The atmosphere on Mustafar is thick, burning with sulfur and volcanic ash. No sunlight is able to penetrate to the surface. Located at the end of a raging lava river lies a towering, complex black structure unlike any other. Designed and constructed by the Sith Lord Darth Vader during the reign of the Galactic Empire as a testament to his own might, the former Sith’s personal residence sits on the site of an ancient Sith cave and the planet of his greatest defeat. The unique structure consists of a large obsidian central spire flanked by taller tuning towers to help channel the dark side. Lava ebbs and flows through the building, providing power to various systems and ambient lighting throughout in a design synonymous with the dark side of the Force and the building’s creator.

With the castle’s location recently discovered from the darkest corners of former Imperial archives, agents of the Brotherhood have been dispatched to reclaim the Sith site and any relics of value. Thought forgotten in time for almost thirty years after the death of the Dark Lord and collapse of the Empire, the place where “Jedi go to die” still holds many secrets and surprises; from Sith and Jedi artifacts to Vader’s personal effects and access to the nexus of dark side power the castle is built upon.

Hidden in the depths of the castle lies Darth Vader’s meditation chamber, constructed in the ancient Sith cave where he created his first lightsaber and completed the transformation into the Dark Lord. Inside, a single catwalk extends from the black durasteel door to the center of the room, hot swirls of red and orange lava filling the floor of the chamber while an excess of steam adds a slight haze. Surrounded by four obsidian tuning pillars lies a raised platform, a single obsidian throne in the center. Like the rest of the castle, the entire chamber has been constructed to channel the dark side energy within.

It is here that you have found yourself, either seeking to attain the secrets within for your own gains or to ensure they shall never be found by another. However, it is rare that any seeker of forbidden knowledge would walk such a path alone. Pursuers and companions alike can often be found. More so, such disparity can cause conflicting points of view on what the best course of action shall be.

Whatever may happen, the empty throne stands resolute and watches to see what shall come of those called by the dark presence within.

The Human sauntered through the haze of steam, his robes a buffer from most of the heat. Still, sweat beaded across his pale brow, threatening to drip into his violet eyes. Even his shoulder, where cybernetics met flesh, was uncomfortably warm as he crossed the catwalk suspended above lava. His goal was in sight, though; the chamber that a Sith Lord had used for introspection and to commune with the Dark Side.

Who knew what fun toys might be contained within?

Twin pillars flanked the end of the catwalk, and beyond that was a throne of obsidian, the black rock gleaming in reflections of orange and red.

What shouldn't have been there was the figure lounging in said seat, a leg thrown over one armrest, a bottle resting on the other. A scroll was in their hands, obscuring the features from Kylex's probing gaze. He craned his neck, trying to use his height to see past.

"Can I bleedin' help ya, mate?" came a voice from the other side, one hand dropping from the scroll to the bottle. It was covered in hair.

"Oh, probably not, I came to see if the late Lord Vader had any interesting toys that might be useful for causing a little...mayhem," spoke the Human, a grin spreading across his scarred features.

The figure on the throne set his bottle down with a dull thud, most of its contents already gone, before half-lowering the scroll it was reading. Gray eyes peered over the top, one white eyebrow arched.

"Plenty ta be learned here, aye. I do nae see the point of diggin' up dusty relics just ta cause some chaos. I meself came ta find old stories, never know where they may lead ya or what they might show."

"Tsk," replied Kylex, eyes traveling over the small pile next to the throne. A few more scrolls and items of question, though he almost thought he could catch the glint of a holocron buried in the mess. "Where, heh, where'd all that come from, then?"

Rustling paper drew his gaze back to the figure, who made no move to stand as he set down the scroll.

"One o' tha storerooms. Bits o' knowledge, not much the likes as you'd be curious about. Left all tha dangerous stuff for others, so..."

The tone of dismissal was obvious, and insulting, to the Human. It also seemed like a lie, what with the holocron sitting there by the fuzz-covered little slimebag's feet.

"Except you have that, there," Kylex stated with a nod of his head. "Give us that, hmm?"

"Look, mate, plenty o' stuff left all over this joint, just go and find yerself somethin'—” the Ryn let out a grunt as a Force-driven blow knocked him against the back of the throne.

"But I want that one."

The seated man glared up at him, a grimace on his face.

"You do nae want ta go down this road, mate, I'm being civil here. There's nothin' on that 'cron you're gonna want. Just some old Jedi from a long, long time ago ramblin' on about balance and such. No great weapons o' war."

The Human had quit listening; hearing the Ryn's grunt of pain had been like music to the sadist's ears. His hand lowered to his waist, resting near his hidden saber hilt.

"Fine, I'll take it. That's more fun anyway. And I'll pull that stupid tail off and keep it as a souvenir. Don't bother trying to give me the thing now, this is going to be too much fun!"

In the throne, the Ryn tensed up, hand tightening around his bottle. Gray eyes glared up at the Human, narrowing to slits.

"Always with the bloody tail with you Humans, like ya never seen one before," he muttered before moving to stand. Reflexes honed from years of practice and paranoia, fueled by alcohol, saved him from the sudden blazing saber blade that had almost seemed to materialize in Kylex's hand. The arc of red plasma burned its way through the top of the obsidian throne, causing the rock to pop with heat even as the Ryn tumbled to the side.

"Alright then, ya big sleemo, catch me if ya can," growled the Ryn, taking a final swig from his bottle. He flipped it end over end, catching the neck and hurling it towards the white-haired man.

Kylex raised his offhand, palm out, and the projectile stopped in mid air. He closed his fingers, making a fist, and the bottle shattered into shards of glass, tinkling to the stone floor below.