Abandoned and forgotten, the ruins of the Dark Temple have slowly succumbed to the erosion of time. In the central chamber—the walls have crumbled, the ceiling has caved in, and the jungle now flourishes within the once pristine halls.

Green light filters itself through the temple, mixing eerily with the dark, violet hue of Dromund Kaas’ sky. Lightning flickers overhead, the raw energy of the Force clashing high above. The floor is overgrown with flora, large plants and grasses that have swallowed the old stone. Wild creatures roam freely, skittering away from the presence of intruders while vicious predators hide just out of sight.

The main hall is lined on both sides by towering statues, heads bowed in supplication. They stand in deference to the sculpture of a pure-blooded Sith, which towers over the chamber with outstretched arms. The sculpture has been split diagonally down the middle, as if cleaved in two by a rusted blade, but the majesty in the stone still echoes to the past.

On either side of the main hall, remnants of branches to inaccessible parts of the temple remain. One might tilt their head to take in what is left of the mezzanine—the balcony overlooking the chamber—still held aloft by the great pillars standing behind the statues. Several of the pillars have fallen, providing a pathway up to the mezzanine for those willing to take the risk for higher ground. Spirits of the Sith are rumoured to still haunt the grounds—waiting for poor, misguided fools to walk blindly into their domain.

Thunder rumbled through the sky as Rrogon made his way through the thick underbrush that practically engulfed the planet and everything on it. Days had passed since Uji had personally given him this mission to hunt down the Elder Breacen for his outspoken loyalty to Pravus at a time when Arcona needed him most. Cold anger burned inside of the Kaleesh as he made his approach to the long abandoned Sith temple.

Tracking the Human through the jungle had proven more difficult than the Gladiator had originally anticipated, it had been too long since he had done any real tracking to keep up with his target but now after finally closing in there was no where else for the human to hide. Brushing aside a large fern Rrogon finally saw the temple.

Even in the mission briefing about the planet nothing could compare to the sight of the long forgotten and abandoned temple even from this distance he could time's effect on the structure. Several sections of stone roof and walls had crumbled inwards, vines and other plants had like so many other structures begun to devour what was left standing.

Shaking himself from his aw the Kaleesh tapped the communicator on his wrist and opened the secure channel to the Nighthawk waiting in orbit. “AVG Nighthawk, this is operative Argona go for secure.” Rrogon’s voice came out in a rasp as he awaited a response from his shipmates.

“Line secure operative you are green for transmission.” Chirped the counter response several seconds later.

“I have the target cornered and am about to engage, I want a orbital strike locked on to the temple and waiting for my signal, copy?” Seconds passed before a response came.

“Sir are you sure that a-.” the communication specialists never got the chance to finish his statement

“Acknowledge order, command override level glass protocol.” Growled the Kaleesh. Glass protocol was only given by those under the direct authority of the summit and its leaders. This mission fell under the direct supervision of the Templar at this time until the Elder was either dead or captured. Rrogon knew this fight would likely be his last so to be sure his mission was complete he was willing to take any steps necessary to bring down Breacen. Even if it meant burying them both in the temple.

Skar’s comlink chirped and the the voice of the communications officer was replaced by the Captain who Rrogon had spoken with before disembarking for the planet. “Glass protocol acknowledged operative, turbolaser batteries are on standby and awaiting your sinal. Is.. Is there anything that should pass on to the summit, Rrogon?” asked Rulvak with a hint of remorse in his voice

“Negative, Captain.” Shutting down the connection, Rrogon keyed in the command code for the orbital bombardment and had it saved. ready to activate. Lifting his head the Templar unclipped the lightsaber from his side and thumbed it to life with a satisfying snap-hiss. The emerald blade sprung to life in his hand illuminating the dim surroundings of the jungle as what little light from the sun finally faded away and night rushed in to take its place.

Sprinting forward Rrogon made his way into the Sith temple, being ever so careful to take in possible ambush points and positions that his target might use to get the jump on him. Reaching out though the Force the Kaleesh tried to find the Elder, but was unable to. There was just too much background energy for him to get a clear lock on the Human.

So he used his other senses, inhaling deeply the Kaleesh used his heightened sense of smell to find the Elder. Musk and dirt filled his airways but the scent of Braecen left in his wake was there. Even as Rrogon began to turn on the source of the scent, a screaming warning through the Force sent him diving for cover behind one of the fallen pillars in the massive room. Lighting forked and carved into the ground where he had been standing seconds before.

Stunned the Templar narrowed his eye and spotted the Sith as he walked out from behind the cover of one of the tall statues Blue piercing eyes met his own as the Adept pushed aside the matted brown hair that covered them. Rrogon clearly saw the twin sabers at the Humans side and the fact that he had yet to draw them surprised the Kaleesh but only for a second.

Making sure his comlink was ready to transmit the message, the grip around his lightsaber tightened as he stepped out into the open and faced the Elder. There was no hesitation in his movement nor fear in his breathing, Skar was ready for this moment the second he had set foot on the planet.

“Are you done running coward?” taunted the Kaleesh as he planted his feet ready for any attack.

“It would seem so, fool, don't you know you cannot defeat me?” spat the Human as his hands gripped his lightsabers.

“Defeat is relative in this fight, Breacen, you betrayed Arcona when you sided with Pravus. This was a long time coming and you know it!” snarled the Kaleesh as he unleashed his own torrent of Force Lightning at the Elder who activated his lightsabers, their brilliant white light filling the space around him as he deflected the torrents of force energy into the blades and away from his body.

“Die and be damned by whatever god’s watch over you Breacen Kaeth!” roared the Kaleesh as he charged forward. His emerald blade meeting the Elders white, beginning the battle that would surely end his life.

Crack! The emerald blade of the Equite was intercepted by the pair of white blades in the Elder’s hands. For a long second, the pair stared each other down – their features cast in long shadows from the harsh light of their weapons. Braecen’s eyes inhaled every feature of his opponent in that brief pause; the reddish-green scaly skin, the four-clawed hand, and the eyes – different from other Kaleesh – glowed crimson. He could tell his younger opponent was stronger and more athletic. The Elder would not be able to win on strength alone.

Skar raised his blade before his eyes. In his hands, the sword had become more than an instrument of battle. It was an extension of his rage, his answer to an existence he could not accept, and a tradition he was born into. It was his answer, too, perhaps, to another problem that seemed to have no resolution – the Sith Adept before him. Kaleesh believed that those who performed exceptional deeds in life became gods in death. And the determination in his eyes spoke that today, perhaps, would be the day of his ascension. His tusks raised as a smile formed on his lips for the battle ahead.

The Sith Adept said nothing; he just came on in a flurry of cuts and stabs that put Skar immediately on the defensive. Skar took it in stride, not yet realizing the full ramifications of his situation. “I will remember this day in all of its glory,” Skar promised, dodging a cut and launching a fierce counter of his own. “I will carve my name in the halls of the holiest temple – Shrupak – with your defeat.” The look of disgust on Braecen’s face surprised the Equite for a mere second. A second too long, the Elder’s next attack sending a blade knifing straight at his heart. Skar leaped aside, slapping at the blade in sheer desperation, and narrowly avoided impalement.

“Are you so sure of yourself?” Braecen growled, stubbornly pursuing Skar. Skar set himself as their blades met in thunderous furry. A salvo of thrusts, jabs, and counters that ended in a stalemate. Their own exchange creating a cacophony louder than the great storms of Dromund Kaas. “I am a fighter,” Braecen shouted, “I am a Dark Adept!”

“You are a traitor!” Skar shot back in a derisive tone. He slammed his blade onto Braecen’s blocking blade of white flame so savagely that the Elder’s arm tingled from the might of the blow. “A dog of the Grand Master!” Skar cried. “A loyal mutt to a mad man’s plans you cannot understand yourself!”

Braecen went on the offensive. Fire burned in his ice blue eyes and new strength guided his blades' sure cuts. Skar, though, was relentless in his defense. He fended the attacks and continued his taunts. “Do you know what it means to be loyal?” he spat. “Have you reconciled yourself to the master you have let collar you?” The Elder’s only responses were a frustrated growl and a renewed attack. Skar attempted to disengage, but his opponent would not allow a break. The Elder came back with a fury, each thrust aimed for a vital area.

Braecen halted the action so that Skar might weight his every word. “You have never been in the presence of a Dark Lord of the Sith, have you, Skar?” The Elder stretched his arms wide in an invitation. “Come, then, and claim your great kill,” he said, tapping his chest. “So that my screams may echo in your mind and project you into Atyiru’s favor...” A smile began to tug at the corners of Skar’s mouth once more as he relished in the thought of success. “…but be warned that my death will only turn the Grand Master’s eyes upon Arcona and a fate shared with New Tython.”

The tip of Skar’s blade slowly made its way to the ground. He wore no smile now.

“You hesitate,” Braecen laughed at him.

Hesitation? Now of all times? Rrogon thought to himself. No. War with Pravus is inevitable at this point, even if Braecen dies. Laughter began bubbling up from within the Kaleesh, causing him to throw his head back, howling in his own laughter.

Reaching up, Rrogon unclipped the straps to his mask, letting it fall freely to the ground below him, revealing the burned remnants of what his face used to be. Reaching out, Rrogon called out to his surroundings; the earth, the sky, and the very stones beneath his feet. He could feel the Dark Side that clung to everything like a second skin.

It was like swimming through a sea of sludge, heavy and thick, but this was what he needed. Even now he could feel the power that laid in the planet, the power that was calling to him. Wanting him to let it in, to fuel him and his rage. Yet in the back of his mind, he could hear the teachings that Atiryu had been showing him over the course of his rehabilitation on Selen.

Darkness holds great power, Skar, and at many times even more then the light ever could. But remember that any power comes with a price. You saw first hand what it can do to the body if left unchecked.

The Templar knew full well that this mission could be his last and he accepted that without hesitation. I die knowing that those I leave behind will live Reaching out once more, the Kaleesh called to the Darkness around him and began pulling it within himself, letting it change him, mold him into what he needed to be, what he was born to be. A Kaleesh God.

Fire ignited in the Templar’s eyes, causing them to glow like a forge as he lowered himself into an archaic battle stance that his father taught him and his brothers long ago. The Dark Side pulsed like a living being within him, as if the heartbeat of the planet now matched his own. Meeting the eyes of the Adept once more, Rrogon’s next words came clear and true in his own native tongue.

“Tonight, we both die in the fires of battle.”

Howling, Rrogon charged once more at the Adept, letting the Force guide his movements and his blade as the very air around him seemed to burn and hiss at his passing. Once more, the two Juggernauts clashed, and their deadly dance commenced once again.

Diving under the white fire of Braecen’s blade as it tried to cleave at his exposed face, Rrogon let his momentum carry him behind the Sith’s legs where Rrogon slammed his open palm into the ground, releasing a wave of telekinetic energy that slammed into the Human from behind and swept the unsuspecting man off his feet, and away from the alien that had hunted him across the planet.

Crashing to the ground a second later, Braecen quickly rose to his feet and whipped his head around to find the Kaleesh charging him once more. Sneering, the Human raised his hand and released another stream of infernal electricity, but was surprised as the Kaleesh seemed to sap the strength from his attack just before it hit him.

Slamming into the waiting lightsaber, Rrogon easily pushed aside the diminished Force Lightning and continued with his charge. He would not let this traitor leave the temple alive. White blades hissing through the air as the Templar made his advance, each blow pushed aside or deflected before they could make contact with the Warrior.

Lashing out with his foot, Rrogon tried to sweep Braecen off his feet, but when it connected, it felt like he had struck a rod of pure iron, and a smug look of victory crossed Braecen’s face as he moved in for the kill on the exposed Gatekeeper. But rather than move out of the way, Rrogon instead moved into the attack, letting both of the white blades stab into his stomach just as his own yellow blade pierced Braecen’s heart.

Horrible pain burned inside the Kaleesh as the lightsaber blades superheated his organs and burning him from the inside out. But he knew that victory was now his as Braecen slumped into his chest, the light of life fading from his eyes. The Adept’s lightsabers deactivated as the Human’s hands fell from them.

Struggling to push the Human off of him, Skar finally heaved the corpse off and slowly moved his hand to his comlink, each second of movement an agonizing eternity. Rasping into the the receiver, Skar tried to stay awake despite the sheer amount of pain and agony he was in.

“Nighthawk… mission completed. end medical teams,” Darkness finally took him as the Kaleesh finally succumbed to the pain, blacking out.

Desperate to overcome his foe, Skar reached into the Force. In his younger days, he had not relied on the Dark Side during combat, thinking that it was a hindrance and showed weakness. Now, in the face of great adversity, wisdom guided his hand. Tendrils of the Force stretched outward from the Equite and wrapped about the Sith Elder. They pulsed as he fed more power through each tendril; utilizing the momentary pause in combat he strengthened his grip to uproot the Corellian’s fears.

The Dark Adept remained a statue of determination. His bright blue eyes betrayed nothing, but slowly – as Skar poured more of himself into the power he harnessed – his eyes darted to and fro. Casually, he darted his head to the left and right seeking some unseen foe. The red-green scaled alien smiled in victory; he had harnessed the Dark Side of the Force in such a way that had raised Braecen’s greatest fears to the surface. “I hold you in thrall now,” Skar bellowed, “you traitor!”

Braecen guffawed heartily. The noise was so unfamiliar to the place that it cut through the storm outside with ease. It reverberated over what had once been pristine halls of dark granite and polished stone. Fauna that had sprouted up in the cracks of the stone did little to dampen the sound. “You overestimate your strength, Little Agrona. You have no power here,” Braecen quipped.

Raw, unnatural power ripped through the Elder’s insides as he opened himself to his full potential. The Dark Side hurtled through his veins and lit his synapses afire. It equally turned his stomach and threatened to drive the Adept to his knees so vile and torturous was the power. He gritted his teeth, turned on the Equite, and raised his hands and splayed his fingers. He envisioned the power as it engulfed his opponent in a wave and wrapped tightly about Skar akin to a snake tightening its hold. Black tendrils coaxed themselves around the Kaleesh from every angle and systematically began to reduce his connection to the Force. As Braecen tightened his unseen grip on the Equite, realization dawned in the younger man’s eyes. The unnatural crimson eyes glowed brighter and widened in surprise.

Skar, surprised, could not accept the sudden change. His head burned in agony, and he reeled backwards, trying to get away from the Elder’s grasp. “I am your prisoner,” Skar stammered. Methodically, Braecen came on, dreading every step but knowing his chosen course of action to be correct. Skar realized that he was being stalked, but he could not understand the true motive. The sudden reduction of his connection to the Force had stunned him, but he was more surprised by Braecen’s continuation of the battle. Skar set himself, unable to escape the trap, and tried to think his way around his loss. He had no intention of dying at the hand of the Elder today.

He brought his emerald blade up just in time to block a downward chop that would have split his skull. Braecen had not expected the parry. He recoiled and came in from a different angle. Again he was foiled. Now more curious than wanting to kill one of Atyiru’s Champions, the Adept went through a series of attacks, sending his blades into motions that would have sliced through the defenses of many who could match his skill.

Lightning cracked overhead, a bright flash stretched through the open ceiling and blinded both foes equally. They stood face-to-face, neither seeing the other very well in the blinding glare, and neither able to break the tense silence in the lightning's wake. After a long and breathless moment, the light faded and the room became more comfortable. Truly, the two Force Users looked upon each other in a different light as thunder rumbled throughout the battlefield.

“Treachery,” Skar spat.

“It is our way,” Braecen replied. “You will learn.”

“It is your way,” snarled Skar. “You relish the thought of killing Undesirables. Do you find joy in the thought of subverting Arcona, too?”

Braecen could not find an answer to the accusing question. Skar’s words hurt him profoundly because they rang of truth, and because Braecen had come to view his penchant for killing Undesirables as a cowardly response to his own unanswerable frustrations with the political ambitions of the Serpentine Throne.

“Go then, Skar Agrona!” Braecen cried out. “Go back to Arcona and bask in the supposed glory of the First Clan. Remember, though, the consequences of such hubris. Always there is another that will rise to claim the mantle!” He retreated to the security of an attached corridor that lead away from the Kaleesh male. The door to the chamber closed behind him with a sound of finality. Not only to this engagement, but to the Quaestor’s service to the Serpentine Throne.