Holovids have replayed the conclusion of the Grand Master’s Invitational Tournament where Turel Sorenn and Timeros Ceasus Entar Arconae battled within the remains of the Dark Hall, making it a recognizable location.

Echoes of the past haunt the now desolate graveyard of a planet. Wild winds whip through the hollow landscape with harrowing howls, a sense of death and finality hanging heavy in the air. This aura is neither dark nor light, but stands as living effigy to the destructive power unleashed on an entire system.

Once, Antei had served as the seat of the Dark Jedi Brotherhood's power. As a result of an ancient ritual of destruction invoked by Grand Master Muz Ashen, the entire planet is now no more than a barren wasteland. Charred buildings have been reduced to rubble, but ash flutters into the wind from the embers of fires that seem to burn in eternal requiem. A dark energy still lingers, and at its center, rests the once great temple known as the Dark Hall.

The Dark Hall itself is one of only a few structures to defy the full might of the ritual. The ruins and remains around it are littered with decay. Tall spires have been toppled and withered with corrosion from the planet's periodic dust storms. The Dark Hall’s interior is mired with collapsed pillars and door frames. The last remnants of life are scattered and covered in layers of ash: broken furniture, fractured machinery and combusted equipment littering the apocalyptic palette of grays and greens. The staircases leading down into the subterranean levels are missing whole sections, and some simply lead to dead ends. The crypts below have been ransacked and scavenged, sarcophagi upturned and left with a mixture of mummified corpses and empty caskets.

Beyond this, scouting reports still vary when the topic of Force apparitions and ghosts is broached.

Proceed at your own risk.

The wind whipped around the Sith’s body as he walked towards the dark temple. He had eschewed the use of his speeder bike, despite the unwelcoming surroundings. This trip served as an odd sort of pilgrimage for the man. Bentre Stahoes had studied holocrons between his duties to the Grandmaster and to the Keeper of the Holocrons. Low whispers echoed within his head, seeming to come from the very winds themselves, reminding him of the treasures held within. His studies had to grow and he was not content to merely wait upon the Headmaster to reward his service with crumbs of darker secrets.

There was a real tangibility to the darkness in this place. He had read about the dark ritual that had turned Antei into the ruin that it was today. Taking a deep breath, he allowed himself to bask, losing himself in the alien atmosphere. The air seemed to buzz with an energy he had never experienced before.

The sound of footsteps pulled him back to reality. Turning on one foot, Stahoes pulled the SE-44C blaster from the holster at his side. The report of blaster fire rung out, causing the Corellian Assassin to throw himself sideways an energy bolt lanced the air in the space he had previous occupied. As he scrambled back to his feet, Bentre’s eyes darted across the ruins of the Brotherhood’s former throne world, seeking out the source of the attack.

His eyes came to settle upon a metallic humanoid form. He briefly recognized the individual carrying the blaster. While he might not be able to recall much about the man himself, he knew a bit of Varuk’s reputation and something of his connections to this dark world.

“The Hells?” Bentre growled aloud, bringing his own blaster to bear upon the Umbaran. He pulled the trigger twice in quick succession, forcing the armored Kru to roll sideways to avoid the energy bolt. Hissing voices scratched at the back of Stahoes’ mind as took aim again. This was treachery, the voices assured him. Anger dulled his senses. Normally the Sadowan Proconsul might have laughed off the attack as a case of nerves, merely spitting off some quips. This was a bit different than normal, though.

“You had really better hope I don’t catch up with you, Boc’ara.” He snarled the last word in Ryl as he dropped his off-hand to his side to grip the metallic hilt of the weapon at his side. Bentre was going to have to end this whole thing quickly. Pulling the weapon back over his shoulder, the Sith let out a barking laugh. “Or if you are going to run, take this little parting gift!” A grunt escaped his lips as Stahoes’ heaved his lightsaber toward the Umbaran Savant. If someone was going to try to kill him, he was going to have their blood for the attempt.

As the cloth-wrapped lightsaber Feral escaped Bentre's hands and the sapphire-blue blade raced towards his fellow Sadowan like a dart, the discontent over his Proconsul's presence at the site swelled like waves from within the armored man and pulsated throughout his body. In one fluid motion Kru dropped his right arm to his side with the trigger of the black metallic K-16 Bryar Pistol compressed, instead raising his left arm extended with the armored hand open. The Savant clenched his fist as he deployed all his concentration on altering the blade's arcing course, rotating his arm one hundred and eighty degrees and shoving fist upward. The trajectory of the oncoming lightsaber's flight path was altered just enough by the telekinetic forces deployed by its intended target, the weapon flying just above Varuk's helmeted head as he crouched and reached for his other Bryar.

The Battlelord snarled, his hand reaching out towards the smooth metallic cylinder as it passed by the dark chrome form of the Umbaran. The weapon floated effortlessly back to its master, landing firmly in the Sith's two hands as two low-powered energy blasts left the freshly grabbed Bryar in Varuk's other hand. Feral's sapphire blue blade quickly snapped to attention within the Obelisk's grasp, coming up to deflect both oncoming bolts. As each was deflected away by small rotations in the Proconsul's two-handed grip his full attention turned back to the former Sith - someone who was supposed to be his subordinate.

"Proconsul!" The Umbaran's modulated voice boomed throughout the immediate area and into Bentre's ears. His right index finger remained firmly pressed on the trigger of the Bryar Pistol in hand, a small hum and dull purple glow starting at the end of the barrel. "You should not be here. Any attempt by you to access the knowledge that may remain within these ruins is heresy..." The former Keeper of the Holocrons paused, taking a breath, "And I shall end it."

The form of the Sentinel retained its position as both dark chrome arms went up, first unleashing a trio of uncharged shots in rapid succession from the left-hand pistol towards Stahoes. The group of small red energy blasts zoomed towards their prey, with a larger purple blast following a moment later from of the right-hand Bryar. Bentre batted away the initial three blasts in a flourish of his lightsaber, his Dark Armor covered body contorting to avoid the charged fourth blast as his pace increased. The sapphire-blue blade was brought to a ready position parallel with the Battlelord's body, the distance closing quickly between the two combatants as Stahoes began a roar to accompany his charge. The voices inside the Sith's head screamed at him to end the conflict and seek out whatever knowledge remained hidden in the depths of the former Dark Hall's ruins as his boots pounded against the ground.

A sneer hidden by the helmet of his Sith Armor formed at the edge of Varuk's lips as the other combatant approached with blade in hand, swiftly dropping both K-16 Bryar Pistols into their holsters at his side. He reached behind his back between his waist and Jedi Hunter's cloak using his left hand, the perfectly machined yet battleworn block of titanium Tenebrae Duellum entering his grasp. With his Proconsul almost upon him Kru brought the weapon around before him and his right hand to connect with the metallic hilt and soft textured grip, the combined two-handed clutch compressing the pressure sensor inside. With two quick snap-hisses, two small crossguard blades - one facing towards and the other away from the armored form - sprang to life before the main blade of the weapon crackled and sprang forth with a final snap-hiss.

Bentre brought Feral backwards as he came within reach of his target before bringing the weapon across in a firm and swift horizontal swing from the right, the Force flowing through his body to amplify the impact behind his swing. The Umbaran slid his arms in the same direction, the main blade of his lightsaber angled to block the incoming strike. The near-human's superior strength matched that of the Corellian's amplified strike, the two civilized weapons locking together in an explosion of sparks. Both combatants pushed their weight forward, coming close enough for Bentre to see the reflection of his Tuk’atan-like glowing red eye in the mirror-like finish of Kru’s onyx and lifeless faceplate.

The Corellian Sith felt a grimace twist his features as he removed his flesh and blood hand from his lightsaber and splayed three of the fingers towards the chest of his fellow Sadowan. A spark of white-hot energy forked from the Proconsul’s fingers. The bolt struck Varuk squarely in the chest, eliciting a guttural grunt of pain.

Bentre could only imagine that the armor afforded some measure of protection from the energy blast. It didn’t matter though. As his opponent took an involuntary step backward, Stahoes pressed forward and brought his lightsaber into an overhead swing. As the weapon came to chest level, the Shadow returned his right hand to the hilt so he could bring greater strength to his swing.

He is weak. The voices whispered and hissed, crawling in the back of his mind. He is mere sentient trash, not worthy of breathing the same atmosphere as you. Step on him. Crush him. Rend his flesh below your heel!

The armored Umbaran turned his own weapon to meet the blow. There was a coldness to the man’s actions that Bentre could not quite place. Instead of pulling back or retreating, Kru forced his lightsaber forward. Despite the fact that the accusation of heresy had lacked the zeal or detectable emotion Bentre typically encountered, the Umbaran did not lack for strength. It was disconcerting to watch the cool precision that the Savant operated with. Stahoes grunted with the effort of holding his position, even as he felt himself being slowly forced backward. By comparison, there was far less stress or emotion in the modulated voice of his opponent as the two men struggled.

“Do you really believe you can stop me?” The Corellian tried to let out a laugh, despite the effort he continued to expend. “I am the real deal. You are just-”

He felt the muscles in his arms buckle slightly beneath the stress of the ordeal. As the violet blade descended, the Shadow twisted his body, dropping his right hand to his side to rest on his second weapon as he reflexively brought his cybernetic arm upward to guard his head. As his opponent’s lightsaber rent through the metal of Bentre’s arm, the man twisted his body and stepped sideways in an attempt to evade the follow through of the swing. The lightsaber blade passed the air beside the Corellian, but Varuk was not going to give him time to recover. Instead, the Savant pushed forward, drawing back in preparation for his next strike. With a machine-like determination, Kru charged forward.

This was the moment that Bentre needed. Extending his right arm out, the Shadow turned the lightsaber hilt and hit the activation switch. The ice-blue lightsaber beam extended, piercing through the chest of the Sith-armored Sadowan, roughly approximate to where the Corellian believed the Umbaran’s life-support system might reside. His memory was a little shaky on the exact details. Though the blow connected, Varuk’s own strike continued through. In fact, his own attack cleaved into the shoulder Proconsul’s Dark Armor, driving the human to his knees. Kru’s metallic form hit the earth of Antei with a dull thud.

The Corellian stood on his knees for several moments, attempting to push past the pain. He had come so far. The trip to Antei had been a trip unto itself. The secrets inside remained, just for the taking. Chuckling to himself, Bentre shook his head. All he needed was a bit of time inside. He would find the secrets he needed to make the next steps of power. He would be able to enhance his studies into Sith Alchemy, and even perhaps learn to enhance his own body with less of the more dangerous side effects of the art. He could help to ensure that Clan Naga Sadow would survive far into the future.

That thought brought him to a pause. With the immediate danger of combat having passed, the voices which drove him forward in combat had calmed down considerably. They were not silent, but they did not crawl as incessantly in his mind. Looking over to the fallen form of his fellow Sadowan, Bentre heaved a sigh. The ruins of Antei would remain in this place. If he were not cared for, Varuk might pass in a short time. The wisdom of the Dark Hall that remained was unlikely to be plundered easily. The life of the Umbaran could pass in the time he spent in study. The answer seemed clear to the human Sith.

“I guess it is time that we get you back to Sepros.” Bentre chuckled in spite of himself. While he had to admit to himself the reasoning was sound, he was not thrilled about having to leave the Dark Hall unexplored for now. “I really do not want to have to explain to Sanguinius why we are short a Sadowan. I guess we better get you back to the Iron Wolf so we can get you either comfortable or stabilized enough to make sure you make it back home.”

The Consul was not going to be thrilled to hear about this.

Small blasts of sparks continued to fly as the amethyst and sapphire blades danced and clashed together several times, the armored Umbaran's feet carrying him back a dozen paces over the uneven terrain. The Sith stayed on his Grey Jedi opponent as he moved, ensuring that Varuk had little time to react to the oncoming lightsaber strikes. With the intent of putting his opponent's flurry to an end, the Sentinel surged the power of the Force through his body and sent it through his legs as he bent them slightly and pushed backwards. The pressure sent through his legs rocketed the larger man back several feet, where Kru's combat boots landed firmly in the dirt and braced him.

Bentre continued on with his attack, the Sentinel taking a step toward the oncoming Obelisk as both blades raised to engage once more. The Savant brought his weapon down completely vertical with his opponent in a bid to slice him in two, the Battlelord maneuvering his lightsaber to horizontal with the former Sith's. As the two blades locked in one more flash of light, Varuk forced his larger build and stature forward and shoved with all the force his arms would allow. The push sent Bentre reeling, right heel catching on a rock. With a small stumble, the Proconsul fell to his buttocks with a curse in Ryl. The Savant took the spare moment free of Bentre's onslaught to release his left hand from the machined hilt of his lightsaber and reach for his Bryar. Once his hand departed, the pressure sensor releasing beneath the smooth black grip of Tenebrae Duellum released and deactivated the three radiant purple blades.

As Kru prepared to pull his weapon from it's holster on his hip he was a split second too soon, as Stahoes' hand had reached the grip and trigger of his SE-44C and leveled it his subordinate. A single blast departed from the weapon's barrel, finding its lucky mark in the Umbaran's faceplate. The onyx plate shattered upon impact, the face behind it fried from the heat of the supercharged gas. The dark chrome armored form collapsed first to the knees, then flat into the ruined and dark dirt of Antei.

"It will be mine," cursed Bentre as he stared at the ruins of the Dark Hall, "All of it."