Seated within the Glorious Jewel of the Hutts, the Winter Palace is situated on a remote island near the planet’s equator. Although blanketed with the pollution from Hutt industry, its location makes the climate hot and humid. Surrounded with trees and vines, it could be considered to be a paradise, even among the barren wasteland of Nal Hutta. Outside of the Winter Palace, a network of sewer pipes transfer the waste from the palace to wherever seems far enough to dump into the oceans surrounding the island. Flora and fauna that have adapted to the Hutt’s environmental changes thrive in the polluted forests surrounding the Winter Palace.

Stepping through its gilded gates, the lavish interior greets your presence with the main audience chamber. Once belonging to the wealth of Jiliac Desilijic Tiron, the gleaming stone of the main aisle leads up to a Hutt’s dais lined with an expensive carpet. Beautiful tapestries line the high walls, telling of the sordid histories of those who woven them, awaiting execution in Jiliac’s dungeons.

Finally, the antechamber to the throne room is illuminated from above with high-skylighted ceilings. Constructed from lightly colored stone, the antechamber might have been where the late Hutt entertained his guests before an audience with spice and exotic dancers. In the hands of the Hutt Kajidics, however, these traditions have continued as the Winter Palace now serves as a front for criminal and business ventures.

An awkward silence fell on the antechamber as Vorsa and her…‘acquaintance’ waited patiently for an audience with the Hutts. A sort of sweet yet somehow disgusting smell perfumed the air and stuck to her clothing. Vorsa cursed mentally, the idea of cleaning the stench from her person all too disturbing. The Chiss stood almost at attention, not paying her much heed or even moving. Military discipline. Of course it would show through.

The doors swung open on well oiled hinges, revealing a lavish and rather large throne room. The duo moved in tandem, passing through the glam and glitter, hungry eyes never leaving their forms, malicious tongues always talking, always gossiping. The Herald observed them, taking in their auras, sensing their minds. Many species of many professions gathered around the Hutts — all criminals.

Dancers pirouetted around them like animatronic dolls, their faces smiling but dead inside. Vorsa’s gut tightened, sensing perpetual malice within each and every one of them. Fear, agony and ecstasy mixed into a revolting concoction that made her innards churn. If she had had a stomach, it would've clenched sickly. She couldn’t sympathize — they did choose this life for themselves — but she could pity the wretches.

They stopped before a large floating throne with a large, slimy, smelly Hutt astride it. He chewed on some type of snack or another with gluttonous glee, eyes constantly darting across Vorsa’s athletic form.

“Achute dauah. Jee nah bmeheka wamma che uba,” he spoke as slime and drool drizzled around his mouth, a foul stench of rot and decay spreading from it.

“Uh, the ever illustrious Achonda the Hutt, greets you fondly and wishes you to be his guests,” one of the Twi’lek slaves muttered in a barely audible voice. He was scared beyond words. Vorsa could sense it as clearly as the Hutt’s intent.

“Cakanle Achonda!” Brimstone started first, in Achonda’s native Huttese, taking advantage of Vorsa’s distracted pondering. “Dobra wata bai bargon cay uba um baw wah sokie uba gee vehpobaee wa paupe bahkawopka mee murishani gee boonowa.”

Vorsa couldn’t understand a word he was saying, which troubled her greatly. She focused on the Twi’lek slave, slowly shifting her fingers as subtly as she could. “You there. Translate.”

Snapping his head up at her as if under a trance, the Twi’lek began to speak in a more even tone, “Mighty Achonda. I am here to bargain with you for the data you have about a certain artifact your bounty hunters have found.” As he finished, one of the guards yanked on his neck chain and pulled him off of the platform.

The man squealed as he was dragged and beaten with shock batons and boots in equal measure. Vorsa bit down on her lip, cursing herself for not thinking. It took all of her resolve just to stand there and watch the man get beaten. But the mission was of greater importance. Sith threatened millions of lives — she would not fail. The artifact the Chiss spoke of was a map to several important holocron locations, or so it was thought. She had come to Hutta to retrieve it before the Grand Master, but apparently he had already sent his own agent.

Brimstone observed her with a glare of contempt and annoyance. She ignored him and took a step closer. “Mighty Achonda. I too am looking for this artifact. Should you be willing to trade, I will be willing to bargain for its retrieval.”

“Do not fall for her tricks, mighty Achonda. She will fool you and take what she wants.”

Achonda laughed heartily, the whole chamber following suit. “Dobra Achonda. Taneee beesga mi. Kuna kee dokoi um baw wah bahkawopka,” he rumbled as a second slave came closer to try and translate his words.

“Mighty Achomba, may the stars protect him, does not agree with you, and he will prove it.” She swallowed as she looked at the Twi’lek slave now being dragged out of the room, bloody and beaten. “He says you will fight for the artifact.”

“Jeedai dokoi che mi. Baciya!” Achonda rumbled again over the laughing.

A saber came to life with a shrill as Vorsa’s senses picked up the subtle cues of danger. Brimstone was already moving. Blasters drawn, the Chiss pulled the triggers just as she raised her blade to deflect. Red bolts of plasma ricocheted off of the lightsaber. The Neti angled the shots towards the ceiling, away from the onlookers. She jumped back, somersaulting over the bolts with elegance and grace. Deflecting bolt after bolt, she dodged and spun around the room, partons ducking for cover as Brimstone’s blasters spewed plasmic death around them.

“Youkesa!” Achonda yelled out as three armed guards surrounded the Chiss, blasters aimed at his head.

“The mighty Achonda wished for you to battle with your laser swords,” the terrified slave spoke out when his chain was yanked.

Vorsa remained standing, firmly rooting herself on the floor, ready to charge her attacker. Brimstone replaced his blasters in their holsters and drew his saber hilt, igniting the blade with a snap-hiss as the guards retreated.

Vorsa charged, speed augmented by the Force’s ethereal touch. She closed the distance in a blink of an eye, slashing through the air at Brimstone’s head.

• Achute dauah. Jee nah bmeheka wamma che uba. - Hello pretty. I wouldn't mind paying for you.
• Dobra Achonda. Taneee beesga mi. - I am Achonda. No one fools me.
• Jeedai dokoi che mi. Baciya. - Jedi fighting for me. Amusing.
• Youkesa - Stop!

Brimstone ducked in time as he sensed the Vapaad-style slash at his head. The swing missed it's intended target, which was enough time, for Brimstone to grab out at the wrist of V'yr and using his Carinor training, hurled her off balanced and into one of the wall pillars.

"Herald, you are getting old for your age I see" retorted the Chiss as he spun around into a defensive stance.

Vorsa pushed herself away from the wall and turned around to face the Plagueian. "Not old enough to be undermined by the whelp of a Sith." She attacked immediately and in an instance, they were both deflecting and parrying each other's offensive assault. The visual of the ensuing battle brought up a roar of cheers from the crowd including the Hutt. They could neither gain ground on each other that after what seems like eternity, was over in mere seconds as they came to a passe. "I see you are well trained in Vapaad too, Brim" spoke the Herald.

"I had always wanted to try a Dark Counsel in combat to see if I could measure up to them" smiled the Chiss in his retort.

Brimstone then turned off his lightsaber, which surprised V'yr, and replaced it back into its hidden pocket up his uniform jacket sleeve. He then looked over at the Hutt "Hee, wohot tah pankankeu uba an mee baewa che wa cohou?"

Achonda laughed out loud. "Tagwa, fa kolka mi. Dan bmahh doth tytung fa doth. Uba banag bahkawopka, Jee cah kaa du moova mee."

V'yr looked at the Chiss as she still held her blade, turning it off when she sensed that she wasn't going to get attacked. "What did he say?"

"He wants us to do him a favor for the whereabouts of the holocrons" he replied.

V'yr put the lightsaber back where she had it. "And what is it that you want from us?" she asked.

*"Jee banag bu kloonkee dee bo da moocha doi mi wa kouciukoee bacogna bankop. Jee banag Kardash baa kloonkee"*replied the Hutt.

Brimstone nodded with his head. "Consider it done. I expect payment of location immediately."

The two Brotherhood members then made their way out the Hutt's presence and headed to the outside. "So what's the mission?" asked Vorsa.

"we need to find a thief by the name of Kardash. He wants his head."

• Hee, wohot tah pankankeu uba an mee baewa che wa cohou? «So, does this satisfy you and your thirst for a show?»
• Tagwa, fa kolka mi. Dan bmahh doth tytung fa doth. Uba banag bahkawopka, Jee cah kaa du moova mee. «Yes, it pleases me. Good sport is all it was. You want artifacts, I request something in return.»
• Jee banag bu kloonkee dee bo da moocha doi mi wa kouciukoee bacogna bankop. Jee banag Kardash baa kloonkee. «I want the head of the one that stole from me a few weeks ago. I want Kardash's head.»

They had searched for hours and hours, checking every low-down, dirty heap of scum-ridden hideouts they could. Several brawls and outright gang wars later they found themselves in the palace again. This time, however, they were in a quite less dignified place. The lower levels stank of sewage and rot more than the worst Coruscanti underlevel. Dead creatures floated in the putrid, dirty waters which flowed from the palace into the pipes and off towards the horizon.

Vorsa could barely contain her disgust. Had she a proper stomach it might have squeezed and hurled. Next to her the Chiss seemed to pass through the same uncomfortable sensations, as swallowing every so often and breathing through his mouth to avoid the smell. They had passed well into the palace by then, and still the thief was nowhere to be found.

“I thought this Kardash was supposed to be near the entrance in some kind of alcove,” Vorsa hissed through her teeth, clearly annoyed at the turn of events.

“Apparently they lied,” Brimstone replied with yet another swallow. He was clearly getting sick from the stench and rot. Just as he was about the stop and rest for a moment, they saw the alcove they wanted, and in it a small heater lamp burning away merrily. Vorsa elbowed the Chiss lightly and pointed in the alcove’s direction, holding a finger to her lips. She pointed and gestured with her hand, clearly wanting to explain a plan of action. The Chiss simply looked at her, dumbfounded. He clearly didn’t understand even the basics of tactical movement and signaling.

Vorsa sighed and spoke in hushed whispers. “You take them from this side, and I will circle around and attack their flank and otherwise block their escape, understood?”

Brimstone simply nodded as the Neti moved further down one of the other corridors that diverged from their position into three directions. He himself exited the same tunnel through another passage, taking him closer to the alcove. The Chiss found himself in a huge open space with a river of goo and sludge trailing slowly underneath. It stank no less than the rest of the palace, and was dark enough for one to go unnoticed.

He could clearly see the several aliens gathered around a small heater, chatting. He readied himself for the inevitable and hid in the shadows of one of the massive pillars.

Vorsa approached the alcove from the opposite side. She saw the aliens chattering and closed in slowly. She could sense Brimstone in the vicinity, but couldn’t pinpoint his exact location. She wondered if he was even in position by now.

The General took several long steps forward, towards the alcove. She rounded a massive pillar and hid in the shadows behind one of the walls overlooking the small group inside. All Rodian, all raggedy from head to toe. ’Our target is a Rodian,’ she thought, trying to clear her mind from all the stench around her. She would have to properly wash her armor after this. She hated cleaning her armor.

A ping in the Force was the only warning she had to the barrage of blaster fire coming her way. Her lightsaber flashed to life with a flick of the wrist, deflecting the three bolts aimed at her. Another barrage came immediately and she ducked behind the pillar to avoid it.

The assailant shot from the opposite side of the chamber. ’Brimstone? Treacherous scum.’ Why she expected anything else from a Sith, she would never know. She rushed towards the edge of the alcove where the aliens had already turned tail and escaped into the multitude of tunnels.

Another barrage showered her position before she rushed again, criss-crossing the space between the alcove and the opposite pillar. Rapid fire shots from Brimstone’s position peppered the Herald as she made an effort to block the incoming shots. She deflected five, but the sixth caught her in the leg and she tumbled forwards, ducking into cover behind one of the opposite pillars.

She was now very close to the Sith, yet wounded. Everything inside her yelled out to escape, but she had a mission to complete, and no one would stand in her way. ’This will be a hard fought battle,’ she thought as her wound slowly, ever so slowly, began to heal.

The Chiss hadn't missed. Watching and counting his shots, he got the Jedi with the sixth direct, yet arrant, hit. He watched her lumber gracefully with her blade as he fired along the intended path. While she took coverage in the foliage of sewage pipes, she was still advancing. Being a Jedi, was her job to destroy the Sith. But being a Herald, was her job to work with them likewise. A conundrum was in her pride. Over 300 years she had lived and had seen it all. The Galactic Republic. The Clone Wars. The Empire. The Rise of the Brotherhood. All of it under her watchful eyes.

But she didn't see it coming when one of the Brotherhood had her dead to rights and laid the foundation of the trap she had been snared within. The Chiss was one of reputation for Honor and he coaxed and goaded her into the trap. "So much for Honor" she mused to herself and she ducked behind another pipe, tending to another hit she sustained in her advancement.

Brimstone had done his job. He was here for only one reason. To kill or remove the Jedi. In the Brotherhood, the Sith had prevailed and proven that even the Obelisk and the Krath were no match to the sheer numbers and overwhelming odds the Sith commanded. The last of the pecking order was the Jedi. The "lighty" side of the force was being a thorn to the Brotherhood. And he knew his loyalty and Honor was being tested.

Unfortunately, that involved him breaking Honor to his Herald and obeying his Honor to the di Plagia, who controlled many of the Dark Council's posts. Brimstone knew, to gain favor of of the Dark Council, specifically the di Plagia, he had to do as commanded and teach the Jedi who was really in charge.

V'yr could sense that the Chiss was conflicted in his assault. Something was troubling him. "I know you can hear me Brim. Let go that which controls you. Release your clouded mind and regain your Honor that you pride yourself to possess" she bantered, trying to play on his emotions.

More shots rang her direction. "I am doing it for Honor and my Lords who command me to this task and assignment. You have not idea how much it costs to destroy one's self to reclaim one's Honor that was ceremoniously stripped away" bellowed the Plagueian.

The Herald decided instead of killing the unfortunate Chiss, she was going to disarm him and take him back to his clan as a token of their failure. Leaping after the timed volleys she been watching and tracing, she got within a hair's breath of the Chiss and lashed out at him with her lightsaber, blazing a crimson swath of destruction, and catching both of his Charric blasters, slicing them in halves.

Before she could bring back the blade for a dismemberment strike, Brimstone dropped the charred hilts of his blasters, and quickly "escaped" his own blade, igniting it in the process, and deflecting the "kill shot" that was aimed for him. He threw his hand up and kinetically shoved her hard and backwards. This gave him enough time to go on the offense and attack in the Vaapad style he had trained hard for.

Back and for they struck at each other, trying to one up the other's defenses and get the better of this stalemate.

Just as Brimstone, with blade in his right hand, went for an spinning back slash, V'yr caught him perfectly, and sliced cleanly though his weapon-held hand and severed his clutches at the wrist. Blood sprayed all over the the former Admiral's uniform, staining it as he dropped down to the ground, clutching his mangled stump.

With her weapon pointing at the Chiss' head, V'yr calmly let him know the battle was done. "You fought well and superbly, but alas, the Sith always lose in the end. It is fate."

"Fate this!" muttered Brimstone as he called his lightsaber to his left hand, and with a violent upward slice, severed V'yr's weapon-hand likewise. She screamed out and stumbled backwards, dropping to a knee with blood gushing out.

Both combatants while on their knees, stared at each other for the longest, agonizingly tense moments. V'yr called her blade to her left hand as Brimstone held onto his.

"Looks like we are at a stalemate again, Jedi" spat the Chiss. "We either keep slicing each other apart, piece by piece, or we admit a passe and go on our separate ways.

V'yr could sense he was telling the truth on the "piece by piece" statement and she wasn't ready to die a gruesome death. "I agree. A Passe it is. Then she saluted the Plagueian with her blade before shutting off. Brimstone did likewise.

Then they both staggered to the dismembered hands, retrieved them, and left in separate ways.