The library was designed to look ancient. Old architecture. Cold, grey brick. High arches and a vaulted, domed ceiling. Wrought-iron sconces hang from the walls to provide light, flickering with real flames. It had all been crafted to hide the fact that the Academy was less than two decades old. The lower level is rectangular, twice as long as it is wide. The middle is filled with chairs and tables, where students study. On either side, large wooden bookshelves hold tomes of knowledge accessible to all members of the Brotherhood. In the center of the floor stands a monument to Jedgar Octavius Paladin, the founder of the first Shadow Academy.

By taking one of the two main staircases on the North and South sides of the library, one can access the second floor. The two sides of the upper level are connected by stone pathways, and the first floor was completely visible below. The upper level held fewer tomes, but contained more advanced knowledge. Often, it's used by students who required silence and introspection for their studies.

Despite the solemn purpose of the library, fights still break out between the students, who always seek to prove themselves against their peers. Punishment awaits those who damage the library, but rarely do instructors step in to stop the fights. Students usually watch in interest, or place bets on the combatants, glad for the show to break up the monotony of their studies

You know you will have to answer for your transgressions, but you can no longer contain the desire to fight. You listen to the whispers as the other students place bets, but you can also sense those who might ally with or against you. The Academy may be a place of neutrality, but it was hard to leave loyalty to your House at the door. You brush your thumb over your weapon, focusing on your opponent as tables clear around you. There is no turning back now…

Battle link: https://www.darkjedibrotherhood.com/acc/acc_battles/295

“Are you deaf or something?” the young human in front of her spoke in a mocking tone. “I said, the Empire was right to wipe out your pathetic order. You’re nothing but roaches crawling under the belly of the Dark Council,” he turned to his fellow students, “and now they have one of their kind in it.”

Grumbling, agreement, open hostility. All were mirrored in the faces of the students around her. No one had the courage, or the sense, to oppose the words of her challenger. Who would, after all, when surrounded by a mob of angry Sith looking for blood. And she was a fresh victim ready for the slaughter.

“I say,” the ringleader continued, “we gut her like a mynock and see a proper Sith sit in that seat she so jealously guards. A Sith should be Herald, not this.” He gestured towards her in disgust.

Vorsa’s eyes darted from one face to another, one pillar to the next, but always focused back on her opponent. If he attacked, they all would, and then she would be in trouble. Even her experience and the obvious gap in skill wouldn’t help her against a mob. The crowd seemed bent on a fight, but none of them came in closer. They backed away as soon as her golden eyes pierced them. She didn’t look threatening, but they all knew who and what she was. An Equite of her calibre is not a laughing matter.

“Come on lads, let’s get us a Jedi’s head.” the ringleader hissed as he turned towards Vorsa again. Her focus shifted to his eyes, her body readied for an attack from the front, lowering itself into a guard stance ready to pounce out of the way. Then the student’s eyes veerd off of her, to the left, and up.

Not from the front. From the side. Instinctively the Neti rolled right, away from her perceived target. Her sixth sense rang like a bell tower, warning her against the attack.

And so it came. The blaster bolt missed her by inches, just as she ducked away. She did a double roll and crouched, using a nearby table as cover. Most of the mob dissipated after the shot hit one of the unlucky students and dropped him dead. The ringleader, of course, was the first to bolt out of there.

Vorsa focused on the now and cleared her head. The shot came from on high, well positioned in the darkness of the library’s massive pillars. Focusing her mind, she searched for anything that could help her pinpoint her adversary. A small light in the Force appeared as she focused even more. The assassin hung from one of the pillars, cloaked out of view, silent and still as the grave.

Vorsa knew he would shoot the moment she reared her head, that’s the only reason he didn’t reposition himself for a better shot. She would have been in the open, were it not for the table covering her. She calmed herself further, resisting the urges she had so long suppressed. No matter who this assassin was, she would not kill him. Information is much more important than a cold, dead body. She hoped she was doing the right thing.

Her fingers moved and one of the candelabra's on the nearby table rose from the surface. It flew like a projectile at the location she presumed the assassin was in. A clang followed as metal hit brick and a shallow thump as the assassin jumped to the floor. The Neti used the distraction to her advantage and closed the gap between them quickly. Charging straight for the assassin, now fully visible in the sconces’ light, the Neti stopped inches from her aggressor - enough to breathe on him in fact - and released a focused wave of energy. It forced the blaster from his grip and threw him directly into the pillar, fifteen feet behind.

The assassin hit with an audible thud as his back hit the brick with enough force to stagger anyone. He stumbled several steps at first but soon found his center and activated a green lightsaber.

“Green,” Vorsa started, “fitting that it should be green that takes my life. I would have prefered a death by impalement in place of the blaster, however. At least then I can see my assailant and thank him for a good death.” her own flame colored blade extended outward with a snap-hiss. The assassin made a step closer, but Vorsa raised a hand to stop him.

“I have no wish to kill you, nor do I have a wish to die this day. Surprise is the best strategy of war, and you have lost it. When stratagem is lost, the battle is lost. Retreat today to fight another.” she spoke her lesson calmly, like any general would.

“You have a mark, and I cannot retreat until that mark is erased.” the young man replied with an even tone. She only now noticed that his whole face was covered with cloth, including his eyes. Miraluka.

“As you will. I am prepared to die,” she raised her saber in an opening stance, issuing a challenge, “are you?”

The Assassin shifted slightly as he brought the emerald blade of his lightsaber to the ready position by pointing it at his opponent's right eye. He slid his left foot back behind his right while bent his knees slightly for balance.

“Yes I am prepared to die, but you are already dead. You have been from the moment the contract was signed, your body just hasn’t realized it yet.”

Looking over at the four Dark Jedi that were watching the scene unfold he snapped out a command. “Go and seal all of the exits! And gather as many people who are still around that want to see this Jedi removed from the Council!”

Smiles broke out across the four Sith’s faces as they turned to finish the task they had been given.

“You see, your Lordship. Even if you do kill me, our fight will draw out the bloodlust of everyone here who wants to see you dead. You may be powerful, but you cant beat everyone here. Even in death my final contract will succeed,” Revs stated matter-of -factly.

“Well, I guess you leave me no choice but to stop you quickly before they return.” The Guardian Peacekeeper responded. “Prepare yourself, Assassin.”

“Way ahead of you!” The Miraluka yelled as he lunged forward, jabbing at his opponent's chest. The Neti quickly parried and countered his attack, which he responded to with a quick riposte. The two fell into a rhythm with each other. Each attack being blocked and countered, and each counter attack starting the cycle anew. It was clear that even though the two fought in completely different styles, both were matched in skill. Though Revs was sure he could out last the Jedi’s stamina, the ache in his back made him not want to risk trying it.

The young Shadesworn was not exactly sure how a Neti would be affected by being stabbed with a knife, but he was willing to find out. In one swift motion, he pushed his opponent's lightsaber off-line while dropping to one knee. He quickly drew the boot knife that his former master had given him and dug it all the way to the hilt into V'yr’s right thigh.

The Herald let out a small scream as she stumbled to her left. Taking an opening to gain back the element of surprise, Revs used the force to amplify his speed, allowing him to quickly darted around into the next aisle. Slamming his shoulder into one of the bookcases he watched as the Council member failed to move fast enough to dodge the the falling shelf, burying her under its contents.

The Assassin pulled off his cloak and mask and tossed them aside. He could hear the shuffle of footsteps coming closer. He knew the other Sith were on their way back, and in more numbers. Cloaking himself in the Force, the Miraluka climbed on top of a shelf overlooking the pile of books. He was sure that his mark was not dead, but he would be ready for when she crawled out.

The multitude of ancient books, data cards and datapads covered Vorsa from head to toe. As they fell atop her, she had managed to shift her body enough and prevented any major injuries but the heavy bookshelf, itself pressing down onto the books she was under, pinned her left side to the floor. Her right side, however, was still free to move. She touched about blindly, now in complete darkness as the rubble blotted out the light, trying to find anything to grab onto and pull herself out. She felt a narrow crack in the floor, latched her fingers into it and pulled but the shelf and the books simply moved with her, pinning her further the more she tried to squeeze from under them. It was futile, she knew. She would need help from the outside.

That too was a problem, for the young assassin was overlooking her precarious position, or so she deduced from his behaviour so far. He obviously preferred high places where he could scout the situation and choose his own moves at his leisure. As soon as she was out from the rubble, he would most likely take her by surprise. On top of that, the other students, emboldened by the assassin’s show of force, now flocked toward her like a pack of hungry wolves.

Think. Stay in the now. she thought to herself. Firstly, remove the dagger. Heal and recuperate. Use the time you have. Her right hand slid down, ever so slowly, toward the dagger hilt protruding from her leg. Inching little by little so as not to move the bookshelf again, she grasped the hilt firmly and pulled the dagger out. Just barely suppressing a yelp, she set it aside slowly, without a sound. The wound expelled life-giving ichor as she concentrated, connecting her mind to the environment. The Force flooded her body, creeping through her appendages and soothing much of the pain she felt. It was like a dawn after a cold night, and she slowly felt better.

She heard footsteps around her as the students had begun to search under the rubble. She ignored them and concentrated on her wound. Slowly, ever so slowly it began to close, but it wasn’t enough yet. She needed more.

“I see her!” one of the students yelled, “She’s buried right there.”

Several of them circled her position and grabbed hold of the shelf that pinned her down. She still concentrated, even while feeling the shelf give way. More students joined in to help their comrades, clearly unable to move the heavy shelf alone. Some laughed, some bragged, but some stood aside, wanting no part in the sick game.

Vorsa’s brow furrowed as more Force energy entered her body than before. It flowed like an ethereal storm above and around her, filling the space with an immense pressure. Everyone in the vicinity felt it, even the assassin, who shifted slightly with curiosity, his senses tingling with imminent danger. Just as the students lifted the shelf and Vorsa’s wound closed, her golden eyes opened.

Like a shock wave from exploding ordnance, the Force spread from Vorsa in all directions. The books, the bookshelf, and even the students flew backwards in a rending fusillade of energy that threw everything in the Neti’s vicinity dozens of feet away. Revs dodged several datapads and books flung in his general direction but otherwise stayed in position.

As the dust settled, he could sense his adversary standing in the middle of the chaos. Vorsa’s golden eyes reflected the candlelight with a menacing look. They pierced the darkness and found the assassin perched on his nest. Even if he couldn't see her, he felt her intent all too clearly.

“Guardsman!” Vorsa billowed into the darkness, now clearly unamused and short on patience. Booted footsteps sounded from behind one of the farthest pillars as one of the Grand Master’s Royal Guard emerged, clad in heraldry and the signature red armor, force pike in hand. His presence was always expected yet rarely seen, as it should have been. However this particular guardsman never moved from his spot when his charge was attacked.

“Tell me, Guardsman,” Vorsa began, never moving her deadly gaze from Revs, ”were you intending to help me at all?”

“Yes, Herald.” a short reply came quickly after a slight pause. Clearly he had expected the fight to finish quickly enough that he wouldn’t have to explain himself. The display of raw power the Neti had shown moments ago left even him baffled under the heavy helmet. “I was just…”

“Enough.” Vorsa’s calm reply silenced him immediately, “Keep these students away from the fight. That is your charge. I do not wish death upon any of them. Am I understood?” She ordered.

Another pause, “Yes, Herald.” He replied and moved toward the rest of the students, now frozen in shock, reeling or dragging themselves from under debris. He gave Vorsa a wide berth, just in case she decided to lop off his head.

Vorsa’s full attention turned fully to the Miraluka, golden eyes observing every inch of the assassin. “I was truly willing to let you leave, child. And I still am, should you decide to go - now.” Revs pulled out his saber hilt in reply, a stern expression on his face. He wasn’t backing down.

Foolish, child. Foolish. she thought and charged forward, her saber igniting with a shriek. Revs’ own burst brightly to life in reply just as Vorsa came within inches of striking him. Shock covered the young man’s face. Her speed was immense, letting her close the gap in the time he'd needed to ignite his blade. Revs jumped back and away from the Neti as he defended himself. Enhancing his own speed, he landed away from the bookshelf that was his perch, to the floor below. Vorsa followed with an attack from above, slashing air where the assassin had stood only moments before.

With strike after strike, Vorsa pushed the Knight back. Even his enhanced speed could not match that of the Herald of the Brotherhood. Revs span around himself several times, blocking blows from every direction equally and dodging deathly close strikes from odd angles, each coming within inches of taking his life. Vorsa moved like a flash between strikes, her saber style making it seem like she had not one but several sabers at her disposal. It was brutal, it was merciless - it was unlike any Jedi Revs had ever fought. Suddenly the thought of lightsiders being weeklings seemed all too distant to him.

Searing pain spread from his side as Vorsa’s saber grazed his skin through his clothes. The stench of burnt flesh and ozone filled his nostrils and his concentration faltered. The Neti’s strike was swift and efficient. Revs’ hand, saber still clenched, flew from his body in one swift strike. The Neti never paused to hear his yelp of pain, stabbing the young man through the thigh, tackling him to his knees. Revs fell down, bellowing in pain. The fight was over, but Vorsa still held her saber high as she spun around, ready for a deadly strike.

She stopped. Her eyes, now filled with anger more than ever before, slowly widened as she perceived what she was doing.

“Do it!” Revs grimaced and said through his teeth. “I’m dead if I don’t return with my contract fulfilled.”

Vorsa pushed the activation switch on her saber and powered it down. She beckoned to the Force to soothe her again, to calm her down. It was always like this. Some other part of her would take over when she fought. Some darker part, one that held an edge in combat. It was a fight against herself as much as her opponent. Ever on the knife’s edge, teetering on the fall.

She pushed the negative feelings aside, like so many times before and looked down on the poor man with compassionate eyes. “No, child. I am no killer.” she spoke calmly, “It was your foolishness that made this happen, and nothing else. Had you retreated the first time, none of this would have happened.” she spoke with utter disappointment.

“Do you know why I am where I am, boy?” she let that question linger in the air, “I have survived as many wars as you have years in your life, and I will survive many more. These halls, dark as they may be, will not kill me. And neither will you.” She walked slowly towards her Guardsman who was now standing with the rest of the students and keeping them away from the fight, gripping her thigh as she did. Clearly the whole ordeal opened her wound again.

Suddenly she turned to Revs again, her eyes reflecting a hint of shame, “Come find me when you recover, boy. I will teach you many great things, should you choose to follow another path… May the Force be with you.” She said her final words and walked out of the library, ready to report the damages and answer to the Headmaster. It was going to be a long evening.

Revs could hear his heart pounding in his chest as he sat perched atop the bookcase, waiting for the chance to finish his contract. In all honesty, the Assassin had no qualms against the Jedi. The amount of credits offered for Vyr's head was just too good of a deal to pass up. He just hoped that this would not have any horrible drawbacks. The Knight rather enjoyed having his head on his shoulders.

Stretching out through the Force, the Miraluka could feel the presence of his mark laying beneath the pile of books. Revs stayed completely still, not allowing a muscle to twitch. Then he saw it, or more heard, the shuffling of books as the Neti started to push the books off of herself.

The Assassin adjusted his grip on his lightsaber while focusing on where he thought the Guardian Peacekeeper would emerge. This would be it. One quick, clean strike and his target would be dead. Killing a member of the Dark Council would not only mean a nice pile of credits, but it would guarantee his place among Arcona's legendary Assassins.

Vyr pushed her way into the opening, still holding her lightsaber in her right hand. Revs ignited his own lightsaber as he jumped down from the bookshelf. He swung the emerald blade in a wide arc, intending to cut his opponent in half. As usual, things never went as he had intended.

The Herald must have sensed him through the Force, for she managed to turn on her uninjured leg and parry Revs blow at the last second. Making her left hand into a fist, Vyr delivered a Force enhanced punch to her would be Assassin's ribs. The Miraluka could feel some of his ribs break as he flew backwards and into another bookcase. As he groaned through the pain of simply sitting up from the floor, Revs became aware of additional footsteps he had almost forgotten about.

"There they are! Get the Jedi!" The approaching Sith could be heard screaming. Revs winced as a sharp pain spread throughout his chest when he stood up. Looking over at his mark, it was obvious that she wasn't in much better condition. The Miralika even thought that he could sense a feeling of sumber sarrow coming from the Jedi as the mob of Sith surrounded the pair.

Revs listened to the crowd scream. They were ready for the Herald's death. Listening to the horrible things that the mob were threatening to do to the Neti woman, the Assassin actually felt pity for her.

"Stop!" The young Miraluka screamed. "I started this, and none of you slimy Hutts will take my kill!"

The crowd grew silent at his demand. Trying his best to ignore the pain in his chest, Revs stepped forward toward his opponent.

"Really, I am sorry for this. Maybe if things were different we could have gone out for drinks or something, but business is business," the Arconan said sadly as he lifted his blade.

"I understand, but I have no intention to lay down and die," the Jedi stated as she calmly raised her lightsaber to meet Revs.

A smile broke across the Miraluka's face. He didn't need to respond to say anything. Starting the final round of their match, Revs was glad that he had gotten to fight such a skilled opponent. The young Knight started the bout by sliding his blade down his opponents, attempting to gain leverage on her lightsaber. The Equite was quick to respond by swinging her blade around, trying to cut the Miralukas legs. Revs managed to parry the attack despite the way his injuries impeded his movement. He used the momentum of the block to counter, by stabbing at the Neti's head. She swept her blade up to block the Assassin, and instantly countered with slash to his chest. Revs good a half step back, avoiding the attack and countered with a lunge for Vyr's chest. His blade was pushed aside as the Neti stepped in for a riposte.

The two continued in this dance of attack, block, and counter for how long Revs was unsure. But the pain in his chest made it feel like hours. His clothes were drenched in sweat. Every breath brought a burning sensation to his chest. He feared that he could not keep the fight going much longer.

He knew one wrong move could cost him his life. Finally Vyr's stamina gave out, and she dropped the blade of her lightsaber too low. Taking advantage of the opening Revs used the Force to amplify his speed and jabbed his blade into the Heralds chest. The lightsaber must have cut through the Neti's heart, as soon as her body went limp she was dead. Bending down, Revs gathered samples of his marks bark like skin, and lightsaber as proof of his kill. The Assassin turned to face the mob of Sith Around him. The crowd stood silent, and started to clear the way for the Arconan to leave. Revs pushed through the pain and limped back to the drop for the contract, he wondered if this fight had ever been worth it.