The Vertical City. Nar Shaddaa. They call it the Smuggler's Moon—an apt description based on the myriad of sentients shuffling back and forth with their illegal wares and hidden weapons. The narrow streets below you criss-cross endlessly, soaring miles above the planet's surface. Exposed and uncovered, the streets offer a nearly perfect setting for someone with some skills with ranged weapons. Your own vantage point, standing on the ledge of a towering structure of glass and steel, offers you a dizzying view of the cityscape.

Your eyes scan the distance for enemies. Snipers could be set up in almost every building. The streets are plagued with violent gangs and the general riff raff of the poor and destitute. The streets may be an ideal place for blasters, but the winding streets are difficult to disappear from. An opponent would be easily boxed in and simple to finish with a few quick slashes of a lightsaber. The moon is dangerous—even for a Jedi.

The smell clung to him like a damp Wookiee, soaking into his pores and invading his senses with a determination born of years of cultivation. He tugged the cloak tighter around his shoulders, trying in vain to keep the rain from drenching him. The constant bellowing foundries of the city spewed pollution into the atmosphere with wild abandon, leaving the lesser denizens to deal with the resulting acid rain. He examined a small pock mark which had burnt its way into one of his boots.

A sound. He pulled back and away, the shadows surrounding him, along with a pile of detritus and trash. He crouched, his body still and tight, as he quieted his mind, allowing his senses to expand slowly, trying to collect as much data for his mind to process as possible. Was it a rat? He wasn't certain, but he knew that his prey was a crafty one.

A rash of metal on leather, or perhaps a tentacle on the iron piping which lined the walls of the alley? He closed his eyes, hoping it might allow his hearing to flourish in its absence. There were definitely footsteps moving towards him, he could tell. Slow, measured, almost Imperial in gait. He allowed himself an indulgent smile.

Lexiconus Qor, formerly of Clan Naga Sadow and Clan Arcona, was hardly a loyal creature. The Quarren seemed to cast from locale to locale, plying his trade with efficiency and dedication. But loyalty, it seemed, was lacking. He needed to be taught that to enter Scholae Palatinae is to stay for life. Time to put a little scare in the alien wretch.

One last footstep. He waited, barely breathing in his foxhole. He could almost reach out and touch the Quarren.

“I know you're here, Arch,” the creature warbled, his tentacles twitching as he spoke with a guttural accent, “I can smell you...”

The Bear of Ptolomea rose from his crouch, casting the piles of debris into the area with a flourish of his massive arms. A moment later, as Lexiconus turned to regard the sudden movement at his flank, he brought his hands from stretched out to his sides in to a deafening clap, directly in front of his quarry.

The debris responded immediately, returning from their escape trajectory to bombard the Quarren. Lexiconus reeled back, the particles of metal cutting at his slimy flesh, pushing him back. Archangel moved forward, a grin spreading across his face. He was covered head to toe with muck, his face blackened with paint. His armor was a mess and would need weeks of cleaning and sanitizing before it could be fit to be worn again. But surprise is always useful, and a little discomfort was a small price to pay.

And it is in this state that he advanced on his foe, a Warlord of Scholae Palatinae, an armored shade, smelling to high heavens. He drew his lightsaber and ignited it, its emerald blade casting light across his features. His grin widened.

“That wasn't very nice...” he said, before leaping at the Quarren, roaring a blood oath.

Staggering backwards in the hope of evading the cleaving from Arch’s Emerald blade, Lexiconus Qor tripped and wobbled as his clumsy boots back heeled against the trash. His slimy lightsaber hilt swiftly launched itself into his hand and ignited the silver blade, as Arch began to cleave heavily against the Quarren’s pathetic cross defence. The damage was obvious in Qor’s eyes, as with each overwhelming blow from the Shaevalian broke and cast aside the parries. The Quarren’s arms began to feel the strain and pulse with an excruciating pain, but he couldn’t give up just yet, his plan wasn’t ready. With each fumbling footstep towards the alley exit, Arch grew closer while the stench of success and rotting food left his body. As Qor’s failure to parry or counter became more and more evident to Arch, he decided to add a bit of flair. Concealing a palm from view while destroying the fallible defence of the Quarren, the Shaevalian whipped his palm forward and slammed it against Qor’s chest. The Dark Side slithered it’s way through Arch’s arm and cannoned itself directly into the body of the Quarren, who was catapulted up into the air and down a staircase of transparisteel.

“That all you got, soldier?” Qor let out a husky chuckle as he coughed up blood, while the Dark Side ruggedly stitched his bruises and cuts. He felt the pain of this tug o’ war inside his body, but it only forced him to toughen. The Quarren needed the harsh reality that this wasn’t a game of cat and mouse, but a choice of life and death. The question truly was who to die and who to survive, to pass on the best tactic of warrior or tactician. Qor spat some blood onto the stairs and forced himself up with the bannister, as the juggernaut stormed slowly towards him with a smile on his grungy face.

“Are you ready for more, Squid? You look like you’re ready for death.” The Shaevalian laughed out as he began to stride closer towards his ragdoll opponent. The Quarren had enough of the insults, he knew he wasn’t weak and needed to prove it. Deactivating his lightsaber and placing it back into his waistcloth, the Battlemaster roared out as he placed both of his hands together to form a ball. He cusped a sphere of Dark Side energy, which leeched from his body and grew in power. Arch could feel the disturbance but was unsure of what it was at first, but he saw a counter attack was coming from his prey, he felt ready. Lunging his hands out and open towards the Warlord, Qor shot a powerful wave of Dark Side energy that ensnared Arch and speared him violently against the alley’s end wall with a staggering whiplash.

“I am not your pawn, Human!” The Quarren shrieked out as he held the Shaevalian firmly against the mossy cobble, clenching and strangling at his neck. While the pitter patter of rain water showered Arch, Qor leered and gave off an icy grin. Releasing his grasp on the Shaevalian, Qor clasped his hands together once more and began to mutter a menacing chuckle. Flickering and whipping with a sapphire energy, the Dark Side swirling and darted towards his palms while fingers of electricity crackled towards raindrops and random pools in the alley. Arch held onto his neck with a shaking hand, but he wasn’t going to let a simple lack of air stop him now. The Warlord rose to his feet and wiped aside the rainwater while his snow white eyes pierced the downpour towards a strange blue light.

Reaching his crescendo, Qor bellowed out a husky cackle as he raised his clasped hands high into the air, while the fingers of lightning snapped and jumped towards the pattering of rain droplets. Devouring the water from above, the Dark Side energy built up and surrounded the Quarren’s hands in a raw and untrained show of light, until finally Qor slowly unhooked and widened his arms. Arch who could only look on at this display with worry, felt the tables have turned in his alley pocket and readied his lightsaber. His hands swiftly whipped towards Arch, Qor delivered a lethal array of lightning at the Shaevalian’s lightsaber which staggered the mighty man slightly. A few seconds into the barrage of Dark Side energy and Arch could handle and shepard the lightning easily while Qor flickered his wrists around to try and catch him off guard.

“You will have to try better than that, Squidface!” Arch shouted out, while trying to divert his eyes from the bright cerulean flashes. With a cold grin, the Quarren’s plan was coming together. He suddenly whipped the stream down and into the puddles close to Arch’s feet, that lit up the water and cuffed against the Warlord’s armour. The Dark Side energy crawled up and bit into the Shaevalian’s flesh with a singing effect, causing him to stiffen up and whip his arms out.

“You don’t tell me what to do in my playground, Human! You will die!” With another manic cackle, Qor walked closer and unleashed more Dark Side energy into the puddles, streaming the lightning into Arch.

His muscles spasmed, twitching reflexively as the electrical energy arched it's way through his body. His jaw clenched, his teeth creaking under the strain of contracting muscles. His hand's grip on his lightsaber tightened, the ceramic of his armored glove grinding against the ridges. But his eyes were open, and watching Lexiconus. One did not live to his age, nor rise through the ranks of an organization such as the Dark Brotherhood without being electrocuted a few times. He was by no means used to it, but it would take a lot more than a Battlemaster to overcome him with such an ability.

He lurched forward, starting to close the gap with the Quarren, whose electrical stream had now been diverted to the puddles on the ground. Despite the near constant acidic rainfall of the moon of Nar Shaddaa, the surface of the alley had only patches of water, and with a few steps, Archangel had made his way to the relative safety of one of these 'islands'. His muscles ached with the forced convulsions, but with a draw of energy from within, he suppressed the pain, ignoring it for now. It would return, eventually, but that price would be paid then. For now, murder was the only thing on his mind.

Lexiconus moved to the side, his electrical attack petering out as he began to tire. Archangel grinned, and leaped, not towards the Quarren Battlemaster, but up the wall, his hand grabbing at a heavy iron water pipe, secured to the wall with bolts. It shuddered menacingly, as if ready to dump him immediately, but it held against his weight. With another, Force-adjusted leap, he cleared the roof of the building across the alley, and disappeared into the darkness.

The Battlemaster's laughter, guttural and feral, pealed out in the dank darkness of the alley, echoing back and forth through the rain.

“Coward!” he shouted, his tentacles flicking back and forth with excitement, “You flee from battle! The mighty Bear of Ptolomea?! Ha!”

He goaded the huge Shaevalian, one of the war leaders of Clan Scholae Palatinae. He had sent the man running, tail tucked firmly between his legs. His lightsaber spun in a celebratory flourish. He slashed it through a pipe attached to the wall, allowing a plume of steam to escape. He didn't see the shadow on the building above him, nor did he hear the crunch of the gravel which made up the roof covering.

Warlord Archangel Palpatine dropped from the building's roof, landing directly on top of the Quarren, the alien collapsing bonelessly as the huge bulk of the Shaevalian slammed into him. The pair rolled a few times before Archangel came out on top, his massive frame easily overpowering the smaller Battlemaster. His right hand slammed into the Quarren's throat, and began to suffocate him.

“What's wrong, squid?” Archangel said, his teeth gritted with feral triumph, “You look shocked,”

With his hand holding Lexiconus by the neck, he rose, yanking the poor alien from the ground and holding him aloft. The Quarren's already rubbery skin was slick with water, damp, and perspiration. The electrical discharge Archangel emptied into his neck conducted beautifully through his body. Lexiconus let out a watery scream of pain, which slowly dilated away as Archangel threw him bodily across the alley into the opposite wall.

The Warlord drew his lightsaber, his blood pulsing with adrenaline. Rage welled up inside him, filling every corner of his being with it's crimson anger. He bared his teeth in a feral, wild gesture, and charged, roaring with animalistic fury. A few meters short of Lexiconus, he leaped, lightsaber above his head and striking down at the prone creature.

The sting of the emerald blade thrashed and burnt against his leathery flesh, the scent of cooking flesh overpowering his own nostrils despite resistance. With the lightsaber locked firmly into Qor’s shoulder, Archangel gritted and bared his teeth, possessing the demeanor of a feral creature, edging the blade as it slowly cleaved and carved a hole into the Quarren’s shoulder. Panting heavily and slowly losing the will to live, Qor squirmed weakly on the alley floor as the pitter patter of the acidic rain ate away at his burnt flesh. As the Quarren fell helpless at the hands of the Warlord, Arch mercilessly yanked his lightsaber from the wound and gripped Qor’s neck tightly. The Warlord then lifted and dragged his prey towards the alley’s railings and forced the weak Quarren to look out towards Nar Shaddaa.

“See Squid, this is what the narrow city looks like. This is what it does to people.” Archangel grinned and then with a hard shove and grunt, tossed Qor over the edge. He peered over the railings to enjoy the sight of the Quarren’s body as it slowly plummeted down into the darkness of the steep city. His ears heard the distant ping and clang of the Quarren’s body slam against the railings of an alley below and crash through the metal grid. There was no doubt in the Warlord’s mind Qor was now dead, as either the shock or the impact on metal grid would have immediately killed him. Content with his work, Archangel deactivated his lightsaber and brought up his holocommunicator. Upon activation, a blue hologram appeared of a woman relaxed into a bucket chair and tapping a high heel slowly, she began purring to the Shaevalian.

“I’ll be there soon darling, warm those covers for me.” Arch spoke softly as he began to walk down the staircase and into the shadows.