A pair of massive, ancient doors loom at the entrance to the throne room. Upon opening, they give way to a large chamber with a high ceiling carved smoothly into stone. The chamber itself is the size of a professional holo-ball court but the hard-tile flooring has been sand-blasted to perfection and patterned symmetrically throughout. Tall, rounded pillars frame a center dais that forms an elevator platform. Perfectly centered on the low platform is the heart of Clan Arcona's power—the Serpentine Throne. The ornate throne stands several feet above the head of even the tallest Shadow Lords. The dais is back lit by an ever glowing wall of flame that attunes itself to the order-color of the current Consul. A sable carpet trimmed with white lays down over the shallow steps and continues all the way towards the entrance doors.

The Throne Room is completely sound-proofed, and almost feels like entering a vacuum. Voices carry easily, but never leave the chamber. A combination of alchemy and engineering allow the room to be shut off from the rest of the Citadel while maintaining proper ventilation for the unique curtain of flame. It maintains a steady if not warm room temperature, ignorant to the climate outside and throughout the Citadel's ancient walls.

Perhaps the most defining feature of the Throne Room is the wall of flames that curtain behind the throne itself. These flames tend to reflect the desires of the current Shadow Lord or lady. The current flames are white for Consul Atyiru Ceasura Entar.

Zakath sighed softly as he stood beside the empty Serpentine Throne, his glowing violet eyes gazing into the wall of white flame that danced eternally before him, hands clasped behind him. He had been busy of late with his new duties, hunting down the Inquisitorius, and ensuring the safety of Undesirables under Arcona’s protection. But despite his heavy workload, he made it a point to keep track of his adoptive family.

And one member in particular had… displeased him.

His eyes narrowed slightly as the faint squeak of hinges reached his ears, but otherwise he did not move. Instead, he reached out with the Force, lightly probing behind him to the entrance to the Throne Room where the new arrival had just stepped in, closing the door behind him. The being that entered made no pretense of hiding, and Zakath felt another sigh escape him as he saw in his mind what he expected to see. A raging storm of emotions that battled among themselves for dominance within the newcomer. He could feel the being’s anger, shame, guilt, and countless other emotions whirl about within him, and no sense of control anywhere to be seen.

To Zakath’s mind, Rrogon Skar was a very sad sight indeed.

The Barabel turned and strode to the edge of the dais, finally laying eyes on the Kaleesh who came to a stop at the foot of the stairs. Rrogon Skar Agrona was dressed in his normal robes, his traditional bone mask hiding all of his facial features save his crimson eyes, which stared up at Zakath unblinkingly.

“Grandfather, why have you summoned me here?”

Zakath’s face hardened into a stone mask as the question was asked, his own violet eyes staring back at Rrogon. He held the unblinking stare for a long moment, until finally the Kaleesh broke it off, shifting his gaze to the roaring white flames behind the Barabel.

“I summoned you here so that we can talk,” Zakath said at last, his voice low and guttural. “You have caused chaos within the Clan with your temper. I came to find out why and to put an end to it.”

“Chaos?” The Kaleesh’s voice was a growl. “What business is that of yours? I am trying to get it under control!”

“You carry the family name,” Zakath hissed. “That makes it my business. Losing your temper because of insults by a Ryn rat about some concoction you conjured up, and almost destroying the bar in the process. Attacking your Quaestor on Nar Shaddaa for doing his rightful duty in protecting the Clan’s reputation and secrets… Despicable.”

“How did you-” Rrogon’s voice carried a note of confused shock as he blinked and returned his stare to Zakath.

“I keep track of family,” Zakath growled. “You call yourself Arcona’s monster. But I see what you are becoming. You are no monster, Rrogon. You... are nothing more than a rabid animal.”

The Barabel unclipped his lightsaber and ignited it, the bloodshine blade springing into existence as he gripped the curved hilt with both hands. The Kaleesh remained where he was, staring woodenly up at his adoptive Grandfather. Reaching out with the Force, Zakath felt disgust well up within himself as he sensed the whirling confusion and hurt inside Rrogon.

“And you know what we do to rabid animals, don’t you, Rrogon?” Zakath growled as he began to step down the stairway, his lightsaber humming as it moved gently through the still air. “They are put down… for the safety of everyone.”

Zakath’s tongue flicked out in dark amusement as he heard the sharp intake of breath whistled through the shocked Kaleesh’s lips as Rrogon staggered back a step, as if slapped in the face.

“You… are here to kill me.”

“You are a threat to the Clan. I love you as family… but my loyalty to Arcona is above even that,” Zakath hissed as he continued his descent. “You threaten us. That cannot continue.”

Before Skar could answer, Zakath leapt the last few steps down to the tiled floor and sprang forward, his crimson blade blurring into an overhead attack to cleave the Kaleesh into two pieces. It was only a whisper from the Force that prompted Rrogon to ignite his own lightsaber and block the killing blow, sending him stumbling back a step from the velocity of Zakath’s attack.

The crimson blade recoiled and sprang forward again in a slash designed to slice the Kaleesh’s belly open. This time, Rrogon was more prepared, his yellow blade blocking the cleaving slash before whirling away to give himself a second’s pause.

“You are only delaying the inevitable, Rrogon,” Zakath growled as he raised his blade to a guarded position. “Why not accept that you are rabid and need to be put down? I promise death will come swiftly.”

The Kaleesh’s stance wavered as cold ice carved it’s way through his soul, the massive Barabel standing in front of him, his Grandfather lightsaber - in hand - ready to kill him. All the things he said were true: He had become an animal. Skar was unable to control his emotions anymore, even now he could feel the tempest inside of him, a swirling mass of hatred and betrayal clouding his mind.

The Juggernaut reached up to the clasps that held his mask in place and slowly removed them one-by-one until the mask simply fell to the floor, revealing the horrid visage of burns and scars. A deforming amount of raised tissue that formed a second mask of their own. Rage curled its way into his heart as he lifted his head to meet his Grandfather's gaze once more.

Meeting those glowing eyes was one of the hardest things Rrogon had done in many years. He could feel the full weight of the power behind them and the conviction that drove them. There would be no talking his way out of this. This was going to be his last fight and the Sith knew it.

“No.” Whispered the Kaleesh and while his heart was shattered into pieces, the grip on his lightsabre tightening

“No?” Asked Zakath his head cocking to one side. “Then you intend to fight.”

Zakath commented, barely needing a response as the Kaleesh lept forward and drove the emerald blade at the Barabels chest. Zakath stepped forward, meeting the strike head-on, and deflected the blow with ease. He watched the eyes of his grandson glow with anger, even as tears could be seen streaming down his face.

“So be it.” Growled the Marauder, charging forward with a fury of raw strikes that Skar met with his own onslaught of dominant attacks. Each blow was met, pushing both combatants back as neither combatant found a way around the others blade. Although the Kaleesh was far stronger, there was no breaking his grandfather defense.

With each blow a piece of Skar died and the pain of this fight slowly chewed away at his reason, the rage only making it worse, as hate and fury howled from within him like the storms of his home planet. It barely registered to Rrogon that he had begun to scream at the Barabel, letting the rage of his mind and soul venting though his voice.

Pain flickered across Zakath’s features as he pressed his attack. His movements becoming faster and more powerful as the Marauders violet eyes flared with the dark power that fueled him. Rrogon was being pushed back as Marauder advanced further and further into the throne room and away from the light of the fire behind the Serpentine throne.

Rrogon knew this could be his end and tried to reach into his grandfather's mind only to be locked out the instant he touched it. The Juggernaut growled, slipping into his blood rage and instantly felt his heart began to strain with the effort. Sweat poured down his face and stung his eyes as the two family members continued their relentless attacks.

The Marauder pushed aside a strike aimed to cleave his stomach and spun around, driving his foot into the Kaleesh's unprotected face. However, when it connected, it stopped dead in it tracks as the Sith hardened his body against the blow.

Rrogon could feel the Force as it sparked through his nerves and across his body, hardening it like durasteel. A stunned look flickered across the Barabel’s face as he tried to move back, but instead he was met with a wave of telekinetic force that sent him flying off his feet.

The Barabel crashed to the ground a few feet away. He was quick to recover and soon rose once more to glare at his Grandson, who was panting from the rage and sorrow that was tearing him apart. This sent a pang of regret though Zakath to see his family in such a pitiful state and yet he knew this had to be done.

This was going to be the end of Rrogon Skar.

“Rrogon I had such hopes for you, I was proud once b…”

“SHUT UP!” Bellowed the Kaleesh as he charged forward his lightsaber hammering into Zakath’s and the power of the strike sent the Battleteam leader staggering back, something had changed in Rrogon and the Marauder could feel it. This wasn't good.

Zakath was thrown entirely onto the defensive as Rrogon cast aside the last shackles holding back his rage. Biting off a snarl, he allowed the Force to flow through him and direct his lightsaber. Each powerful blow that the Kaleesh warrior made was met by the Barabel’s scarlet blade, seemingly arriving just before he could cut his Grandfather down. Rrogon’s enraged strength however was forcing Zakath back, step by step as they fought across the tile floor, their blades blurring together.

Zakath could feel his strength beginning to fail under the Kaleesh’s angry onslaught, but still he trusted in the Force, knowing that the Warrior could not keep it up for much longer. His breathing quickened as he felt himself approaching one of the tall curving grey stone walls of the massive throne room. He had controlled the retreat to this point, but now Rrogon was about to strike a major blow.

This was going to hurt.

As soon as he felt his back hit the wall, the Barabel dove sideways just as Rrogon brought his lightsaber crashing down. But- he was just a hair of a second too slow. The roar of pain that erupted out of Zakath was thunderous as the Kaleesh’s lightsaber cleaved through his thick tail. As he crashed onto the floor, his entire backside seemed as if it were on fire, his talons scratching thin gouges into the tiles as he crawled away, his lightsaber rolling away ahead of him. Behind him, Rrogon had momentarily frozen up, staring down at the severed tail that laid on the floor, hot black blood oozing out of the smoking cut.

Zakath’s pointed teeth gritted together as he clamped down on the pain, shutting it away as he slowly rose back to his feet, retrieving his lightsaber in the process. His eyes was glowing fiercely now as he stared venomously at his Grandson, his scarlet blade re-igniting. He could feel the rage bleeding out of the Kaleesh now as Rrogon tore his gaze away from the tail and whirled around to face his Grandfather.

Now it was his turn.

“Tell me, Rrogon,” Zakath hissed out, his voice dangerously low as he raised his lightsaber, both hands on the long curved hilt as he slowly approached the Kaleesh. “What drives your power?”

“...what?” Rrogon’s voice carried notes of exhaustion and confusion in its tone as he cautiously raised his lightsaber, its yellow blade casting a sickly glow on the Kaleesh’s scaly skin.

“Rage drives my power,” Zakath continued on in his low hissing tone as his eyes began to flare up. “When someone cuts off my tail, for example.”

The Barabel let out a deafening roar and threw himself forward, his scarlet blade blurring forward to smash into Rrogon’s blade and sending the Warrior stumbling backward. Without giving him a second’s pause, Zakath pressed the attack, his strength growing with each staggering blow as the Dark Side flowed through him, his fury feeding it. Zakath’s crimson blade recoiled and smashed into Skar’s lightsaber blade again and again, each crushing blow stronger than the last as the Kaleesh frantically backpedaled under his furious hammering attacks

Rrogon was defending himself well under Zakath’s onslaught, but he was tired, and his earlier drawing of his rage had to have impacted his weakened heart. Having been privy to Rrogon’s previous moments of weakness, this was a factor that Zakath was now intending to exploit.

The enraged blows continued to land, but with each second that passed, Rrogon’s blocks and parries became increasing slower. One last crushing blow, and the Warrior was just a hair too slow. Zakath’s burning scarlet blade sliced through Rrogon’s fingers and through of half of his hand. The yellow blade vanished as it fell from suddenly nerveless fingers, the hilt clattering onto the tiled floor as the Kaleesh fell to his knees, suppressing a groan as he pressed the stump of his hand against his chest.

Zakath was breathing hard now and a pounding headache was beginning to settle inside his skull. Growling, he set his booted foot onto Rrogon’s chest and shoved him onto his back, his lightsaber blade receding as he thumbed it off. Zakath sent another kick from his booted foot, smashing it into the fallen Warrior’s ribs. Skar let out a sharp cry as his ribs cracked from the impact.

“What are you waiting for?” Rrogon groaned out, his teeth grinding as he glared up at his Grandfather. “Finish it.”

Zakath dropped to one knee and studied his Grandson’s face for a long moment, his breathing slowly returning to normal, even as his headache began to intensify. Suddenly he seized Rrogon’s throat and squeezed, hard enough to almost cut off the air supply. The Kaleesh made some gurgling choking noises as he tried to pry off Zakath’s hand with his sole remaining one.

“You listen to me now and you listen good,” Zakath hissed out, his eyes strangely fading away to their normal jade green color, with black reptilian pupils staring down at Skar’s crimson eyes. “You made me proud once, when you were doing things for the right reasons. But you lost my pride the instant you started losing control over your temper for the stupidest of reasons.”

Zakath’s grip loosened just a hair, enough for Skar to breathe slightly easier but not enough to talk.

“But you are family, and I am not without a heart,” He continued on, his eyes unblinking. “You will remain here at the Citadel, and you will learn everything that Atyiru has to teach you. You will master your temper. And if you lose it again, it had better be for a damn good reason. Because if I have to come back here, Rrogon…”

Zakath’s eyelids closed for what felt like a long moment, but was in reality only a few seconds. And then they opened again and this time… they glowed like hot purple coals.

“...it will be for the last time,” Zakath finished, his grip tightening again. “Is that understood?”

The Kaleesh frantically nodded and the Barabel released his crushing grip, rising to his feet and beginning to stumble toward the throne room doors, his muscles trembling with exhaustion and the barely repressed pain that he was still holding at bay. Before he could reach them however, the doors flung open and several people rushed in, followed swiftly by a woman clad in loose fitting robes, her eyes hidden behind a colorful cloth blindfold.

“Skar first,” Atyiru Caesura Entar commanded to the men that had entered ahead of her before she turned her attention to Zakath, quickly looking him over.”Tail’s severed, but it looks like it will grow back… otherwise just general exhaustion… how’s your head?”

“I will live,” Zakath growled softly before suddenly wincing as a sharp pain erupted behind one of his eyeballs. “Barely,”

“Uhuh. Now do you want to explain why you felt the need to beat up Skarbie?” Atyiru’s voice took on a disapproving tone. “He was confined here already and was under my supervision. There was no need for-”

“No!” Zakath snarled as he suddenly jabbed a sharp talon into her chest. Impressively, Atyiru didn’t backpedal from the impact. “No! You would have lectured him, like all the others! Skar has been lectured to about his temper time and again! By you as well, repeatedly! No, he needed to be broken!”

“Broken?” Atyiru’s voice maintained its disapproving tone. “And what exactly is beating him up supposed to accomplish?”

“An ordinary beating would accomplish nothing. It is the fact that I beat him down that matters. What is it that you healers are so fond of quoting?” Zakath cocked his head before continuing on, his voice taking on a mocking tone. “Ah, ‘A twisted bone must be broken and reset before it can properly heal.’ I believe is the proverb you medics are so fond of. Rrogon’s spirit was twisted. Now it is broken. Now the healing under you can commence.”

Zakath turned his gaze toward Rrogon, who was being helped onto a repulsorsled and being stabilized for transportation to the medical center.

“I broke him so he can heal,” Zakath repeated. “He will listen to you now. If he cannot comprehend your lessons, then dispatch him to the blasted Jedi, if need be. But he will master his temper, or it will kill him. One way or another.”

“Zakath, I-”

Zakath waved off her words with an irritable hand.

“I’m going to my quarters to… clean up. Keep me appraised of his status.”

Atyiru remained silent as she watched the Barabel limp off before turning her attention to the now bed-bound Kaleesh, floating on his replusorsled and now unconscious, one of the medics having retrieved his sliced off fingers for possible reattachment surgery. She pinched her nose and sighed.

“You Agronas…”

Proud. This word ignited something dark in him. Terrible rage that tore through his integrity. Those mental barriers, that the current counsel of Arcona had painstakingly tried to place in order to save him, shattered all at once. All the rage and fury grew into something new, something burning like a small star inside the Kaleesh. It drove him, consumed him, and at the same time, was killing him.

The Juggernauts heart finaly began to shut down, being pushed past his limits, and the pain that coursed through his body was unlike anything he had ever felt before. But it was nothing compared to the pain Zakath had caused him, saying he had once been proud.

Proud of what? A falling Kaleesh, one doomed since birth? One, who despite everything, he had done everything for his family. Every kill, every attack, and every struggle he had gone through had been for his family. Could they not see that? Could they not see the love he had put into protecting that family which had took him in?

As the words came spilling out of his mouth Skar could do nothing to stop them, all of his emotions were spilling out all at once. His fear,rage and sorrow pushed to the tipping point.

“How can you say you were proud Zakath!” The Kaleesh screamed as he drove his Grandfather back the Dark side pulsing in through him driving his movements. Desperation began to form on the Barabel’s face, sensing what Rrogon was doing to himself. He could feel the pain and anguish emanating from the young Gladiator as he lashed out at him again and again.

It took everything Zakath had to block those strikes, those too-true blows coming from the dominating form of Rrogon. welded coming to bear down on him.

“I was Rrogon but you brought this down on yourself!” Roared Zakath as he blocked another overwhelming blow that would have taken his head clean from his shoulders if his own rage at the situation was not driving him.

“You never understood NO one ever understood what i've done!” Again the Kaleesh bore down on his Grandfather all sense of morality towards killing him fading away as his mind began to unravel from the stress on both his body and mind tear almost blinding him just as much as his rage was.

“Understand what Rrogon you are not making any sense!” Backing up further Zakath could see the fabric of Rrogon mind beginning to tear away, but something else caught his attention far back in the front of the throne room the Barabel could see Atyiru along with several members of the medical facility and several of the Arconae stood with her as well. All except Atyiru were impassive as she was being held back by Wuntilla the look a grief and worry spread across her face.

His attention snapped back to Rrogon as the Kaleesh lunged forward once more his strike becoming more erratic and deadly. Faster and faster they came and not even the Barabels rage and skill could keep them back. Inside Rrogon mide, the last bits of his sanity were struggling to keep themselves together and even then their vain attempts were failing.

“All I ever did, I did to make you proud! Tell me how proud you are Zakath! Tell me! TELL ME!” Smashing aside the Marauders saber Rrogon made for the killing blow. Zakath could see the murderous intent in Skar eyes even though the tears that streaked down his face and seemingly not of his own will his arms moved and deflected the blow the Emerald blade carving a gash into the stone ground next to him.

In a flash of movement, Rrogon saw the life he lived the mistakes, the love, his family, and wife all flashed before his eyes as the crimson blade of his grandfather's lightsaber plunged into his chest. The searing burning fire causing him to drop his own blade to the ground deactivating as it clattered to the floor. An audible cry could be heard as Atyiru broke her way out of the Arconaes grasp and made her way over to the two Argona’s

The crimson blade was deactivated a second later as Kaleesh crumpled to the floor in a almost lifeless heap of flesh and sorrow Zakath knelt next to his grandson the fear and sadness overcoming him as his next words were a mere whisper.

“I've always been proud of you and…. And it was my pride that blinded me to what you were becoming…. To what the Darkside was turning you into I'm so sorry Rrogon.”

Seconds later Atyiru was next to them her hands rolling the Kaleesh onto his back as she began to try and save his life, calling out to the medical team they made their way over to the trio and moved Skar onto a stretcher and made their way Zakath in tow to the emergency medical center within the citadel.