The greatest structure still standing on the volcanic moon of [Oricon], the ruined fortress that once served as the headquarters of the [Dread Masters], remains as a beacon of darkness. Impenetrable at its heart, the fortress is surrounded by a lava moat with a single bridge for access with walls two stories high and crafted of the hardest permacrete. Its walkways and open courtyards are decorated with eternally-burning braziers, hanging and broken chains, and even plaques and murals depicting acts of tyranny and strength. Statues, obelisks and pillars show signs of aging, crumbling, cracked and ruined, though their fearsome, ancient Sith visages still stand as a testament to the Dark Side and the imposing power that the masters of the fortress willed upon their visitors.

Down into the central palace and through one of the two sets of staircases lays the ruins of the atrium. It has long been looted for all of its artifacts and knowledge, left bare by the raiding and marauding of treasure hunters and researchers. Four side-chambers lead down, two to the left and right, deeper—these rooms, all abandoned, hold obelisks fused into the very stonework of the floor. Ancient Sith wisdom is etched into each one—messages of fear, of control, of domination and madness alike.

At the very rear of the palace is a large, tall stairway, leading up into what can only be considered the throne room of the wicked Council. A seven-sided platform sits atop a bottomless pit, with the walkway from the doorway taking up one side flanked by six green crystals. The remaining six edges are dedicated to walkways ending in a dais, resting upon which are the tall thrones topped with crystal where the ancient Masters of Dread once sat.

Tarvitz’s footsteps echoed off of the cracked ancient walls as he walked deeper inside the ruined citadel, one hand resting upon the hilt of his sword. In the two standard weeks he had spent guarding this place, it had barely been left out of his reach. Despite its abandoned nature, despite the clouds of centuries old dust he had kicked up with every footstep, Tarvitz could feel the Dread Fortress’ foulness in his every waking moment.

In his travels he had known worlds which had been overrun by life, even those which practically glowed within the Force, but the dead Masters' crumbling seat of power was a canker at this world’s heart. It was a void, a bleak nightmare so enriched with the foulness of its lords that seemed to repel life, an abomination in every sense. Quite why the Jedi of these worlds had not annihilated it was beyond him. Instead, Lotus had tasked him with guarding the few dark relics which remained there, especially those who would use it to claim the Iron Throne for themselves.

In Pravus’ absence, the desperate and the damned had begun to flock to this place. In ever growing numbers they had charged in, searching for anything which looked like an item of power, heedless of the dangers. Most were lesser underlings of the Grand Master, attempting to turn recent events to their advantage, or raiders hired by Sith too craven to put themselves at risk. Few had made it past the front gates, until now.

This latest intruder had displayed remarkable aptitude in avoiding the traps which had felled so many of his predecessors. There was nothing random or clumsy in his search. In fact, only the chance sighting of a billowing coat in the wind had permitted Tarvitz to even know he was not alone, and by that time he had already made his way halfway to the throne-room.

The targeting crosshairs of Tarvitz’s helmet moved over the broken stonework, seeking possible threats as he advanced after the intruder, but finding nothing. He might have expected a few lackeys to lie in wait, or even a few mines to slow his advance but, try as he might, there was simply nothing there to slow his pursuit. In fact, the Jensaarai saw nothing more of him, until he came upon the throne-room in question. Bathed in the sickly green light which illuminated his surroundings, the man waited at the edge of the room’s angular platform. Crouched in one corner and quietly pocketing something, he half turning towards Tarvitz as he advanced inside.

“Don’t suppose you could be convinced to talk this out?” the intruder called, rising to his feet and letting both hands fall to a traditional gunslinger’s stance.

“Gladly,” Tarvitz laughed “Drop whatever that is and and we can talk as much as you like on your way out of here; but something tells me you’re hardly about to agree to those terms.”

“Not this time,” he said, holding up a coin “So, draw when it hits the floor?”

With a reluctant sigh augmented by his helmet’s speakers, Tarvitz nodded, already weighing his options to quickly end this duel before it started. The man flipped the coin, allowing it to sail through the air for a few seconds, counting the moments before it hit the ground. It almost managed to drop halfway to the ground, before both of them reached for their weapons.

Tarvitz tore an ion grenade free from his belt, hurling it squarely at the man’s chest as he draw the first of his pistols. Yet rather than opening fire, he punched out with his free hand. The coin shot forwards in the air, joined by a whirlwind of shattered masonry as they gathered into a single cloud of fast moving debris. Several chunks struck the grenade as they raced towards Tarvitz, knocking it off course and triggering its detonation between the two combatants, wreathing the area before them in blue lightning.

“What in hell-?” be breathed, recognizing the Jensaarai technique.

Allowing his training to take over Tarvitz instinctively dropped to one knee, punching the ground and feeling the Force reinforcing his skin. Several projectiles smashed into him, chipping away at the plating and even ripping one pauldron free under the barrage. By the time he had recovered, staggering upright and calling his lightsaber to his hand, the man had drawn his other weapon and opened fire.

Terran dove to his right, a hail of blue bolts lancing through the air and filling the vaulted chamber with a burnt-ozone stench. He landed lightly, rolling over his shoulder and into a crouch, just in time to see the would-be Clone Trooper's lightsaber snap-hiss into existence. The crimson blade swung in a curt arc, intersecting the bolts and scattering them across the throne room's time-worn walls. A grin tugged at the corner of the Kiffar's lips and he snorted as he sheathed a blaster and pulled a grenade from one of his duster's many pockets.

"A Clone Trooper with a lightsaber," Terran quipped, sidling behind a nearby column and pressing his back to the cold duracrete surface. "Did you go bandit and get lost for a few decades? Or is there a convention in town and nobody told me?"

The armored man laughed as Terran felt his duster's left outer pocket. The Arconan breathed a small sigh, then quickly transferred the newly-acquired datacard to a sealable flap inside his coat.

"Neither," the big man replied, the slow clack of plasteel on stone marking his steady steps as he moved towards the Arcanist's position. "The Lotus ordered these artifacts guarded. As for the armor...they just don't make 'em like they used to."

Of course he's a Jedi, groaned the Arconan to himself. He briefly debated telling the Odanite about the datacard, and about the suspected One Sith safe houses to which it led. The same safe houses where a certain missing Grand Master might be holed up. A tree can shed a single leaf in silence. But the seasons can't change unnoticed. The Saarai-kaar had been fond of her sayings, and the former Jensaarai could still hear her slow, scratchy voice in the back of his mind.

With growl of frustration, Terran swapped one grenade for another, depressed the activator and rolled the small ball out past the column's edge, counting on the residual ion energy from the Jedi's droid popper to muck up his visual sensors. The grenade clattered lightly across the chipped stone and the ersatz Clone Trooper's helmet turned to follow the sound, as the Kiffar dashed in the opposite direction. A loud pop echoed through the cavernous chamber as the grenade detonated, bathing the area in adhesive. The Jedi moved at the same instant, a Force-fueled leap carrying him back from the glop. He landed just outside of its range, but not before a sticky smear splattered across his visor.

The Odanite ripped the helmet from his head with a growl of his own, tossing it to the ground and stalking methodically towards the Arconan. Terran winced at the scarred and burned face, reminded of nothing so much as a poorly-cooked nerf steak left too long in the sun. Still, he couldn't help wondering if the Human's ion grenade had affected his green cybernetic eye as well. Surrendering to the inevitable, the Kiffar tossed his blaster from his right hand to his left, then twisted his wrist in a precise pattern. Terran's lightsaber flew from its spring-loaded sheath and he caught it adroitly, lighting the blade with a liquid flourish.

Bringing his blade horizontal, his blaster hand held down and away from his body, the Arconan leaped towards the Jedi. His lunge ate the distance between them and Terran's ochre blade came down as the resolute Jedi's slashed up. The two met in the middle, sparks flying as their sabers locked. The hulking Human shoved Terran back handily and the Kiffar stumbled briefly before regaining his footing. The Force keened at him and he moved without thought, quicker than thought. He drew on the energy around him, felt it suffuse his muscles as he rode the currents of life itself that guided his hands. His blade struck up and to the right, parrying a thrust to his ribs. But the Jedi's saber swirled in the same eddies and caught the Arconan's riposte, dashing his blade to the crumbling stones beneath their feet. Terran felt his hand moving before he knew it had begun, his blaster rising with preternatural speed. His dexterous fingers were lightning, flipping the WESTAR-35 end-over-end and catching it by the barrel, then slamming the butt into the Human's sun-lined cheek.

A sharp crack filled the space between them and the Odanite staggered, left hand raising unconsciously to his his torn and bloodied cheek. Saber free, the Kiffar immediately barreled into the Juggernaut, knocking him back bodily.

Then he turned and ran.

Tarvitz managed to catch himself before he topped over, skidding to a halt a few paces before he hurtled over the platform's edge. His opponent's last blow had left the taste of blood in his mouth, and residual ion energy was playing havoc with his implant. The timeworn stonework and leering statues of the long dead horrors who had once called this place their home seemed to come alive amid the static, flickering with some half-seen illusion of movement. Focusing upon the echoing clamor of running footsteps, Tarvitz squinted, managing to pick out the running form of his opponent racing for the doors with all haste.

"I suggest you get back here," Tarvitz called, advancing in a brisk walk, switching his lightsaber to his free hand as he pulled something tipped with a jagged durasteel head from his belt.

The man didn't listen, nor did he bother to even look back in his haste to flee the Fortress.

"I said get over here!" Tarvitz yelled, any previous laughter now absent from his voice.

Raising the grappling hook he thumbed the activation stud, feeling it kick in his left hand. The bladed head sliced through the air, crossing the few meters Tarvitz's enemy had gained on him in a heartbeat. Designed to bury itself in solid rock, flesh provided little resistance to the angular hook and it burrowed through his shoulder, emerging on the other side with a wet explosion of crimson. Tarvitz winced at the scream that followed, but didn't hesitate as the rope in his hand snapped taut. Allowing the Force to flow through him, he felt it bolstering his already considerable strength, pulled back in one abrupt and singular motion; dragging his foe off of his feet and sending him sprawling onto the ground.

Landing heavily, the man twisted, raising his lightsaber to hack away at the rope firmly lodged into his shoulder. With its job done, Tarvitz dropped the other end of the grapple and pushed out with the Force, ripping the blade from his foe's weakened grip. It skittered away into the darkness, lost on the edge's of the platform. He tried to rise, only for Tarvitz to telekinetically shunt him back onto the ground. A lucky shot had downed him rather than any actual skill on Tarvitz's part - he had been aiming for his leg after all - and he was hardly about to permit his enemy any opportunity to flee.

Unleashing a torrent of profanities, the man briefly seemed to consider raising his rifle as Tarvitz closed in before calling upon the Force once more. A storm of rocky fragments and debris erupted about his hands, whirling through the air before him as he pushed outwards. Tarvitz allowed himself a slight smirk. Surprise had permitted that to work once, but expecting it to almost down him for a second time was the height of overconfidence.

Moments before the man sent the storm of shrapnel hurtling towards the approaching Jensaarai, Tarvitz responded in kind. Yet, rather than calling upon his ever present ally for assistance, he reached out by draining its energies from their surroundings and suppressing what little remained. Half of the rocks simply dropped from the air, and the remaining few rained off of Tarvitz's ruined plating, barely slowing him mid-stride as he came to a standstill above his fallen foe, leveling the tip of his blade at his neck.

"I thought Jedi were merciful," he grunted through the pain, momentarily aiming the rifle at Tarvitz before allowing it to drop from his hands.

"Very merciful," Tarvitz nodded, almost immediately regretting the gesture thanks to the thudding pain in his head "You're not dead, for one thing, and I am not about to let you bleed out. That said, you are attempting to steal from here..."

Tarvitz let the words hang in the air for a moment, and then rolled his eyes, gesturing for the man to hand over whatever he had pillaged. Gingerly, he withdrew a slender datacard from one coat pocket, letting it hit the stone floor. Tarvitz raised his remaining eyebrow. This was not what he had expected at all.

"What now?" the man managed "You let me walk away, just like that?"

"Not exactly," Tarvitz admitted after a few moments, reluctantly extinguishing the blade before offering a hand "First, I think you and I need to have a brief chat about why you are here, and who taught you a little trick I thought was unique to my kind..."

Terran raced down the crumbling hallway, deftly dodging fallen bits of ceiling and tumbled-down statuettes that littered the stone floor, the sound of Tarvitz's footsteps echoing in his wake.

Why hadn't he confided in the Odanite? The Saarai-kaar's words floated to the top of the swirling maelstrom of adrenalized musings storming through his mind. So too did the woofing chuckle of Isshwarr's laugh, mocking his justifications. "You've never cared overly much about right or wrong, wisdom or foolery." The matronly Wookiee's incongruously gentle voice teased him. "You may love justice, but you love winning more. And you always will." The words stung like a switch from a freshly cut branch and they filled his mind as his footsteps filled the interminable corridor.

A stitch grew in the Kiffar's sides and he tried to smother the thoughts as he paused to scan his surroundings. A soft glow far in the distance, barely visible over his saber's ochre light, presaged the hallway's end. Aside from that small detail, the corridor appeared identical before and behind. Still, something nagged at the Arconan, staying his itchy feet. "You're always running," came the imagined Wookiee's rejoinder. "Always running. The Great Forest Spirit help you if you ever stop."

Run.

Run!

And suddenly, he wasn't sure if the voice was Isshwarr's or his own. His cobalt eyes darted fore and aft, at the unbroken corridor. Something was missing. He took a single soft step, and heard it. His footstep. Only his footstep. He felt a whisper on the back of his neck, the Force's subtle croon, and raised his saber as he leaped away from the right-hand wall. His back hit solid stone and a chunk of the hall evaporated into a doorway. The Odanite stood beyond.

His blaster was raised, poised to fire, and Terran had the shortest of eternities to curse his own stubbornness. He raised his hand reflexively, the ochre light filling the space between them and bathing the pair in amber shadows. Then the blaster whined, spitting emerald fire.

It struck a translucent corona mere centimeters in front of his face, spattering into nothingness.

The Kiffar contained a sigh of relief. He was still trapped, unable to move, and the outsized power pack on Tarvitz's blaster didn't seem likely to die anytime soon. It would certainly outlast his defenses. The slow shots, steady as a metronome, impacted the barrier. A second shot, then a third, threatened to blind him with their emerald flashes. He could now see the doorways that dotted the hall at irregular intervals - doorways into a parallel passage. And now, only a few dozen meters ahead of him, he could see the obvious exit and the colossal stone bridge beyond. The landing pad was just past the bridge, bare minutes from him - if he had just kept running. That would have been the wiser course of action. It would have been a helluva lot less fun, though, he thought, as his barrier began to crack.

Terran sighed audibly, loudly even, and shut down his lightsaber, waving it towards Tarvitz in what he hoped was a conciliatory manner. The Odanite tilted his head briefly then stopped firing. His blaster never wavered. The Human cocked a single eyebrow and Terran mustered a sheepish grin.

"Alright, fine. You got me. We've both got bigger gundarks to wrestle. You want the artifact? It's yours."

Tarvitz eyed him skeptically. It was his only response.

With exaggerated slowness, the Arconan dropped the barrier and reached into his coat, pulling free a small necklace. The stone, strung between chain-linked palladium, was somehow inky and pearlescent at once. He tossed it to Tarvitz with a wistful sigh.

The Human caught it deftly, taking a moment to examine the piece of jewelry, then looking back at Terran sharply. "I can feel this means a lot to you."

"More than you know. But no job is worth your life. Eventually, we all have to learn to live with disappointment."

Tarvitz nodded in agreement, pocketing the necklace. "No hard feelings?"

"None," Terran replied, turning briskly on his heel and heading for the now-obvious exit. He looked back once as he stepped out into the harsh glare of Oricon's sun, hand snaking down to ensure the datacard was secure. The Jedi remained behind, ever the dutiful guardian. The Kiffar just hoped Tarvitz would guard his mother's pendant with half the fervor he'd shown today.

Honor was important. Honesty mattered. Family, especially those lost, could never be replaced.

But nothing beat winning.