The building that has become the Chyron Embassy is not the tallest in Port Kasiya, but it surpasses all others in the city's northeast. Basalt sidewalks smelling ever so slightly of brimstone underline a time-worn facade that's decrepit from the ground floor to a dozen stories up, then morphs into a modern steel-and-glass construct with a narrow landing platform extending an easy 300 metres high over the road. Patrons have to crane their heads back quite far to see it, though, and they are often more interested in stepping through the scratched but sturdy double doors which may be flanked by clients, bouncers, drunks, and duct-taped living warnings.

Seven shallow steps lead down onto the carefully dilapidated hardwood main bar floor, though "bar" might not be the right word anymore. Mismatched tables and chairs litter the room, while more comfortable niches with couches and two smaller sidebars occupy most of the walls. On the left side, an extending stage with a pole leaves no doubt about the kind of entertainment provided here, while on the right, a discreet exit leads to rooms best suited for negotiations or private parties.

Straight ahead, between the wings of a formerly grand foyer staircase mostly frequented by pretty people with little clothing, resides the curved main counter as an island, with the dark niches in between leading to the back - but one cannot shake the feeling that entry comes with a price that might not be paid fully by coin. The staff are unerringly smiling people with hard eyes, much like the owner, the Chyron’s Chancellor, Jorm Na'trej. This bar, this whole building, is their domain, their trap and their hunting range.

One instantly realises that any wish, any pleasure and desire, is just a word and a payment away.

One knows that this place is the antithesis to every value taught and preached among normal people.

One is greeted.

"Welcome to the Playground."

The dimly lit ambiance of the Playground seemed to embrace Nora as she stepped through the worn double doors, her cerise skin catching the subtle glow of neon lights. The air was thick with a heady mix of anticipation and mischief, blending seamlessly with the faint scent of brimstone from the basalt sidewalks outside. Nora's emerald eyes scanned the room, her gaze settling on the stage where a lone performer swirled around the pole in an intricate dance.

As she made her way towards the main counter, the unerring smiles of the staff couldn't quite mask the hardness in their eyes. Nora had heard tales of this place, the Chyron Embassy, and its enigmatic owner, Jorm Na'trej. This was no ordinary bar; it was a playground for those who reveled in the shadows, a realm where desires were bought and sold with equal measure.

"Welcome to the Playground," the greeting resonated through the air as Nora took a seat at the curved main counter. She could feel the weight of the atmosphere, the unspoken tension that lingered in every corner. Her blue hair cascaded down her shoulders as she glanced around, seemingly unfazed by the decadence that surrounded her.

It was then that she spotted him – Draca Zul, the Male Zabrak Jedi, Marauder. His brown eyes met hers briefly, and in that fleeting moment, she sensed a disturbance in the Force. The air crackled with an undercurrent of conflicting energies. Nora's lips curled into a sly smile as she realized the duel that was about to unfold, the clash of two worlds converging in this forbidden playground.

She raised her glass, an invitation in her gaze. The unspoken challenge hung in the air, and Nora knew that this encounter would be more than just a clash of lightsabers. It would be a dance of shadows, a test of strength and wits in the heart of the Chyron Embassy.

Nora's slender fingers traced the rim of her glass, the crystal clear surface reflecting the dim glow of the neon lights. The mismatched tables and chairs around her seemed to fade into the background as she focused on Draca Zul, who now stood across the room. His dark brown hair framed a stoic expression, and the three prominent horns atop his head hinted at the Zabrak's innate strength.

The subtle hum of energy in the air intensified, an unspoken challenge echoing through the Playground. The patrons, lost in their own pursuits, began to sense the impending clash. Whispers reverberated through the room like a soft breeze carrying tales of duels long remembered.

Nora's emerald eyes locked onto Draca's brown orbs, a silent communication passing between them. The Playground, with its discreet niches and shadowed corners, seemed to amplify the tension. The stage with its dancing performer and the alluring allure of the venue's illicit offerings faded into the background as the dueling pair became the focal point of the room.

A murmur of excitement swept through the air, as patrons and staff alike sensed the impending conflict. The hardwood floor beneath Nora's boots seemed to resonate with the anticipation of the clash to come. This was not merely about physical combat; it was a test of cunning, strategy, and the ability to navigate the intricate web of the Playground's clandestine machinations.

Nora's lips curled into a confident smile, revealing a hint of mischief. The air around her crackled with the dark energy of the Sith, a stark contrast to the serene composure of the Jedi Marauder. The Playground was a canvas, and within its walls, the dueling narrative would unfold with every step, every calculated move.

Patrons spread themselves around the area, creating a sort of mini-arena for the two to fight in.

Why, oh why did it have to be The Playground?

Draca would never be caught dead in a hellhole such as this unless he had to be and sure enough, he'd come following Nora's signature in the Force like a moth to a flame. The Playground was filled with those whose moral tendencies leaned towards the lower end of the spectrum. It was a place where the predatory could prey on the weak, desperate, and needy.

Well, that might explain what Nora was doing here. She seemed like the type from their previous confrontation during the blizzard.

Without so much as a word, the Zeltron took two seconds to concentrate her power before leaping into the air between them with amplified speed. She soared towards the young Jedi with a manic grin, blue lightsaber cracking out of the hilt in her hand. She swung wildly, attempting to strike the Zabrak from whence he stood, an attempt at showing superiority over him.

Draca felt the attack coming before her weapon was even in her hand. He bent his knees and twisted his body, Nora's swing missed him by centimetres as he sidestepped. He hooked his arm underneath hers, using her momentum to send her crashing across the bar counter. Glasses filled with an assortment of legal and illegal substances smashed on the floor around her.

“What are you still doing here, Nora?” Draca's question was as demanding as it was accusatory. “The blizzard stopped hours ago. Everyone has gone ho-”

Again, the Force came to Draca's aid. He brought his arm up to defend himself as Nora flipped herself onto her front. She glared at Draca for several moments with eyes that if looks could kill, he'd be six feet under. Nothing prepared the young Zabrak for the hallowing screech that left her throat. Draca covered his ears with his hands, but it was too late to stop the ringing. He'd given her too much time to prepare.

The Zeltron stumbled off of the bar counter, wincing and clutching at her throat. She paid no mind to the damage she'd done both to property and patrons now clutching their ears. It was their fault for being in the way. She summoned the will to throw forward an open palm. The blast of telekinetic energy slammed into Draca head on and pushed him back, slamming him spine-first into one of the durasteel support beams for the building. The young Jedi gasped as the air was forced out of his lungs.

Nora took a deep breath, coughing and sputtering to clear her throat. “Oh, I have been looking forward to this. The clash of light and dark, the chaos, the pain. Alaisy had her chance against you. Now it's my turn!”

“Is that what this is about!?” Draca regained his composure. He was getting really tired of her light and dark rhetoric. “It's hardly my fault that your pride is hurt.”

The Zabrak watched as Nora's lips curved into a smirk. He braced himself, positioning himself in the Teräs Käsi opening stance, arm stretched out in a challenge like the rock lions of Zaloriis. Whatever she was up to, he'd be ready.

”You will lower your arms.”

“I… will…” the Jedi felt the suggestion weave through his mind. He grit his teeth, trying desperately to fight against it. His arms twitched as they lowered to his side.

Nora brandished her Sith Scepter, and the dark aura it exuded snapped Draca from his miasma. The Jedi mentally cursed as Nora attempted to cut him, scrape him, hurt, but not kill, toying with him like a cat chasing a mouse. The weapon tore through his jedi cloak with each evasion, parry, and misdirection until it looked like little more than shredded fabric. For all of the Zeltron's ingenuity, Draca was just considerably faster, a fact that irritated the Sith to no end when none of her attacks struck true.

“HOLD STILL YOU LITTLE…”

Nora lunged at Draca, but paid no mind to the people behind him. When Draca moved out of the way, her weapon tore through the abdomen of some poor Human spectator. When she stepped back, blood dripped off of the end of the sceptre.

“Oh…” Nora inspected the blood and shrugged before breaking out into a cackling laughter. She enjoyed listening to the poor Human's scream of anguish. “Whoopsie!”

Draca went cold. Some of the patrons cheered at the violence whilst some screamed for bloody vengeance. Here it was, another death. A death that could have been avoided if it wasn't for this stupid, pointless battle!

Nora wanted to fight, did she? So be it, and the Zabrak was going to enjoy beating her. He was going to enjoy bringing her to justice.

He grabbed hold of his saberstaff, both blades igniting out of either end in a blaze of multi-hued extravagance. Some patrons whistled upon seeing the weapon whilst others cheered. Draca didn't care.

Instead, he ripped off what remained of his cloak. The Jedi held his lightsaber horizontally in front of him “You want to fight, Nora? Fine! I gave you a chance. Clearly, it was one chance too many. You'll pay for what you've done.”

The pulsating beat of the Playground's music underscored the intense atmosphere as Nora and Draca faced each other amidst the chaos they had unleashed. The air crackled with tension and the scent of spilled drinks mixed with the metallic tang of blood.

Nora's manic laughter echoed through the dimly lit space, a stark contrast to Draca's stern determination. The Zabrak Jedi twirled his saberstaff skillfully, the blades casting a mesmerizing dance of light and shadow. He took a step forward, eyes locked onto Nora, ready for the impending clash.

The Zeltron's emerald eyes narrowed, her Sith Scepter held aloft. With a swift motion, she lunged at Draca, the red blade of her weapon meeting the vibrant hues of the saberstaff in a dazzling display of combat. Sparks flew as the two adversaries engaged in a frenzied dance, each move calculated and met with a swift counter.

The patrons, initially caught between fear and excitement, formed a makeshift ring around the combatants, creating an impromptu arena for the battle. Whispers and gasps filled the air as the spectators bore witness to the clash of light and dark, a spectacle that transcended the boundaries of mere entertainment.

Draca's agility proved to be a formidable defense against Nora's relentless attacks. The Zabrak twisted and dodged, using the Force to enhance his movements. In response, Nora's attacks grew more unpredictable, fueled by the dark side's chaotic influence. The dueling pair moved with a grace that belied the danger that lurked in every strike.

As the battle raged on, the Playground seemed to absorb the energy of the conflict. The neon lights flickered in rhythm with the clashes, casting erratic patterns on the worn walls. The stage, once adorned with a lone performer, now stood abandoned as the focus shifted entirely to the duel that unfolded with increasing intensity.

With a sudden surge of power, Nora unleashed a wave of dark energy, attempting to disorient Draca. The Jedi Marauder gritted his teeth, using the Force to maintain his balance. The spectators watched in awe as the combatants continued their dance, each refusing to yield to the other.

The Zabrak's determination burned bright as he summoned the Force to enhance his attacks. The blades of his saberstaff became a blur as he pressed the assault, forcing Nora to defend with all her skill. The Sith Scepter clashed against the saberstaff, the struggle between the light and dark encapsulated in the clash of their weapons.

A hush fell over the crowd as the battle reached its climax. Draca, fueled by a sense of justice, delivered a powerful blow that sent Nora sprawling to the ground. The Sith Scepter skittered away, its dark energy momentarily subdued.

The Zeltron lay on the floor, breathing heavily, her cerise skin now marked with bruises and scratches. Draca stood over her, lightsaber at the ready, the glow reflecting in his determined brown eyes. The patrons watched in silence, the tension thick in the air.

"Enough," Draca declared, his voice cutting through the stillness. "Your path ends here, Nora. The darkness won't consume you any further."

For a moment, the Playground fell into an eerie silence. Then, with a mixture of relief and uncertainty, the patrons began to disperse, leaving the aftermath of the duel behind. The neon lights continued their erratic dance, casting a surreal glow on the worn floor.

Nora looked up at Draca, a mixture of defiance and resignation in her emerald eyes. The battle had come to an end, but the echoes of their clash lingered in the dimly lit corners of the Chyron Embassy. The Playground, with its secrets and shadows, had borne witness to a chapter in the ongoing saga of light and dark.

Nora laughed.

She laughed at him. Her voice cracked in the air between them like verbal thunder before the start of the storm.

“Oh, I'll pay, will I!?” The Zeltron glared menacingly. “You are pathetic. Your order is pathetic. Your weapon is pathetic, and that man I killed was so pathetic you couldn't be bothered to save him when you could!”

Draca had heard enough. Who did she think she was, judging him when she delighted in the torment of others? Something snapped within the young man's psyche. The key that locked the cage to the Jedi's innermost darkness turned and opened. Something raw and primal burst from the Zabrak, surging and fueling his body as he shot forward towards Nora with reckless abandon.

Nora thrust forward with her sceptre. Yet, tapping into the Force to enhance one's physical prowess was as natural to Draca as breathing. As the tip of the bladed weapon approached him, he battered it down with one side of his saberstaff. The sudden force behind the Jedi's attack took the Sith by surprise and ripped the weapon from her grasp, sending it clamouring to the floor. The Zeltron went wide-eyed and grabbed her lightsaber to defend herself.

Nora's blue lightsaber clashed with the rainbow-hued saberstaff, the sparks hissing with each contact of their blades. She immediately burst into a vicious, unrelenting assault, forming a crescendo of attacks against one another that amazed the crowds around them and stunned them into silence. To the untrained eye, their attacks were similar to one another. Both were unrelentingly aggressive, unpredictable and wild. The Sith surrendered her instincts to the dark side of the Force, becoming one with the chaotic torrents as her blade moved in ferocious swings designed to tear her opponent to pieces. High, low, side to side. Only victory mattered and she’d do anything to take it. This was exactly the rhetoric about the dark side that she had been spurting to the young Zabrak during their initial meeting in the blizzard.

Draca had accepted all of it. Her fury, her hate, her passion. Her power in the dark side served as fuel for the furnace which formed the super conductive loop between them both. The Jedi skirted the line between the light and dark side of the Force as he submerged himself completely into Vaapad. It was, after all, a state of mind. An acceptance of not only his opponent's innermost darkness, but his own. He didn't succumb to the darkness like Nora did. He controlled his lust for battle and acknowledged his desire to win. It didn't hold any power over him, nor did he over it. He matched each of the Sith's attacks with rapid, explosive swings of his own.

The Zabrak observed the strain on Nora's face, sweat forming on her brow as she bared her teeth at him.Her skin toned deepened as she breathed heavier and yet, as she got slower, Draca moved faster, his footsteps becoming light as he fell into a rhythm. He twisted his hilt and they separated at the middle, forming a single blade in each of his hands. The young Jedi became a blur of multi-coloured fire empowered by the Force as they fought around The Playground. He assaulted his opponent, battering at what little remained of Nora's defences until an opening presented itself.

He struck out with his elbow, connecting with her cheek. It wasn't a strong strike, but it was enough to unbalance and stagger her. When she regained her composure, Draca twisted his body and plunged his sabers into her abdomen.

Nora gasped, her weapon falling from her hand. Draca stood above her, panting, but the feeling of victory came with it followed by the sound of thunderous applause. The Sith collapsed to the ground.

He'd done it. He'd won!

Draca reformed his saberstaff and retracted the blades of his weapon. He placed the hilt on his belt and stared at the weakened form of Nora at his feet. He shook his head. It was a shame. Though, she deserved no less for what she'd done.

He turned to leave, but found himself frozen in place. It wasn't an act of the Force, nor a new opponent, but his consciousness.

’Be the change you want to see…’

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Even after everything, he couldn't leave her there. A part of him told him what he was about to do was a terrible idea, but he suppressed those thoughts until they were little more than a whisper.

Besides, he had an audience. It was time to set an example.

The Jedi kneeled beside Nora and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the torrent of light side energy weave its way through his body and out of the palm of his hands into Nora.

“Wha… what are you…” Nora tried to speak.

“Hush,” Draca said. “I am going to heal you. When I'm done, you will leave. Is that understood?”

Nora didn't say a word, causing Draca to smile. Deep down, he knew the worst wound she had sustained today was to her pride.

“I'll take that as a yes,” he muttered, returning to his job of healing her wounds, his point firmly made.