The perilous wetlands of Naboo promoted survival instinct, independence, and the ability to adapt under pressure. These crucial traits were systematically bled from its native people in baleful warfare and enslavement. Gungan camps suffered invasion daily, with a flood of newly subdued thralls filling Lianorm by the dozens. When detained, their weapons and goods were confiscated. All they held sacred regarding fighting and survival was uprooted in favor of obedience and fear. The once thriving and unbound species was all but drained of life. The slavers to blame only clamored for the day when every living gungan was under their control, and their land seized.
Dating back to the arrival of the reptilian Elder race on the lush, green planet, they were constantly at odds with the indigenous gungans. Their initial small-scale conflicts amplified over time into all out war. As the Elders advanced their technology to surpass that of the simpler amphibians, they incorporated slavery into their strategy.
The gungans carried out numerous tasks at their slavers' beck and call. The most hardened members of a tribe were used as soldiers and blacksmiths. They crafted smooth, dark, and adamant durasteel weapons and armor for the larger than average, scaled Elder warriors of Halford. Those who the Elders dismissed as too weak to fight tended to the farms, gardens, and infirmaries of each city.
To the uninitiated, directing a proud species such as the gungans to live in subservience and fight against their own may seem an unwise course of action. The Elders were cunning however, and understood the extent of the swamp people's faith. The gungans never gave up hope that they'd one day break the walls of their captors, and that very hope was used to shackle them for twenty odd years.
The day Sarth was made a colonel, his superior, General Kazith, delivered him an important piece of advice.
"Remember that in war, victory is achieved not only through strength and conviction, but also through closing your heart to the suffering of your enemies. If we allow ourselves to feel for them, our resolve will weaken, and we will be vanquished. Make no mistake." It was a familiar lecture. Sarth had heard it as a cadet, and the strident, hubristic rhythm in the general's voice still rang in his ears. Listening this time however, the speech held a different weight. Slavery was ushered into Elder society by now, a practice their ancestors and religion strictly forbade. Sarth wondered if he could refer to a quiescent servant as an enemy.
Not far from the two soldiers, three gungan children scampered along the path away from their designated huts. Their excitement resonated in their tiny voices, which echoed through the village to the bemusement of the slavers nearby. A hooded reptilian figure gravitated to the children wielding a long, flexible, and electrified durasteel chain attached to a powered dedlanite grip. He whipped the chain to the ground close to one of the children's feet, startling the young amphibian. A panicked, middle-aged gungan woman hurried to the child.
"Pleasa don't hurt them! Wesa take them back home," cried the woman to the robed slaver. He stood tall but hunched, and hobbled closer to the gungan. His sharp, yellow eyes penetrated hers as he glared with a squint.
"You should have kept them back to begin with," the man growled. "And now you tell me what to do, slave?" He reeled his arm holding the chain back once again. Before he could strike the defenseless woman, his wrist was ensnared by the grip of a much larger Elder general. Kazith stood at just over three metres, which was impressive, even for an Elder. His overlong claws clasped around the slaver's arm and dragged it closer to his inflated chest.
"Try that on someone with experience first," Kazith snarled, and released the hooded slaver's arm from his clutches. He nodded at the gungans, signaling permission to leave. The children dashed home. The woman, close behind, glanced back at the general curiously, before following the young.
The aging gungan was met by another, who positioned her hands on the older woman's shoulders and gently vibrated them forward and back.
"Tha-Tha, what happened out dalee? Wassa my boys harmed?" She asked with obvious distress in her voice. Tha-Tha, the older of the two adults, grasped her hand, and spoke in a reassuring whisper.
"Daysa just fine, Geesa," she assured, "Daysa went outta bounds, but is safe now." The frantic young woman rushed to embrace her two sons while Tha-Tha snagged the other boy by his collar, and gently shoved him into a dainty leather tent.
"What yousa thinking, Jin-Jin?" She barked at the adolescent Jin-Jeri.
"But mother, I-" he tried to communicate.
"Yousan your friends could have been hurt," interrupted the woman. "That, or worse." Tha-Tha kneeled to match the child's eye level and held his hand inside her own. "Promise mesa yous won't do that again, Jin. I couldn't bear to lose you." The boy scanned his mother's hand and noticed the tip of a long, red, burn scar poking out of her sleeve. As he examined the mark more closely, he detected a chain-link shaped imprint within. His heart plunged into the pit of his stomach.
"I promise, mother," weeped Jin, pressing his head to her waist. She smiled and rubbed the trembling child's head in a consoling embrace.
"Yousa no have to fear," she affirmed. "Yousa have family. Simass, mesa, and yousa." She traced her limp finger from her chest to the tip of Jin's tiny bill. Then she held the glandular bill firm in her palm. "Lasfa tees nosa lai. Do you know what that means?" The boy shook his head inquisitively. "Isa old saying from our people; family ties never die."
Some days later, Tha-Tha and her two children were taken to Halford to serve guests at the arena for the finals of a high-profile melee tournament in the city. All around the durasteel-plated streets surrounding the arena, the proud citizens beamed with feral excitement in anticipation of the upcoming sport.
The Laikor Arena soared high above most other structures in the capital. The building was constructed entirely of dedlanite, making it the most expensive architecture in Halford. Laikor existed in Elder legend as the god of contest. The Elders were a people of competition, always looking for something to conquer. Sometimes, that entailed conquering each other.
Shiny, steel-like, silver tile stretched across the floor of the lobby inside the arena. The walls were decorated with plaques composed of two crossed battle-axes with the Elder emblem in between; a silhouette shaped like the head of a reptile shrouded by a rising flame. Between the plaques hung radiant, silk banners that extended from ceiling to floor. The arena floor itself was composed of sand, with several fragmented stone pillars scattered throughout. People lined up from all corners of Naboo save for the swamps, including some of the human residents of Theed. Jin-Jeri delivered coveted Elder delicacies to the impatient attendants.
After a while, a group of six robed Elders strolled onto the arena floor, and all cheering halted, as the attendants bowed their heads in respect. The robed figures all chanted in a mesmerizing unison. They spoke in old Elderan; a primitive, hissing tongue. The young gungan boy paused his deliveries briefly to see what transpired next. High above the arena floor, a scrawny, caped Elder donning a crown atop his rigid, yellow skull pranced onto a large balcony, joined by four much larger armed men. The regal young man lunged his arm forward to greet his people, and shouted in their ancient words, ceasing the chant. Jin-Jeri marveled in the sight of royalty, having never seen King Rakzeth of the Elders before in his short life.
The robed men fled the arena floor, and the crowd roared from their seats, pounding on any furniture they could. A svelt reptilian with bright, red scales strode onto the floor; a younger Slax with both eyes in tact. The man carried the swagger of a conquering hero. His chest was bare, with several small scars panning across his torso. His arrogance radiated through the arena. Another reptilian entered opposite to him. This man had pale, green scales with pointy ridges that lined his entire body. He towered over the young warrior, who held his form firm and stared intently at his impending opponent. The sight of the two contestants intensified the screams from the audience.
The king rose to address his combatants. He introduced the warriors in a slithering Elderan cadence. A man standing adjacent to Rakzeth blew into a long, slim horn that resonated throughout the building. The cheers from the fans erupted as the duel was declared underway.
The two brutish reptiles circled around each other with heavy grunts and stares that could impale. The larger, green Elder opened the contest with a swipe of his claw-tipped hand that narrowly missed his opponent. Slax crouched under the strike and countered with a swift combination that ended with a kick to the inner knee, sending the adversary reeling before regaining a neutral stance. He charged with a follow-up attack and missed, but was able to lure the powerhouse into lunging forward, allowing him to shift his weight and land a devastating kick to the side of his muscular neck. The green Elder adapted his strategy, opting for a more defensive stance. He studied Slax's movements while the more agile fighter danced around him. Predicting the red-scaled man's move, he caught an incoming kick directed toward his temple, punted the endangered Slax in the shin, and delivered a bludgeoning left hand to his face, driving him into the sand. He yanked the man back to his feet, brought him close to his chest, and charged forward, bashing him into a stone pillar. Slax fainted and his body gracefully slid down the pillar.
The noise from the crowd transformed from thunderous cheers to abrupt gasps. The hulking warrior hovered over his crumpled opponent, who was still trying to regain his balance, and dragged him from the ground by his neck. As his grip tightened, Slax thrust his fists into his assailant's abdomen one after the other. The green reptilian joined his other hand around Slax's throat and furiously clenched his grasp deeper. An exasperated Slax never relented, delivering a flurry of vigorous blows to the now bruising midsection.
Slax eventually won the game of chicken, with his opponent relinquishing his hold in reaction to the pain in his ribs. Slax moved much slower now, but still outmaneuvered the larger man who struggled to breathe due to his injuries. Slax advanced one final time with purpose. He weaved away from a weak jab and mercilessly bludgeoned the fighter's midsection with three vicious uppercuts, the last of which reverberated throughout his spine, causing him to cough dark green blood and collapse to his knees. Before he could react, Slax spun around behind him and placed one hand on the top of his head, with the other positioned under his chin.
"Your life belongs to me now," Slax declared. The audience rallied in celebration as Slax achieved victory over his bulkier opponent. A spectating Jin-Jeri was hypnotized by the dominant display he'd witnessed.
The child was always fascinated by combat, and even picked fights with his young gungan peers on occasion. Conflict pulsated within his heart virtually from birth, to his mother's regret. Tha-Tha lamented the dark side of her youngest child, but couldn't deny her role in the boy's suffering. Indeed, she made a choice that ultimately led to the enslavement of herself, a very young Simass, and her unborn child, and accepted that responsibility. She feared that the boy would grow to resent her for his fate, or worse, that his hatred would consume him and define his future. She prayed that he would escape the imprisonment forced unto him and fulfill his potential.
The Elders noticed Jin-Jeri's absence, and called to the slave, who was distracted by the spectacle. An armed slaver approached Jin with his whip in tow.
"Why do you abandon your post, slave?" grilled the long-tailed reptile. "The battle is over, you should be cleaning the arena with the others." The Gungan feigned ignorance in an attempt to escape trouble. He scanned around aimlessly and mimicked a puzzled look.
"Mesa sorry, Mistress," he conceded in a faux Gunganese dialect. "Mesa get lost, nowhere to go. Show mesa da way, Mistress. Please?" The dragon-like woman dwelled in silence briefly, then roared with vigor as she lashed her chain around Jin's wrist and surged electricity through the child's veins. Jin-Jeri wailed in agony as the durasteel tightened around his skin, and the electrical current flowed through his body.
"You will learn the way, or you will die," threatened the slaver as she deactivated the current. Jin slumped to the floor, and the Elder used the whip to pull him back to his feet. "Back to the lobby, slave. You will regroup with the others."
"O-okay," replied Jin. The slaver scoffed and reenabled the power current of her whip to briefly shock Jin-Jeri a second time.
"That is not what you say, servant," she asserted. "Try again."
"Yes, M-mistress," the boy weakly acquiesced.
The Gungan returned to his kin in the main lobby of the arena, still hobbling and vibrating from his injuries. He tilted into a nearby wall and buckled to the ground from fatigue. Tha-Tha spotted him and rushed to pillow him in her arms.
"Oh, my boy," she sobbed. "My sweet boy, what have dey done to you?" Her tears intensified when she noticed the scar on his wrist, indicative of the torture he'd endured. Jin was too exhausted to answer his mother, but instead caringly gazed into her eyes, almost if to assure her that he was okay. He slowly leaned his body deeper into her cradling arms and sloped his small head against her chest. Her sobbing continued, but progressively transitioned from dreadful sorrow to hopeful relief, for she knew the boy's spirit wasn't broken yet.