The Godless Matron was once a Trade Federation battleship, crewed by countless droid workers. Since then, many sections of the ship have fallen into disrepair due to the sheer amount of manpower involved in its maintenance. As a result, parts of the central sphere of the Lucrehulk-class battleship has been left to the ravages of time and the scars of the Clone War itself.

The crew has come to refer to this section of the Matron as The Gauntlet, largely due to the danger it represents. Located in the lower regions of the command sphere, it is a crosshatched network of ruined and damaged hallways, repair bays, and even crew quarters. While most power has been shut off to this section — save for critical systems such as life support — the systems and circuitry still require occasional maintenance in order to keep the entire framework operational. Such tech runs have become a matter of betting amongst the crew, earning it the nickname: running the gauntlet.

A heavy layer of dust sits mostly undisturbed along the debris of the halls, save for the footprints of the few crew that have tread the path before. These previously walked paths are a safety net for those who venture into The Gauntlet unknowingly. It is also thought that the remaining Separatist forces staged a last ditch defense within this area of the ship, and did so by any means necessary. Many traps, ranging from explosives to spring-loaded mechanisms, are littered throughout the untravelled pathways — or even still undisturbed within the known sections. Further still, malfunctioning B1 droids and even semi-active Spy Drones remain, ready to ambush the unsuspecting observer and adding to the dangers of the dark, debris filled tomb The Gauntlet has become.

Countless perils awaited those who ventured into the furthest depths of the Gauntlet. This fact was known to the crew of the Godless Matron better than most. There was opportunity, however, when the right circumstances presented themselves. The Herald had offered safe passage and not an entirely small sum of credits to whomsoever managed to 'run the Gauntlet' successfully. The proof of such a feat lay deep within the labyrinthine halls themselves, with a banner bearing the Herald's crest waiting to be claimed.

The risks of the Gauntlet alone were enough to dissuade most, but the crew of the Godless Matron had insured that the ante, so to speak, was to be raised. Those who entered the Gauntlet would do so from varying access points, and all would gain entry at the same designated intervals until the prize was claimed.

“Alright Lex, you can do this,” The Quarren sighed, his hand slid and guided him across the cold durasteel of the wall. “You’ve done this many times. Watch the holes, find Sorenn’s banner and get out.” He continued with a bravery that would match a hero entering a Krayt Dragon’s cave. Lexiconus had read about the Gauntlet before, but only in the briefing from the Captain and First Mate’s messages. The figures of how many crew and travellers died down here were sketchy and didn’t match, maybe they were covering something. Lexiconus dropped the problem from his mind and focused on the task of carefully walking through this rickety hallway. Each careful step he took, the metal beneath his feet shook and trembled, sending creaking vibrations across the hallway.

“Perhaps I can find a body with a map.” He wondered, it was a bold suggestion, but from the looks of the place, anything that survived the murder and bloodshed was dropped into the void of space. After carefully stepping and hugging the wall, Lexiconus made it across the treacherous drop and faced three paths; east, north and west. The Savant scanned the dusty floors and walls, he saw a large scuffling of feet leading east, while only singular tracks led north and no one took the west path. Peering down the west corridor Lexiconus could see why, with flames bursting from the walls, cargo boxes floating in mid-air and a beautiful view of space from where, according to an aurebesh sign, a docking bay should be.

“Judging from the path adventurers before have took, and the immediate signs of danger, I’ll just take the north path and see where I go.” He concluded with a smile, turning off and stepping in the footsteps of others. Venturing down the cold and dark corridor, following the dusty steps of his predecessors, he quickly found the reason why so few people took this path. Trap doors in the curve of the floor, small silvery lumps that flashed red, and a corpse lay in the darkness that wasn’t quite humanoid. It looked similar to the bulky torso of a B1 unit droid.

“Hm, perhaps the east path was best, after all.” Lexiconus assures himself and slowly turns around, retracing the clean footprints through the dust. The Savant decides to bring up his notes on the Gauntlet, skimming the necessary information. As he haphazardly turned the corner without looking, his head went straight into the chest of another, stumbling him. He looked up to find some sort of pistol cocked and pointed straight at his forehead, and the face of a very frustrated but calm Human.

“Less talk, more action, squid. Empty the pockets, throw it on the ground, toss that lovely lightsaber of yours and then we can talk about why you’re here.” He said with a strong conviction. The Quarren immediately did as he said and quickly dropped what he owned, throwing the saber staff onto the ground near his feet. Lexiconus raised his hands in surrender and watching as the Human scanned the objects.

“You will die if you do not cooperate.” He said with a wave of his hand. The Force penetrated and invaded Lexiconus’ mind, urging him to co-operate and to re-iterate the command given. The Savant furrowed and grumbled, resisting the attempt of mind trickery. Fighting through the stress, Lexiconus growled out and tried his best to push out the mind tricks.

“I will not cooperate! I will not be your pawn!” He shouted out, finally pushing the Human from his mind. The Savant pushed his hands out and the Human was launched into the air, gliding back down the corridor. Lexiconus profited from the split-second, picking up his saberstaff, he made a run for it down the eastern corridor. Red plasma exploded and darted near his feet as the Human fired repeatedly at his moving target.

“Don’t do this, squid. You don’t want to upset the wrong Sorenn.” He shouted with urge.

Sorenn? Isn’t the Captain called Sorenn? Wait, she had a brother, Turel. But he was a Jedi who escaped...That Human had a lightsaber.

Cogs clicked and churned in place as Lexiconus finally saw the mystery behind the maverick Human.

“Turel Sorenn. Leader of the Jedi, huh? Pravus will have your head if he catches you here!” Lexiconus shouted back. “Perhaps we can make a deal!”

”A deal? Yeah, sure buddy.”

Turel gave no audible response to the Quarren’s offer of a deal. He continued his pursuit down the dusty and decrepit corridor. Loose wires hung from the ceiling and debris cluttered the path ahead as the Sentinel cautiously moved forward. Danger lurked in every loose bulkhead, wrecked battledroid and pile of rubble. The entire level was a web of traps from both the Clone Wars and more recent additions. It was a miracle they were not sucked into space given the utter state of disrepair this section of the Matron was in. He made a note to jokingly chastise his sister later for her sloppy housekeeping.

The ex-gangster silently cursed himself for so flippantly revealing his identity for the sake of a one-liner. It was a brash and short-sighted decision. He was glad none of his colleagues in the Sentinel Network had been around to witness such a grievous breach of basic tradecraft. Turel had zeroed in on the Quarren when he felt his presence in the Force, taking great care to conceal his own. He had a fairly strong inclination that the Quarren was Lexiconus Qor, a Quaestor in Clan Scholae Palatinae. There weren’t many Quarren in the Brotherhood after all, especially after Pravus’ purge. The Sentinel Network profiles on Scholae Palatinae were woefully incomplete but it was safe to assume one of their senior leaders was not a friend to Odan-Urr’s cause. The capture and field interrogation of a Quaestor presented an invaluable opportunity to gather intelligence. He’d have to make it a quick interrogation if he still wanted to reach Morgan’s banner in time to collect the creds before someone else did. He likely wouldn’t be able to actually collect on the bounty without revealing himself to the Inquisition agents lurking on the ship. He also knew the safe passage associated with prevailing in this challenge was his only way off the Matron.

The ruined hallway lead into a sprawling chamber lined end to end with industrial looking machines Turel could not identify and racks of old B1 battledroids in various states of disrepair. This chamber had to be one of the old separatist droid repair facilities. He spotted the Quarren on the far side of the room attempting to force open a rusted door to the next hallway segment. Still concealing his presence in the Force, Turel crept as quietly as he could upon his prey. He readied his dart launcher for a non-lethal takedown. All he needed was a clear shot and he could incapacitate and restrain the suspected Quaestor for a little game of truth or dare with an emphasis on truth.

As Turel moved silently across the repair bay a malfunctioning B1 upper torso on the floor sprang to life and reached for his feet.

“JEEEEDI DETECTED. ENGAGE COMBAT PROTOCOLS,” the droid announced in a warbled and broken voice.

The Quarren spun around at the sudden disruption of the otherwise quiet room and ignited his saberstaff. Twin emerald blades cast a light green hue over the dimly lit repair bay.

“I know you’re there Turel. We can still make a deal.”

The Sentinel kicked the B1 torso away from his feet. “Uh, beep boop beep. No one here but us droids. Crush the Republic. Beep boop.” There was no use attempting to hide while the B1 was clawing at him, he might as well get a joke in.

Lexiconus lowered his still blazing saberstaff to a one handed grip at his side and raised his right hand toward the direction of the noise. He reached out through the Force and found a whole B1 unit. The Techweaver gave the droid the command to activate and enter combat mode as he slowly approached Turel’s location.

Turel reflexively readied his own saber as a second B1 climbed out of a nearby rack and readied its blaster rifle.

With the Jedi’s attention now fixed on the droid in front of him, Lexiconus maneuvered to his flank. The Quarren deactivated his saberstaff and readied it to throw. With the combat command firmly implanted into the droid his full concentration was available for an attack upon the Odan-Urr High Councilor. He waited for the droid to open fire then threw the saberstaff at his opponent like a boomerang. Lexiconus telekinetically pressed the activation switch as he released and continued to guide its path through the Force.

Clanking and marching towards Turel with its blaster rifle ready, the B1 droid fired several shots, which Turel deflected away with trivial effort. But his real focus was on the saberstaff hurling and gliding through the air, speeding closer. The droid recycled its message as it closed the gap and fired more frequently.

“Kill the Jedi! Kill the Jedi!” With little time to spare, the Vanguard had to think fast. Ducking and rolling forward, he pierced the metal hull of the droid and dragged the saber upwards, destroying the control module at the head. Whirring and spinning closer, the saberstaff closed the gap and as Turel ducked, the saberstaff clawed across his hair, severing the wolf tail.

The saberstaff was seamlessly recalled to the owner’s hand, Turel stood and readied his lightsaber again, he was prepared to take on the Quarren in a duel. Spinning his lightsaber in a flurry, the Jedi rushed forward and leapt across the scrap metal. Focused on closing in to finish off the Quarren, he weaved his body over the scrap metal and past the countless bodies of droids forgotten in time. It seemed to be his only option in order to win.

Lexiconus forced his saberstaff into the rustic metal of the door, slicing and chopping through the hinges with haste. He didn’t want to be a prisoner, he had a mission to complete. Above all, the mission came first, over life and death, even if that meant his own. A loud and sharp clank against the ship floor told Lexiconus that the door finally surrendered to the cutting, allowing the Quarren to slip through the doorway. Hidden in the darkness of the empty and dusty corridor, Lexiconus concentrated fully on the hulking door and telekinetically lifted it from the floor, then rotated it as fast as he could in the air. With a harsh shove, he blasted it towards Turel.

“Oh karabast!” Turel cursed as he watched the door soar towards him. Hesitant about moving, Turel deactivated his lightsaber and looked for a quick escape route or protection. To his right, Turel spotted a mechanical arm responsible for repairs and dived towards the protection of the bulky limb. The flying door crashed and burst into shrapnel that speared into the ground and across the repair bay.

Still hidden and concealed in the shadows as best he could, Lexiconus observed the mayhem unfold and came to believe that Turel was finally dead.

Lexiconus followed the same method as he did before, using the dusty footsteps of the crew members before, scanning his surroundings for traps and droid units. Making his way through the hallway, the Savant came to a cube room with a blast door. Judging from the keypad and the blinking lights, he could see the door was still locked. However, he peered into the thin, oval window at the top and scanned inside. It was there, his mission, his prize and claim of championship.

The flag is mine!

Bringing his emerald saberstaff to life and shoving the blade into the lock of the door, Lexiconus began to cut. But the rattling of the vents above caught his attention. The Savant turned and yanked the grating from the vent with telekinesis, and Turel dropped hard onto the floor. He looked exhausted and bruised across his hands and face, but as he quickly stood, igniting his lightsaber and pointing the tip to Lexiconus’ neck, the Savant realised it was a ruse.

“Alright squid, you’ve lost. Let’s call it off, the flag is mine.” He panted out heavily.

“What’s the matter, Jedi? Is the Gauntlet too much for you?” Lexiconus said, but Turel seemed to be somewhere else. Voices of his master penetrated his mind and tried to bring him back into concentration. The Vanguard snapped from his moment of relapse and tightened his grip on the lightsaber.

“I said unlock the door, Lex! This isn’t a game!” He spat out, but Lexiconus shrugged it off.

“I’m trying to cut it open!” The Quarren was immediately cut off as Turel swung his fist around in a brutal throat punch. Lexiconus collapsed onto the floor in a fit of choking and panting, while Turel shoved his own lightsaber into the blast door and began cutting.

“Stay down, squid, or you’ll regret it!” The Jedi intimidated him with his vicious words, but Lexiconus wasn’t about to back down. This was his mission. The mission came first.

Just a few more millimeters and I’ve got it.

Turel continued trying to cut the blast door open with his saber. A thought occurred to him that the door was probably trapped and he should have let Lexic finish opening it before he closed in on him. Crawling through vents was never his speciality anyway. He only had seconds before the Quarren would get up and try to attack him; hopefully he could make it through the door before that happened.

Multiple sets of footsteps coming from behind gave Turel pause. He pulled his saber out of the door and whirled around to find a trio of the Matron’s denizens aiming their weapons at the two Force users. The trio was comprised of a wookie with a bowcaster, a male Devaronian with a scattergun and a Human with a blaster pistol. All three were dressed in outfits so stereotypically pirate that they could have been extras on a trashy holonovel.

“How nice of you to get the door for us. Now drop the glow bat and maybe we’ll let you live,” the Human commanded.

The Devaronian cocked his scattergun, “The lightsabers would fetch a load o’ creds on da market. We should take em’.”

The Human nodded in agreement, “Scratch that, hand over the fancy swords and we might let you live.”

By this time Lexic has slowly risen to his feet behind Turel and had turned to face this new threat. The Jedi pondered how much help the Quarren would be in the current situation or if he’d take advantage of the chaos to stab him in the back. He had no choice but to face the greater threat to his front and trust that the Quaestor had made a similar assessment of their predicament.

Turel’s eyes darted around the room for a moment as he carefully considered his options. There were too many for mind trick to work and they had him cornered with no places to hide. The only way out of this was to fight head on. He discretely readied the personal energy shield on his wrist using some of his old sleight of hand tricks. The Devaronian would be his priority target. He only hoped Lexic would take the cue and hold the others at bay with his saberstaff. The Sentinel took a deep breath and called upon the Force to strengthen his leg muscles for the initial dash, taking advantage of the precious seconds before the combat started.

“Sure, you can have my saber. Just take it and go,” Turel bluffed as convincingly as he could. He deactivated his saber as he prepared to charge.

Lexic activated his saberstaff with a flourish. “I won’t give up that easily!”

Just follow my lead moron!

Turel raised his hands and dormant saber as if he was going to surrender. He could see the thugs’ attention focusing on the Quarren. He slowly stepped to the side, moving away from Lexic but closer to the Devaronian.

“I’m not gonna ask again fish-boy, make like your friend here and drop the glowstick,” the Human commanded with a deadly seriousness in his voice.

Seizing the moment, Turel dashed toward the Devaronian. As he ran he threw his saber arm behind him and his shield arm toward the front. The personal energy shield sprang to life with a deep hum as a circular disc of pure energy assembled over his left forearm. The thug panicked and fired one volley from his scattergun directly into the shield causing it to overheat and shatter as it absorbed countless pellets travelling at supersonic speed. Turel drove forward as his Force-enhanced legs exhausted their temporary boost of energy. Before the Devaronian could squeeze the trigger a second time, Turel swung his left arm wide and struck the pirate in the face with his now depleted shield generator. It bruised the Jedi’s forearm, but it hurt the thug more. The horned man collapsed to the ground like a sack of Lothal beets. Turel kicked the scattergun out of his hands before activating his saber in a two-handed grip.

While this was happening, Lexic had effortlessly deflected a few blaster bolts from the Human’s pistol. Then the Wookie took aim. To his credit, the Quarren took the bowcaster bolt like a champ. He attempted to block the bolt with his saber only to have the sheer force of the blast send him flying backwards into some rubble.

Flowing through the moment, Turel stood on the downed Devaronian’s back and leapt at the Human. Hip-firing while the Jedi deflected the blasters with trivial effort, he backed closer to the wall. The Vanguard needed to close the gap, if he ever wanted to survive the volley of shots from the Wookiee. His blaster deflections timed like clockwork, Turel rushed the Human and slid behind him, covering himself. The bowcaster pointed at the duo, and as they were expendable to the Captain of the Matron, the Wookiee gangster blasted the Human shield. The spray of blood and burnt cloth covered Turel, while he evaded the ricochet from the corpse. But now he had no cover.

“Karabast, this is gonna sting!” The Vanguard cursed to himself, readying his two-handed grip again. The Wookiee gave out a blood-curdling roar as his bulky weapon swooped back to aim at Turel, the Human squinting in anticipation. He impatiently awaited the kick-back of the bowcaster blast, but it never came. Turel looked up to see the weapon itself vibrating and trembling in the Wookiee’s hands. The arch of the bow contorted and curled to the nozzle, as the weapon itself was slowly crushed. A wave of icy coldness washed over the Vanguard, and he witnessed the Wookiee levitate from the floor. Choking and grabbing an invisible hand against his neck, the Wookiee pleaded for mercy.

“You want to play, furball? Game on,” Turel turned to the voice, and saw Lexiconus stride through the smoke of the rubble. His hand extended and gripped, the Quarren squeezed more, and the sound of the Wookiee’s windpipe broke through. Lexiconus gritted his teeth and with a shove of his hand, the Wookiee soared down the corridor, slamming into the durasteel wall. His body formed a dint in the rusty metal, then he slid down unconscious. The Savant looked around and assessed the battle scene, then chuckled as he saw the dead Human.

“Sorry, Jedi, I cannot save this one.” He teased, Turel bluffed a light chuckle and turned back to the blast door. Upon inspection, Lexiconus noticed their damage to the mechanisms welded the door shut. However, lightsabers are able to cut through blast doors, given enough time.

“Listen, Jedi,” The Savant prodded at Turel. “Yes, inbetweener?” He replied, the dry humour on Lexiconus’ Gray choice wasn’t received well.

“Look, as far as I’m concerned you can have the banner. This trivial game of cat and mouse is not something I signed up for. I came for my medicine. I’ve got it, now I want to go home. Can you at least stop killing me until we go our separate ways?” The Quarren asked the doubtful Jedi, in an attempt to win him over.

“Sure, we can parlay,” Turel’s reply was short cut, his attention more on his bruised arm. Lexiconus could see he was carefully rubbing and feeling it. He hissed and flinched at the pain, his teeth gritted. A deceitful play to coax the doctor in, and it was working.

The poor Jedi must be suffering badly. Lexiconus thought.

Slowly, the Savant approached Turel and extended his hand in aid, but the Human was hesitant at first. They were, after all, enemies, albeit indirectly.

“I just want to help, we’re parlaying, remember?” Lexiconus asked, it was genuine and Turel could sense it. Giving in and showing his bruised arm, Turel removed his personal shield generator for Lexiconus to get a closer look. On Turel’s other hand, Lexiconus noticed a beautiful signet ring, the symbol of the Sith carved into it.

“Am I right in assuming this ring is what Pravus gave you, for surviving those barbaric arenas?” Lexiconus asked, a simple nod was all Turel gave while the Savant inspected it more.

“I keep an antidote inside, just for the right occasion.” Turel said, as Lexiconus held the ring right in front of his face. The Jedi wasn’t sure if he was going to kiss it, or eat it whole. Chancing the moment, the Vanguard carefully raised his right arm to the Quarren’s neck. A small click and a puff of air came from Turel’s wrist, shooting out a poison-laced dart into Lexiconus’ neck. The Quarren sank to the floor in a state of spinal paralysis.

Turning to the blast door, Turel sighed as he stroked his chin.

“So how will I open you now? I wonder if the vents lead into this room.”

Crimson bolts flew across the room as Turel batted them away with a few close saber orbits. He remained calm, stood his ground and kept his saber close to his body with minimal movement to deflect. The Human thug grew frustrated at how effortlessly the Jedi deflected the bolts from his blaster pistol.

“Don’t just stand there you walking carpet! Blast him!”

The Wookie traversed his bowcaster in Turel’s direction. The Sentinel was not about to attempt to deflect a bowcaster bolt after seeing what happened to Lexic. He darted to his right to keep the Human thug between himself and the business end of the Wookie’s weapon. The thug leader caught on to what Turel was doing and fired a few more blaster bolts his way. At closer range, it was far easier to deflect the bolts back at the firer, and one of the bolts struck the Human in the chest.

A bellowing Wookie roar signaled the thug’s frustration at his leader going down. The furry criminal took aim yet again and fired. Turel attempted to dodge, but the bolt struck the ground below him, knocking him off his feet.

Before the Wookie could move to investigate the downed Jedi, the whirring sound of a saberstaff flying toward him caught his attention. A loud thud followed by a softer thud echoed in the chamber as the Wookie dropped his weapon and slumped to the ground headless. Lexic recalled his saber to his hand and limped over to where Turel was, thoroughly bruised from landing in the rubble pile. He found the Sentinel laying prostrate on his stomach.

As the Quarren approached he noticed something was off; Turel had no visible injuries. Lexic tightened his grip on the saber hilt. This was likely a ruse. Suddenly a warning echoing through the Force confirmed his suspicion.

Turel rolled over onto his back with the Devaronian’s scattergun in his hands. “Surprise!” He pulled the trigger.

Lexic had mere seconds to react. He reflexively tried to block the shot with his saberstaff, but most of the pellets slipped past. Luckily for the Quaestor he was far enough away that the cone of the scattergun blast was relatively wide. Unfortunately for the Quarren he caught several pellets in his chest and arms. The blow knocked him over with the wind kicked out of his lungs.

The ex-gangster rose to his feet and cocked the scattergun. “That was for my hair. Do you have any idea how long it took me to grow that wolf tail? It’s going to take forever to get that back and people will think I’m a Padawan or something and-”

Turel was interrupted by Lexic coughing up blood and trying to sit up. He pondered what to do next as he stared at his vanquished opponent. The immediate threat had passed, and there was no need to take his life. The Jedi called Lexic’s saberstaff to his free hand with the Force. “You won’t be needing this.”

The Quarren’s wheezing and struggling became painful to hear. The Jedi’s mind raced with possibilities of what to do next. He tensed as he noticed Lexic reaching for something on his belt, only to relax when he saw it was a medpac. He wasn’t a medic, but he felt the Quarren would survive the injuries. He’d have a tough time making it out of the Gauntlet in that state, though.

Turel marched back over to the blast door and finished cutting it open. Beyond the door lay a banner with Morgan’s signature skull and tentacles sitting on a table. Ironic, the Jedi thought to himself as he carefully collected the banner after checking for traps. As soon as he picked up the prize he heard the familiar whirring of a spy drone coming his way.

After stepping back into the larger chamber, Turel stopped. He looked at the banner then looked down at his Quarren adversary. It was almost too much of a coincidence. He walked over to Lexic and stood over him once more. The Quaestor seemed focused on tending to his injuries.

“Well, you won.” He spat out between labored breaths.

Turel leaned down and thrust the banner into Lexic’s hand. “No, you did. I don’t need the safe passage.”

The confusion on the Quarren’s face was palpable. It wasn't until Turel left that the Quaestor understoood the Jedi's act of mercy.