The battle ring was a large open circular area in the center of the enclave. The blue sky was dotted with puffy white clouds which shielded them from the hot suns. Around the edge of the battle circle, much of the rest of the tribe gathered under the tarp canopies to watch the battle unfold.

Venar was yet again, face down in the sand. His jaw ached from the blow he had just taken. The small wooden staff he had been given was sub-par compared to the sturdy engraved gaffi stick his opponent wielded. Bloodfist hovered over him waiting for him to return to his feet. He was a large towering figure over him. Sand people cheered watching from outside the battle ring.

Venar struggled to his feet. He wiped fresh blood away from the corner of his mouth. Sand particles stung in the wound. He straightened himself and planted his feet.

Then came the next blow. Bloodfist swung his gaffi stick with sharp precision and speed, a crosscut aiming for Venar's neck. This time, he was ready for it. He ducked underneath the attack and maneuvered his staff under and up and stabbed out, jabbing his opponent in the chin. The tribal chief shrugged it off, reaching out grabbing the end of Venar's staff and wrenching it from his grasp.

Bloodfist was much stronger than he was, his muscles bulging even from underneath the cloth wraps and mask. He was also surprisingly agile, quickly dashing forward and striking Venar square in the jaw. He staggered back a few steps, his vision blurring. He felt his airway begin to close as Bloodfist closed his massive hand around his throat and proceeded to lift him off the ground.

Venar could feel the raw brute strength the chief possessed as he was thrown hard to the ground. Sand flew up in a cloud from the impact, his mouth was agape but no audible sound was coming from it, his back ached from the abuse he was taking. Bloodfist was hovering over him again, apparently displeased with Venar's fighting prowess.

Venar slowed his breathing, drawing deeply on the Force. He propped himself up and brought himself into a crouching position. The ground began to rumble slightly and particles of sand around him began to hover slightly into the air. He closed his eyes and re-centered himself in the Force.

After what seemed like an eternity, he opened his eyes and sprung forward in a blinding dash striking Bloodfist in the chest. Using the Force to project his blow he sent the Sand People Chief flying backwards through the air to the other side of the dueling ring. The war chief was surprisingly agile, however, and landed in a crouching position as he slid backwards in the sand.

Both men ran forward to meet the other, each shouting their own battle cry. Bloodfist aimed his gaffi stick out in front of him like a harpoon. Venar, now defenseless, ran forward relying solely on the Force. As he neared the chieftain, he leapt up into the air, spinning in a wide arc over his opponent's head and landed down hard behind him. His feet and his fist struck the ground and unleashed a powerful blast of energy that created a cloud of dust and sent his opponent flying backwards yet again.

Bloodfist landed on his back and rolled head over heels a few times as the wave of energy carried him back a few meters. When he reached a stop, he quickly picked himself back up, but visibility was scarce. He could see only a shadow dart through the cloud. Then it was gone. He spun around. There was the shadow again, just outside his field of vision.

Wham! Bloodfist was struck hard in the back of the head and sent falling down onto his stomach. He rolled over to see the dust cloud clearing and Venar standing there, still without a weapon. Bloodfist felt fear seize him as the mysterious outsider reached out a hand and with an invisible grasp, and lifted him into the air.

Murmurs of fear and shock echoed from onlookers around the edge of the battle ring. Their warriors didn't dare make a move. Some of them let their weapons drop to the ground. Others brought themselves low to the ground out of fear.

Then, one of the Sand People left the edge of the circle and walked out to the center towards Venar. He seemed to be a shaman of some sort. He stopped right in front of Venar and dropped to both knees, bowing to him. Then the shaman let out a loud series of calls and shrieks to the rest of those gathered.

"Translation: It seems as if they believe you are some sort of deity, Master." He hadn't even noticed HK come into the battle circle. "I believe we might be able to use this to our advantage."

"Good thinking," Venar said to the droid. "Tell them, I have come with a message for them." HK began translating to tribe as Venar continued to speak.

"Tell them they must move their tribe deeper out into the Dune Sea and away from Anchorhead. Tell them, times of good fortune will come to their tribe if they heed my command. Tell them that if they accommodate me, then they will receive the moisture vaporators they have requested." After that, he dropped Bloodfist to his knees.

After the commotion died down, Venar was escorted from the battle ring to the Shaman's tent. The shaman was actually known as the Storyteller among his people. His tent was filled with artifacts and murals painted on large pieces of hide. There were also stone tablets displayed on a homemade shelf.

He was the chronicler of his people's history, the keeper of knowledge passed down from generation to generation. What he had to say was astounding to Venar. With HK translating, he told Venar about how Tatooine was once a vibrant lush world full of jungles and vast oceans.

Their story was one of pain and loss and war. The Kumumgah were the native species over twenty thousand years ago. They were highly technologically advanced, well beyond their time. They set up a peaceful government for themselves on this paradise world. They even developed space travel and began to reach out and explore other worlds. According to the Storyteller, this gained the attention of a vast evil Empire that was setting itself up as the main power in the galaxy. They had already enslaved thousands of worlds by the time they set their conquest against Tatooine. The Kumumgah fought hard to defend their homeworld against the invading Infinite Empire.

It was a long brutal war and the Kumumgah held off the invaders as long as they could, but their defeat at the hands of the Infinite Empire was inevitable. So they launched one final desperate attack against the dreadnaught overseeing the invading forces. Their mission was successful and the Empire's fleet was crippled. However, unknown to the Kumumah, the Empire had launched its own covert attack. They deployed a doomsday weapon on the planet's surface that sent out a powerful super-heated shockwave that swept over the entire planet during the course of one rotation.

Many of the Kumumgah had retreated to underground bunkers prior to the weapon's detonation. They were forced to remain in the bunkers for several months until the surface of the planet cooled down enough that it was safe again to walk on. When they finally emerged, their beloved paradise world was gone. Now only sand and dust remained. They were forced to adapt to the harsh new climate and the hard life that resulted. Eventually, due to the extreme climate change, their species evolved into two new factions. The purest of the Kumumgah became raiders and warriors. They wore fearsome robes and called themselves Ghorfas. The other group of the Kumumgah became scavengers and traders, their bodies adapting to a smaller form which made it easier to fit into small areas of shipwrecks. They called themselves Jawas.

The Ghorfas viewed the deserts as a sacred reminder of the destruction technology can unleash. To them, technology is a blasphemous and invasive offense. That is why, according to the Storyteller, they attack and wage war with the outsiders. As the old shaman put it, the outsiders make the gods angry with their machines of war and heresy on sacred ground.

Venar was amazed they had such a detailed account of their people's history. All of this knowledge locked away from the galaxy for who knows how long? No one, it seems, had ever taken the time to truly communicate with these people or make an effort to understand them. The Republic, Czerka, even the Jedi had all seen them as savages, mindless bloodthirsty creatures that attacked anything that moved. No one realized that their landing on the planet, building settlements, mining the planet for ore, all of that seemed like an invasion to the Ghorfas. The last time sentient beings had brought machines to their world it had meant the end of their society as they knew it. No wonder they so mistrusted outsiders.

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Mission crawled out of her makeshift lodging place, made of scrap metal and old junk. Outside, she was surrounded by more metal and permacrete. She had made her home in an abandoned maintenance access way in the lower city. She called it "The Fortress", though in reality it resembled more of an odd disorderly hut.

She had been living there for several months, ever since Griff had left. The Hidden Beks had offered her shelter but didn't need them. She knew they had only offered her a place out of pity. She didn't need that. She didn't need anyone. She would show them. And so, for several months she did just that. She had to admit, at least to herself, it was tougher living on her own than she had anticipated, but she would never show that to anyone else.

So she spent her days scavenging parts and supplies in the undercity to sell to junk dealers and occasionally some of the swoop gangs. Throughout her time scavenging, she had gathered various parts and scrap that she had used to build her home.

She exited the accessway which was lining the ceiling over the street below. She dropped from a hatch and landed on her feet on the empty street. She ran her hand over the blaster she had strapped to her leg and adjusted the vibroblade she had attached to her back. She never travelled the Lower City without them.

She walked several blocks, taking in the usual sights of the traffic through the windows that overlooked the air lanes outside. Other than that, there wasn't much to look at except permacrete and durasteel. The entire world seemed to consist of the same shade of gray everywhere you looked. That's why she enjoyed exploring the Undercity. Sure it was dangerous and filthier than the Lower City, but there were more interesting things to find down there. Forgotten paths, objects from outer space, long lost relics of a better time. All of these interested her, they all told a story.

She was always good at seeing the beauty in places other people thought none existed. That's also why she loved scavenging. Junk, scrap, garbage. All of it was at one time part of something else, a piece of a swoop bike, an old hydrospanner, they all used to belong to someone else, perhaps even valued by someone else. Now it was her job to take that broken piece of someone else's past and forge it into something new. She liked to think that, in a way, she was helping to continue the story of those people through the objects she repurposed. Just like she had had to repurpose herself after Griff left. She had to admit that after all these months, she was beginning to think his leaving might have been for the best.

She set her jaw and blinked away tears before they even threatened to come. She walked another few blocks until she came to Javyar's Cantina. The Rodian bouncer her let her through with no problem. He was used to seeing her now she supposed.

Inside, the music was loud and obnoxious as ever. It was during peak hours for the club and the place was stocked with patrons of all kinds. Gambling, spice dealing, and bounty hunting all flowed as freely as the drinks. This was the hub in which most of the criminals gathered to post contracts and trade illegal goods of all sorts. None of them paid her any attention, usually. She liked to be in the know. She had gathered a lot of knowledge on the various bounty hunters and criminals from eavesdropping on their conversations. There was no telling when that information could become useful.

She walked over to a small table in the corner and sat down, waiting for a serving droid to make its way over to her. From here, she could observe the rest of the bar. In the center was where the main bar was located, a circular design with holos mounted overhead displaying everything from the dueling rings, to the swoop races, to pazaak and sabaac tournaments.

She was surprised when a hand grabbed her shoulder and jolted her around in her seat. A shifty Rodian and a tall muscular Weequay man stood there, wearing the patches on their arms that signified they were members of the Black Vulkars.

"We were sitting there, little girl," the Rodian said in his native tongue.

"Sorry boys," she said coolly, "I got here first."

"We were here first," the Weequay said, "We got up to use the refresher."

"Sorry, but you know what they say," she turning back around, "you move your feet you lose your seat."

Suddenly she felt something strike her jaw and she was sent tumbling to the floor out of her seat. The Rodian was standing over her pointing a blaster at her.

"Looks like you moved your feet," the Weequay said. She got the impression he wasn't the "brains" of the two.

"Who do you think you are?!" she yelled, "You can't treat me like that!"

"Maybe you shouldn't be here, little girl," the Rodian said.

Just then, a bellowing roar sounded and the Weequay was lifted up into the air by a pair of large furry arms and thrown halfway across the other side of the cantina. The Rodian whirled around to face their attacker but by then it was too late. The blaster was knocked out of his hand by a large fur covered fist and then lifted into the air by another powerful hand that wrapped around his throat.

A large Wookie bared his teeth as he applied pressure around the gang member's throat. He cast him to the ground with a thud. The Rodian wasted no time in scrambling to his feet and running clear in the opposite direction. Mission watched him the entire time he scrambled to flee from the cantina.

When she turned back around, there was a large furry hand outstretched toward her. She looked up at the now friendly-looking Wookie. She smiled and took his hand.

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The Ebon Hawk settled down outside of the Sand People village stirring up sand and dust. Venar joined the "welcoming party" of warriors that surrounded the freighter. He desperately hoped they were able to procure the moisture vaporators otherwise this would turn ugly very quick.

The boarding ramp descended with a hiss and a cloud of steam. Bastila emerged from the fog holding up her hands as Canderous and Carth followed her down with two industrial-grade moisture vaporators in tow on a couple hover carts. They pushed them up to the village, the whole way being surrounded by Sand People warriors.

"Are we sure this is such a good idea?" Carth asked.

"Just keep calm," Venar said, "They're not monsters but they greatly mistrust outsiders, and for good reason."

"Whatever you say, boss," Carth said with a swift exhale.

"What's the matter, Carth?" Canderous jested, "A few desert warriors got you scared? And here I thought you fought Mandalorians."

"I don't like our odds or our position if they turn on us," Carth said, "We are at a severe tactical disadvantage here."

"That only makes it more fun."

Bloodfist met them at the entrance of the village, where Carth and Canderous transferred the vaporators over to a couple Sand People guards. Bloodfist barked a few orders at his men and a few minutes later, HK-47 was escorted out to join the rest.

"Has he told you the location of the Star Map yet?" Bastila asked Venar.

"Not yet," Venar replied, "He did say he knew its location though."

"There is also the matter of Mission's brother," she reminded him. "Have you found him yet?"

"Yes. Let me handle this."

"I hope you know what you're doing, for all our sakes."

The towering Sand People Chief walked forward a few steps, towering over Venar, then he dropped to one knee and bowed. Bastila raised an eyebrow in surprise while Carth and Canderous exchanged concerned glances.

"The great and mighty Bloodfist commits himself as your humble servant," HK translates. "You have blessed his tribe with good fortune and have been generous enough to demonstrate your power in their midst."

"It has been an honor visiting his people," Venar said. "However there are a few other matters still to settle."

Bloodfist looked up at Venar expectantly. "He has already given me the coordinates for your desired star map, Master," HK said.

"Then there is one final matter to settle."

"Translation: He is at your command, Master. Anything you ask of him he will do. He is most eager to appease you. I would wager that he would even slaughter his own village for you, Master. Though, I had hoped to do that myself."

"That's not necessary," Venar said, "There is a Twi'lek man among their captives. I would like him released into our custody as well as the other captives as well."

As HK translated to the Sand People chieftain, he studied his reaction. Though his face was covered by the mask, his body language was still readable. The tilt to his head indicated he was confused as to why such a request was made, perhaps even a reluctance to carry it out. When HK was finished speaking, the warlord lowered his head as he spoke, indicating submission.

"He will send for them to be brought out to you at once," HK confirmed.

A matter of moments later, Griff and the rest of the captives were escorted out of the Sand People compound and escorted to the Ebon Hawk. Mission waited atop the boarding ramp as the freed captives walked slowly up the ramp, many of them struggling, severely weakened from malnourishment. Amongst the small crowd of people, she spotted a flash of blue skin. There, walking towards her, his head hung low, was her brother. He looked older than she remembered him. There were lines on his face that hadn't been there before. He looked tired and weary.

"Griff!" she called, pushing her way through the group of people. He looked up as his gaze met hers. A look surprise spread over his blue face as he rushed forward to meet her. Their bodies collided in a warm familial embrace, and both struggled to fight back tears.