A cesspool of the downtrodden, the Refugee Sector on Nar Shaddaa is home to both the misfortunate and criminals alike. Offering their protection for credits, the criminal organizations that control the sector tax the populace outrageous sums. Unable to provide these fees, refugees are forced to work under hazardous conditions producing glitterstim and adrenals for their overseers. Some of these refugees are addicted to the substances themselves—for which the cartels increase the price of their tithes in exchange for a share of the product.

Crammed with stalls and makeshift hovels, several of the sector’s inhabitants find refuge on the streets and in the alleyways. Those who managed to avoid the dangers of drug production can be found selling their limited and often defective goods to others. Behind these stalls, a selective stock of black market wares is hidden, reserved for mercenaries and thugs.

Littered with garbage, it is obvious that no maintenance droids have been programmed to maintain the sector. The surrounding towers have fallen into decay, bits of debris falling every so often into the middle of the street. The duracrete streets are covered in a film of filth and chemicals from the abandoned warehouses, making movement cumbersome when traveling through the most inhabited areas.

Patrols armed with blasters and vibroswords come through these areas regularly, making a show of force to advertise the merits of their ‘protection’ while extorting the occasional shopkeeper. Screams and shouts are a common enough sound, which is never in the refugees’ best interests to interfere in.

The secret tunnel had twisted and turned, but eventually led Saylos and not-Calindra back to Nar Shaddaa's surface streets. Not-Calindra couldn't really tell the difference between one part of the moon city versus another; everything on Nar Shaddaa looked dirty, downtrodden, and corrupt. The fact that litter covered the streets, and that no droid had come to sweep the streets clean only accentuated her disdain for the metropolis around her.

She shuddered as she cast a wary look at the city's decaying towers, bits of debris falling at her feet, highlighting the film of filth and the Force knew whatever else that covered this particular area of the dark city. Careful as to not step in any filth, she turned to face a black furred Cathar who had followed her from a safe distance through the winding under passage. He cautiously made his way back into the night air, giving not-Calindra a wide berth -- flanking the wall as closely as he could im order to maneuver around her.

In the few heartbeats that followed, the Cathar glanced at her one final time before disappearing into the alleyway, and not-Calindra had stood unmoving as she felt the city and vermin around her through the Force. Finally, she outstretched her arm in front of her, a small gale of wind rosing around her, forcing paper, trash and filth into the air as it cleared a path through the debris for her. However, instead of stepping forward, she rose a feet above the filth-ridden duracrete street, obstinately refusing to touch the slime with her boots.

Her cloak billowed around her lithe form as she floated past large garbage bins and discarded crates. A vagrant, probably awakened by the sudden telekinetic activity, gave a strangled cry as he instinctively raised his arms to protect his face from the flying debris and moving crates caused by the Force user's passage. She slowed her advance, and her floating form shifted to face him, her blank stare meeting his suddenly panic stricken features, before he finally succombed to his drug induced paranoia and fled screaming. In his haste he never noticed the Nautolan that had suddenly appeared in front of him.

The vagrant yelped at the sudden sight of him, and pushed his way around the Nautolan and his unblinking bulbous eyes, forsaking spice for the hundreth time since his addiction had taken hold of him -- something the Nautolan was all too familiar with.

Not-Calindra's gaze watched unmoved as the vagrant ran past the newcomer. "Well, you're far from home, child of Glee Anselm. I can feel the gift upon you... Are you a descendant of Gynt, then?"

"Child of Glee... Descendant of Gynt..? You're not usually so poetic, Calindra."

Not-Calindra tilted her head sideways as she considered the Warlord. His stance had shifted, one of his hands was holding a cylindrical device similar to the one the girl also held on her person, the other hand was resting on the pommel of another weapon that was still in its scabbard. Decidedely, the Force Spirit's host had a vast network of contacts that knew her well enough to notice the various changes in her demeanor whenever it decided to take over.

The wind suddenly picked up as not-Calindra shifted in the telekinetic wind, her lightsaber suddenly in her left hand. She then started twirling around on herself in the center of the whirlwind. Her red blade suddenly ignited, streaked dangerously around her as it cast dark red shaddows against the duracrete buildings that surrounded them. The blade hummed and screamed closer and closer to where Raiju stood.

Imperium's Quaestor shifted his stance and ignited his own blade, letting go of the poisonous Sith alchemical steel blade to face his possessed clanmate's blade two-handed. The blue and red blades clashed, sending purple light streaking in every direction in the darkened alley as the warlord tried to stand his ground on the slimy walkway. Brown eyes met dark bulbous eyes as the two blades locked within inches from each others' faces.

With a gutteral growl, Kang forced a burst of telekinetic energy between himself and Calindra, and the two were suddenly forced apart. Calindra's form flew backwards, but stopped a few meters away from the wall she would have hit. Kang, meanwhile, slid backwards in the grime, but held his ground. Calindra's form slowed and started spinning once again; the red blade streaking upwards and downwards as she spun, her arms outstretched like an eagle. A crate suddenly slid towards Raiju, who counter-pushed it with a wave of his hand. The crate deflected, he threw his own blade towards Calindra.

The blue blade whirled and screamed towards the Force dervish. Blue whirl met red, and the blades hissed by each other in a strange helix of red and blue light.

The outstretched hand of the Nautolan had been waiting patiently for his weapon to return to his embrace. Willing the blade into flight towards the senile woman, it had soared beautifully from his grasp and continued to twirl in the air. Arcing under the woman’s own blade, it threatened to cut her in half had she not spun on her heels away from the danger and letting it continue upon it path circling back to Raiju. Yet, the Nautolan’s arm immediately dropped as he became aware of the woman’s own blade passing over his on a trajectory toward him.

Abandoning his focus on his own lightsaber, which in turn lost its returning arc and fumbled onto the film covered ground, deactivated, the Nautolan was quick to draw his sith sword straight up from the sheath on his waist. The tip of the blade hadn’t even been fully withdrawn, but the length of the sith sword’s blade was exposed in front of Raiju’s chest where Calindra’s lightsaber met it. Rebounding from the ancient sith metalwork, Calindra’s blade fell uselessly to the ground between the combatants. Deactivated.

Having fully unsheathed his sith sword, the Nautolan snapped the blade into a reversed grip in his left hand before leaping forward and drilling the heel of his boot hard into Calindra’s hilt. At first, the well constructed device held it’s form; refusing to buckle under the Nautolan’s weight. Then a second, third, and fourth stomp from the Nautolan was enough to split the hilt’s casing in several areas, pop the weapon’s emitter from it’s top, and bend its form. After this, the Nautolan once again stretched his right hand out towards his own lightsaber and found it to merrily leap from the filth covered ground back into his palm.

Activating the lightsaber once more, the alley was quickly illuminated by the Nautolan’s blade and Calindra’s face no longer hidden by the shadows. While it had been tainted earlier, with an aggressive tone that matched her behaviour, the woman’s face was now much softer and a mumbled, quiet voice squeaked out this time.

“You wouldn’t dare hurt a woman, would you?” Though the voice wasn’t as strange this time, Raiju still didn’t feel like Calindra had her senses.

“It’s a modern era,” Raiju started, shrugging. “Might not have been what your fore-mothers had meant, when they asked for equality, but dammit - I pride myself on being a feminist.”

The woman had been quick to recoil from the Nautolan’s response, jumping back towards the wall behind her and letting loose a blood curdling scream. A smirk had started across the Nautolan’s mouth, but immediately faded as a new voice drew his attention.

“What the hell is going on here?!” The tone of the man’s voice seemed to be full of both concern and annoyance, but likely only had confidence to it as it was backed up by two other men standing beside the owner. A quick assessment left the Nautolan feeling like the trio were the local bruisers, but he wasn’t able to begin bargaining with them as they quickly noted his activated lightsaber.

“Fellas, I can ex-”

“Kill the Jedi!”

The sudden and unusual amount of activity in the alley brought a small satisfied smile to not-Calindra's face, despite the loss of her host's lightsaber. The Force spirit had no attachment to such trinkets, and didn't really care about the outcome for the people that had intervened on her behalf. She stood by impassively as she watched her 'saviours' handle the troublesome warlord. They wouldn't live long, she knew, but that gave her the chance to prepare her next riposte.

---

Meanwhile -- a few measly meters away from all the commotion in the alley -- the adjoining plaza was lit up with vendor stalls of all sorts. The air was thick with the smell of spice, various foods, sweaty and grimy bodies, and the authorities knew what else. Laughter, cat calls and as many curses crossed the plaza in a constant tug of war between bragging rights and the short tempers of the losers.

"Fresh fish for sale..!!" one of the vendors hollered over the hubbub of the hundreds of souls milling about the plaza.

"It doesn't look that fresh to me..."

"I'll let you know," growled the merchant in a dangerous tone, "that it is fresh..."

"Well the fish stinks...!"

The merchant blinked in dismay and rolled his sleeve. "It does not stink... and it is fresh! I just got it this morning..! I'm expecting another delivery."

Just then, a body came crash landing directly on the merchant's fish cart, sending dozens of species of fish flying to the ground, surprising several of the passersby as well as the merchant and his haggler. "Well now, that's what I call a little too fresh..." said the later with a quick gulp.

There was a muffled growl as the massive frame of a half-breed between a man and a squid, tried to get up from under the fish produce. A charcoal black hand reached out from under the produce, pushing away fish as muscular green legs -- another tattoo spiraling down it -- kicked away in the hopes to find some footing. After a few ungraceful moments wriggling like an eel, the figure grew silent, and then the fish exploded away from the humanoid form, which floated away from the cart and back unto its feet.

“Hey!! That’ll cost yo...!! Hey!!” The merchant yollered as he started running after the Nautolan only to curse when a sword floated into the creature’s hand. “Gods forsaken Jedis…!” he growled under his breath as he returned to fix his stall, no longer caring to follow the Nautolan’s shadow into the various cross streets leading away from the plaza. “Not worth my krifing time…”

---

Not-Calindra’s rapid footfalls echoed through the walkway as she instinctively avoided pedestrians and street debris. She could feel the other Force user tailing her relentlessly through the crowded streets behind them. The girl host was surprisingly agile and light footed, and the Force spirit was enjoying feeling the crisp night air on her face. Sure it wasn’t the sandy desert expanses they’d come to love, but the thrill of the hunt was too much to pass up. However, all thing had to come to an end.

Finally slowing down, the Force spirit willed her host to stop and turn around to face their pursuer. People milled about, the humm of speeders filling the air. Even next to this major transportation artery, the pretty blond girl still seemed to attract stares from passersby. Instinctively, her hand went up to the headscarf that lay around her shoulders, and hastily covered the golden tresses away from prying eyes. Now she was just another face among a sea of browns and darks, but at least her host would see the pursuer and have a chance to catch her breath.

And just as easily as letting go of her breath, the spirit abandoned its hold on Calindra and was gone.

Calindra blinked and looked around the walkway, considered the speeder traffic, the towering cityscape around her and wondered where she was and what she was doing there. She barely had time to register that her lightsaber was missing, but her blaster was still in its holster when the Nautolan finally caught up with her, sword in hand.

“You’re finished, Calindra! You hear me? Your career in Imperium is over,” Raiju growled over the sound of the raging city when he finally caught sight of her.

“Raiju?” the girl genuinely looked puzzled. “What are you doing here?”

“Dragging your ass back to the brig, I’ve had enough of your insubordination.”

“My what?”

“Don’t play innocent with me, you’re done,” Raiju growled as he edged forward menacingly. “Now give yourself up, or I will use force.”

Calindra’s melodious laughter echoed through the streets, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the girl said as she glared at him defiantly, veiling the rest of her face with her headscarf. She then lowered her stance and shifted her feet, both arms held in front of her as if holding onto an invisible lightsaber handle in front of her, “bring it.”

Raiju stepped forward with a scowl, holding the Sith blade in a loose grip, and mirrored Calindra’s stance, presenting a smaller profile to attack. With a sudden movement of his wrists, he twirled his blade in a sweeping ark towards Calindra’s head, the girl shifted her stance, her hands taking hold of Raiju’s wrist, and ducking under the blade as she moved through the opening that it offered. The warlord was suddenly off balance, his sword arm suddenly trapped by Calindra’s firm grasp, and had no choice but to follow where Calindra led him as she clasped his arm and wrist in a double grip, using his momentum to spin around.

Calindra suddenly let go of her grasp and the Nautolan found himself being propelled towards a nearby railing. Quick reflexes had him grabbing a nearby lamp post. His momentum brought him swinging over the dangerous abyss between the walkways and twirling back towards the safety of the spires. He landed gracefully on his feet to face his opponent a second time. This time, he swung his sword towards her head, but it zipped by her ear as she simply sidestepped the blow with an effortless grace that only years of study could have provided. Unfortunately, Raiju hadn’t expected to hit only the air next to her, and his movement forced him to compensate. He turned his blade sideways and lowered to the ground with a crouch, the sword slashing towards her ankles.

Again, she moved slightly beyond his reach, and just as he was using the spin’s momentum to get back up, Calindra extended a hand. The space between Raiju and her was suddenly filling with a brute force that landed squarely into Raiju’s abdomen with sufficient force to disorient him. Calindra chained her next attack as she spun a leg around her. Tibia connected brusquely against Raiju’s rubbery face with a sickening sound. The warlord staggered a few steps.

When he turned to face his opponent again, the girl was nowhere to be seen.

There was a sudden blow from the right, and another from behind, followed by a sharp blow behind the knees. Raiju’s howl of pain was drowned out by the racing speeders nearby.

Feeding off his pain and hate, Raiju’s sword suddenly left his hand and flew towards Calindra’s face, but the Sith Warrior simply raised a hand and the blade stopped midway between the two. To the very few curious onlookers left in their vicinity, the two probably looked comical. The Nautolan on his knees, hand extended towards the girl; the girl, hand extended towards the Nautolan, feet firmly planted on the ground, her stance defiant.

A stalemate.

With a growl, he got back onto his feet, ignoring the pain shooting through his left leg, but neither of them letting go of the sword through the Force. It floated one minute heading towards Raiju, and then the blade started inching towards Calindra, forcing her against the walkway behind her. With a scream, Raiju ran towards her, using the Force to augment the strength in his legs, and then concentrated all of his will into his fist. His blow came extremely close to her face, but she tilted her head half a heartbeat before it could impact with her jaw. Dark fist met with the hard duracrete behind her, sending pieces of debris down below.

“You’re pathetic! A weakling like you doesn’t deserve to lead Scholae’s armies,” Calindra growled as she perched herself on the nearest railing.

Raiju might have been her superior in rank, but it was clear that she was his equal in the Force and was a far more superior combatant. “What do you think will happen when the rest of Imperium hears about your botched attempt at ‘arresting’ me? You’ll be the laughing stock of the Imperial Forces. It’s only a matter of time before the generals turn on you, and pretty soon Dek will outmaneuver you and take your place,” she cackled. “That’s if he sticks around. My sources tell me that Wagglehorn is ready to leave as well, if he hasn’t done so already. You can’t even get a non-human to do your bidding,” her laughter resounded around them.

With some effort of will, Raiju managed to redirect the blade sharp end pointed towards Calindra’s heart, and started pulling on the blade through the Force. It was a gamble, either the girl would let him have the sword, or she’d try to counter-pull it towards her.

“Anyone else, I would have executed, but you're not worth killing. Instead, I want you ruined, Raiju," Calindra taunted as she instinctively pulled on the sword to keep it away from her opponent. “When I’m done with you, everyone will know what a weakling you truly are. You’ll have to live with endless shame and dishonor until you throw yourself off the tallest tower of your own volition.”

'She thinks she better?' Raiju simply stared at her, a sickening grin crossing his face. He pulled a little harder on the sword through the Force, and then gave a sudden yank. Calindra countered and pulled, just as Raiju let go. The sword suddenly commanded to fly towards her by her own will, did so, and the cursed blade flew straight and true towards her heart. Eyes wide, Calindra understood a fraction of a second too late. She clasped her hands to catch the blade between the palms of her hands as she had practice thousands of times, but she was no longer able to keep her balance upon her perch. The girl fell backwards into the sea of speeders behind her, the wind racing upwards around her as she plummeted towards Nar Shaddaa’s underbelly...

“I hope you learn how to fly…” Raiju said smugly to the cold night air.