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 itself 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 flora, 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 rumoured to still haunt the grounds—waiting for poor, misguided fools to walk blindly into their domain.

Andrelious was starting to become very tired of flying across the galaxy. Even in his time as a starfighter pilot he had not seen so many different places in such a short space of time. Worse still, his orders regularly demanded that he travel without Kooki, leaving the Sith without backup if things went awry.

The Rollmaster, not known for a love of history, was slouched against a pillar when he began to feel the presence of another Force user nearby. Sure enough, the Taldryanite turned to spot his contact: A’lora Kituri, a former High Councillor of the so-called Jedi Clan, Odan-Urr.

“Ah. So you’ve decided to show up, then?” Andrelious asked.

“The Lotus will not waste the time of its members,” the new arrival replied.

“About that, Miss Kituri. I’m not exactly a full member of the Lotus,” the Sith explained.

“I am not a fool, Andrelious. The Force has given me clairvoyance enough to see exactly what you are about. You’re going to destroy anyone who gets in your way, regardless of their affiliation,” A’lora stated.

Andrelious smirked. “Then perhaps you should stay out of my way. The Lotus’ goals are not my own, Miss Kituri. We just share quite a few common enemies,”

“Yet all I can see in the Force is you killing both sides. You’ll happily join forces with the Lotus when it suits you, but as soon as your common enemies are dead? You’ll attack us, too,” the Togruta answered.

“Your visions are clouded. I’m just more likely to deem a higher number of losses to be acceptable so long as the mission is complete. Losses that will be far less if you give me the intelligence dossiers that I was sent to receive,” Andrelious said.

A’lora shook her head. “All I can see is you leaving death and suffering in your wake. The sooner you understand that, the better,”

“You Jedi are all the same. You all try and preach me to death,” the Rollmaster sneered. “Just hand over those dossiers and we can both get back to our own lives,”

“Unfortunately you Sith are also all the same. I am not convinced you’ll do the right thing with these dossiers,” the Arcanist replied.

“Very well, Miss Kituri. You’ve left me with little choice,” the male snapped, extending his hands outwards. A split-second later, lightning burst from his outstretched fingers. To his shock, however, as Andrelious’ attack made contact, A’lora faded out of existence.

“I just had to be sure. It never takes a Sith long to resort to threats and violence. I can’t see how helping you would benefit anyone other than yourself,” the Togruta declared from behind Andrelious. Spinning on his heel, the Rollmaster spotted an identical facsimile of the A’lora that had just disappeared. This time, the female was armed with a long handled lightsaber.

Andrelious didn’t need a second look to know what was about to happen. He activated his silver hilted lightsaber and moved into a defensive stance just in time to block an incredibly speedy attack from the Odanite. A’lora was far from finished and continued with a series of ferocious, almost chaotic slashes that forced Andrelious into increasingly uncomfortable territory.

Even with the Force helping steer his blade, the Sith had difficulty with his opponent’s sheer speed.

A’lora slowed down slightly to briefly catch her breath. Mimosa-Inahj immediately took advantage of the lull in strikes to land a powerful attack of his own, forcing a desperately defensive parry from his opponent.

“Game on, Miss Kituri!” the Sith shouted.

Is that what this is to him, a game?

The Togruta shook her head in disgust; for one to have survived Cotelin’'s bombardment of his homeworld, the Sith lacked tact, choosing instead to pursue his own goals while his comrades fought in Karufr’'s memory.

Revenge? That, she knew all too well. Even so, the Sith across from her was different - a loose canon. Once this alliance no longer served his needs - his desires - he would have no obligation to refrain from his darker tendencies.

And so, he is no better than Pravus and his ilk.

Wasting no time on words to fall on deaf ears, the Togruta was the first to re-engage. She struck in a series of wide arcs, slow-moving attacks that Andrelious redirected without much effort, but left him at a disadvantage, for the additional reach of her lightsaber meant that the Seeker needed to be the one to narrow the distance.

Or aim to gain some ground, he corrected himself while remembering the familiar weight of the BlasTech at his side.

Andrelious deflected each blow as it was delivered, his opponent'’s grip on the far end of her hilt allowing better leverage at the expense of accurate and nimble strikes - an unorthodox tactic, for certain.

Duck, Andrelious'’ instincts broadcast the message to him, though without the use of words. The Warlord lowered his head just in time to feel the sensation of singeing hairs on the back of his neck as the glowing-hot plasma scythed a tight arc overhead. Her lightsaber’'s blade missed, instead embedding itself within the stone column beside him. On its return vector, the emerald stream carved a wedge from its fluted surface outlined in an orange glow, showering the Seeker in concrete and molten rock.

Both combatants felt the tumultuous shuddering throughout the ruined building, the shifting of weight as the floor above lost one of the pillars beneath it. "Well,"” Andrelious commented at the ceiling, “"this is unfortunate… for us both.”"

A’'lora was gone the moment that Andrelious'’ focus shifted towards their latest obstacle - the likelihood of being buried alive. Darting from side to side as debris fell around her, the Togruta moved with a grace that Andrelious might have envied in this particular moment, had he the time to witness it.

Andrelious himself was far less blessed, his lightsaber'’s blade blinking out of existence to free himself for the task at hand. Invisible tendrils of the Force collected between his fingertips and the column's midsection, forcing the chunk of concrete to hang in the air above the Warlord as a shield. Several errant slivers broke from its surface under the bombardment of falling rubble, striking the Human’'s face and arms with enough force to leave small abrasions and cuts across the surface of his skin.

The moment after the balconied platform finished its relentless assault, Andrelious scanned the area for his would-be contact; however, his vision was obscured behind a fog of dust and particulate matter that followed the wreckage. Gotcha, he inwardly smirked at seeing the outline of a horned figure emerging from the haze, the dust gathering around its shoulders. His blaster left its holster with the practiced precision of a soldier, releasing three shots into the obfuscating cloud.

“"Guess I’'m not as observant as I’'d thought,”" the Taldryanite grumbled at the three orange-rimmed holes decorating what was once a statue devoted to one of the great Sith Lords.

“"Oops.”"

He hadn'’t the time to register similar silhouettes forming among the settling dust before the Councillor materialized at the corner of his peripheral vision, the blade of her lightsaber drawn and ignited. With the same confidence from earlier, the Human levelled the BlasTech’'s barrel at his opponent's chest.

“"Farewell, Miss Kituri,”" he indulged himself before letting loose another three-burst salvo. All three found their trajectories; however, neither had an effect. The crater in the wall opposite behind the shattered illusion was evidence enough of that.

The shuffling of feet behind him drew a thin smile across his lips, “"So, are we moving to further ‘'negotiations,' then?"

It’s a pity. I’d have liked to have left this one alive. Her abilities, whilst annoying, would certainly have been useful against Pravus, Andrelious thought.

The Sith was beginning to wonder just how long A’lora would be able to keep the illusions coming. He turned on his heels, immediately shooting in the direction that he heard footsteps. Andrelious felt that he was still just firing at nothing, but as the Togruta parried the blaster bolts away with her lightsaber, he realised that he’d finally found his opponent.

“Let’s stop the smoke and mirrors!” The Sith challenged, swapping weapons so he was once again armed with his lightsaber. “Now, shall we?”

A’lora answered by simply leaping at the Taldryanite. Although she was still moving with an agility beyond that of Andrelious, she was finding herself beginning to slow down. She’d already been fighting with the Sith for some time, and projecting so many images of herself had drained her energy reserves. If Andrelious had noticed, however, he did not show it as he continued to struggle with the Togruta’s speed.

Stepping back for a moment, A’lora attempted to force a long enough pause from combat to allow herself to recover. Allowing the Force to wash through her body, the Arcanist started to feel a lot less drained.

The Odanite was brought back to the harsh reality of combat as Andrelious hit her with an almost supercharged blow of his lightsaber. The Sith followed up with another trio of forceful strikes, before returning to patterns that A’lora had already identified as the trademarks of a Djem So practitioner.

A’lora did her best to counter, but she had not been given anywhere near enough recovery time to allow her to operate at her full capacity. Her focus changed from stopping Andrelious to simply surviving. The Sith too was starting to tire, but he kept on barricading the Togruta, compelling her to give up more and more ground.

With desperation growing, A’lora again searched within herself. This time, she did not focus on recovery. Snarling, she hit Andrelious with such vigour that the Sith nearly dropped his lightsaber. She hit harder and faster, as though winning the fight was the only thing that mattered in the entire galaxy.

Stepping backward, Andrelious trod on a loose piece of rubble, causing him to stumble back even further. Desperate to seize the sudden advantage, A’lora quickly followed, continuing her assault on the Sith. She hit his crimson blade over and over, hunting for an opening, but, as her adrenaline rush came to an end, exhaustion set in again. Seeing his chance, Andrelious went back onto the offensive.

Stabbing directly forwards, Mimosa-Inahj guided his lightsaber slightly to the right of A’lora’s defensive lunge. Having finally bypassed his opponent’s blade, the Seeker seemed to savour the moment that his weapon pierced through the female’s chest. The crimson blade sliced through key blood vessels, leaving the Togruta’s heart unable to do its job.

Dropping to the ground, her face twisted from the agony of the Sith’s fatal attack, the last thing that A’lora Kituri saw was Andrelious walking away, the dossier that he had come for safely in his possession.

Andrelious J. Mimosa-Inahj allowed himself a smile.

One less preachy Jedi. Time to take the war to the Inquisition!

“Negotiations, Sith? I’d rather…”

Now that she’d thought on his words, isn’t that exactly what she’d arranged this meeting with him for? Back channels were all she had available to her through her time aboard the Tortoise, the freighter that she’d shared with Jedi General Vorsa since hunting down the Grand Master’s Inquisitors for answers. Drawing from Odan-Urr’s resources was too risky, as the Inquisitorius would undoubtedly track Kiast’s location. She wanted to find Pravus, and this man, unscrupulous as he was, could be of some assistance in finding his associates.

Her lightsaber’s blade snuffed out, releasing a trail of smoke that mixed with the low-hanging particulate. Its mechanism folded back into itself, the handle becoming reminiscent of a lightsaber pike’s.

Andrelious sneered, “Well, this is a surprising development. I didn’t know a Jedi could see reason. Now,” his free hand stretched in front of him, fingers splayed, “the dossiers, Miss Kituri?”

“You will have the dossiers, but only those that I require in my search,” the Councillor exchanged, “Pravus will be located, but on my terms.”

“That was not the deal,” Andrelious’ voice turned bitter, despite his knowledge of a Councillor’s capabilities. The Force was a tool to influence the weak-willed, something she clearly was not.

“I’m changing the deal.”

Emerald and cerulean diffused through the fog in equal measure - a contrast to the blood-red glow of Andrelious’ that materialized from his hands. Falling into its holster, the E-11 returned to his side with a ‘thunk.’

Lightning arced in the distance between them while the snarling visage of a Togruta charged to meet the Sith’s blade directly. Following passages of charged ions from airborne minerals, streams of electricity danced in a cascade of white and violet among the ruin’s fallen remains, dispersing on contact with the Councillor’s drawn lightsaber. Other forks broke off from the Sith’s efforts, getting lost among the mineral deposits formed over millennia of absent caretakers. Superheating the gas in these hidden passages, both combatants soon felt a second quake, announcing the arrival of a third, then fourth…

Miniature explosions combined in a symphony of destruction, though the Togruta retained control over her footfalls. Andrelious, too, matched her resilience against the shuddering halls, raising his lightsaber in protest.

Each clash matched the thunderous blasts in a staccato, forming a choreography of their own. Andrelious’ nerves lit on fire as the Force bade him to retreat, to get clear of the shattering structure before it was too late. He shut its pleas from his mind, as he knew his opponent would be forced to, as well.

Although he could hardly manage to track both blades at once, the differences in hue made it easier to guess their direction, even if he were to blink. Each time one of the blades would close in for a kill that he could not block, the Sith would launch a bolt at his target, forcing her to redouble her efforts in grounding it.

Soon though, the Sith could summon naught but a spark between his fingertips.

He was done.

Though she could feel the perspiration rolling off her shoulders, A’lora fought on despite her exhaustion. With the advantage of using each failed slash to strengthen another, her attacks alternated between emerald and blue-hued cuts.

Whether he knew it or not, Andrelious found himself backpedalling through the crumbling vestige of the dark temple. While his opponent could use his parries as leverage for an attack from the opposite side, he needed to reposition after each successful block.

His senses cried out a warning, a moment too late before a blunt force cracked against his skull. When he woke, it was in a pool of blood dripping from his forehead. A datapad of dossiers lie on the ground beneath his fingers, its corner soaked a dark crimson as his vision blurred into focus.

His lip curled into a grin, “Jac Cotelin.”