Wrath of Trandosha

Chapter 12 - Red sand

Valon and the man took small steps, circling each other, matching one another's movements. Valon handed his double bladed saber to Reg, who had joined the cackling group of degenerates, he removed his cloak revealing his tattered, dirty robes beneath. The energy of the settlement was no longer calm, it became tense, Valon could feel it. His opponent charged, throwing his right arm across his chest, Valon eyes snapped open, ducking left he through the black sand across his enemies face, temporarily blinding him, to cover Valon's next attack. 

He swept his leg under the man's, forcing him to the floor, with one swift movement. Before anyone could register the attack, Valon was on top of the man, curling his fist and aiming for the bridge of his nose. His enemy moved to the side, dodging the impending attack, fist hit the coarse sand, he pulled his fist back up, spraying grains onto the man's body. Valon went to strike again but the man pushed his knee against his chest, placing his leather boot on Valon's ribs. The Jedi was launched back, slamming against the cool sand, the Weequay soldiers hoisted him back up, immediately throwing him back into the fight. 

Regaining his focus he swung, only to have his clenched fist, caught in mid swing. The man kicked his thigh with great ferocity,  making Valon kneel on one knee, he looked up the dark clouds growing an ever more frightening shade of black. His attention turned to the man, who held him by the fist, crushing his hand until it felt as if it would shatter, with one foul blow the man's forehead connected with Valon's. Crimson blood squirted across the shadowy sand, Valon lay on his side, his own blood clogging his airway, the taste of iron overwhelmed him, blocking any attempt to fight again. 

The man hurled his boot into Valon's stomach, forcing the blood from his nose and mouth to splatter over the legs of the shouting onlookers, he clutched at his wounded stomach, not able to hold it in he cried out, expressing his devastating pain. His vision was impaired, the gloomy surroundings became murky, he felt the suffering here as he suffered, the injustice was like a plague feeding the corruption. Valon refused to allow himself to be enraged, resisting yet another pull to the dark side, he had no master to guide him from the void of darkness only himself But he did have one thing to help him. 

"Reg - execute attack - protocol - 88." said valon through swollen lips. 

The droids eyes turned a sinister red, its mechanical arm pointed towards the ground, dropping his master's cloak, his right hand raised upwards, holding the lightsaber horizontally. While the Weequays and the man were distracted chanting victoriously, Reg ignited the saber, both beams of solid green, impaling the guards who stood next to him. The light drained from their eyes, the others turned in shock, looking at the dangerous droid. All of them opened fire, Reg ducked spinning eracticly, with each rotation he carved his way through the crowd, downing almost all of them. 

Reg blocked the incoming fire with the blades, deflecting each shot back at the remaining few soldiers, his wrist spun at an alarming speed. All the Weequays saw before dying was the flash of green contrasting against Reg's formidable eyes, in a matter of seconds, all that was left was the corpses of the dead, lying in a perfect circle around Valon and the man. Reg's body snapped towards the man, clanking over to him with vicious intent. The man kicked up, knocking the saber from the droids mechanical fingers, the man punched Reg, only to have his knuckles destroyed. He leant down, gripping his broken hand, Reg uppercutted the man's jaw, his metal fist mashing the bone, the criminal body lay limp on the ground but he still breathed. Reg knelt over his unconscious body, picking up the lightsaber he aimed it to the mans temple.

"Reg stand down!" shouted Valon still clutching his stomach. 

"Do you want to know the probability that he will hunt us down?" Reg's voice was cold and mechanical as oppose to his usual servient state.