Your senses are overwhelmed as you set foot on the planet [Oricon], the base of the ancient Dread Masters nearly lost to time. The landscape is an unforgiving nightmarescape of lava flows and volcanic rock dotted with strange plants and starship wrecks from a battle thousands of years ago. The smoky, sulfuric air of the surface nearly chokes you as your eyes struggle to adjust to the foggy haze illuminated by the soft glow of the lava flows. Tall, luminous blood ferns adorn the landscape, surrounded by vicious predators hardy enough to survive the intense conditions. Trenches and outcroppings formed from flowing lava serve to make footing uneven, adding yet another treacherous element to this already dangerous world. In the distance, the ruins of an ancient tower call to you - the fabled fortress of the Dread Masters. Remnants of ancient cults can be seen here and there, from wrecked huts to blood-stained altars and crumbling oubliettes.

The Dark Side is strong here, but somehow feels different from other Sith planets you have encountered. You are not alone on this ancient world of nightmares.

Feeling the ground beneath his feet slide slightly, the Iridonian regained his footing with ease as he glanced around at this abandoned hell. Lava spilled from cracks in the rocky ground around him and flowed with ease around the planet like the veins feeding the dark core of Oricon. Ships were scattered around damaged and scarred creaking every now and then from the constant shifting of the earth. As he walked to a large opening by the standards of this place his eyes fell onto the cloaked figure that seemed to be waiting for him.

“Quaestor Ventus, it would seem that you got my message then.” The Iridonian’s cold voice drowned out the crackling lava.

Atra spun on his heels to face the Proconsul, his golden tinted eyes locking onto his opponent’s, corruption seeped through the irises as it brought the realization that this fight needed to take place to Cethgus. Moving the shaggy brown hair out of his eye view the Umbaran waited to see what was taking place between the two of them.

“I’m sorry but in light of recent events within the Clan, you seemed to be the most likely to cause strife amongst us. This is unacceptable and will be dealt with by me.” Cethgus spoke with determination in his voice, his hands coming down and unclipping the two blades from their housings. Gently thumbing the activation button he heard the all too familiar hiss of his blades before the green hew illuminated half his body, the other half bathed in icy blue.

In return for the aggression that was directed against him, Atra allowed his right hand to take his own saber up, thumbing the activation button as he waited to see the Zabrak’s next move. In a split second the two titans were on the move, closing the gap between them. The Iridonian slashed out, snapping his wrist back to let his blade cut across at Atra, aiming to end the fight quickly. Skill was shown in each of their actions. Instinct kicked in from training and Atra’s wrist came up letting his saber block the oncoming strike with ease.

As their blades parried and attacked, the crackling of contact from these forged weapons and shower of sparks only drove determination into both of the men. Cethgus allowed his teeth to show, as he watched Atra flick his wrist, forcing his hand in blocking the attack and taking a few steps back. Heat radiated off the two of them, Atra started to show the first signs of it, sweating from the planet's heat, while the Iridonian showed his birthplace was just as bad being able to cope with this level of humidity in the air.

Cethgus watched as the Seer followed his advantage. The Augur let the Force flow through him, waiting for the strike, sensing it and using his height to his advantage, he ducked under the blade and lashed out with his own. Feeling it make contact he moved away from the man quickly as the surprise feeling of pain ripped into his back, forcing a growl to escape his lips. Spinning on his feet he faced Atra as his eyes searched for what his blade had hit. Seeing the cut into the Umbaran’s shin gave satisfaction. It was deep enough to cause him trouble later if the fight came to an endurance race.

Feeling blood tricking down his back, it was nothing more than shallow cuts but it became clear were they had come from, as the cloak flapped behind his opponent the talon-esque left arm of his glistened in the ambience of lava, it would have been quite romantic if it hadn’t been the fact both of them were engaged in a duel to the death. Watching his blood drip from the arm it seemed that Atra was willing to use anything he had to survive, even a cybernetic arm. Seeing the glow beginning to brighten in his opponent’s skin, the tattoos exuding light due to the dark energy that seeped from his place and into both of them. It seemed that things were about to become a lot more interesting, preparing himself the Iridonian brought his blade to bear.

Ventus could feel it there already, the darkness within growing stronger as his alchemical tattoos rippled across his flesh. The cold heat — quite the oxymoron — rose up to answer the throbbing sensation permeating from his left shin. The wound, though superficial, was inflicted by a weapon that was focused plasma. Once contact was made, the blade's shielding became meaningless and the all-consuming fire cleaved through matter of any kind. It just so happened that flesh was exceptionally susceptible to such a thing, and the all but incinerated nerve endings around the wound screamed through his body. His lip curled in a barely contained snarl as the power of the Dark Side filled him completely, as if he were naught more than its vessel.

"Proconsul," Atra stated with an icy tinge to his voice that contorted the honorific into an insult. His knuckles whitened for a moment around his saber's hilt as he flexed his grip for but a moment. The Umbaran raised his talon-fingered prosthetic hand towards his face, his mismatched eyes watching the crimson riblets dripping from the tips. "You seek to deal with me, eh?" he queried.

Cethgus let out a roar as he opened himself to the Force, becoming its conduit as he launched himself into the flow of the deadly dance that befell them. The Iridonian closed the distance between them remarkably fast, despite his stature. Atra could appreciate that, even if the ex-Arconan was an egotistical waste of flesh. The Proconsul's entire body seemed to flex suddenly with barely contained power just before he launched himself into the air, throwing himself into a spin in an effort to add momentum to the powerful double slash he brought to bear upon Atra.

The Seer planted his feet and unleashed his barely contained power, thrusting it through his every muscle and demanding his body to steel itself for the attack. He grasped Vestigium of Duriel with both hands and swung with all his might, managing to catch both of Cethgus' blades in a spectacle of light and sound. The kinetic force of the clash was staggering, forcing Atra back through the rough dirt of the ground several feet... and yet he maintained his footing. No longer benefiting from momentum, Cethgus dropped to the ground and squared his feet against his opponent, unwilling to let up the attack even as Ventus towered over him and applied the leverage afforded to him in that moment. Through the glowing sparks, the Entar's green eyes fixed upon the gold and yellow of the Dakhani Quaestor.

"Always so—" Atra grunted with effort, interrupting his own words, "—confident that you alone hold the power." The Umbaran did his best to hide a wince as the pain in his leg once more clawed its way into his focus, forcing him to disengage from his enemy and backpedal.

Cethgus' emerald and arctic blades windmilled in front of him as a blur, forming a barrier between them as he sought to close the distance once more. "And yet," the Quaestor managed to continue as he parried to the left, then right, "you are still the outsider here."

"Silence, Quaestor. Let your blade speak for you," Cethgus sneered as he sought to impale his opponent with a stabbing strike of the blade in his left hand, followed quickly by a downward cross slash from the weapon within his right hand's grasp as Ventus managed to pivot out of the way.

Atra's left hand pushed out, bending the Force to his will as he projected it outward and commanded it to solidify mere inches from his outstretched palm. "But it does!" Atra shouted as the blurred light of Cethgus' blade passed over the space between them before glancing away against the invisible barrier. The Quaestor brought his own weapon to bear between them, sliding horizontally across their shared view, the tip pointed toward the ground as it parried Cethgus' slashing emerald saber and drove it skyward. "You forget, I was Proconsul once too," Atra managed between gasping breaths. Perspiring heavily, from the heat of the planet and the intensity of their fight, Atra allowed himself a deep inhale before he brought up his free hand with a roar. Power coalesced in his open palm, contracting for a single heartbeat before exploding outward towards Cethgus.

The Force was already screaming in the back of the furious dwarf's mind, prompting him to lean back as if attempting a record setting limbo. The burst of power rippled over him, but the weight of it still crashed hard against his jaw even as it passed. The impact forced the Iridonian to backpedal several steps before regaining his footing. The coppery taste of blood danced over Cethgus' tongue. His lip curled in disgust before he spat a mixture of blood and saliva upon the ground, drawing his forearm across his lower jaw in order to wipe away the remainder. "Will you never learn your place, Quaestor?" the Zabrak intoned.

"And when will you learn that the true power of your position comes from those who serve beneath it?" Atra called out in rebuttal.

Spinning his blades in a flourish once more, Cethgus sprinted towards Atra, who he had noted was doing his damned best to remain stationary — in no small part to his earlier wound. The small-statured Augur performed a sudden hopping step to stagger his momentum, bringing his right hand across the empty space between them. Ventus brought his saber up defensively in answer to the sudden charge, but had no recourse for the sudden burst of Force energy that slammed into his cheek like a vicious haymaker. The Umbaran's head snapped violently to the side, blood stringing through the air from the fresh cut across his lip.

The Proconsul recovered his momentum and was already pivoting in for a slash that aimed to decapitate his disoriented foe. Atra, however, kicked off the ground with the power of the Force pushing his strength beyond its limits and sending him into a graceful arc over the thin lava flow at his back.

The landing, however, was utterly lacking in grace.

Ventus landed with a heavy thud, dropping to the ground as pain coursed up his left leg. The orange glow bathed his face in a sepia hue even as it contorted in pain. Letting out a long breath, Atra affixed Cethgus with a pointed glare that was obvious despite their sudden distance. "You have convinced yourself that I am a threat that must be dealt with," he managed as he pushed himself wearily up into a kneeling position. "I owe Locke a great debt, you hold no such claim. My life will be forfeit to him alone!"

The Augur was unable to contain the laugh that passed through his lips as he listened to the defiant words of the Umbaran. To think such thoughts was to assume that your own life was one that you had control over. In the Brotherhood Cethgus found through the years that this was the most common mistake that members made. He knew full well that it was forfeited upon joining the Brotherhood. Moving swiftly the Proconsul allowed the force to flow through his veins as he lunged himself at Atra, moving over the course of lava that singed at his robes. Slashing out with his blades the Iridonian propelled himself on a direct crash course into the Quaestor.

Warning alarms set off in the mind of the injured male, he tried to backpedal but his leg echoed with the remnants of the wound earlier inflicted. Swinging his saber up he felt the slashes of the oncoming attack as his opponent’s blade crashed into his own with a surprising amount of force. Atra let out a hiss of pain, as the impact forced his muscles to clench to rease the blows, before being able to react fully the Iridonian was crouched slightly like a wild animal ready to strike out at the unprepared pray.

Bringing his leg to lash out, Cethgus kicked out towards Ventus allowing the Force to intertwine with his muscles, the strike hit its mark with ease as the sound of bone snapping rippled out. Instinct kicked in and the Umbaran reeled backwards from the pain, trying to apply pressure to his leg he staggered backwards as best he could. Grunts of pain escaped the man’s lips as heat and lightning bolts of pain traced there way through his nervous system from the sudden and brutal outburst of his opponent who only a few minutes ago had been standing a decent distance from him. The predatory blaze that shone out of the Iridonian’s eyes was almost terrifying, and would have been against a less experienced opponent.

“You have always talked too much. Just know, Atra Ventus, that life is forfeit as soon as we joined the Brotherhood, you are no exception to this rule.” the cold voice of the Entar echoed into this ears of his prey.

Though injured the Quaestor was still a formidable foe, this fight draining on both of them. The recent use of the Force had taken its toll on the Iridonian, his breathing heavy as beads of sweat dripped down from his face darkening the earth for a split second before the heat evaporated it. Nothing survived on this planet and that was for a good reason, it destroyed anyone and anything that was here.

Cethgus knew that his opponent was injured and now was the time to finish this fight, darting forward his blades arched up as Atra was forced to try and hold his ground, pain rippled through his body as he struggled to keep it silenced. Sparks flew as the blades collided once more, the dance that these two combatants were intertwined in continued. Cethgus slashing and hacking trying to find a way through the defences, while Atra brought his own blade out, forcing the Iridonian to block as the two blades slid against each other echoing out crackles of defiance at their masters’ wills to kill.

Blades continued to impact against each other, the Iridonian had to find the opening soon, as fatigue threatened both combatants at this point. Atra summoned the Force within him, pushing his limits in this fight as he reached out and hauled a chunk of metal from the ground towards the Proconsul. Pain shot into the side of the Iridonian as the metal forced him to stagger slightly, the hit easily fracturing ribs as pain shot through his side with ease. The attack only irritated the Augur more as he darted back into close quarters combat with Atra, determined to end this fight his blades slashed out with a vicious intention. Drawing on his opponent’s defense he forced his arms to allow the force to ripple threw them, battering a blow away that would have killed him his saber came out as it made its hit. The bittersweet smell of burning flesh as Atra reeled backwards, pain flashing in his chest as his leg gave and saw him crumple to the floor.

The most primordial instinct anyone has kicked in as Atra tried to scramble up only to find the Iridonian’s boot slam down onto his hand, the saber in his hand spun across the grit filled floor as it lay motionless.

“Now your life belongs to me and for your defiance I see no place for someone like you in the new Naga Sadow. Good bye, former Proconsul” the words like ice as they reached Atra’s ears.

Atra lashed out with his arm, slamming into the Iridonian’s ribs, shattering already fractured ribs in one last ditch act of defiance from the Quaestor. Anger raged through his body, flooding the agony in a torrent of righteous fury. The Marauder’s boot came down, slamming into Atra’s neck several times, stamping the life out of him. Staggering backwards, Cethgus felt the bitter taste of blood in his mouth as the world flickered around him.

The Iridonian collapsed forward, lying next to the cooling corpse of the Umbaran, the injuries and exhaustion of the fight seeing him pass out on this abysmal planet, leaving his fate to the world as he slipped from consciousness.

The Zabrak's chest rose and fell steadily beneath the clinging shroud of his tunic, the fabric drenched in sweat that seemed to add a perceptible weight to it. His pale, tattooed flesh shimmered in the reflected light of the lava flow, belying the extent of exertion that Cethgus fought not to show. His lip curled in something akin to a snarl as Ata's words reached him, travelling through the heated air that separated them. "Your life was forfeit when you reached planetside, Quaestor," the Proconsul spoke with finality.

Such unerring arrogance.

Resolve fell over the Entar like a familiar cloak, steeling his focus and his thoughts towards a singular goal: to end everything now, in a single instant. His grip shifted around his weapons in an attempt to reaffirm his grasp as the hilts threatened to slip free as his pores continued to exude sweat. Bending the Force to his will, Cethgus felt a surge through his body like a jolt of electricity and sprinted forward, waiting until the last possible moment before planting his feet in the shifting dirt of the ground and coiling the muscles of his legs in preparation to launch into the air.

Through the haze, Atra held both hands outstretched with a look of impressive concentration contorting his expression. For only a moment, just one, Cethgus' thoughts were painted with confusion. Then he felt as if deaf, for the first time since the battle began. Deaf—for how else could such a sensation be described—to the existence of the Force itself. The Proconsul could still feel its power, like a whisper upon the wind but he could not hold it within his grasp, the strands of power flowing through the cracks in his metaphorical hands like water through a sieve. He could still call upon it, but only with what little remained within his palms.

It was too late to halt his momentum, his body was already working through the motions before the shroud of Atra's most sinister ability fell upon him. All he could do, for what it was worth, was adjust his intended launching angle. The Zabrak leaned his body forward just before his legs pushed off the ground with as much augmented force as he could muster. Instead of the intended, graceful arc that would have allowed the Proconsul to crash down upon his foe like a bird of prey, his new vector was one of pure distance, low over the flowing molten substance beneath him. Cethgus could feel the heat licking at his flesh, the promise of pain the likes of which he had not experienced before. The hanging fabric of his tunic ignited into flames as it hung even closer to the radiating warmth.

Luckily for the Proconsul, this particular lava flow was far from the widest of those that scoured the surface of Oricon like molten veins. He crashed into the far bank like a projectile, pain searing through his left shoulder as it absorbed most of the impact as it fell into a mixture of dirt and debris. His sabers deactivated moments before he made contact, eliminating the possibility of self-mutilation as he rolled hard through the spraying dirt, a trail forming in his wake as the shifting surface absorbed his remaining momentum and brought the Zabrak to a skidding halt.

Fury painted the edges of the Entar's vision with a red hue as the reality of his new pain dawned on him. He spat dirt and blood upon the ground as he shifted his gaze towards where he knew Atra to be. His left shoulder was, at the very least, dislocated though he could feel bits of metal shifting beneath his flesh, and he knew his target would not allow him to time to heal the damage.

In that Cethgus was not wrong, as his vision locked upon Atra who had his hands now stretched outward from his core, his right hand holding his saber in a sort of half-grip with his fingers outstretched. Atra's power lashed out, using his extended arms as a focusing channel, tendrils of the Force wrapping about small pieces of debris, little more than sheet metal leftover from the tattered ships of old. With a grunt, the Umbaran swung both arms inward, crossing over each other in front of him. The sound of groaning alloy fell harshly upon their ears for the briefest of moments before the debris gave way to Atra's desires.

Cethgus scrambled to his feet, grimacing through the burning pain throbbing outward from his shoulder. He was not about to allow himself to become sandwiched between the newfound projectiles, if only for the sake of his own sense of pride. Even as his body lunged forward, his left arm swayed limply behind him like little more than a flowing scarf. One of the ship panels crashed into his forearm and sent a fresh wave of pain crashing through the Zabrak's body. The Entar bit his tongue bloody rather than allow himself to cry out, refusing the Quaestor any such satisfaction. Still, he had to glance back to assess the damage. It was only then that he realized his secondary saber was gone.

He had no time to search for it, however, and no real ability to properly wield it in his current state for that matter.

He toggled the activator on his remaining saber, the pale blue blade hissing to life and cutting through the center of his vision. Cethgus let out a battle cry, forcing himself into another sprint to towards the Umbaran. Atra pushed up from his kneeling position and centered himself wearily, his muscles burning in protest just as Cethgus' were. As the men squared off once more, it seemed like little more than their resolve and honour remained to fuel their actions.

The Entar raised his saber high, leaving himself completely open in favor of an aggressive strike, or so it seemed. He rolled forward, while bringing his arm down like an executioner's axe. The maneuver allowed the Augur to close the gap with sudden speed, not allowing Atra any time to prepare a counter. The Seer stumbled to the side, biting through the pain in his leg and almost snarling in anticipation. Cethgus managed to rise up once more, his left arm hanging limp at his side, coated in a mud formed from dirt and blood mingling. Dirt clung to the sweat upon his face as well, coating the right side of the Zabrak's panting face. Atra thrust his cerulean blade forward, his mouth hanging open as he took in air through ragging gasps. His movements were sluggish, a far cry from the speed and precision he had exhibited at the beginning of their bout. Cethgus' swatted the thrust to the side, but lacked the energy to bring it about into a countering strike. Instead, their weapons remained locked and Atra took a shaky step inward.

The Proconsul pushed back against his towering opponent, but neither of them were performing at what could be considered their peak levels. Even as one pulled upon the Force to reinforce their strength, so too did the other. More to the point, Atra did not tire as quickly as was expected, his body surging with adrenaline in answer to the thrill of combat. It helped him to power through what would be his limits and keep going, if even for just a little longer.

"I will not," Cethgus hissed through clenched teeth, "allow you to cause strife in my clan."

Atra growled, an almost completely animalistic sound, pressing forward with the last of his remaining strength and causing the Entar's knees to buckle and the same time as his arms gave way. "You brought this on yourself," he managed to grunt out just before his saber met the slight resistance of flesh.

The Umbaran fell forward, collapsing on top of the Zabrak even as the combination of both their blades nearly cleaved cleanly through Cethgus' torso. As their bodies slammed against the ground with a resounding thud, both sabers deactivated and an uneasy silence fell upon the field. Atra's chest managed a heaving, shaky breath as almost his entire body rose up and down in the effort. His body was on fire, pain and exhaustion mingling to the point that a strange numbness coarsed over him. The Umbaran's mismatched gaze fell on Cethgus' as the last of the light began to fade, the final spark of life retreating into the darkness. "You chose your path," he grumbled wearily, "and this was the only end to be found."

A series of roars in the distance reverberated with such ferocity that Ventus could feel it rumble inside his own chest. He had to stay awake, but the world was already fading to black around the edges of his sight. His fingers worked numbly over his belt, fighting to feel the cold sensation of his communicator. When he finally managed to grasp the device, he was already struggling to keep his eyes open. He managed to activator the emergency transponder before his weak, quiet words followed. "Atra Ventus... in need of immediate extraction... These coordinates," his words trailed off even as the sound of the predators grew louder.

He just couldn't stay in the conscious realm, the battle having taken the last of his body's strength and then some. As he drifted into the unfeeling embrace of unconsciousness, he wondered if he would awaken again, or if this was—at long last—his final battle.

Wouldn't that be something?