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.

The gleaming sunlight peaked at midday through the skylights, which illuminated every corner and pillar inside the winter palace. It was an improbable place to hold an ambush and Qor knew it, he didn’t like this idea. It would of been much easier to blast the Jedi’s shuttle from the sky but no, the Emperor of Scholae Palatinae wanted his head on a stake. The Quarren could see the antechamber ahead and where most of the blinding sunlight flooded, while a group of Hutts, Humans and various aliens discussed their illegal efforts. Qor could sense there was a Jedi in that room, but knowing who and where became difficult and took too much time. The Battlemaster jogged out of sight from the council and behind a row of decorated pillars, where light penetrated less so. It was a good call, because as his back slid against the cold granite wall a lone Human stepped from the antechamber and looked around. He fiddled with collar of his black bomber jacket and slowly looked in Qor’s direction.

With a cocksure smile, the Human whispered, “Looking for me?”

The Quarren matched his face to Turel Sorenn, a known Jedi from Odan-Urr and an undesirable to the Grand Master’s plan. There was no point in hiding anymore, the target found him. Qor walked cautiously from his hiding spot and stood sideways in preparation of combat. The Quarren then spoke. “Turel Sorenn I presume?” The Ranger’s arm quickly whipped up as a ball of white smoke blasted into Qor’s eyes and blinded him momentarily. His face stung irritably as the dust was inhaled into his gills and dehydrated his fragile skin. His eyes clenched as the Quarren grunted out in pain, the dust was extremely annoying and itchy to his eyes which welted up into a teary purple colour. As Qor backed away from the smoke bomb, his leg hit the marble pillar and he fell onto the cold hard ground. A soft chuckle echoed from the corridor as the irritable dust dissipated from his eyes, and Turel came into view. His chuckle came with a warning.

“You cannot win this one, Sith. I’ve dealt with worse than some seafood on two legs.”

“Then how about a fair fight?” The Battlemaster requested, as he returned to normality from the illusion. “One where your fancy parlour tricks are removed and real Force Users prevail, with our lightsabers.” The Ranger chuckled more as he paced around to the side of Qor, who could see he was thinking it over.

“And why would I do that?” Turel crouched down slowly, as he pulled out a blaster from his belt. “That’s not as fun as seeing you squirt and wreck yourself, which reminds me don’t you need to get back into your aquarium soon? You’re crispening like bread crust.” Qor snarled in annoyance of the fish remark, it wasn’t an old joke. But taking trash talk from this weak and pathetic ex-gangster, he wasn’t going to stand for it. The Battlemaster reached onto his belt and yanked out a large sack of credits, gangsters love gambling. By tossing this sack onto the ground, he perceived Turel would too.

“Fifty thousand credits. Plus a box of Corellian cigarras on my ship.” Qor replied, he hoped this would work but Turel’s expression froze as he saw the bag land on the marble flooring. The Ranger took his time to assess the ante, stroking his salt and pepper stubble as his eyes flickered to and fro. Qor looked from the trigger-ready blaster, to Turel’s eyes back again in anticipation. He was feeling uncomfortable in this silence, fidgeting and moving his body as it became numb on the cold marble floor. The Ranger then nodded and tugged the sack towards him with the light side.

“Throw in some whiskey and you have a deal.” The Ranger finally said, Qor was more than agreeable. The duo stood and the Quarren quickly yanked his lightsaber out, snapping the ruby blade to life in readiness. Turel’s amethyst lightsaber came to life and extended outwards, cross-guarding it’s master.

“Agreed, let’s dance.” Qor finally replied and this left the Ranger with a cheeky smile. “Great! So what form do you use?” The Battlemaster charged forward in an aggressive assault, his lightsaber flaying heavily as he roared out in fury. The group from the antechamber began to approach the corridor and mutter chants, while the lightsaber battle commenced. With the Hutts barking out angry remarks and shaking their fists, it was clear fighting would not be tolerated here.

This guy must be the dumbest Inquisitor in the entire Brotherhood if he thinks I’m going to fight fair.

Turel had sensed the Quarren’s malice when he first approached him. Granted, fifty thousand credits was nothing to scoff at, but he had no intention of acquiring said credits through honorable combat. The Jedi’s life was worth far more than that to the Hutts, and near priceless to the Voice and Grand Master. There was no way the Inquisitor would just let him walk away when the “fair fight” was concluded.

Wow, he’s stronger than he looks!

Qor’s wide and rapidly chained saber strikes packed some serious momentum behind them. It was all Turel could do to parry and deflect the blows away with tight orbits of his lavender blade. The Quarren’s saber movements seemed rapid and erratic at first, but it became clear that they were precise and directing at probing the Jedi’s defense. What the Sith lacked in mental prowess, he more than made up with his superior swordsmanship.

Angry Huttese shouts filled the corridor as the host’s retinue of guards drew closer. Turel had no desire to tangle with a squad of heavily armed Weequay for breaching the peace inside the establishment. Jiliac’s Winter Palace had been accorded as neutral ground by the syndicate that currently owned it and fighting was usually bad for business.

The Human’s eyes darted around the room for possible exits as he quickly tried to conjure up a plan in the few moments he had before the private duel became a full scale party. A flash of inspiration struck him as he momentarily centered his focus, channeling the Force into his leg muscles. Then he took off toward the guards, deactivating his saber as he ran.

“Help! Help! This Quarren is an assassin sent here to kill the honorable Vreecha!” Turel exclaimed in Huttese as he ran toward the approaching guards. Qor didn’t quite understand what the Jedi was saying but he could infer from tone and context that the Human was seeking aid.

“What’s going on here?” the senior guard inquired as all but two of his men ran past Turel toward the Sith.

The Jedi subtly waved his now empty right palm at the Weequay as he reached at the guard’s mind through the Force. “I’m not a threat. This man is an assassin. You must apprehend him.”

The guard shook his head and spoke as if half remembering something, “You are not a threat. This man is an assassin. I must apprehend him.”

Turel smiled at his own success. He slowly backed away as all six Weequay guards surrounded the Quarren with vibrostaves pointed at him, barking orders in Huttese for the Sith to lower his weapon.

The Jedi stooped down to pick up the bag of credits from earlier. “Thanks for the donation, tentacle breath!” he taunted in Basic as he took off down the corridor toward the palace shuttle platform.

Qor’s cover was now thoroughly blown so there was no point in subtlety. Drawing on his growing feelings of irritation and wrath toward the fleeing Jedi, he gathered the dark side to him and shifted his saber into his left hand. The Sith pointed his right hand at the guard standing between him and Turel, unleashing violet tendrils of raw Force energy into the hapless Weequay’s chest. The rest of the squad stood with mouths agape, flabbergasted, as their comrade writhed in agony before collapsing to the ground with smoke rising from his armor.

The Sith did not wait for the stunned surprise to wear off his would-be captors before running after the Jedi as fast he could. The lighting blast had drained him slightly but he called upon his rage and the dark side once again to augment his speed. He had to close the distance on the fleeing Odanite. This mission would not end in failure.

The palace’s shuttle platform connected to a ornately decorated hanger bustling with activity. Qor raced into the bay then skidded to a sudden halt as he realized he had lost sight of Turel. His sapphire eyes jumped around the room, searching for a sign of his prey. The Jedi had to be hiding somewhere nearby — this was the only real exit from the premises. Then the Quarren noticed the abundance of astromechs and loader droids bustling about the hanger, all potential tools to uncover and trap the Odanite.