The natives see it as an obstacle to their lifestyle, whilst outsiders perceive it as a diamond in the rough. Regardless of the opinion, Menat Ombo is the most technological settlement on New Tython. Crammed with tall and slim towers, alleys and market squares have randomly developed where the necessary room is. You might turn a corner and see a vendor selling smoked meat from the indigenous animals, and the next corner could be a home. The merchant stalls are almost always temporary, folding easily with several clippings or a really good show of strength. Above the awnings of the stalls, buildings of various shapes and sizes crafted of sand and stone and earth create a set of interconnecting rooftops in some parts with wide gaps in the others.

It is easy to get lost in the crowds of people. As you leave the central market, countless alleys splinter out and lead to quieter sections of the city. The streets are kept tidly by maintenance droids. and the air is clean. At night, the city and marketplace are well lit, and the lights from the scattered inns create a welcoming ambiance to the twilight air.

The smell of freshly cooked meat lingered in the air, it was enough to make anyone drool. Temptation to pick up a slab of meat had managed to wind its way into the Augur’s mind as he let his feet carry him towards the crowded market. Information had been leaked to Locke that a traitor was feeding a bounty hunter information about the Clan, and this was their normal meeting point or at least that was what was given to them. Allowing his green eyes to scan the crowd, Cethgus looked for anyone that stood out of the crowd.

Moving swiftly pass a large group he darted into the doorway of an open building and headed straight upstairs. Going onto the balcony he allowed himself to glance around the crowd, keeping crouched down. The Obelisk instantly spotted a man wearing a light grey robe with the hood drawn up, clearly walking with determination. Something about the man made Cethgus believe that this was his target. He allowed himself to swiftly join the crowd, his height giving him the advantage as he weaved himself through the crowd with ease.

As he approached the man, Cethgus recognised the military style of the boots and knew it was a member from Naga Sadow. His always present anger boiled slightly at the fact that once more it seemed this member was at fault. He had been warned once and it seemed he had ignored those warnings. His crimes would now be punished. The Iridonian trailed him for a while waiting for the chance to strike. The opportunity came as the Knight darted down a side alley and Cethgus ran after him.

“Marcus! Stand your ground, I'm here to take a pound of your flesh.” The Augur's voice crackled through the corridor as he watched the man stop and look towards the Proconsul.

Cethgus took advantage of the surprised Marcus, who gawped in shock at the Zabrak. His pair of lightsabers were in his hands and ignited, the difference in colour only served to highlight how deadly they were. As passersby cleared the street, fleeing from the potential battleground, the Augur didn’t wait for Marcus to defend himself, but charged forward to attack the Knight. The two blades lashed out to crash into the acidic yellow blade of the Rollmaster. It seemed unlike the last time, where Cethgus had merely beaten the Epicanthix, this time Marcus would not get off lightly. The Proconsul would only be happy when he had reaped Marcus' life.

“I swear this isn’t what it looks like!” Marcus spoke quickly trying to calm the already escalated situation.

Cethgus drew one blade back, the cerulean blade smashing it into the lock with the help of the Force. The sheer strength of the blow caught the Knight off guard, forcing him to lose his footing. A chink in his armour appeared, the Proconsul took advantage of it, lashing out with a kick to the side of Marcus' knee. The Sith's leg buckled under the blow and sent him skidding sideways to the floor.

The Obelisk swiftly followed up the kick with a slash from one of his lightsabers, aiming to take the traitor's head. Marcus quickly rolled out of the way of the slash and used the momentum to push himself up off the floor.

The Rollmaster was rattled, but refused to give up. He turned to face the Augur, his lightsaber raised in a defensive stance. He tried once more to explain “As I said, this isn't what it looks like...”

The last words hadn’t escaped his lips before he was forced to sidestep another angry slash, aimed at slicing him open from gut to chin. The Proconsul’s angry attacks came more rapidly now, forcing Marcus on the defensive as he parried them.

“Damn it man,” the former Krath yelled. “Listen to reason, will you. I’m trying to expla-”.

His explanation was again cut short as he was forced to parry a left-sided slice, and then to duck and roll backwards, narrowly avoiding the second contained field of plasma aimed at his throat. They had cleared the alley now, their fight scattering market-goers to the adjacent streets. A few kids peeked out from alley-corners as the two duelists exchanged blows with awed looks on their faces, only to be yanked back by concerned parents.

Though short and insanely light, the Zabrak was easily keeping up the pressure on the Epicanthix, a testament to the Obelisk’s skill. Marcus kept being forced back despite his best efforts, his insight into the patterns of the Proconsul’s attacks the only reason he was able to keep up. Detecting an opening, the younger of the two duelists suddenly stepped into a downward slice from the Augur, nudged the blade aside, and placed his right leg between Cethgus’ and pushed hard. The lightweight Zabrak flew back a couple of meters, narrowly missing the upward lunge of Marcus’ lightsaber. Marcus and Cethgus now stood a few meters apart, the horned humanoid having already regained his balance.

“Now will you listen to me?” the Rollmaster pleaded. “You’ve got it the wrong idea. The bounty hunter I’m meeting has information about someone who’s spying on us.”

The look of anger on the Augur’s face was mixed with mild confusion. “What are you babbling about,” he demanded.

The two force users started circling each other, Marcus kept his his own lightsaber angled slightly up- and outward, poised to catch any sudden attacks the Equite might launch. Cethgus had his main weapon pointed at the former traitor’s head, his secondary held loosely in his other hand.

“A couple of days ago I started receiving messages from an unknown source, detailing activities that proved someone was spying on the Clan.” Marcus spoke quickly and urgently, clearly aware that the Zabrak’s calm wouldn’t last long. “I sent out feelers, to determine who sent the message and who the spy was. The mercenary I was supposed to meet here had that info.”

“That’s good, Marcus. Really good,” the former Obelisk replied, slowly moving towards his quarry, unnoticed. “There’s just one problem. I don’t buy it,” he exclaimed loudly as he once again leapt at his opponent.

Lashing out, he felt the anger buildings inside of him. The Rollmaster always had an answer, well no more this time. He would fall from the pillar of lies he had build up. Cethgus brought his sabers up, cutting out at the Knight, his anger threatening to boil over at the lack of respect Marcus showed to the Clan. Forcing his weapons up as warning bells rang through his mind he deflected the attack, fighting in the side streets really did limit the two combatants. Cethgus used his strength to batter away the yellow saber blade with ease, rotating his secondary blade to come out in a brutal slash.

Marcus was forced onto his back foot, unable to hold himself equal to the combat prowess of the Proconsul. He had to move away from the oncoming attack, dodging it as he struggled to keep his balance. Using the influence of the Force, the Iridonian’s muscles strained out as he spun on his heel bringing his saber across the man’s cheek, the tip of the blade causing the skin to burn and send Marcus reeling backwards from the intense heat. His hand instantly came up to his face, feeling the burn. Though it was nothing major it was enough to cause him to flinch at the touch of the sensitive cut. Smelling the bitterly sweet smell of burning flesh, Marcus instantly raised his saber back up.

The Knight noted the gaze that had never left him, it seemed the Iridonian was slipping into a focus that would not see any form of reason taken against it. What had once been a crowded street now became empty of all signs of public, leaving it to be sorted out by the two of them. Pressing the attack the Iridonian drove himself towards the Rollmaster once more his blades lashing out with lethal precision. The pace of the fight was clearly taking its toll on the Knight, his blade coming to block the vicious amount of slashes that were rained down upon him.

With the assistance of the Force the muscles of the Iridonian pushed further than possible, his strikes landing heavy blows onto the yellow blade. As the opening came up Cethgus bartered away his opponents defence, unable to land the kick as Marcus ducked under it, sensing the incoming danger. He was unable to avoid the follow up attack however. Spining around the Iridonian slammed the butt of his saber hilt into the Human’s neck, sending him stumbling forward. Unable to recover from the impact he felt the intense pain as his opponent's white blade sliced through the back of his legs, cutting the ligaments and bone that held him up, sending him sprawling to the ground with a dull thud.

Screams of agony rippled down the small street as Marcus’ mind was clouded with intense pain, the figure of the Iridonian loomed over him and glanced down. His eyes full of hate and anger as he circled the man coming to the front of the Human.

“I told Locke we should have killed you after the stunt you pulled. Trying to overthrow your Consul and take the power, you forget your place and you made a grave error. By attempting to spy for others on us you broke the only chains that held me in check. Shame, you had potential, and you trained our new knights with passion, something I do admire. But now, Marcus, your end has come about at my hands. I apologize for this, you were of use to the Clan. I take no pride in stripping that away, but what choice have I got?” Cethgus allowed the ice cold voice to echo into the downed man’s ears.

Raising himself up to his feet he glanced down knowing that his hand had been forced, but still the Knight deserved a quick end to the suffering that his body was currently under. In one slash the fight was over, the man's head rolled on the street floor, seeing the traitor slain for his crimes. Deactivating his blade the Proconsul quickly sprinted into the streets, grabbing Marcus' lightsaber as he went, heading towards the heavy crowds to conceal himself once more. The noise of the fight and commission would surely gather attention quickly, now it was the Iridonians hope that it was not traced back to Clan Naga Sadow.

The ferocity that the tiny Iridonian displayed surprised Marcus; the blows kept raining down in increasing ferocity, the duo of contained plasma hammering against his own. If there was anything Marcus could do it was to barely hold on. Sweat dripping from his brow, he managed to parry a double overhead slash that would have cleaved him neatly into two pieces.

More blows hammered onto his defensive stance, weakening him by the second. He could feel his muscles beginning to weaken, the constant exertion taking its toll on his tiring body. As he sidestepped an upward swipe, he failed to notice the Proconsul’s elbow connecting with his left temple sending him spinning to the ground. Stars erupted in his head as he hit the ground hard, his lightsaber skittering across the market ground.

“You have betrayed me for the last time Marcus,” Cethus growled as he hoisted the traitorous Rollmaster from the ground by his throat.

Lifting him close to his face the dwarfish Dark Jedi didn’t receive a reply, Marcus was unconscious. The sickening crunch that followed echoed across the market square. The Entar cocked his head slightly to the right, a cold expressionless look on his face as he held Marcus’ broken arm up. A scream of pain escaped from the Sith’s lips as he came to.

“Good, I wanted you to be awake for this,” the Augur whispered. “I’ve decided against killing you, surprising I know, but you will have one last chance to prove yourself to me.”

Letting go of his prey’s throat, Cethgus let Marcus’ head fall hard to the ground as he mentally tugged on the Rollmaster’s lightsaber, calling it neatly to his hand. He held it up in front in front of his quarry and for a moment it seemed as if Marcus would snatch it from his hand and continue fighting, but nothing happened. Instead, the Equite lit his own lightsaber and split the Knight’s lightsaber in two, down the middle, rendering it’s components and the crystal that powered it useless.

“Everything you own will be destroyed. Nothing will be left of your exploits before this moment. You’ll build a new lightsaber, free of the taint you brought to your position and your clan,” the small Iridonian explained as he lifted the rogue Rollmaster’s limp body over his shoulders and moving towards one of the stables in the square’s southern corner.

Marcus could do nothing but groan in pain, whatever concentration he had left solely devoted to keeping conscious. As they reached the stable, he could feel himself being lifted off his senior’s shoulders. The next moment he was weightless, but before he could appreciate this he body hit the wall hard and he landed in the excrement and mud of various pigs and other small cattle, which scurried away upon his impact.

“One last chance, traitor,” Cethgus mumbled as he walked away, leaving the broken man lying in the filth of beasts.