Lava is mined as a precious natural resource on this volatile and volcanic world. The opposing gravitational forces of the twin gas giants closest to Mustafar tear apart the planet’s surface to reveal the mineral-rich lava flows underneath. Once serving as the capital world for the Confederacy of Independent Systems, remnants of their past influence still linger. Massive mining facilities—originally constructed by the Techno Union—are still maintained by the native Mustafarians, an egocentric people who would like nothing more than to squeeze minerals for the purposes of trade and commerce from their volcanic planet.

Other than in the pursuit of business interests, few arrive on Mustafar save for those needing to incinerate evidence in its vast expanses of magma. What little curiosity is given to the volcanic planet is thwarted by a natural scanning interference caused by intense geological activity. Pirates, smugglers, criminals and scum all value this world’s ability to dump bodies, tracked cargo shipments and other unwanted articles—the singular reason for the Black Sun’s interest in the Outer Rim world.

Droids, machines and conveyor belts create the workings of an efficient system to extract the minerals and have it prepared for refinement and transportation. Lacking a suitable surface, metal walkways are shielded against the heat to allow workers passage throughout the facilities. Even with the worst of the heat being shielded against, Mustafar’s temperature remains less than comfortable to most species lacking exoskeletons.

Beyond the blistering heat of the volcanic world, Mustafar served as the battlefield for the fabled final duel between Obi Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker.

The inferno known as Mustafar was a dark place basked in the constant glow of lava flows. Its churning surface, bubbling and hot, was an attraction to specific groups of sentients. New arrivals were either Sith on a quest for power, Scoundrels seeking fortune, or miners foolishly seeking employment. There was no in between and tourists were typically smart enough to erase it from their bucket-list of worlds to visit.

Sulfuric smog swirled up from the charred surface. It engulfed the stationary objects that were strewn about with a unique density. One such object was a rather long grated walkway. On the walkway, slicing through the poisonous cloud, was a cloaked figure. It was smaller in stature, this being. Difficult to tell who or even what it was. Only the lower half of its face could be seen beneath the deep hood but the skin was red and as fiery as the surface of the planet it occupied. It had pale eyes that could be seen flashing to and fro as the brim of the hood flicked upward sporadically. It was clear that it was searching for something as its gangly fingers stroked its chin. A task? A mission? An object?

No, there was more, the Darkside let it be known. Reading the landscape like a tome, the figure stood, rooted in place. There was something deeply disturbing about Mustafar but also powerful. It had a strange beauty that the figure briefly admired. 

A sharp whistle broke the monotony of the rumbling ambiance and the smoke behind the figure began to swirl as something approached with haste. Bounding forward, a black creature with matted fur and glowing eyes broke through, spinning with excitement. It was an Anooba, mangy but fiercly loyal.

"Hadzuska," the figure spoke, "What have you found?" 

Immediately twisting back around, the creature's powerful haunches carried it back through the smoke from whence it came. The figure, tearing free from its moorings entered a sprint in pursuit. The hood tore free from a visibly horned cranium and long black and red hair fixed into a ponytail bounced as the demonic figure could finally be identified. An Male Elomin, far from the reaches of the icy tundra his species called home.

Cresting over a large black gravel hill, the Elomin slid to a halt and gazed down on a group of individuals surrounding a ship that hummed with activity. They were loading and off-loading crates. Worker droids did most of the work but there was an overseer, clearly a boss of some kind, barking orders. It was a Zeltron with a musculature that the Elomin clearly hadn't seen in a member of that species before. The pink skinned shouter was definitely large and imposing. 

Intrigue washed over the Elomin's features, he was curious as to what was being packaged. He could feel Darkside energies below, perhaps emanating from artifacts of some sort?

"Come," he commanded the Anooba and walking down the hill with the gnarled creature in tow, he made his presence known before getting too close. After all, he didn't want to startle anyone until he knew for sure what was transpiring. 

"Hello!" the Elomin shouted in an accented basic, "Apologies, sir. I do not wish to impose. I was just wondering if I could trouble you for water?"

Flashing a single hand, the Zeltron froze progress and tilted his head. His eyes shifted up and down as it measured the stranger. 

"Water?" he laughed sarcastically, "Come on down, friend!" the Zeltron was clearly suspicious, his body language spoke volumes. 

"Ah, good, good. My name is Corvo." The Elomin bowed his head in respect and thanks as he too was overwhelmed with suspicion. 

"Corvo, huh?" the Zeltron tossed a canteen. "Name's Sage. What brings you out here, 'specially unprepared?" 

Corvo conjured a lie as quickly as he knew how. "I was part of an excavation group and got separated from my team." 

"Odd, I haven't heard of any excavations running on this side of the valley." 

"Unsanctioned of course."  

The Zeltron grumbled, perhaps revealing too much about his own agenda "Ah, yeh. I've been trying to make a quick cred. These crates are going for a nice payout. dunno what's in'em though." he kicked the side of a crate.

"You were never tempted to open one?" the Elomin's boney fingers rubbed the lid as he felt the Force. 

"Easy, there." the Zeltron clenched his fists. "I'm not paid to know what's in'em. I just ship'em. Just wanna get it over with as quick as possible. I hate this scorched hell hole." 

Corvo's brow jolted as he felt an increase in tension.

"Perhaps I could relieve you of this burden?" Corvo's words were dripping with venomous intent

"Maybe you should just move on!"

"Or maybe I shouldnt?" 

"Is that so?" the Zeltron bit back, clearly not used to being talked to in such a way as he stepped forward and slammed his hand down on top of the crate. 

The Elomin's lids narrowed and as he turned his head to lock eyes, he flashed a sinister smirk.

"I think I'll stay."

Anger began to well up inside of the Zeltron until it spilled over with a surprise left hook that the Elomin was able to duck as he saw the first few moments of what was going to happen before they actually happened. 

A follow up jab just missed its mark as Corvo backpedaled and with a spin, he slipped out of his cloak. A series of tattoos were seen adorning his chest and the rather large piece on his back climbed it's way onto his cranium. 

Hadzuska snarled and hunched his back but Corvo silenced him to a low growl by holding up two fingers. 

The Zeltron's lips unfurled into a snarl as he saw a Lightsaber hilt hanging from the stranger's left hip and growled as two blackened swords slipped out of their sheathes. 

"This is how you want it, huh?" the loudmouthed Zeltron pondered, "Do you know who I am?!" he bragged , raising his arms to an invisible crowd before rolling his shoulders to loosen them. "This'll be fun."

Corvo rolled his swords with flare as he readied himself. "You're a confident one aren't you?" he smiled. "Tu'iea akcij." he added in an ancient Sith dialect, welcoming what was to come. 

Seeing his opponent draw his weapons, Sage reached for his back pockets. From there he grabbed the only belonging that usually accompanies him during that kind of operations. He adjusted his brass knuckler on his left hand before throwing the second one up in the air.

“You know”, he said catching the rotating knuckler and wearing it, “I don’t usually deal with wimps such as yourself.”

The Zeltron strode away from the unloaded crates, into the opening of the crater his transport ship had landed. He cracked his neck and fingers before taking off his coat and handing it to one of his goons.

“But I think I’ll make an exception this time.” He said, standing tall and proud in the center of the crater.

Corvo stood motionless, ever careful of what trick his opponent could have in store for him.

“I’ll let you hit me once,” the mighty red Zeltron announced, gesturing towards his toned belly, “right here. But you better make it count.”

“You won’t trick me with that you know?” Corvo declined. He had dealt with the likes of Sage before. Trying to offer your opponent a free blow was a famous tactic used by those who had other intentions ready.

The short Elomin gathered his thoughts. There was much to gain from raiding a smuggler’s belongings, specially when the content bore such a strong Force pull. “He isn’t Force sensitive” Corvo deduced. He couldn’t, otherwise he would’ve felt the same tempting pull that he was feeling now. A pull that clouded his mind with thoughts of anger, and an ever-growing curiosity, which was now turning to fury. A fury he could harness to fight by his side.

“Why would I lie to you?” Sage yelled. The Zeltron was starting to get annoyed by this encounter. He did have a schedule to follow, and his buyers always expected perfection from his band. He opened his arms wide and gestured a challenge with his fingers, signaling Corvo to come.

The Elomin ran quickly. His small stature and overall fine physique allowed him swift and controlled movements of his body. As he closed the distance between him and Sage, he noticed the Zeltron was still immobile in his defiance stance. His eyes caught glimpse of Sage’s when he veered fast towards the right. Nothing but conviction filled the mighty Zeltron’s gaze. A conviction Corvo was keen on destroying with the slash of his blades.

With a crossed pattern, the nimble Elomin struck his foe’s chest. The sound of metal echoed through the crater. Everyone present was silent. Even the wild winds of Mustafar had calmed down moments prior to the confrontation. Corvo looked up. His blades had been parried by Sage’s fist, using his left brass knuckler. He had used all his strength on the blow, yet the Zeltron was showing no signs of effort in holding him down.

“I gave you a chance.” He said. “You swing on ‘The Boss’, you better not miss!”

Corvo sensed the incoming attack but could only do as much as closing his arms near his chest to try and block some of the impact. Pain, a lot of it, went through his arms and across his body as Sage rotated his right arm back and then violently struck the Elomin, sending his opponent back and rolling on the ground several meters.

Corvo panted for a while before regaining his strength and getting back up. His forearms ached, his left one feeling numb. With full concentration, he mustered his thoughts and contained the pain, diminishing it to a bearable but present discomfort.

“That’ll have to do.” He thought.

Sage was still on the same spot he had planted his feet before the fight had started. The tall Zeltron was keen on getting it over quick, but wasn’t about to move unnecessarily, especially cause he knew the Elomin would not give up on whatever he had his eyes set upon.

“Ya have anything else to fight with?” He challenged. “Perhaps that little toy you carry on your belt?”

Corvo placed his right hand on his Lightsaber hilt. “It’s a Lightsaber you idiot.” He mumbled to himself. Perhaps it was time to show the Zeltron what a Sith could do with a proper weapon.

The Elomin grabbed his Lightsaber and lit it on. A buzzing red glowing blade cast an ominous glow on Corvo’s figure. He held it above his head, holding the hilt right in its center and horizontally to the ground. He also bent his knees and turned slightly to the right, as he had been taught not to expose much of his body.

Not saying a word, the Elomin sprung forward, dashing towards Sage. The Zeltron braced for the incoming attack with a jump backwards, being missed by the downwards slash Corvo had dealt. Without wasting a breath, the Elomin spun around with his blade, this time holding it with both his hands for further grip and stability. Sage was forced to roll away to a safe distance.

“Hey!” He yelled. “These are my nice pan…” He was interrupted by the flurry of slashes. One after another, the slashes were growing faster, and stronger, much to Sage’s annoyance.

Corvo landed a few slashes on the Zeltron. His pants had been ripped in three distinct places, one of the slashes having even drawn blood. A red blot filled the hole on his right leg. Another slash had hit him on his left side torso. This one was a bit deeper.

The Zeltron tried to analyze Corvo’s fighting style. It was rather random as he was dealing blow after blow, not following any specific combination of sorts. Sage wasn’t familiar with many blade fighters, or bladed fighting styles. And as the Elomin was still holding the Lightsaber with both his hands, the Zeltron had no clue to what hand was his strong hand.

Taking a gamble, Sage dodged another slash. This time, however, he didn’t veer back, but went forward, coming face to face with Corvo, which caused him to lose focus.

Sage grabbed Corvo’s right arm and lift his left hand up, clenched in a very hard fist. The Elomin tried to cover his face, fearing for it. But that wasn’t the target Sage was looking for. Instead, the Zeltron jabbed as hard as he could on Corvo’s left elbow. The Elomin cried in pain and tried to get loose of the towering Zeltron’s hold. Sage, wanting to help him with that, lift him up and threw him away.

Corvo had fell near some rocks. The dust lifted by the impact, combined with the wind which was raising again caused him to disappear from Sage’s field of view.

The Boss, convinced he had taken care of the trash, turned his back and walked away.

“Gah!” He grumbled. “Probably shouldn’t have worn my nice pants for this.”