As you walk through the swampy jungle to the South, you enter the ancient ruins of the Dark Temple. Abandoned and forgotten, the temple has slowly succumbed to the erosion of time. Before you lies the central chamber—the walls have crumbled, the ceiling caved in, and the jungle now flourishes within the once pristine halls.

Green light filters itself through the temple, mixing eerily with the dark, violet hue of Dromund Kaas' sky. Lightning flickers overhead, the raw energy of the Force clashing high above. The floor is overgrown with flora, large plants and grasses that have swallowed the old stone. Wild creatures roam freely, skittering away from your presence, but your heightened senses can feel the brush of vicious predators, hiding just out of sight.

The main hall is lined on both sides by towering statues, heads bowed in supplication. They stand in deference to the sculpture of a pureblooded Sith, which towers over the chamber with outstretched arms. The sculpture has been split diagonally down the middle, as if cleaved in two by a rusted blade, but you can still feel the majesty in the stone.

On either side of the main hall, remnants of branches to inaccessible parts of the temple remain. Ignoring those, your head tilts to take in what is left of the mezzanine—the balcony overlooking the chamber—still held aloft by the great pillars standing behind the statues. Several of the pillars have fallen, providing a pathway up to the mezzanine for those willing to take the risk for higher ground.

You can feel the danger of the temple. Sense the spirits of the Sith that still haunt the grounds, waiting for poor, misguided fools to walk blindly into their domain. Now, they have two souls to consume… that is, if you and your opponent don't destroy each other first.

Whispers.

Hunger.

That is what Samael heard in his head as he lingered in the shadows afforded by stairs that led to the balcony, a possible method of retreat if necessary. He looked at his victim, the fresh corpse of a girl he had kidnapped. Abrasions and scars crossed her abdomen, and the words “Boogeyman” were carved over and over again on her back. Samael was covered in blood, having cut open her chest and throwing her lungs over her shoulders. He loved the sight of blood eagles, and this one was especially lovely. Her lungs were just starting to be touched by cancer brought on by death sticks.

The Sith heard a noise, like branches snapping, and he slunked down into the shadows. He avoided the light and observed, hearing the whispers of the dead’s former glory and the roaring hunger that was nature. It consumed what was abandoned, retaking the land in quiet struggle. Roots made cracked through the surface and sprawled outward, growing strong in what light they could take in. It made a terrible terrain for footwork, but there was no music to be heard. No fight was necessary.

Samael darted out from beneath the shadows and quickly sprinted towards some more, these given by a wall that blocked enough light to cast one. It wasn’t that the Boogeyman of Taras didn’t like being in light, he just preferred to stay hidden. The Sith closed his eyes and focused, the darkness consuming his thoughts and plucking at the embers of his rage to amplify his consciousness. Like a bird spreading its wings, he reached out and plucked the thoughts of a nearby sentient, meeting resistance to his efforts at entering. The Umbaran smiled, knowing he had found the one he would try and break. He would be remembered, and when anyone looked upon his face they would see Samael staring back at them. The Sith smiled as he stalked from lingering shadow to shadow, trying his best to sneak up on his prey.

The closer he got to his mark, the more interested in his target he became. Samael closed his eyes and focused again, taking his hatred towards his failure and launching against the human. The Umbaran wielded it like a drill and splashed against his mark’s consciousness, cracking it and causing the human to start looking around for the invader. Samael smiled as he felt the inside of this new mind, and cackled with glee as he picked through the numerous innocents that the one known as Turel had killed. A kindred spirit, found at last.

The Umbaran looked through the memories and brought them to the surface. Samael lingered on the death of Vera Nost the most, loving the sweet taste of her death. The innocence lost with her death. The sight of her within the Obelish caused him to reject Samael, who had begun to lose his focus as he relished what he saw. Turel would be remembered, just as Samael would be. They were one in the same, just the Umbaran was further down the line. Darkness had consumed the Sith whereas Turel seemed to cling to old ideals. He denied his demons, whereas Samael had fed them.

The Umbaran kneeled in the shadows and picked up a rock, throwing it hard against one of the trees. It made a large whack and was accompanied by the fluttering of birds and the scurrying of animals. The Obelisk was being invited to find him. Vera Nost still floated around his memory, Samael clinging to the images like a child to a teddy bear. The Umbaran could sense the Obelisk much better now, developing a quick mental connection with him again.
Hello Turel

He toyed with the Obelisk, taking control of a rodent that was fleeing from them and sending him scurrying up the Arconae’s leg. He swatted the creature away and a light chuckle could be heard.

“I like games, but really?” said the Obelisk, “Come on out, I don’t bite.”

But I might

Samael smiled as he popped out of his hiding place and gazed at the Human. The Umbaran played with his beard for a second, his fingers swirling strands of hair in them as he walked towards Turel. The Sith bowed, grabbing hold of his lightsaber just in case. Turel had his hand on his pistol, ready at a moment’s notice.

“I mean you no harm.” said the Umbaran, “I just merely wanted to say I love your work.”

The Obelisk stared at the Sith, cocking his head slightly and unholstering the pistol. Samael’s eyes looked at the weapon, looked back at Turel, and then returned to the weapon. He made a disappointed face, and begun to focus on the fingers of the Obelisk. Tendrils of energy wrapped around them as Samael spoke the words Vera Nost. Turel’s eyes widened and the Umbaran could feel the air grow warm from the anger that the Obelisk held back.

Turel’s eyes fell to his blaster, and in that split second, Samael was gone. Back in the shadows, the Umbaran had initiated the game. Back in the shadows, where Samael felt at ease and enjoyed watching his prey. Turel glared into the shadows and tried to find his target, listening to see if he could hear the intruder. Silence fell on his ears, nature having reclaimed parts of it and making it hard to hear footsteps. Samael smiled as he probed his opponents mind, the mental energy placed upon holding up a block entertaining the Umbaran. He loved those who played hard to get, who tried to fight. He loathed those who could win.

This place represents you, Turel

The Obelisk glared into the darkness as he felt the presence of the Sith crawl around his skull, tapping against the edges.  The dark side that surrounded the once Jedi was similar to nature slowly reclaiming what it once had.  Darkness always came back to reclaim what it once called its own, and the harder one fights against that rule the harder they fall.  

“I was once like you.” said Samael from the darkness, his voice seeming to come from everywhere, “Fighting my inner urges, regretting past mistakes.  I have my own Vera Nost’s, my own bad dreams.  But the longer you run from them, longer you take shame in them, the harder they’ll hit you when they take over.” 
“I don’t do that!” snarled Turel, “I regret what I’ve done, but I’ve faced my demons.  They don’t control me.” 
“Yet.” cackled Samael from the shadows, the voices swirling around Turel and flapping in his ears.  The laughter ensnared the Obelisk, filling his mind and showing him images of a decayed corpse.  Turel began to search for his enemy, to banish the image one way or another.  All he could see was the green flesh, rotting and covered in maggots, staring back him.  Puss ridden eyes squished by someone’s thumbs glared at Turel as he tried his best to find Samael.  The corpse followed him wherever he went, and the longer he denied looking the more hateful the expression of the corpse became.  Bones began to jut out of it as it stepped forward, deteriorating rapidly.  Crunches and snaps could be heard as flesh tore off them, the weight of the meat too heavy for the decayed frame.  

Samael leaped from his position, far in the back of the temple by the stairs that led upward.  Turel saw the blur of pale skin and rushed over to where he was, withdrawing his blaster and firing when he saw where he thought the Sith was. The scent of ozone rushed into his nostrils as he gazed upon his handiwork.  Singed stone and blasted rock glared back at him, and the sound of laughter was heard in his ears.  He turned around, and there was Samael.  

Turel pointed the blaster at him, to which Samael held his hands up. Turel noted, however, that one of them held a lightsaber still.  
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you.” said Turel. 
“Jedi don’t kill.  Besides, we are of the same Brotherhood.” said Samael. 

“Why the illusions? Why the tricks?” “Why the gun?” asked Samael, looking at the blaster, then back at Turel. “You haven’t given me any reason for why not the gun, that’s why.” said Turel, “Now why the tricks?” “I was going to kill you, take my knife and carve my name in Ancient Sith in your chest. I was going to rip you away, piece by piece, and bathe in your blood. I was going to taste your flesh, and make a pouch out of your skin. But then I thought, there are some big beasts out here. I’d much rather have an Obelisk at my side to do my heavy lifting than have a play thing and a new pouch. Besides, Why kill each other here, where no one can see? Why not do it later, where it can be remembered?” “At least you were honest.” said Turel, not lowering his blaster.
“I pride myself on my honesty. Unless it doesn’t get me what I need.” said Samael with a smile, “So partners? For now?” “You stay out of my head, and we’re partners. You ever bring up that girl again, and this night will be the last night of your life. Got it?” Samael bowed, placing one hand behind his back with two crossed fingers. “Got it.” “You lead the way, I want to keep my eyes on you.”

Samael smiled, feeling the stare of his new found friend’s blaster on his back. It was a strange dance, making sure to not get shot. He enjoyed toying with the Obelisk, but didn’t want to push him too far and get killed. Now it was all a test of if they could survive the way that would place them on their merry way.

The Umbaran smiled and turned over his shoulder to the Obelisk pointing a slugthrower at his back, “I can take you to the team you are looking for.”

Turel slowed his pace and tightened his grip on the slugthrower as a chill shot down his spine. He hadn’t said anything about his mission from the Shadow Academy to locate a team of intel analysts and archaeologists. They had reportedly found a key artifact within the Dark Temple before falling out of contact. If this creepy Umbaran knew about the team, he probably knew about the artifact.

“Stop. Tell me where they are right now.”

Samael turned around to face Turel with both his hands in the air. “Oh they are still inside the temple, if you follow me I’ll take you to them.” The Sith locked eyes with the Obelisk and spoke with a soothing yet chilling tone, “There’s no need for violence, I’m not a threat to you. Just put the gun down and follow me.” Samael noticed Turel’s grip on the pistol loosen a bit. “We’re partners remember?”

Turel holstered his pistol but couldn’t say exactly why. It just made sense at the time. It was so hard to think clearly in that place. The sheer power of the Dark Side in that place made him feel cold and nauseous on the inside. The longer Samael started into his eyes the harder it was for Turel to remember why he was angry with the Umbaran in the first place.

The Templar closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head in an effort to regain focus. A thick fog was clouding his mind, but he didn’t know if it was coming from the Umbaran or the Temple itself. “Yeah, partners. Just take me to them and don’t try to pull anything or I’ll put a slug round through your head.”

Samael turned around and began to lead Turel deeper into the temple, “Of course. The team leader is right this way. Nice lady, I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”

The pair moved through the central chamber and through a side passage illuminated by lighting fixtures emplaced by the archaeology team. The soft hum of the generators and the sound of footsteps broke the eerie silence. Cobwebs lined the crumbling stone walls of the ancient passage. The air was stale and sickening like a tomb.

Turel placed his hand on his forehead and closed his eyes for a moment overcome with the Dark Force aura that grew stronger with every step. His place slowed until he stopped. Despite being an Obelisk he rarely touched the Dark Side, still relying on his Jedi training and the Light Side for his powers. He felt a growing chill deep in his bones and a knot in his stomach. It was like he was running out of air to breathe.

Samael noticed the Arconan fall behind and turned around, “Come on, the team is just up ahead in this chamber.”

Turel refocused and motioned for the Umbaran to lead on. The pair came to a large antechamber with lighting fixtures evenly spaced along the walls. Most of them were off. There was a single fixture lighting the back side of what appeared to be an altar on the far side of the chamber. Samael stopped at the chamber’s entrance and pointed to the altar. “The team is around here, somewhere.” Turel glared at the Sith for a moment, confused. “I don’t see anyone.”

“This is the last place I saw them.” The Umbaran stated in a nonchalant tone with unblinking eyes.

The Obelisk moved toward the single working light fixture, searching for the control panel as he went. As he drew closer to the altar he saw a pair of boots sticking out from behind the edifice. “Hello?” He pulled out his lightsaber to illuminate the altar. Samael slowly moved from the chamber entrance to a shadowy corner, taking advantage of Turel’s diverted attention. Turel peered around the corner of the altar to find a gruesome tableau of what appeared to be three male members of the team.

The team members corpses were sat up against the back side of the altar with their shirts and coats removed. The bodies had their throats slit, small gems shoved into their empty eye sockets and what appeared to be runed carved into their bare chests. A pool of fresh blood had gathered at the feet of the bodies. Blood dripped from their eye sockets in crimson tears. The single light fixture had been aimed at the bodies like it was some kind of perverse art display.

The horror in front of him and the overwhelming power of the Dark Side in the chamber almost made Turel rect up his lunch. The shock of it all temporarily lifted the fog over his mind. A grim understanding came to the fore of his mind. He had allowed a predator to lead him into a lair. The Obelisk was no stranger to death but this was perverse, it was simply wrong. These people weren’t simply killed, they had been violated.

A righteous fury rose up within him. He spun around and pointed his azure saber at the entrance where Samael had been. The Umbaran was still in the room, he could feel the chill of the Sith’s gaze upon him. “COME OUT!”

He heard a haunting voice in his mind, “You don’t like my work?”

Turel called upon the Force and rushed to the single entrance of the room in a blur of motion. He turned the face the chamber with his saber at the ready. “You aren’t leaving this chamber alive you sick bastard!” The murderous intent was crystal clear in the tone of his voice. This wasn’t a mere threat, this was promise.

“We shall see.”

Samael giggled in the darkness as he watched the Obelisk scan the room to find him. He relished the sensation Turel’s discovery of his work gave him, basking in the glory of acknowledgement. He stared at the azure lightsaber with fascination, wondering how much blood it would take to change its crystals color. That saber which had seen so much combat, wielded by a man who had bathed in the splendor of death more than once. Wielded by a man who denied what he was. Samael may have been sick, but at least he was comfortable with what he was. He didn’t cling to memories of what once was, he didn’t hold on to ideals of a forgotten era. He knew he was a monster, and he wanted the rest of the galaxy to know that as well.

“If you kill me, you’ll never find the leader.” said Samael mockingly.

It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. It crawled from within the Obelisk’s mind and slithered out of his own mouth. The Former Jedi felt unclean, knowing that the twisted sadist was inside his mind. Turel took out his pistol and began firing into the darkness, hoping to hit what he couldn’t see. Violent laughter shook within Turel as Samael twisted and rooted himself deeper into the Human’s mind, forcing the Fallen Guardian to holster his slug thrower.

The scampering of feet echoed behind the Obelisk, who twisted to see if he could locate his enemy. His eyes weren’t fast enough, however, and the Dark Temple was all that embraced his view. The Umbaran focused harder from the shadows, tendrils of energy and tentacles of power arcing towards his enemy and ripping his psyche to shreds. The Obelisk gripped his head with his free hand, feeling the Sith move inside him like a worm in an apple. That was only the beginning, sadly.

Samael revealed himself, stepping from the shadows with his arms vacant of anything. If the Former Jedi didn’t know any better, he’d say his enemy was surrendering. But the pit in his stomach, and the taint of darkness that infected him, told him to be more wary. By the time the Sith had gotten two feet in front of Turel, another had popped out of the shadows. Arms outward, vacant of any weapon. Again, and again, the Obelisk saw them stand before him, and he knew it was a trick. Annoyance of being toyed with for so long got the better of him, and he thrust his blade as fast as he could into the first Sith he saw.

“And a thrust!” cooed one of the images of Samael.

“What a rush!” sang another, falling into a combat ready stance.

“What a bust!” belted out a third, who charged towards Turel and met his end by the tip of the Obelisk’s saber. Instantly, the phantom faded away from view.

“No burning smell,” yelled a fourth, pointing his finger at his enemy.

“Is there to tell,” said another deadpan, his face absent of all emotion.

“You what you did,” they all sang.

“So instead,” they chanted.

“I’ll play with your head” they shouted as they all swarmed the Obelisk, hands groping his nose and ears and tugging and ripping at them.

“Until you beg to be,” whispered one of them before he stuck his tongue in Turel’s ear.

“Dead!” they all said as they grabbed hold and began to tear, the sensation of being ripped apart infesting every inch of the Former Guardian. His eyes widened as he felt the pain and terrible sensation of skin and tissue being ripped from his body.

Fear puked from inside the Arconan, wretching all over his insides and covering any other thought with a layer of doubt and terror. He heard more footsteps and, instead of being met with the usual attitude and steadfastness, seemed to almost dread what made them. The illusion of fear was banished when the white hot pain of a lightsaber seared through his armor and flesh of his leg.

The Boogeyman of Taras sneered as he delivered a strike to Turel’s jaw, causing his knee to buckle, the hamstring severed by the saber and forcing him to the ground, his slugthrower jostling in its holster slightly and the grip of his saber breaking from the pain. The Sith’s usual smile returned as he saw the pistol, giving Turel a knowing wink as he placed the saber to his throat. The fog seemed to lift almost completely from the Obelisk, which only made the pain worse.

“Touch the gun, and I’ll make it so you can never play with your rifle again.” said Samael, indicating a sawing motion near his genitals.

“You really are a sick bastard, you know that?” said Turel, the pain in his leg causing beads of sweat to form on his brow.

The more he moved, the more it hurt, but not moving surely meant death. Survival was taking over, and instincts told the Obelisk he did not want to be near the Sith. The Sith saw his prey backing up a little more, flicking the saber into the flesh of his neck gently. The skin and meat sizzled as the plasma entered it, cauterizing it instantly and giving off a wisp of smoke. Samael breathed in deeply, savoring every second of his misery.

“Where you going?” asked Samael, placing a few fingers in the open wound and using it to drag Turel back a little, “You haven’t found the leader yet. Can’t leave without that.”

Turel roared in pain as he was dragged closer and closer to the altar, his roars met with childlike laughter coming from the Sith. The Obelisk quickly grabbed his slugthrower and took aim, firing a slug into Samael’s direction. His aim was thrown off, however, by a quick jerk of Samael at the opportune time, the slug whizzing by and hitting the Umbaran in the ear. Blood burped out of the wound, and the Boogeyman tasted it with a dab of his finger.

“Looks like your rifle is mine.” said Samael as he drove his lightsaber into the Obelisk’s other leg, another roar of pain spewing from the Arconan. “We could have been great friends. Friends forever, but you just had to ruin it.”

He placed his hands in both wounds and tugged on them in different directions. Turel gritted his teeth and did his best not to yell, but Samael only seemed to enjoy that more. He went over to the Guardian, whose finger was still wrapped around the trigger of his slugthrower, and stepped on his hand. A crunch of bone breaking belched into the air, and the Sith couldn’t help but chuckle at it. He twisted his foot left and right, and finally kicked the gun away. Turel, defeated, lightly smacked his head against the floor.

“Before we get down to brass tacks, I’ll show you where the leader is!” said Samael with glee.

He sprinted towards the altar and jumped up onto it, reaching up and pulling on what appeared to be an old rope that nearly blended in with the roof. He tugged on it, and out popped the cadaver of the team leader that had tried to locate an artifact. Her shirt was torn, and blood soaked what was left of it. Her stomach and chest cavity had been carved away, lungs hanging loosely while the rest of the organs had been wrapped around her waist. Intricate patterns of unknown symbols had been scrawled all over her flesh, and the word “Hello” was carved into her forehead. Samael grabbed her boot and spun her wistfully, singing a child’s song as she spun. He returned to Turel, who wore a mask of hatred and spite, and motioned towards the body proudly.

“Pretty neat, huh?” he said as he withdrew a knife from its sheath.

Turel’s eyes grew wide as he saw it, recognizing the bone blade and leatherwork of the handle. One of his master’s knives, carried with him at all times. Samael saw the reaction and couldn’t help but resist. The memory of Kah Manet swam in Turel’s mind, and the Umbaran drank it in.

“Like it? Little parting gift from one of my victims. Got away, but he’ll remember me. Just like you.”

Turel threw a punch at the Sith, which landed square on the jaw. The Umbaran giggled as he swished his tongue around and tasted his own blood. The Boogeyman took his knife, which had grown dull from misuse and improper maintenance, and traced a line down Turel’s face. Scars and ruined tissue made the Umbaran coo as the blade danced over them, applying pressure until he drew fresh blood. The Obelisk clenched his jaw, trying to fight off his attacker as best he could. He wouldn’t go down without a fight, which was something Samael both loved and hated about him.

The Sith took his finger and dabbed it in his prey’s blood, running it across his tongue and savoring the taste. He could begin the real fun, now that the battle was over. He examined what his opponent was wearing, a shell of armor like a crustacean. Making a disappointed face, Samael began to run his hands all over the armor, finding any seams or easy spots to penetrate. After a moment or two of searching, finding numerous on the body, Samael took his knife and quickly thought about what it was he could do.

Death was an option. He could easily carve his enemy out of his armor and enjoy dancing around with his entrails in hand. He could tear out his stomach and feed it to the Obelisk, or he could make a necklace out of his rib cage. The possibilities were endless and of such euphoric possibilities the Umbaran didn’t know which to do. But then he came up with an idea. The Umbaran stared at his prey, his scarred face and cybernetic arm. He remembered Viera Nost, and the scars it left on his new found friend. He could only think of one thing to do, and that was help Turel never forget him.

Without wasting another moment, the Umbaran set off to work. He dug the tip of the bone dagger into the flesh of his opponent, cutting enough to reach a fingertip in and tug upward. A large hunk of flesh tore and Turel roared with anger. Samael apologized but continued. Again and again, he did this. Creating large wounds from poking his fingers in fresh incisions, until finally there wasn’t much space that wasn’t wounded on the unscarred side of his face. The Sith then jerked his enemy’s head to the side, revealing scarred tissue and a less than pretty face.

With a swift and powerful tug, the Umbaran laughed as he removed the Obelisks ear. He kissed it with enthusiasm and placed it in his pocket.

“Jus-” was all Turel could say before Samael placed his hand over the Former Jedi’s mouth.

The Sith pressed down hard, enough that he could almost feel the teeth of the Obelisk shift in their place. He moved Turel’s head and steadied it, carving the word “Loser” into the Human’s forehead. Samael got up and began to admire his work, pointing at certain parts and congratulating his professionalism. He began to leave the room, but stopped and smacked his forehead as though he were a dunce.

“How rude of me!” he said as he scampered back over.

He placed the knife underneath his own ear and began to cut away the fleshy skin and cartilage that made up his ear. He laughed as the pain rippled across his body, and tenderly tossed the ear over to Turel.

“Best friends forever!” he said as he departed the room and made his way to his next victim.

Turel began to feel warm, the deep chill he felt before replaced by a fire in his bones. Fear had been supplanted by a seething anger, a deepening hatred and a need to remove this foul creature from the galaxy. The flames of his rage gave him a fresh focus, scorching the mental fog that had hampered him. In a far corner of his mind part of him was screaming a warning, imploring him not to give in. He knew it was the Dark Side of the Force which had brought the change, but instead of fighting it or cautiously touching it, he embraced it fully. Now the temple gave him strength instead of holding him down.

Samael must have felt the shift or seen the determination on the Templar's face and found it amusing. "Aww, is the self-righteous Jedi apostate angry? Good. The angry ones are the most fun to play with." The condescending tone of the Sith's declaration threw more fuel on Turel's inner fire.

The Obelisk stood firm at the chamber entrance, blocking the only exit. "Keep talking, freak. You won't think this is a game when I find you and remove your foul head from your body."

"That's not a very Jedi thing to say." The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

Turel detected movement in one of the shadowy corners. Got ya! His mouth curved into a scheming grin. "No, no it wasn't a very Jedi thing to say." He shifted in place, tensing his muscles for another sprint. The Umbaran had a point though. That hadn't been very Jedi-like. Buthis wasn't the time for the tempered justice of a Jedi. This monster would feel the wrath of an Obelisk warrior.

The Templar took off again with near superhuman speed. The flow of time seemed to slow for him as the raging inferno inside him was converted to physical motion. As he drew closer to his destination, the glow of his azure lightsaber illuminated a figure in the shadows. The figure made no effort to dodge or parry the incoming blow. Turel brought the saber to the figure's neck for a decapitating strike but then froze in place. The light of his saber revealed the figure to be a mirror image of himself.

"What's the matter? Not so easy to turn that righteous fury on yourself is it?" The voice was very close.

The Templar remained frozen, poised to murder his doppelganger. "I'm not a monster."

"Young Vera Nost disagrees, along with the countless others you've hurt. Oh I know you, Turel Sorenn, and we are the same. You just don't know it yet. You try to hide it, try to smother it with guilt, but deep down you liked inflicting pain on others. The rush of it, the feeling of power, and the hunger for more," the voice paused with a slight chuckle. "To hate me is to hate yourself."

Turel completed the saber blow, dissipating the illusion. The Umbaran was right, about all of it. The worst part of all his past sins wasn't the acts themselves, it was the fact that on some level, he had loved it. The power to instill fear or inflict pain was intoxicating. He loved it and he hated himself for it.

But in this moment, all of Turel's inner conflict was forgotten. All his inhibitions swept aside. The Krayt dragon he kept chained up inside his heart of hearts was unleashed. "The only hunger I feel right now is a hunger for your blood!" He spun around just in time to catch Samael poised to plunge a knife between his shoulder blades.

The Sith jumped back, narrowly dodging a stroke from Turel's saber that would have cleaved him in two, casting the knife aside in the process. He continued to fall back and got his own saber out to defend himself. The Templar had taken him by surprise, and now he was fighting for his life. He began to feel fear. The predator had become the prey. Samael had run out of tricks.

The Umbaran was no match for the Human in the art of the blade. Even though Turel had focused on more defensive saber techniques, he was still practiced enough that the blade was a seamless extension of his will. It was all Samael could do to hold the angry Obelisk at bay. He reached into Turel’s mind and felt only rage focused on him. The Sith needed every ounce of focus he could muster to parry the incoming barrage of saber blows.

Samael felt a fear he hadn’t known in a long time. He tried to move toward the exit but Turel was too fast, and maneuvered to block his path. “Oh no you don’t. I already told you, you aren’t leaving this chamber alive!”

Turel could feel his opponent on the ropes and it thrilled him. The Dark Side was flowing through him like a rushing river. He waited for Samael to take a vertical strike at him then side-stepped the blow. As Samael’s own aqua saber came down where the Obelisk’s had been, his opponent’s saber came down on the Sith’s outstretched arms from his right flank.

Samael’s right and left hands, cleanly cut at the forearm, fell to the stone floor of the chamber with a soft thud. The Umbaran’s lightsaber deactivated and rolled on the stones. The Sith fell to his knees in shock. Turel lowered his still blazing saber to his side, savoring the moment. “How does it feel? How does it feel to be afraid, to be the victim?”

After a few tense moments the Umbaran looked up at his opponent, grinned, and whimpered, “How does it feel to be a monster like me?”

Turel deactivated and holstered his saber. Samael’s grin grew wider, confident that the Obelisk’s sense of moral superiority had returned and that he would leave the chamber after all, albeit in custody. Turel had no such intentions. “I am a monster, but only when I have to be.” He pulled his slugthrower out of his holster. “You don’t deserve the honor of dying by the sword, you piece of filth.” He shoved the barrel of the slugthrower right between Samael’s eyes. “You die right here, right now, like the sick animal you are, forever to be tormented by the spirits of your victims.”

Turel pulled the trigger. The roar of the high caliber slug thrower was almost deafening in the chamber. The Obelisk’s face was covered in droplets of hot, red blood. Samael’s lifeless body slumped over to the floor with nearly half his head missing. Turel wiped the blood off his face with his sleeve and holstered his pistol. He turned to the altar where the victims lay. “Be at peace. Your blood is avenged.”

The apostate Jedi left the chamber of horrors to search for the missing team leader. He held little hope of finding her alive, but took some solace in the fact she had been avenged.

“There is no death, there is only the Force.”