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.

Arden adjusted his filter mask as he skulked through the dust filled bowels of the so-called Godless Matron. Normally he refrained from wearing a mask in space as allergens were rare. Given the age of this ship and the layers of dust everywhere, the Plagueian thought it was better that he wear one. In a place this dangerous, he couldn’t take the chance of anything affecting his lungs.

So far, his journey through the depths of the ship had been fairly uneventful, which was somewhat surprising given what he’d heard. That could mean one of two things, either the pirates were trying to get in his head or all the bad stuff was in front of him. He figured either of both could be true, so he was still proceeding cautiously while trying to keep as quick a pace as possible. It was still probable, in his estimation, that there was someone else down here trying to get to the same goal. But where were they?

As the Plagueian approached an intersection, he suddenly stopped in his tracks as he heard something. After a couple heartbeats he figured out what it was, a soft whimpering. He turned his head quizzically, surprised to hear something like that down here. But after a moment, Arden confirmed what he was hearing. He immediately figured it was some sort of trap, but he couldn’t help poking his head around the corner. The surprises, it seemed, kept coming.

”What the kriff is he doing down here?”

Arden immediately recognized the Ryn who was sitting on the floor whimpering as Kordath Bleu, a member of the Arconan summit. That wasn’t the only way he knew of him though, he was also one of Arden’s favorite authors. It was a bit of a guilty pleasure, but it was a welcome diversion from the war novels he’d usually read. This was the first time he’d ever met him where there weren’t other people around so it was rather exciting. There was still a problem they were down in this maze and the Ryn wasn’t looking too good. If it was almost anyone else, Arden would just leave them to their wits, but if he died down here, he couldn’t write anymore books

Even from here he could smell the distinct combination of sweat and whiskey, a combination he was quite familiar with working with Ronovi back in the day. It wasn’t entirely clear clear what had happened, but there were some signs of an explosion that the Ryn likely avoided the worst of, but caught enough of to throw him to the ground. As he finally concluded this wasn’t a trap, Arden walked into the corridor which caused the Ryn to look up and mumble.

“Atty? Wait, you’re not Atty. What...how...?”

“Long story,” Arden replied. “You hurt? We need to keep moving.”

Kordath blinked rapidly, still clearly inebriated. “I’m drunk, not hurt.”

”How the kriff did he make it this far this drunk?”, Arden mused to himself. ”Wait, never mind, he’s a professional, like Ronovi”

After a couple awkward seconds, the Plagueian finally replied. “You know, I’ve never really had the chance to say this before, but I’m a big fan of yours. Your writing is, well, good.”

“Huh?” The Ryn seemed somewhat confused at the mention of writing. “Oh, yeah, that.”

Before Arden could say anything else, he started hearing the sound of clanging metal coming from further down the corridor. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound good and it was getting closer. This wasn’t the best place for them to be, they had to move. The Plagueian moved over to the sloshed Kordath and offered him a hand to get up.

“We can talk about that later, but we got to go, something’s coming.”

The Arconan’s response was heavily slurred. “Go? Go where? I’m fine here.”

While Arden was tempted to simply drag the Ryn out by his tail, there was one more thing he could think of to perhaps make him functional. Removing the glove from his right hand, Arden then reached down and gave Kordath a firm slap across the face.

“Oy! What was that for?” Kordath yelped.

Arden put his glove back on and offered it to the Ryn again“To get your head back in the game. And I’m Arden by the way.”

The Ryn stared at the outstretched hand with a blank look. His mind was racing, despite the effects of the whiskey. Only about a quarter of the bottle in his hand, tucked up against himself, was gone after all. He was perfectly clear headed as things went. Sure. What was worrying was the smooth skin in front of him, the one who’d just smacked him, was acting really familiar. Overly familiar.

Who da kark is this Humie? Arden? Da bloody hell is an Arden? Says he knows me work, but how’s he know me? Tha publisher never put me face in one of them things, not even in the author bit. Who’d buy a holonovel from a bleedin’ Ryn was his reasonin’, never thought he was wrong. So, this bloke knows who I am, and I’ve never laid me eyes on him before.

Kordath narrowed his gaze, gears turning even as he heard the sound of what was probably defunct battle droids approaching. All the better, he figured as he took in the armored Human’s arsenal. He grabbed the man’s hand, levering himself up awkwardly with his staff strapped across his back.

Knows who I am, armed ta tha teeth. Must be here ta kill me, he decided, using the leverage from his grip to pull himself towards the man. The bottle came swinging around in a lovely arc towards the Human’s hairless mug. Kordath noted absently that the man’s eyes widened before the bottle had even likely come into view and cursed himself.

Of course, he’s a bleedin’ Jedi. Or a Sith. Ain’t exactly wearin’ a sign, is he?

The possible assassin pushed the Ryn back, who held tenaciously onto the hand in an effort to still connect with his bottle. Kordath twisted his arm deftly, drawing his intended target closer and smacking the glass container against the man’s forearm instead. The bottle shattered, much to Bleu’s dismay and horror.

“Noooooo!” he wailed, hitting the ground with his knees, much to the confusion of the man before him.

“Are...are you done? We should go before—” Arden was cut off as scarlet bolts of blaster fire peppered the bulkhead behind him. Kord didn’t look up from his spreading puddle of whiskey, mourning its loss as the droids came around the corner.

The droids fire drew much of the Human’s attention, a lightsaber springing to life in his hand as he batted away blaster bolts. Kordath looked up from the remains of his whiskey ration, it was meant to get him to this blasted flag that Sorenn had planted and back again. Instead, it’d been wasted on this...this…

He growled and lashed out, gathering the Force to his arm and capitalizing on the Human’s focus on the droids. A balled up fist, driven by anger and despair planted itself in the smooth skins groin and eliciting a gasp of pain and shock from Arden.

“Ya won’t be skinnin’ this Ryn just yet, boyo!” he shouted as the man took a knee, eyes watering and mouth hanging open. If Bleu had paid more attention he’d have noticed the look of confusion vying with pain. He wasn’t, he felt that blaster fire and lost whiskey were enough of a reason to get moving. With a look down the hall, the droids firing were in terrible shape he realized, probably why they’d not hit either of them yet, he dashed towards the nearest T-junction and ducked through, tossing a small black object behind him. He whistled through his nose as he ran, tossing the pin from the flashbang over his shoulder as he did so.

I knew there was a reason I hated Ryn, Arden mused to himself as did his best to manage the pain from the blow to the family jewels with the aid of the Force. He started to yell out after the Ryn, but stopped suddenly when he saw the grenade hit the ground. Not being entirely sure what sort of grenade it was, Arden flicked off his lightsaber, which he was somewhat surprised to see in his hand to begin with, and dove away to the best of this ability. Ignorant of the danger, the antique droids continued to fire wildly though none of their shots were a threat. A couple seconds later, the device detonated causing an intense flash of light and and a concussive shockwave to rip through the corridor.

As he was not looking directly at the flash, his vision was only affected for a second or two. The shockwave though hit him like another whack to the sensitive parts. As he tried to regain his bearings, he noticed the droids were equally disoriented, the flash overwhelming their optics. When Arden regained his sight, he pulled his pistol and neutralized the droids with a volley of plasma that was very poorly aimed by Arden’s standards. Once the shots landed, Arden began the slow process of getting to his feet.

Once he got to his feet, albeit he was still somewhat wobbly, he caught the sound of the Ryn moving down the intersecting corridor. After returning his lightsaber to his belt and exchanging the pistol for his rifle, the Plagueian started stumbling down the corridor after Kordath. Looking just as drunk as the Ryn, Arden struggled to keep any sort of pace but after a minute or so and a right hand turn, he spotted the Ryn looking jogging down the corridor in front of him.

“Hey, hold up!” Arden shouted down the corridor, trying to get Kordath’s attention. “I have no interest in skinning anyone. I don’t even want an autograph.”

Because I already have a complete autographed collection anyway.

“Ya spilled me whiskey,” the Ryn replied, though he didn’t stop hustling forward. “Why should I even talk to ya?”

Well, that’s better a reaction than Ronovi’s. She would have probably would have ripped those droids’ arms off and beat me with them.

Still stumbling and barely able to hear the Ryn over the ringing in his ears from the grenade, Arden shouted back.

“Because I know people in the holofilm industry who would love your work.”

That got the Ryn to stop and look back at Arden, which gave the human a chance to catch up. “What did ya say there? Holofilms?”

Panting slightly from having to run the Arconan down, Arden took a second to pull his words together but when he did, he spoke very excitedly. “Yeah, I know some producers back in the Corporate Sector, one of my second cousins in fact. Also know someone in the, um, ‘Exotic’ industry that owes me a favor, but your stuff, well, it’s better than that.”

The Ryn seemed both interested and skeptical in what Arden had to say, but still kept his distance. “But you spilled me whiskey. Not sure I can forgive that.”

“Valid point,” Arden answered with a slight nod, doing his best to not turn into a total fanboy. “And for that I’m sorry. I owe you a bottle, though I mostly drink Corellian Brandy. Once we get out of here, I’ll get you whatever. Truce?”

Holofilms, autographs, ‘exotic’ films. What is this one playin’ at? He coulda shot me legs out with that bloody rifle, so mayhap he ain’t here ta kill me. Which means...aw kark.

Kordath kept his face neutral as the thoughts raced; Arden here was exactly why he had to have security at book signings. An over-enthusiastic fan or more impolitely put a stalker. This was a mess, the publisher usually arranged for guards and the like to quietly remove such people from events when they got overly creepy. Such as chasing Bleu through the wrecked corridors of a dilapidated, battle droid-infested and booby-trapped Clone Wars-era vessel.

“Aye. Truce. For now,” the Ryn muttered the last bit under his breath as he and the Human both stepped over an old tripwire without breaking stride. Bleu was almost certain they were closing in on the Herald’s hidden banner; the halls were getting more and more treacherous to traverse.

“Though we’re both after Sorenn’s lil’ favor down here, methinks?”

The Human shrugged at him, Kordath interrupting him mid-spiel about holofilms and guest starring in a role, since he, of course, helped arrange the whole thing he deserved a spot.

“I mean, yes, it's worth some credits and that wouldn’t hurt my pockets.”

Kord nodded, greed was a decent enough reason, the saucy captain’s favor wasn’t anything to sneer at either. Bleu cringed as Arden raised his rifle, the stock tucked in as he fired blaster bolts down the hall at a wandering droid. Things were a bloody nuisance. The Ryn straightened his jacket and stood a bit straighter, glaring down the corridor.

“Right, so which of us is takin’ it back, eh? My need is slightly more pressin’ than a bit o’ coin. Made a bit of a drunken arse of meself when I came aboard, seein’ as tha Captain and me is old acquaintances and all. The hug she laughed off and all that, even in front o’ her bridge crew, but the tail has got a mind of its own it does.”

The look Arden gave him spoke of morbid curiosity. Bleu sighed and continued his tale.

“I uhh, it rather, sorta kinda mighta given her a good swat ta tha arse. If she’d not been Captaining at tha time she mighta thought it funny, yeah? But I did it in front of her crew full of bleedin’ pirates, so now it’s ‘Go get the banner down in the Gauntlet or so help me, Bleu, I’ll space you!’ Nobody got a sense of humor no more, I tell ya.”

“She’s going to shove you out an airlock if you don’t come back with a piece of cloth!?”

“Aye,” spoke the Ryn sorrowfully, “and with me current book only half done.”

Kordath shook his head and sighed, kicking a piece of scrap while looking like the most dejected and miserable bloke in the Galaxy. He made it a few steps before stopping to look back at Arden, who’d stopped, hands clutching his rifle.

“Course, mate, ya help a Ryn out and ya might find yerself with an advance copy before tha editors get a hold of it and all that. Signed, all tha wee lil’ notes in tha margins and such. Bloody collector’s item that’ll be.”

With a shrug Bleu kept walking, taking a turn down the hall that the droid had come from. He was relying on the age old method of ‘the enemy came from that way, I’m going the right way’ for this job. If his fast talking and sleemo dealings with the Human kept him from getting shot in the back and got him the banner so much the better. He didn’t much want to go for a spacewalk without a suit if he came back without it.

Bloody Ryn is laying it on awfully thick. Tail swatting the captain? If I didn’t need him to make a karkload of credits I’d leave him to his fate.

Arden nodded and followed the Ryn as he seemed to have the right idea in heading the direction the droids were coming from. He still had his doubts that this banner was even actually down here, but there was little reason to do anything other than continuing the search. The Ryn was clearly going to keep looking and his staying alive was to the Plagueian’s benefit, for now anyway. Another turn led them to a corridor darker and strewn with even more debris than the others. Only a single light panel functioned in the several dozen meter length and even it was flickering. However, it was enough to illuminate a black banner with the crest of the Herald on it. The Ryn looked back at Arden with a wry grin.

“Well mate, we might just get out of this.”

Arden nodded but then narrowed his eyes slightly before he replied. “I wouldn’t be so confident. This looks way too easy, which means it’s not.”

“Of course it’s not,” Kordath answered. “That’s what makes it fun.”

Arden’s gaze remained stern. “That’s also what gets you dead.”

As the Ettian started reaching out with the Force to make it easier to see in the dark, he started looking for things like tripwires or concealed mines. Between the pirates and the Herald, he could think of a dozen ways to turn this corridor into a deathtrap. It was all a matter of figuring out which one they used. Focus and careful planning was the key to making it through this.

Problem was the Ryn was a bit more impulsive than that.

“Come on mate, what’s the worst that could happen?” Before Arden could answer, Kordath started scampering towards the banner. Arden sighed and started following after him. They’d only made it about ten meters when the Ryn stepped in between a set a couple pieces of debris and there was a loud creak in the floor. The Force managed to warn Arden before he took another step, but there was little the Ryn could do as what looked like a solid deck plate buckled and then fell away revealing a section open to space below. It was more than likely a clever trap, one that nearly caught them both

The Ryn couldn’t help but yelp as he fell, but the moment of warning the Force had provided him gave him the chance to catch himself. To make matters slightly worse, some of the debris had fallen along with the Ryn, sharp pieces of metal cutting into his arms and thighs before clattering against the magnetic field that kept out the vacuum of space.

“Yeowch!” Kordath shouted. “Not good, not good.”

Arden wasn’t sure what to do. The gap in the floor was one he could easily jump with the aid of the Force. It would be all too easy to leave the Ryn to his fate, which seeing how his grip was quickly failing, could very well be death either by the fall or by the captain if he did make it out. Both sounded like fitting ends for the Ryn.

“C’mon mate! Gonna fall here!” The look on Kordath’s face was even more pitiful than it had been moments ago coupled with a fair bit of fear. Arden took a deep breath as the Ryn looked him straight in the eye. The human blinked and, just as Kordath started to slip, reached down and grabbed the Ryn’s arms. Straining a bit and calling on the Force to assist, Arden managed to pull the Ryn back up onto the solid part of the deck.

Kordath gasped for breath as he got back to his feet. Looking over to Arden with a sense of relief, he exhaled and said,

“Almost thought ya were gonna let me fall”.

“I almost did,” Arden replied. “But I figured you could make us both a lot of credits alive. Besides, I need something other than boring war novels to read. Now go get that flag and let’s get out of here.”

“...and what about Jin and Polly?” asked the Human, his questions getting on Kord’s nerves as they checked another side passage. The Ryn wasn’t sure why he thought the corridor they were on was the right one, other than all the traps they’d come across or defunct battle droids, but it felt right.

“I am nae givin’ ya any spoilers about tha next volume, mate.”

“Awww come on! You’re already giving me an advance!” whined Arden as Bleu popped a hatch open. The armored man swept the entry with his rifle and stated, “Clear.”

“There’s a difference between an advance and ruinin’ tha whole bleedin’ story. Side’s, it ain’t done yet, things might change."

A bend in the hall ahead of them slowed their pace and gave the Arconan a moment of silence. Ever since he’d offered up a free look at the book, the Human hadn’t shut up. They rounded the turn much as they had previous ones, the shorter man creeping low while Arden’s rifle was tucked into his shoulder. Kord didn’t even jump anymore when the weapon went off. A trio of battle droids stuck on an endless patrol that consisted of following one another in a short circle fell without so much as a ‘Roger’. It was unnerving.

So ready ta be off this bleedin’ ship.

“Right, so, that brings ya up ta what, an even dozen of those clankers? Must be runnin’ out o’ droids...oi,” Bleu straightened up mid-speech, eyes locking on to something in the distance. Cloth, fluttering in the recycled air, the stylized crest of the Herald adorning it. “There it be, mate, we’re in the homestretch.”

“Slow and easy, sure to be more traps.”

“Wot, you expected me ta go runnin’ full tilt, see how many of ‘em I could trigger? I like me tail attached.”

“Not before I get my copy,” he heard the Human mumble.

Giving the fallen droids a wide berth and keeping an eye ahead for tripwires, the Ryn having unslung his staff to poke at suspicious deck plating, they made slow but steady time. They came to a torn open blast door that lead onto a catwalk, the banner hanging a few meters in on a small platform. Kord looked around, certain there’d be automated defenses of some kind but found nothing. A few smaller platforms ringed the massive, open area, some of which looked as if they could be used to get to other walkways. An idea started to form in the Arconan’s brain, grinding away as he almost unconsciously plotted escape routes.

The abused metal groaned in protest as they stepped on it, the pair walking cautiously until the banner was almost in reach. With a creak the catwalk shifted and nearly tossed the two men off of it, Arden wrapping an arm around one of the rails with a curse as his rifle tumbled into darkness. Kordath looked like a startled Loth cat, limbs splayed and tail up in the air as he hugged the grated floor. When the tremors and noise stopped he rose to his feet, slowly.

Bleu licked his lips and stuck his staff out, craning, tail flicking about as a counterbalance as he leaned forward. When the end of his weapon reached the banner he twisted it, wrapping some of the fabric up and jerking the whole thing free.

“Got it? Good, let’s get out of here!”

Could be he’s legit, could be he’s still gonna shoot me in tha back when we’re almost out. Either way, he’s a creep, thought the Ryn. Fate had other plans as a cadre of surprisingly well-kept droids came into view through the entrance. Bugger, they booby trapped the banner, eh? Cute, Sorenn, cute.

Even as Arden pulled out and began firing his pistol at the approaching droids, Kordath threw caution to the wind and ran down the catwalk in a crouch. With a leap that was more hope than certainty, he landed on one of the side platforms and went for the next. By the time the Human realized what was going on, the Ryn was pulling himself over the handrail of another catwalk, banner under one arm. He turned and gave the Human a small salute.

“Oh you little…” he heard Arden say as he fled, hoping the droids dealt with the man. He’d wasted the whiskey, after all.