You stand on the Sith World of Krayiss II, a harsh, brutal land of deserts and mountainous terrain. During the battle for control of the planet, one of the deserts received a name from the Dark Jedi who fought there: the Desolation... and it was named with good reason. You've heard the stories about the desert. Heard about the sand traps, the pitfalls, and the quick sands that are scattered throughout the Desolation. Jagged, obsidian formations—hidden by the natural black sands—are a health hazard for those who do not mind their step.

Darkness sweeps across the desert leaving the hazards nearly invisible. The black of night causes the temperature to plummet and the bone-shattering cold sweeping over the barren sands saps you of your stamina. But the hostile environment is not your only concern. Somewhere in the middle of the darkness, in the vast emptiness of the desert, your opponent lies in wait. You begin to move slowly across the black sands, narrowly avoiding a fall into a dark abyss, and force yourself to continue. Nothing is going to stop you. And by either nature or blade, another victim is going to succumb to the Desolation.

Galleros stumbled and tripped over a sand trap as he began to reminisce about the rumours of this legendary desert. His tough, steel-plated and heavy duty boots fell apart in fragments and were tossed into the wind like pollen from the serrated spears of obsidian. The Quaestor was not going to last long blind in the desert. Shivering and clenching onto the soft fabrics of his robes, the Zelosian’s jaw chattered like creaky bones and his eyebrows frosted up with sand and ice from the aggressive miniature sand storms. Feeling like an ant scrambling to live on the underside of a giant boot, Galleros trekked onwards.

This Desolation will be the death of me.

With a purpose on his mind, the Quaestor walked further into the darkness, blind and unequipped to deal with desert weather. He felt shameful that he did not use a shuttle to orbit and scan the area, however he always knew his senses were going to be of better use. Just several days before, Galleros heard a rumour of a Journeyman escaping the tasks laid ahead from the Rollmaster. The Quaestor felt it was ridiculous to search for a lost cause, however the risk of a lone Dark Jedi leaving their cluster of systems and exchanging information about the Brotherhood to the Core Systems was not acceptable. Determined to protect his House, Galleros stopped a moment to reach into his waist bag and pulled out a small voice recording device. It belonged to the escaped member and was used as a dictaphone of sorts. The Zelosian carefully held it in his shivering hand and concentrated upon the member.

Krataa, Anzat male and quite inexperienced. He appears to be a Guardian, but why did he run? What is out here? Will this recorder tell me?

As Galleros concentrated, he saw the vision of the Anzat struggling to march up the dunes, he was extremely tired and clenching onto his own robes with a tome hidden under his cloak. From what Galleros could make out, it was an ancient book and of Sith origin, it made him wonder why Krataa could possibly want with the Desolation and it’s hidden death-traps. The Quaestor focused his vision on the ghostly reconstructions of the Anzat and followed his track up the dunes. Gasping more for much needed breath, Galleros was littered with many portions of sand and glass. Treading closer to the top, his boot was stabbed once more by a larger obsidian that stole his boot.

I didn’t need it anyway. Krataa is close.

The ghostly apparition slowly faded in and out of existence like the sandy winds until it finally met with the shroud of the Anzat himself. It was time to prove his worth and assert dominance. He strained his eyes as he looked out, then took in a big gasp of air and sand.

“Guardian! Where are you going?” Galleros shouted, which caused the Docent to halt in his path.

The Anzat slowly turned, his face scarred by the shards of obsidian and his expression one of disgust and exasperation. Krataa certainly didn’t want to be here, but from the expression Galleros saw, he also did not want anyone in his way. The Quaestor approached slowly, placing the voice recorder back into the bag and grabbing his lightsaber. He kept his vision on Krataa the best he could, but the darkness of the night both blinded him and struck his courage down. As he finally came within a metre gap, Krataa could clearly see the Zelosian was struggling to function in the night, and a smirk slowly crept across his lips.

“It’s best if you leave now, Quaestor, while you still have full use of your legs.” Krataa mocked Galleros, and ingited his lilac blade.

“Excuse me, but i’m not leaving without you. Whether that is in a body bag, over my shoulder or in a little jar is entirely up to you.” Galleros whispered back and ignited his emerald blade.

This will end bloody, not just for him.

The hue of the lightsabers gave poor vision of the area around the two, soon to be fighting, house members. How the blasted tree had found him was a nagging question, as he knew the Zelosians were blind at night. Must have some better connection with the Force then the young Anzat thought to himself.

Krataa lept forward, knowing the only way to get through this was to end it fast and keep the element of surprise. Praying he wouldn’t stumble on any rocks, the Guardian moved in to swing towards the right of Galleros, noticing the Quaestor favored his foot that still had a boot on it. The Zelosian handled the attack with ease, leaning slightly back and letting the momentum of Krataa’s blade swing his blade further to the left, leaving his entire body exposed. The Krath Priest quickly capitalized on this and swung his blade under the guard of the Anzat, swinging it towards his midsection, intending to disembody his opponent in half.

A smile crept across Galleros’ face as he knew he was already victorious. For some reason, the Anzat had already realized his mistake after his blade had swung past the Krath Priest, and quickly swung his body around, in a tight pivot, bringing his blade to a stop in a downturned state against the lilac blade of the outstretched Zelosian. Raising an eyebrow towards his Queastor and grinning like a maniac, then realizing that the plant like being couldn't see him, grunted and pushed back against the blade, freeing himself from this particular situation.

Stepping backwards, Krataa’s heel smashed into a rock, shouting an immediate yelp of pain and crashing on his back, where other rocks and tips of obsidian punctured into his back. During the fall his blade had fallen from his hands and extinguished itself. Galleros smirked as the Anzat cried in agony, extinguishing his blade and casting them into darkness. Whilst the Guardian was plunged into darkness and couldn’t see much beyond his own feet, his Quaestor could see him just fine and stepped slowly but deliberately towards the Docent. “I think it would be kind of you to hand over the tome you were carrying, don't you think, Krataa?”