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 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.