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.

Keiji looked at the datapad he was holding and then at the palace before him. The area was correct according to the contact. His gaze drifted back down onto the pad. Supposedly somewhere inside the dreaded palace was a secret hidden room filled with artifacts and other loot that wasn’t yet ransacked… if rumors were to be believed. This trip better not be for nothing, Keiji thought as he started across the narrow stone bridge. Beneath him lay the moat of lava, which bubbled and sprayed as he crossed the earthy platform. Each step echoed as he moved closer to the destination. The gates to the other side were already slightly ajar. Keiji placed his hand to his sword and proceeded with caution.

The Togruta pushed the already slightly opened gate even further open, revealing the courtyard inside the walls. Tall, weathered stone obelisks and broken statues littered the area. Keiji still kept his hand at his waist, ready to draw the crimson blade at any moment. The further he progressed however, the more silent, aside from the burning fire braziers, it seemed. He continued walking until he passed by one of the statues. Turning to face it, he couldn’t see anyone around it, but his montrals detected that someone was right there in front of him now.

“You there, come out now,” Keiji ordered starting to slowly draw his blade. No response came. Yet the presence was still there, somewhere close to the statue. Keiji rolled his eyes and faced the direction of the disturbance. In one smooth motion, the Privateer drew one of his sleek, black pistols and fired blindly in front of himself. The rounds fired into the wall in front of him, but still managed to do as intended. Materializing from seemingly nowhere, a small grey humanoid figure appeared.

“Don’t shoot,” the Ryn shouted almost in panic. “Karkin’ 'ell mate, ain't no need fer shootin'.”

Keiji holstered the gun, but kept one hand on his sword. “Then why didn’t you answer me the first time?” Keiji inquired staring down the shorter male.

A slight chuckle escaped Kordath’s mouth. “In all honesty, mate, I thought ya were talkin' ta someone else,” he explained, shrugging his shoulders.

Keiji frowned beneath his faceplate. “Why are you here of all places?” Keiji questioned as his grip tightened around his blade. He simply hoped that he wasn’t here for the same reason as him.

“Oh you know, rumors, stories, treasure—” was about as far as Kordath got before he got the sense he should be quiet and get out of the way. Keiji quickly unsheathed and slashed his blade in one single motion, but only found air. Where the ryn’s image had been, as soon as the crimson sword touched it, it appeared to simply dissipate. Keiji could suddenly feel something leave the range of his horns. Looking in the general direction he saw nothing, but assumed that was the direction the Ryn had gone in. Sheathing the blade, Keiji chased after the last known direction.

What tha kark!?

Kordath Bleu ran on light feet down one of the ruined corridors, moving around fallen masonry and statues that lay in his path. He'd been sent to Oricon to investigate and recover, not tangle with a walking bloody tank. This was not how he saw his day going. He could hear the booted steps of the armored warrior pursuing him, having said something to the man that he didn't care for. A sense of alarm ran through the Ryn, prompting him to duck behind an upright statue of some robed figure. As he did so, several slugs smashed against the ancient stones, sending splinters in all directions.

“Well, that was a wee bit too close,” muttered the Arconan. He peeked around the edge of his cover to see the black-clad figure taking measured steps with twin pistols raised. The report of said guns firing echoed down the hall, a whizzing sound as he pulled back telling him how close the shots had come.

Bleu crouched and looked for his next option for cover, wondering how many bleedin’ shots the man's pistols had in them. Running low on options as the footsteps grew closer, Kordath pulled a flash grenade from his jacket and waited, slowing his breathing. As he did, he gathered the Force to himself, taking advantage of his momentary safety and channeling the energy to the muscles in his legs.

“You can't hide back there forever. Come out and surrender!”

“Are ya karkin’ serious, mate!? Ya tried ta cut me bleedin’ 'ead off just now, no deal!”

Almost too low to hear through the mask, Kordath caught a, “Have it your way, then,” from the man.

The Ryn counted to five as the footsteps closed in, before tossing his grenade out of cover and down the hall. Before the thing even hit the ground, the Arconan was running with preternatural speed in the opposite direction, juking left and right to avoid the inevitable gunshots. A flash of light lit the corridor, throwing long shadows of fallen statues past the fleeing Arcanist and silencing the slugthrowers behind him.

Keiji was not a happy Togruta; the flash grenade had overcome his thermal imaging that he'd been using in the shadowy hall to track the fleeing threat. His vision went dark as the system overloaded and his helmet rang from the concussive shockwave that accompanied the flash of light. Not one to waste ammo, he stopped shooting and sidestepped towards the nearest wall, relying on his montrals to lead him to cover should the Ryn have a nastier trick up his sleeve. Nothing came, and as the ringing in his head stopped and helmet’s visuals cleared up, he saw and heard nothing but the faintest echo of running footsteps once more.

It didn't occur to the goal-driven Odanite that he may have overreacted; he had a job to do and the odd little Force-user was an obstacle in his path. The Clan needed whatever secrets and artifacts that hadn't been scavenged already for the inevitable conflicts ahead. At the least, they could keep them out of the hands of any Sith who'd use them against the outnumbered Jedi.

He set off in pursuit once more.

Kordath wasn't having a great day, either, stumbling through darkened stairwells and halls, trusting his Force fueled senses to lead him to safety. Instead, they lead him deeper into the old fortress, to an unassuming door covered in scratches and dents. Signs of past attempts to pry or batter it down. Focusing his sight, with some assistance from the Force itself, he could make out an aberration in a mural opposite of the door.

The mural, much like many in the fortress, was of some great battle scene of an ancient and forgotten war. What stood out was a featureless banner, which, to his Force-heightened vision, looked as if it protruded from its surroundings. Tentatively, the Ryn pushed it in with a gentle touch, and heard a click behind him and the sound of ancient gears turning.

“Huh,” said the Arconan as the door opened up, catching a glimpse of old, cube- and pyramid-shaped items on shelves. They glowed with inner light and power. “Well alright, not a wasted trip.”

A warning from the Force screamed down his spine, causing the Ryn to duck moments before a heavy crimson blade gouged part of the wall above him out.

“Kark!”

Keiji immediately brought the blade back and went for an overhead swing. Kordath quickly rolled out of the way, but not before having his tail grab one of the glowing artifacts on the lowest shelf. The object bobbed and swayed gently with the movement of his tail.

There was always one fainter noise, which was growing louder at this point, that Keiji had heard but never been able to place. It sounded much like the Ryn’s footfalls, but faster, and sounded like metal scraping stone. He watched as Kordath threw the object in his tail at the door way. A small black droid was now there, somewhat startling Keiji. They both watched as one of the droids clawed hands reached down and picked up the glowing pyramid-shaped object.

“So that’s what that noise was,” Keiji said as he pieced the puzzle together. The thing had a damn droid to help him. As his gaze shifted back to his small opponent, he found the Ryn had placed small metal objects on his hands. Brass knuckles? Huh, been awhile since I’ve seen those in use, Keiji thought as he held his sword in a defensive pose. Though his pose did little to help. One foot forward and his sword straight up seemed to only help Kordath with his attack. Allowing the Force to fuel his strikes, the small Ryn rushed forward and smashed his closed fist into Keiji’s knee. The force behind the strike was far greater than the Togruta had expected and was forced to take a knee. Kordath then used his hands to stand on the other knee and gave a swift spin kick to Keiji’s head.

The strikes hurt Keiji more than he thought. After reeling back from the hits, the Ordanite shook his head to focus and stared back at his opponent. This man was clearly well trained in the martial arts. He saw Kordath charging again, doing spins and kicks that seemed more showy than actual combat maneuvers. As he got closer, and started striking the Togruta’s elbows and knees, Keiji found that the strikes weren’t as powerful as before. Throwing out his own strikes, the Ryn would simply spin out of the way and strike. Only occasional blows seemed to do more damage than others as the Ryn bobbed about the tall figure.

“That’s ENOUGH!” Keiji yelled as he finally pulled away from the annoying gnat of a opponent. He sheathed his sword to lower his threatening presence.

“Ha, had enough mate?” Kordath asked grinning mischievously. The Ryn was confidant that the attacks he had made would have had to have done something to his opponent.

“Quite frankly, your strikes are doing very little to me. We could go on like this for ages. Me never hitting you and you hardly scratching me. So how about this instead? You take some of the artifacts, I take some and then we both leave?” Keiji offered as he held out his giant gloved hand to the Ryn. Kordath walked up to Keiji, thinking about the offer. As he stood there staring at the hand, his tail took another one of the artifacts left on the shelf.

“Ya got yer self a deal,” The Ryn answered shaking his hand. The Ryn quickly turned and stood slightly behind Keiji as to hide his newly acquired trinket. Keiji walked forth and picked up certain ones that seemed important or interesting, though in all honesty he had no clue what he was looking for. Kordath did much the same, until both had cleared out the self.

“Good day, Ryn.” Keiji said bowing slightly, happy he was able to complete his mission somewhat. The Ryn smiled and waved as the Togruta walked out of the room and disappeared from sight. He smiled as he turned back to the self and dropped the illusion. Scrolls and other ancient looking objects materialized onto the dusty holding racks. Kordath’s grin widened even further. He was quite happy with his work.

Kordath had let his scholarly past get the better of him, he realized, and hadn't even noticed that his pursuer had caught up with him. He certainly was aware now, as the man swung a heavy blade with alarming ability. All the Ryn had going for him was speed, ducking and weaving from the armored man. Bleu pulled his dagger and Sapphire Blade from their sheaths, scrambling backwards as he went. He realized, too late, that he'd fled through the doorway of the secret storeroom he'd stumbled across.

Oh, oh no. No! We can't fight in here, this is bad!

Sadly, the Ryn had no time to put words to his thoughts as the larger, fiercely armed and armored man came at him. He ducked another sweeping slash from the man’s hefty katana and winced at the sound of shattered glass and objects hitting the stone floor. A glance out of the corner of his eye showed him a broken cube, its light fading and winking out. So much knowledge lost in a single swipe.

Running out of space, Kord tried to parry the next blow, feeling the hand wielding his dagger go numb from the force behind it. He went to block with his offhand and felt genuine fear as the reinforced katana sent a lightning pattern of cracks through the Sapphire Blade. Ducking and rolling under another brutal attack, the former Krath felt a pang of regret as he heard more shelves breaking under the onslaught.

Getting back to his feet as the armored figure turned, blade rising, he sheathed the damaged sapphire weapon and dug a knuckler from his coat pocket. Lacing his fingers through the holes as he yelped and jumped back, he waited for an opening. When the katana began its mighty swing once more, he took a chance, flipping his Sith Dagger into an overhand grip and stepping into the other man’s proximity. The armored figure towered above the far smaller Ryn, who was thankful for the speed difference as he tried to wedge his dagger into the black matte plating. Some kind of rubbery material lining the gap between the chest piece and abdomen slowed what should have been a quick strike. Kordath was, briefly, perturbed by the sound of air rushing out of the hole he managed to cut.

His confusion was short lived as his foe recovered from his missed swing and tried to do a quick strike with the end of the katana’s hilt. Kord sidestepped, trying to avoid the steel blade as it passed near him, and spotted what he hoped was an actual opening. When a downward strike brought the armored helmet into his range, Kordath struck fast with his brass knuckles.

They impacted with a fleshy thud, nearly skipping off of the curved helmet before hitting a crimson-ringed montral. Kord stepped back as his assailant stumbled, shaking his head and taking one hand from the long hilt of his weapon.

“Ya feelin’ alright there, mate? Calm yer blood a bit? Plenty o’ loot 'ere fer da both of us, yeah? Assumin’ ya can stop smashin’ stuff ta hell.”

“My mission,” growled the larger figure, holding his blade up in a guard position, “is to recover any artifacts for Odan-Urr. Continue to get in my way and I will eliminate you.”

Kordath blinked a few times and started to shake. Before long he was bent over, his weapons on the floor as he clutched his midsection while laughing. When he found himself capable of speaking once more, he straightened and wiped tears from his eyes. The armored man still had his weapon before him, his head cocked in a questioning manner.

“I'd have helped ya had I known ya was one of Sorenn’s, mate. Shootin’ a bloke just cause he's there is a bit of a sleemo move. Right, okay,” stated Kord, still chuckling as he gathered his weapons, pocketing a few holocrons as he did so. “Well, good luck, mate. Find me outside if ya wanna have a drink, eh?”

The Arconan gave the big, probably confused Togruta plenty of space as he sidled out the door and into the hall. His footsteps echoed in the corridors as his pace quickened, until he was running full bore to leave the fortress. Hopefully he'd be long gone before the Odanite realized he'd made off with some of the artifacts.