Deep within the jungles of Karufr lies a massive temple built from stone blocks, hand-carved by the builders of the Massassi. The ancient race made its home on the planet after joining forces with Clan Taldryan, having been freed from stasis years ago. Now, an entire civilization exists, hidden far from the prying eyes of Karufr's citizenry. As a Jedi, you are one of the few to have access to their secret base.

You step onto the temple grounds and watch the fearsome warriors train in small regiments with their crude weapons. The entire temple is in a state of anticipation as the Massassi know they will soon be called on once more to aid the Dark Jedi of Taldryan in battle. The temple is shaped like a giant pyramid, towering into the sky, and serves as a backdrop to the training ground.

The War Chief notices you and gestures you forward. He clears the area around you with a bellowing command, and the Massassi warriors present form a wide circle with you at the center. A moment later, you realize you're not the only Jedi to visit the temple—the crowd parts slightly to allow the newcomer to enter the ring. The gathered Massassi holler in good cheer. They want to see a fight.

The Chief raises his weapon to the sky and barks a command. The Massassi begin to stamp their feet against the ground, creating a loud, steady beat that seems to get your blood pumping. With little choice left, you lock eyes with your opponent and ready yourself for a fight.

As Locke entered the circle of Massassi warriors, he warily held his blaster rifle ready. He looked at the diminutive Zabrak at the other side, pondering his next move. This would have to be handled carefully. He knew why Cethgus was angry, but did not want to seriously injure the man.

Locke raised his right hand, palm out, and the group of Massassi slowly fell silent. He could almost feel their anticipation, just as he could feel the seething anger from the Zabrak across from him. That anger seemed to almost hum in the Force.

"So," Locke said, lowering his rifle slightly. "Did you come out here just to challenge your Consul?"

Cethgus snarled. "You let the traitors survive. You even let them return to their old roles in the clan. You are not fit to be Consul!"

Locke knew Cethgus referred to the recent conflict in which Darth Vexatus had attempted to complete some arcane ritual. Though Locke had denounced him, many clan members had sided with the Sith Lord. Worse yet, Marcus Kiriyu - the clan's Rollmaster - had taken advantage of the opportunity to try to seek power for himself. In the ensuing confrontation, no one had been killed, but tensions had been high. It was only by delicate work and luck that things had been able to return to normal.

It would require the same today. He could not afford to lose his Proconsul here.

Breathing deeply, Locke shrugged off his blaster rifle strap and tossed the weapon to the ground. If he fired the weapon here, he would likely hit one of the Massassi instead of his opponent. Furthermore, the rifle was brutally destructive, and it would be difficult to incapacitate someone with it without killing them.

The Consul gathered his thoughts before speaking, keeping his voice firm and level. Cethgus was angry, and that would not go away unless given an outlet. Thus, Locke thought, he would draw it out at first. He would let the Zabrak release his tension, and then try to make him understand. "Their deaths would have only weakened the clan and the Brotherhood. That is not something we can afford. The conflict to bring them to justice would be exceedingly destructive. Have you bothered to think of this?"

"Enough!" Cethgus growled, arms suddenly extended, a lightsaber ignited in either hand. "You will die, weakling, and then I will deal with the traitors correctly."

"No," Locke replied, one hand going to his own lightsaber, the blade extending. "You must learn, Cethgus." He emphasized the man's name, leaving off any title. "What would you do? Take my place? Do you think yourself capable of leading?"

"Yes," Cethgus growled. Suddenly he was in motion, rushing toward Locke. The Zabrak flipped his lightsabers in mid-stride, handling them with skilled precision, the blades narrowly missing his body as they spun vertically in the air. Then he clutched each one, blades in reverse. He swung one at Locke and the Arcanist answered with a narrow parry. He heard the Massassi hoot with delight as the fight began.

Locke spun away from Cethgus, giving himself room to prepare another defense. The Zabrak's second lightsaber swiped at the Arcanist from the opposite side. He barely parried that strike, realizing that he would never be able to keep up with Cethgus in lightsaber combat.

Instead, Locke gathered the Force. He thought of his frustration at having a Proconsul who so openly challenged his decisions. He thought of the audacity the man had to assume himself correct without trying to see the Consul's reasoning. He thought of the Marauder's foolish crusade to murder his Consul, without considering the repercussions. The Krath focused his rage and extended one hand as Cethgus came at him again. The Zabrak seemed unstoppable, but the seething energy of the dark side churning in his hand gave Locke confidence.

The Proconsul must have sensed something. His motions changed, and he let go of one lightsaber. The Marauder stopped rushing forward and raised his free hand protectively, palm out, as the discarded lightsaber hit the ground.

Locke unleashed his anger then, blue-white lightning streaking from his fingertips. It was a weak stream - far from full power - but it was enough to give Cethgus pause. The energy crackled in the air as it struck the Marauder's palm, streaking away from it at odd angles. It began to dissipate as Locke held himself back, struggling to save some of his anger and Force energy in reserve.

As the lightning fizzled out, Locke took his chance to speak. His voice was lifeless. This was not the void, but the controlled rage he felt toward the other man. He needed that rage. It was his link to the dark side's power. As it began to slip and Locke felt the more kind part of his mind attempt to take control, the Krath dredged up other thoughts. This was the Proconsul who had jeopardized an entire blockade to take an entire star destroyer to rescue one Dark Jedi. He could not be trusted with an entire clan's resources.

"What do you think will happen if you kill me? Do you expect to return to the clan triumphant? Do you think yourself a fit leader? You used an entire capital ship when I instructed you to rescue Roxas. Your concept of resources is wasteful! You have no concept of foresight or restraint, even now."

The lightning had worn down. Cethgus' anger seemed to grow, though he did not call his other lightsaber back. Locke knew he had only a few more moments to speak.

"Answer me, Cethgus! If I die, what will you do? Think of the future, beyond the tip of your damned lightsaber!"

“I would do what you should have done, kill the traitors that defied their Consul. I would bring the clan out of your dark grip and into the glory of an expanding empire. I will stop us hiding in the shadows of our system, we will become the will of Naga Sadow and with it his vision of an Empire will grow. We will span the stars and bring the other clans into compliance. It will be a grand crusade.” The Iridonian allowed his cold voice to settle into the mind of the Consul.

It was clear that Locke was processing the words, thinking of a way to reason with his Proconsul but to little avail. Instantly the Iridonian darted forward closing the gap in a heartbeat with the assistance of the Force. His blade slamming out with the might of a trained warrior in an attempt to end the Human’s life. Bringing his saber up, the blond haired combatant deflected the attack and stepped back, trying to keep himself away from saber combat with the Iridonian.

Extending his hand the Iridonian allowed his fingers to reach towards the saber laying on the floor, summoning his blade back into his grip with the assistance of the force. Feeling the metal hilt once more within his grasp he ignited the weapon his cold green eyes never leaving the Consul. Locke may be skilled with the Force, but the right to hold the title of Consul was reserved for the worthy. To the Entar, the man in front of him was not worthy of this title.

Darting forward once more, the speed of the Iridionian always impressed Locke, though he may not admit it to his face. Combat prowess was something that Cethgus continued to aspire to and he was a quick learner, his blade coming out and slashing at Locke, though for all of his faults was still trying to reason with his Proconsul. The two blades crackled and sparked as they continued to impact against one another, the Arcanist’s voice cutting through the noise of combat.

“You need to realise why I took the actions I did, it was to benefit the clan, nothing more. You must trust my actions here and see reason on these matters.” Locke was trying his best to keep his calm in this fight, as blows rained down upon him from the Iridionian.

Something finally snapped in the Consul, his frustration with his recalcitrant subordinate coming to the fore as he saw an opening and lashed out, the move would see this fight shift into something different. Warning signals screamed in the Iridonian’s mind as he darted under the strike. Taking one step back he forced his fist out, an invisible force slammed into the Augur’s hand, putting more force behind the strike. Locke unwillingly continued his attack, following the strike through while off balance, carving through the Massassi warrior who was unlucky enough to be stood behind him, extinguishing his life in an instant.

Roars of outrage erupted from the other warriors that surrounded the two combatants. Cethgus was already on the move, stepping out of the circle and taking a higher ground approach to the situation his words already passing out of his lips.

“He broke the rules of combat, killed one of your brothers and defies your sacred beliefs. Make him pay for his insubordination, fight with me and see that he suffers for his direct attack on your culture.” Cethgus’s cold words echoed through the arena, as the War chief raised up his staff letting out commands to the others who began advancing on the Consul, weapons raised and ready to make his mistake be the last one he ever made.

Anger seethed within Locke. He prepared himself as the Massassi warriors approached. How dare Cethgus continue to deny his superiority and question his actions? The first warrior attacked, and Locke ducked inside his defenses, slicing his lightsaber across the creature's midriff. The warrior howled, and was replaced with another, who snarled at Locke in a deep, alien voice. Having no room to maneuver, the Arcanist plunged his lightsaber into the second warrior's chest, bringing them eye to eye as the weapon sank deeper. Locke growled right back at him, vocally expending his frustration.

Locke yanked his lightsaber out of the warrior's body and retreated a few feet, forcing himself to consider the situation. The death of two of their warriors had caused the Massassi to think twice. Now they hesitated, considering their prey. That gave Locke an opportunity to process the situation. He would not let Cethgus goad him into this madness. The Consul knew he had already made a mistake by rushing to attack Cethgus. The Proconsul was just so blind and stubborn.

He was angry that Cethgus had brought the engagement to this, but silently acknowledged the Zabrak's cunning in battle. He was an excellent warrior, but he did not seem to be much else. He could fight, but could he lead? Locke would show him what was truly required. The Arcanist gathered the Force and prepared himself, feeling the energy well up in him. It seemed to pass through his body, rising like a fountain, finally settling around Locke's lungs and throat.

When Locke spoke, his voice was like thunder.

"Stop!" he shouted. The Massassi paused at the sudden boom of the Arcanist's command, seeming to listen. If they understood Cethgus, that meant they understood Basic. Locke turned his gaze to their chief. "My opponent is a coward! He seeks to use you to fight his own battles, as no true warrior would. He retreats, and allows you to die in his place."

Confidence building, Locke exerted his will. He stood straighter; he made his tone commanding. It was not without cost, as his body ached. Even with the Force, he could feel the pain of forcing his lungs and throat to such extremes. This would have to end quickly.

"You have seen that I can fight your warriors. Now stand aside and allow me to conclude my duel with the one who would have you do his work for him!"

Locke's eyes met the Chief's. For a moment no words were spoken and the Bakuran wondered if he had made a mistake.

Then Cethgus broke the silence. "Don't be fools! He killed one of your number."

"Indeed," Locke replied, voice quieting to normal levels. He did not look at Cethgus. Instead, the Consul kept his eyes locked on the Chief's. He let go of his lightsaber, letting it roll to the side to indicate that he did not mean to attack the warriors further. "But only as a byproduct of honorable combat." He extended his arm, pointing in Cethgus' direction. The Zabrak was almost entirely obscured behind the ranks of hulking Massassi. "Unlike him, I did not hide behind rows of warriors and attempt to have them fight my battle for me."

The Chief seemed to consider for a moment. Then, as Cethgus began to speak again, the Chief shouted something in his own language. The rows of warriors stepped apart, forming a ring as they had before. This time, it was much larger. Cethgus stood at the opposite side. His face contorted in a snarl as he glared at Locke.

"Very clever," the Marauder growled.

Locke merely nodded. He lowered a hand to his belt, very aware of how vulnerable he was without his weapon. A plan formed in his mind as he continued to speak. "You see what true leadership is? Now, don't hide again. It is so uncharacteristic of you. Besides, you have always been one to tackle your problems head on, or are you truly even less of a man than I thought you were, Zabrak?"

That insult set him off. Cethgus roared with anger and charged toward Locke. Though the distance was longer than it had been at the start of the battle, the Marauder closed it quickly, likely using the Force to enhance his speed. Frustration quickly rose within Locke. Though he had expected as much and sought it, the Arcanist was still disappointed. If words would not work with Cethgus, Locke would show the man a different kind of language. The Bakuran grabbed one of the detonators at his belt and tossed it toward his opponent along the ground, at the same preparing the Force. He poured his anger into his other hand, letting the violent energy gather there.

Reacting quickly, Cethgus leaped as soon as the detonator left Locke's hand. It exploded below him, the shock wave battering the Marauder from below. While he was distracted, Locke raised his other hand and unleashed all of his passionate anger in one, concentrated strike. Lightning leaped from his fingers again. The bolts arced and struck Cethgus at almost point blank. The man growled, the force of his momentum carrying him on behind Locke. The Arcanist turned and watched as Cethgus hit the ground and rolled several feet, his lightsabers each rolling away in a different direction.

Locke breathed deeply. He wanted to lecture Cethgus more. He wanted to remind the Marauder of his foolishness. He wanted to put the other man in his place. Cethgus' plans would result in obliteration for not only Naga Sadow, but the Brotherhood as a whole. That could not be allowed. Locke knew he had to quickly subdue Cethgus. Otherwise, the Marauder would get up and likely not let his anger get the best of him again.

Running forward and calling on the Force once more, Locke slipped his SH-9 slugthrower into his dominant hand. With the other, he gestured toward one of the dead Massassi warriors. Tendrils of the Force wrapped around the creature's fallen weapon. Locke yanked at it and motioned his hand in a throwing motion, the weapon flying forward. It hit Cethgus in the face as he attempted to raise his head, seeming to stun him for a moment.

Next, Locke focused the Force around the Zabrak, closing his free hand to a fist, imagining that he held Cethgus' throat in it. He knew he could not truly hold his weakened opponent this way, but it had to be enough. At the same time, he raised the slugthrower and aimed it at Cethgus' left leg. The Marauder barely noticed, hands in fists, all willpower focused on fending off Locke's Force attack. His motionless lower half was an easy target.

There was a sharp, loud crack as Locke pulled the SH-9's trigger. Cethgus howled as the slug went through his kneecap, though Locke could not say if that was in pain or anger. The Arcanist finally stopped beside Cethgus, calmly repositioning the slugthrower. He fired again, this time sending a slug through the Zabrak's' other knee cap. Locke was panting now. Sweat beaded on his forehead, running into his eyes. His throat ached. His mind throbbed with a severe headache. This day had taxed him in more ways than one. He looked into Cethgus' sunken, emerald eyes. They glared back, seemingly filled with rage.

When Locke spoke, it was in a quiet, hoarse whisper. "Your plans would doom the Brotherhood. You lack foresight. You would conquer? You would reveal us to the Jedi and the Alliance, and we would die. You cannot lead!"

As Locke spoke, Cethgus raised shaking hands to his shirt. Locke watched, preparing for any counter attack, but the Zabrak merely grabbed his own shirt. Then he ripped it open.

Locke lost his concentration as he saw what was there, branded anew into the Marauder's chest. That distinct shape - with a crescent below and spikes along the outer edge - was recognizable across the Brotherhood. Locke was distantly aware of Cethgus repositioning his hands, but something else was at the forefront of the Consul's mind.

That is the Arconan emblem!

He heard Cethgus speak, then. It was a quiet whisper, like a blade unsheathing in shadow.

"Arcona Invicta!"

Barely detecting the Force strike in time, Locke turned away as quickly as he could. It hit the back of his shoulder, causing an unnatural snapping sound. The Arcanist stumbled forward, falling to his knees, crying out as his right arm exploded in pain. Locke dropped the slugthrower and clutched his broken shoulder with the opposite hand. He dimly recognized the agony of broken bones. Locke grit his teeth and focused the Force to numb the pain. Unable to do so fully, he instead turned to his emotions and focused on them. Shaking, the Arcanist stood up. He removed his S-5 blaster pistol from its sheath and pointed it at Cethgus with a trembling hand.

"Why?" He mouthed. He moved his tongue, gathering moisture to speak. "Why go back now? Traitor."

Cethgus chuckled then, though it ended in a wheez. "You fool, so idealistic. I have never been loyal to you. The Shadow Clan has given me everything. Why would I turn my back on them?"

Hearing those words caused fury to blossom within Locke, but he did not have the will to express it. Instead, he turned to the Massassi War Chief, who still watched the battle. Locke approached him slowly, doing his best not to stumble. The weight of responsibility seemed to crush the Consul's shoulders. He had a lot of work to do.

"Keep him," Locke said. "Do not let him leave."

Then he turned back to Cethgus, one more thing to say. The fury was still there in the Consul's mind, but other thoughts overtook it. The shock of such betrayal had not fully hit him yet. They all had trusted Cethgus. The Dark Council in appointing him, Locke, the Summit, the Clan. I should have known better.

Locke spoke to his - former - Proconsul one more time. "I will inform the Taldryan Summit that they can do with you what they will. I believe they have a notable distaste for Arconans. Perhaps they will send you back to Arcona, perhaps not. I am done here."

Turning away, Locke recovered his weapons and left, mind focused on the future.

Descending onto the Consul with years of experience, the Massassi brandished their weapons, encircling the Human who was now fighting a losing battle. Locke darted out of the way of an incoming strike with ease as his blade carved its way through a second native. Though violence would have been his last resort, even the Consul knew that right now he had to get out of this situation before things escalated at a pace that even he would be unable to soothe down with words.

Warning signs came as a second strike threatened to take his head clean off, he ducked under the weapon and kicked out in vain, hoping to clear some room for him to fight in. The blond haired male's eyes caught a glint of the Iridonian standing and watching him get surrounded, it seemed that all reason had been shot to the wind by the Proconsul. Spinning his yellow blade with ease in his hand he lashed out with the weapon watching it easily slice through a second warrior that was mid swing when he dropped down.

“Is this the only solution you know, Cethgus? Violence always brings death and destruction. We need to be reasonable about this. Try to understand why I did what I did; it was because the clan is stronger for it.” Locke’s voice could be heard over the noise of battle as the Iridonian moved swiftly to join the fight against the Consul.

Passing through the crowd with speed his two blades slammed into Locke’s with a force that caught him off guard. It was clear that the Force was aiding the strength of the Iridonian as he slashed out, his blades smashing into his Consul’s as sparks erupted from the two weapons. Spinning on his heel, the Proconsul tried to end the fight instantly with a slash that would have carved the Human in half. Jumping backwards out of the way, the Arcanist found pain rippling threw his spine, stumbling forward he spun around seeing one of the Massassi warriors moving swiftly with a mace. Clearly he had managed to score a hit, that much had been clear due to the sensation running through the Krath’s body.

Locke had no time to recover as Cethgus was back on top of him, slashing with a fury that was renowned for this warrior. On the defensive from the Obelisk it was clear that this fight was going one way, as Locke tried to avoid another incoming Massassi he felt the sharp pain erupting into his gut, sparing a second to glance down the tip of a spear was protruding into his body, blood striking down the side of his body. It seemed that fighting against these odds had cost him. As he tried to form words, a kick came to his stomach, sending him sprawling to the floor.

Before he could get up, the well trained Warriors rained down blows on him, the sounds of blood gurgling in the Consul’s mouth could be heard, if he choked to death or the beating with blunt weapons killed him was uncertain. As the group moved away it was clear from the broken and twisted body that Locke was no longer living as the Iridonian allowed a small smile to come to his lips at the sight.

“He was weak, the clan will now be strong, the empire will rise in the darkest nights and Naga Sadow will be restored to former glory. For your help, Massassi, I will grant you aid when you need it most.” Cethgus spoke the words, unsure if they understood him or not, it didn’t matter.

What mattered most was now Naga Sadow had someone with a iron fist in charge. Someone that would not let crimes go unpunished, he would purge those traitors from the ranks and leave the former Consul’s rotting corpse on this world.