A gambler’s den of the Vertical City’s greatest bettors, Club Vertica is a casino reserved for the wealthiest of Nar Shaddaa. Cardshark droids are used exclusively to deal hands to those willing to risk their credits at the sabacc tables. Cheating is rendered near impossible under the surveillance of the droid's six photoreceptors. That, of course, does not stop the downtrodden from accusing others of being a fraud, which can often happen before someone receives a blaster bolt between the eyes. The few that have been able to use skiffers undetected are counted as some of the best swindlers in the Galaxy.

Cerulean lights illuminate the tables, making concealment during a game difficult. Seated around most of the oval tables are a mix of gamblers from different species, succumbing to their addiction for the ultimate prize—the sabacc pot. Credits are tossed onto the tables forming mountains that draw in fierce competitors with deeper pockets and faster wit than the usual patrons.

Behind the games of sabacc, drinks are being served from the alcove of a small bar. Most of these are a shade of blue in color, expertly mixed to dull the senses of all but the hardiest individuals. Onstage, a local band sets the mood of the venue with an upbeat number that deafens out most conversations. The stakes are always high at Club Vertica.

If you wanted to find Turel Sorenn, all you had to do was search in the grimmest, sleaziest, most Force forsaken hell hole in the galaxy, and you'd find him there with a smirk on his face and a pack of cards in his hands.

It was ironic then, that such a line of thinking brought Appius to Club Vertica. He was here under a simple premise, capture a high-ranking member of another clan and have them brought back to the Caelus System for interrogation. All this was for the sake of information that may or may not save millions depending on what was found. The Brotherhood's newest enemy had left the most powerful members of every Clan and the Dark Council running around in circles with their heads between their legs. Every one of the seven Clans had one crystal from Dandoran, just one, and were tasked with researching, investigating, and discovering any bit of information they could. The Children of Mortis were an enigma that needed to be cracked, and to do so, they needed to be prepared. Taldryan needed to be prepared. Appius was determined to ensure that the Clan would not fall during his tenure as Consul. Come hell or high waters, Taldryan would survive one way or another. The OSI had done well tracking down an Elder Oddanite who would likely have such information to help make it happen.

Cerulean lights were first to assault Appius' retinas, even through his T-shaped visor, followed by the melodic sounds of the onstage band playing a pleasant tune that wouldno doubt get stuck in the Mandalorian's head. Nar Shaddaa's richest, wealthiest, and luckiest gathered around various tables trying their hand at making themselves even more bloated with credits. Women of various races tended to the tables, wearing the skimpiest attire they could get away with all for the sake of getting a tip. All that was missing was the declaration of love and some of the more weaker willed patrons would be putty in their hands.

"Oh, you are soooo good at pazaak! I love you so much!"

'Never mind…' Appius rolled his eyes behind his visor, though his senses drove him forward to one particular table.

Two individuals were sitting at the oval piece of furniture, though one, a Kiffar, was sweating profusely whilst the other held his nerve, with the slightest smile present on his face. They both placed down their sabacc cards, and whilst the Taldryan couldn't make out the finer details of what was in their hands, the Kiffar's face told the whole story by how pale he went.

"Looks like I win again!" a Human, middle-aged from what Appius could tell, declared as he pulled the pile of credits closer to him. Upon closer inspection, the Mandalorian could see the ponytail that extended down the Human's back. He bore bright, green eyes that shone in the bar lights, and his greying hair spoke of his age and experience.

"Impossible! He must have cheated!" the Kiffar suddenly claimed in anger.

"No, I did not, and you know it is the truth," the Human spoke with a soft, calming voice. It was like silk in sound form, and miraculously, the Kiffar loosened, as the tension and rage he felt moments prior just dissipated into nothing.

"You're right. I'm sorry," the Kiffar stated in a monotone inflection before leaving the Human to his winnings. The small crowd that gathered around the table began to disperse now that the immediate drama was over. Appius took the opportunity to approach his target whilst he could.

"Turel Sorenn?" the Taldryanite inquired.

Suddenly, Turel froze. From what Appius' intel had gathered, Turel was a bit of a spymaster for Odan-Urr. No one likely knew his real name, or was supposed to. The Jedi slowly craned his head towards the Mandalorian and looked the tall man up and down.

"Can I help you?" the Jedi asked.

"Yes, you can. You are coming back with me to the Caelus System for Interrogation," the Mandalorian answered.

"Oh?" Turel responded with evident intrigue written over his face. "And may I ask what this is about?"

"Private Brotherhood matters."

Appius' answer caused the Jedi to raise a brow at him, but he nonetheless turned back towards the table as new challengers approached to try and end Turel's winning streak.

"Sorry. I'm not interested," the Oddanite stated dryly as he turned his attention back to his fellow sabacc players.

Appius couldn't believe this guy! Did he not see him as a threat? Did he think he wanted to bring him back to the Caelus System just for a casual chat? The Taldryan Consul was, understandably, irritated by the Adept just brushing him off like that.

"Listen!" Appius exclaimed as he placed one gloved hand on Turel's shoulder. "You seem to be misunderstanding me. I'm not giving you a choice here! You are coming with me and…"

The Taldryan Consul had no idea what happened next. One second he was lambasting the Jedi Adept, then the next he was flat down on his back, staring up at the ceiling lime he was a stargazer. In one swift motion, Turel had flipped Appius over his shoulder and slammed his through the table that he was sitting at, using the weight of the Mandalorian's armor against him on his descent.

"As I was saying, I have no interest in going with you. Find someone else to harass and threaten, Mandalorian. It won't work on me."

With that, Turel gathered as many credits as he could that were scattered across the floor and proceeded casually towards the exit.

Appius pulled himself free from the pile of wood and debris he'd been buried in and quickly rose to his feet.

"Ok, Turel. If that's how you want to play it, then fine!" Appius said as he raised both hands towards the Jedi. Turel was immediately frozen in place, unable to move as the Taldryanite slowly advanced towards him.

Unfortunately for Appius, Turel himself was familiar with this particular application of the Force. Instead of panicking, the Jedi held his nerve and awaited for the Taldryan Consul to approach. Then, when the Mandalorian was in earshot, the Oddanite smirked.

"You do not wish to fight me. You know this is not the way," Turel said. The Jedi's words were as smooth as a waterfall of honey as they entered Appius' ears. It had the desired effect as the Taldryanite seemed to relax his body.

"I…" Appius said. Perhaps Turel was right. Maybe this didn't need to escalate to violence?

Just as quickly as the planted thought entered his mind, Appius shook it away. The suggestion had, however, wormed its way into his mind and made him lose concentration just enough for Turel to break free. The Jedi then immediately used the Force to leave a projection of himself as he blended into the crowd and escape from Appius' sight.

"Got you!" Appius went to grab Turel, but upon closer inspection, his hand faded through the illusion. "Frakk! Ok, Turel… where are you?"

The Taldryanite closed his eyes, looking to feel Turel's presence amongst the crowd of patrons that gave him a wide berth. Appius had his answer when he felt the Force ring in his subconscious, warning him of the danger he was in.

"There you are!" Appius shouted as he turned to face his target.

“Hello there,” Turel retorted with a grin as he aimed a blaster pistol straight at the Mandalorian’s visor.

Appius barely had time to raise his arms in a reflexive protective position before Turel pulled the trigger. The Consul soon found himself bombarded by cerulean rings of stun bolts as he stumbled backward trying to protect his head with his forearms. The beskar in the armor would have deflected a normal blaster bolt but instead merely disrupted the blue rings. Surprisingly for the Mandalorian, it still hurt somewhat and he could feel his arms start to grow numb from the dispersed energy seeping into the unprotected parts of his suit.

The crowd began to panic and scramble for the exits as the fistfight seemingly turned into a gunfight. “He has a blaster! Someone get security!” a frightened serving droid exclaimed.

Taking a split second to scan the room, Appius located a rectangular card table that would make some excellent cover. He dove behind the table and kicked it over with a Force-enhanced continuous motion noticeably faster than a normal sentient could. The Odanite stopped firing and Appius took the brief respite to formulate his next move.

“Sprung the creds for the beskar I see,” Turel noted with a sarcastic tone. “Couldn’t tell under that abomination of a paint job.”

Keep talking wiseguy, Appius thought as he considered pulling out his lightsaber. No, things haven’t gotten to that point yet. His goal was to capture the Jedi, not maim him.

“Seriously though, what’s with the lightning bolt? Are you a holonet streamer? Let me guess, your screen name is sparky boy the deathwatcher or something right?”

As a practitioner of Dun Moch, Appius knew exactly what Turel was doing. It was a game he was very good at. Provoke your opponent to keep them off balance. Still, it was hard not to get angry at the jabs toward his heritage as a Mandalorian. As the Consul prepared to pop up from cover, he mentally anticipated that his eyes would be lying to him. The Jedi had already demonstrated a penchant for weaving illusions. He took a deep breath and expanded his consciousness outward into the ebbs and flows of the Force in the room. Appius focused on where the light side flows seemed to converge.

The Mandalorian popped up from behind the table and without thinking threw a translucent wave of telekinetic energy at where the light side seemed to focus. Bingo! Turel was knocked off his feet by the blow and sent flying backward into a nearby bar counter knocking bottles and martini glasses over with a loud crash. An illusory double of the Jedi a few meters to the right faded with its creator’s break in concentration.

“Ow,” Turel groaned after rolling off the counter and behind the bar.

Appius began confidently striding across the room, ignoring the terrified looks of the remaining patrons. “You’re coming with me, Jedi. We can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way.” He scanned both ends of the bar and the door leading into the kitchen to watch for Turel to try to escape. “No more tricks.”

The Sentinel gave a knowing chuckle followed by a labored cough, “Now that’s just wishful thinking on your part.”

Appius called upon the dark side and channeled his frustration and anger at the situation into his hands. Lavender tendrils of pure Force energy began to crackle across the Consul’s gauntlets.

“The hard way it is.”

The tendrils spread down the Mandalorian's gauntlets to his fingertips. Streaks of lightning erupted from them like a violent thunderstorm intending to strike Turel down where he stood. The Jedi acted on instinct and ducked under the attack, letting the electricity soar above his head and into the neon lighting behind the bar.

The lights erupted into a cacophony of hisses that flickered on and off. Sparks burst from the inner tubes and covered the wooden bar, setting it ablaze as embers gradually grew into a large fire. Smoke began to gradually fill the club as patrons scrambled for whatever exit they could find. Not even the guards and droids stuck around as the fire alarms blared repeatedly in the surrounding area.

Turel leapt from the burning bar, and Appius saw the opportunity to attack again. The second stream of lightning would have met its mark, if only the Oddanite hadn't turned over one of the many tables and hid behind it, using it as a shield. The electricity scorched the surface of the fine quilt covering the oval piece of furniture, but otherwise left it unscathed.

"Come on, Turel! I thought you were going to make this harder for me!" Appius bellowed over the sounds of the alarm.

"No thanks, I'm spoken for, and you are not my type!" Turel retorted back, causing Appius to go red in the face.

"NOT LIKE THAT YOU… OH, FRAKK THIS!" Appius roared and, using the Force, launched the table Turel was hiding behind over to the other side of the club.

As soon as the table was out of sight and out of mind, the Jedi Master aspirant ran towards Appius with newfound gusto. The Mandalorian acted on instinct and launched a fast, forward jab towards Turel's nose. The Taldryan Consul was elated for all of half a second as his fist seemingly made contact with flesh, but then faded through the Jedi like he was made of thin air.

"Kriff! Not again!" the Consul exclaimed. The Force alerted him of the immediate threat behind him, and he spun to face the Adept only for the Turel's open palm to connect with the side of Appius' helmet. The Mandalorian staggered back, whilst Turel advanced towards him. The Taldryanite regained his footing and, now convinced this was the real Turel, swung a wild fist at the Jedi.

What Appius failed to realise is that was what Turel was waiting for to happen. Before the attack could make contact, the Oddanite slapped it away from him and steered it off course. Then, the Jedi spun and dug his weight into Appius' hip, causing the Taldryanite to stumble and lose balance as he collided with one of the few metal support poles the club had, and conveniently used for its dancers.

Appius turned, ready for another round, but when he did. Turel had, for some reason, thrown a fistful of credits at his feet. It took the Mandalorian a moment to register why Turel had done that, but when he did, his blood boiled.

Turel was just standing there with a confident smirk plastered on his face, though the heat rising in the club was starting to make both men sweat. Frakk it all to hell! Appius hated that look on Turel's smug face, and wanted to do anything to take that smirk, and shove it down the Jedi Master aspirants throat!

'Wait… that's it!' A spark of an idea entered Appius' mind. Just in time too, as the alarms that blared across the club ceased working.

"You know, if you spent less time making crude jokes, maybe you'd be a Jedi Master by now. Then again, you aren't the type of person they would want reaching that rank, are you Turel?"

The Jedi's smirk disappeared instantly.

"I know everything I need to know about you. Your former crimes as a gangster. Yes! You have a pretty credit attached to you that would make any other Jedi weep with shame and pity. Is that the kind of person Clan Odan-Urr would recognise as a Master? Think about what that would say to the rest of the galaxy."

Of course, Appius was speaking utter kark. Dun Moch was incredibly useful for throwing an opponent off their game. This particular series of words hit home with Turel as a flash of anger showed itself on his face. Yet, as soon as it appeared, it was gone again.

"It would say…" Turel started as he found the words he was looking for, his resolve holding him firmly in place against the Mandalorian's taunts. "It would say that Odan-Urr understands that life isn't perfect. It says Odan-Urr understands that people can do wrong, but they learn from those mistakes and better themselves as people. It says that anyone, even a low-life such as me can…"

Unfortunately for Turel, Appius didn't care much for his monologue. The Mandalorian seized his opportunity and launched himself at the light-sider. Flames roared out of the thrusters of the Taldryan Consul's jetpack as Appius used the added propulsion to slam his shoulder into Turel's abdomen. Both men soared across the club, and through the flames that lit the club in a deathly orange hue.

Both men rolled to a stop across the floor. Appius was the first to return to his feet with Turel not far behind him, and immediately the Taldryan Consul unleashed a barrage of punches at the Oddanite that Turel was forced to deflect. Again, and again, and again Appius aimed for Turel's vital areas. Throat, solar plexus, and yes, the groin, hoping something would slip through. Luckily for the Jedi, he remained calm, almost like he was at peace with the situation as he reflexively defended against each of the Mandalorian's attempts to cause him harm. However, Turel was struggling to form any kind of counter-attack. It was apparent the two fighters were equally skilled in hand-to-hand combat, but Appius was the one who held the speed advantage. It was only slight, but it was enough to give the Jedi some trouble.

There was also one other glaring problem for both men. Fighting inside Club Vertica was like fighting inside a volcano on Mustafar. The heat from the raging inferno was becoming unbearable, both men were sweating profusely and the air became thicker thanks to the building smoke.

Turel and Appius battled inside the burning ring of fire, though a stiff, aggressive kick to the Jedi's abdomen knocked him off-balance. Appius' hand then grazed the lightsaber hilt at his hip.

"I didn't want to do this, but I don't think I have much of a choice! You brought this on yourself, Turel! I'll try not to maim you, but I make no promises!" the Mandalorian grabbed the Darksaber-inspired weapon at his hilt and activated the weapon. An emerald blade ruptured out of the hilt as Appius lunged towards his target, intending to slice through the Jedi's arm. Turel, however, raised that same arm towards the lightsaber as if he intended to catch it. The attack seemingly bounced off an invisible wall, which gave the Odan-Urr member time to retrieve his lightsaber.

An unstable purple blade crashed into green in the follow-up strike as Turel kept his weapon close to his body to repel any attacks that Appius threw his way. It didn't take long for the Mandalorian to figure out that the Jedi was, of course, a practitioner of Soresu. Each strike the Taldryanite made, no matter their intention, was reflected, parried, redirected, and reflexive countered by Turel's minimalistic movements. Appius had to admire it. Soresu was near-impenetrable by masters who dedicated themselves to their craft. It was near-perfect for nearly any situation thanks to the emphasis on conservation and tight bladework.

However, it had some huge problems, the very problems Appius intended to exploit to the fullest. The Mandalorian started weaving in and out, aiming in one direction before switching to another. Appius feigned attacks only to redirect them to another location. A strike to the arm became a casual flick of the wrist to Turel's thigh. A lunge to the wrist became an attempt at stabbing the Jedi in the gut. Appius made himself as sketchy as possible so the Elder couldn't predict his attack patterns, and truth be told, it was working.

"Something wrong, Turel? If this is the best a Jedi Master can get me, I'm seriously disappointed!" Appius continued to mock.

Turel was finding it harder and harder to defend himself. Masters of Soresu supposedly could defend themselves from anything, but a master of Soresu, Turel was not.

Things came ahead when the Mandalorian sliced at Turel's chest. The older Human managed to parry the attack as it swooshed past him, but wasn't prepared for what happened next. Appius reached out with his spare hand as what felt like a blast of energy punched the Jedi in his jaw. The Mandalorian Sorcerer followed up with a telekinetic blast that sent Turel soaring over the flames that surrounded them and to relative safety at the other side of the club.

Unfortunately for Appius, he couldn't follow up on his momentum. He dropped to one knee and began panting, gasping for breath. It was unbearably hot, especially in his armor which trapped the heat inside it like an oven. Pain seared his lungs from a combination of ash and smoke. There was a ringing in the Consul's ears that made him dizzy and nauseous. The Mandalorian staggered back to his feet, exhaustion setting in as he surveyed the chaos he'd created. His body felt numb as his vision began to blur.

Appius had pushed himself too far, and now he was paying the price for it with his life.

However, before the Mandalorian could pass out, he felt himself being yanked through the flames like he was attached to a landspeeder. Appius rolled to a stop in front of Turel, who wasted no time in hoisting Appius up on one arm.

"Kriff, not only does it look bad, it's heavy too!" the Jedi commented.

"What… are you doing?" Appius managed to say.

"Saving your life. What does it look like?" Turel retorted.

Flames blocked the main entrance to the club. Thankfully, the back door was still open and unblocked. The Oddanite hobbled over with Appius' arm over his shoulder and then shoved the Mandalorian through the exit and into the back alleys of Nar Shaddaa. Turel dragged the Taldryan Consul around a series of twists and turns until he found an isolated spot away from the carnage they'd left behind. The Jedi placed Appius against the wall and slowly lowered him down so he could sit and rest. Throughout all of this, the Mandalorian had one burning question in his mind.

"Why?" Appius managed to ask. Turel was hardly in much better condition than he was. His clothing was tattered and covered in ash and soot, which extended to his face and hair.

"Because I want to be better. I want to be an example to follow, even to you. Yes, you attacked me, and yes, all that sithspit happened, but if I can be better, then so can you. I hope you take this as an example, Mandalorian. I've made mistakes in my past, as you seem to clearly know, but we all have the choice to be better, take this as your opportunity to learn and do so."

Appius did not respond to Turel's words, nor did he call after the Jedi when Turel turned to leave. All the Taldryan Consul did was sit against the walls and contemplate the meaning behind Turel's words.

Could he be better? Did he want to be better? Only time would tell.

Turel’s mind raced as he huddled beneath the bar. He could make a run, or more accurately crawl, for the kitchen while staying behind cover or pop out and re-engage the fast-approaching Mandalorian. He didn’t get time to fully weigh his options before he heard Appius decide to go with the hard way, whatever that meant. A chill shot up the Jedi’s spine as the dark side of the Force surged in the room like a tide. Bolts of Force energy danced across the top of the bar and into the bottles of alcohol like an army of tiny purple fingers reaching for a drink.

“Oh, frak!” Turel ducked down and covered his head as broken glass and expensive booze rained down on him. His mind briefly pondered the question of what kind of maniac would destroy perfectly good alcohol.

“Last chance Jedi,” Appius demanded in a deadly serious tone.

Crawling was now well and truly out of the question with so much broken glass on the sticky floor. The smell of the liquor brought a sudden and horrifying realization to the fore. Alcohol is flammable. Turel did not want to be cooked alive if Appius ignited the liters of booze on the counter and floor with another lightning blast. Taking advantage of the momentary pause given by his opponent’s ultimatum, Turel rose into a crouch position while making sure to keep his head behind cover. He called upon the Force to augment his leg muscles and prepared to dive for the kitchen door.

“Time’s up!”

The Force rang with a warning at the edge of Turel’s consciousness and he leapt forward with all the power he could muster. He hadn’t moved that fast in years. He rose above the bar counter just in time to see Appius unleashing another volley of sparking Force energy and dove for the door. The sentinel crashed into the kitchen with a sloppy roll just as the bar counter ignited with a whoosh. Soft orange light flickered under the door after it swung closed behind Turel.

The Jedi noticed the four stoves in the room, still burning with food that a pair of multi-armed cooking droids were preparing. Apparently they didn’t get the memo that a mandalorian psychopath was tearing up the place.

“More flammable stuff, great going Turel,” the Jedi chastised himself. Before he could react the bar door flew off its hinges with a wave of telekinetic energy behind it. That was as good a cue as any to exit. The Sentinel got up and scurried toward the storage area in the back of the kitchen, assuming it led to some kind of exit.

Turel could barely get behind a prep station when Appius strode into the now open doorway with the unmistakable sound of heavy boots crunching broken glass. The Jedi reached across the currents of the Force to touch his pursuer’s mind.

Why are you hunting me?

Appius tilted his head in confusion at hearing a voice in his mind.

We do not have to fight. We can talk.

Turel sensed the typical confusion he encountered when sending a telepathic message to a person for the first time but he also sensed the Consul’s frustration and fear.

What are you afraid of? Tell me. I can help you.

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” Appius shouted before regaining a relative sense of composure. “You can help me by coming quietly.”

“Yeah, not happening.”

Turel withdrew his consciousness from the mandalorian and reached out to the two cooking droids filling their circuit pathways with temporary life from the Force. Responding to the Jedi’s command, the droids pulled out their carving knives and began to approach Appius. The Consul raised his hands and both droids rose off the ground as if being picked up by invisible Wookies. He threw his hands apart with a swift gesture and the droids slammed into walls on opposite sides of the room with a great deal of momentum.

By this point Turel was standing out of cover, no weapons drawn with an almost unnerving calm across his face. He had made his choice, he would stand his ground here. Anger flowed through Appius who by this point was more than done with the slippery Jedi evading him. He raised his hands once again to unleash a wave of lightning, his frustration made manifest, directly at the Sentinel.

Turel brought his own hands up as if he were catching a ball and the lavender tendrils of Force energy seemed to collide with an invisible wall. The lightning seemed drawn and focused at the Jedi’s hands. A smirk flashed across his face. Appius barely had time to stop his own attack before Turel pushed his own hands forward. The focused Force energy now flew back at the Mandalorian who caught it square in the chest. His own Force lightning danced across his beskar armor as he fell back onto the floor.

Appius gritted through the pain as the energy dispersed from his body. He soon recognized the feeling of the Force itself holding his limbs in stasis. Turel seemed to labor with his full concentration to hold the Consul in place but managed to still speak.

“If you need something from me all you had to do was ask. I can sense your fear and it clearly isn’t directed at me.”

Appius didn’t see a way out of the current predicament. The Jedi’s words carried an undeniable logic to them.

“Alright, we can talk about it. Just release me.”

“Do you promise to be a good little mando?”

Appius groaned, this was like rubbing salt in the open wound of his pride.

Realizing how counterproductive his last jab was, Turel added, “I take that as a yes.” He released Appius then walked over to help him up.

“We will need to get out of here like 5 minutes ago,” the Jedi added as he surveyed the destruction in the bar area. “This won’t be cheap to fix.”

Still shaking the numbness and soreness of getting hit with his own Force lightning, Appius retorted, “Well if you had just come with me.”

Turel rolled his eyes, “so tell me, how can I help the Consul of Taldryan?”