At one point in time Luprora stood as a haven to the immigrated Lupr’or. The haven did not last as worsening climates reduced the population down to a single settlement. All that remains is the corpse of a civilization, constructed from a combination of wood and metal that barely resemble buildings. They function more as a protective shell and a solid frame for those that remain, hoped to be far outside the reach of the native threats.

The rising tide of the expansive seas lap at the outcroppings of obsidian rock that makes up what remains of the land. Mountainous croppings that shrink with the coming waters. Passageways and staircases are carved into the stone itself, left to assist those travelling in low tide. The scattered relics of technology lies abandoned throughout the expanse as a testament to the Lupr'or's original immigration, left unused and at the mercy of erosion and time.

The tide stands as the greatest threat to life on Luprora. Starting at its lowest point at dawn, the tide rises throughout the day and brings with it the native Tsw’ells. These tentacled monstrosities sleep in the earliest hours of the morning and reside in the ocean’s waters. It is ill-advised to travel along the shoreline, as Tsw’ells have been known to drag unsuspecting individuals to their deaths beneath the waves. These massive creatures aren't the lone threat to those who trespass upon the surface. The R’ora live among the shallow outcroppings across the planet. Extremely territorial, this species is sentient enough to wield primitive polearms and rely on the presence of Tsw’ells for protection.

Luprora the haven is a promise lost to the sea, with only the battle for survival left behind.

The ocean air was so thick with salt that TuQ’uan thought it may clog the filters on his Antiox mask, and while he could see the beauty in Luprora, he just wanted to get the job done and get back to his ship. Laying flat on his stomach, the mercenary dragged himself forward to the edge of a rocky plateau. Not far below him was his target, a Kiffar male from Clan Odan-Urr sitting cross legged near the edge of a cliff, deep in meditation and with his back to the Kel Dor. No one had explicitly told him to go after the Odanite, Tisto Kingang the file had called him, but TuQ’uan figured he could curry favour with the Dread Lord and his Wrath by eliminating one of these Lighties from the galaxy.

Pulling out his DL-44, TuQ’uan took aim and drew in a deep breath.

This will be easier than I thought.

Using the plateau to hold himself steady he squeezed the trigger and sent a single bolt of plasma directly at his targets head. The red bolt streamed across the 10 meter gap between the muzzle of the blaster and the dreadlocked hair in the blink of an eye but to the mercenary’s complete and utter shock he had missed. The Force-user had sensed the danger and thrown himself to the side landing on his hands and knees.

TuQ’uan stared at the black scorch mark left on the ground where the Kiffar body should be laying, a stunned look on his face.

Oh, that’s not good. TuQ’uan thought to himself as he scrambled to his feet. The Odanite mirrored the Plagueian and began to stalk forward, the Force wrapping itself around his limbs as he leapt with much more ease than naturally possible up the side of the short cliff. TuQ’uan had barely had time to get to his feet before he was face to face with his target, Tisto’s light hazel eyes filled with anger and his cloak billowing in the wind.

“Well that was stupid of you,” the Force user spat.

TuQ’uan tightened the grip on his blaster knowing that it wouldn’t be much use in a close combat fight. The Odanite raised his shockboxing gloved hands into a ready position in front of his face and swept his right foot back, taking on the stance of a professional shockboxer. TuQ’uan had seen a lot of shockboxers over the years but never from this point of view, the Kiffar in front of him looked like he could be posing for a duracrete statue. A statue that was about to give him a whooping.

“Wait! Wait!” the Kel Dor pleaded. “Are you Tisto Kingang?! The Solyiat shockboxer? I am so sorry, I thought you were someone else!” he lied.

TuQ’uan raised his hands in the air and released his grip on the blaster, letting it spin on his index finger so the muzzle was pulled downward by gravity in a show of peace.

“I am a huge fan. To be honest, I’m a little embarrassed for the confusion.” The Plagueian took a trepadacious step forward, inching his way towards Tisto. “Can I just say that your fight with Ti’cardii was a work of art! Absolutely beautiful.”

The Kiffar dropped his hands just a touch, feigning pride in TuQ’uan’s obvious lie. He knew the name of everyone he had stepped into the ring with and this Ti’cardii was not one of them.

TuQ’uan took another step forward. Keeping his left hand raised in the air he began lowering his right hand until his blaster was resting back in its holster. As the mercenary withdrew his hand from the now holstered blaster he palmed the inquisitorious stiletto that had been tucked into his belt.

“Would I be able to get an autograph from you?” TuQ’uan thought he saw Kingang relax just a little bit more, or perhaps that’s just what he wanted to see. Tisto was silent, refusing to respond to TuQ’uan’s yammering.

As the mercenary entered striking distance he jabbed at the Force user with his stiletto, the blade gently poked into Tisto’s abdomen leaving just a pinprick in his cloak as the Kiffar pulled back. A hand clamped around TuQ’uan’s wrist and twisted, meanwhile an aggressive kick impacted with the mercenary’s stomach, the combination caused the blade to drop to the ground with a clatter. The Kiffar choked out a breath of air as the Kel Dor balled his free hand into a fist and jabbed at his opponent’s throat.

The two combatants were tangled together, exchanging blows in close range combat as Tisto refused to loosen his grip on the Plagueian’s wrist. A sudden shock coursed through TuQ’uan’s body with the impact of Tisto’s fist to his sternum. The Mercenary’s legs went weak and he stumbled backwards, reaching out and grabbing the Kiffar’s cloak the two opponents went tumbling to the ground as they both held on tight to the other, refusing to let go.

Tisto held onto TuQ’uan as the two tumbled to the ground, using the fall to slam his elbow into the Kel Dor’s chest. In the second it took them to fall, the boxer felt a smile creep onto his face, the excitement of a close quarters brawl bringing forth a surge of adrenaline. Tisto landed on top of TuQ’uan, elbow crashing into the Plagueian’s ribs. He felt his opponent trying to fight back and rolled off of the Kel Dor. Once he was off his opponent, the boxer quickly undid the laches to his cloak, and shoved out his hand, the Force responding to his call. TuQ’uan found himself being shoved across the ground, bouncing around like a thrown rock. The Force User scrambled to his feet, picking up the stiletto and examining it.

Inquisitor? No. They tend to listen to their own files, and mine…

“Alright,” Tisto sighed, “just who in the galaxy are you? I’m clearly not dumb enough to think you are a fan. You aren’t anyone from the ring, because they aren’t dumb enough to challenge me out of it. And you sure as frak aren’t an inquisitor.”

TuQ’uan glared daggers at the boxer. “What do you mean who am I? Do you think I’m not good enough to be an inquisitor?”

“Oh knock off the pride kid,” the Odanite replied, pointing at his armor. “Where do you think I got this from? I killed the guy making my file and left him naked with my file. I’ve never met an Inquisitor stupid enough to ignore that warning.”

Tisto tossed the stiletto towards the Plagueian. “Come at me with all you got kid. Or walk away and admit defeat. Quite honestly I don’t care.”

TuQ’uan shoved himself to his feat, drawing his sith sword. “You are going to regret mocking me Kiffar,” he sputtered.

“No I won’t,” the boxer implied.

Tisto raised his arms, elbows in. He began to shuffle from side to side as he approached. The mercenary grinned, tossing himself to the side, and throwing out a grenade at the incoming Kiffar. Seeing the movement, Tisto threw himself into the ground expecting an explosion. There was a loud boom, and the Kiffar’s ears began to ring. He opened his eyes to see his vision had doubled.

Sonic grenade. Mistakes were made.

Tisto scrambled upward, the ground spinning around him. He couldn’t completely focus on drowning that out with someone armed near him. He could vaguely see TuQ’uan approaching from the corner of his eye. Instinctively he threw up a barrier, trying to buy time to concentrate. There was a sudden flash of movement as something stuck the barrier mere centimeters from the Kiffar’s head. Tisto let the Force flow through him, trying to silence the ringing and bring his senses back into order. Everything cleared up in half a heart beat, though he couldn’t see the Kel Dor once it had. Almost immediately he felt cold steel on his throat, a brief glance down made him regret tossing the stiletto back to his enemy.

“I am the best Plaguies has to offer when it comes to taking out you lighties,” TuQ’uan scoffed. “You are going to--”

The Raider was cut off as his throat began to tighten. Before he could act, an elbow slammed into his diaphragm, wind rushing out of his lungs. The invisible grip on his throat went away as Tisto grabbed TuQ’uan’s wrist, forcing the stiletto out of his grasp. Tisto whipped around, tossing out a roundhouse kick to knock the Kel Dor to the ground. The kick connected, sending the winded Raider crashing into the ground.

“Listen here, kid,” Tisto spat, “I don’t know who the frak you think you are, but the truth is you are nothing. I don’t care what kind of life you lead, or what kind of tricks you like to pull, cause you are on a beach being beaten by a lightie as you so call it. You want to make an enemy of me, fine. Grab a shovel and dig your grave right by the ocean so your corpse will have a nice view. No one has called themselves my enemy and lived. Actually, write down a list of your loved ones so I can go to Plagueis space and kill them too just to make sure no one comes back for revenge. Make sure to include any kids you might have. Don’t want them growing a spine and dying trying to avenge you.”

TuQ’uan sat through the monologue, each word digging into his pride. Once he had finally caught his breathe, he threw himself upwards. The Kiffar had been leaning towards him during the entire speech, and the Raider was going to make him pay. He crashed the top of his head into Tisto’s face, then pushed himself away to avoid getting locked into close quarters once more. As he looked up he could see blood running down the Kiffar’s face, his nose twisted to the side.

“I will kill you Kiffar,” TuQ’uan spat out.

“Always wanted to beat down a Plagueian since the last time our Clans were at war,” Tisto seethed.

The Kiffar ignored to blood escaping from his nose, instead he shook his arm out at his side, rolled his neck from side to side and then moved towards the Kel Dor. As he took a few steps his posture transformed back into that of someone fighting in the shockboxing ring, fists raised up to guard his face while he danced lightly on the palms of his feet.

Having already experienced what it felt like to get into close quarter combat with the professional boxer, TuQ’uan knew he somehow had to keep Tisto out of reach. Knowing exactly how ridiculous it would look, the mercenary drew his Sith Sword and pointed it at Tisto as a challenge.

“Let’s dance,” the Kel Dor whispered under his breath, the wind carried his words to the Kiffar’s ears who simply smirked in response.

TuQ’uan swung the sword in a wide arc aimed directly at the Odanite’s head. Tisto ducked quickly and the blade passed by, slicing off a stray hair from the top of his head. A series of rapid uppercuts pummelled into the Plagueian’s stomach, the force of which drove him back towards the cliff edge . Seething with anger, TuQ’uan dug his heel in and swung his blade again, this time feigning another high attack before swinging low. The attack caught the Kiffar off guard and caused him to stumble as the blade bit into the flesh on his calf.

Tisto dropped to his knees and dropped his head, TuQ’aun saw his opportunity for a killing blow and raised his sword one more time. Before the blade could complete its downward arc the shockboxer punched his balled fist into the stone ground sending out a powerful shockwave of energy. TuQ’uan felt his feet come out from underneath him as the ripple of energy threw him backwards and off the cliff’s edge.

The descent felt like an eternity to the Kel Dor but in reality he only fell two and a half metres. The landing was just as sudden as the take off and with a heavy thud the air rushed out of his lungs and his head cracked against stone, his sword fell a short distance away. TuQ’uan groaned and tried to focus his now blurry vision, standing on the ledge above him was an out of focus figure resembling the Kiffar.

“If you’re the best Plagueis has to offer then the clan has fallen a lot further than I thought,” Tisto said with a smug tone as he wiped the blood from his upper lip.

Taking a deep breath the Odanite drew the Force towards fresh wound. Suddenly the trickle of blood running down his calf stopped, the skin around the gash began to swell, and finally the skin puckered as the wound almost completely disappeared. While a dull throb still remained, it would not bother Tisto near as much as the open wound would have.

Taking advantage of the lull in the battle, TuQ’uan rolled over and tried to drag himself away from the imposing juggernaut, his head still swimming. He heard a thump off the ground behind him as Tisto landed behind the Kel Dor, a small tinge of pain shooting through his leg. The mercenary gathered his strength and pushed himself up and onto his feet, gathering up his hat and Sith Sword he stood up and gave his head a shake, still trying to clear the fog from his head.

Waves crashed up against the sides of the rocky cliffs. The commotion above had drawn the attention Tsw’ells, their tentacles whipped around in a frenzy, getting closer and closer to where the two combatants stood near the ledge. Tisto slowly and methodically walked forwards, like a Lothwolf stalking its prey, ready to pounce at any moment. TuQ’uan replaced his sword for his blaster and backed up, keeping the cliff to his right and drawing his opponent closer to the edge.

“One way or another, only one of us is leaving here alive,” Tisto chuckled.

“Are there any messages you want me to pass along for you?” The ground began to tremble as tentacles smashed angrily against the stone, water from the ocean below splashed all around.

The smirk on the Odanite’s face disappeared in an instant.

“You are bold, aren’t you?”

Tisto quickened his pace towards his quarry. TuQ’uan opened fire on the enclosing enemy while continuing his retreat backwards, the bump on his head seemed to effect his aim and the plasma bolts whizzed past the Kiffar, narrowly missing their target. The Tsw’ell tentacles slammed down with increasing frequency, swiping across the ground and flailing through the air. Drawing on the Force, Tisto launched himself up and over a tentacle that landed ahead blocking his path.

A massive thud came from behind TuQ’uan causing the Kel Dor’s legs to wobble. The mercenary’s feet slipped on the wet stone and he fell back onto the wet and squishy tentacle of a Tsw’ell. Suddenly TuQ’uan was rushing towards Tisto at a startling speed. As Tisto dove to the side and the Kel Dor continued moving forward he realized that it wasn’t the Force users doing, but that he was being swept away by a Tsw’ell.

“Oh. Frak.” the Plagueian thought to himself as the edge of the cliff rushed up to meet him.

“Well that was a little disappointing,” Tisto muttered to himself as watched his opponent disappear into the ocean, he wished that he could have finished off that cocky Kel Dor himself. The wind whipped around the Kiffar as he made his was back to his ship, this planet had been ruined for him now.

Tisto slid back into his typical stance,the pain from his nose fading as he called on the Force to numb it. He watched the Kel Dor put his hand on the hilt of a sword and hesitated.

He had that out before. Must have put it back after hitting the barrier. Smart move on his part. Can’t engage incase he tries a draw cut. Could use someone like him on my side. Frak, probably ruined any chance I could get him on my side. Then again he seems to care about that stupid Force religion. Best solution is probably non lethal. Damned. Well, might as well play on his pride

The Kiffar dropped out of the boxer stance to grab his belt pouch. He loosed the strap on it, and called on the Force as he threw it as his opponent. The pouch crossed the distance, opening up halfway through to spill out a shower of credit chips. Tu’Quan threw himself into a roll to avoid the incoming projectiles, ending in a kneeling position to catch his breath. The Kel Dor forced himself back up, drawing his sword to try and keep Tisto at bay. There was a seconds pause as the two stared each other down.

The Kiffar ended the stare down to call upon the Force, this time using it to pull upon the Plagueian. Tu’Quan was ripped from where he stood, flying towards Tisto. He desperately swung his sith sword at the boxer, getting a long but shallow cut in Tisto’s left arm. The Kiffar’s right hand slammed into the Kel Dor’s chest, the discharge from the hit causing Tu’Quan’s heart to skip a beat.

The Plagueian landed face first into the ground once more. He struggled to get up, only for a large weight to slam into his back as Tisto drop kicked him. The boxer followed it up, by bringing his right fist down to crack against the Kel Dor’s spine. The shock arced through Tu’Quan’s nerves, pain erupting beyond the strike. Tisto punched down twice more, both hitting his foes spine again. Electricity ran from the glove into the Plagueian’s back twice more, each time hurting worse than the last as it began to burn his nerves.

“Listen here assassin,” Tisto remarked, “You are honestly pretty good in a scrap. You just chose to fight the wrong guy. And I would hate to kill such a skilled professional. And you do have great taste in hats. I am more than happy to fight until the tides rise and the Tsw’ells kill us both, but let's be real here. I can last through that fight. You are going to get tired.”

“You think I am going to just let you walk away?! I am-” Tu’Quan barked.

“Will you shut up?” The boxer interrupted. “You may be the best in your particular speciality, but you chose the wrong fight today. You are clearly not the best in every category. Look at the situation you are in. I beat you. Now are you willing to listen to my terms?”

“If I had found you in a better place for me,” the Kel Dor sighed, “you would be dead. Alright, what are your terms?”

“You might have been able to beat me,” Tisto admitted. “My terms are not complicated. You can walk around saying you fought me and lived to tell the tale because I was impressed by you. You can take the credit chips from here as well. I think there is five hundred credits between them. If we meet on the battlefield on opposite sides, feel free to go all out as your lightside darkside religion requires.”

The Plagueian hesitated for a second, then brushed passed the religion comment. “So it's all good for me. I don’t buy it what do you get?”

“Does that even matter to you?” the Kiffar confided. “I may hire you if you do mercenary work. Haven’t decided yet. Or it could be that I am looking forward to fighting you again. Who knows. I’m a criminal. I don’t have to make any sense to you.”

“Fine,” Tu’Quan relented. “Get off me.”

Tisto didn’t say anything, instead he stood up and began to walk away. He kept an eye on the Kel Dor incase he went for his blaster again. Tu’Quan stared back, but made no movement outside of trying to push himself up, only to fall back down from the pain in his back. The Kiffar stopped, sighed to himself, and walked back over, placing a hand over the Plagueian’s back.

“You tell anyone I did this,” Tisto muttered just loud enough for Tu’Quan to hear, “And I will drag you back here and feed you to the Tsw’ells.”

Tisto felt the Force respond to his call, pouring into the Kel Dor. He directed it to the damaged nerves and parts of Tu’Quan’s spine. After a few moments, Tisto got up.

“You get up while you are still in my sight,” Tisto warned. “Or even think of touching a weapon and I will come back and beat you down again.”

“Then get moving. I want to be able to leave before the tides rise,” Tu’Quan shot back.