To walk upon the surface of Nancora is to take a path akin to a death sentence. That is how it earned its moniker: the Badlands. The Nancora system's star scorched the earth long ago, leaving a barren, sun-bleached surface behind. The soil remains as nothing but dust and left to the winds mercy. But there is none, as dust storms can form without warning and charge across the wastelands as roaring behemoths. The only shelter to be found lies scattered in the form of ruins of a time long past.

Spires and wreckage claw up through the cracked surface, giving the appearance of a planet-spanning junkyard. It is there that the Technocratic Guild gathers much of their resources, repurposing what once was into materials for new fabrications. At the same time, the most dangerous of these ruinous death-traps show the signs of the Technocratic elite's rigorous training. With a central spire rising from beneath a mound of wreckage, fresh scorch marks pocket the landscape of rising dunes in a circular clearing alongside the sand scraped remains of those who failed. A labyrinthian ring of partially unearthed structures closes in this area, providing some semblance of cover from the passing storms but nearly as dangerous themselves due to their weakened state. One wrong step can lead to collapse.

Very few come to the Badlands of Nancora. Fewer still make it out again.

Eleceos’ comlink continued to bleep. The ship that had drawn the young Miraluka to the former Technocratic Guild stronghold of Nancora was still broadcasting its distress beacon.

“It should be just over here,” Eleceos stated softly, addressing his companion, Ashyrith.

Meanwhile, perched atop her spaceship, a female Human licked her lips, her flame coloured hair wisping about in the light breeze as she waited for her prey to move into the sights of her sniper rifle.

Prackx grit her teeth as Eleceos came into view, her finger squeezing the trigger.

The young man was already dodging the shot. The powerful burst of plasma fizzed harmlessly into the ground.

What in the name of Palpatine? I never miss! Granta Prackx thought to herself, briefly wondering if something was wrong with her weapon.

“We need to keep moving, Ashyrith!” Eleceos warned, his Cythraul offering a low growl in reply.

Completely blind though he was, the Force allowed the Arcanist to see his would-be assassin as a figure of red hot anger some way ahead of him. He noticed, however, that her left arm appeared to be cut off at the wrist. It was also thanks to his abilities with the Force that he had been able to avoid the initial shot, but his rather long-sighted visions of the future didn’t give him enough of an insight as to where the next shots were going to hit.

With the element of surprise no longer at her disposal, Prackx found her target to be moving around far too much to successfully draw a bead on him. She climbed to her feet, stowing her sniper rifle in the sling on her back. By the time she had clambered down from the top of her ship, Polarising Personality, Eleceos was much closer.

The female’s organic hand moved towards the hilt of her lightsaber.

“Do you have some kind of death wish?” Granta hissed.

“No. But you must do. What do you think will come of making threats against Arcona?” Eleceos challenged.

“They may have information regarding what happened to my father. Would you not do the same if family were involved?” Prackx responded coolly.

“From what I know about you, Granta Prackx, you see little value in family. Don’t think that we don’t know about your obsessions. Nor will we forget that you were once in the service of an enemy of Arcona. One that nearly killed my dear cousin,” the Miraluka stated The Juggernaut looked unimpressed. “Oh? Your cousin?” she queried, studying the young Arconan. “I’m going to have to guess you mean Atyiru. She’s the only other one of you eyeless little freaks that I’ve heard of,”

“That’s correct. But that is not why I am here. Nor was I foolish enough to fall for the fake distress beacon ruse. The Force already told me you were here, Granta. I’ve come here to tell you to leave Arcona alone. Before they’re forced to send someone to deal with you,” Araave answered.

“I’ve destroyed men twice your size. What makes you think that I would listen to you?” Prackx demanded.

“I didn’t expect that you’d listen to me. But maybe you’ll understand her!” the Arconan replied, gesturing over to Ashyrith.

“Kind of cute. A boy and his dog. How about I teach her a new trick?” Granta said, staring straight at the Cythraul. Ashyrith snarled, sensing the Sith’s hostility, but waited patiently for a go ahead from her Miraluka master.

“Whatever you’re thinking, I wouldn’t try it,” Eleceos warned.

“Try to stop me, boy!” Prackx snapped, extending her right arm in the direction of the Cythraul. Moments later, Ashyrith found herself thrown high into the air, yelping with confusion. She landed a fair distance away, far enough that neither her master nor her attacker could ascertain how badly she was hurt. The whimpers of pain were enough, however, to elicit a reaction from Eleceos.

“How dare you hurt her!” the Miraluka roared, charging at the giant Human, his lightsaber seemingly jumping into his hand.

Prackx simply smirked as she activated her own lightsaber, parrying away Eleceos’ initial attack, her strength easily nullifying any power that the young man had put behind his attack.

“Let the dark side drive you, boy!” Granta shouted as she moved into the stance of her Soresu form.

He didn’t know if it was his fear for Ashyrith’s safety, or perhaps even his prolonged exposure to Satsi Tameike and their long training sessions. He wasn’t sure if it was the Dark Side’s influence, or maybe pent up aggression over the current situation with his cousin’s return from the dead. The only thing Eleceos did know was he had charged headfirst into a fight with a vastly more experienced and physically skilled opponent, and he didn’t know why. His wits yelled at him for his foolish straightforwardness while the Force screamed for him to be careful and use good judgment, but something overrode his sense of self-preservation.

Lightsabers clashed as the two foes engaged in a deadly exchange. Eleceos had trained extensively to try and master his skills in the “resilience form” and he fought to keep his impenetrable defenses at their highest level. The Force guided his actions, and he listened to all of his senses to best interpret and predict the flow of battle. Unfortunately, he still suffered from his lifelong frailty. And though he had increased his physical strength, Granta proved to be the vastly superior combatant in terms of brute force and training.

Entirely placed on the defensive, Eleceos began to sweat. The Miraluka had quickly rebounded a crushing overhead strike, but the momentum behind the attack had left his arm shaken. The human woman radiated hatred and malice as she landed a whirlwind of efficiently timed and placed blows at the much younger boy. While she was similarly employing Soresu, a form lauded for its defensive prowess, her dominance in combat, a result of years of imperial training, made her offensive capabilities almost too much for the young Arconan.

Granta’s smirk never left her face as her relentless assault on the boy in front of her continued. She applauded his protective instincts and could tell that he was well trained, but he was weak. And weaknesses could be taken advantage of. She briefly backed away from her barrage and, without pause, channeled the Dark Side of the Force into her body. She could feel the muscles in her arms emanating with the raw power it gave her. Rewinding, she put forth the full potential of her increased strength into a single blow.

Eleceos felt the Force singing within his mind. The warning was clear...danger. The womanly shaped mass of evil and redness grew brighter. Her encroaching attack was imminent. Planting himself into position and reading his bulwark defense, Eleceos readied himself for the next blow. While his life may have been saved from a crushing death, the sheer power behind the strike was too much for the young Miraluka. His body lifted from the ground and was sent sprawling back against the rocky terrain. The star scorched earth left its mark on the Force Disciples’ clothing, marrying them with reddish-brown stains as he rolled across the dirt.

Eleceos felt shaken. He tried to stand and realized that his lightsaber was missing, knocked free from his grasp in the previous exchange. His muscles screamed in pain and fear set in his mind. He only had one logical option at his disposal, a retreat for cover and waiting for a better chance to strike. Turning tail and allowing the Force and his senses to guide him, he hoped to find some safety within the ruins nearby.

Granta watched the boy running away with a look of intense disdain plastered across her face. The coward was running away, but he wouldn’t get far. His blindness would be a hindrance in this rocky terrain. And while he may hide, the hunter within her longed for the feel of crushing her prey. Stalking off in his direction, Granta thought of the one she desired

“My Andrel, today I give you your revenge. Today, one of Atyiru’s line is no more.”

…

As he ran through the abandoned ruins, Eleceos found himself tiring. He needed to find shelter, even for a moment. His arms still screamed in pain as his muscles contracted and spasmed. Turning a corner, he reached out to the Force and searched for his pursuer. Finding nothing nearby, he felt momentarily secure. He took a deep breath and centered himself. Channeling the Force into his arms, he felt its soothing embrace. The cooling sensation that flooded his muscles caused him to let out an involuntary groan of relief. Silently he sent out a prayer to Ashla, as his cousin had always instructed him too. The Light Side was within him. His rejuvenated peace cleared his mind of his previous cloudiness.

“Ashyrith, I’ll come find you. Don’t worry, girl,” he whispered, hoping his words might reach her through the Force. She was hurt, and he needed to go to her. “Why did we even come here…?”

His mission was given to him by his instructor Satsi. She wanted to expose him to the galaxy and all of its hardships. He was weak, and her goal was to toughen him up. While their student/teacher relationship was newer, he still wanted to impress her and make the woman proud. But pride at the expense of his loyal protector’s life was not worth it to him. As it stood, a job needed doing. A small part of him wanted to see if he could carry it through.

His arms felt better, though not at one hundred percent. Granta would find him. It was only a matter of when. Eleceos was nobodies prey, so he decided to do some hunting of his own. Grasping his bow, and taking another deep breath, the Arconan was ready to turn the tides of this fight. He wouldn’t lose, he couldn’t. There was still too much to do.