Oricon, the base of the ancient Dread Masters and nearly lost to time is steeped in the Dark Side, echoing the influences of both the Dread Masters and Darth Vitus before them. The landscape is an unforgiving nightmarescape of lava flows and volcanic rock dotted with strange plants and starship wrecks from a battle thousands of years ago. The smoky, sulfuric air of the surface nearly chokes most humanoids as it forces their eyes to adjust to the foggy haze illuminated by the soft glow of the lava flows. Tall, luminous blood ferns adorn the landscape, surrounded by vicious predators hardy enough to survive the intense conditions. Trenches and outcroppings formed from flowing lava serve to make footing uneven, adding yet another treacherous element to this already dangerous world. In the distance, the ruins of an ancient tower call out to those that can sense its terror—the fabled fortress of the Dread Masters. Remnants of ancient cults can be seen here and there, from wrecked huts to blood-stained altars and crumbling oubliettes.

A’lora breathed in the ozone through a swatch of cloth, inhaling the stench of sulfur and smoke with it. Small depressions in the volcanic ash followed her wake; each footstep and stab of her quarterstaff leaving a clear trail that she did not bother to cover; she had already been here for several rotations without signs of life.

Nightmares and visions plagued the Togruta since her arrival on Oricon, beginning with the echoes of the Dread Masters scratching and probing at her thoughts. Ever since, she had witnessed horrific apparitions summoned from the darkest reaches of her mind. A great fleet she once saw over the haze, reminiscent of the same vessels that bombarded Harakoa. Sticking out from between two crashed shuttles, the droid hand of Solari reached skyward clutching a dark gem. Unearthed, it was no more than an arm belonging to a protocol droid’s chassis, the gem an obsidian rock of  no significance.

All of these illusions were meant to bring madness, but all she felt was a sense of unshakable purpose.

Metal screeched in protest as the former High Councillor reached out to grab at a starship’s panel, long since corroded from the tests of time and weakened under the constant heat of the atmosphere. Grasping with one arm, she pulled at the sheet of durasteel until it fell aside with a heavy ‘thud.’ falling naturally off its hinges without much assistance. Inside, a machine lie dormant from a time long before the Clone Wars, a thick cover of ash concealing its sole vidscreen.

“Hope against hope, that this still works,” A’lora wished aloud. Brushing a hand along the vidscreen, the dust collected to the underside of her palm. A light blinked once, twice, before something inside whirred to life. Finally, beyond the terror and corruption of Oricon, something yet lived.

“Oricon is no place for scavengers, or common thieves,” Rasilvenaira mused to herself from the shaded den made of an overhead wing, “This is the one I was told to find.”

Seeking to preserve her advantage for as long as possible, the assassin clung to the hulls and engines of dormant ships while she inched closer to the Togruta’s lavender form. Locking around the hilt, the fingers of Rasilvenaira’s right hand closed around Arashi-Kumori, her favoured dagger, bladed on both ends and dripping with venom.

Klaxons burst in her head when something beneath her left hand moved, beginning a chain reaction of  metal scraping against metal. Fearing that she would be seen, and so lose her element, the Human concealed herself with a wave of her hand. Her heartbeat grew faster, louder, until she was certain that her opponent could hear it over the roar of distant volcanoes.

A’lora brought the Neti-wood staff to bear against an unseen foe. Whether it was the paranoia she felt from the whispers in her ear or the conditioning she had after trading blows with Inquisitors for so long, she stood unmoving for several long moments, just listening. It was more than the sense of impending doom that the Force filtered through her mind; she felt a presence where nothing existed, the extrasensory montrals extending from her head offering a feeling that something was within her proximity, moving ever so slightly.

Rasilvenaira fought the urge to move her hand over her heart, to stop it from being heard. Her breath began to hitch when the voices began in her mind, as well, “She knows. You are vulnerable. In broad daylight; did you not think for but a moment that a Seer could not see past your weak attempts to hide?” The voices alternated, belonging to different members of the now-dead Dread Masters. She inhaled and held that breath, focusing on the pounding in her chest and maintaining her connection to the Force. The Councillor of the Jedi turned her gaze, staring at the distortions of light that wrapped around the Shadow. Setting the Neti-branch against the hull of the ship she was examining, the former Consul produced the elongated hilt of her lightsaber. It clicked several times as she twisted the mechanism, drawing one end of it further from the other until it almost matched her height. The opposite end ignited in a blaze of emerald, reflecting off the exposed metal surrounding them.

Realizing that she would faint if she held her breath for much longer, Rasilvenaira whispered a hoarse command into her comlink, “Veritas.”

“Yes, Master!”

Hearing the raspy metallic voice respond, Rasilvenaira nodded to herself. “Go now,” she commanded. Her obsidian hued eyes remained locked on the lavender Togruta and she pressed herself closer to the hull of derelict that concealed her. She scowled at the whispers that gnawed at her mind and instead sought to focus her mind on the mission. Kill the Jedi, then get off this gods-forsaken rock.

From the behind the Togruta, directly opposite of Rasilvenaira's current position, the distinct sound of metal scraping against rock could be heard as the assassin droid moved into view.

“Jedi scum, put down your weapon and come quietly. If you resist, I will have to kill you. I do hope you plan to resist of course.” Veritas' metallic voice shattered the silence.

Rasilvenaira frowned, shaking her head quietly. I really do need to fix his programming again.

As A'lora turned to face the droid, weapon drawn, Rasilvenaira began to move as well. The droid would serve at least as a distraction, even if he wasn't truly equipped to handle a Jedi. She adjusted her grip on the Arashi-Kumori as she snuck closer. The Force nagged at her, as did the whispers and feeling of utter madness that clung to the planet. Somehow she really didn't think the Jedi would make her job that easy.

Just as the Sith prepared to strike, the Togruta spun around with a sweep of her saber's extended reach. Rasilvenaira was forced to break off and drop to the ashy ground to avoid being skewered. She scrambled back to her feet and circled out of reach, then cast a glare at her droid.

“Veritas! Be helpful or get scrapped!” she growled.

“New directive: Kill the Jedi scum,” Veritas’ vocabulated voice announced with simulated glee. Raised to chest height in imitation of Imperial soldiers, the HK-series companion clasped its metallic fingers around the hilt of a rather unimposing durasteel dagger in a reversed grip. Its battle-tarnished edge glinted in the light of flowing lava, coming around to slash at the Togruta’s shoulder blade.

At the same time, the Palatinae recovered enough to crouch just out of arms' reach. Pushing off with her back foot, the Sith struck in unison with Veritas, one of the two lightsabers on her belt detaching itself from the clip as it was summoned to her outstretched palm.

Left with no room to outmaneuver either opponent, the Councillor choose instead to minimize her injuries. Lunging forward to meet the crimson blade of the Sith, A’lora’s green-hued blade clashed against it with a hiss. The long handle of the Togruta’s lightsaber pushed forward as the streams of plasma locked together, knocking the Arashi-Kumori’s strike wide of its mark. At her back, the HK unit’s dagger lost the valuable lack of distance it needed to find purchase in one - or more - of the Jedi’s vital organs, instead making a shallow cut along her shoulder.

Hearing the shift of ash beneath her feet and the clatter of metallic boots advancing, the former Consul threw her might into the lock, pushing with just enough force to sidestep out of the droid’s charge. Now facing each of her assailants, she turned her focus from one to the other, formulating an angle of approach.

As she glanced from one to the other, the Jedi’s sight distorted, along with her other senses. Knowing full well the effects of poisonous substances in the bloodstreams of all but the most complex physiologies, Rasilvenaira couldn’t help but wonder which hallucinations the Councillor was facing.

“Oh, how I love the effects of hallucinogens! It so makes trifling encounters less tedious,” Veritas remarked, the droid’s voice losing its metallic elements as it took on a baritone hue.

Hue? Now I’m seeing sounds, the Togruta’s inner voice observed.

Sharing a chassis, each of the HK unit’s appendages became three, weaving in and out of existence as its dagger-wielding arm traced random patterns designed to confuse, rather than maim.

There’s just one - focus!   Unable to withstand against a constant beam of plasma, Vertias’ arm severed at the elbow, the lightsaber passing through all three of the possible appendages in a scything arc that melted metal in its wake. It returned along the same passage when the HK-series model strode forth with its other arm outstretched, its obsidian fingers seeking to choke the life out of the “Jedi scum” it so desired to exterminate.

“Veritas!” StormRaven screamed above the roar of distant volcanos. Though she was well aware that a droid could be recovered, she nonetheless cherished their companionship over that of organic beings. Trailing a crimson semicircle, her lightsaber’s blade bled against her opponents in a series of unorthodox strikes and flourishes. The Arashi-Kumori left her fingers, replaced with a second lightsaber that materialized in her grip.

A’lora’s own lightsaber clicked between strikes intercepting her opponent’s, collapsing down to the length of a traditional saberstaff. Realigned, the cerulean focusing crystal at its other end triggered the ignition of a second emitter, mismatched from the color of the first.

Chromatic flashes followed each block, strike and jab that the combatants traded beneath the sulfur-infused haze. Rasilvenaira, a voice called to her through the smoke and ash, End this madness! You are outmatched, child.

Though she could not have known the difference, A’lora, too, had heard the voices and so echoed them to the Palatinae through the Force. Leaving the confines of her shirt, the pendant she wore in homage to the Sith Lords of old hung free, visible from her peripheral vision. Another time, then.

As the two combatants shared a last glance to remember each other by, darkness began to engulf their contrasting forms a moment before the Togruta felt a sting on her finger, the debilitating poison injecting into her bloodstream. She felt sick, a knot forming in her stomach as she fought to regain her senses. She blinked once, twice as the darkness subsided, but in the time it took for her to regain control, not even the droid’s chassis was within sight.

“We’ll meet again.”