Star Wars: The Last Qymaili | ✔

47 | Taste The Cup

Song: "Kit Fisto Duels Grievous" from Star Wars: The Clone Wars OST

Later, Grievous lurked in the shadowy canyons of Vandos, hands on his lightsabers, glaring at the man who knelt before him. "You were unwise to traverse this far, Ambassador Quiyyen."

The Anx ambassador who had become lured into his trap gazed at the general with swollen eyes and a nosebleed. "Perhaps. But I will not stay this way for long. Your miserable life, on the other hand....that might be another story."

"Try me," Grievous growled, though amusement crept up his throat in a chuckle. He stroked a lightsaber, taken from a Jedi he had slaughtered on Tovarskl nine months ago. What had his name been....Nymastall. Padawan to the Jedi Puroth.

Grievous was beginning to have a difficult time keeping up with these names. A database might be in order once he lured those devils D'oon and Jmmaar and D'oon's Padawan into the trap he'd set for them with Quiyyen.

"Do not underestimate the Jedi," the ambassador warned.

He stared at Quiyyen. "You, in chains, tell me not to underestimate them."

"You will die soon."

He scoffed. "Preposterous."

"General," a droid said through the com-link he kept close to his ear. "The intruders have docked on the planet. They are not aware of your presence."

Letting out a cough, Grievous narrowed his eyes and unhooked his cape. "All the better," he muttered.

✺✺✺

It was an obscenely long amount of time before the trio of Jedi—the humans T'Chooka D'oon and Flynn Kybo, along with the Viraanntesse Jmmaar—entered the room. Grievous stood taloned to the ceiling, hanging only by his claws and craning the mess of pipes and wires that was his neck to observe them.

"Ambassador!" the Padawan shouted, rushing forward. "Are you hurt?"

Quiyyen wasted no time. "It's a trap! You shouldn't have come!"

"That's nonsense," Jmmaar chided, clicking his ten legs as he came forward to undo Quiyyen's bonds. His lightsaber glistened even from here, engraved with little silver designs.

Grievous stared at it for a long moment, deciding who first to kill, then nosedived from the ceiling. The air rushed against his eyes as he pummeled all his weight against Jmmaar's crustacean-like frame, crushing the wretched Jedi to the floor. He snagged the lightsaber from his hip, clenching it in his talon.

D'oon—that horrible creature who had sentenced his people to starvation—ignited his lightsaber. "Flynn! Get the ambassador to our ship!"

The younger man, who looked to be barely out of childhood, responded with terrified eyes. "Quiyyen, come on. We have to go."

"You monster!" Grievous snarled, and rushed at the door, but Kybo and Quiyyen rushed out ahead of him. The doors shut themselves around the Jedi Master....but also barricaded Grievous in.

Grievous circled the one remaining enemy who had actively sought out the destruction of Kalee, his lightsabers spinning in a duology of glowing disks, chopping the floor and the remains of Jmmaar's body.

The vibrant green of D'oon's blade shone against his large, ruddy face—plump from being on Coruscant, in the temple of a religious group that had caused him such pain. He would savor this moment in which he struck down this vile man once and for all.

D'oon's face was calm. "You're not a droid," he said, though Grievous continued spinning his sabers. "You're Kaleesh. Flesh and blood."

"Save your apologies," Grievous growled, moving closer. "You're too late." And he threw his lightsabers in for the first strike.