You stand in a room, nearly dark but for the pulse of rhythmic flashes of bright colored lights. Besides your opponent and yourself, you note a large number of bystanders who are sure to take exception to the coming carnage. Then again, knowing this crowd, they could just as easily find entertainment in an old-fashioned brawl. Spanky's is, after all, one of the more fashionable drinking establishments of Karufr.

The patrons seem to be a mix between the scantily clad women hawking their charms and the well-dressed gentlemen eager to part with their hard-earned credits. The odors in the tavern assault your senses and threaten to muddle your reflexes. Among them, you recognize over a dozen various types of stimulants—both legal and illegal—and the heady scent of, what is quite possibly, the most varied collection of liquor this side of the Galaxy.

The tavern itself is fraught with tactical advantages and disadvantages. Designed in the familiar style of all amphitheaters, the floor is slightly slanted toward a central stage where a lithe, twi'lek female is currently dancing. Littered amongst the floor are drink tables, heavily laden with glassware and other potential missiles. Uncomfortable, heavy metal chairs surround each of the tables in a semi-circle, so that the occupant's view of the stage is never hindered. The only exit, aside from the doorway where you stand, is a vaulted staircase—guarded by two very well-dressed, and heavily muscled, gentlemen—leading into parts unknown.

Small bars bracket the tavern on either side, filled with a glittering rainbow of bottles. Whatever is about to go down, you realize it would go down better with a stiff drink.

The attack came the instant Tyron opened his mouth to taunt his opponent. It came without any warning, Andrelious J. Mimosa-Inahj moving with the with the preternatural speed of the Force. The opposing Sith's lightsaber materialized in his hand, igniting and spiraling across the room toward Tyron faster than thought itself. The Hunter barely managed to duck out of the way, the lightsaber’s blade slicing off a section of his cape as he threw herself to the floor. By the time the weapon completed its boomerang path and returned to Andrelious' hand, he was on his feet … as was Tyron. He realized Andrelious' initial greeting had all been an act. He had been waiting with his lightsaber up his sleeve the whole time, just looking for Tyron to lower his guard. Tyron braced himself for the Warlords next assault. Andrelious fired out a sharp burst of dark side power in a shimmering wave designed to knock Tyron from his feet. Tyron easily countered by throwing up a protective energy barrier. Tyron stood still, his own lightsaber still tucked inside his belt. But he was wary now: Andrelious had almost fooled him once, and he wasn’t about to let it happen again. As he leapt over the couch toward him, Tyron ignited his own weapon. The red blade sprung to life, and he fell into the familiar dance. Andrelious came in low to start, slashing at the Hunters legs. When Tyron parried the Warlords incoming blade he spun away quickly, moving out of range before Tyron could retaliate. At the same time, Tyron dived forward into a somersault that brought him close enough to strike at his opponents right side as he tumbled past him. Andrelious easily repelled the threat, as he pivoted just enough so that Tyron's weapon missed his hip by less than a centimeter. For good measure Andrelious kicked him hard in the back as he rolled past, a blow meant not to disable him, but to goad him on to further aggression. His kick had had the desired effect: when the Hunter came at him the next time his face was twisted with snarling rage. His fury allowed him to call upon the dark side, making him even more dangerous as he unleashed his next series of attacks. Leaping high in the air, crouching low to the ground, lunging forward, springing back, spinning, twisting, and twirling, he came at Andrelious from every conceivable angle in a relentless barrage meant to overwhelm his defenses, The Warlord was forced to parry his attacks and leap back. It didn’t take long for Tyron to sense that his opponent was wearing down. He, on the other hand, was barely winded. Tyron was using the Force to keep him rejuvenated and when the Warlord was a step slow in retreating after one of his thrusts, Tyron kicked his feet out from under Andrelious and sent him sprawling to the floor, only to back away and let him get to his feet again. Tyron was just getting started.

Who does this Journeyman think he is? Andrelious thought to himself. He was shocked that the Hunter had dared take him on so openly.

“You fight well for someone so new to the Brotherhood. Keep it up and you’ll make a fine Sith,” the Warlord stated, eyes focused on the much taller Human.

Kesh shrugged, as if Andrelious’ compliment meant little to him. Instead of offering a verbal response, he charged in, armoury lightsaber armed and ready to continue the fight. The Warlord ducked, using his smaller stature to easily avoid his opponent’s attack, before countering with a series of powerful blows of his own. Tyron was forced onto the defensive as the older Sith pushed forwards.

“So typical of a Journeyman. You beat a training droid or two and think you can take the rest of the Clan on!” Mimosa-Inahj hissed, sliding his blade past the Hunter’s defences. Rather than land a telling blow, however, he merely singed the larger man’s clothing before pulling back.

“Last chance. Push me again and I will not show such clemency,” Andrelious warned, stepping back to give his fellow Sith a little breathing space.

Without any pause, Tyron leapt at the Warlord with a roar, trying to guide his lightsaber directly through his opponent’s middle. Many a fighter would have been caught by surprise, but Mimosa-Inahj’s senses were far too well attuned to fall to such a tactic; he blocked the Journeyman’s attack with ease, before ordering the Force to hurl Kesh across the room. The heavyset Human landed on a nearby table, shattering some glasses that had been left discarded on its surface. The shard of glass pierced his skin, leaving a series of small, bleeding cuts along his torso.

“I warned you. Now I suggest you run before I finish you off,” Andrelious spat, his eyes glinting red.

On the ground, Tyron saw his opponent coming towards him most likely to finish him. Before the Warlord could get close Tyron had drawn his Blaster and fired three quick bolts towards his opponent. His opponent dodged each of them with ease but the distractions gave Tyron enough time to get back on his feet and reignite his Lightsaber. Instead of slouching like he normally did, Tyron stood to his full stature his hair almost brushing the ceiling.

"I am Tyron Kesh and in front of me you are nothing." He said triumphantly.

The Hunter lunged at his opponent using the Force to project his mass. Tyron landed a few feet in front of his opponent. Tyron attacked his opponent than he had in any other battle; he was furious at the fact that this man saw him as just another Journeyman. The man fell back under Tyron's ferocious assault, frantically parrying the blows and retreating until he realized he was being back into a corner of the bar. Before Tyron could completely corner him the Warlord jumped over Tyron with ease due to his small stature. Andrelious landed on the other side of the bar and then went on the offensive, charging at Tyron with unnatural speed thanks to the Force but Before he could get close enough to Tyron the Hunter shot a fury of purple lightning from his hand forcing the Warlord to dodge and thus allowing Tyron to leap towards his opponent. With his Lightsaber held high above his head Tyron came down on his opponent to end the battle once and for all.

Tyron didn’t even consider his opponent’s warning. He rushed towards Andrelious, leaping as he closed in. The Hunter focused on his anger, converting raw emotion into power that steeled his muscles, allowing him to hit the older Sith far harder than before. The vigour of the attack caught Mimosa-Inahj slightly off guard, but the Warlord, a veteran of such tactics, was able to quickly adapt his own style. He blocked some attacks, dodged others, waiting patiently for a telling opening to present itself.

As his fury fuelled attack began to slow down, Kesh found himself a little fatigued. He cursed under his breath at his failure at scoring even a minor hit on his opponent. Meanwhile, Andrelious, who had sensed what was happening, appeared to step up a gear himself, as if he had been toying with the Hunter.

“Now you will see just how much damage I can do to you, Journeyman. If you hadn’t been so aggressive, so sure of yourself, this power could have been yours!” Andrelious roared, smashing his blade into its opposite number. The armoury lightsaber held firm, as did Tyron’s arms, but the move hadn’t been intended as anything other than a feint.

Extending his arms outwards, Mimosa-Inahj sprayed a large fan of electrical energy directly at his opponent. The Hunter was thrown back by the attack, crashing with some force into a nearby wall. Andrelious smirked: his point was made, but he wasn’t ready to stop quite yet.

“Stop what you’re doing at once!” a voice ordered. The Warlord looked around to spot Kierdagh, Consul of Taldryan.

“Ah. Lord Consul. I was merely giving Mr. Kesh an advanced training exercise..” Andrelious responded nervously.

“Whatever you were doing, you’re done now,” Kierdagh continued, detecting that Tyron was badly wounded, mostly from electrocution, but alive.

“Very well. He’s learned a lot today,” the Warlord replied, loud enough for his opponent to hear.

A medical team arrived, ready to take the defeated Hunter away to begin his slow, painful recovery.