. From here, they hunted. Behind him came the others. He didn’t glance back — he could feel them through the Force. The presence of his companions was like a distant hum, each individual a distinct note in the chorus of the hunt.
Shadow moved like a stalking predator, quiet despite the muck, her form nearly invisible against the shadows of the swamp. Her hulking tuk’ata, Eqkaesyr, padded at her side, its massive paws making no sound as it traversed the murky ground. The beast was a silent force of nature, its sleek fur dark as the night, blending with the swamp’s gloom. Every few moments, the tuk’ata’s low growl rippled through the air, a reminder that the creatures of this place could smell danger long before it arrived.
Elaine, too, moved with uncanny grace, her steps more fluid than most, gliding over the swamp’s terrain as though it were second nature. Her feline companion, Callé, kept to the flanks, its eyes constantly scanning the horizon. The big cat was as silent as a shadow, its movements precise and deliberate, and it often paused to sniff the air, alert to any unseen threat lurking nearby. Qor said nothing at first.
His eyes scanned both terrain and canopy, constantly aware of the subtle shifts in the landscape. The dense swamp seemed alive, its trees twisted and gnarled, their branches clawing at the sky. His free hand, webbed and sensitive, occasionally brushed against the brambles and foliage, feeling for wire, tension, or weight. His fingers were fine-tuned to the most minute shifts — the smallest disturbance in the natural order.
There was no telling what dangers lay hidden here, but Qor was certain of one thing: Kosst Rissokt wasn’t just a fugitive. He was a hunter. And hunters always left bait.
“Keep alert,” Qor finally murmured, his voice a low rasp over the thick air. The humidity of the swamp clung to his skin like a second layer, yet his words cut through the stillness, his voice unwavering. “Ground and trees. This isn’t his first hunt — just his boldest.”
He crouched low near a fallen log, its side hollowed out by decay. The bodies had been left brutally — gutted, not out of necessity, but message. Qor’s keen eyes scanned the mutilated remains, noting the precision of the work. The grotesque display seemed intended not just to terrorize, but to unsettle. Still, Qor didn’t linger on the grisly sight. His focus was elsewhere, as it always was. He had been through worse, seen worse, and the bodies were only a reminder of the predator they sought. Instead, he inspected the surrounding terrain: how the ground dipped unnaturally to one side, the subtle way moss had been disturbed across a branch above.
A trip wire had been here once — perhaps tripped by the now-dead patrol, or disarmed by Rissokt as he passed. A subtle layer of mud covered the root. Someone had tried to sweep their tracks. Not well enough. “He passed through here. Recently,” Qor called back, straightening. His robes clung damply to his legs, the weight hardly noticed beneath the pulse of focus in his chest. The Force buzzed with energy, feeding his instincts, urging him to keep moving.
“Not long before the kill.” He moved forward again, slower now, more cautious. His boots made a faint squelching sound in the muck, and his steps were deliberate. He tested each patch of ground, ensuring that it could bear his weight without giving way. The Force guided him, attuned to every shift in the air, every shift in the soil beneath his feet.
Behind him, the deep rumble of Eqkaesyr sounded, and Shadow spoke in a low, controlled tone. “Eqkaesyr is ready. Let’s find one of Rissokt’s ‘messages’ and let the beasts hunt. Watch for traps — and the trees.”
Qor gave the briefest nod, acknowledging the command. “Already marked two trip points. One fake. Noise traps.” He gestured to a small set of bones hanging from a line just ahead. The bones were nothing special, likely scavenged from some unfortunate creature, but they were artfully arranged. Snapped reeds and scavenged teeth were knotted with sinew, and the wind shifted, making them clack softly in the breeze — an eerie imitation of speech. Meant to spook. To disorient.
Elaine said nothing, but Qor could feel her presence steady and prepared in the Force. Her focus was razor-sharp, honed by years of training. Callé’s low growl warned of distant motion — not near, but not far enough. The big cat’s instincts were finely tuned, and Qor trusted them as much as he trusted his own. The team moved with precision, every step deliberate, every movement calculated.
They pressed on.
Another thirty meters deeper, and the canopy closed tighter, the trees looming overhead, their thick branches weaving together to form a dense ceiling of leaves and vines. Light here filtered down in thick shafts, broken only by the constant presence of insects and the soft hiss of distant water. The oppressive air was thick with humidity, and every breath felt like it carried a weight of its own.
The swamp’s dense stillness was broken only by the sound of distant birds and the occasional splash of water, but that could not mask the feeling that something was watching them. Something that was not just a predator, but a hunter, just as they were.
Qor stopped suddenly, raising a hand. There — pressure. Not visual. Not auditory. A disturbance. He knelt quickly, brushing away a veil of moss and uncovering a crude pressure plate hidden beneath a carpet of old leaves and mud. Simple. Brutal. A triggering line led up into the trees, likely connected to a weighted spear or spiked trap. The design was crude, but effective. Whoever had laid this trap knew how to manipulate the environment, how to use it against his prey. But they had underestimated him. Qor deactivated it with care, snipping the line with a flick of his dagger. The blade hissed as it cut through the wire, and the trap went still.
“Confirmed. Laced the area,” he muttered to no one in particular. His voice was barely above a whisper, as though speaking louder would somehow draw attention. “He wants to bleed us before we find him.”
Just then, Eqkaesyr let out a deep, chesty growl — sharp this time. Focused. The tuk’ata turned to the west, hackles rising, ears erect.
Qor followed the beast’s gaze and extended his awareness. The Force stretched out, sweeping across the swamp. The beasts had found the trail. But something else had found them.
Far ahead, across a stretch of still water and dense vines, a shape shifted behind the ferns.
Reptilian. Broad-shouldered. Massive.
The silhouette was barely visible, but it was unmistakable. Qor’s pulse quickened, his instincts flaring, and he reached out with the Force, testing the air. The shape was familiar. It was Rissokt.
The wind shifted, and he caught a scent — sharp, metallic, like the tang of blood on the breeze. Kosst Rissokt froze. His snout lifted. He sniffed the air once. Twice.
Then slowly, the Trandoshan straightened — no longer slinking, no longer hiding. He turned to face the direction of the hunting party, his long claws curling, and his jaw twitching in what might have been a grin.
He had picked up their scent. He knew they were coming. And he was ready.
“Callé… Hunt.” Elaine spoke in hushed tones but intentionally. The Nexu wasted no time as it leapt towards a tree, digging his claws into the bark and climbing onto a solid branch. He looked around through the leaves, his four, red eyes reflecting the foggy lit scenery. Unlike a lot of other felines, Nexu’s had unique vision. While they have four eyes, only two were for normal sight. The other two allowed him to see in inferred to detect heat signatures.
Callé could see many colored figures with the shadows of the swamp, most of them were orange in color as critters moved around while others were a cold blue, lifeless and still. Quiet like the night.
The Nexu jumped from branch to branch of different tress as the group progressed forward. He couldn’t see anything but wildlife.
Elaine made a unique clicking noise using her mouth to signal some sort of command for her companion when only moments later, a roar echoed with the chamber created by the trees. Birds took to the sky and the other wildlife began to flee. Even the Trandoshan himself was startled with a glimpse of fear. He began to move farther from the group of Sith, looking to keep a safe distance as to keep the element of discretion but he miscalculated. He stepped too far. One step out of place. Only for a moment, he was visible. Unfortunately for Rissokt, a moment is all Callé needed.
The Nexu locked onto him in his sights and descended from the tress to regroup with the rest of the hunters.
“He’s got something,” Elaine stated to her comrades. She lowered her posture down a bit and placed her hand on the hilt of her lightsaber which remained clipped onto her belt.
Bump
Qor crouched near the twisted roots of a swamp tree, his tendrils twitching slightly in anticipation. The damp air clung to his skin, heavy with spores and the distant stench of decaying life. He didn’t speak when Elaine gave the signal. He didn’t need to. Callé’s movement was confirmation enough.
He felt the shift in the air before the roar came. The wildlife scattered. Silence cracked open like bone under pressure. And then—there. A flicker in the fog. A mistake. One step too wide.
Qor narrowed his eyes.
“Rissokt,” he muttered under his breath. “You always were impatient.”
From a pocket within his cloak, he drew a slender vial—glass, stained faintly green. Inside, his hallucinogenic compound pulsed gently when exposed to the humid air. One dose would send even a seasoned killer into a maze of phantoms. He tapped the stopper loose with a careful claw and dipped the edge of his dagger into the mixture, coating it with expert precision.
He turned his head slightly toward Elaine, voice low but sharp. “Flush him toward me. Let him see something he can’t unsee.” Then he moved, vanishing into the mist with deliberate silence. Where others might chase, Qor waited. Calculated. His dagger drawn, his mind calm. This wasn’t rage. It was art.
Rissokt’s time was measured in breaths now.
And Qor would be there to collect.
Elaine gave a simple nod as the surgeon vanished into the fog. She looked over to the Sephi next to her. “You take the left, I’ll take the right,” the young human voiced as she dashed off into the haze on the right.
A sharp whistle sounded from Elaine and echoed throughout the concave of trees. Callé immediately pursued their target with cautious intent, slowly moving through the brush in the murky waters. Elaine moved in unison with her Nexu as they approached the enemy.
The swamp swallowed all sound but the low squelch of Qor’s movement beneath the muck. He slithered low, body tight against the saturated earth, each ripple of motion concealed by the rising mist. His mind sharpened on the scent ahead—wet leather, blood, and the acrid musk of fear masked poorly by aggression.
Rissokt.
The Trandoshan was close. Too close to risk another signal. Qor crept forward like spilled oil, every movement calculated, every breath measured. The dagger, now ghostly with the glint of hallucinogen, barely quivered in his grip.
A flick of motion through the fog. The heavy, uneven weight of a two-legged predator scanning for movement. Qor’s tendrils twitched with anticipation. He visualized the strike, imagined the perfect placement—jugular, clean. Delusion would set in before the Trandoshan could even scream.
He pushed forward.
And the ground gave out beneath him.
Snap.
A hiss of pressure and a sudden flare of pain surged through his side as tightly woven netting laced with barbed wire cinched around his torso, yanking him violently upward. The mist spun as he was hoisted off the ground, slamming into a crooked tree branch with a guttural growl.
Qor’s dagger slipped from his grip, landing with a wet thud in the marsh.
The trap groaned under the weight of its prize, leaves shivering from the jolt. Above, hidden pulleys groaned as the rig tightened. He hung there like a skewered trophy, ink-black blood dripping in slow, angry lines.
From somewhere beyond the veil of fog, a cruel laugh echoed.
“You always did like to think you were the hunter,” Rissokt’s voice growled, closer now. “But you Quarren bleed like the rest.”
Qor clenched his jaw, tendrils flicking in defiance. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.