Deep within the jungles of Karufr lies a massive temple built from stone blocks, hand-carved by the builders of the Massassi. The ancient race made its home on the planet after joining forces with Clan Taldryan, having been freed from stasis years ago. Now, an entire civilization exists, hidden far from the prying eyes of Karufr's citizenry. As a Jedi, you are one of the few to have access to their secret base.

You step onto the temple grounds and watch the fearsome warriors train in small regiments with their crude weapons. The entire temple is in a state of anticipation as the Massassi know they will soon be called on once more to aid the Dark Jedi of Taldryan in battle. The temple is shaped like a giant pyramid, towering into the sky, and serves as a backdrop to the training ground.

The War Chief notices you and gestures you forward. He clears the area around you with a bellowing command, and the Massassi warriors present form a wide circle with you at the center. A moment later, you realize you're not the only Jedi to visit the temple—the crowd parts slightly to allow the newcomer to enter the ring. The gathered Massassi holler in good cheer. They want to see a fight.

The Chief raises his weapon to the sky and barks a command. The Massassi begin to stamp their feet against the ground, creating a loud, steady beat that seems to get your blood pumping. With little choice left, you lock eyes with your opponent and ready yourself for a fight.

Liam's bearded lips quirked into a small smile as he watched the stride of the Miraluka, her back straight and confident as two large Massassi warriors escorted her in. Her hands were bound, her weapons belt clamped around the warrior on her right; it looked like a piece of the long distant future, clasped so around such a brutish specimen. Wisps of her white hair fell from the tightly-coiled braid she typically wore, having fallen loose during her evident capture by the Massassi. She had come for negotiations to Karufr, and was now prisoner to the Massassi.

Yet still, she smiled. That confirmed it; Liam's eyes glinted as he looked her over, before he spoke a command to the warriors. "Release her, and return her weapons."

Atyiru's expression flickered faintly with surprise, as her bonds were cut and her gear returned. "You're releasing me?" She asked him. "You realize I'm the Consul of Arcona, yes?"

"I do," Liam cheerily replied, the hoarse notes of his voice croaking faintly as he spoke. "Which is why I figured you would just escape anyway, and probably try to kill me."

She chuckled. "It wasn't you I was hoping to kill. Where are the Taldryanites?"

Liam's hands smoothly shifted to the long hilt of his lightsaber, the man's feet spreading to a wide, defensive stance. Activating one of the twin green blades, he held it upright. "Jedi and Taldryanite fought together against you on Korriban. You could say somebody owed me a favor." He looked to the Massassi, who backed away to watch the oncoming fight, anticipation in their eyes. "Shall we begin?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely," The Entar replied, her trademark smile widening further as her right hand took hold of her own blade. Activating its pale-blue blade, she flourished it before assuming a similar stance of her own.

The two sized one another up for a moment, looking for weaknesses. Liam moved first, his feet dancing forward as his blade tapped against her left side, then at her right. The emerald weapon crackled as glowing plasma halted its advances, swishing in a figure-eight to neatly parry both strikes. She then danced forward, her blade's tip growling as it met Liam's in a series of jabs, cuts, and small slashes. Dancing back a step, she looked the old man over, her Force-vision sizing up a tall, bulky frame.

"You seem slow," She said to him. "Perhaps you need a rest?"

"I am old, my dear, but not that old." He replied. "Thank you, though." With that, he darted forward, his blade weaving in.

Strike met parry and slash met riposte as the two spun and dance, their blades crashing against one another a hundred times. Massassi eyes studied them in awe, as the lithe form of the Entar twisted and pivoted to strike, only to crash against the bulwark of the old man's defenses. Atty's blade smashed against Liam's, only to reverse at the last second and dart for the throat. The white hair on the edge of his beard sizzled faintly, as he leaned aside from the strike, stumbling backward to defend. Onward she pressed, smiling widely, seeing his movements seem to slow and lose focus. Striking hard, she darted for the opening in his technique, aiming a fierce stab toward her chest.

At the last moment, he grinned, even as the warning of danger echoed against her senses in the Force. His blade met hers, knocking her off balance and sending her blow wide. She reeled as he twisted around behind her, leaning forward to dodge the second blade she knew was coming. Instead, a leather boot found the small of her back, knocking her over and sending her saber sprawling. Rolling back to her knees, she snatched up her weapon and lit it, only to see the man standing peacefully before her. Confusion filled her, but only for a moment.

"You'd wait for your enemy to get ready?" She asked incredulously. "Not what I expected from such a fabled, great warrior."

"Wars do not make one great." He replied with a small smile. As ever, he seemed to radiate calmness, a sense of peace.

She stood cautiously, settling into a more firm stance; his sudden speed had surprised her, but now she knew to expect it. "I hardly had any warning for that. Any sense of danger." She said guardedly, as she sized him up. "Almost as if you didn't want to kill me at all. What tricks are you using?"

"It's simple, really," He replied, smiling. The second blade of his saberstaff at last shot forth, as he assumed a more aggressive stance. "I didn't, and I don't." He came at her then, flowing forward, twin blades delivering a whirling waterfall of downward strikes at his foe.

Two blades struck against one in a maelstrom of fury, like verdant lightning strikes crashing to the ground, again and again. Atyiru withstood the onslaught only by the grace of her gods and the grace of her opponent’s will, her own saber ceasing its twirling just to weather the storm.

Her joints and muscles collapsed under the incredible strength of Liam’s blows, forcing her to the ground as her back bowed and her legs folded under her. Her long hair coiled in the dirt, and her shoulders felt like they were slowly tearing out of their sockets.

Another strike fell, a condemning hammer blow, and tore her lightsaber from her desperate grip. She waited for the burning, the pain, and then the darkness as the second blade arched downwards.

But none came.

As if waking from a beautiful dream, the Cleric stood above her, lowering his raised saber to his side with all the careful patience of a falling leaf. He smiled simply, sternly, deactivating his second blade again and reaching for her.

A warm, strong hand with aged-vellum skin clasped around her forearm and pulled her to her feet. The Odanite stepped smoothly back, feet floating across the ground, and gestured with his free hand to her fallen saber.

“Come,” he beckoned, friendly smile still in place. His voice was soft, distant thunder. She shivered, bemused. “Again.”

Atyiru worked her jaw, using a small part of her mind that wasn’t confounded to embrace the Force and heal her strained muscles. She should have been dead thrice over, and yet the elder man’s words rang true and clear as a bell’s paean. He did not mean to hurt her, did not want to. She sensed...nothing from him. Stillness, yet no grief.

This man, this Jedi, was something different from the world she had grown so accustomed to. He was an easy, slow breath of frosted morning air. He was the steady slant of a sunbeam on the icy shore. He was the glinting sparkle of light dappling on cold water before peering closer at the deep, cut-flower silence beneath.

An old, old pain ached deep in her chest and in her bones. Yes, he was a Jedi. And he was also a truly good man.

The malaise plaguing her twisted and festered, sparking quickly into something burning, something venomous and bitter. She bared her teeth in an expression that was no smile at all and called her lightsaber back to her hand with half a thought. Gripping the pommel tightly, the Miraluka activated the blade and let out a furious cry, throwing herself forward.

Two steps, she lunged. Liam pivoted and swept a foot back, turning to his side, crouched wide and low. His saber licked up, met hers, once twice. Atyiru struck out again, her sudden anger roaring hot and bright, exacerbated by her opponent’s attitude.

He was smiling, calm and cool and welcoming as the sea. Just smiling and weathering her strikes without any discomfort. He did not budge an inch, his feet firmly planted in exactly the same place they had begun, his saber twitching just enough to deflect her next attack.

“You know,” the Jedi observed casually, as if he was not at all engaged in a duel. And he wasn’t, not really. “We are one in the same. I can see it in you now.”

“I am nothing like you!” Atyiru hissed, heart galloping in her chest and heat flushing her skin. “NOTHING, you understand?!”

She called and the Force answered, pouring into her, filling all the places her burning rage left charred and empty. With preternatural speed she pirouetted and twirled around his guard, saber darting for his exposed back.

Easy as a breath his second saber ignited and caught her strike, holding her fast. Liam glanced over his shoulder at her, his expression patient.

“To be young and so full of anger,” he chuckled slightly. “You are a promising new Consul for your Clan. I doubt you’ll have any trouble finding your path, once you let go of what holds you back.”

“Be silent,” the Archpriestess snapped, disengaging and dancing back across the dirt as the Massassi around them rumbled and howled. Their raucous noise echoed the beat of the blood rushing in her ears.

Sneering, she charged again.

Liam's blade snapped up to answer, batting aside the tip of Atyiru's and causing the edge of the weapon to go wide. Her footwork was flawless in response as she pivoted, her body spinning to bring her saber around in a vicious, beheading strike. It stopped seconds away from Liam's neck, as his first blade slipped back into its hilt, its peer shooting out to catch Atty's weapon with ease. Pushing her back, he danced a few steps away, taking up another defensive posture.

The Entar's enraged face twisted as she screamed in frustration, her pale skin taking on a reddish blush. "Will you just attack, already?"

Liam smirked, shifting his left foot a few inches further from the right. "As you wish," He said cheerfully.

Surprise dawned on her face; Liam didn't even give her time to realize it, as both of his blades screamed to emerald life. The man was as a tidal wave as he fell upon her, her Soresu training all that saved her as she was forced to pivot and twist. Her face shifted from the twisted visage of fury to that of fear, as his weapon crashed against hers again and again, two blades seeming to roll after and chase one another, a deadly rain crashing against the Archpriestess. He gave her no time to adapt; as she shifted to parry downward strikes, he flowed like the river, twisting effortlessly to strike at shin and arm. His blade grazed against the edge of her thigh, biting skin and cloth and turning them to vapour; seconds later, it sheared away the strands of hair that had fallen on her cheek.

In desperation, she abandoned any pretense of saber defense; hurling herself into him, shoulder-first, she threw the old man off balance. It gave her just enough time to roll back, coming up in a cross-guard position and panting for breath. "That," She snapped, "Is closer to what they told me about you."

"I'm sure it is," Liam replied with a smile. "The enemies of the Jedi have always lied about us."

"Did they?" She growled back. "Did they lie about your blades striking soldiers and servicemen from life on Korriban, or on the other Sith worlds?" Her blade flourished, as she settled back on her heels and brought it up over her shoulder. "How about the stories of you killing Arconans? Killing my Clansmen?"

"Sadly," Liam replied, "Those stories were true."

The Consul before him smiled for a moment, before it waivered on her face. "You..." She raised an eyebrow, the movement contorting the cloth wrapped around empty eye sockets. "You don' t seem to feel any grief."

"No," Liam replied. "We were at war, and they all became one with the Force. As must we all." With that, he darted for her, blades spinning for another assault.

Like a lightning flash, bright and deadly before the boom, he came. Yet the thunder never followed, as Atyiru's saber slid back into its hilt, the Arconan clipping it to her belt as she leapt into the air. Flipping above him, she drew out her blasters, SoroSuub and DL-18 releasing a stream of bolts aimed at the old man below her; his weapon came up, its spinning blades seeming as a green sun as they twirled to knock charged tibanna aside. Each bolt smashed into stone and mortar, blasting dust and debris across the courtyard. The lines of the old hermit's face stretched as he squinted, an attempt to keep the grit and filth from muddling his vision.

From the murk she came, a shadow upon the air, parted quickly by the teal glow of a lightsaber.

She struck with the ferocity of a wounded beast, shrieks and growls escaping her as she threw her all into the assault. Tiny puffs of smoke and ember danced upon the air as her blade kissed brown robe, woven fabric turned to ash and vapour at the touch of magnetized plasma. He brought up his defenses, only to have them smashed aside; his blades whirled and were battered backward, as a cliff face might part in the wake of an avalanche. Their deadly dance moved faster than any eye could follow, the Massassi in attendance watching in awe as ozone and heat mixed with dust and wind. Again and again she struck, unrelenting, knocking aside his guard; with a triumphant roar, she stabbed for his chest, the blade grazing his left shoulder as he ducked down to avoid it.

Her roar became a gasp as his left hand wrapped around her arm, pulling her closer to snap a vicious headbutt against her nose; as she reeled backward he reached out again, pulling her in close to deliver a fierce knee to the sternum. She let out a cry of pain, pushing away from him and reeling back in desperation, her blade swinging futilely to hold him back. The crack of his blade on hers was like the ground parting beneath them, as her saber slipped from disoriented fingers, flying across the courtyard. A firm hilt-strike to the chest knocked her backward, and she fell to her knees, panting.

She looked up at him, blood trickling from a broken nose, hot anger replaced by cold failure. "Go on," She whispered, a tear of defeat trickling from empty eyes, "End it. Prove your point."

Liam's face softened, as his blades deactivated. "Your death is not my point." He looked upon her, the cold determination in his actions swept away by the warmth of his voice. "You were right, young one. You are not like me," He said to her. "But perhaps one day, you could be." He turned, walking slowly and patiently toward the exit, his boot heels loud and determined against the sudden silence of the arena. "When you want to discuss the future, you'll find me again."

As he departed, the Miraluka sank back to her knees, as her former captors followed the Jedi. Her expression betrayed surprise again, before she stood slowly, taking her weapon from the ground and clipping it to her belt. None would bar her departure; this fight, as the war it had followed, was over.