Located on Sepros, the ancient Temples of Orian have served as the home for Clan Naga Sadow since the Exodus. In particular, the Temple of Sorrow was selected to become the base of operations for all of Clan Naga Sadow. The Temple has been rebuilt upon a once withered base, creating a hybrid of ancient stone and current era technology.

Within the shroud of Sepros' jungles, the spire of the Temple stands tall and menacing. It is constructed at the heart of a large clearing within the trees, with an impressive courtyard flanking it. The courtyard itself is a testament to the ancient origins of the Temple, littered with remains of the previous temple. Vines grow like slithering snakes throughout the crumbling architecture as if trying to strangle what stone remains and drag it into the dirt once more. Moss coats the stones in defiance to the elements that have stripped the stone bare throughout the courtyard. A grand staircase leads from the grassy ground to the main entrance, with secondary platforms on either side that house landing platforms. Several transport shuttles are settled upon the platforms in varying states of readiness as droids see to their maintenance.

Inside the Temple lies the main hall. The walls are shaped from a marble-like structure with elegant, flowing curves as if molded in clay. Columns line the walls leading away from the entrance towards the central chambers, supporting a balcony that stretches along the walls of the hall as a second level. Multiple corridors are seen between the columns, leading towards the Temple proper. Within these pathways reside the quarters many call home, in addition to various training rooms and small libraries.

This is the Temple of Sorrow, the heart of Clan Naga Sadow.

Barely any place in the galaxy had such a long and rich history, its aura drowned out every thought not related to its purpose. The Temple of Sorrow was one such place, dedicated to power, demanding servitude and sacrifice for thousands of years now. Home and central to Clan Naga Sadow, it promoted a no-nonsense, sinister behavior in its occupants and guards.

There were few places in the universe Jorm Na’trej would have been more out of place. Clad in a vibrant rainbow-colored shirt contrasted by olive cargo pants and black boots, the Kiffar sat on the floor beside the flight field-side entrance with his back against the outside wall. His gaze wandered over and through the droids and mechanics conducting their maintenance, smiling absently. At times, he would break out in laughter and shove a handful of some local, crunchy, crops-based snack from a large paper bucket into his mouth. His left hand never left the ground, feeling around the dark stone smoothed by millennia of weather and use. This is how Shadow Nighthunter found him, and she was not amused.

“Get up,” she said as she kicked at his boot, “we’re leaving.”

“Feel free to skip ahead. I’ll catch a ride later.” Even with his mind absent, he noticed it was not the answer she wanted to hear.

“Sure.” The pointy-eared woman stretched the word out. “The way I know you, you’ll steal a ship. From our erstwhile allies here.”

She shook her head in disapproval. “Not going to happen, Jorm.”

“Oh, come on, Shads!” The nickname made Shadow recoil. “This place has seen so much violence over the eons, even focusing on the highlights I’ve barely managed to see the first eight centuries. There’s more than forty left! I’ll never be able to catch up if we leave now,” he complained.

She studied him closely, observing his eyes not tracking anyone or anything physically present. From the corner of his eye, he noticed realization creeping over her face. She glanced around before leaning in closer.

“You treat this place like your personal holo-recorder? Pillage its memories?” Shadow asked in a low growl. Jorm shifted around, trying to look behind her.

“Only the best fights, everything else has faded. Would you mind stepping out of the picture? That one guy, Darth I-can’t-pronounce-that is about to throw down with his apprentices...” he said as he tried to shoo her away. He really wanted to see this part.

His efforts were cut short by a sharp slap, loud enough to turn the eyes of the distant Sadowan personnel. Shutting his eyes for a second and letting the pain wash over him, he briefly clenched his teeth in a flash of anger before he returned to the present and fixed his smiling gaze on the Battlemaster.

“You rang?” acknowledged Jorm as he gave her his trademark smirk.

“Get to our shuttle, before you get us into real trouble. How do you think the Sadowans will react when they find out about your... voyeurism?” Shadow hissed.

“I imagine the ensuing carnage will be fun. Want a part?” Jorm quizzed in reply.

Shadow sighed, exasperated. Taking a step back, she tugged her dark robes into place and felt for the lightsabers on her belt.

“Jorm. I will not let you damage the Clan’s vital interests with your stunts here. And if that costs us some face, I’ll gladly pay that price. Get. To. The. Shuttle.” Her voice was thick with a flaring temper, barely held level by pure power of will.

The order triggered the Kiffar’s fighting spirit. Jumping to his feet, he came face to face with the shorter woman and lifted the hem of his shirt, stuffing it behind the baton pouch which held his saber on the left hip. Jorm freed his mind from his latest pastime and tugged at his mental leashes, letting them slip for the sake of fun.

“You’re not my supervisor,” remarked Jorm as he forced his snack bucket over her head and doused the young woman in salty, fluffy, sticky snacks.

“Make me.”

The half-Sephi cocked her eyebrow, glad that her hood was still on to protect her from the Kiffar’s snack barrage. “I don’t think you would like me to, Jorm.”

“Did I not just tell you too?” Jorm retorted with a smirk. “Obviously I wish for it, Shads. Go ahead! Give me your best shot!”

Shadow narrowed her glowing eyes. “We don’t have time for this foolishness, Jorm, and the Clan doesn’t need to add your tomfoolery to its growing problems.”

“Tomfoolery? I may be foolish, but my name definitely isn’t Tom,” the Sith warrior retorted with a sense of pride in his answer.

The assassin couldn’t help but scowl as she grabbed both of her sabers. Normally, patience was something she never had an issue with, but the Kiffar was really starting to get to her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling the frustration away. As she reopened her golden eyes, she grinned slightly.

“You really are trying to start a fight, aren’t you? Well, I don’t think I’ll give you the satisfaction, Kiffar,” she said with amusement, the woman giving the man a tantalizing look.

“Well, my true satisfaction would be to get back to what I was doing before you so rudely interrupted me. That’s just not mannerly, now is it?”

“Perhaps, but I could honestly care less,” Shadow said as she took a step back with her fingers on the activation buttons of her blades. “Now, let’s get back to the shuttle without a fuss. No need to attract more attention than we already have.”

The Sith turned to leave, only to turn around and find the Kiffar gone. She couldn’t help but chuckle as a grin appeared on her face. “Oh you really are asking for it.

Suddenly, her red blades came to life as she twisted around and crossed her blades, finding Jorm behind her with a childish grin on his face as his neck was spared only a few centimeters from her sabers. “Shall we play?”

Shadow took a step back while retracting her sabers from Jorm’s throat. “Let us dance, Jester.”

“Yes, let’s,” Jorm agreed.

The two Sith both shuffled backwards and began to circle each other slowly. Jorm quickly ignited his own lightsaber and flipped towards Shadow, bringing his blade overhead as he landed and stuck at her defenses. The Battlemaster had managed to catch his yellow blade in her her crossed red ones, and she quickly spun out of the lock with her blades rhythmically following her twisting body. Her eyes glowed with the dark side, she quickly launched herself at Jorm with a quick series of blows. Each time she twisted, spun, and struck in a deadly and yet graceful dance . It was only when she knew that she needed to conserve her energy did she suddenly jump back with her blades held forth in defence.

“Your turn, Kiffar.”

Jorm happily obliged. “Thought you’d never ask!”

Darting forward, he swung at her left shoulder to exploit what he guessed to be her weak side. Her blade hissed and buckled under the impact as she parried, but delayed his strike all the same while Shadow brought her right saber around in the same movement, slashing at Jorm’s wrists.

Quite infatuated with his hands, the taller man retracted his blade far enough to narrowly parry her counterattack, then broke contact with a quick pirouette backwards. He finished the twist with a flat strike at her prominent saber, knocking it across her body and following with a thrust at her exposed elbow.

Almost even before the fact, betraying either prescience or inhuman reflexes, she spun on the spot, shifting her arm out of harm’s way. This repositioned her left for a thrust of her own aimed at his gut.

Jorm already pushed off with his left-foot toes before her stab gained momentum. With a celerity she just could not compensate for, he launched himself to the right and flanked the woman. She gave a startled yelp as her crimson blade passed harmlessly under his outstretched arms and narrowly missed his left side.

Her right blade came up between her head and Jorm’s weapon. He whirled his yellow saber over his head in response, creating a short-lived halo, and brought it down from the opposite direction, in her dead angle and on her craned neck.

Except he didn’t. He wanted to, at least to singe her skin, but he suddenly locked up completely. His heartbeat, unmonitored up to this point, suddenly spiked and drummed in his ears. Stone-cold shivers ran over his back and spread from there. The sensation wiped the ever-present smile from his face.

He was utterly surprised. What had happened? Had he finally managed to jam a nerve with his acrobatics? And what about those last few seconds had been so extraordinarily acrobatic that it could jam a nerve in the first place? Was he getting old?

All these thoughts became insignificant when he noticed Shadow watching him from the corner of her golden eye, the slightest smirk on her face - and pivoting to bring her sabers to bear. She whispered a single word. “Hush.”

Jorm’s mind was reduced to pure instinct. The fight-or-flight reflex he usually didn’t comprehend after ‘fight’ made its other half forcefully known, and his body violently jerked away from the Battlemaster. Without any grace, he just backpedaled until his feet caught on each other and he fell.

What threatened to make him a laughingstock and easy prey turned into an impromptu backflip and safe landing as decades of muscle memory kicked in. The same mechanism spread a smile on his face again, and the familiar act reestablished a bit of his conscious mind.

A quick glance at Shadow sent more shivers down his spine, and he realized that the fear chilling his bones was not truly his own. It came from her. He even knew the basics of the technique.

Armed with this insight, Jorm took a deep, trembling breath... and expelled it in booming laughter. It was his eternal defense against a hostile universe, and each syllable drove the cold from his bones and Shadow’s mental fingers from his mind. It even drove Shadow a step back, cutting her follow-up attack short.

He sought and held her golden gaze, shaking his head with a cocky smile. “Nice one. Really gives me the tickles. Honestly, I feared this little scrap would be boring.” Shadow snorted. “Are you satisfied yet? Ready to come and leave this place without more fuss?” Jorm inclined his head. “Just what hit your head and gave you that stupid idea? Before you and I share a space tin can with each other, we should seriously...” - He stretched his empty left hand towards her - “hug it out.”

And with a wave of his hand, he grasped her in his mental fingers and pulled her close by her robe’s collar.

Shadow scowled as she let the man levitate her through the air. “Of all people I had to have with me today, it had to be you. I should’ve had Tarsus come with me.”

Jorm laughed and shook his head before he quickly wrapped his arms around the Sith in a tight hug. “Well, what’s wrong with a simple hug? Besides, you should be glad! Haven’t you ever heard it’s best to keep your enemies closer?”

The Battlemaster rolled her eyes, the woman having extinguished both blades before dropping them on the ground. “Well, you want to know something, Jorm?”

“Well, sure. Why not?” the Kiffar said as he grinned at her, still not letting go.

“Bringing opposites together scientifically creates an attraction, but mathematically...” Shadow slowly squeezed her hand between them and up to his chest. “Opposites do not create a positive,” she finished as Force lightning danced between her fingers and unto Jorm’s torso.

The Kiffar’s body convulsed and was sent flying back against a pillar. He tried to regain control of his spasming muscles and locked joints. His widened eyes were locked on Shadow, the man looking like a crazed fiend with his electrified hair and a frozen grin on his face. He tried to talk, but Shadow cared not as she picked up her sabers on the floor and twirled the hilts in her fingers.

Her eyes lit up with amusement as the Sith approached the Kiffar, and she quickly slammed the hilt in her right hand against a now recovering Jorm’s cheek. “Had enough, joker boy?”

The Kiffar placed his hand to rub his cheek, though he did so while being zapped by static. “Well, talk about an exhilarating blast of fun!”

The Sith rolled her eyes as she ignited one of her blades and placed the red blade only an inch from his throat, preparing for what was sure to be a wounding or fatal blow. However, she suddenly pummeled his head with the hilt instead, knocking the Kiffar out cold. With help from the Force, she dragged him across the floor towards the exit for any present Sadowans to see.