A cesspool of the downtrodden, the Refugee Sector on Nar Shaddaa is home to both the unfortunate and criminals alike. Offering their protection for credits, the criminal organizations that control the sector tax the populace outrageous sums. Unable to provide these fees, refugees are forced to work under hazardous conditions producing glitterstim and adrenals for their overseers. Some of these refugees are addicted to the substances themselves—for which the cartels increase the price of their tithes in exchange for a share of the product.

Crammed with stalls and makeshift hovels, several of the sector’s inhabitants find refuge on the streets and in the alleyways. Those who managed to avoid the dangers of drug production can be found selling their limited and often defective goods to others. Behind these stalls a selective stock of black market wares is hidden, reserved for mercenaries and thugs.

Littered with garbage, it is obvious that no maintenance droids have been programmed to maintain the sector. The surrounding towers have fallen into decay, bits of debris falling every so often into the middle of the street. The duracrete streets are covered in a film of filth and chemicals from the abandoned warehouses, making movement cumbersome when traveling through the most inhabited areas.

Patrols armed with blasters and vibroswords come through these areas regularly, making a show of force to advertise the merits of their ‘protection’ while extorting the occasional shopkeeper. Screams and shouts are a common enough sound, which is never in the refugees’ best interests to interfere in.

The flea-bitten mongrels cowered against their decrepit walls as the Sith passed before them. In their ignorance they knew not what he was, but that his mere presence brought a feeling of dread and sorrow. Compounded with their own struggles it only fed their self-loathing and they dug into shredded pockets hoping for the comforting touch of their poison of choice. A few braver than most, veterans in the violence of the alley, eyed the Zabrak. Whether as a potential client, or a victim, he neither knew nor cared about. His only concern was for the Togrutan he was following.

Abadeer Taasii. The Battleteam leader of the Apostles of Syn. A position that should have been Kul’s. Years of solitary loyalty to House Karness Muur ignored when the Dread Lord presented Kul with his seal of office. The choice to move them between houses was strange at first, but the idea slowly became clear. The Dread Lord wished to quell any harsh feelings amongst the Houses to produce a solidified front. A wise choice considering the bold move against Odan-Urr. But Kul could not escape the resentment that ached in the recess of his mind.

The Zabrak grew a frown as he felt a rough tug on his cloak, and his orange eyes stared coldly at the being before him. A small creature, the frail human stood a couple feet shorter than the Zabrak, mostly due to a developed hunch in his walk. The thick, ragged cloak he bore hid any obvious signs of aggression. His presence hinted at no danger, but Kul stood wary, waiting for the purpose of the intervention. The scraggly beard on the human’s wrinkled face contorted as he forced wind through his abused lungs.

“Can I...interest you in some fine spice, stranger? A relaxing...elixir to accompany your meal, perhaps?”

Kul eyed the man, his placid face devoid of any sympathy for the dealer’s obvious lack of nutrition. Such a creature would have been cast aside from any tribe on Iridonia, where strength of body and will made an alpha male. The tiny frame shivered, not from fear but of a lack of vital necessities to his psychology. An abuser of whatever it was he wanted to finagle Kul into buying. His silence only fed the man’s confidence.

“The silent type, eh? Need some convincing do ye? Why, I have--”

His voice caught as the Zabrak’s crushing grip threatened to throttle him then and there. Kul lifted the man kicking into the air, all while staring deep into his eyes, which remained permeated with a foggy film. With no hesitation, the Sith jerked his forearm, cleanly snapping the man’s neck. An instant death, much better than the scum deserved. The body flopped to the dust, effectively clearing the street of the weaker-minded addicts when the others saw what had transpired. A soothing silence took over as the bustle of the night street life dimmed down into nothing but the faint whispers of the wind as it passed through the alleys. Kul felt a shiver begin to rise from the nape of his neck, and thinking it just the wind tightened his cloak. As he turned to continue his hunt, he nearly bowled over someone standing behind him. A quick glance told Kul who it was. The montrals stuck out in the darkness of the street with their blaring whiteness.

I must have gotten careless and telegraphed my presence, Kul thought disappointedly to himself.

“Drol. What brings you out here?” The arrogant smile that played on the white, tear-shaped bags beneath his eyes denoted that he was most likely aware already.

“Was out for a stroll, thought I’d stop by. See what kind of Shadow you really are. Nice to know your not so inept you realize when you’re being followed.”

The Togruta’s grin shortened slightly at the remark, but he kept his cool overall. He waved a hand towards Kul.

“That means a lot coming from you, considering you weren’t aware I was behind you just now.”

The Zabrak sneered at the sarcasm dripping from Abadeer’s tone. The air thickened with the pressure of both egos as tensions mounted. A few breaths past before Abadeer spoke again.

“Listen, Kul, I know how you might feel about this, but the decision was made by the Dread Lord himself. Don’t push your luck more than you already have. Go home, and focus on leading your team now.”

Abadeer saw the spark in Kul’s eye as he finished speaking. The Zabrak grew cold, and his gaze took on the look of a beast eyeing its next meal. His hands curled into shaking fists and his feet dragged him to purpose. He edged towards the Togruta, his body swaying in time to some internal beat. He began to flank Abadeer, forcing him to focus on where the first strike might come from.

“So you want to travel this road, Kul? Fine, I will show you where it ends.”

The two Battleteam Leaders glared at each other, all of their respective focus given only to the other. Kul’tak continued to circle his counterpart, looking for an opening in Abadeer’s defenses. Taasii didn’t need to turn to follow the intimidating figure that was Kul’tak Drol. Even while the Zabrak was behind his back, Abadeer was able to follow his each and every movement with his echolocation.

As Kul’tak finished circling his opponent, he dropped into a ready stance, bringing his lead arm up to protect his face, and started dancing about. Taasii recognized the impending threat and brought himself to bare, he wouldn’t allow himself to be caught off guard. The first move was Drol’s, as he leapt from the ground, spinning to bring a heavy kick towards the Togruta’s head. Taasii seamlessly blocked the strike with both arms, and shoved back. His counter strike was quick to follow, a quick jab to the sternum. Kul’tak blocked the blow, and thrust his open palm right into Abadeer’s jaw.

The strike was powerful, and sent the Togruta reeling backwards, his senses somewhat disoriented for a moment. He regained his posture quickly, crouching low to minimize his own target, ready for a series of blows that didn’t come. Drol glared at his opponent, still in a ready stance. Abadeer knew he was at a disadvantage here, hand to hand combat was not his specialty. On top of that, the Zabrak was just as fast, and considerably stronger than himself. Taasii went for his only option, and drew out his lightsaber. His stance changed, his body turned more the side and blade at the ready.

Kul’tak was unfazed by the appearance of the deadly weapon, and merely waited for the Togruta to make the first move. It was a mistake to not draw his lightsaber. Abadeer could see a slight change in Drol’s stance, recognizing that the Zabrak would try to disarm him. Not allowing Kul’tak the chance, Taasii lead with a powerful telekinetic shove from his off hand, then leapt forward to attack with his violet blade. Though shoved backwards Kul’tak retained his balance and quickly drew out his own lightsaber, crimson clashing against purple, lighting up the dark street. Many of the residents had fled as soon as the intimidating combatants had started their duel, but now with the drawing of the iconic and deadly weapons, all of the street dwellers had fled. The only remaining inhabitants were Abadeer and Kul’tak.

The two Sith clashed, strikes being deflected, counters being parried. In this portion of the duel, Abadeer felt a slight advantage over his opponent. He recognized that Drol’s combat style was that of Jar’kai, but the Zabrak did not have a second blade needed to truly bring out the strengths that were in his form. Taasii recognized that if the second blade were in play, that he would be at much less of an advantage. Kul’tak was still bringing heavy attacks trying to batter the Togruta, but Abadeer avoided or parried every strike. He didn’t allow himself to be caught in the danger of losing too much stamina with the heavy handed blows.

Dark amber eyes pierced each other, the obvious taint of the Dark side evident. Neither would back down from this fight, but at the same time neither could tell how it would end. While Abadeer had a slight advantage, Kul’tak was swift enough to block or dodge any incoming attacks and ripostes. Taasii’s mastery of his chosen style was too tight for Drol to land any hits. This did not deter the fighters, as they clashed together yet again, deadly weapons lighting up the night.