The Citadel Cantina is located on the second level of the Arcona Citadel. The bar itself is small on the surface, but possess an expansive selection thanks to a clever servos-operated storage system built into the underside of the bar. A bartender only need punch in what drink they require (other than the typical stock) and within a minute the bottle is distributed transparisteel display panels. Relaxed, soothing music plays over the speakers, and a big-screen display terminal with access to the holonet sits across from a series of comfortable lounge chairs and stools.

The Cantina is full-service and is manned by a gruff, one-eyed Rodian named Mick. Mick is a grumpy, former sergeant who served in the Arcona Armed Forces years and years ago. He goes about his business with a series of grunts, gestures, and monosyllabic dialogue. Though a man of few words, he's a genius of alcoholic beverages and mixology. Mick has a very strict rule about no fighting or brawling within the Cantina. The mess hall, on the other hand, is a different story.

The Cantina opens up into a dedicated mess-hall that can hold up to a hundred sentients before it starts to feel claustrophobic. Open at all hours, the mess-hall has been sanctioned as an acceptable area for members to settle aggressions and other frustrations. The tables are all firmly bolted into the halls floor to avoid being thrown over, and are crafted out of durable material that has held it’s own throughout the years. At the far end of the mess-hall there is a pair of double-doors that lead to the kitchen and storage area. The mess-hall is maintained by a full staff of droids, and occasionally a new recruit who has earned the ire of the Rollmaster.

Slow, instrumental music played over the speakers as Edraven sat at the bar. The tip of his cigarette smouldered slowly between the Onderonian’s fingers as he sipped at a glass of corellian rum. His features were clearly in view, as the durasteel mask had been damaged in his recent battle with the Kaleesh.

“So... you really could care less of the fact that the current leaders deem my side traitors to the cause?”

Mick grunted, shaking his head as he cleaned a glass with a blue rag. “So long as you and your friends remember the rules, I don’t have a problem serving you lot.”

“Lexiconus, don’t bother trying to sneak up on me. Your thoughts are quite loud when you project them.”

“What are you doing here, Edraven?” the Knight snarled, glaring at the back of the Obelisk’s head.

The Assassin ignored the Krath in favor of finishing off the drink, gently setting the empty glass on the bar.

“I said what are you doing here?!"

The Prelate slowly revolved on his stool until he faced the Togruta. “Having a drink,” Celevon answered in a nonchalant manner, a lazy smirk curving his lips. As the Onderonian took note of the hilt tightly grasped in the hand of Dark Forge’s Battleteam Leader, he took a last drag off of his cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray.

“Kid, no fighting in my bar. Take it to the mess hall,” the Rodian growled, the shattergun that was normally beneath the bar itself held, stock to his shoulder. “Marick needs to return and knock some sense into the lot of you...”

As the old soldier turned bartender continued to grumble, Celevon stood from the stool and walked towards the mess hall. A step in and the Onderonian felt old fears slowly rising to the surface. He took a deep breath and banished them, fighting off every fear with a memory of when he overcame each one.

“That’s a nice try, kiddo. But no cigarra,” the Onderonian pointed out as he unsnapped the hilt from his belt. “You want me to leave? Make me.”

The Togruta met the Onderonian in the mess hall of the cantina and observed him unclip the silver hilt. He slipped his own hilt out of his robe and gripped it tightly, he kept his eyes on Celevon’s lightsaber.

“You completely sure you want to do this? I’m not your normal Krath,” Lexic whispered at Celevon.

The Onderonian nodded slowly, stepped forward, and clenched his free hand tightly. The Obelisk aimed at Lexic’s stomach and shot his fist out with a surge of telekinetic energy. The hammer-like blast knocked Lexic far in the air as he rolled back into the cantina. A table with three stools tipped over and halted the Togruta’s momentum as he rubbed his sore back.

“Hey! What did I tell you idiots about fighting in my bar!?” Mick roared at the feeble Dark Jedi Knight.

Lexic grunted at the insult and stood slowly, igniting his lightsaber and proceeding back into the mess hall. With a cloud of raw anger circling the Togruta’s head, he rushed at the Onderonian with his green blade held high and delivered quick blows to the blue blade that snapped to life from the Obelisk’s lightsaber.

Mere minutes dragged on with the feeling of hours as Lexic continued to press down on Celevon. The Onderonian could not counter the Togruta’s moves as he was pressed close to the back wall. A flurry of algae blue light shimmered and sparked across the room as Lexic finally got the advantage. He swooped his hand up and blasted a telekinetic wave which made Celevon soar across and slam into a wall.

Panting and in clear pain in his back, Lexic smirked and drew his emerald blade back into the hilt.

“It’s clear that you’re not going to win with your puny excuse for skills. Return home and wallow, Human.” Lexic threatened at Celevon.

The Onderonian sat with his back against the wall, gasping for his breath as he tried to stand repeatedly. Then as he finally reached his feet, he sprinted at the speed of sound towards Lexic. With augmented legs, Celevon snapped his blue blade back to life and pounded his attacks against Lexic’s leaf green blade, using a force to be reckoned with. After a grueling several minutes of non-stop attack, the Onderonian leaped and kicked his feet off Lexic’s chest, reached inside his pocket as he backflipped and threw his sharpened Kerambit into Lexic’s shoulder. The blade struck deep and hard, aiding Celevon’s kick which brought the foolish Togruta to his rear.

Panting and straightening his back, Celevon delivered to same grin back towards the wounded Krath and whispered.

“As I said kiddo, try it.”

An atmosphere of mind games and subterfuge had begun to shroud the mess hall.

The Onderonian summoned the curved dagger back to his hand, the blade ripped free from the Togruta’s flesh to do so. Celevon wiped the viscous liquid from weapon before he returned it to its sheath, maintaining a smirk towards his opponent the entire time. The hilt of his lightsaber slapped into his palm and the cobalt blade sprung back to life.

“Don’t let one knock on your ass keep you down. Let’s finish this!”

Lexiconus raised his crimson gaze from the burning blade to the eyes of his opponent. The usual silver gaze of the Prelate held a hint of blue from the weapon in Celevon’s hand. In his eyes, the leader of Dark Forge saw an eagerness to lock blades. An eternal refusal to lay down his weapons or give in. But, beyond that, he knew that the Obelisk had been holding back.

The Krath stood and, with a flick of his thumb to the switch, his emerald blade materialised to existence.

The Equite moved forward, his eyes seeming to glow as he struck quickly to either side of the Galerean, his motions seemingly with no pattern.

The Inquisitor tried to get within the Onderonian’s defenses, angling his green weapon down only to get it swatted aside by his opponent. Celevon’s eyes seemed to pass along the message without words.

You will have to try harder than that.

Lexiconus narrowed his crimson eyes as they both leapt back into the battle, they blades moving faster and faster. The blue and green weapons seemed as though they were a pair of dancing lights before they abruptly stopped.

The Krath gasped as his lightsaber fell to the ground. It took a moment before he realised that his hand still gripped the hilt, though it had been seared through. Lexiconus raised his eyes just in time to see an arc of cobalt energy flash towards him then knew no more.

Celevon deactivated his lightsaber as the Inquisitor’s head bounced twice before coming to a halt. He knelt down and pried the stylised hilt from the limp fingers.

“I hope you aren’t planning to leave that mess here, Edraven,” Mick growled, still holding the shattergun as he glared at the Obelisk.

“Umm...”

In a state of irritation and anger, Lexic slowly stood and continued to attack Celevon with his lightsaber. The pressing attacks were high and an arm stretch for the Onderonian, but he kept up just as quickly. The droids from the storage room watched in anticipation as the Dark Jedi dueled each other. The tension between the two finally snapped as a fault became obvious; the Arete Battle Team Leader slammed Lexic against a table and then jumped over him and onto the table top.

The Krath in more severe pain, climbed onto the table and held his lightsaber tightly with two hands. They dueled on this neat, close arena as a flawless pair of magicians. Weaving and countering each others moves, Lexiconus slipped a hand under and blasted kinetic energy from his arm, which resulted in the Obelisk flying and gliding onto the opposite table. With great precision and determination, they dueled on the edges of each table, holding on for dear life by their toes as their sword skills were put to the test.

Whilst on the table, Celevon jumped to another and Lexic followed. The chase of jumping tables continued around the mess hall until they reached the storage area. The droids that worked there screamed and ran about in panic, bumping and crashing into each other and storage containers. The Onderonian crashed inside the storage and rolled backwards, preparing himself by kneeling and keeping his lightsaber lit. He glared with concentration at the door to await Lexic’s arrival.

“You can’t keep this up forever kiddo, your body has limits!” The Prelate shouted.

No reply or sounds could be heard from the mess hall, only the shrieking and escalating panic of the escaping droids. The Obelisk continued to wait, watching the door for subtle movements with keen eyes.

“What’s the matter, fed up?” The Prelate shouted once more.

Again no reply was given, only the sound of disappearing panic from the droids. Quite curious, Celevon stood and began to press the door open slightly, observing the empty room. He realised that Lexic was not there and frowned in wonder. Before stepped further he heard a rustling in the vent above. The Prelate walked back inside and looked up towards the vent, igniting his lightsaber. He began to fiddle and unscrew the vent to investigate the sound, but the Togruta burst through the door and tackled the Prelate to the ground. After a series of kidney punches and knees to the stomach, the Togruta finally wore down the Onderonian and panted heavily as he stood.

“Always watch your surroundings.” Lexic panted, as he grabbed Celevon’s wrist.

Lexic gripped him tightly and forced him to stand, kicking the lightsaber hilt from his hand. Then the Krath proceeded to rip his mask off and take the Prelate’s other hand behind his back. The Krath pulled the lightsaber hilt up from the ground and tucked it into his belt, then proceeded to walk with the Prelate out of the mess hall and into the cantina.

“Sorry about the mess, Mick. This one had a bit too much to drink.” He said to the Rodian, who grumbled in reply. Together, they both walked out to Lexic’s shuttle.