Well. There's definitely somone attuned to the Dark Side here. Although there's something off about their connection to the Force, something almost painful.

-And they're probably aware of him. They seem, somehow, to be waiting.

A trap; how wonderful. 

He's almost certainly lost whatever element of surprise he might have possessed, but he cloaks himself in the Force as best he can anyway before leaving his ship. If nothing else, perhaps it will fool them into underestimating his abilities. 

And now to go Sith-hunting, tracking that Dark presence in the Force. 

They aren't trying to hide themself. They aren't flaunting themself either.

Their presence tracks to a building, tucked away somewhat in a rocky crag - there's not an easy way to approach it under cover. They're definitely inside though.

He sends one last update back to his ship, logging the location on the off-chance it might be useful in the event of his death. Not that he's expecting to die, but he didn't get to be one of the youngest Knights in half a century by only planning for success. 

Something in him rebels at the directness of bursting through the front door, but if it's the only option he'll take it. 

While the door is the main option, there does appear to be a narrow way down one side of the building, and there seems to be an access door on the roof?

Dropping down from the roof would be suitably dramatic, not that drama should be a consideration in any battle plan.

Now he's thinking, it also seems too obvious. He's well aware that trying to outsmart his opponent could lead him around in circles of logic trying to figure out how to surprise someone who's expecting the unexpected, but if they're at all intelligent they'll be expecting an approach from any of the three possible entrances. 

The front door might, in fact, be the superior option, just for the reduced likelihood that he'll impale himself directly onto the Sith's blade when he enters. 

Lightsaber at the ready, he busts the door open with a tiny explosive, standing to the side to avoid an initial strike if it comes. 

BOOM. 

What comes through the door is blaster-fire of all things. Two shots, and then nothing.

Oh, joy, both of them have learned more tricks than waving around a deadly glowstick. He can deal with a blaster.

He whirls out from cover and lets momentum carry him forward into the room, 'saber held in front of him to deflect the next shot if it comes. It's time to see who or what he's dealing with. 

No shot is forth-coming. There's a figure stood, seemingly relaxed, blaster in one hand, unignited 'saber in the other. It's hard to tell if they're male or female.

There's also an ancient model of droid stood to one side of the room, seemingly inactive.

He doesn't need to see the blade ignited to know its colour. This close, the Sith is unmistakable in the Force. 

Jerex spares only a single glance for the droid, just long enough to register its inactive state. Dismissing it as unlikely to be a threat, he focuses back on his target, who...doesn't seem to be attacking. That's unexpected, from a Sith. 

He doesn't deactivate his lightsaber, in the face of a loaded blaster, but he lowers it to a more relaxed guard position and waits. He's fast enough to flick the blade back up again if necessary. 

They start to move, circling around the edge of the room. "I was wondering if the Jedi would try to interfere." Their voice is distorted by the mask.

Are they going for an exit, Jerex wonders, or trying to bait him into the room? He stays where he is, the better to get outside if they try running. 

"Yes, we're good at that." Keep them talking; if you're talking then you aren't fighting. "I don't suppose there's any chance you'll go quietly?" 

"Now what kind of Sith do you take me for?"

"I'm not sure yet," he admits. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. 

"Why don't you tell me?" 

"Well that would be too easy."

They lunge smoothly, 'saber still unignited as they aim for him, unnaturally quick, and there's that painful tug at the Force again, focused around the Sith.

He blocks, with the same Force-aided speed. 

(The Force feels wrongrightwrong around them, distracting.) 

A vicious pleasure pulses through the Force. Purposeful, pushed at Jerex.

And the Sith angles the unlit 'saber towards his face and ignites it.

He meets it with his own, just inches from his skin - and now the dance is really on.

The light inside the room shifts constantly, whirling red and blue blades casting shadows that spin and dance along with the combatants. It might be beautiful to someone who wasn't fighting for their life. 

And the Sith starts to laugh, to cackle, delighted in their way at this fight. Not that it makes them any less dangerous an opponent.

Holding onto his control is harder than it's ever been. Something about the way the Force twists around this Sith is eroding all his carefully constructed defences, assaulting his mind with tantalising hints of what he could do, if he just let go a little...

The Sith must be doing something. It's the only explanation. He needs to finish this before they succeed in influencing him. 

So, how's he going to do that, then?

-Are those gaps in the Sith's defence? They look, perhaps, a little too deliberate, or a little too careless.

Jerex doesn't take the first opening he sees, nor the second. 

He does take the fourth. The patience of even the best Jedi has its limits, and he isn't exactly the best Jedi these days. 

The Sith gasps as he takes it, and then starts laughing again, reaching up one hand to release the catches on their helmet and pull it off-

"You are wasted as a Jedi," she hisses out as she lets her helmet drop to the floor.

...what.

What? 

Did he just fall into her trap? Because this Sith seems far too cheerful to have just lost. 

He's confused enough that he stops actively attacking, but doesn't drop his guard. 

"You're good. But you could be better."

"...I think I shall take that as a compliment."  

His saber is still pointed in her direction, no matter how relaxed she seems to be. 

Her lips quirk into a smile. "All that emotion. Think how powerful you could be if you used that."

He flinches, hard, taking half a step back before his brain catches up. It's probably just a guess, maybe she tries this on every Jedi, it doesn't mean—

But she has sharp eyes, and she was watching him. Her smile is probably not reassuring, it's an unpracticed motion that make her face pull in strange directions. "The Jedi are muzzling you. Keeping you caught up in their web."

He needs, he needs to get himself under control. He needs—

Breathe in. There is no emotion, there is peace. Breathe out. 

In. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. Out. 

"I don't have to listen to this." 

There is no passion—

"Peace. Is. A. Lie." She tilts her head back. "There is only passion."

He wants to close his eyes, block her out, but that might be just what she's waiting for.

Breathe. Breathe. There is no passion—

There is no passion, there is—

"Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power." She holds up one hand, electricity sparking off the tips of her fingers, not that he can see that, but he'll be able to feel it through the Force, and hear it crackle.

Yes, that sure is Force Lightning. What is going ON.

He notices, with the fraction of his attention that isn't on the Sith, that the tip of his lightsaber is wobbling. Why is it—oh. His hand is shaking. 

"Through power, I gain victory," her voice is dropping, as though sharing a secret, "Through victory my chains are broken. The Force shall free me."

...oh.

He believes her. 

It's hard not to, when she stands there so confident in her own power, lightning at her fingertips in a palpable display of the power she claims. 

And, oh, he wants it. It feels like the first sight of the ocean to someone who's spent his whole life in the desert, stumbling from oasis to spring. Not just something he didn't know he was missing, but something beyond his wildest imaginings. 

The Force shall free me. My chains—my chains—

"You could be so much more than you are."

"And, what, you'll teach me?" 

He's trying for contempt, misses by a mile and lands closer to the tone of a teenager lashing out at a lecturing parent, anger that's barely concealing tears. 

"I'm not a very good teacher," she admits frankly. "But I can show you. Give you the tools you need to free yourself."

"...for what price?" 

"Information. It's hard to go unnoticed on the core worlds. And who doesn't want to know their enemy."

He's faintly suspicious that she's offering the trade only to placate him and soothe his suspicions. But he can always walk away. Even if he can never go back to the Jedi after this, that doesn't mean he's made any commitment to the Sith. 

"Alright." 

He's tried the Jedi way and failed. Time to try the Sith way. 

"Wise decision. Will you be bringing your ship, or would you like a lift?"

A good question. Bringing his own ship would allow him an easier getaway if necessary, but...

"It isn't my ship." 

Holding on to something of the Jedi, when he's made the decision to give them up, feels wrong. 

"Your choice. If you're worried about them tracking it, I can disable any locator beacons."

"No, I think I'd rather we both take your ship."

(Part of his mind is racing ahead, plotting out contingencies for if the Jedi catch him. Willingly following the Sith in his own ship would be much harder to pass off as an abduction.) 

"I think we'd both rest easier if you checked my communicator for trackers, though," he adds, so she doesn't think he was expressing a lack of confidence in her skills. "I'm not quite so willing to rid myself of that one." 

She nods. "We can do it that way. My tools are on my ship." She waves a hand in a direction, probably the one her ship is located in. "Shall we?"

"Lead the way." 

He might have decided to learn from this Sith, but he's still not quite willing to have her behind him just yet. 

She smirks a little, but does start to lead the way. "What do we call you?"

"We?" he deflects, to give himself a moment to think about his answer. "Is there a third party to this conversation that I should know about?" 

The droid creaks to life at that moment.

The Sith turns slightly to watch him. "Myself, the droid. And I have a few others who work for me, you'll meet them."

"—ah. My apologies for ignoring your companion, then." He nods at the droid in a way that manages to give the impression of a shallow, polite bow. 

"And you can call me Valara, for now." It's as much for himself as anything, a reminder not to drop his guard completely around the Sith. "Might I have names to call the two of you?" 

"Darth Pyktis," she points to herself, then to the droid. "HK-24."

The droid responds to the nod with a nod of its own, and a slight bow.

"A pleasure to meet you both," he says out of habit.

No name for the droid, just a designation. Curious. Or maybe Pyktis doesn't trust him with the name yet, just as he doesn't trust her with his.

"May I ask where we'll be going, once any tracking devices are dealt with?"

"One of my compounds," Pyktis says as she continues on their way. "It's secure."

That's fair.

"And will I be allowed to leave it alive, once I know its location?" he asks, tone light to cover his genuine worry. 

"I think that'll rather depend on whether you make me think you're going to run back to the Jedi."

Wry smile. "I think, at this point, they'll have to chase me down themselves." 

"Then I don't predict a problem. Except for a lack of transport on your part."

Speaking of transport, here's Pyktis' ship - a Corellian freighter from the look of it, not obviously modified.

"I expect that to be a solvable problem, particularly if we part on good terms." 

Nice ship. Less ominous than he might have expected, but he supposes that would hardly be good for stealth. 

"I rather expect it would be, yes."

It continues to be not very ominous, if somewhat stark on the inside. Pyktis leads the way into what appears to be a work room.

"Your communicator," she says. HK-24 appears to have gone in a different direction.

He hands it over, looking around the room with curiosity. He's still not quite turning his back on Pyktis, keeping her in his peripheral vision. 

She sets to work on it.

The room is well stocked, with supplies for a variety of repairs that would need doing around a ship, and a few things that might be personal projects.

After a few minutes, curiosity and boredom combine to set Jerex wandering around the room, not touching anything but peering with interest at the personal projects. 

Pyktis barely appears to be paying him any mind.

The projects vary: a few scale models of different generators or hyperdrives, a half-built blaster, some other weapons, but perhaps tellingly, no further lightsaber designs.

That is interesting, but not surprising given what he's seen of Pyktis' tactics so far. Jerex doesn't have more than a basic knowledge of generator or hyperdrive mechanisms, so he focuses on the weapons, assessing what he can tell of the quality.

They're good quality, despite the fact that some of them do appear to be attempts at amalgamations of different weapons. Assuming that they're functional, they all look, without fail, like they're designed to be deadly.

"I'm done here," Pyktis says, straightening up from her work bench and stretching.

He looks over. "Was our caution warranted?" 

"Yes. There was a tracker. You'd almost think they didn't trust you."

"Well, they weren't exactly wrong." 

He comes over to stand near Pyktis, looking down at her workbench. "Thank you." 

She smiles slightly as she pushes herself to her feet. "You're welcome. And now that that's taken care of, we can get on our way."

"Am I permitted to know our destination, or shall it remain a surprise?" 

"What, don't like surprises?"

"Let's just say the good ones haven't exactly outnumbered the bad, over the years." 

"I suppose that would put you off them."

She'll explain where they're going - quite a way from the galatic core and those pesky Jedis, and not to a system or planet he'll know of.

"Thank you; I appreciate your consideration." 

And now, for the first time in a while, he has nothing to do. No obvious task presents itself. 

"There's a lounge through here," Pyktis says, starting to lead the way. "We should sit down before we take off."

Jerex follows, trying to memorise as much of the ship's layout as he can. It's half habit, half reasonable caution. 

He doesn't get to see very much of it, the lounge is fairly close to where they were previously, but he'll be able to see some of the ship - most of the doors are firmly closed.

The lounge itself is comfortable enough, two long couches, and a pair of chairs that are set on either side of what looks like a Dejarik board. There's a handful of consoles around the room, some with seats, some without, and it's his guess whether or not he'll be able to access any of them.

He gestures towards the Dejarik board. "Do you play?" 

"I've dabbled on occasion," she says with a slight nod. "Yourself?"

"Oh, when I have the time. Shall we?" 

"It's as good a way to pass time as any," Pyktis agrees, taking one of the seats and gesturing to the one opposite her.

He takes the indicated seat, and the game begins. 

Jerex is a somewhat more experienced player than his words might suggest, but he has a feeling Pyktis was similarly understating her skill. 

It does rather appear that she was, yes. And if the slight smile on her face is anything to go by, she was expecting Jerex to have understated his own ability.

While they're playing, the ship will take off, and shortly thereafter, enter hyperspace.

Jerex has been travelling the galaxy since he was thirteen; he's familiar enough with the sensation of space travel that it doesn't distract him from the most interesting game of Dejarik he's played in years. 

It is interesting! Pyktis seems quite invested in it, and her tactics are interesting - a strange mix of cat-and-mouse and outright assault.

Jerex's playstyle is deliberate, patient. He's playing for the long game, not the immediate victories. 

...this does, however, mean that he loses a fair number of the immediate victories. 

Pyktis is fascinated to see where this leads!

She might gain the immediate victories, and she definitely steps into some of the traps he's laying out - normally with a plan for how to get out of them - but she is not quite the kind for that kind of long game. It'll be a close run thing, but there's a reasonable chance that Jerex will in fact win.

Jerex normally has a better poker face than this, but he catches himself grinning when Pyktis makes exactly the move he was hoping she would. 

She notices that grin - of course she does - and there's a slight smirk on her lips. "Got me right where you want me?"

"Maybe so."

He moves a piece. There's still time for this strategy to fail if Pyktis spots what he's doing, but he's having fun. 

It's hard to tell whether she hasn't noticed, or whether she's just interested in seeing where this is going, but she doesn't make a move to counter his strategy.

Jerex moves another piece, mostly straight-faced. 

And very shortly Pyktis will notice that her next move is a choice between sacrificing one key piece or letting another one be captured, both of which will leave Jerex only two or three moves from winning.

Pyktis considers the board, and then chooses to sacrifice the piece and will play through to the end - win or lose, no-one will ever be able to accuse her of retreating.

Jerex is grinning again as he makes the winning move. 

"That," he says as he sits back in his chair, "is the most fun I've had in at least a year."

"I am glad I could provide that. I'd hate to be boring."

Considers the board. "Very well played."

"Thank you. You have an interesting playstyle; it's not one I've encountered before." 

"I make a point of ensuring that my play style isn't anything people might be inclined to teach. It works out rather well."

"Yes, I imagine it would. I might have to steal a few of your tricks, another time; it's quite disarming as a strategy."

"I guess I have another game to look forward to in the future." Pauses, and gives a slightly wicked smirk. "Don't expect me to fall into that trap again."

He returns her grin, squashing down the laughter bubbling up inside him. 

"Oh, I'm counting on that." He has a feeling their rematch is going to be even more enjoyable than the game they just played—especially if he loses.