On the fringes of the Outer Rim territories and famous for being the one-time location of the Rebel Alliance, Hoth is a frigid world marred with fissures created from the tidal pull of Hoth’s three moons. Blanketed in a frozen ocean, massive oceanic currents beneath the southern hemisphere are the cause of constant seismic activities that result in a constantly shifting landscape of tunnels and caves.

Buried into the side of a fissure reaching hundreds of meters into the core of the planet is a network of tunnels leading into a cave. Its sole entrance is suspended within the wall of the fissure, requiring one to rappel down the dangerous crevasse and into the tunnels; one small miscalculation could send explorers descending the rest of the unmeasured height deep within the planet’s core.

Insulated under several hundred meters of ice in all directions, the cave is protected against the gale force winds and the intense snowstorms that sweep along the planet’s surface. As a result, the cave is warmer than most of Hoth’s unforgiving cold with melting icicles dangling precariously overhead. In turn, this allows for more life to grow in addition to being a promising habitat for the hulking wampas that have been trapped this far below the surface. Beginning to thaw, it is obvious that this cave will eventually fall victim to seismic activity and disappear into the sheets of ice that surround it. Illuminating the cave’s interior with a dull blue glow, the luminous forms of lichen have taken up residence among the bones of the creatures unfortunate enough to be trapped here.

Caution must be exercised if one is to navigate the slippery slopes of the cave as melted icicles drip onto the cavern’s floor surface. In one corner of the cave, the ocean water has accumulated to form a large pool, providing sustenance to the rare lumni-spice growing within the crystalline complex, never to see the blue-white sun.

Drip. Drip. Drip...

Pure crystalline water fell in a steady rhythm of droplets from the menacing icicles looming from what passed for a ceiling within the icy cavern. The liquid caught the dull glow of the lichen growths as it fell, refracting the light in a shimmering cascade that darted around the cave. Even this far down, the storm raging on the surface could be heard as an echoing roar bouncing through the winding paths to the waiting ears of those within.

A threatening growl from somewhere deeper seemed to answer the echo but never drew closer. Whatever produced the sound appeared to be content where they were for the moment. That fact suited the bundled form huddled within the cavern just fine. Pale, pointed ears stood prominently against the dark strands of hair that peaked out from the trappings of the clearly Tusken robes. The tribal markings were a declaration of her tribe, though none other than her people would recognize them. The armor intermingled amongst the fabric was the Sephi's own additions and marked her as something more... something dangerous. Outwardly, she seemed unphased by the cold as her blank, almost unblinking stare flit between the various openings that surrounded her, but inside she was thankful for what small warmth she had found there. Her Tuk'ata companion was similarly thankful, having curled in upon itself at her side. A mechanical hand rose from beneath her snow-dusted cloak and fell against the Tuk'ata's side in a rare show of affection.

Well, it would have been rare if the recipient had been anything other than the loyal beast. Creatures, as always, remained the Sephi's favoured companions over any so-called sentient species. She may have been many things — from One Sith to Aedile of House Marka Ragnos — but she would always remain an adherent of traditions. Ophelia Delacroix was determined to honor her Tusken upbringing. Yet, she now found herself hiding from the unforgiving storms of Hoth, an ice planet distant from any civilization worth mentioning. It was a far cry from the sun-bleached sands of Tatooine.

What had brought her there was even stranger. The Rollmaster of Naga Sadow, Marcus Kiriyu, was not one prone to bringing tasks directly to the members of House Summit. No, he preferred to keep to the Journeymen themselves, and his own machinations. That was fine enough seeing as Ophelia had little interest in playing such games. She hadn't survived the One Sith and placed herself within the ranks of the Dark Brotherhood without at least that much survival instinct.

Yet the request had been tendered to the Quaestor of Marka Ragnos and, by way of Tasha'Vel, fell on Ophelia to comply. The Sephi couldn't help but wonder exactly what she had done to deserve such cruelty before her body once more gave way to a series of teeth clattering shudders in an attempt to generate further warmth. It certainly wasn't inclining the woman towards becoming more 'sociable' with her Clanmates.

Travel to these coordinates on Hoth and await the contact.

That had been the request that took Ophelia from the safety of the Orian System — and the might of the Sadowan Warhost — and into the frozen tundra. By all rights it had better be worth it because there was no way in Malachor that she would be able to justify it any other way.

A cloud of breath formed in the space in front of Ophelia as she let out a long sigh. Her pale, almost sickly colored fingers reached up to brush the last remnants of frost from her eyebrows before becoming utterly still. The Tuk'ata beside her growled quietly as it rose with its spines bristling. Fangs flashed as its mouth began to open and its jowls visibly quivered along with the threatening sound. Ophelia's gaze was locked on the climbing rope dangling through the opening of the fissure high in the glacial wall as it swayed back and forth from a sudden weight on the line.

Was it the contact... or some*thing* else? The former One Sith drew her trappings tighter around her in an attempt to gather what warmth she could. It never hurt to be prepared after all. Her talon-fingered prosthetic remained assuringly affixed to the Tuk'ata's side, a subtle act to keep the beast from charging unnecessarily. A large form clad in a black cloak came into view and Ophelia instantly reached out with her senses. She felt the cold, familiar taint of the dark side swell within her before pushing tendrils of focus towards the descending being and felt... nothing.

More like next to nothing, at least. Ophelia sensed that this man was no Force sensitive, but he did have a partial affinity for the light. It was a feeling she had experienced more than once in the presence of Clan Naga Sadow's Proconsul, Sanguinius. The sensation never failed to make the Aedile want to gag. This man, at least, was subtle enough for her to stomach. Ophelia just needed to retrieve whatever intel the newcomer had to offer and she could be on her way, and free of Hoth.

At least, that's what she thought until the man's black boots crunched into the snow covered floor of the cavern and he turned to face her. His face was expressionless, cold, and quite similar to what she saw in the mirror every morning.

It was the face of a man who would kill without so much as blinking.

Immediately, Ophelia's senses and perception were at odds with each other. She knew what she felt when she reached out in the Force, and yet what she saw was far too familiar to be ignored... and Ophelia was too intelligent not to trust what she recognized there.

"I expected Tasha'Vel," the man stated plainly. A soft lilt, nearly imperceptible, somehow softened his words but the chill was as unmistakable as the cold of Hoth itself. His black gloved left hand rose from beneath his cloak and pushed his hood back to reveal messy, near black hair pulled back into a ponytail. His fingers ran along his tightly trimmed beard as his gray, gold-flaked eyes took in Ophelia and her Tuk'ata. "Her Aedile then, I presume?"

"And you are?" Ophelia asked the man. Her voice was low and filled with the promise of violence. The man paused, as if the answer required a concerted effort to ascertain, then dropped his hand to the side and turned his gaze to take in the finer details of the cavern without replying. Ophelia was too new a Sadowan to have recognized the supposedly fallen former Quaestor of Shar Dakhan. If it had been Tasha'Vel in her place, Atra Ventus would require no introductions whatsoever.

As it was, Atra had fallen off the grid before settling into his role as Praetor to the Voice, and had remained reclusive in that regard. At least until his hand was forced. "Your clan has caused the deaths of many Inquisitors, Aedile," Atra continued, as if Ophelia had never spoken. "Actions have consequences."

The former One Sith snarled in kind with her Tuk'ata as the hilt of her saberstaff pressed into her palm. The unmistakable hum of the plasma blades filled the space around them after they hissed to life. The weapon's red glow danced across the icy surface of the walls while Ophelia focused on the obvious threat. Clearly, the Praetor cared little for subtlety. It would have been a refreshing change of pace if it hadn't been so clear a threat. Ophelia reached out towards the man and took hold of her power once more. She revelled in the chilling presence that surged through her before commanding it to slither like snakes through the avenues of Atra's mind.

The Praetor's eyes danced between the Tuk'ata and Ophelia with predatory focus, but something began to feel... off. Doubt was the first crack in his mental armor. It was doubt in his purpose there, a wavering of his resolve. What if he couldn't do what he knew needed to be done no matter how unpalatable it may seem? Uncertainty gave way to fear. The fear of failure was always one of the most primal that loomed within the subconscious of most sentients.

Atra's focus was split — that much he knew — between his self-control and concealing his abilities. That created a handicap the former One Sith had unknowingly capitalized upon. Closing his eyes, the Umbaran pushed back at the looming threat within his own mind. He released the bindings he had placed upon himself and felt the power swelling to the surface once more.

The shock to his system was like diving into a glacial pool, burning and chilling in equal parts as it coursed through his body. The Praetor took a metaphorical hold of that power and channeled it into his control, his sense of self. He crashed it against the clawing tendrils of Ophelia's presence that threatened to push him into the depths of terror, forcing control upon the dominion of his mind.

Ophelia's hand snapped back and a look of surprise flashed for a moment upon her tattooed face. She had expected some resistance to her machinations, but nothing like this. In that instant, the Aedile knew she had been taken in by a false sense of security. A confidence in her senses that had failed to gleam Atra's true nature. There was no mistaking the dark side of the Force. It had its own distinctive flavor, as it were.

Atra's right arm shifted beneath his cloak as his fingers slipped around the familiar weight of his lightsaber. The synthetic crystal coating the hilt provided firm grooves for his fingers to slip into before closing tightly around the weapon. He unclipped it from his belt and pushed the cloak back with a roll of his shoulder. Goosebumps rippled across his pale flesh as his scarred arm was exposed to the elements with nothing but gray fabric wrapped around his forearm. His thumb passed over the red activator and ignited the weapon. The pale, silvery glow of his blade joined the crimson hue of Ophelia's weapon as crackling surges worked up and down along the beam.

Ophelia cursed in a tongue he did not recognize, which caused the Umbaran to tilt his head curiously. Her eyes flicked away for the briefest of moments towards the Tuk'ata as she spoke again in the same tongue, though different words. The beast howled excitedly and charged forward having apparently been given the order to attack. Atra's gloved hand raised in response, making a grasping gesture that was mirrored by the invisible presence of the Force. The Tuk'ata yelped in both surprise and pain as Atra's power constricted around its throat and lifted it slowly into the air. Straightening his head once more, the Praetor sighed before throwing his hand to the side. The beast was sent crashing into the frigid wall with a significantly solid sounding thud before falling through one of the vein-like tunnels reaching deeper towards the core.

Rage flushed through Ophelia in an instant. She could sense the creature was still alive but that only mattered to a rational mind. The Sephi, who had been raised Tusken, just saw her only true companion hurt before her eyes and dealing that pain back to the perpetrator became her only focus. Ophelia stepped forward and threw her body into a tight pivot before tossing her saberstaff forward. As the weapon left her hand she captured it in the Force and directed it towards the object of her anger. The red double-blades spun with such speed they appeared to blur together.

As the blade came ever closer, Atra took a step back in order to present his profile and minimize the target area. A twisting of Ophelia's wrist tugged on the blade mid-air and caused it to arc at an angle, which forced the Praetor to lean awkwardly to avoid harm. Ophelia didn't bother waiting for the weapon to complete its arc and return to her hand. Instead, she reached out with her taloned hand and adjusted her focus, directing the Force using her off hand as a focusing agent while all of her rage was channeled down her right arm. A burst of energy crackled through the air with snaking tendrils of lightning lashing out at her opponent.

Atra's saber flipped upright before him, catching the tendrils with his shielded blade as he fought for better footing on the icy floor. The Sadowan Aedile was still advancing on Atra as she caught her spiraling blade and used the weapon's momentum to pivot about into a lateral spin. Her weapon hummed dangerously through the air before crashing downward upon Atra. His crackling blade caught the leading tip of her oncoming saber and guided it down and to the right before he stepped forward to meet her.

Again Ophelia maintained the momentum of her initial attack using it to carry her unrelenting offense onward. Pivoting to offer her back for the briefest of moments, the Sephi adjusted her grip and brought the bottom blade of her saberstaff around to cleave the Praetor's head from his neck. His vibrant blade met hers once more, forcing a saber lock as he gripped the hilt with both hands against the ferocity Ophelia brought to bear. Their eyes locked momentarily before Atra allowed his arms to buckle slightly and then push hard back against the clash. The act of strength broke their momentary pause as Ophelia danced several steps back.

"I take it those were friends of yours, huh?" Ophelia remarked, referring back to his earlier mention of the Inquisitors.

Atra pivoted once more to face the Sephi fully while holding his overcharged weapon off to the side. "No, just my responsibility," he replied.

Cold.

It was the only thought that kept filtering into Ophelia’s mind. She attempted to keep her focus on the man before her, but it gnawed at her like the teeth of some beast attempting to pull her towards oblivion. Having spent a century on a desert planet this was torture. She ran her eyes quickly across the cavern the two opponents were in before fixating them back on her opponent. The smallest trickles of frost began to form on the tips of Atra’s eyelashes and hair. Neither showed their discomfort, neither budged.

Rage.

The thought entered her head and as it did she moved in. As Ophelia’s right foot stepped forward she stooped forwards and pushed up with the bottom blade of her staff. The blade careened upwards and across the Umbaran’s midriff with force. The half backpedaled, half slid as he moved out of the way of the blade which passed harmlessly by. The Sephi’s body twisted around, momentarily exposing the woman's back to her opponent, but the movement was so quick in itself that Atra made the sensible decision not to take advantage. As Ophelia settled herself she rolled her shoulders and sneered. Frost billowed from her mouth as it opened and she ran her tongue across her canines in annoyance.

Her strikes came quickly and suddenly. An overhead strike from one blade was parried easily by the seer and as she brought the blade up and around the second one came up and thrust forward, her grip changing effortlessly to allow it to carry forwards. A sidestep from the thrust was countered by an overhead swing that would have removed her head had she not brought the thrusted blade downwards and the second blade upright and parallel to her body, blocking the blow before it connected. Using the momentum of the strike and the awkward position it left her in, Atra brought his boot up and swept her feet away from under her.

Ophelia fell but, due to the momentum and the icy conditions, Atra went down with her. A soft blow connected with his side which was repaid in kind by a hammering strike that sent the side of her head jarring. The ice cave swam momentarily and Ophelia simply pushed herself sideways and away from the man, rolling as far as she could before pushing herself to her knees. The second strike came as she pushed up. A right boot to the chin had her back on the floor. Her loosely gripped saberstaff coming free from her hand and slid off to one side and down one of the ice tunnels. A heavy thunk somewhere to her side indicated the kick wasn’t without penalty as once more Atra found himself upon the ground.

They both stayed where they were for what seemed like an eternity. Moments passed and finally Ophelia pushed herself up once more and sat. As her vision came back into focus she turned her head and eyed the Umbaran. Neither said anything but they both had that stare; that look that only people like them had at times like this: I am going to kill you.

She rose, unsteadily and with great difficulty. She grimaced as some of her hair caught in the ice and she yanked it free. She spat a wad of blood and mucus from her mouth. As the goblets of moisture hit the floor a snap-hiss filled the chamber. A silver light washed over them both and illuminated the mutual disdain of both opponents. He lunged, with more grace than the brawl had displayed earlier, towards what he presumed to be an unarmed opponent. The blade swung in aiming to cleave her from shoulder to groin. A second snap hiss echoed around the chamber followed by the whining of two sabers meeting.

Atra blinked. The second saber Ophelia had pulled from her robes cast the same silvery glow of starlight across the chamber as his own. There was no more show of surprises. His two handed strike turned into a one handed reversal into an uppercut which was knocked to the side as he had expected it to be. In turn his fist struck the woman in the chest plate and he unleashed the pent up telekinetic energy he had gathered. Ophelia lifted from her feet momentarily before the wave of Force energy pushed her away from the man. She rolled and skidded, striking an ice column and rebounding, sliding across the cavern floor before coming to a rest gingerly on the edge of one of the ice tunnels.

Her next movement sent her over the edge and down she went. Out of sight and down into the dark of the ice cave. Atra moved to the edge and peered down. The tunnel curved and bent so he was unable to see exactly where she had vanished too. He rubbed the side of his leg which had begun to throb from one of his falls, walked around the edge of the pit, sat himself and slid himself down. He didn’t really have the want or desire to explain to Tasha where her new Aedile had vanished too. Not that he cared really what the little blue alien thought, but… well he’d rather not.

Burning.

The cold and friction had burned her along the organic side of her. Ophelia had shot out of the end of the pit like a rocket. The new cavern was large, which had given her the space needed to dig her cybernetic claws into the ground to stop her momentum. She winced and walked away from the exit. Scuffling, scraping noises emitting from the mouth of the tunnel indicated the Umbaran was making his way down a lot more carefully than she had. Reaching out with the Force she felt a connection she thought she had lost and smiled. A soft growling reached her ears and half bounding, half slipping, her Tuk’ata made it’s way over to her. She knelt down and patted its head in silence, noting the metal hilt in its mouth. Taking her saberstaff from its jaws, she clipped her secondary saber to her belt and turned to face the exit to the pit.

Meanwhile in the tunnel Ophelia had disappeared down Atra managed to hold himself above the last drop into the darkness. He positioned himself and let go, sliding the last few feet. More prepared than Ophelia had been; Atra managed to stop himself just a couple of feet shy of the exit. Pushing himself up he took in his surroundings and raised an eyebrow as he could only take in obscure shapes. His vision should've allowed him to see perfectly in the dark but something was different here. Something had given the darkness more depth. Not enough to blind him but enough to annoy him.

“Darkness? Really. This is the best you can do? This is nothing.” He rolled his eyes and moved towards a shape that stood out from the rest. Something low and rumbling reached his ears. Turning his attention to the right briefly a massive shape loomed into his vision and let out a further low rumbling growl. “An illusion...and a shoddily done one at that.”

He turned away from it and moved back towards his original target. As he neared the shape his focus began to clear and his night vision returned after leaving the Force induced darkness. Standing a few feet in front of him was the Sephi and her beast. His saber reignited, ready for whatever tricks she decided to throw his way. It was then he noticed she wasn’t looking at him but over his shoulder.

It didn’t work.

The thought echoed through her mind. “It didn’t work,” the words escaped her lips and Atra stared at her.

“The darkness? No, of course not. I…” he began to retort to the bewildered Sephi. She raised her finger to her lips and hushed him.

“Not for you… them.” she whispered and pointed over his shoulder. Three looming shapes began moving towards them with all the grace three annoyed wampa’s could make. Ophelia looked at the shapes and back at her opponent.

“We woke them up.”

The only response Atra afforded Ophelia was the raising of one ice-crusted eyebrow as his gaze shifted towards the looming creatures. One wampa was enough of a nuisance on its own, but three would be outright cumbersome. As animals they would react predictably to pain which made them more manageable — a fact that left him wondering why his opponent had bothered with her attempts at trickery. Only the most mindless of beasts would continue an assault after the loss of an arm, for instance.

Whatever the reason, the situation was what it was, so to speak. Keep calm. Maintain control. Those tenants would carry Atra to success... or he would die, though that fact mattered little to him. One could only die so many times before it lost its luster.

Having relegated the wompas to 'nuisance' status, the Praetor's focus shifted back to Ophelia. Her clan had stockpiled a debt of blood with their collective actions against the Inquisitorius. He just so happened to be the collector. As he resumed his advance, the Sephi's pet responded to the immediate threat to its master. Atra's saber arced horizontally through the air as a blur, leaving a crackling trail in its wake, but found only empty air. The Tuk'ata shifted its weight like the lethal predator it was to duck under the oncoming attack before rising within Atra's guard. The Umbaran's left arm came up defensively only to have the creature's fangs bite deep into the cloth covered arm.

Though it was a prosthetic, the limb had been linked to his nervous center as most prosthetics were. He was rather pointedly reminded of that fact as the Tuk'ata's fangs dug into the limb. Atra's teeth ground together as the pain registered like fire up his arm. The sudden action seemed to break Ophelia from her fixation on the wompas. Anger surged through the Sith like a shot of adrenaline as she brought her saberstaff up and engaged the dual blades.

Not to be ignored, the wompas were spurred on by the action as well. The three creatures let out echoing roars that echoed within the icy tunnels in much the same way that the competing glow of the combatants' sabers refracted upon the walls. The Praetor had to act fast or he would be trapped between both threats. His cold power filled his body once more; liquid fire setting his muscles aflame. Planting his feet as best he could, Atra pivoted hard and took the Tuk'ata with him as he came about to face the first of the wompa beasts. The hound released its hold on his left arm in order to bound away from the larger beast and reposition itself to continue the attack.

Now free, Atra hazarded a quick glance down to assess what damage he could see through the torn fabric of his sleeve. He felt his gloved fingers spasm slightly as sparks surged beneath the surface of his synthflesh. That was going to be a problem if the fight grew more arduous. A chill crawled up his spine and demanded his attention, causing Atra to spin about just in time to see Ophelia's dual-bladed saber swinging towards his face. The Umbaran's grip upon his saber's hilt tightened as he swung his arm across his vision like a flail. His crackling tip connected with the leading blade of the Sadowan's weapon and redirected it onward with greater force. The sudden full spin of the blade forced Ophelia's grip upon the hilt to cross arm over arm uncomfortably, locking her up momentarily as Atra's boot kicked hard against it.

The force of the kick caused the woman's arms to buckle at the elbows and knock her back several steps upon the icy surface. Before she could re-engage, the Sadowan had to deal with the suddenly immediate threat of the wompas. Her Tuk'ata maneuvered behind one of the lumbering beasts and leaped onto the wompa's back with its jaws biting viciously at its target's neck.

Meanwhile, Atra was forced to duck and pivot under the oncoming claw of his nearest wompa. He continued the momentum of the move to bring his saber into an upward swing that separated the beast's arm from its body. The pained bellow that followed caused Atra to wince in pain as it was amplified by the tunnel. The wounded creature turned and bounded away from the source of its pain, continuing to bellow as it barreled into the second wompa and forced its way past.

The Tuk'ata growled viciously as it tore at the fur-covered hide of the wompa it had attacked. The beast spun while clawing at its back and leaving red stains upon its own fur as it cut into its attacker. Ophelia's companion disengaged and crouched low allowing the Sadowan's spiraling blade to soar past and cleave through the wompa. The dying beast only managed a partial roar tinged by both surprise and pain before it fell to the ground.

That left one of the native beasts left, who had already been knocked off-balance by the wompa that had fled from Atra's blade. The Praetor reached out with his free hand and tugged on the empty air. His power lashed out in unison with his actions, gripping the beast's leg and pulling it hard upon the uncertain surface of the icy ground. Ophelia's Tuk'ata was on the wompa the moment it hit the ground. A mix of claws and teeth gored the exposed flesh of the fallen beast's throat, leaving it only to howl in pain with its final breaths.

A moment of silence hung heavy upon them as the rush of battle and adrenaline eased from their bodies. The steady growling of the Tuk'ata became the only sound aside from their breathing as it affixed Atra with its predatory glare while viscera dripped from its bared teeth. The Praetor allowed himself a deep breath as his grey-gold eyes flit between the two threats. While the wompas had certainly been a lively threat, they had been merely a distraction. He had arranged this setup for a reason and he had yet to forget his goal.

"It should have been Tasha," Atra remarked quietly. His eyes locked upon Ophelia's but there was no emotion betrayed by his face. "You aren't the one giving the orders. Yet, you will suffer for their decisions."

The Sephi's eyes narrowed once more as she shifted into a ready stance. She spat out a response in the tribal tongue of the Tusken raiders, most likely a grave insult. Sweat clung to her skin beneath the heavy robes she wore while her flushed cheeks betrayed the warmth of her body from the exertion she had expended. Her deep breaths turned to fog before her. Both were aware of the icy cold encapsulating them that was at odds with the heat of their bodies. Even Atra could feel the disparity as a dull pain akin to his skull being crushed.

He hated that feeling.

Holding his saber out to the side, almost casually, Atra resumed his steady march towards Ophelia. An unwavering straight line despite the uneven terrain. The Sadowan reached into the Force once more, though her aim was no longer to delve into the Praetor's fears. Power crackled between her fingers for a moment before she slung her hand towards her attacker. Her Tuk'ata attacked in the same moment, bringing two threats to bear upon Atra simultaneously.

The Umbaran was forced to sidestep the sudden discharge. He half-slid out of the way with quick steps that carried him towards the oncoming hound. This time, as the beast lunged, he brought his saber inward defensively. The tip seared through the beast's side as it was unable to redirect itself in time. A yelp of pain escaped the Tuk'ata as the pain surged through its nervous system. A swift kick to the beast's head as a follow up resulted in a sickening crack that instantly brought Ophelia to a rage as the beast stilled upon the cavern floor.

It was the second time the Praetor had brought grievous harm to the respected pet in front of her, and the Sith had no intentions of allowing it to happen ever again. Holding her dual-bladed saber before her with the lower tip carving a melting path through the ground, Ophelia charged to meet Atra. Blade met blade as he was forced back from the fallen Tuk'ata. He shifted left, then right, as two quick slashes cleaved the air to either side of him. Though noticeably strong in the Force, the Sadowan had an obvious weakness growing ever more dire. A ticking time bomb against her.

She was exhausted.

The confined quarters of the smaller tunnel they had moved into from the main cavern caused an unavoidable close-up encounter for the pair. While more than capable of holding her own, the raw nature of Juyo had become as much a danger as it was a boon. She brought strike after strike, unrelenting, against the Praetor but his athleticism persisted in a way hers could not. Ophelia spun several times in a desperate flurry, bringing her blade high, then low, then high again. The deadly red plasma of her weapon scorched through the billowing fabric of Atra's robe, but never contact with his flesh. That was bad, but hardly the worst of it.

The worst part was that she was slowing down.

Atra's ghostly blade came down hard in an overhead strike that connected with her blade. The force of the contact pushed the saberstaff downward, which Ophelia attempted to use to her advantage as she brought the other side of her weapon around for the lethal blow. Atra, however, hadn't committed to the saber lock and bounced his weapon off of hers. He converted the momentum into a hopping pivot back even as the red tip of her blade found a point of contact in his side. It was a glancing blow, but the searing pain was staggering. Latching onto his power, he willed his nerves to quiet. He pushed the pain to the back of his mind and trapped it there — differing the distraction for another time though a concentrated act of control.

The Praetor completed his maneuver and brought his weapon to bear upon Ophelia once more. The overcharged blade severed her left arm diagonally at the bicep, sparks and wiring glowing orange at the point of contact before the sudden heat dissipated. Ophelia cried out in pain but was suddenly silenced as she felt a gloved hand wrap around her throat. Her now strangled cry continued as she clawed at his damaged arm. His bottom two fingers spasmed against her throat, but the remaining grip merely tightened more around her pale flesh.

Crimson streaks appeared on the Umbaran's pale cheek as Ophelia's frantic clawing reached wildly for him, staining the nails of her remaining arm. The Praetor winced, having to bite his lip to remain focused. The combined heat of their bodies stopping his sweat from freezing upon his skin as it dripped down his face and stung his eyes — yet his grip was maintained. His saber pierced her shoulder and protruded out the other side, causing agony to override her system. To her credit, Ophelia continued to kick out at the Umbaran as she was simply unwilling to give in. The honor of her tribe demanded it.

With a final act of brutish force, Atra brought his head forward hard. Their skulls cracked together and the lights went out so to speak for the Sephi. The Praetor had to release his grip as her body slumped, leaving her to fall to the ground as his vision was clouded by sporadic spots. The pain he had been holding back washed over him and Atra had to grip his side gingerly. Yet another scar for his collection.

Collapsing for a moment to collect himself, Atra took in a deep and gasping breath of air. It washed over him and felt almost refreshing as he pushed back at his connection to the Force — muting it. His task wasn't yet over, and he had one last thing to do.

The Sadowans could be useful to the cause, if they would just remember their allegiance wasn't to the light or those who dwelled within it. The cancer had to be removed. The message must be sent. He reached into his robes and produced an emergency transponder that he had retrieved from the Sadowan Rollmaster. Marcus continued to be a man of many masters, despite his clan affiliation — survival being the chiefest among them. Atra placed a datapad alongside the transponder before activating the device.

The Praetor groaned before stumbling to his feet in a fight to find his footing. Ophelia would survive, if the wompas didn't come back, but the datapad and at the very least her remains would be found by the intended recipients. The Umbaran was content in at least that much as he navigated his way out of the tunnel and back to the fissure he had used to gain entrance. He would be returning to the Voice with his mission complete, and his message received.

Choose your enemies wisely, lest they bring ruin unto you.

Kill.

She moved past the Umbaran and made a beeline to the left as the hulking beasts made their own way towards the two combatants. Her twin blades erupted from their hilt and she had to concentrate to keep herself from slipping on the icy floor once more. Three throaty roars ripped through the cavern and rebounded off the walls filling the space with noise. She ignored it as the waves of violent intent washed over her. Atra had likewise moved, but around from the other direction to her own, his silver saber illuminating the near darkness that they had both found themselves in.

Ophelia found herself some forty feet away from the creatures before the Sephi unleashed an arc of lightning from the tips of her fingers. It crackled through the air and impacted upon the wampa, screeching in pain. The beast bared it’s fangs and turned it’s attention fully to the woman who dared assault it. Rushing her at full pelt she had to dodge it’s first swing to avoid her head leaving her shoulders.

Her Tuk’ata impacted into the side of the wampa and it’s strength bore them both to the ground for all of a few seconds. They rolled across the ice, gnashing and ripping at one another before impacting upon an ice stalagmite, sending the two of them apart. Ophelia moved as the impact landed and pushed herself forward as fast as she dared upon the ice. As the wampa attempted to clamber to it’s feet she swung in and up before arching her saber around. The first blade cleaved off the creature's hand whilst the second caught it straight across and through the face.

As the beast remained still, she turned her attention to the other two, which were moving upon her opponent. Silver lightsaber crashed into and then through the smaller of the two wampas’ chests. Atra yanked it back out in an arc cleaving the creature from chest to neck. As it reacted to the strike his fist impacted against it in the same way it had Ophelia earlier. The force of the blow sent the creature back and away from him whilst the last creature moved in with an overhead swing. The Umbaran dived backwards turning his momentum into a roll before bringing himself once more to his feet. The wampa moved in swinging twice, both nimbly dodged, before letting out a roar of pain as Ophelia let loose a second torrent of lightning that wrapped itself around the creature bringing it to its knees.

Atra’s saber flashed and the creature's head departed its shoulders. Looking up towards the Sephi he grunted.

“A distraction, now shall we continue?” he had to dive out of the way as Ophelia hurled her saber towards him. Once more the spinning blades carved a path through the ice before him then over and around him. A misstep due to his damaged leg cost him a strike across the shoulder which sent a sting of agony soaring through his body but he gritted his teeth and simply growled lightly. Once more the saber arced it’s way towards him but he brought his saber down and around deflecting it and knocking it’s trajectory to the side.

Turning his attention to the sorcerer he observed the simple grin upon her lips as both hands erupted with the Force. Lightning flashed across the space between them but not aimed at the Umbaran. The spinning saber had made cuts, strikes and gouges in the ice around him and upon a nearby pillar. His gaze followed the lightning as it tore the gaps apart in a torrent of abuse the natural encasement couldn’t handle.

“My apologies. I do not lose. If you wish to kill, then I ensure none leave.” the Sephi muttered. Ice fell from the cavern ceiling, part of the wall began to crumble and they both had to sidestep falling debris. Stalactites worked themselves loose and shattered upon the cavern floor as they fell. A tugging at her leg had her look down as her companion nuzzled her and began to push her away from the impact zones. She tilted her head, sighing, in Atra’s direction and turned her back to him. She cautiously moved herself away from the area, quickening her pace as cracks began to appear in the floor. The noise became deafening and yet she refused to turn and see what had become of the Umbaran. He wasn’t her problem. Escape was.

It took her nearly half an hour to find the entrance to the cave the wampas had used. Following her nose more than anything he came upon the carcass of rotting tauntauns and other smaller creatures. She walked past them without a glance, taking a deep breath as the ice cold air of Hoth impacted against her.

Cold.

How she hated this planet.