Seated within the Glorious Jewel of the Hutts, the Winter Palace is situated on a remote island near the planet’s equator. Although blanketed with the pollution from Hutt industry, its location makes the climate hot and humid. Surrounded with trees and vines, it could be considered to be a paradise, even among the barren wasteland of Nal Hutta. Outside of the Winter Palace, a network of sewer pipes transfer the waste from the palace to wherever seems far enough to dump into the oceans surrounding the island. Flora and fauna that have adapted to the Hutt’s environmental changes thrive in the polluted forests surrounding the Winter Palace.

Stepping through its gilded gates, the lavish interior serves as the main audience chamber. Once belonging to the wealth of Jiliac Desilijic Tiron, the gleaming stone of the main aisle leads up to a Hutt’s dais lined with an expensive carpet. Beautiful tapestries line the high walls, telling of the sordid histories of those who woven them, awaiting execution in Jiliac’s dungeons.

Finally, the antechamber to the "throne" room is illuminated from above with high-skylighted ceilings. Constructed from lightly colored stone, the antechamber might have been where the late Hutt entertained his guests before an audience with spice and exotic dancers. In the hands of the Hutt Kajidics, however, these traditions have continued as the Winter Palace now serves as a front for criminal and business ventures that come and go.

He motioned to a member of the wait staff with a raised finger. The enticingly-attired Twi'lek woman gave the slightest nod of her head, placing another glass of viridescent fluid glittered as light passed through the clear container. Taking a sip, Bentre took careful note of the room's occupants. The task was easier, given the volume of the music and the way that alcohol seemed to flow more freely here.

Drawing a cautious, deep breath, the Shadow shifted Pazaak cards between his hands. A pair of guards, one human and one Quarren male, stood by the exit, watching the palace's patrons as they caroused. Thankfully the pair were a different set from the guards from his last trip here. The dancers were certainly a sight, but they were of little threat. Somehow, whenever he found himself away from Sepros, they always seemed to.

"Hey, are you going to play a card or did you just plan to sit there with your mouth hanging ajar?" The words of his opponent drew Bentre back to the task at hand. Looking from his cards back to his opponent, the Corellian Sith crinkled his nose in irritation. "What," the woman waved her hand in front of his face, "did I interrupt your daydream? Maybe you would like to go ahead and just stand if you are going to leave me waiting?"

The Shadow considered his cards thoughtfully for a moment. He had fifteen on the table, with two negative fives and a negative six, he was sitting in a pretty decent position. Smiling smugly, the man tapped the table, signifying his desire to stand. The droid turned from Stahoes to the woman, placing another card down on the table. Lucine smiled back at Bentre as she tapped her finger on the table, standing on a natural sixteen.

Nothing but a bit of luck, Stahoes groused to himself as the droid began to shuffle the cards between metallic fingers before placing the deck back on the table. The droid dealt the Battlelord a ten card, before dealing his opponent a five. A sense of ease brought a smile to the Shadow's face for just a moment. As he relished in the feeling, Bentre realized that something was off. A realization slowly dawned on the Sadowan Equite. Why would I stand on a fifteen with a negative five in hand? I take bigger risks than that while playing back at the bar on Sepros.

As he watched his opponent, the Battlelord could feel a tickle in the Force. She is trying to pull a fast one over on you, Benny. The dark voice burbled from his self-conscience with a hungry whisper. Don't tell me you are going to take that sitting down.

"Noah, sleemo," Bentre's words were low, barely audible over the ambient noise as he stood up, "Yoka to Bantha poodoo." He didn't know if the woman understood Huttese, but his tone seemed to get the point across as he lowered a hand to the blaster hanging at his side.

"I bet you would like that," the woman gave a half-smile, before throwing her own hand up from below the table. A flash of yellow sand was all that Stahoes could see before he felt a sharp burning sensation in his eyes. Shaking his head, the Corellian Sith loosed bellow of rage. Finally, after several moments of rubbing at his teary eyes, the Shadow managed to clear his vision enough to see that his opponent had vanished.

"Come on out! If you have guts enough to do that, you should have guts enough to take the whooping you earned for it." His words had garnered the attention of the other patrons of the Winter Palace.

From the corner of his eye, Stahoes saw the red-headed figure running toward the bar, toward a doorway out. Visualizing his rage as a ball, Bentre threw his hand out, slinging a lance of white-hot energy at the woman who had gained his ire. Bottles exploded as the attack missed its target and struck the shelf behind, showering the Rodian barkeeper in a shower of glittering glass. In desperation, the woman dove behind a sabaac table. The Shadow began to stalk toward the table, his anger fully stoked.

Suddenly, a fork of energy struck him in the chest, similar to the one that he had just used. The woman stood there for a moment, her hand outstretched.

"Fancy illusion. Let's see you outrun my blaster," Bentre growled.

As the Corellian reached for his weapon, Lucine gave him a smug smile. “What, you mean this blaster?” she asked in an innocent tone. She brought her hand from behind her back, showing him that she held his blaster between her thumb and forefinger. “You really should keep a closer eye on your belongings,” she said in a mocking voice.

Bentre froze, his eyes narrowing in anger. How did she— “Give that to me,” he snarled as he extended his hand, using the Force to pull the object toward him.

“If you insist, darling,” Lucine said with a shrug as she let go.

The blaster sailed through the air, and he caught it easily. But something was wrong; it did not feel heavy enough. Looking at his hand, he saw that he was holding the now empty bag of blinding dust. A quick downward glance proved that his weapon was still in its holster, where it belonged.

With a growl, he snatched up the blaster and looked up to see the redhead running for the exit once more. Letting instinct take over, he took aim and fired a volley of bolts at his retreating target. But the figure that crumpled to the ground was that of the Quarren guard.

Ooooh, the Hutts are not going to like that, the woman's voice echoed within his mind.

She's making a fool of you, Benny, the dark voice murmured.

You should work smarter, not harder, a second voice suggested helpfully.

Nodding slightly to himself, Bentre drew the Force around him, causing him to disappear from view. He stalked through the crowd, scanning the fleeing patrons for his prey. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar redhead and reflexively jerked his blaster toward his target. But he froze before he pulled the trigger and forced himself to look a second time. Under his scrutiny, the illusion fell away to reveal a fleeing Twi'lek. He allowed himself an icy smile. I'm on to your game, now.

Lucine surveyed the mass chaos with narrowed eyes. The fact that she could no longer see the Corellian was making her nervous. Her paranoia was made worse by the dull headache that told her she was starting to over-extend herself. Enough fun for now. It is time to go.

She began to creep along behind the bar, where she had hidden herself after placing the illusion on the guard. Seeing a nearby door, she made her way towards it, being careful to keep her head low. The Arconan pushed it open to reveal a kitchen; never in her life had she been so happy to see one before. Perfect!

Once she was safely out from behind the bar and the door was closed behind her, she stood up and brushed the broken glass from her clothes. She ignored the odd looks the cook-staff were giving her, making her way toward the door in the back of the room.

Suddenly, a shot rang out and a bolt of energy ricocheted off of a pot hanging near her head. She whirled to see Bentre standing just inside the door. “Going somewhere?” the Corellian asked with a grin.

Lucine's words caught in her throat as she planted a foot to stop her forward momentum. Turning, the Seeker started to run back toward the door she had come into the kitchen from. She heard a laugh behind her before the sound of a lightsaber reactivating reverberated in the close quarters of the kitchen. Kitchen workers pressed against the counters, giving her a wide berth in her barreling retreat. The seeker needed to get distance between herself and the scarred Sith.

"I can't let take off just-" Bentre paused mid-sentence. breaking the word off as though considering something. "Ah, but I will have to take the price for my troubles tonight out of your hide," the Sadowan called after the Arconan combatant as she passed through the doorway back into the antechamber. The woman kept assuring herself, all she needed was a little space and a moment to think and she would be able to put an end to this. Darting sideways, the Seeker's mind whirred as she considered her surroundings. Chairs, bottles, most of the patrons had either fled, or were now watching the tussle, with someone hooting as Lucine made a bee-line for the door.

Stahoes smiled as he walked almost leisurely out of the kitchen. As his eyes came to focus on the Arconan woman, he pulled back the hilt of the lightsaber now clutched in his left hand. With a grunt of exertion, he flung the weapon in a tight arc toward his intended target. In an act of desperation, Lucine stumbled sideways, reeling a bit as she struggled to keep her footing after the sudden shift in direction. The sapphire energy blade scored the ground before returning to the hand of its owner.

"That is enough!" A bright light flashed from the entrance door, and a trio of men in aged armor stepped in. The man in front, whom Bentre assumed to be the leader among them, was adorned in a set of grimy, Imperial-era stormtrooper armor. As two humanoids- a harried old Togruta and a Rodian female- flanked either side of the old human. As the man hefted his old E-11 blaster on one shoulder, Stahoes could see the glowlamp secured to the top of the weapon. The human pointed to Lucine and then Bentre. "Separate these two before they break more stuff," he lowered his weapon again, flashing the Sadowan Equite in the eyes again, "otherwise the boss is going to be more pissed than she already is."

Smiling softly, Lucine stepped toward the Rodian moving toward her. She raised a hand, speaking in a loud but gentle tone, "You really don't need to bother me. I was just leaving, when this man started causing problems."

The guard paused before she turned to the human guard. "I don't know Audrik, I think this might have been one-sided." She motioned toward the blue-robed Sadowan with her free hand.

The armor-clad guard nodded after a moment, considering the situation. "He does seem to be the only one with a weapon drawn at the moment. Secure him for a bit of questioning, or at least throw him into a holding cell long enough to cool his head. Can't have any Hutts coming down on our heads for letting him go without some sort of punishment."

"You little sleemo," Bentre yelled as the Rodian and Togrutan guards walked in to flank him. He caught sight of the red-headed Sith walking toward the door, but lost sight of her again as the pair drew closer to arrest him. Rage threatened to overtake him as he realized she was likely going to slip away. At current range, there was no guarantee he wouldn't catch some blaster fire upon trying to disable the guards. By the time he could look about the room again, it appeared she had slipped away.

You better run, cheeka, Bentre thought as the Togruta turned him to slap on the stuncuffs. This arrest mattered little to the Corellian. It wasn't as though it were his first, and they had very little to hold him on. A little time in a drunk tank was a feat he had pulled off often enough on Nar Shadda.

This is probably for the best, he assured himself, I generally like prey that can fight back a bit more anyway.

Lucine's look of surprise was quickly replaced by a pleasant smile. “Well, hello handsome,” she purred, as if she had been waiting for him instead of making an escape. She spread her arms wide in a gesture that could be interpreted as either a greeting or showing that she was unarmed. “As much fun as this has been, I really must be going. I have a mission to attend to. Are you doing anything after the war? I might have some free time to settle this then.”

The Corellian Sith was not taken in by her friendly demeanor. He kept his blaster trained on her. “Do you really think I am going to let you get away so easily? I still owe you a whooping for the blinding dust you threw into my eyes.”

Among other things, the dark voice added within his mind. Bentre absently nodded in agreement.

Lucine raised an eyebrow at this, but decided it would not be prudent to comment on the odd behavior of a man who was actively holding a gun on her. Instead, she decided to pursue the diplomatic approach. “Are you still angry about that? My, my, what a temper you have!” As she spoke, she considered her surroundings, trying to determine what her next step would be. The door behind her was too far away. He would easily be able to shoot her before she made it. The kitchen staff were fleeing the scene, so there would be no help there. Various other pieces of cookware hung from the ceiling; she could use that to her advantage. Out of the corner of her eye, she also noted three large pots upon the stove, thick steam rising from them. Gradually an idea began to form.

“But you know, I really do feel a little bad about that,” she said at last.

“I bet you do,” the Sadowan said dryly as he advanced a few steps. “You are going to feel worse in a few minutes.”

“Now, now, let's not get too hasty,” Lucine said, allowing a tinge of nervousness to creep into her voice as she retreated backward. “Violence really does not suit you, darling. I think it would be much better if you just forgot about the whole thing.”

Bentre narrowed his eyes as he felt another tickle of Force brush against his mind. “Not this time!” he snarled as he squeezed the trigger.

Lucine ducked to the side, but not nearly quick enough. She yelped as she felt the blaster bolt burn into her shoulder, the sickening smell of seared flesh combining with the aroma of cooking food. She gathered the Force around her and pushed. Pain and panic caused her to forgo finesse, instead using as much strength as she could muster to send cookware, knives, and even the pots of boiling liquid at her assailant.

She heard a splashing sound, followed shortly by a howl of pain, but did not bother to stop and admire her handiwork. Clutching her shoulder, she stumbled out the door.

Finding himself suddenly doused with scalding soup, the Corellian hastily tore off his cloak before the steaming liquid soaked through to his skin. He looked up in time to see the door close behind the redhead. His face contorted in an expression of rage. A moment later, it melted into a confused expression as Lucine's delayed suggestion took hold.

“Why am I in the kitchen?” he asked aloud.

You were trying to kill a redhead for cheating at Pazaak— and throwing blinding dust in your face, a voice replied promptly.

Bentre shook his head slowly. “No.... No, that was not it.” He brought a hand up to his forehead, searching his memory.

Maybe you got hungry? Another voice suggested.

“Maybe,” the Corellian agreed. He looked down with a grimace at his cloak. “But not for soup.”