On a remote planet of Kalee in the Outer Rim, the Kaleesh race lived in fear of their savage planetary neighbor and the news of war was rumored between clans, but one didn’t worry about the news…well tried not too. He stepped out into the windy outdoors and watched as his people struggle through this hard time. Trade wasn’t the same, for as a whole, they had little to trade with and they depended on Off-world traders for supplies and food.
In his right four-fingered hand, a blaster rifle which was never out of reach for any reason. The worn shoulder strap was stitched and knotted in some spots from the years of used service. The leading general of the Kaleesh army, General Grievous Shakar ran his free hand through the long thick dark Karabbac feather, which waved in the breeze outside his ragged desert turban at the edge of his mumuu-bone mask. His cloths were that of a normal Kaleesh uniform with a bandolier draped across his chest and the full-length of his arms were bandaged as well as half of his shins were too covered, only his hands and balls of his feet were bare, a desert yellow cloak signifying his rank as a Kaleesh general.
Grievous Shakar slung the rifle over his shoulder and started out for a scout tower on the north side of his people’s village. As he walked up the collapsible ramp, the slight wind shifted to a mid-gust and he hastened up to the shaded platform. Two Kaleesh scouts were up there for the two shifts, day and night, distinguishable by the lack of the long campaign cloak and a cloth replaced the mumuu mask. The night scout was curled up, back against the one of four support pole with his rifle close to his chest, asleep. The conscious scout halted, saluted at Grievous and went to wake his companion. Extending his arm, Grievous halted him from waking his sleeping companion.
“Let him rest,” he said lowering his hand back to his side and took the rifle off of his shoulder.
Then a sudden blast bellowed dirt and strands of lush grass mixed with the strong reek of starship exhaust into the face of the now disturbed General Grievous. The once asleep scout was now awake from the abrupt blast and looked around to see nothing. He got to his feet and stretched as he made his way to Grievous’s side, wondering what was going on.
“Sound the alarm, we have to get everyone into cover and get the men ready,” Grievous ordered stepping onto the ramp way, half-turned toward the scouts. “NOW!”
The alarm was given, every women and child hurried inside and the men assembled just out of sight. Grievous watched as his army passed blaster rifle clips and the village shaman marked their masks with Karabbac blood. The bowl came around; Grievous stared at him as he marked his mask, then and check his rifle making sure it was loaded after he was marked and the shaman gave his prayer, blessing everyone there. They all sat in dead silence as the wind toyed with the tails of their turbans and loose cloak flaps. General Grievous peered out to see a star cruiser looming over head, a Huk cruiser. A series of commands were issued, every soldier there understood their part they were commanded to do and in groups of two or three spread out to different positions about the village’s perimeter.
The two scouts in the tower paced, back and forth uneasily, not to pay much attention to the men settling into their appointed spot. Grievous slipped up the ramp and kept a low profile as he made his way up for the cruiser loomed above the village. One scout helped him inside as the other pulled a couple of ties and the ramp collapsed and was drawn up to the platform. Grievous slipped a small hologram device that he picked up on one of the pervious campaigns and in a soft blue light the whole area, within a hundred kilometer radius, appeared. It was a small invasion party of Huk, by Grievous’s standpoint, was highlighted in the soft vibrant blue glow, a good ways off with artillery, and that was going to be a big problem.
He looked to the fading daylight on the horizon and then to the hologram. To get the artillery, it was going to happen at night and whoever spots any of Grievous’s men that person or squad was died on the spot. Then it was decided, the time of attack was that evening and nothing was breaking it.