Begeren. Once a prosperous Sith world, it has been the site of numerous battles throughout the millennia. Grand halls and monuments were torn down and re-purposed by looting Republic forces thousands of years ago, before they were driven from the planet. Isolated settlements still dot the planet's surface, but the inhospitable, craggy, and desert-like terrain, along with the beasts common to many desert and Sith worlds, have kept most humanoids from colonizing. Occasional skirmishes have left debris scattered throughout the desert, and battles were fought here as recently as the Galactic Civil War. The planet is now under the control of the One Sith and is rumored to be full of all manner of priceless, ancient Sith artifacts.

The Dark Council has pushed forth to Begeren and the Grand Master, on his quest for ever more powerful items, has decreed the Clans and Houses seize anything of value. The unity shown by the Brotherhood during the beginning of this Crusade is fracturing, with the Clans and Houses growing tired and frustrated with the seemingly endless succession of battles. Tempers are flaring between former allies, with outright aggression no longer uncommon. Despite this, you have responded to the Grand Master's call—though whether it's to actually seize the items for the Brotherhood, destroy them, or use them for your own purposes, only you know. One such item, a Sith talisman, said to be inlaid with a dark side-infused gemstone, was lost in the quarries of Begeren during the liberation of the planet from Old Republic looters thousands of years ago.

The Force has drawn you here, to an abandoned quarry, in a mountainous region west of an expansive desert. Any mining equipment once used here is long gone, but the landscape itself remains surprisingly preserved from the days of the Old Republic's strip mining. Scrub brush, the only foliage present on this part of the planet, has taken root all along the sides of the quarry. The ledge overlooks a one-hundred meter drop into a crystal-clear basin of water; opposite the ledge is a more gradual, step-wise decline. The basin itself is peculiar, as no plants are growing in or around it, despite being one of the few bodies of liquid you have seen in the nearby area. A long, snaking ramp meanders down through the steps of the quarry towards the water below, beginning at the northward edge of the cliff you now find yourself on. You notice shards of gemstones crunch underfoot as you move, a hint as to the use of this quarry in ages past.

“Blasted droids!” Turel vented to no one in particular as he labored in vain to troubleshoot one of the probe droids he had been given as part of the Odan-Urr strike team sent to Begeren. Turel didn’t understand the science, but their sensors were supposed to penetrate the surface and locate metals altered by Sith alchemy. This probe droid had led him to a large, empty quarry. Why would a valuable Sith artifact be here? The droid had to be broken.

The new Jedi Knight hated these artifact retrieval missions. Infiltrate planet X and steal artifact Y from under the Dark Brotherhood’s collective noses, all while dodging rival units and whatever horrors guarded said artifact. Turel couldn’t help but remember his last retrieval mission, Bosthirda. His team fought rival units, an undead horde of Sith zombies, had collectively gone insane in the labyrinth and still failed to retrieve the sword they were after. “Let the Sith keep their trinkets.” He thought to himself.

As best as Turel could determine with his untrained eye, the droid was functioning perfectly and there was something touched by Sith alchemy in this particular quarry. It was worth a look. The quarry was as lifeless as the rest of this part of the planet was, save for sparse growths of scrub brush. Turel stood on top of the ledge looking down upon the quarry. There was something odd about the water basin. Here was an abundant source of water in an otherwise desert environment with no signs of life in it. Turel decided this was worth looking into so he traversed the winding ramp down the side of the quarry to the water below.

Turel didn’t notice anything unusual about the water when he reached the surface. It seemed cool, clear and otherwise clean water. The Jedi felt a familiar chill down his spine as he examined the water. It was like Bosthirda all over again. The dark side was strong here. “Well this is the right place.” he thought to himself as he scanned his surroundings. He could sense the source of the darkness was near, though not in the water. The knight began to examine the cliff face at the base of the ramp.

The Jedi noticed an unusual rock formation in the cliff face, possibly an artificial grotto. He studied the entrance for a moment and decided a low yield explosive was the best bet. The downside was that the resulting explosion would attract the attention of anything in the area. A strange gut feeling he couldn’t quite articulate told him this was the correct course of action. Turel placed a thermal detonator set to it’s lowest setting at the base of the artificial barrier. He set the explosive and took cover as best he could.

Turel’s hunch had been correct, the artificial barrier had protected a small two meter by two meter grotto inside the cliff face just large enough to contain a small metal box. He leaned inside the grotto and pulled out the box. He dusted off the debris from on top of the box and opened it. Inside the box was an ornate talisman with a solid ruby gemstone in the center. Turel found himself staring into the ruby for a minute, lost in the beauty of it’s crimson abyss. He shook his head to snap himself out of it. He had to get out of here quickly before anyone came to investigate the sound of the explosion.

As Turel made his way up the ramp he began to think that this mission was going to be easy after all. He had the talisman with no sign of any resistance. Just as he crested the ridge he saw a young man in his early twenties with messy raven hair, dark eyes and a smug grin. The young man was on the low end of average height and very well built. Judging from his combat fatigues and weapons on his belt he was from the Brotherhood.

Turel had made the erroneous assumption that the young dark sider was a journeyman based on his opponent’s age. “I don’t have time for this.” Turel thought to himself as he made up his mind to goad his opponent into the inevitable confrontation. Better to get it over with now.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you leave with that artifact.” Teroch announced with cocky grin as he deliberately blocked Turel’s path.

“Oh you’re pretty enough as it is, you don’t need jewelry. I’m sure all the girls, and boys for that matter, flock to you. You have a lucrative career underwear modeling on the holonet ahead of you. Besides this necklace doesn’t match your eyes.”

“I don’t know who you are, but I’m claiming this artifact for House Galeres of Clan Arcona. Give it to me and I might let you live.”

“Aren’t you a little young to be a Sith?”

“I’m Obelisk and a Mandalorian warrio-” Turel cut Teroch off mid-sentence. Teroch’s youthful smirk quickly turned into a frown.

“Oh, so you’re young, angry at the galaxy and you wear armor instead of a dress.” Turel began clapping slowly in a sarcastic manner. “My mistake. You dark siders are all the same to me.”

The use of the term ‘dark siders’ had clued Teroch in that Turel was from Odan-Urr. “You’re rather insolent, for a Jedi, don’t you know who I am?”

“I do, you’re an angst-ridden teenager, who didn’t get enough hugs as a kid, playing around with daddy’s weapons and you’re in my way.”

Teroch’s eyes went wide with rage as that last comment had clearly struck a nerve. “I’M TWENTY!”

“Tell me, did your mom have to sign a permission slip for you to go on this mission?”

“ENOUGH!”

Turel felt a shift in the Force well beyond any journeyman emanate from the raven-haired youth. He felt a twinge of fear as he realized with growing horror that he may have bitten off more than he can chew.

Rage flash-boiled inside the youth. He never had got the hang of controlling his temper. The gems worked into the dirt underfoot reflected the glacial white blast of Force Lightning which erupted from Teroch’s two outstretched fingers in a single, hideously powerful blast strong enough to instantly kill.

The former Hutt enforcer crouched and rolled behind a small outcropping of rock, the hairs on his head and hand standing on edge. Temerity from the Force - fleeting though it was - had been the only factor to save his life.

He instantly reassessed the freakishly powerful youth. The Odanite could count on one hand the number of people he knew able to produce Force Lightning. His current predicament was the very definition of being neck-deep in poodoo. Then again, it definitely wasn’t the first time in Turel’s life that his mouth had gotten him into trouble. The trick was making sure it wouldn’t be his last.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot. How about we start over? I’ll read you The Little Lost Bantha Cub and you can snuggle up with some cocoa and help me with the voices?” Turel’s eyes frantically darted about his surroundings, looking for something - anything - that would help him live through the next few seconds.

Belatedly, the Knight unclipped his lightsaber from his belt, his other hand still clasping the damned talisman. Since the initial blast of Lightning, his opponent had been curiously mute. The Odanite risked a quick peek over the outcropping.

There was a blur from the other side of the boulder, and Turel found himself falling backwards, stars exploding before his eyes. He landed on his back with a weight atop him. Dazed, the Knight tried to push the Mandalorian from his chest and shield himself from the repeated punches to the face, but he may as well have tried to fight off a rancor. The kid was fast.

Sudden pains in both of his wrists caused him to cry out. Then, as abruptly as it had started, Teroch was off him. Blearily, Turel swiped at the blood trickling from his nose and groaned as his vision swam into focus. The Mandalorian stood above him, the Odanite’s saber in one hand, the talisman in the other. His anger seemed to fade like thunder in the distance.

“Osik, I had something for this.” Teroch muttered, staring down at the bloodied form stretched out on the dusty rocks before him.

Turel croaked something unintelligible in response, and managed to sit up, his head still swimming.

The Adept sighed, conflicting thoughts running through his head. The Odanite was clearly beaten, but it had been cheap. Easy. Exactly like last thursday with that Zeltron-

No!

Dragging his thoughts away from that, the youth leant up against the boulder which had seconds ago provided Turel with life-saving refuge, and idly turned the saber over in his hands, inspecting it.

“I’m sorry. I don’t usually fly off the handle like that. I just hate these di’kutla fetch quests. It’s osik and a waste of my talents and time.”

Baffled, Turel stared up at the kid before him. Slowly, his hand moved towards one of the holstered pistols at his hip.

“It’s just so boring!” Teroch continued, throwing his hands up in despair.

“Uhh, not that I’m complaining, but shouldn’t you be murdering me round about now?”

Teroch flashed a grin and tossed aside the talisman in a gesture so pointedly casual it was frightening. “Naah. Not really my thing. Plus, You’re one of the few Odanites I’ve met capable of stringing a sentence together without getting all holier-than-thou. It’d be a wasted experience to kill you.”

“Okay…” Turel said hesitantly, pushing himself to his feet. He also drew a pistol. Teroch made no move to stop him.

The youth shrugged off his heavy jacket and wiped his brow, the sun clearly getting to him, and looked his opponent in the eye. “I’m Teroch Erinos, di Tenebrous Arconae.”

It was surreal. One moment, the youth had been a lightning-toting death dealer, and quick as winking he was chatting amiably as if they were discussing the weather. He wasn’t sure Teroch was entirely sane. That said, the name did ring a bell. The surname, at least. The Erinos were Arcona’s tame Mandalorians. Maybe this child before him was some kind of prodigy of theirs.

He was staring at the Odanite expectantly. “Oh! I’m Turel Sorenn. Now I’ll just be leaving…” He turned, bending to pick up the talisman-

“Hold up there, ner’vod. Orders are orders, after all. I can’t just let you walk away with that trinket, even if it doesn’t match my eyes.” His lip quirked in a grin.

“So...we just stand here?”

“Naah. I’ll fight you for it. But no Force. Sound fair?” To show he was genuine, the youth passed his saber back to the Knight.

Turel quickly inspected the weapon, checking for any sign of tampering. There wasn’t any.

“So what? First to die loses?”

Teroch laughed openly and unclipped his own lightsaber, igniting the blade. “Haven’t you been listening? I don’t kill unless I have to. If I lose, I’ll let you go with the talisman. If you lose, I get the talisman and I get your comlink code.”

Turel blinked, pretty sure he was being hit on. This was the weirdest fight he’d ever had the misfortune of being a part of, and he’d been in more than his fair share of fights.

The Adept flourished his saber, Fraternity blazing from his fist until it seemed as though he carried the sun.

Turel pressed the activator on his own blade, eyeing Teroch warily.

“Oya. Have at you.”

Turel was still trying to make sense of what was happening. He wondered if he had taken one too many blows to the head during that last beating. If this young Arcona wanted to indulge in some man on man swordplay Turel would happily oblige him.

The Knight closed on the Mandalorian only to find that his target was airborne before he could reach his destination. Turel instinctively continued his forward momentum and narrowly dodged a downward slash from Fraternity’s orange blade. The back of his jacket was not so lucky, as a large singe mark parallel to his spine bore witness. It just wasn't possible. Turel had come at him full speed and still Teroch had time to leap over him and land a precise downward strike that was millimeters away from slicing him in half. Turel prided himself on being fast, it was kind of his thing. But this kid was so much faster than him. How was that possible?

Turel didn't have time to ponder whether his life had been intentionally spared a second time as Teroch gleefully resumed his assault. “Now we have a fight on our hands.” The Obelisk thought to himself as the Guardian parried his flurry of strikes, slashes and lunges in a blur of teal and orange light. It was all the Knight could do to maintain his circle of defense, he dare not risk exposing himself with an aggressive attack, keeping his lightsaber close to his body in true Soresu form. Turel retreated behind his defensive saber orbits the way a turtle hides in it’s shell from a predator.

Soresu wasn't the Mandalorian's preferred form but he was versed in it enough to recognize his opponent’s tactic. Without the Adept’s Force powers to break the stalemate this duel could last a long time. Sure, he would eventually find a way to break Turel’s defense but it would be like the ocean battering a rock. Boring. It was time to make things interesting.

Teroch did three consecutive back-flips to create some distance between himself and his opponent. Once he had eye contact with Turel he cast Fraternity aside and pounded his chest before raising both arms in the air in a “come at me” gesture.

Turel stood flabbergasted, uttering “loca bukee” without even realizing it.

The young Arcona chuckled as he ran his fingers through his unkempt onyx hair, “Sie batha ne beeche?” punctuating his sentence with a taunting sneer.

Turel felt fear give way to a profound sense of irritation at the universe. “Great. He speaks Huttese too. What else can this freak prodigy do?” He pondered for a fleeting moment.

“No sabers now?” The Jedi inquired under no illusion of who was really in control here. Teroch had the power to kill him at will so he made the rules.

“Keep your weapon if you wish, jetii. You will still lose.”

“I wouldn't want to maim that perfectly chiseled body of yours,” Turel said with a cocksure grin as he cast his own saber aside and removed his utility belt.

The young Mandalorian was rapturous that his opponent was getting into the spirit of things. The two warriors closed the distance and began the elegant dance of their respective martial arts. Strike, counter, block, evade, attack, and defend. The fight ebbed and flowed like the tide for several minutes before Turel scored a lucky hit by ducking one of Teroch’s strikes and following it up with a solid elbow to the abdomen. The Adept was knocked off balance by the blow and set flying backward.

Turel attempted to seize the momentary advantage presented by Teroch on the ground only to catch the Arcona’s combat boot in the face sending the Jedi flying onto his own back with stars in his eyes yet again. With inhuman speed the Obelisk was up, had his knife out and was on top of the stunned Knight.

Teroch held the knife up against Turel’s throat as he shifted his weight onto the vanquished Knight’s chest and drove his knees into his foe’s armpits, securing his mount. Still holding the knife, the young Mandalorian leaned in and whispered “I win.”

Turel glanced down at the knife for an awkward second, as he struggled to take a breath with the Arcona sitting on his chest. “I don’t know how you Mandos do things but where I’m from it’s customary to take someone out for drinks before you mount them.”

Teroch let out a hearty laugh before releasing the blade from Turel’s throat. “That can be arranged ner’vod. ” The victorious Arcona lept up and extended a hand to help his Odanite adversary up as if the two had been sparring buddies instead of mortal enemies.

As Teroch went to retrieve Fraternity Turel picked up the Sith talisman which had been the cause of their little contest. For a moment he stared into it’s crimson depths. The Jedi sighed and tossed the talisman to his Obelisk antagonist. “You won, fair and square,” Turel conceded as he turned to walk away.

Teroch nodded with satisfaction, the Jedi had passed the Mandalorian's test of honor by keeping his end of the deal - almost. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” The raven haired youth inquired as he stared impatiently at Turel.

“Oh, my comlink code. It’s 867.5309” Turel said with a bit of disbelief as Teroch dutifully programmed the frequency into his own comlink.

Later, as the two men were leaving the quarry Teroch approached Turel and slapped him on the back. “You aren’t so bad for an Odanite. If you ever get tired of the Jedi peace and serenity poodoo you can look me up. I’m sure Arcona would welcome a warrior of your caliber.”

“You’re aren’t too shabby yourself kid. Maybe we should grab a drink when this whole crusade business is over with. You are old enough to drink right?” The Knight teased with a mischievous smirk. Teroch smiled and playfully punched him on the shoulder.

The Erinos looked over at the Odanite and grinned a wide, lazy smile. This was much more like it. Turel, obviously not trusting a ‘Dark’ Jedi as far as he could throw him, made no move to attack. His stance spoke of the defensive form Teroch’s father had been so famous for wielding.

Perfect.

He exploded into motion, not bothering to augment his natural athleticism with the Force; Teroch was already at the peak of physical training and could manage the strains and rigours Ataru demanded without dipping into his considerable reserves. One boot, expertly placed, brought his momentum to a halt. He pivoted on the ball of his foot, feinting high, then twisted around, springing his left hand around like a viper’s bite, his tangerine blade snapping down at Turel’s ankles.

The Knight hopped over the blow, relying on a lifetime of muscle memory and hasty training with the saber to keep his limbs attached, then whipped his own blade down in a hammerblow designed to split Teroch’s skull in half at the crown. The youth laughed as he rolled backwards, heedless of the sand, dust and gems caught in his hair, then came in again, his lightsaber jabbing in repeatedly, each stab a probe to see just how good the Odanite’s defence truly was.

Turel managed to stave him off, albeit only just. His chest heaved like bellows when Teroch finally ceased his assault, grinning madly. After just a minute of combat, they both knew how it was going to end. Desperately, the Knight ran through a myriad of scenarios where he came out with the talisman in hand. Nothing came to the fore.

Teroch backed off a few paces, the fresh sweat on his face and arms glistening from the light of the sun, still high in the sky.

“I’m younger than you. I’m definitely more powerful, and let’s face it, I’m not what you expected from a Dark Jedi, am I?”

“Well, I knew you all loved the sound of your own voices-”

“Yeah yeah, I’m being serious here. I’m offering you a choice. Or a chance, rather. You’re clearly not rocking the Jedi thing very well. Being all goodie goodie just isn’t in your nature, no matter how much you fight it. I can tell just from looking at you. You’ve had a crappy life, and it’s not going to get better with you constantly at war with yourself. Look behind you. I promise I won’t attack, but look.”

Hesitantly, Turel looked briefly over his shoulder. The trail which led back to the landing zone shimmered from the heat beating down on the near-lifeless terrain. Nothing had changed.

“You know where that road goes,” Teroch continued, his words causing the cold touch of premonition to brush against Turel’s spine. “You’ll be back on New Tython, having to deal with the mind-numbing osik mundanes constantly throw at you, bereft of praise, constantly struggling to not be yourself. It’s not healthy, and it will never make you happy. Come with me. We’ll ditch this haran-hole, go to Dajorra, and I’ll show you just how wrong you were about Dark Jedi. I’ll teach you to wield the power I so casually throw around. I’ll introduce you to a bunch of friends of mine you’ll just love, and all that I ask for this is for you to accept who you are, and embrace it.”

Turel was tempted. Truly, he was. The Adept had made it sound so easy, so appealing. For the longest moment, the Knight felt the dice tumbling in him, the strings of fate tugging his destiny to and fro.

“I’ll pass.” He managed eventually, still forcing an understated dryness to his answer.

Teroch sighed, his shoulders sagged in disappointment.

“Such a waste.”

Eyes laden with regret, he re-activated his saber and dove back into battle like a swimmer throwing himself into a lake during a blistering summer day.

Turel threw his saber up in a high guard, caught a slash, then had to drag it down just in time to saw away a lock aimed at his shoulder. The orange saber feinted twice high, once low, and then stabbed straight in at his stomach. Each of the attacks took less than a half-second, the complicated attack had him backpedalling. His boot caught on a loose stone and the Knight twisted, trying to keep his balance under the assault-

There was a flash, and Turel went down. He waited for the searing pain to creep through him, but none came. There was only a dull ache from his chest. The Odanite tried to suck in a breath, and pain surged through him. At least two ribs broken, and probably his solar plexus, too.

Wincing, Turel sucked in another breath and stared up at the youth, who kicked his lightsaber from his hand, then called the talisman to him telekinetically. The Adept hesitated a moment, then crouched down and plucked a comlink from Turel’s belt pouch. He quickly tapped a few buttons, then returned it to the Odanite.

“In case you change your mind, or whatever.”