Abandoned and forgotten, the ruins of the Dark Temple have slowly succumbed to the erosion of time. In the central chamber the walls have crumbled, the ceiling has caved in, and the jungle now flourishes within the once pristine halls.

Green light filters through the temple, mixing eerily with the dark, violet hue of Dromund Kaas’ sky. Lightning flickers overhead, the raw energy of the Force clashing high above. The floor is overgrown with large plants and grasses that have swallowed the old stone. Wild creatures roam freely, skittering away from the presence of intruders while vicious predators hide just out of sight.

The main hall is lined on both sides by towering statues, heads bowed in supplication. They stand in deference to the sculpture of a pure-blooded Sith, which towers over the chamber with outstretched arms. The sculpture has been split diagonally down the middle, as if cleaved in two by a rusted blade, but the majesty in the stone still echoes to the past.

On either side of the main hall, remnants of branches to inaccessible parts of the temple remain. One might tilt their head to take in what is left of the mezzanine—the balcony overlooking the chamber—still held aloft by the great pillars standing behind the statues. Several of the pillars have fallen, providing a pathway up to the mezzanine for those willing to take the risk for higher ground. Spirits of the Sith are rumored to still haunt the grounds—waiting for poor, misguided fools to walk blindly into their domain.

It was said that for the Sith death was inescapable. While the Jedi could return as ghosts, the corroding effect of the Dark Side barred the Sith from clinging to this world. This was not wholly true. The strongest among them had engineered means to cheat death. Some anchored their spirits to talismans while others used alchemical means to further their lives following mortal wounds. Even their very creations could retain some small portion of their essence and take on a spiteful life of their own. Such relics would always find their way back to their master’s side no matter how often a ruin was robbed of its treasures. That was what had brought Ka Tarvitz to Dromund Kaas.

Lightning rolled across the sky of the blighted world, offering a momentary flash of light across the dark heavens as Tarvitz made his way through the baroque ruins of the Dark Temple. The undergrowth crunched beneath his boots as he crept forward, scanning for any sign of movement amongst the statues. The dark purple of his armour blended him with the shadows, but in spite of all efforts to conceal his mind from the wraiths which were bound to the ruins, he had sensed something watching — hunting — for him since his arrival. He shifted uneasily, peering about at his surroundings. The sooner that this was finished the better.

It took several minutes of careful searching before Tarvitz located his prize. Half-hidden by coiling vines, it was resting at the base of one derelict statue standing sentinel beside the temple’s main door. Dark bronze and with an intricate latticework covering its surface, he could make out the pyramid shape of a Sith Holocron glowing with a blood-red inner light. It was one of several which had been stolen from personal collections only to wind up in places like this temple. Despite the dangers involved, such a rare opportunity to deny the Brotherhood a cache of Sith knowledge could not be ignored.

Checking for traps every inch that he edged forward, Tarvitz moved to the base of the statue, crouching down and snatching up the Holocron. It pulsed in his grip, and he felt tendrils of a powerful mind reaching for his own consciousness before Tarvitz’s mental barriers slammed shut. Beneath his helmet, Tarvitz grimaced with revulsion before storing the Holocron away in a pouch on his belt and turning to leave.

Tarvitz made it only ten paces before he realized that he wasn’t alone.

Leaning against one crumbling wall, barely three meters away and not bothering to even hide his presence, a heavily armed figure waited for Tarvitz. One hand was resting on a pistol at his side.

“If you’re here to settle a grudge with me, I’m not in the mood for dealing with it right now,” Tarvitz sighed, slowing his pace and making a point of not reaching for his weapons. He wasn't about to start a fight here unless it truly was unavoidable.

“Good,” the other man laughed. “It’s the trinket you picked up that I’m interested in. Hand it over and we can both walk away happy, and in my case very rich once the Shadow Academy Society gets their hands on that thing.”

Tarvitz immediately recognised the arrogant self-assured voice Terran Koul even before another flash of lightning illuminated the man’s grinning features. They had met once before under not dissimilar circumstances on Oricon, where the two had fought in the Dread Fortress itself. Tarvitz knew that Koul had likely been following him from the start, and perhaps that he had even mistaken the probing observations the Arconan for a wraith.

“Terran, just walk away,” Tarvitz said, holding up one hand in a placating gesture even as the other unclipped one lightsaber from his side. “I don’t want to fight you again.”

“Fine with me,” Koul answered, unbuttoning the holster of one pistol, “You barely held your own last time we brawled; what makes you think this outcome would be any different?”

“Because this time I wouldn’t be pulling my punches.”

Koul snorted a disbelieving laugh and drew his pistol in a flash of movement. Before he could take aim, Tarvitz’s open hand exploded in a supernova of light. Behind the glare resistant visor of his helmet, Tarvitz smirked as Koul screamed, the light burning into his eyes as he began firing blindly. Neatly sidestepping the two blaster bolts, Tarvitz reached out with the Force and dragged Koul into the air.

Koul sailed over the flora-choked ruins as Tarvitz yanked him forward. He squirmed against the invisible grip, trying to dodge the impending attack even as Tarvitz lashed out with his inactive lightsaber. The pommel struck Koul’s jaw with a sickening crack of metal hitting bone. His head snapped back, blood and fragments of teeth fountaining from his mouth as his jaw shattered under the blow. He hurtled away from Tarvitz, the momentum of the telekinetic pull sending him past the Odanite and smashing headlong through the undergrowth. The muffled attempt at cursing suggested that the fall had also broken Koul’s nose.

All throughout this Tarvitz felt nothing. Were this a fight against the Sith, even the Collective, he might have felt some sense of purpose or even a righteous fury. Koul was simply an obstacle, someone who had failed the Jensaarai and had fallen so much further since his exile. He wasn’t an opponent to be measured against so much as a brief delay in Tarvitz’s mission.

“Had enough?” Tarvitz called out, keeping his lightsaber at the ready, “Please, I’m asking you just to throw down your weapons and let me leave.”

Koul answered with a live grenade. It barely made it into the air before another telekinetic push from Tarvitz sent it hurtling back toward the Kiffrar. There was a dull splash of adhesive glue coating its owner, followed by the muffled groan of a broken jaw trying to utter the word “Sithspit!”

Well, that could have gone better.

The Kiffar wasn't sure how he was even still conscious, but instinct born from years of both training and practical application took over in an instant. While he couldn't regrow bones or reknit flesh with the Force, it was a trivial matter to compartmentalize the pain. It receded like the Selenian tide at dusk, the maw of agony that was his mouth fading into a dull but ignorable ache.

Through still-spotty vision, Terran craned his head down at the glop that pinned his torso and legs to the ground.

"Sithspit," he growled, the word coming out as mangled as his jaw and teeth. At least his wrists were free.

Terran couldn't care less about the credits. That was just a convenient lie. He wasn't even planning to sell the karkin' Holocron - at least not at first. The knowledge it contained, though...well, that was potentially priceless. It was said that for the Sith death was inescapable. The Jedi could supposedly live on after death, subsuming their ego into the river that was the Unifying Force. For the Sith, ruled by passions, such a feat was impossible. Yet a handful had learned such mastery of the spirit that fragments of their essense still existing thousands of years after their physical death. What, then, might they have been capable of when the body lived and the spirit lingered, but the two were split in twain. There were some goals worth any price.

With a quick twist of his wrist, his lightsaber launched from its sheath. He caught it with his hand, ignoring the telltale thunk of Tarvitz's booted feet growing softer in the distance. A flick of his thumb caused the saber to snap-hiss into existance and he gripped it through the Force, carefully manipulating the blade to shear through the adhesive that pinned him to the cold stone floor of the temple.

His limbs were loosed in short order, and the Arconan sat up and took stock of the situation. As he ran through the items attached to his belt and secured in his cloak, an idea struck him. He snicked a piece of fabric from his cloak with his still-lit saber and began pulling out his arsenal...

The Marksman-H Training Remote was a study in contradictions. Though virtually unchanged since time out of mind, they nonetheless seemed modern. Though regulated and expensive, they were nonetheless a common sight throughout the galaxy. Though potentially lethal, they were nonetheless used to train children - at least amongst Force Users. Generations of younglings had been taught to deflect the remotes' attacks, the pain of their stinging bolts serving as both incentive to improve and as a potential distraction to encourage calm. The practice wasn't limited to Jedi. Even the Jensaarai used the tried and true method in teaching initiates to safeguard against blasters. For a fully trained Jedi, there was no threat from a remote.

But years of training against them still honed one's danger sense to view them as such.

Ka heard the training remote whisking through the air behind him, closing the gap. It registered as a minor annoyance in the back of his mind, like a sandfly buzzing in one's ear. He heard, too, the soft but insistent crooning of the Force, warning him to its threat. He could even feel the slow build-up of energy that signaled it was preparing to fire. It was a minor annoyance, and his unbroken stride towards the temple's exit treated it as such.

Yellow plasma sprang to life an instant before the attack, and the Jedi spun to bat away the incoming bolt. Then the world turned to fire and ash.

A thunderous boom echoed through the cavernous temple, a maelstrom of debris following in its wake.

Right on time.

With a pronounced limp, Terran stepped through the doorway and into the main hall, relaxing his concentration and loosing the veil that concealed his signature in the Force. He caught dozens of tiny stone chips in a Force-grip and hurtled the impromptu pellets at the still-stunned Jedi. Though most bounced off, a few sharper projectiles cut through the Tarvitz's SpecForce armor and drew blood. It wouldn't do more than piss off the Jedi, but at the moment, Terran would settle for anything that kept the human off balance.

"You know," Terran muttered, his words mushed together like strained carrots through his broken teeth and jaw, "I ran that tactic by Satsi once. Strap a thermal detonator to a remote, lock the remote onto the target, let it do the heavy lifting."

The Arconan paused, shaking his head as if to clear it, then gripped another handful of statue shrapnel with the Force and hurled them at the Jedi. Tarvitz had begun to regain his balance, but he stumbled again as he dodged the incoming projectiles, a few more cutting through his once-pristine purple armor.

"She said it was crazy. No way to time it precisely enough to ensure the kill. Turns out she was right. A couple more seconds on the timer, though..." The Arconan shrugged as he trailed off, his tone light as if the miscalculation was of no consequence. Then he raised his WESTAR-M5 Blaster Rifle and sighted down the barrel at the Jedi. "This baby, on the other hand: she never misses."

Terran squeezed the rifle's secondary trigger, and the first grenade sailed straight at the Jedi. A second followed as quickly as the chamber could cycle.

Today might be a good day after all.

Koul could have surrendered. He could have avoided all of this, but no, he hadn’t listened. No matter how hard Tarvitz tried, how many chances he offered, those he fought never listened.

Those thoughts pained Tarvitz more than the shattered ribs inflicted by the explosive-rigged remote, or the shrapnel rebounding from his explosion-blackened armour. That agony was already being quelled by the Force but Koul’s vindictive urge to keep fighting, in spite of Tarvitz’s efforts to end this without further bloodshed, clawed at him.

A whispered warning through the Force sent Tarvitz leaping into the air, the Mitrinomon thrusters mounted to his greaves bursting into life. He hurtled up and out of the first grenade's blast radius, feeling it detonate beneath him. Stone splinters and shredded plantlife showered the area, adding to the clouds of dust kicked up by the explosives.

“Is that it?” Koul slurred through his bloodied mouth. “Give me a challenge! I could use the target practice!”

Tarvitz ignored him, dropping from the air and taking shelter behind one of the ruined pillars; a second grenade sailed past where he had just been, blowing a crater in the wall behind him. He still regarded the Arconan as an unworthy foe, but that disinterest was now tinged with contempt. Whereas Tarvitz had used restraint, seeking to avoid death first with words and then a humiliating injury, Koul fought with an unfettered desire to murder his opponent.

With bursts of fire from his thrusters, Tarvitz darted from one pillar to the next, using the aging stone as cover. Weaving about the streams of blaster fire, he moved in time with the forks of lightning bolts splitting the sky, each flash whiting out the temple in an explosion of light. Nevertheless, several bolts clipped Tarvitz in these moments, one shearing away the charred pauldron covering his left arm. An inch higher and it would have burned through his neck.

It was small wonder that Koul had been exiled from the Jensaarai. For an Order which required measured acts of violence and constant self-control, he was sorely lacking in both.

The metal sphere of a third grenade bounced past Tarvitz, and he could feel his heart racing as he dived behind another pillar. The roar of the explosion filled his ears, as the edge of the blast smashed him into it. Tarvitz grunted in pain as he felt something crack and tasted of the copper tang of blood. Over the ringing of his ears, he could hear Koul jeering. One way or another this was going to be over soon and, by all of Corellia’s hells, he was not about to let Koul emerge as the victor. All just needed to close the distance between them.

The ground shook as a fourth grenade impacted against the pillar, causing cracks to spider-web across its surface. Staring at it, Tarvitz gave a grim smile. That would do nicely. It creaked, swaying slightly before a telekinetic push from Tarvitz sent it toppling over. The damaged stonework fractured, falling like a felled tree toward where Koul stood taunted him. Shots ricocheted against its underside as Tarvitz vaulted up onto the falling pillar, sprinting along its length and using it as cover against the blaster fire. His lightsaber hummed through the air, deflecting any shots within reach.

Koul threw himself aside as the pillar smashed to the ground, Tarvitz already jumping after the Kiffar. Tarvitz landed heavily, driving his lightsaber into the rifle clutched in Koul’s hands, sparks raining from the weapon as it was cleanly bisected. Koul reacted with a skill honed through decades, immediately casting the rifle aside and backing away across the temple hall. Tarvitz stayed with him, lunging and slashing, forcing Koul to keep dodging and denying him the opportunity to draw his pistols.

Lightning tore its way across the sky, flooding the temple interior with blazing light as they fought. Koul reached out with the Force, telekinetically shunting Tarvitz back as his outstretched hand caught the hem of the Arconan’s cloak. They fell as one, sprawling to the stone floor and rolling away from one another. Koul rose first, dragging the pistols from his holsters and firing twice. In that same heartbeat, Tarvitz unleashed a tongue of flame from his gauntlet projector, the flames momentarily blinding Koul.

One bolt missed Tarvitz’s head by inches; the other skimmed across the plasteel covering his right cheek, passing so close that it scorched the skin beneath. The fire rushed across the floor, flames licking against the Arconan’s cloak as he tried to leap aside. Koul gave a shocked yell, briefly forgetting the fight as he stamped out his burning clothing.

“You wanted a challenge?” Tarvitz snarled, leaping upright and hacking the barrels from Koul’s pistols. “How about this, then.”

Bodily crashing into Koul, Tarvitz lashed out with the pommel of his lightsaber, catching the Arconan across the temple before following it up with a punch to his ruined nose. Bearing the stunned Koul to the ivy-choked ground, Tarvitz rained blows down onto him. He bludgeoned the Arconan into submission before he held his lightsaber to Koul's throat, ready to separate the Kiffar's head from his shoulders

Part of Tarvitz wanted to do it. Unseen by all, the glow of the Holocron in his pouch intensified, and a whisper in his mind told him that Koul deserved it. No one would blame him for ridding the galaxy of someone who had forsaken their every binding oath to the Jensaarai. Yet Tarvitz knew that if he broke down here, his every promise to that same creed would have been worth nothing.

“Remember this moment,” Tarvitz said as he stared down at Koul’s blood-streaked face. “Remember that I gave you every chance to walk away. Remember what the Jensaarai code would have required of you. And pray, the next time you are spoiling for a fight, that I remember as well.”

He deactivated the blade and then smashed the hilt across Koul‘s head, rendering him unconscious.

The first grenade passed the halfway point between the two men, the second mere moments behind it. Terran couldn't see the smirk beneath the Jedi's helmet, but he could sense the smug satisfaction radiating off him. Tarvitz gestured perfunctorily with his saber and the grenades reversed course. The Kiffar acted instinctively, dropping his rifle and raising both hands towards the incoming explosives.

The grenades stopped in mid air, their flight arrested between the two combatants. To an onlooker, the two men might have been one more pair of statues decorating the hall, but the air roiled with the Force. As the contest took an ever larger chunk of his concentration, Terran could feel his bodily control slipping. Red tendrils of pain snaked their way along his nerves and ate at his awareness. He grit his teeth and pushed back. And still the Jedi dripped arrogance and satisfaction.

"You want to die. You deserve it." The words were confident, the gesture from the Jedi's offhand no less so. And they were enough to break the Arconan's concentration.

Terran dove to the right, using the Force to push the grenades to the left. They sailed just past him, and he scrambled behind a fallen pillar as they exploded. A cloud of debris spread through the hall, obscuring his vision, and his ears rang with the blast. When the air cleared, Tarvitz was gone.

Sithspit!

Growling with effort, the Kiffar staggered to his feet against the pillar. He willed his blaster rifle back to his hands, then reached behind him and clipped it to the straps beneath his cloak. He opened up to the Force and felt it refreshing him, then he soothed the tendrils of pain that had begun to creep slowly back into his conscious mind.

As he walked back to where Tarvitz had last stood, his eyes picked out subtle signs of dislocation. They told a tale if one knew how to listen. The bounty hunter had been listening for years, and he followed in the Jedi's wake.

He could feel him ahead, and above, crouched on the mezzanine. Though his presence was dimmed, Terran's Force senses had been honed by decades of long practice and few could conceal themselves from the erstwhile Jensaarai. The Kiffar's eyes were drawn to the statue in front of the mezzanine, its head obscuring the balcony railing, and he smiled.

He strode toward the fallen pillar that bridged the balcony and the ground. It was on the opposite side of the balcony from the Kiffar, the statue in between, and when the stone behemoth fell, pushed by a combination of physical might and telekinetic power, only the birds circling above felt any surprise.

Terran leaped into the air, flicking his wrist to bring his saber to one hand as he unholstered a blaster pistol with the other. His feet hit the falling statue's head and he springboarded off of it, flipping in the air before landing on the mezzanine, his amber saber snap-hissing to life. He moved with preternatural speed, and a yellow blade flared to life, batting it away.

The pair swung in near-unison, Tarvitz battering at Terran's defenses as the Kiffar slid away, his blade twirling the Jedi's to the side before slipping past Tarvitz's. The Odanite lunged forward, beneath the amber blade, and planted a shoulder in the Arconan's midsection. Terran tumbled back against the railing, gasping for air, and squeezed off a volley from his WESTAR-35. Tarvitz struck away the bolts and they deflected wildly, but they bought Terran the time he needed to catch his breath.

The Arconan raised his blade in a high guard and lunged at his opponent, beating a staccato rhythm against the yellow saber. The Odanite tried to push him back, pressing for advantage with overwhelming force, but each time the Kiffar loosed another volley from his blaster, keeping Tarvitz off-balance. The pair were evenly matched in skill, but the Human outmassed the Kiffar and both of them knew it. Even with his blaster keeping the Odanite off-balance, even drawing on the Force to match Tarvitz blow for blow, Terran could feel himself tiring.

Without warning, a cylinder detached from the Arconan's waist and sailed towards the Human. Tarvitz acted on instinct, throwing himself away from the projectile, even as he realized his own mistake. Terran aimed without thought, his blast hitting Tarvitz in the wrist as the ion grenade popped off uselessly. Static electricity filled the air, causing the hair along the Kiffar's forearms to stand on end, but he ignored it as he strode forward. The Jedi's blade fell from his fingers, going dark and clattering uselessly to the floor, even as Tarvitz landed in a heap. Terran kicked the lightsaber dismissively, knocking it to the floor below. Tarvitz clumsily drew a battered armory saber with his uninjured hand, but a surge from the Force let Terran batter it away, sending it to join the other saber on the floor.

Terran pointed his amber blade at the Odanite's throat, then crouched in front of him and pulled off the helmet. When Terran spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.

"We've done this dance before, you and I. More than once. I know what you think of me. You think I betrayed our teachings. You think I failed the Jensaarai." The Kiffar sighed and shook his head. "You're wrong. They failed. They failed both of us. If they hadn't, we wouldn't be here. And if you weren't so self-righteous, you'd see that for yourself."

Terran glanced from the fallen Jedi's face to his saber and back again. The Arconan stood, the amber blade retracting, and Terran nodded to his foe. "It's time you and I stop fighting."

The Odanite drew a sigh of relief. Then Terran shot him through the throat.

Pulling the holocron from a satchel at Tarvitz's waist, he turned back towards the hall's entrance.

If you're gonna shoot a man, do it to his face.