On the fringes of the Outer Rim territories and famous as the one-time location of the Rebel Alliance, Hoth is a frigid world marred with fissures created from the tidal pull of Hoth’s three moons. Blanketed in a frozen ocean, massive oceanic currents beneath the southern hemisphere are the cause of constant seismic activities that result in a constantly shifting landscape of tunnels and caves.

Buried into the side of a fissure reaching hundreds of meters into the core of the planet is a network of tunnels leading into a cave. Its sole entrance is suspended within the wall of the fissure, requiring one to rappel down the dangerous crevasse and into the tunnels; one small miscalculation could send explorers descending the rest of the unmeasured height deep within the planet’s core.

Insulated under several hundred meters of ice in all directions, the cave is protected against the gale force winds and the intense snowstorms that sweep along the planet’s surface. As a result, the cave is warmer than most of Hoth’s unforgiving cold with melting icicles dangling precariously overhead. In turn, this allows for more life to grow in addition to being a promising habitat for the hulking Wampas that have been trapped this far below the surface. Beginning to thaw, it is obvious that this cave will eventually fall victim to seismic activity to disappear into the sheets of ice that surround it. Illuminating the cave’s interior with a dull blue glow, a luminous form of lichen has taken up residence among the bones of the creatures unfortunate enough to be trapped here.

Caution must be exercised if one is to navigate the slippery slopes of the cave as melted icicles drip onto the cavern’s floor surface. In one corner of the cave, the ocean water has accumulated to form a large pool, providing sustenance to the rare lumni-spice growing within the crystalline complex, never to see the blue-white sun.

A brisk blizzard breeze played against the body of a long dead Wampa, the snowflakes trickling down in tandem as they covered it’s frosty bones. Two figures stood at opposing sides; one high up in the entrance to the cave, its opening caused only by the shifting of sheet ice. The cave proper was below, being a hundred or so meters down from the entrance itself. The other occupant stood beneath, facing forward. Both took a moment as they observed each other silently.

The cavern, however, was not quite as quiet as it’s inhabitants. The volcanic nature of Hoth was a humming voice that vibrated through the ice and rock - like a siren, the cave beckoned those brave enough to face its dangers.

Their dark cloaks were cowled tightly about them - though neither shivered, the Force a constant pulse that kept them warm. The man below lifted his head to regard his opponent, the hood of his cloak falling back to reveal a bob of dark hair and hazel eyes. His brows furrowed as he showed a smirk.

He spat onto the ice, “Krath.”

Although an unimaginative insult, Mks found himself flexing in response. Instead of responding, he cocked his head ever so slightly to the side, holding it long enough for the Human’s expression to change. The Human’s eyes narrowed as he shifted his weight.

“Well, what’s keeping you? Your cowardice or your fear of heights?”

To any ordinary being, it looked like a very awkward scenario, however Mks couldn’t actually see the ordinary - nor had he ever been able to. Instead, when he looked at another being he saw movement. Emotions could take so many shapes, sizes, colours and markings that a Miraluka had only to pay attention to them to understand someone’s feelings. Normally, it would be a useless talent in a community of Miraluka - sober minded and deliberative, they rarely gave anything away. But bring in a species less than stable and all bets were off. The Krath may as well have been given an instruction manual titled ‘People’.

The way the Obelisk’s emotions played in the frozen air was comforting to a degree, given the circumstances, and Mks far preferred it over isolation. A low chuckle rumbled from the back of his throat as he gauged the distance between the entrance and the cave below.

“Cowardice, eh? That’s a stretch,” his hooded head lowered, “Though I suppose I am anxious to get down from here.”

He was fully aware that the moment he touched the floor of the cave, the fight would start immediately. Of course, it seemed better not to go down at all, but his opponent was a Jedi and such basic advantages as terrain would eventually be overcome by the Force. Mks flexed his fingers to work some of the cold out, his body temperature no longer under his control.

His left hand moved quietly to find a hidden pocket with a throwing blade inside - and stepped off, the Force absorbing the shock of his landing. The knife slid out from his cloak with speed and he felt a thrill as he watched it fly precisely towards the Human’s legs. Instinctively, the Obelisk jumped, the knife pinging somewhere in the blue-lit ice - but that was exactly what the Arconan was hoping for.

As soon as Bentre leapt upward, Mks lunged, the barrel of his FWG-5 emerging from his cloak and releasing its first cartridge. Before the flechettes had time to disperse, the Obelisk was already moving, his left hand pulling out his blaster. Darts shredded a wall of thick ice as the Sadowian rolled to the side. In half a breath, blaster bolts had already sunk into the ice on either side of the Krath, vapour in the air as they superheated chunks of the wall instantaneously.

Both Clansmen took cover from the opposing fire; the Sadowian taking cover behind a small collection of icy pillars as the Arconan let the momentum of his lunge carry him against the ice behind some stalagmites.

“You know,” Bentre had to stifle back a laugh in spite of himself. “I have to admit, I am kind of impressed in a way. It hasn’t been all too often I have had an opponent, Krath or otherwise, who had the mind to carry a sidearm.” The Corellian shook his head, glancing around around the side of the icy pillar he had taken cover behind. “Too many of you lot prefer to run around with just a lightsaber. It makes them easier to pick off with a blaster.”

I wonder how many rounds he has for the slugthrower, though.

“You do have a lot of spunk for a Krath though. I mean, so many of you spend all that time in study. I am glad that some of you like to have a bit of fun.” The Obelisk smiled as he heard movement from beyond the pillar. Poking his arm out, he let loose a few shots with his blaster. The movements stopped though. “So you are made of better stuff than I had expected. I just hope that you can keep up with me though.”

To to punctuate his words, the Journeyman ignited his lightsaber. The blue light reflected off the ice, bathing the ground in an eerily somber light. The lichen seemed to glow dully compared to the energy of the lightsaber.

“Is this what we are going to do then?” the Human let out a forced laugh. “We are going to just stand around and wait for the other one to make his move?” There was a quiet scratching on the ice nearby. “What even brings you out this way? I mean, here I was minding my own business. Here I see a cave, I figure it might end up a bit interesting to check it out. Wouldn’t you figure I would find a Krath here? What pursuit of knowledge would drag you onto this ice ball? I mean I nearly froze to death the last time I got stuck here. I came back to prove my mettle.”

“Do you ever shut up?” The voice of Mks piped from somewhere to his left.

“The hell a-” the words were cut short however as Stahoes felt his feet slipping. He felt as though a fist had been planted in his chest and he was shoved backward without care. The Assassin’s eyes widened. He had been so busy talking he had let his attention slip.

The realization sunk in just about the time that his knee hit the ice hard. Thankfully, muscle memory took over and the Corellian managed to roll off from the impact, and back to his feet roughly. As the Journeyman slipped his weight from foot to foot, he felt a pang of pain in his knee. That would slow him down a bit.

It did not take the Obelisk long to see where his opponent had gotten off to. He had seen the Miraluka just in time. There was just enough time to dive off to the side before he found flechette rounds in his torso.

“So that is how it is, then?” Bentre tried to keep talking. He had to keep the appearance of ease, even while he was a measure of pain. Sometimes it was all one could do to prevent looking weak. He took a moment to reach out in the Force. He had to gather something about the hooded figure. Surely there had to be something he could sense about him. The crunch of footsteps upon the ice broke his concentration however. Instinct took over, and the Assassin dived off to the left, trying to keep himself moving.

“You run a lot for somebody who talks so big.” Mks’s words echoed in the cave a bit.

“You depend a lot on your firearm, buddy. So it looks like both of us are a bit of a disappointment, huh? Do you Krath even know how to use a lightsaber?”

The words hung in the air for a moment. There was a familar snap-hiss and a pale light began to emanate from beyond the pillar. The Sadowan paused for a moment unsure of how to proceed. He had not expected that prodding to be of effect.

“Come on then, Obelisk. Prove your mettle.” Ehn’s words were even, and his tone completely serious. Without hesitation Bentre stepped out from behind the pillar, holding his lightsaber at the ready. His step was not entirely even but he tried to project a sense of calm and collection.

His mind quickly took in a few things. One brought a large and genuine smile to the Knight’s face. The stance was all too familiar. Stahoes had spent enough time in practice and self-training with the form, he could recognize it easily. It looked like this was going to be very interesting. The Corellian gave his blade a slight flourish, and held his lightsaber confidently now as he waited for his opponent to step into closer range.

“Gladly.”

Beneath his hood, the Krath smiled happily. It was only after a single step towards his opponent he was stopped by a familiar voice.

Efficiency above flourish, worm. Don’t play with your food.

The familiar hum of his saber woke dark urges that began to purr inside him, stretching distractedly from a deep sleep. He felt a light tingling on the back of his neck as he toyed with the idea of a battle finished with sabers, but the outcome of such an urge would likely be a loss. And yet, it felt so light in his hand, his muscles prepared by the seemingly endless revision beneath his Master’s watchful eye. It still felt like a toy. The feeling of the gentle resistance as he moved it sent shivers up his spine, the shape of it reminiscent of his days fighting the other boys with sticks. All of it was just a game to see who would win. It was a habit too difficult to break, and as soon as Mks had the confidence to see every duel as a competition, it was impossible to convince him otherwise. With every connection his saber made with another his heart pumped a little faster, his concentration evaporating little by little until all he wanted to do was win. Whole wings of training floors had been ruined by the Miraluka’s stubborn need to win with a saber, causing him to draw out spars for as long as he could.

Just thinking about it made him salivate.

He had enough time to think of a plan but found himself drawing away from the more concrete steps of tactics, opting instead to let his imagination colour them with extra violence. He just wanted to play. And then the next few steps popped into his mind.

“Let’s play a game.”

The Force bellowed within Mks’ arms as he slashed into the ice below and swung it upwards. He let the momentum swing him forward and soon the Force swelled within his legs and propelled him at his maximum speed.

Through the water and thick vapours, it was only through supernatural means that warned Bentre Stahoes. It screamed at him like a helpless mother and he immediately took a defensive position - but just a little too late. A huge, dark shape split the haze as a beam of white light sliced into dazzling view to crash against its blue obverse. The Obelisk guarded perfectly but the sheer force behind the swing sent him backward, leaving his arms extended and his left side fully open for a second too long. The moment encouraged heightened awareness, and Bentre found himself watching the dark shape grow closer still, his eyes focused on the face beneath the dark hood as it was pulled back by the rushing air. The saber’s light illuminated the dark eyes of the Miraluka. Like two pools of black glistened in a face suffused with childlike joy. The Sith’s eyes balked as they fixed themselves to the white blade, but the Force had more pressing concerns. It sang a note of urgency as a pale hand slid out from the dark robe across the Sadowan’s eyeline and gently touched his extended elbow. Telekinetic energy surged from the Krath’s fingertips.

“Tag, you’re it.”

An aftershock led the Human to the ground where he sat blinking at his left arm - which for some reason wasn’t working. There had been a distinct popping sound and an impact that shook through his elbow and into his ribs. Then the pain hit the Journeyman and he let himself scream for a few seconds before numbing it with a supernatural will. His instincts screamed at him to stand and he did so with speed, clenching his jaw at every movement of his arm. Every reasoning part of him as its master abdicated quickly.

The Krath stood openly, hood and cloak pulled back to reveal a youthful face and body, tall yet thin. His silvery saber flicked downward to point at the ground with a single hand - a mark of disrespect among pupils of Shii-Cho. Mks looked at his saber as the Human’s face was overcome with anger.

Filth! Sithspit! I’ll kill you for this! You fight dirty to overcome my strength - because you are weak!

The loss of an arm was a harsh blow to his art - Shii-Cho used the strength of both arms to fully employ devastatingly straightforward strikes - but regardless, the sarlacc’s way would not be stopped so easily. The Sadowan had absorbed everything he could about his form, practicing, perfecting - it was known as the Determination Form for good reason.

The Force flared within him for a moment as he stared down his long-haired opponent, whose arrogant smile deflated a little. Bentre leapt forward with great speed and disappeared. The dim light of the Force that gave Mks his vision smeared the fast moving body, his senses strengthening just in time to guard the first strike of a vicious onslaught.

The Human fought with an intensity that complimented his species. Every strike was tapered to batter away the Priest’s saber whilst giving him time to advance and keep the Miraluka on his back foot. Mks stayed expressionless the whole time, meeting his opponent’s ferocity as best he could. Truthfully, he had never once felt bloodlust in his short reanimated life, however adrenaline was certainly a friend. It was the fuel that pushed the game forward. Bentre pushed forward three paces, an impressive tower of ice suddenly behind the Priest.

The Sadowan feinted for the Krath’s head but swept his saber down with supernal skill in an attempt to take a leg, instead taking a few layers of cloth and skin as it was avoided. The eyeless man narrowly avoided being cornered and passed right by, tapping his opponent’s broken arm.

“Limber, aren’t you.”

He hissed it through gritted teeth, taking the time to catch his breath.

Mks smiled openly, “Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

Bentre made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, his face turning a shade of purple, “This is not a game!”

“Hey!” The Miraluka almost barked, his brow furrowed deeply against the expressionless discs where his eyes should have been, “indoor voice.”

That was when the Human snapped, his leg injury forgotten. Pride reared its ugly head to snatch at his reason.

“Enough.”

A faint red light began to emanate from his face, each line of his grimace thickened into a deep vermillion war mask.

The strike appeared almost like a gesture as his saber made an ascending cut through the thick ice pillar. It slid away fairly quickly with a hiss, falling in the Krath’s general direction. Before it had even hit the ground, Bentre was already jumping from it to give some lift to an overhead strike. The blades met, but the sheer force of their collision knocked the Arconan to the side. A feeling of victory came over the Human - until his legs met with the ice below. What should have been a landing and retaliation became an exercise in self-restraint. The pain in his leg multiplied until all his body could do was scream at him. He struggled to stay upright reliably - thankfully the pillar had landed too close to the Krath for him to ignore it and forced the Arconan to retreat some distance away.

Bentre’s chest was already burning, a headache pounding away as a constant reminder of the pain he was trying to conceal and control. The probable outcome stung in his mind but he could not bring himself to stop. It was the grinning that held him back. Honest, open smiling that had no place in a frozen graveyard nevermind the Brotherhood itself. It did not even appear to be the kind of unhinged smiling one would expect of a Dark Jedi; it was a smile that held no doubt or seriousness, just fun.

The Obelisk hated that smile. It pissed on everything he had ever feared, ever worked tirelessly to prevent. And it had to be stopped.

“So, I guess it’s come to this.”

The smile faded on the long-haired man’s face, “ I suppose it has. Scared? Relieved? It’s hard to tell, right?”

“Oh, so the rumours were true. Miraluka can see emotions. Any other party tricks to show me before we’re done?”

Mks sighed dramatically, “You’re so easy to read. Frightened like a baby Wampa. Well, you played a mean trick and got punished. I see no reason to take your life, I mean, I came down here to help. Remember? The little distress beacon you left for someone to follow? Hm? Suddenly quiet, are we?”

The Sadowan gave no reply, but his expression showed his guilt - and then the voices came. It took but a moment for them to grasp him, his eyes focusing on the Arconan’s blue-lit figure. But something began to blur them as the urge to madness took him.

Tear. Rip. Eat.

Take him, hurt him, take off his head, bring us more, burn the remains.

Cut. Slice. Burn. Shred. Peel. Taste.

And then a single voice burned across the others, the very presence of it causing him to literally see red with every syllable:

DoNt LEt HiM LeAVe HeRE AlIVE!

Bentre’s vision became clear. The second that it took for the madness to take him was like an eternity. An eternity of unlearning. His stance rose out of a defensive position casually, his eyes a fraction of an inch wider than they should have been - and he threw his saber. There was no flourish in his action; he merely leant into an overhand throw and let go.

The saber spun towards the Priest with a dangerous hum and he avoided it amidst a force-authored scream to be aware. He only saw the true danger as it sank into his abdomen. Mks had only a few seconds to observe the still vibroknife in his abdomen before movement attracted his instincts.

The Sith aimed his blaster with a horrific grin plastered across his face, barely an inch of sanity left as he prepared his shaking arm. The Miraluka raised a hand reflexively and the Force rushed towards the Human, pushing him backward a few meters and into the pool of crystalline water. After the first splash there was very little sound - and then suddenly a torrent of frothing water shook from the surface, the Sadowan’s head gasping for a few moments before disappearing again.

Mks reacted, an anxious expression on his face. He cradled his wound and shouted, “I can’t swim!”

There was no reply. The Arconan watched for a moment before finally chewing his lip, “Damn.”

With one hand gingerly holding the static knife, he used the other to activate a small hidden button on the collar of his cloak, a rapid beeping indicating that it was active. He sniffed and the air smelt distastefully sweaty. He picked a corner and sat down.

“I wonder if I’ll survive,” he mused thoughtfully.

Mks did not step into the fray immediately as the Knight had hoped. Instead, his head turned slightly as though he were watching the Corellian. As he began to step forward, there was a determination in each step. Stahoes barely managed to bring his own lightsaber up to block the first blow. White and blue blades met with a sparking crash.

The Shadow tried to hold his ground though. He held his weapon hard against his opponents. As he glanced at the hooded Arconan, the light from the locked weapons cast a glow on eyes as black as midnight. The Krath’s mouth was twisted into a ravenous grin as he held his ground.

He enjoys this, the realization was beginning to sink in. I don’t get too many opponents like that. Maybe our little scrap will not go as quickly as I had originally feared. He’s got some spunk.

Almost as though in response, Mks slid his lightsaber sideways, turning the beam around at an angle. The Sadowan had to step sideways to prevent getting caught on the swing, but before he could do much else the Arconan was nearly on top of him again, bringing his weapon around in a wide and powerful swing. Bentre couldn’t resist smiling a bit as he met his opponent blow for blow.

“I wish that half my opponents fought with half of your energy.” The Shadow chuckled as he disengaged.

“You may not wish it by the time we are finished.” The Miraluka spoke the words with the slightest of growls. Stepping back into range with Stahoes, Ehn brought his weapon down in a savage strike. Bentre brought his own weapon to bear, managing to deflect the white blade in his retreat.

“This isn’t how I am used to doing this,” he grunted. There is not much use in running in this fight, he realized. I am going to have to try and push the offensive.

Moving forward, he tried to bring his weapon around in a wide swing. Mks closed the gap and stopped Stahoes’s swing. As the two pulled back, they brought their weapons around again, meeting evenly between the two of them. As Bentre tried to bring his swing around again, the Equite brought his weapon around in a tight twist, driving his weapon down on the casing of the Journeyman’s weapon.

The Sadowan had not expected this move. The force of the blow caused the weapon to slip from his fingers. As Bentre lowered his hand to catch his lightsaber, the Krath placed a hand on his chest. The Corellian felt as though a cudgel had been driven into his torso as he thrown backward.

There was no time to react. As the Sadowan hit the ground, the Arconan thrust out his arm, launching two knives. As the projectiles hit their mark, Bentre could feel his flesh giving to the blades. Though his fingers grasped around the throwing knives in his side, the Shadow did little more. The pain was a little more intense than he had expected. No wonder Tasha’vel held their little fight in the library against him for so long.

“So no more quips? No more smart words?” The Miraluka spoke softly. There was a slight taunt in his tone.

“I-” Bentre drew a breath, trying to steady himself. “I like to talk sure-” He grunted as he rolled over to prop himself up with one arm. “I have to say that this has been-” He smiled at his opponent, with a slight sparkle of amusement in his eyes. “This is has been pretty fun. I have fought a lot of people in my time. You are certainly one of the better ones.”

“I hope it was all worth it.” Mks strode over, bringing his weapon down to bear on the Corellian.

Drawing on the Force, Bentre tried to focus. He might have one last chance to avoid certain death. With all his might, the Human pushed off the ground, his muscles augmented by the Force which flowed through him. The lightsaber’s beam scarcely missed its intended target. The Human drove his leg up in a haphazard kick, which caused the surprised Miraluka to slip to one knee.

“Insolent dog.” The Krath drove the palm of his free hand into the Sadowan’s face. Succumbing to the pain and the rigors of the battle, Bentre felt his grip on consciousness slip.

Its over. Looks like I gambled, and I lost. Bentre chuckled inwardly as his world became dark.