On Nancora, the twin cities of Faron and Axio are connected via a single rail system. This direct line between them consists of staggered transit stations that provide a means of access to the badlands and the resources buried within them. Axio Transit Station Cresh is one such stop for the trams. Named as such due to its closer proximity to Axio than Faron, Station Cresh maintains the same design as all the other stations along the route.

The rail system itself spans four lines wide, double stacked to allow for maximum flow of transit. This results in eight active trams at any one time. Each side moves in the opposite direction of the other, meaning the fast moving trams could come rushing through at any time from either Faron, Axio, or both. The station itself consists of lifts and walkways leading to the surface far beneath the platform. The main buildings present offer up supply stalls serving food, beverages, and equipment, sold at a premium to account for their necessity in the Badlands. What remains is a small security presence as the Technocratic Guild has an armed garrison at each of their stations.

As a major supply route between the cities, the transit stations see a lot of traffic no matter the time. Station Cresh is one of the busiest, often seeing materials arriving from the lifts and being loaded onto the trams. The seeming small scale of the station can lend one to underestimating it, but its importance means any disruption will be dealt with swiftly.

“A rail system station seemed about the most annoying place to have a meetup” Ahsik uttered to himself, frustrated over his wait and search.

A few days prior Ahsik had been able to reach a Sith Alchemist with skill enough to repair the talisman he had salvaged from the Naga Sadow ship of beasts, the one that released him into this great galaxy. The Sith master had reached out to him about being interested in a sort of deal concerning the talisman. After a short list of coordinates and time, Ahsik had then found himself alone, nervous and pissed off.

“I swear when I find that freak I’m gon-“ Ahsik jumped under the touch of the Pau’an. “I told you to meet me at gate K, why are you all the way over in gate B?” Quejo asked the young man. “No, you didn’t say which gate to meet you at at all. However since we are here, how about we finally get down to business?” Ahsik pressured.

“Yes well, I’ll examine the item and give you an estimate, in addition to my extra term, now hand it over.” Quejo stated. “Fine, if you can’t fix it, I’ll drop your sithing house on your head in your sleep.” Ahsik glared furiously. Quejo has then curiously cocked a brow at the rabid Zabrak. “...sorry, that was a lil much. It’s been a bad day and every second I’m with this thing I lose hold of my anger.” Ahsik said sheepishly.

Another few minutes allowed Quejo to finish his appraisal. “Yep. I can’t fix this and give it to you.” Quejo said in a tone much like a child with a broken toy. “What? What does that even mean? What do you mean AND?” Ahsik was dumbfounded, and his eyes were beginning to edge red. “Well I could fix it, at great length and cost, and then it would be too valuable and powerful to return to you. Or I could just turn you down. You’re wasting my time if you don’t make up your mind.” Quejo said, he himself was beginning to get impatient.

“You know what. I don’t care. You drag me out here. Waste. MY TIME. Just SO YOU COULD TELL ME YOU LIKE MY TOY TOO MUCH?!?” Ahsik drew his halved electrostaff, and held them ignited and at his sides.

Quejo responded, as he calmly sat on the open bench, and eyed the upstart, “What are you doing? Do you think you can challenge me?Please, keep dreaming you little rat. I’m going to keep this and we will see just how much you have to learn.” A small smirk edged his blazing eyes.

Ahsik let loose a guttural shout and swung his left stave at Quejo, however the other raised his hand and flexed. In a moment, flung through the air, Ahsik had found himself sitting on his back, a sore feeling and a shortness of breath spreading through his chest. “Oh come on little one, I didn’t even get up yet!” Quejo said, legs crossed on the bench. Ahsik rose and reconnected the halves of his staff, which he then held close to his right arm and running along his back. Ahsik ran toward Quejo, growling like an animal, pupils now edged with blood red streaks. Raising his left hand to the Pau’an, Quejo had begun to laugh when Ahsik suddenly let loose a light from his cybernetic hand. Screwing his eyes shut, Ahsik stopped his sprint and lowered his staff arm. Quejo cursed under his breath, drawing the halves of his lightsaber together, prepared to ignite when he was ready. Ahsik leaped to reach the weary Sith, extending the electrostaff and aiming its tip to Quejo’s Sith Runed throat.

"Whelp," the Pau'an spoke as his blades slithered to life with a hiss and with a smooth upward flurry. He could see the eyes of the Hunter widen just as he directed the back blade of his saber staff into the young Zabraki's weapon, batting it away as if it were an annoying Glow-Fly, a minor inconvenience to the adept duelist. The sizzle of the unstable saber blade crescendoed off of the electric fury of Ahsik's electrostaff and sent him into a spin as he landed in front of the Warlord.

"I can feel your anger, young one. I can taste your pain. It makes me hungry," the vampiric entity spoke, feeling the emotions of the angered Zabrak, toying with him as he lunged in whilst disengaging his blade. Ahsik moved in for a counter but there was nothing there as his electrostaff whizzed by. Quejo reignited his saber and struck the backside of his adversary's weapon, using the forward momentum of his attacker against him. The Plagueian stumbled as the force of the blow and his lack of balance, in that moment, carried him to one side.

A hollow laugh burst from the vocal chords of Quejo. He had been challenged by many but bested by few. Remaining alive for over one hundred years as a Sith certainly spoke volumes as he oozed confidence, the Darkside emanating from his person. He basked in it ceaselessly, wearing his inner darkness like the robes which clung to his lithe frame.

The eerie chuckle was finished with a dash of sinister as the Warlord formed a sneer. He looked to the tracks and waited as Ahsik took in air and once again lashed out. It was obvious to the Ancient One that his newfound opponent was using his rage to fuel his movement. It was impressive in a mere Journeyman, but not that impressive.

Ahsik charged in, his legs pounding with aggression, his eyes fixed on the 'thief', but as the gap closed, he was plowed by a wave of Force energy upon seeing the Pau'an flick his wrist. In an instant, it was as if everything had fallen into place as Ahsik was swatted and sent airborne, ripped from his feet. A growl broke from his lips as he crashed into the side of a passing tram. His body twisted and recoiled against its forward momentum before slamming into the duracrete.

A cough revealed blood as the Zabrak jerked himself up to a sitting position, biting back on the pain.

"I admire your tolerance," the Warlord spoke. "But not your skill," he finished and rolled his staff. Before Ahsik's very eyes the staff broke at the middle and became two blades which danced into an unrecognizable form.

Ahsik coughed up another mouthful of blood. The dark and sneering figure before him toyed with his lightsabers, flicking them on and off, while the outline of his hands seemed to fade along with them.

Ahsik split his electrostaff once more and attached the ends to each of his hips, he then grunted before he spoke. “Well.... uugh. I... uh.. appreciate the praise, although misguided, and definitely pretentious coming out of those jagged teeth.” Ahsik managed to say as he stood, with one hand extended to his opponent. “If I recall correctly, you have made many mistakes yourself.’” Ahsik said with a smirk. The zabrak spread his feet, and rolled his shoulders, using his free right hand, he ran it through the Afro of hair and freed it from the coils that caught his horns. Quejo had then changed his stance, triggered by some stimulus. “Put that hand down boy, I’ve more powers in the dark side than you’ve seen in your nightmares.” Quejo spat. Ahsik soon lost his smirk, “you let him die didn’t you?” He said, walking up to the Sith. Quejo’s eyes light up at the words, feeling the anger from the unspoken taunt.

However, as Ahsik was walking to Quejo, he lowered his hands. Then, the pressure on Quejo’s mind lifted, along with the eerie feeling and bile that sat in his throat were alleviated as well. Ahsik spread his hands, raising one over his head and the other under his chin. Ahsik stopped walking and passed his hands over his face, like an actor changing expressions. “Why did you let me die Father? You always said you’d protect me” The voice and living image of a Pau’an child, unknown to Ahsik before that day, covered his as he spoke to Quejo.

Quejo had been struck, for a moment, with both a sadness like a void, and a hatred that burned greater than a white star.

“You... you insolent child. YOU DARE? YOU DARE TO SEEK THE FACE OF MY CHILD IN ME AND USE IT AGAINST ME?!??” Quejo screamed with tears in his eyes and lunges with both ignited lightsabers, and in that moment the mask of a saddened child woven over his opponent’s face vanished, and it showed a sinister smile. Stepping into the twin lightsabers, Ahsik appeared to crash into Quejo, however to the Warlord’s surprise, never touched him. The colors making up the Hunter swirled and vanished, the light of his lightsabers faded away and the sound of its energy cell was silent.

In all but a moment, the twin image of Ahsik stepped forward and cross punched the warlord square in the nose, having been hidden behind the illusion he had crafted.

The impact left the warlord stunned, and for a moment shocked. The dark creature of the dark side was not stunned for long, pushing out his hand he took hold of the air. As though he was trying to grip Ahsik in his hand, the smug Zabrak was being lifted in the air.

“RRRAGH” Ahsik shouted as he threw his arms to his sides and ripped free of Quejo’s attempt to contain him. Drawing his stave and igniting it, he attempted to throw it at his opponent like a spear, with one arm forward and the other holding his stave over his shoulder. However, between pushing his abilities and his injuries, Ahsik was out of breath, and Quejo was still very, very angry. The ancient Pau’an Sith changed the gesture of his hand from one of holding, to one of imposing.

Ahsik was caught for a moment, stave in hand as he felt an unholy fear grip his heart, having stopped dead in his tracks.

Quejo did not stop with striking fear in the boy, he closed his eyes and put all the pain of his lost son into a raging torrent of power. The pain licked his fingers as it reached to strike the helpless and lost Sith apprentice before him.

“You have made the worst mistake of your life today, and we won’t stop until you’ve paid it back. Hehe... Even if it KILLS YOU.” Quejo allowed himself a small smile as he put every once of willpower into reducing this poor journeyman into a pile of rotting dust. Ahsik then perished screaming and crying for someone in a tongue Quejo would never understand, nor care to.

The virulent blades of Quejo died and again flashed to life as he began to pivot, displaying the true nature of his skills. Ahsik could look on, but only for a second as the Warlord left little time for him to regroup.

With a growl of pain, Ahsik rolled away as one of Quejo's blades came crashing down, cleanly slicing past him, left with nothing but duracrete to bite into.

Sparks and the crackle of energy filled the air as Quejo, now in a kneeling position, looked up and could only remember reeling back as a clenched ball of meat and bone crashed into his exposed jaw.

The punch carried Quejo's head to the right and his body would follow as he instinctively allowed the momentum to send him into a roll. His flashy form left an opening that the Hunter saw but Quejo did not until it was too late. A quick exhale was all that was needed to signal the veteran's displeasure as he stood to his feet, licking the blood from his lip.

"So, that's how you want it?" The Pau'an spoke, his voice resembling a growl as he disengaged both of his blades and flicked his shoulders to let his outer robe slide away and pile at his heels.

The Warlord knew, that with enough time, he could end it all with a swift stroke. But breaking the spirit of the Zabraki with his bare hands would be more worthwhile.

Ahsik flashed an accomplished smile as he basked in his pain. His fists clenched with anger.

The commotion of the Axio Station was chaotic and wreaked havoc on the Pau'an's ears as he turned to face his foe. With eyes now closed, he tuned in to the Force and began to churn his inherent powers. The vision of the Warlord became increasingly difficult to see as blackness washed over him. The obsidian colored vapors masked his being until it, in its entirety, streaked forward with a blinding speed that could only be conjured.

Ahsik readied himself as quickly as he could until the shrouded apparition was upon him. The Zabrak threw a wild kick into the mist but came up empty as his own head reeled back from a blow, that while strong, was not powerful enough to drop him.

The rock-solid jaw of the Hunter held up well as blood splattered from his mouth. He shook his head and with obvious instinct, rotated his forearms upward as the hand of the Warlord snaked out of the shadow.

Quejo was now impressed as his flat palm struck the muscular forearms of the defending Plagueian and suddenly a realization flashed through his mind, the Hunter's hands were more talented than he had originally thought. As he slipped around Ahsik's guard and drew his Lightsaber with one fluid motion, he watched as the Zabrak reached out with the Force. He beckoned his electrostaff and was probably disheartened when it didn't come.

"Sith don't play fair." Hissed the Taldryan Alchemist, thumbing the activation switch of his weapon as the emitter aligned with Ahsik's guts. Ahsik let out a howl that split the darkness as the blade crashed through his torso. But rather than fall, he reached out with both hands and tightened his fingers around the Warlord's throat.

Quejo's eyelids narrowed to slivers and he tightened his neck to protect it as he fanned his blade, separating the arms of the Zabrak from his body. The two stumps thumped to the ground and Ahsik dropped to his knees.

"Your trinket belongs to me. But don't dismay!" The Warlord spoke with an upbeat tone. "I'll fix it.." he growled before disappearing onto a passing tram.