Seated within the Glorious Jewel of the Hutts, the Winter Palace is situated on a remote island near the planet’s equator. Although blanketed with the pollution from Hutt industry, its location makes the climate hot and humid. Surrounded with trees and vines, it could be considered to be a paradise, even among the barren wasteland of Nal Hutta. Outside of the Winter Palace, a network of sewer pipes transfer the waste from the palace to wherever seems far enough to dump into the oceans surrounding the island. Flora and fauna that have adapted to the Hutt’s environmental changes thrive in the polluted forests surrounding the Winter Palace.

Stepping through its gilded gates, the lavish interior serves as the main audience chamber. Once belonging to the wealth of Jiliac Desilijic Tiron, the gleaming stone of the main aisle leads up to a Hutt’s dais lined with an expensive carpet. Beautiful tapestries line the high walls, telling of the sordid histories of those who woven them, awaiting execution in Jiliac’s dungeons.

Finally, the antechamber to the "throne" room is illuminated from above with high-skylighted ceilings. Constructed from lightly colored stone, the antechamber might have been where the late Hutt entertained his guests before an audience with spice and exotic dancers. In the hands of the Hutt Kajidics, however, these traditions have continued as the Winter Palace now serves as a front for criminal and business ventures that come and go.

Smoke floated around tables, staff of questionable freedom moved from seat to seat, and the dealer droids had more photoreceptors than a spice spider. The Winter Palace was a proper hive of scum and villainy, which meant that it had some of the straightest tables in the sector. Or the best skimmers and cheaters, but pulling those kinds of tricks at a place like this was a quick way to sate a Hutt’s boredom. Which was one of the reasons the Ryn sitting at a Sabaacc table was playing fair, not even trusting in the Force to make his bets, but instead his observational skills and gut. He wouldn’t put it past the Kajidics to have either funded or developed some kind of tech that could ferret out a cheating Force Sensitive, and he wasn’t game to find out.

He was up, incredibly, which was good considering the line of credit he’d set up lead back to a shell company of his own clan. If he wasn’t the Consul, someone would have already come for his tail. Which was why it was worrying when he sensed a hostile, yet familiar, presence entering the area. His gray eyes peeked over his cards, and groaned internally. He tossed his down, much to the dismay of several of the other gamblers at the table.

“Sorry, lads, gotta cash out, ya know how it is with quick exits, eh?” he apologized, scooping up his cred chips and markers. His explanation got a number of understanding grunts and waves of dismissal. He’d not won so much that anyone would pull a blaster, but some of them had hoped to get theirs back. The Ryn had made it almost to the entrance hall when the snap-hiss of a saber activating brought him to a halt. Slowly, he turned, a grim look on his face.

“Oi, Rrogon. Do nae know what yer doin’ all tha way out here when yer job is back on Selen these days.”

“My job is whatever I’m told to do by those above me, Kordath,” the Kaleesh growled at him, his vibrant white blade humming menacingly.

The Ryn’s eyes flicked around the room; they were drawing a crowd, and credits were already changing hands as people whispered odds to one another. Security was gathering as well, but they were lounging or betting among themselves. There to protect the establishment, not necessarily the patrons.

“Aye? And who’d all would that be, mate, because last I checked, t’was meself atop that ladder.”

“For now,” stated Skar, giving his saber a short spin, as if to loosen up the wrist. Or to intimidate his Consul. “I was sent to retrieve you. Something about clan funds going missing.”

Kordath lifted the bag, shaking it so the credit chips would clink together. “Good thing I’m up then, this might buy us another transport ta help with tha Selen relief efforts. Ya can escort me ta see if anybody is down on their luck and lookin’ ta sale their ship. Would hate ta get robbed.”

The Consul turned on his heel, taking a few steps towards the exit before feeling his body start to drag backward, heels skipping across the flagstones. He looked back at Skar, annoyed.

“I was told to bring you back alive, if I could.”

“Well, good thing I’m alive, why we waitin’ here?”

The Kaleesh took a step towards him, mouth bending into what looked like a smile.

“Who says I found you alive?”

“Treason, is it then, mate? Gonna have ta answer some questions when ya get back if ya do this.”

The Ryn held the bag of credit chits in front of him, his right hand moving to the hilt of his Dagger. Slowly he pulled it from its scabbard, watching the Kaleesh.

“There are those who will ask, and there are those who will rejoice. Those who may move into power with your loss...well, we have an understanding.”

Bleedin’ conspiracies now, great. Kordath took a deep breath and shook his head.

“Nath’d be disappointed in ya, mate,” he stated, tensing his body.

Skar’s face contorted in rage at the mention of their late master. “Perhaps if you hadn’t ended her, she would be here to guide you to better decisions!” the Kaleesh shouted, lifting his saber to attack.

Kordath stepped back and threw his bag of cred chits at the Juggernaut, watching the blade cut it in twain and sending credits everywhere. His opponent’s red eyes flickered across the scene, instinctively tracking possible threats, and Bleu rushed in after, pulling his sapphire blade free with his offhand. Knocking the saber aside with his dagger, he slashed across the Kaleesh’s chest with the azure blade, scarring the armor and biting deep enough to draw a score of blood. He tried to follow it up by dropping low and using his momentum to sweep the bigger man’s legs with his own, but the Kaleesh simply didn’t go down from the hit.

Uh-oh.

The Force screamed in warning, and he barely blocked the attack from above with his alchemically-treated dagger. Bleu scrambled backward, seeing the burning in Rrogon’s already red eyes. Where once it was malicious and cold, taking the opportunity to eliminate one he viewed as a rival, now the Sith was angry.

Good job, ya idiot, ya made him mad.

Skar didn’t wait, didn’t gloat, simply came at him. His saber moved quickly with certainty and power. The attacks were rapid, following one after another, and the Consul found himself on the retreat, trusting in the Force to keep him alive. Blocking a particularly vicious blow knocked his dagger from his hand, causing him to jump back and reach to his belt, unclipping one of the grenades there and holding it up in the air.

“I’ll blow us both up, Skar! Do nae think I won’t!” he shouted, widening his eyes in an effort to look a bit mad.

The Kaleesh turned his head slightly and stared at him. “You’re bluffing.”

“You're a coward, Kordath, you don't have the guts to blow us both up,” Skar seethed angrily as he adjusted his weight from one mechanical foot to the other, the gears and internal mechanisms sightly adjusting to his movements. This was bad. The Kaleesh couldn't hope to get close to the little Ryn without getting himself severely hurt… That was if Kord really went through with his threat.

“Ya, mate, you stay there like a good lizard or we both go in a blast o' fire,” Kordath said, moving his hand to emphasize the grenade inside of it. Growling to himself, the Sith began to grind his teeth in anger. The little runt had him dead to rights for the moment. The Juggernaut still had options though. The only question being, which one would be of most use to him?

He could always use the slugthrower on his hip but that would take too much time, as would using the Force to knock the grenade out his hand. Far too much movement and lack of time, however, just as he thought of this an idea came to mind, forcing the former Gladiator to smile hideously.

Reaching out with the Force, the Sith could feel the all too familiar tug of the power answering his call and lashing out at the smaller Ryn, its invisible tendrils wrapping around his foe’s mind and sinking in deep. The Shadow Lord’s mind tried to resist the mental assault, but his defences were breached with little to no struggle and the poor alien was frozen in place and under Rrogon's control for now.

“Now then, Kord, I'll play your little game, but I'm going to do it my way,” said the Sith before his mental arms began to move his new puppet to his will. The Augur's hand and arm began to tremble and struggle against the new force that was controlling it but the effort was waites as it moved with obvious reluctance up to the activation mechanism.

The Aedile could feel his fellow Arconan’s mind trying to resist but the Arcanist just didn't have enough mental will to stop the Sith in time before it was too late. And, unfortunately for him, it was. With a last push of will the pin on the grenade was pulled and dropped harmlessly to the floor.

“Now let's see if the gamble pulls...” Before the Kaleesh could finish his sentence, the metallic cylinder exploded in a flash of terrible light, blinding the Aedile’s already sensitive eyes. A scream of surprise and panic filled the space around the Sith, mingling with his own, but the one that stood out the most was the cry of pain and anguish that came from in front of him, soon drowning out all others.

Blinking away the spots and blindness from his reptilian eyes, he looked down at the Shadow Lord, doubled over in pain clutching the hand that had once held the grenade.What remained of the hand was severely burnt and damaged. A low and cruel laugh bubbled up from the Juggernaut's throat, the voice modulator giving it a metallic hollowness that would chill most to the bone.

“Aww, did the birdrat have an accident?!” chided the Sith as he began to step closer to the still hunched Ryn. “Come on now, Consul, I expected more of a fight than this from you, especially after what I did to your wife. And I can tell you right now, once I’m done here, I might just go pay her a visit again— unfishished business and all that. That and from what I've heard, you have a little one of your own.” The former gladiator stood before the now hurt Ryn, his eyes glowing in the dim light of the room.

Kordath growled in anger when Skar said this and tackled the Sith, trying to bring down the large bulk but it was a futile attempt. But what wasn't futile was the sapphire blade being driven into his lower abdomen before the Juggernaut could react. Growling, the Kaleesh grabbed the Ryn's hand and pulled the blade out, pushing the Consul away grinning like a mad man, while he began to Focus on the wound with the force and began to stitch the wound.

“Oh, what was the child’s name again? Ahh right, it was Shay'lra, wasn't it? You have felt the pain of losing a child before but who says old wounds cannot be reopened? And this time, Kordath, I'll make sure it says open for the rest of your pitiful life,” Skar said with a menacing snarl before he lifted his leg and swiped it across the Arcanist's face with a deafening crack, sending the smaller alien crashing into a nearby table, credit chips and drinks crashing to the ground with the impact. “You were never fit to be a father or the leader of Arcona, Shadow Lord, that much is clear to anyone with eyes to see.”

Kordath struggled to look up at the Sith, spitting out a glob of blood and teeth onto the floor next to him. “And what about you, Skar? Ya killed yer own wife if I remember, and the kid,” slurred the Ryn ashe groped for around for anything that might help him

Rrogon’s eyes darkened and his face contorted in grief. “You have no room to talk, you piece of bantha dung!” roared the Kaleesh as he deactivated the lightsaber in his hand and clipped it to his belt once more. “I'm going to enjoy ripping you to shreds with my own hands, Kordath!” Keeping true to his words, he charged again. This time, he thought, there would be no more more little tricks, no escape, just a one-sided massacre.

The Ryn groped blindly, even as he shot back verbally at the much larger Kaleesh, glaring at him. His mangled right hand would be of little use to him until he got out of here. If he got out of here. Both of his blades were somewhere in the room, but his ability to call such things to him was lacking in the best of times, and with his hand throbbing and head ringing, this wasn’t the best. Instead, he trusted in luck, as he had since entering the Palace and grasped the first thing his good hand closed around.

Rrogon was charging at him, and the Consul felt the Force urging him to move. He refused, struggling to stand, keeping his right profile presented so as to delay the Sith’s spotting of whatever he had in his offhand. Only hand, came a persistent little voice in mind. He pushed it back and fought through the nausea of standing with what was probably a concussion, to pull in power from the Force. He channeled it to his left arm, gritting his broken teeth and screaming out at the Kaleesh. Images of Zujenia, floating in a bacta tank, not a year past when the former gladiator had snapped and ran her through with a saber, just managing not to kill her outright, flashed through his mind. The golden eyes of his half-breed daughter, staring up at him from her crib, haunted him as well.

With the Force aiding him, and the recklessness of his traitorous subordinate’s actions, Bleu may almost have stood a chance. He turned as Skar got nearer, pivoting on his heels to swing his good arm up and around. The Ryn had been in more bar brawls than he could count, he was aware of his surroundings as well. Where he’d landed, the weight of the object he’d picked up, the feel of it moving against the stone floor below them even while in hand all suggested a certain length and make. The table leg arced out as he turned, driven by momentum, anger, and Force-enhanced strength. He gave a bloody grin of satisfaction when he saw the Kaleesh’s red eyes widen in understanding.

I’m beaten, Skar, but I ain’t broken yet, he thought.

No doubt the Aedile sensed the blow coming from a mile away, but his momentum and anger made stopping near impossible. The big man tried to brace for the impact, hoping to overrun the smaller Ryn.

It had to be noted, to Kordath anyways, that the Kajidics had not decorated their Winter Palace shoddily. The leg had good weight, solid construction, which spoke to why his head was still spinning after being tossed through the table he’d destroyed. Sadly, the Sith tried to lower his head to avoid being smashed across the face; a good wallop to the jaw would have slowed Rrogon down significantly he felt. Still, there was something satisfying about the end of his makeshift club hitting the Juggernaut across the skull, skipping across and gashing open the Kaleesh’s scalp. He brought the club back around for another strike, only for a mechanical, claw-like hand to catch it.

Skar lifted his head slowly, blood streaming down his rugged features and scaly skin. His red eyes seemed to burn; Bleu could sense the man’s hatred for him. Was it because he’d killed their master? It had been a mercy, she had ordered him to, but still...the Kaleesh had viewed Nath as if she were his mother. With the gladiatorial upbringing, Kord supposed anyone showing moderate affection for the Sith would have been important to him. Those raging eyes penetrated the Ryn’s being, and his own grey gaze flickered to the ribbon on his wrist.

Oh gods, I’m so, so sorry, Shay, Zuj. I’m so sorry.

The table leg was torn from his grasp, the wood clattering across the flagstones. He tried to back away, but the Kaleesh’s other mechanical hand caught the front of his jacket, bringing him back in. Skar pulled Kordath towards him, blood covered forehead slamming down into the Consul’s. The Ryn felt the world spinning around him in a daze. He tugged at his coat, trying to free himself ineffectually, but also closing his hand around something of value. His fingers closed around the glass neck of the bottle he had stowed inside his jacket, pulling it forth to try and smash Skar in the face with it. What he withdrew was broken and jagged, the earlier impact with the table probably shattering it.

He didn’t think but instead jabbed it at his assailant's face. Glass dug into Skar’s cheek, even as the Kaleesh roared and lifted him from the ground, charging the pair into the nearest wall. Kordath felt things inside snap, likely his ribs he decided as breathing became difficult. He didn’t focus on that, instead, he pushed his improvised shank up, seeking the soft eyeball of the man who dared to threaten the women he loved. Rrogon snarled in pain as half his world went dark, clamping his hands on the Ryn’s throat and choking the life from him. Kordath stabbed at the face once, twice more before another headbutt dazed him, making him drop the bottleneck.

The Consul felt his life ebb away, darkness closing in. It didn’t matter, his boots bouncing off his killer like a child kicking rocks. He reached down to his belt, his fingers feeling numb, before realizing he was using his useless hand out of reflex. Trying with his other, he snagged his remaining flash grenade, pulling the pin before removing it from his belt and raising it.

“Kark...off…” he managed to wheeze, shoving the grenade against Skar’s face. The flash of light brought a scream from the Kaleesh, as the heat and concussive blast tore apart his other eye. He did not release the Ryn, whom he instead twisted his grip on. A sickening snap could be heard before the former Consul’s body hit the floor.

Anger and rage boiled inside of the Kaleesh as he stalked forward toward the downed Ryn. He knew that anger like this would only focus his purpose here. Yet he didn't care anymore, all he wanted was to make the Seer suffer for his words. He had to admit, they hurt more than he liked and cut deeper than he would ever admit, but no one would know that; not now, not ever.

Right before the Sith lept on his fellow Arconan, a small cylinder rolled to his feet and in a split second the Kaleesh realized his mistake, another blinding flash of light filled the room once more causing him to stagger back again. He roared in rage as he felt another sharp stab into his side. The Juggernaut felt the blade once more enter into his flesh.

Reaching down, he tried to tear the blade out but he found nothing there. Another flash of pain burned into his right shoulder, forcing him to take another step back, a hiss of pain issuing from his mouth. Skar’s eyesight was slowly starting to return to him, but he needed to make space or else he would just keep getting hurt.

Quickly rolling to the side, the Kaleesh kept clear of the battle and landed ten feet away next to a pair of Twileks who stared at him with wide eyes. Growling to himself, the Sith straightened and looked back at the former Krath who was barely on his feet. His stance wavered and swayed like he was drunk, his grey eyes clouded with pain as he struggled to stay awake.

Looking down, the Juggernaut looked at his wounds. The one in his shoulder was superficial and could be ignored but the gash in his right side was far worse. The fracking Ryn probably hit some internal organ and the would bleed freely. A wave of lightheadedness washed over the Sith for a second before he steeled himself and focused on the new wound to try and close it or at the very least stop the bleeding with the Force.

“Nath would be proud of you for that Kordath, even if you are still a coward in the end.” The Aedile muttered under his breath before he reached down deep into himself and touched on the dark pool of energy that rested in his soul, it's cold icy tendrils enveloping him as he fully gave into the Dark side, letting it take control.

Charging forward, Skar’s image blurred with speed as the Force applied his movements making him hard to track with the naked eye. Right before his metallic fist slammed into the Ryn’s face, he staggered to the side and brought the blade forward in an attempt to stab the charging Sith in the face. He would have succeeded if his stance wasn't thrown off by his hesitant footing. However, the sapphire gladius merely dug a long gash into the reptilian skin on the Kaleesh’s cheek.

Ducking to the side, the Jugernought brought his other hand around and slammed it into the Arcanist’s ribcage. A sicking series of cracks and snaping followed the strike and the Ryn went down, blacking out from the overload of pain to his senses. Skar stood there panting heavily, holding his side and wincing in pain.

“For a coward, you fought well Kordath, in the end, I will give you that.” Rrogon said as he took out the saber from his side and ignited the blade with a flick of his thumb. Raising it high into the air, he brought it down into the center of the Ryn’s chest the hot plasma smoothly cutting into the fur and flesh and boiling the surrounding blood until it was extracted.

Pulling out his comlink, the Sith keyed in several commands and waited a second before a woman's face appeared and looked at him with curiosity.

“Ah, Rrogon dear what can I do for you?” Asked Lucine in a curious tone.

“The deed is done, I am returning to Selen,” said the Sith as he quickly disconnected the link before she could respond. It was time to head home now. There was much to do and very little time to do it.