This fic is based about five years before the events in my RP, before he discovered his heritage, the K'Satizitus, had kids, etc. I've had this story in my head in some shape or form pretty much since I created the character in SWG back in....Aug 03 was it? Anyway, I would like your input on it (only the first Chap for now...warning it's over 3 pages long). I've rewritten this first chap at least three times since I started trying to get this fic going, and in this version I have taken bits of text from older version and incoorperated them into this one, so if you see repeations of 'facts', please point them out to me.

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Chapter 1: Ambush

The sun was only just starting to peek over the horizon when the lone occupant of a camp stirred. Lilac eyes squinted at the morning sun, almost as if to damn it for coming up so soon, then were crushed closed when a large yawn overwhelmed him, rows of carnivorous teeth gleaming in the morning light briefly. Trazu slipped out of his tent and stretched, letting the strengthening sunlight wash over his green scales and warm him a bit before briefly going back into his tent to retrieving his jacket and sword. He flinched slightly as he pulled the jacket on, it's black leather was a bit cold due to the cool night air of last night, but tolerated the brief discomfort knowing the sun's rays will quickly warm it.

Settling on the ground next to the small ring of stones that served as the fire pit last night, he carefully inspected his sword, making sure it's edge was still sharp and no rust had started to form on it. It was a simple curved sword, one commonly found on the market, but he wasn't about to be careless with his equipment just because it could be easily replaced. This sword had been given to him by the only person he had ever considered 'friend' and the weapon had saved his life many times during the two years time he had been on his own on Talus, both in the cities and out here in the wild.

A faint smile appeared on his lips as he remembered the first time the sword saved his life. It was during one of his first trips into Dearic, the Capital of Talus, on his own. A local gang leader, apparently having only assumed the position, wanted to make an example out of him for invading his 'turf'. Trazu had to give the man credit, for the bastard nearly did him in, but he made the mistake of underestimating him. Yes he was rather short for his race, but no matter how short he was it still takes a lot to kill a Trandoshan. The look on the man's face when he literally cut his reign short was priceless and he still wore the gold bracelet he took as a trophy to this day: it was the first and only time he ever followed the Trandoshan tradition of trophy collecting.

Satisfied the sword was in perfect condition and it's scabbard was well greased, Trazu sheathed the sword and hooked it onto his belt. With one final stretch as he rose to his feet, he set off to hunt for his breakfast.


The birds were already singing their morning songs and the dew on the grass tickled his feet as he looked for signs of prey. Trazu walked softly and causally, to not alarm the native residents of the small forest he was currently walking through: to scare away the animals would mean he would go hungry. He was hoping the herd of paralope he spotted before setting up camp last night was still around, but he doubted it: herds don’t stay in one place very long to avoid predators, like him. Sure he could just go to the city to get food there, but where was the fun in that? Like many Trandoshans, he lived for the hunt.

Besides he preferred this life, the life of a Ranger, for there was no rules other then the laws of nature to follow, no 'traditions' of his race he had to heed to. He did have a since of law and order however, if not an odd sense of honor. In part due to his first encounter with a gang, he hated thugs in any shape or form and would kill them on sight. His excuse: 'better for me to kill them now then to let them live and possibly kill an innocent the following day'. As a result he is well known among the local gangs in town and those gang members that are smart do well to stay out of his sight. Beyond that, he was a ‘nobody’ to everyone else: he preferred it that way.

He hadn’t gone very far from his camp when he noticed how quiet it was: the birds still be singing, which meant something must have disturbed them. It wasn’t him, he knew, as he moved as he was a part of the land and not a stranger to it. He stopped his forward pace, his senses on full alert and his hand moving to the hilt of his sword by pure instinct.

His nictitating membranes, a semi-transparent third eyelid, slid over his lilac eyes briefly in a blink as he scanned his immediate surroundings. At first there was nothing, then he heard a faint rustle in a nearby bush and he spotted sudden movement out of the corner of one eye: he spun away from the incoming strike. He didn’t counterstrike, not even drawing his blade, preferring to get a clear view of his attacker first, though he already had a good guess what it was.

He found himself facing a Zabark male, who had stumbled and took a moment to recompose himself due to Trazu’s evasive maneuver. Due to Trazu’s training he could tell that this Zabrak was far below him in skill and that he was foolish to attack an armed opponent, let alone an armed Trandoshan. Trazu just stared at his wannabe opponent, hoping he would come to realize how much trouble he just got himself into: it would be more fun to him if he had to chase this guy down then to fight him head to head. From the mans clothing he could also tell he was a member of a local gang; this guy had to be either new or looking to prove something considering this gang knew to give him a wide berth.

Unfortunately this individual’s ‘idiot’ level went up a few notches in Trazu’s mind when the moment he had regained his footing he faced Trazu again, this time he noticed he had a knife. With a snort Trazu drew his own blade, which was easily five times the length of his opponent’s weapon. Again he was hoping to intimidated the man into running.

“Oooo…so you have a big blade.” The Zabark taunted, “But do you know how to use it lizard face?”

Trazu sighed, a part of him wanting to cut him down right then, not because of the insult, but because of the sheer stupidity and cockiness of this guy. However he decided to toy with this one for a while instead. He beckoned with this sword, not even going into a fighting stance, telling his opponent to make the first move. The Zabrak took him up on his offer and rushed in, his knife leading the way in a thrust. Trazu easily dodged the strike by twisting around to one side and the Zabrak immediately followed up his thrust with a slash, which Trazu parried lazily.

The Zabrak kept up the assault, with Trazu staying purely on the defensive, but only half-heartedly. Again he was hoping this would clue in on this guy that he being easy on him and that he could kill him at any moment if he wished. But this opponent was obviously arrogant to this obvious fact and Trazu was getting bored of this game. Too bored. His opponent suddenly managed to get past his lazy defense and landed a blow, a brief flare of pain erupting in his side. Trazu jumped back and inspected the damage. It was a long shallow cut on his left side, nothing serious and nothing his regeneration ability couldn’t handle. But now he was pissed off, both at himself for allowing himself to slip like that and at his opponent for cutting his favorite jacket.

His stance went from defensive to offensive right then. In one swift move the Zabrak was disarmed him, his knife ended up buried to the hilt in a nearby tree.
“I was toying with you before…” Trazu growled, “But I am bored of this game now…so now you die.”

It was then his opponent finally got a clue and started to back away, Trazu following…and closing in on him. When he was close enough he raised his sword to strike the Zabrak dead. But he never got to land that blow, for suddenly he was stuck in the back of the head by something. He remembered staggering, his sword slipping from his unresponsive fingers and the world spinning in his vision, before total darkness claimed him.


A faint light filled his vision some unknown time later and he wondered if this was what death was like. As the light became brighter and the image became sharper he came to realize that he wasn’t dead when by all his logic he should be.

Slowly he moved, using his still awakening senses to see if any danger was nearby. He could hear voices off in the distance, but he couldn’t make out what was being said. He took this as a good sign, as the owners wouldn’t likely notice him getting up. So, carefully he put himself into a sitting position, getting momentarily dizzy and needing to steady himself by putting his hands on the ground. Cautiously, he reached back and felt the back of his head: he found a circular soft spot there, the brief pain from touching the new wound making him wince. He felt some fluid on the spot and brought his hand back to the front to see what it was. There were slight traces of blood, his blood, on his fingers as well as traces of ash and charred flesh: he had been shot. Trazu hissed it dawned on him that Zabrak was only a distraction, while the real opponent remained at a safe distance and waited for the right moment to striket. He also realized just how lucky he was: if the shot had hit him just a little lower….

It was silly to think of what could have happened and he made a silent thanks to his goddess things turned out the way they did. Now retribution is due and he had no intention of letting the Zabrak or his unseen ‘friend’ live another day. He did a quick search for his sword, which he found laying in the grass not far away. He was a bit surprised they didn’t take it…they didn’t take anything off his body, not even his gold bracelet. They likely thought he was dead and thus felt they had all the time in the world to loot his remains: boy how wrong he was about to prove them. Trazu picked up his sword and studied it a moment, refamiliarizing himself with its weight and sharpness, before putting it in its sheath. He then proceeded to crawl up the nearby hillside, toward the voices, utilizing his skin color and dark clothing as camouflage in this forested area. At the top of the hill he stayed low and peered over the top. Down on the other side of the hill, he recognized his own campsite and rummaging through it were two humanoids, one of them the Zabrak he was fighting earlier. The other was a dark skinned human: this one had a rifle slung over his shoulder.

If there was one thing more he hated then thugs, it was guns. Oh how he hated guns. Such dishonorable pieces of equipment they were, equipment that cowards can hide behind with little fear of getting harmed themselves. He hissed, teeth bared, lilac eyes narrowing. They won’t survive this day not only for being stupid and not making sure he was dead, but due to their cowardly tactics as well.

Both the punk’s backs were to him, so he silently made his way down the hill toward them. He made for the human first, flipping his sword between his right and left hands in anticipation. Once close enough, he attacked, driving his sword forward with all his strength, easily running the punk through with its blade. The human only had enough time left in his life to look down in shock at the sword protruding from his chest before going limp. Trazu put his foot on the now dead human’s back and yanked his weapon free, letting the body crumple to the ground. The Zabrak punk only stood there in disbelief for a moment and then turned into a stuttering fool the second Trazu turned his gaze, and his sword, toward him.

“P…p…please don’t man…” The Zabrak said, backing away with his hands up in front of his face, “S…s…show some mercy…please…”

“Mercy?” Trazu said, advancing, amused how this guy so suddenly changed his tune since their first fight, “Have you ever known a T'Doshok to show mercy?”

“Uh…uh…”

“Of course there are exceptions to every rule…” Trazu continued and he saw the punk relax a bit, “However…” Trazu snapped forward, grabbing him by the shirt with this free hand and pulled him so he was right in his face and said in a menacing tone: “I do not show mercy to those that use the tactics of cowards…”

All the color was in the Zabrak’s face had drained and Trazu pushed him away from him. He started to run, but didn’t get far enough away fast enough to avoid Trazu’s swing, which kindly separated his head from the rest of his body.

“A quick death is the only form of mercy I will give to scum like you.” Trazu growled as he watched the now headless body stagger a moment then finally crumple to the ground.


He looted the bodies before disposing of them: for lowlifes they had a quite a bit of cash on them, likely from successful hits before meeting their end by the blade of his sword. Other then the rifle, which he promptly destroyed, they didn’t have anything else on them other then food rations, which he took since he never got to hunt for his morning meal: besides they won’t need them anymore.

Grumbling he took the time to find all of his belongings those two had scattered about during their rummaging. He actually didn’t have much in the way of possessions, beyond a couple of skinning knives and cooking equipment he made everything he needed by scratch and any credits he earned or found was in a bank: the datapad that had his account information was on his person. Once he and found everything, he packed up and left the area. He didn’t want to risk taking the chance in his injured state that the gang those two were part may come searching for their missing comrades: the last thing he needed was for a whole gang to descend upon him during the night while he was asleep.


After a few hours travel Trazu finally set up camp again, which was a few miles away from his old campsite. There wasn’t any other humanoid in sight and that was the way he wanted it. He leaned back, listening to the soothing sound of the nearby river and the songs of the birds off in the distance, watching the sky turn into its dusk colors.

Despite the relaxing atmosphere he felt disappointed in himself; he should have known something was wrong when such an easy kill jumped him like that by himself and he kept mentally kicking himself over it: why else would an opponent so obviously weaker then him seem to attempt to mug him alone? And why the hell didn’t his ‘sixth sense’ warn him about the other thug? Too far away? Or was it because his mind was clouded when he got angry at the thug for managing to cut his jacket? His disappointment had been only slightly lifted by his two assailant’s deaths. They were stupid not to ensure he was dead and it cost them their lives, but he wouldn’t likely be as lucky next time. With a grunt he felt the back of his head. It still hurt and he could still feel the burn mark where he was shot still. Yes, he was very lucky today and Scorekeeper knows ones luck doesn’t always hold out for long: he will have to be more wary in the future.

He survived the close call, but now he was starting to suffer. The wound on the back of his head wasn’t deep, but it was starting to swell, causing a dull throbbing headache to start. It will heal quickly, thanks to his species innate regeneration abilities, but he didn’t want to be uncomfortable either. So he moved down to the rivers bank, stripped down to his boxers, and wadded into the river. The cool water was a shock to his system at first, but quickly got used to it. He lay on his back in water that was just shallow enough to keep him from floating away and allowed the coolness of the water soothe the aching wound.

Watching the clouds float by over his head, he let his mind wander. There were many things he wished he could change: his freaking height for one. Often he is mistaken for a kid at first because of this: he had lost count on how many times he had 'corrected' such errors during his life. His height has always been a sensitive issue to him, since he was teased about his 'lack' of it when he was still on his homeworld Trandosha: it was one of the reasons he ended up leaving the planet long before most Trandoshans do. It was good fortune when he met Rane Krasti, who taught him what he knew and gave him many valuable lessons. Lessons like: appearances can be deceiving, which is a lesson he was reminded of today. He genuinely missed the human and wondered where he was and how he was doing. Rare it is for a Trandoshan to consider anyone, even among their own kind, a friend and Rane was most definitely a friend to Trazu.

Who am I…what is my purpose? He thought, asking himself two age old questions. At this moment, he didn’t know, but an old vision...or was a memory?...came to him. One about being trapped in a dark place, his life nearly slipping away from him only to be saved when a beam of life giving light penetrated that darkness. He felt safe and secure, then that security was taken away: a part of him felt empty ever since. It was a familiar feeling, one he felt off and on depending on his mood. Was it the memory of his earliest moments? Or was it a vision of what is to come? He didn’t know.

The sun was sinking behind the horizon and the air was starting to cool. Knowing the combination of wet skin and cool air wasn’t good for him; he climbed out of the river. Stifling a yawn, he gathered his cloths and returned to camp: it was time to turn in for the night. With one last look at his surroundings, he entered his tent to sleep the night away and give his body the rest it needed to heal his wounds.


A much younger Trazu grumbled bitterly to himself as his mentor, a human named Rane Krasti, bandaged his wounds, ignoring the pain. He had picked a fight with a small local animal, a kima, which he thought he would be able to defeat easily, but ended up losing to it by a long shot and much to the embarrassment to the young Trandoshan.

“What are you grumbling about?” his mentor asked him.

“I should have won…” Trazu growled.

“Why? Because it was smaller then you?”

“Yes!”

“Just because something is lacking in the size department doesn’t mean it is weak and just because something looks weaker then yourself doesn’t mean it will be an easy win.” Rane said, “It is never safe to assume an easy win going by looks alone, for you never know what tricks your seemingly weak opponent will have up it’s sleeve.”

“But…”

“And being cocky about your abilities can be just as dangerous.” Rane interrupted, “and you…” he poked him in the snout, “as a member of a race who are well known as hunters, should know this.”

Trazu hung his head, his mentor’s words stinging and he could think of no response.

“’That which does not kill us makes us stronger.’” Rane said, “You are still young Trazu and have many years ahead of you, provided you do not act foolish and stupid.”


Trazu woke up after that dream, no, that was a memory and sighed. It was a lesson he had forgotten and he nearly lost his life because he had forgotten it. He vowed not to forget it again. Turning over, he went back to sleep, so he would properly rested for what tomorrow could bring.

Viscious little bugger isn't he? One thing I notice is there is no reference to his "age" or the lifespan of his race. You may have mentioned it in other rp's but if this is the prelude, then this is the rp people may read first to know your character/storyline.

I would think then, that any information on his race you established in other rp's should be again established in this one so people know "what" he is if not who he is yet.

Another thing that might help is perhaps describing the "lay of the land" around him. What is involved in his "hunt" for food? Meaning does he still hunt going back to his "Trandoshan" roots (whatever they may be) or is he hunting after the humanoid fashion with his blade weapon?

I wasn't sure how he was going to hunt (though I may have missed the explanation). Was he going to run down a wild animal or something and slash it with his sword.. (he'd have to be a fast runner) or was he going for smaller game, a bird? a ... what does he eat?

How much does he eat?

If he sets a camp, how much does he carry on his person? Can't be a large tent with a sleeping blanket or whatnot, something easily discardable if ambushed or surprised.

The punks hunting him. Did he just stumble on them or where they stalking him? If stalking him, why hit after he set up camp and not while he was carrying the "camp" on his back?


Was there any specific difficulty in moving the camp for him being injured. How long would the regeneration of his wound take? Surely it wouldn't heal like in 4 minutes or something no?


Another thing of note (which you may or may not want to address at some point) is, if I saw the correct drawings, these Tradoshans are lizard-like. How much of their anatomy is actually lizard and how much is mammal-like?

He may find advantageous since he walks upright for humanoid outerware but does he really need boxers? If you kick a Trandoshan between the legs, will he go down as a human would?

You get what I am saying?

Sometimes people who write aliens (and I include myself in this) tend to make a mistake of making the alien merely a human in alien skin rather than establishing the "alien set of rules" for anatomy, biology, as well as culture and writing from that foundation.


And is there something wrong with his memory?


I like your mentor flashback.... perhaps later an explanation surrounding the circumstances of how a Trandoshan came to have a human mentor would be cool.


Seem like you were starting from "absolute zero":

A land in anarchy
No friends
No people

And will build his story.


How did he get to Tralus?
Was he born there?
Parents?
Etc..

As before, if explained in earlier rp's which are set after this time, a repeat of those explanations would help.

Unless that information unfolds as the plot moves forward, but then an explanation why he remembers nothing would be very welcome as a starting point.

So the audience can understand and learn as he learns.


Just my two cents.


Look forward to more.

"Viscious little bugger isn't he?"

That's what Trandos are known for. ;)

"One thing I notice is there is no reference to his "age" or the lifespan of his race. You may have mentioned it in other rp's but if this is the prelude, then this is the rp people may read first to know your character/storyline.

I would think then, that any information on his race you established in other rp's should be again established in this one so people know "what" he is if not who he is yet."

In one of the previous versions of the fic I did explain why he was on Talus and his known history at this point. I found I have a nasty little habit of revealing 'everything' about the character within the first paragraph and wanted to avoid that this time, and save some information for other chapters. Revealing a bunch of info on the character right from the start may be good from an RPs perspective, but that doesn't nessacarily hold true for a proper 'fic'. The start of the second chap I have so far is a bit weak IMO, so maybe I'll reinclude it then.

"Another thing that might help is perhaps describing the "lay of the land" around him. What is involved in his "hunt" for food? Meaning does he still hunt going back to his "Trandoshan" roots (whatever they may be) or is he hunting after the humanoid fashion with his blade weapon?

I wasn't sure how he was going to hunt (though I may have missed the explanation). Was he going to run down a wild animal or something and slash it with his sword.. (he'd have to be a fast runner) or was he going for smaller game, a bird? a ... what does he eat?

How much does he eat?"

The land will be described a bit more in the next chap, and his hunting methods revealed in an later chap (roughly chap 4). You missed the mention of paralopes for the 'what does he eat'question ;)

"If he sets a camp, how much does he carry on his person? Can't be a large tent with a sleeping blanket or whatnot, something easily discardable if ambushed or surprised."

One thing I need to get out of my head is the 'habit' of thinking he can unrealistically carry as much shit around as he does in SWG, that includes what's he has in his camp. Not easy (about as easy for me as getting the imagine of a passager jet out of my head when trying to describe a space ship ><).

"The punks hunting him. Did he just stumble on them or where they stalking him?"


He stumbled across them. I originally was going to state something to this effect but for some reason didn't.

"Was there any specific difficulty in moving the camp for him being injured. How long would the regeneration of his wound take? Surely it wouldn't heal like in 4 minutes or something no?"

There's no 'offical' information on just how fast their regeneration abilities are, other then 'it's fast'. I do have a guess though and the 'hint' at the speed of the regeneration pocess will be included in the next chap.

"Another thing of note (which you may or may not want to address at some point) is, if I saw the correct drawings, these Tradoshans are lizard-like. How much of their anatomy is actually lizard and how much is mammal-like?"

From offical sources they are reptiles. However from what little offical information I have gathered, it seems they are at least somewhat warm blooded: it just does not seem logical to me that a feared race such as them could get the reputation they have if they have to lay in the sun for a few hours every morning just so they can function properly (would hamper any that are Bounty hunters as well). I'll try to include a mention of that at some point, it will be difficult to do though without sounding 'corny'. *shrug*

"He may find advantageous since he walks upright for humanoid outerware but does he really need boxers? If you kick a Trandoshan between the legs, will he go down as a human would?"

Blame SWG and my own need for a since of diginty :P: it's habit.

"Sometimes people who write aliens (and I include myself in this) tend to make a mistake of making the alien merely a human in alien skin rather than establishing the "alien set of rules" for anatomy, biology, as well as culture and writing from that foundation."

*nods* Understand completely and I do have that problem as well. The problem here is that while this is an established canon species, Lucas seems to have forgotten to give us the 'manual' on them ;). So I am forced to make up a lot of things as I go. I am 'slowly' writing a complete bio on them, but there are a lot of gaps to fill...

"And is there something wrong with his memory?"

Nope. He just doesn't know his linegage, which is an important thing to a Trandoshan. Why he doesn't will be explained later on.

"perhaps later an explanation surrounding the circumstances of how a Trandoshan came to have a human mentor would be cool."

Next chap ;)

Depending on how busy I am at work today I will work on chap 2 a bit more. Stay tuned.

lol.. ok.

coolness.

I think it could stand a bit more improving myself...

***

Chapter 2: Blood and Pirates

A couple of days later Trazu was on the road again, going where ever his instincts told him to go. It was a nice day out; the sun was warm with a faint breeze wafting through the air. The only thing that worried him was the fact that he was now traveling in the vast expanse of plains that were to the south of Dearic. There hadn’t been much rain so far this year so the grass was yellow, making his green scales and dark clothing very obvious from far off. This meant that hunting would be trickier in this area, for prey would spot him from much farther off if he wasn’t careful: the same with any gangs roaming the countryside looking for lone travelers to pick off. He didn’t need to hunt right now fortunately, as he had caught some fish in the river before setting out. Plus he was confident in his abilities and the skills Rane had taught him.

Trazu remembered when he met Rane, not so long ago when he first arrived on Talus roughly seven years ago. He wasn’t even an adolescent then, a ten standard year old Trandoshan suddenly finding himself on a planet where he had no clue how to fend for himself: he didn’t even know Basic. Trazu remembered the fear, the confusion, and the feeling of being completely lost was rather overwhelming and wondered if he had made a mistake. His foray into the big wide galaxy was almost cut short by a chance encounter with an enraged Wookiee, but fortunately Rane had stepped in just in time. For five years after that day, he remained in Rane’s company, learning how to survive in the wild and other skills, including improving his swordsmanship, which he knew the basics of back then from his training back home. It was a sad day for him when Rane told him it was time for them to part ways….


“Why can’t I stay with you?” Trazu said, watching in dismay as Rane packed up his few possessions.
“You have learned everything I could teach you Trazu.” Rane said, not looking up from his task. “And it’s time for both of us to move on.”
“But…”
“The life of a Ranger is one of solitude Trazu. You are fifteen now and an adult for your race, by now others of your age would have moved on by their own accord.”
“I am not ‘like’ the others…you know that…”
“That is not what I am trying to say Trazu. I’ve taught you everything I could for you to continue to learn and grow mentally is for you to start doing things on your own. If I was to remain in your company I would only be hindering you.”
“I don’t understand…how can you hinder me?”
“By allowing you to remain dependent on me. You are somewhat ‘clingy’ for a Trandoshan. I believe this is my own fault as I have spoiled you and the only way I know to break you of that habit is for me to leave and make you fend for yourself.”


It had been a harsh final lesson: sometimes for continued growth one must strike out on his own and learn things in his own way. At the time he found his mentor’s comments to be insulting, but now he realized he was right: he had grown too dependent, too…’clingy’ on him. He was old enough and skilled enough to fend for himself and no longer needed a ‘safety net’.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a faint plume of smoke. Pausing in his stride he studied the plume. At first he suspected a wildfire, but wildfires tended spread quickly on these grasslands and this plume of smoke wasn’t getting any bigger, so it was likely something else. Curious now, Trazu headed in that direction of the smoke, noting it looked to be just beyond a one of the few small groves of trees that dotted the grasslands.

As he drew closer he started to hear faint laughter: it seemed the smoke was from a camp fire. That just brought new questions though. With the sun still up there was no need for a campfire unless the campers were cooking: there wasn’t enough smoke for it to be that. The mystery intriguing him even more, he moved even closer and after entering the small grove of trees and almost completely passing through it he found the source.

There was a speeder that looked like it had met a bad end, its engine compartments smoking and anti-gravity panels no longer functioning. Just off to one side of the wreck was a group of four men, members of the Binyate Pirate gang going by their colors and clothing, and they were going over what looked like the spoils of their hit. Trazu couldn’t see the driver of the speeder, who he feared was likely dead by now knowing this particular gangs reputation.

Time for my good deed of the day. Trazu thought grimly, as the quietly shrugged off his pack. If the driver was dead he intended to avenge his or her needless death: pirates were the worse of all thugs and he despised them greatly. From his position he could tell two of the men were armed: one had a staff, the other a lance, but the remaining two he couldn’t tell what weapon they used, if anything. He knew it wouldn’t be smart to just rush in: that would be suicide with this gang, so he needed to even the odds a little.

They hadn’t noticed him yet, so he took the time to move in a bit closer, using the trees and underbrush as cover and picked up a rock along the way. When he was close enough he stood up threw the rock at the closest pirate. The rock smacked the back of the pirate with the lance, who shot up with a start and glared in Trazu’s direction. This was one of the few cases his small size worked to his advantage: the pirates were assuming he was just a kid looking for trouble and not really worth the effort for all of them to attack him. So he decided to play that ‘assumption’ up a bit.

“Wanna play?” Trazu taunted in a childish voice, quickly picking up and throwing another rock at the pirate, this one bouncing off the man’s head. The lancer, angry and his buddies laughing at him, picked up a sizable stone and threw it at Trazu in retaliation. Trazu feigned getting hit and dropped to the ground, pretending to have been knocked out, though the stone had missed him by a good amount. Predictably the man rushed over to his position to finish him off. The moment the man was next to him he then dropped his deception and rolled to one side, onto his back. Before the man could recover from his surprise, Trazu did a reverse tumble, bringing him behind his attacker and back on his feet. Out came his sword, slashing across the back of one of the man’s knees, severing the ligaments. The man crumpled, screaming in pain and grasping his knee. Knowing this one was out of the fight, Trazu turned his attention to the other three, who by now realized he wasn’t such an easy target. He quickly realized one of them actually had a rifle.

Damn guns… Trazu thought as he dived out of the way of a rifle shot. He planted his hands on the ground and flipped himself over, landing on his feet again right in front of one of the other advancing pirates. Using the momentum from his flip, Trazu brought his sword straight down upon the man, slicing a deep cut down his torso and splitting open his belly. Quickly he pivoted, blocking another pirate’s strike with his sword: his counter strike cut threw the assailant’s staff cleanly.

“You need to check on the quality of your equipment…” Trazu taunted as he reversed his grip on his sword and then smashed the pommel into the pirate’s head, knocking him out cold. Three down, one to go: Trazu went for the rifleman then, who just barely missed hitting him with his next shot. The rifleman fired wildly, hoping to pick him off before he reached him: he should have ran instead. The rifleman tried to parry Trazu’s sword with his weapon, but a rifle makes a poor substitute, especially when one knew nothing about fighting melee. Scant moments later, the rifleman was dead, his head now absent from his body, his rifle slipping from his fingers.

“Guns…cowardly weapons…” Trazu grumbled, kicking the weapon in disgust.

“I agree.” A voice said. Trazu turned around sharply to see there was a fifth pirate, a male Trandoshan who was leaning against the downed speeder with his arms folded across his chest. “Guns are so…impersonal…” The male added. “I must say I am impressed by your fighting skills kid: those men were the best I had.”

Trazu narrowed his eyes, felling insulted at being called a ‘kid’, even though he had just used that assumption against the other pirates: it was a bit different when the one insulting you knew you were had to be an adult. Unfortunately it was a common thing when you were as short has he was. “If those were your best…I shudder to think how your worse are.” Trazu said, snarling faintly.

“Well…the best by a pirates standards.” The male chuckled. “They were far from the best by K’Satikur standards.”

K’Satikur…where have I heard that name before…. Trazu thought, searching his memory, but nothing coming up at the moment. All he did know was that it was obviously a Trandoshan Clan. “I don’t believe I’ve heard of ‘K’Satikur’ before…”

“Really?” The male looked a bit insulted. “Did you leave Trandosha right after you hatched or something kid? The K’Satikur was the most feared Clan on Trandosha…”

“’Was’?” Trazu said, quirking an eyebrow when he picked up on the past tense of that statement. “Sounds like they aren’t so feared now, they go soft?”

“Soft…” The male’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I’ll show you soft….” The Trandoshan unfolded his arms and Trazu was a bit intrigued at the male’s choice of weapon. On his right hand was a weapon rarely used by Trandoshans these days according to his instructors back home: a K'Zur, which was a glove with claws on each digit that were nearly a foot long each. The blades were thin, very sharp and capable of cutting through the toughest hide. On his left wrist was a thick metal bracer: no doubt used for blocking. “The Clan may be on the downside since I left it…but we are not soft!”

“I could use a challenge…” Trazu said, adopting a fighting stance. “Come on then…or are you all bluff?”

“Arrogant runt…” The male hissed as he charged him. “I will rip you to pieces!”

The first strike Trazu was able to block, but it left his teeth ringing. The male was much bigger and stronger then he was and would easily overwhelm him if he wasn’t careful. Trazu stayed on the defensive for the most part, aiming to have his larger opponent wear himself out. He did make an attack when he thought he saw an opening, but he was blocked every time. He was also getting minor wounds when he wasn’t quick enough to evade or block his opponent’s attacks. Nothing that would hinder him on their own, but minor wounds added up and as the fight continued they were starting to sap his strength. To make matters worse the guy seemed to have endless energy! For the first time Trazu feared he may lose this fight and a part of him wanted to flee before the fight became fatal for him. However, his pride and warrior’s spirit refused to run, knowing that fleeing now would forever mark him as a coward in this male’s eyes.

But am I not already a coward for fleeing our homeworld? He thought, barely parrying another attack. The sudden thought distracted too much needed focus at the task at hand and the male’s next attack, a punch to the face with his ungloved hand, took him by complete surprise. The blow spun him around, exposing his back to his opponent. Next thing Trazu knew, he as being lifted up into the air by the larger male’s armed hand, the blades the K’Zur biting into the flesh of his leg. Then he was flying, landing hard on the ground about five feet away and lost his grip on his sword, which landed a couple feet away. Winded, losing his strength, and cursing himself for getting distracted, Trazu was starting to wish he didn’t decide to play good samaritan.

“You would have made a good K’Satikur warrior runt…” He heard the male taunt. “If you were bigger and stronger. ‘Friad you are too small to amount to anything it seems. A pity really…you had potential going by your skill.”

“I…could care less about your stupid Clan.” Trazu said as he struggled to feet, the males insults biting deep. Finding his sword, he went back into a fighting stance, though he was a little shaky.

“You still want to fight?” The male laughed. “Look at yourself, you’re a bloody mess. You didn’t even land a blow on me. Face it runt…you would have been better off in one of the wussy professions…like art…or maybe you should join one of those freak shows instead: I’m sure people will pay to see those eyes of yours.”

That had hit one to many buttons and Trazu, seething in anger, felt the strength suddenly return to his limbs. With a loud growl of defiance, charged at his opponent at a pace his logical mind found hard to believe. With each step his mind went hazy and unfocused as blind rage and the urge to spill blood took over him completely.


When he ‘came too’ he was surprised to see he was actually standing. What was more surprising was to see that his opponent was now dead, cut to pieces and his own clawed glove impaled in his chest: his hand was still inside it. The pirates he hadn’t actually killed yet were also dead now as well, their bodies cut and slashed so many times they were beyond recognition.

Trazu looked around, wondering who had done this: he certainly didn’t remember doing it, but he didn’t see anyone else nearby. He looked at himself to find he was covered with blood, some of his own, but most of it not.

What happened? He thought. Did I do this? How?

He didn’t have time to ponder about it long, as a wave of exhaustion unlike what he had ever felt before washed over him. He staggered once; then fell, falling asleep almost as soon as he hit the ground.

You don't know how difficult it was figuring out how to write this chap in such a way that you still knew what was going on...but didn't break any forum rules (I was aiming for this effect anyway, so the forum rules were not the only reason). ><

****

Chapter 3: Unexpected Company

Trazu recalled everything that happened during his ‘black out’ while he slept and what he remembered was horrifying. He had practically turned into a savage beast, attacking his enemies ruthlessly and with a level of furiousity he never knew was in him before. He had moved so quickly that the other Trandoshan couldn’t even get a bead on him and was helpless when he practically tore him to pieces. There was the look of sheer terror on all of his victim’s faces, especially on the other Trandoshan’s: it seemed he knew about the state Trazu had gone into, but sadly he was now dead thus was no longer ‘available’ to explain it.

He couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if he had been in a more populated area. Would he have started to attack innocents as well? Something very deep inside him he felt ‘smile’ at that very prospect. With a mental cry of both disgust and fear he buried that ‘something’ even deeper into his subconscious.

As his mind became aware of the outside world again, he immediately knew something wasn't right. He could hear the sounds of a campfire, which meant he was in someone’s camp: certainly couldn't be his own since he hadn't set one up yet today. Whose camp was it? Did it belong to buddies of the pirates he just slaughtered? Cautiously he opened his eyes, to be greeted by the pin point lights of the stars above.

Damn. He thought. I was out that long? When he had attacked the pirates it was just past noon: it seemed he literally slept the rest of the day away. Wanting to know who and what was around him, he carefully tested his limbs. He quickly found that every ounce of his body ached, both due to all the wounds he had received and the fact he hadn’t fought that hard in a long time. Forcing himself to sit up, he winced in pain from his wounds and for the first time noticed he was clean, his wounds were bandaged and there was a blanket covering him. That was a relief for it meant he wasn't in a pirate camp: they were more likely to just kill him and when they did take prisoners they didn't bother to tend to their wounds from what he heard. So who helped him?

Trazu looked around a bit and spied a figure sitting next to the campfire. It was a female Trandoshan, who was poking at the fire with a large stick. The light from the fire made it a little difficult to determine details, but she looked like she had golden green scales and orange eyes and she wore an off white tunic like suit with a red cloth belt around her waist. At first he could only stare at her, for his was female of his kind he had seen for over seven years.

“You can stop staring kid.” The female suddenly snapped, giving him an annoyed look.

"I am not a kid." Trazu said with a faint growl. “And who are you?”

"Really?" The female said, ignoring his question. "You look like you still got some growing to do."

"I can not help being a bit...vertically challenged." Trazu said, folding his arms. "Where did you come from anyway? I thought females don't leave Trandosha."

She snorted. “Where the heck did you get that notion? There are more of us off planet then you think.” She said, looking a bit insulted by his comment, which Trazu felt was good payback for the height insult she laid on him earlier. "Anyway I was on a delivery mission when those...thugs...ambushed me and disabled my speeder. I would have been dead, but that male brute of a T'Doshok wanted to take me back to their main camp so he could have some ‘fun’ with me if you get my drift. I think he was considering starting that a bit early when you came along."

“How come I didn’t see you before hand?” Trazu asked. If he had known she was there, he would have made his attack on the pirates a bit differently. Hostage situations tended to complicate matters, however that male Trandoshan never used her against him for some reason. Remembering that he was nearly killed by that male he assumed he didn’t because he felt he didn’t need to use her.

“Same reason you didn’t see that T’Doshok brute at first.” She replied. “We were behind the speeder, down at the base of the decline that was just beyond it.” She gave a dramatic sigh. "I would have reached Dearic by nightfall if it wasn't for them."

"Dearic?" Trazu said, rubbing his chin. "That's only about a day and a half's hike to the north from here."

The female groaned. "That's far..."

"Not really. I travel that kind of distance all the time. I probably head there anyway once I’ve recovered a bit. That fight ripped up my clothing a bit so I should get them patched up, or replaced: don’t want to go wandering the country side naked after all.”

The females eyes seemed to gleem a bit at that comment, but it disappeared as quickly as it appeared. “Judging by your equipment…you’re a scout?”

"Ranger." Trazu corrected, not sure if he should be upset at her for going through his things or not.

"Same difference to me." The female said with a shrug. "So are you offering to escort me the rest of the way?” she asked, her expression hopeful.

Trazu laughed. “Well, I could if you are willing to wait a couple of days for me to heal up enough to travel.” He said. “That bastard did a number on me.”

“Well, you did an even worse number on him.” She countered. Trazu could have sworn he caught a disappointed, if not angry, edge to her voice. “And this delivery is a bit time sensitive, so I don’t know if I can wait.”

“Well if you can’t wait Dearic is that way.” Trazu pointed in the direction Dearic was. “I’m not going to risk traveling in my condition if I can help it.”

“Oh puh-lease…other then the wound on your leg most of your injuries are minor. I bet you’ll be walking again by morning.”

“Maybe, but I am not one to take unnecessary risks.” Trazu said laying back down.

“So says a short ass that just took on a K’Satikur warrior of all things.” The female said with a faint snarl. “Only stupid people or those with a death wish take one of them on.”

“For your information…” Trazu propped himself up on one elbow. “To the best of my recollection today was the first time I have even heard of this ‘K’Satikur’ clan, so how was I supposed to know to just run away like a dog with it’s tail between it’s legs?”

“He did warn you.”

“So I thought it was all bluff. The point is moot anyway: he’s dead…I’m alive. Now please…if you still want me to escort you shut up and let me heal up and sleep. If not, let me rest anyway.” To make it clear the discussion was over he laid back down again and turned his back to her.

He heard another snarl from her but he ignored it. It did dawn on him that he was being rather snappy at her, despite the fact she did help him. However he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable around her and he couldn’t pinpoint why. Was it because she was the first female he’s ever been this close to and his attitude was due to not knowing how exactly to act toward her? No, it was something else he felt, but what?

“You must get…’lonely’…being out here by yourself.” He heard the female say, much closer then before.

His sense of discomfort went up a notch: he did not like the tone her voice had. “The life of a Ranger is one of solitude. “ He said, refusing to look at her. “Being alone is not only accepted, but practically required.”

“Surely you take advantage of chance visits every once in a while.” He felt her drag a claw down the middle of his back, making him shudder involuntarily. It was obvious what she wanted and while Trazu was physically mature he wasn’t mentally ready for such a thing.

“I’m not interested.” He said stiffly, pulling the blanket over himself to further the point. “Besides seducing me won’t get you to Dearic any faster.”

“But it’ll be fun.” She insisted. “Come on now think about it. Since this ‘ranger’ life is supposed to be so lonely you wouldn’t have as many opportunities to get it on now wouldn’t you? Heck this may be your only chance.”

“You seem to forget that when our people want to ‘get it on’ they must prove themselves worthy of it at first and return home. Even then it’s never for the ‘fun’ of it.” Trazu said with a snarl, his whole body tense: he just wanted her to go away and leave him alone. “I said ‘no’ and that’s final.”

There was a frustrated sigh. “Just my luck you’re one of those boring old fashioned types.” He heard her say. “So let’s try it this way then…” Suddenly he felt something hard and sharp against his back. Trazu froze, not daring to move, his eyes wide with shock. He didn’t need her to actually say the threat as it was obvious: if he didn’t do as she wanted she would kill him.

“You’re….that desperate…” He said quietly as he tried to think of how to get out of this mess. There was little doubt she was using his own sword against him: she had plenty of opportunity to secure it while he was out cold, and it would be difficult if not impossible to disarm her in his current condition. Even if he wasn’t injured it would be difficult, for he had very little in the way of unarmed fighting skills. “Why didn’t you ‘satisfy’ yourself while I was out cold?”

“Please, I have more class then that.” She said. “Besides I was hoping not to resort to this….but you are a stubborn one. The male you killed earlier wasn’t so old fashioned, but you had to come along and kill him.”

Trazu glanced over his shoulder at her, noting she was already partly undressed. “So that little ambush story was untrue…”

“Oh the part about getting jumped by them was true.” She said, a rather cold look on her face. “But a girl like me knows and opportunity when she sees one and their leader agreed I could be of use to them. I had the potential to make a lot more credits and have fun doing it with them then running stupid, boring delivery jobs. But no…you had to come along and ‘save’ me, leaving me unsatisfied.”

He felt the point of the sword disappear and he knew if he was going to act he needed to act now. Gripping the blanket with one hand he suddenly threw it off himself toward the female. She gasped in surprise as it covered her and Trazu sprang to his feet and attempted to bolt. He didn’t like running, but lacking control of his sword and being injured as he was, it was his only option to save his dignity and prevent a great act of shame from being committed to him against his will.

However fate seemed to be against him tonight, for he had taken no more then two steps when his leg gave out from under him. Pain erupted in that leg when the wounds reopened, fresh crimson blood staining the bandage covering them. Swallowing his desire to scream, he forced himself up upon his hands and knees, only to be violently grabbed by the neck and pulled upward.

“Cute.” The female hissed, putting him into a headlock. Trazu saw a brief flash as she brought the sword up, dangerously close to his face. “Very cute. Good try kid, but I am going to get what I want…and you’re going to give it to me.”


She was thankfully gone the next morning, but what she had done to him left him badly shaken. That morning he could only gather his belongings and leave the area in a state of numb shock: he didn’t want to believe what happened last night really had happened. The going was slow due to his injuries, but pure determination to leave the scene of that terrible event allowed him to block out the pain. It was later on, after he found a river to set up camp next to, that it started to sink in fully. He practically ripped off his clothes and jumped into the river. Ignoring the biting chill of the water he ripped off the bandages scrubbed himself viciously, wanting to remove and wash away any and all reminders of her. Finally the pain, both mental and physical, was too much and he collapsed against a large rock, sobbing heavily.

He tried telling himself it wasn’t his fault, that the cards had happened to be stacked against him that day and he did everything he could do to prevent it. However the feeling of helplessness and fear she poured into him was overwhelming and his self confidence and pride was left badly damaged. He had discovered another negative thing about living the life of a Ranger as well: when something this bad happened there was no one around to help or console you afterward. Never in his life had he felt so isolated and alone, but fear of mockery and what pride was left in his soul kept him from wanting to seek out others for comfort.

Thus he only had himself for comfort….

Chapter 4: Unusual Professions

The fire burned hot and the meat sizzled as it cooked, filling the air with a delicious aroma and making Trazu’s stomach grumble. Trazu knew the hunk of meat he had on the improvised spit wasn’t ready yet though, so he ignored his stomachs pleas to be fed for the time being, busying himself by stretching the skin he had just skinned off of a paralope along the frame he made. He had been doing a lot of ‘busy’ work like this as of late, in part due to the season and to help him keep his mind off that ‘incident’ he experienced a few months back, the memory of it stubbornly refusing to stay buried in the back of his mind completely.

The past few months had been hard on him emotionally. Confusing and conflicting thoughts had been swirling in his head trying to figure out just who to blame, if anyone, and what he did to deserve such a thing. There was of course, no real answer and eventually the questions and bouts of self doubt started to fade, only to be renewed occasionally when the memory came back to him in a flashback or nightmare.

It had taken him a while to get back to a ‘normal’ routine as well. For the first month or so he was extremely paranoid, avoiding any and all contact with other sentient life: he hadn’t even knocked off any thugs during this time. Slowly he had come to realize it was silly to avoid everyone, even if his Ranger lifestyle easily allowed him to do so, and gradually started getting comfortable around people again. It was still hard though and he honestly didn’t know how he would react if he came across another Trandoshan female: he wasn’t even sure how’d he react if he happened upon her again. One thing was for certain: some of his fear had turned to anger and because of that he wasn’t sure if he would run from her or just kill her outright.

The scent of charred flesh reached his nose and he realized he had let the meat cook a little too long. After setting down the frame he quickly removed the spit and inspected his meal. It was a bit charred on one side but was still editable, so he settled down and started eating.

As he ate he looked over at the small pile of skins he had gathered over the last month or so. Usually the skins he gathered were used to replace the fabric on his simple tent and blanket, but occasionally if the season had been good and the skins were of good quality he would stockpile a few to sell at the bazaar in Dearic. The skin he was stretching and drying today was the last one he intended to collect before going to Dearic, which was only a half days journey away. This along with any credits he looted off the thugs he killed were his main source of income, but since he owned no land or property that was taxable his bank account just kept growing, with the exception of the times he had to purchase or repair things.

As he bit into the hunk of meat he paused a moment when he thought he heard something. His pause was only for a split second, but enough for anyone that was observant would know he was now fully alert to his surroundings. Though he continued to eat at a normal pace, his eyes scanned the brush beyond his little camp. There. Movement. He spotted a slight rustle in the bush that was just behind his pile of skins. Pretending to not have noticed the disturbance, he watched the spot and slowly he realized one of his skins was being pulled away. With a barely audible snarl he reached down with one hand, picked up a decent sized stone and hurled it at the spot. There was a yelp of surprise as a result.

“Most thieves attempt to steal things of more immediate value.” Trazu snarled, lowering the spit for a moment. “I suggest you show yourself before I am forced to hunt you down. It won’t be a pleasant experience for you if it comes to that I promise you.” For a moment the only sound and movement was from the fire, then the head of another Trandoshan poked out of the bush.

Trazu felt his muscles tighten: it was female, though thankfully not the same one as before. Her scales were slightly dark yellow ochre and her eyes were a pale gold, which was a less common coloration for his people. Even though it wasn’t the same female, he felt a surge of fear and panic and had to fight to keep himself from running: apparently he wasn’t as over it as he thought he was.

“You look as though you never seen a female of our race before.” The female said, her voice low and a slightly submissive.

“Whether I have or not is none of your business.” Trazu said sharply and defensively. “Why are you trying to steal my skins? Animal hides are not worth that much in raw form.”

“I wasn’t going to sell them…”

Trazu raised a brow. “Then want for? To make yourself some clothing out of them? If you need clothing there are charities in Dearic that would give you some at no cost.”

“To make cloths yes…but not for myself.” She stepped out fully and Trazu could see she was fully clothed, though her clothing was a bit tattered and patchy. He watched as she sat at the fire opposite of him, his hand checking to ensure his sword was close at hand subconsciously. “It’s so I can get my tailoring business up and going…”

Despite his tension and paranoia, that stuck him as rather funny. His chuckles rapidly become full blown laughter and he had a hard time keeping himself from falling over. Trandoshan hands were ill suited for manipulating small objects thanks to their large claws: the image of a Trandoshan trying to sow was just plain laughable.

“My mother is a tailor.” The female growled, looking thoroughly insulted. “She runs her own shop back home.”

“If that’s so…” Trazu said after he managed to calm himself down. “Why aren’t you helping her with her shop?”

“I was. But mother wanted to see how viable it would be to expand our business to include clothing styles from other races. So she sent me and my sister off planet to study other styles and start up a small scale shop.” She sighed and cast her eyes toward the ground. “However, for some reason dear mother left my sister in charge of the funds she loaned us…and before I knew it she had spent it all on late night parties, leaving us both broke and stranded on this planet. I took up a job as a waitress at the Cantina in Narshall to build up enough credits to get us back home or at least to Corillia where the job market is better, but my sister ran off a few months ago, claiming to have taken a one time stint to deliver something to Dearic. I haven’t seen her since.”

Trazu’s eyes narrowed: the last part of her story got his full attention. Was it possible these two were related? “Did your…’sister’…happen to have golden green scales and orange eyes?” He in a faint snarl.

The female looked a bit taken back, whether it was due to his question, his hostile tone, or both who knows. “Yes…you met her? If so…do you know where she is?” She asked, a bit hesitantly.

“Yes I met her…” Trazu said with a scowl. “…and no I don’t know where she is now. She could’ve been eaten by a Torton for all I care.”

“Sounds like your experience with her was a bit…negative…”

“Gee whatever gave you that idea?” He growled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “If you want my guess on where your skragging sister is she’s likely with the Binyates: she’ll fit right in with those scumbags.”

“The pirates…” She looked a bit shocked. “I…knew her to be a bit reckless, rebellious even…but to join a pirate gang…I just can’t see it.”

“Boy are you naïve…”

“Hey! I can’t watch my sister all hours of the day you know, nor do I want to.” She spat. “I find some of her forms of ‘entertainment’ disgusting to be honest.”

“We actually agree there miss.” Trazu returned to eating his meal, which had gone cool due to the interruption. He watched her as he ate, noting she kept looking at his food. She did look a bit on the thin side, which likely meant she hadn’t eaten well as of late. Wasn’t his problem he felt, though something else about her bothered him, starting to drive him crazy with anxiety actually. “Just say it and get it over with.” He growled finally between mouthfuls.

The female looked confused. “Say what?” She asked.

“I know you’re going to say it, everyone that met me has so just say it and be done with it.”

She spread her hands helplessly. “I honestly don’t know what you are talking about.”

“You blind as well as stupid lady?”

She growled at him, then surprised him by saying. “I am not blind, I just don’t judge people by their appearance. Though I will admit your attitude is starting to make me wonder about your mental age.”

He winced, realizing he was being a bit of an ass when she didn’t deserve it: the fact he actually hadn’t held a conversation with someone for a while didn’t help. “Sorry.” He said with a sigh, releasing the spit with one hand and letting that end drop a bit. “I have a hard time being comfortable around others these days, due to…” He stopped and shook his head. No he will not tell a complete stranger about that . “You’re only the second person that didn’t make an assumption about me based on my appearance.” He said, changing the subject slightly. “It happened so often that I just automatically think everyone will make that assumption.”

The female nodded sympathically. “I can only imagine the pain you had to go through growing up. I am a bit surprised you made it this far, considering how our people like to cast out those that are drastically different then what’s considered the ‘norm’.”

“I have wondered about that myself.” Trazu admitted. “Beyond the teasing I was pretty much left alone. Still, it was more then I could….wait a minute, just why am I telling you all this? I don’t even know you.”

“Tzosha. My name’s Tzosha.” She said. “There, now you know me.”

“Knowing your name does not mean I know you.” Trazu said, rolling his eyes. “Just means I have a name to go with the face now.”

“It’s a start isn’t it?”

“What makes you think I even want to get to know you?”

“I suppose not…” Tzosha sighed. “Especially since I just attempted to steal from you.”

“Be lucky I didn’t just kill you.” Trazu said bluntly. “I kill thugs on sight normally, it’s something of a hobby of mine.”

“A vigilante? Aren’t there laws against taking the law into your own hands?”

“There supposedly is, but first off the police force on this planet is so corrupt it’s a wonder the planet isn’t a pirate stronghold. Second the government seems to care less what I do to the common thug: they figure if it keeps them from having to spend money on them it’s just fine and dandy.”

“Sounds like this wouldn’t be a good place to set up a tailoring shop: seems like I am more likely to be robbed then get customers.”

“Considering what you were trying to pull a minute ago I doubt you would get it off the ground anyway.”

“I’m desperate ok? I want to go home and tell my mother what happened, but I don’t want to be branded a failure either, even if it is my sisters fault. I don’t even have an apartment and the Cantina in Dearic won’t have me unless I have a place of residence. I would go back to Narshal but I don’t have the credits to pay for transport.”

“There are other places to find work besides Cantinas you know…”

“No one’s hiring…I checked…”

“Considering how scrappy your clothes look I doubt many would hire you anyway…save for garbage pick up maybe…”

Tzosha scowled. “Your clothes aren’t exactly ‘pristine’ either buster.”

“But as a Ranger that is perfectly acceptable.” He countered, smuggly. “We’re supposed to be ‘rugged’ looking.”

“I doubt even a Ranger would let his clothing get so tattered and hole ridden that they wouldn’t even be good for dishwashing.”

Trazu scowled at her for a moment, then sighed and leaned back against a tree, setting the spit back over the fire. He lifted up one edge of his jacket and inspected it: the normally black leather was starting to turn brown in many places due to decay and wear and tear. It also had many holes in it, many of them the result of that fight with the male Trandoshan a few months back. Normally he wouldn’t have let his clothes go like this, but his mental state of the past few months had given him very little motivation to go to town to get them patched up. “Alright you got me there.” He admitted. He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it at her. “Get to work.”

“Wha…you expect me to fix this?” Tzosha said, holding it up in disgust. “You’d be better off just replacing it with a new one.”

“Look I still find it hard to believe you’re a tailor, so prove it. If you impress me I may be able to help you in some way. How is for me to decide, if I decide to help you at all.”

Tzosha growled, but didn’t argue and Trazu watched as she took a small sewing kit out of her bag and got to work.

I think I need to expand on this chap a bit...but not sure how without making the story seem to drag. I also finally got something of a title for it: 'a Trandoshan's Tale: Purpose'. However I am not that keen on the 'Purpose' part of the title....any suggestions?

~~~

Chapter 5: Admission

She not only impressed him with her sewing ability, but solved a little mystery he was curious about. For some time he wondered just how his people did more delicate work, such as surgery and some of the mechanical works, and assumed they just had robots or slaves do it. Tzosha, however, demonstrated that wasn’t always the case: to manipulate the needle she used a highly specialized tool that resembled a cross between a pair of scissors and tweezers. At first he felt the tool looked a bit clumsy to use, but she had made it look easy and her stitch work was so good the only reason he could even see it was because she didn’t have any black thread and was forced to use white.

A part of him was a bit upset that he had been proven wrong and he almost decided not to help her for that very reason. However he ultimately didn’t let his pride and ego override his sense of honor, so he invited her to come with him into Dearic so he could figure out how to help her out a bit.

Once in Dearic he took her to a little shop he usually went to when he needed to get his clothes repaired or replaced. It was only his intention to get a replacement jacket for himself, Tzosha had done everything she could but ultimately the jacket was beyond hope, and new set of clothes for her. However she and the shopkeeper started talking, casually at first but the conversation quickly turned to business, and the guy ended up hiring her.

Trazu checked up on her regularly after that, noticing an increase of business to the shop since then. He also noticed the increase of confidence in her, especially when she found a low rent apartment to stay in after she earned her first paycheck. The two also became good friends as time went on: Tzosha’s boss sometimes joked that they made a cute couple. Trazu was always quick to blow that joke off, though he admitted, if only to himself, that he couldn’t help but feel eager to see her after being away for a while.

Lately, he had been staying extended periods of time at her place, usually sitting on the balcony talking. Tzosha did make the offer a few times for him to stay the night, but Trazu always refused, citing he never really felt comfortable sleeping indoors. In reality, he just wasn’t comfortable sleeping when there was a female close by. Though he knew by now Tzosha would never do such a thing, that irrational fear was not so easy to beat: he even flinched whenever she touched him. He didn’t know for sure if she noticed his unease at being touched by her and if she was to question him on it he wasn’t sure how he would answer. His mind was full of conflicting emotions and instincts: one side longing for company, the other wanting to run away from it all.

As time past, the longing side was gradually gaining ground.

“So Rane was like a father figure to you.” Tzosha said. The pair were sitting on the balcony bench watching the sunset. Trazu had just told her about his human mentor, even going as far as to tell her how much he missed him.

“Yeah, he was the closest thing I could refer to as a father in my life.” Trazu said leaning back against the wall.

“Must have been hard, not knowing who your father is. Rather odd no one told you: usually they tell you by the time your five.”

Trazu shrugged. “I’ve done well so far without knowing. Though I admit I am curious, I am not sure I even want to know.”

“Why is that?”

“Well.” Trazu straightened up. “I always had the feeling my instructors knew who sired me, or at least who dropped me off. Yet they never mentioned anything about it to me. It was just me too, everyone else in the class knew who their fathers were…and which Clan they would go to once they graduated from the class. They didn’t tell me anything, it’s like they had a gag order on them or something.” He sighed. “I don’t know…maybe my parents felt I didn’t deserve to know…considering…”

“Oh don’t start that again.” Tzosha chided. “That is the most obvious possible explanation yes, but not necessarily true. It could be they were silent to protect your life instead.”

“Hmm…true. How our people deal with rivals is rather violent…but that would imply I was the son of someone important: the everyday commoner is pretty much safe from shit like that.”

Tzosha shrugged. “Who knows. Maybe you should return to Dosha and try to find out someday.”

“I would…but I can’t really be bothered to be honest. Why make my life more complex then it is?”

“Well if you are the child of someone important, I wouldn’t be surprised if they came around looking for you. Who knows, maybe they are looking for you now.”

Trazu shrugged. “If they do I’ll deal with it then…not one moment before…”

“Lazy bugger.” T’zosha said, poking him.

Trazu just chuckled and leaned back against the wall again.

“By the way…there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask.” She said after a moment.

“What’s that?” Trazu said, looking over at her.

“You flinch every time I touch you, even when you know it’s me: it’s like you have an aversion to being touched. Why is that?”

Trazu visibly winced and cast his eyes toward the ground. “I didn’t use to…” He said quietly, straightening up again. “But a certain ‘event’ changed that…”

“Wha…what happened?” Tzosha asked quietly.

He looked away, the memory of that incident assaulting his mind. While it didn’t bother him as much now as it did before, it was still very distressing and he worried about how Tzosha would react if he told her. He valued her as a friend and feared the news would turn her against him, as impossible as that seemed since she had spoken harshly about that person herself: blood was thicker then water after all. Plus there was that stigma on people who’d experienced what he did, especially with males, that he’d have to worry about: would she look down upon him now due to this revelation?

“If you’re uncomfortable about it you don’t have to tell me.” Tzosha said softly.

“No…” Trazu said, shaking his head and looking back up at her. “You need to know. I…” He swallowed hard, took a deep breath and with a bit of effort just let it out. “I was raped…Tzosha.”

Her reaction was one of pure shock: her posture straightened suddenly and her eyes widened, the pupils of which constricted to slits. “My sister…?” she asked after a long moment of silence. Trazu simply nodded and she shook her head, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. “That’s worse then joining the pirates…I’d never thought…” She sighed. “Never mind…you were right that day we first met: I am naïve…”

“No more naïve then I…” Trazu admitted quietly, looking at the ground. “I was overconfident with my abilities that day…ended up getting hurt to the point where there was little I could do to protect myself. All she had to do was to take my sword and threaten me with it…” He sighed. “It’s a terrible feeling to be forced to choose between honor and dignity and ones own life. Life won that night…but there were times I wondered if I made the wrong choice…”

“I can’t imagine was it’s like to go through that…” Tzosha said softly. “I wish I knew what to do to help you…”

“You already have helped me.” He said, looking up at her. “By proving to my subconscious that not all females were like your sister and helping me get used to being around people again: it would have taken me a lot longer if I hadn’t met you.”

Tzosha smiled and gently placed her hand on top of his. “If that’s true, then I hope to continue to help you heal.” She said softly. “If you let me of course.”

Trazu managed a small smile. “I don’t see why not…thank you.”

Chapter 2: Liked the flashback bit
Chapter 3: Loved every part of it! imo your fic really pics up with the new characters.
Chapter 4: Continuing the great characterization... but I sense a loss of "time".. What is the span of "time" that occurs in Chapter 4?

I like the dialogue. It shows more depth than the going around killing people.



A Trandoshan's Tale: Humble Beginnings

Trandoshan Heart
Trandoshan Soul

A Trandoshan Tale: Undiscovered Hunts

or perhaps "The Undiscovered Hunt".. .heh.. bit of a Shakespearian flair.


Sorry it took so long to get back to this. Was diagnosed with diabetes and so my time has been rather limited.

You are a very talented writer.


I recently read Tales of the Bounty Hunters and finally caught a clue as to who/what a Trandoshan was.. lol.

"What is the span of "time" that occurs in Chapter 4?"

A few months, as explained in the second and third paragraphs. Unless you mean Chap 5...which I agree there was no 'sense of time' there: my mistake.

Thanks for the suggestions, though I probably won't know how to title it for sure until I finish this one. I do know what the next fic will be called though: 'A Trandoshan's Tale: Heritage'

NP, I wish you luck with your condition. I know diabetes is nothing to laugh about...

Thank you :)

Heh, I read the Bounty Hunter Wars series to get a better insight on Trandos, have yet to read any other SW books though.