Elevated over a ravine, the Massassi Arena has withstood the tests of time. It is arranged in a circular formation and made by a slab of stone that connects the opposite slopes of the ravine. On its eastern side, the floating arena leads to a staircase and into a near-vertical cliff face. Because of its nearly unsupported vantage that overlooks a several hundred-meter fall, even the smallest creatures can feel the occasional motion the platform makes as the breeze brushes across its cold surface.

Adding to the adrenaline rush of standing within the slab’s concentric patterns carved into the rock, barriers and obstacles echo the Massassi’s commitment to taking every advantage over their opponents. Pillars ring the outer edge without guardrails linking them, some remaining intact and others having toppled into the arena or over the perilous heights to the ground far below. Weeds and other flora cover each surface as nature seeks to reclaim the ravine and eventually send the arena itself to the depths.

A creaky rope-bridge leads away towards another ancient suspended platform with the same weathered, upturned stones. Mossy footing, and uneven ground make each of these platforms unique in small subtle ways. While there is no seating for formal spectators, the ancient stones of the Massassi Arena hold an omniscient, aged wisdom that speak to the things they have seen and the battles fought through history.

A third rope-bridge leads to yet another platform, completing the triad of battlegrounds that make up the Massassi Arena.

The sun beat down on the ancient Massassi arena. Luckily for TuQ’uan his hat offered some reprieve from the heat as he searched through the ruins on the cliff where the ravine forked and the floating platforms connected. He was hoping to find something of value to bring back to one of the more historically minded members of the Brotherhood, for a price of course.

The mercenary approached the edge of the ruins where the trees met the stone; it felt like something was drawing him in here. His feet continued to carry him forward, almost in a daze.

Well this looks valuable, the Plagueian thought as he reached down and pulled a dagger from the trunk of a tree. The handle was ornate, letters of an ancient language carved into it, and the steel stained with long since dried blood. He turned and started back the way he came. A twig snapped beneath his foot stopping him dead.

A large Clawdite had been examining carvings on the walls of the ruins. The two explorers stared at each other from across the ruins, the Clawdite framed by a hole in the stone walls.

Tyraal Bitshiver looked at the dagger in the Kel Dor’s hands.

“Hey! What are you doing with that?” he cried out, catching TuQ’uan off guard.

“Uhh, I'm giving it a good home?”

“No, something that dangerous should be kept in a holo-museum.” Bitshiver put his hand out as if the ask TuQ’uan for the for the dagger. The Kel Dor simply cocked his head to the side in confusion; nobody was going to take his prize away that easily. He gave the handle a squeeze and slipped it into his jacket pocket, reluctant to let go.

“It’s coming with me, sorry.”

The Odanite didn’t seem to like that answer.

Tyraal began moving around the wall between them.

“Hey Peek, what are my odds here?” TuQ’uan whispered into his comlink. “You know what, don’t tell me the odds, just start a betting pool on the holonet.”

He slipped his blaster from it’s holster on his thigh.

“You already have?!” the mercenary shouted a little too loudly.

TuQ’uan didn’t have time to get distracted, he had lost sight of his opponent and wasn’t entirely sure where he was coming from. The Plagueian heard a footstep off to the left and swiveled with his blaster at the ready, but was suddenly struck in the back of the head causing him to stumble forward.

Where the frak did that come from?! Glancing around he found a large rock laying on the ground with fresh blood on it. He scanned the area looking for his attacker.

“Seriously?!” he cried. Damn Force users and their dirty tricks. TuQ’uan took a deep breath and cleared his head, listening closely for his opponent.

The distinct snap-hiss of a lightsaber igniting brought his attention back to the ruins on his left. Tyraal stood there with his yellow lightsaber in a defensive position. The mercenary felt something off here, normally his opponent would try to rush him. This one was doing the opposite, he was approaching slowly, cautiously.

TuQ’uan wasn’t one to waste an opportunity and let loose a volley of plasma. Tyraal seemed ready for this and stepped to the side a mere moment before the mercenary actually pulled the trigger.

Tyraal drew his blaster with his empty hand and fired back. Surprised, the Kel Dor took a glancing blow to his leg before thinking to move. He let out a gasp of pain causing the Plagueian to send a stray bolt off into the distance.

With his opponent off to his left and the forest behind him, TuQ’uan decided advancing into the Massassi arena left him with the most escape options.

Giving himself some cover fire, the mercenary dashed backwards and made his way towards the mossy platform limping slightly on his fresh wound. He was unwilling to let the pursuing Clawdite out of his sight again.

The Kel Dor reached the top of the stairs leading down into the arena, as he took one more step backwards the top step crumbled, leaving nothing but air where the stone once was. TuQ’uan’s foot continued to fall onto the awkward, jagged edge, sending him tumbling backwards down the steps. The dagger fell from his pocket, bouncing down the stairs. In a quick decision, the mercenary tried to drop his blaster and reach for the dagger, but before he could do so his body struck the ground.

Tyraal lunged as the Kel Dor crashed to the floor of the arena. He vaulted the stairs, flipping neatly through the air, reaching out with the Force, and snatching the dagger away as TuQ’uan reached for it. He landed, and turned to the mercenary.

“Quaint.” He muttered. “You should get those injuries checked out.”

“I’ll get mine looked at,” the Plaugeian assured him. “You’ll need a bacta tank.”

He groaned, rolling onto his back and bouncing onto his feet.

“If they find your corpse.”

The Kel Dor kicked his blaster into the air, caught it, and loosed a volley in Tyraal’s general direction, spreading his fire in a line, opposed to a central target: last time, the Clawdite leaned away. Tyraal deflected two bolts in his immediate line of contact.

“We don’t have to do this,” called the Knight.

“True. You could hand me back my dagger, and we’ll call it a day.”

“Ah, ah, ah: no.”

“Then I guess we have to do this!”

TuQ’uan pulled off another few shots and charged the Jedi. Tyraal ducked, seemingly a bit confused at the mercenary’s bizarre battle tactics. Taking advantage, TuQ’uan slipped out his stiletto and sent it twirling towards his opponent. Tyraal felt the flicker in the Force, and leaned away; the reaction saved his life. He kept spinning, catching the blade, and sending it right back at TuQ’uan. The mercenary ducked, and the blade sailed to an abrupt halt in his massive hat, hovering millimeters above the Kel Dor’s head.

TuQ’uan’s already red face seemed to darken.

“Damn…. You….” He growled. Tyraal cocked an eyebrow, stepping a few steps back. “Not…. My…. Hat….!”

He rushed Tyraal with an unexpected speed, drawing his vibro-knife, and slashing at him. Tyraal blocked the attack, and the knife shattered on impact with the yellow blade. A shard cut across Tyraal’s left arm, but before he could react to the pain or give a snarky reply to TuQ’uan’s attack, the Kel Dor planted his shoulder in Tyraal’s chest.

With a hefty “oof!”, the Clawdite stumbled backward under TuQ’uan’s holoball rush. The lightsaber dropped from startled fingers, thumping to the arena floor and extinguishing with a rebellious crackle. The Plagueian pushed his opponent further and further back; eventually the Odanite managed to plant his feet and halt the rush, but TuQ’uan smacked him across the face with the hilt of the lodged stiletto, and punched him in the chest. Tyraal’s footing failed, and he stumbled over the edge of the floating arena. At the last second, he caught the very lip of the edge, feeling unrestrained rush around him. Above him, TuQ’uan was almost religiously removing the stiletto, with the gentleness and caution of a doctor performing surgery on his child.

He turned, snarling to look at Tyraal, dangling over the side, and found nothing. He leaned over the edge, peering down the fall, and saw nothing of the Force-hidden Clawdite dangling mere inches away from his boot. The Kel Dor grimaced with pleasure at besting the Odanite, and spat after him. With a luck immediately attributed to the hat, he spit on Tyraal’s shoulder. TuQ’uan laughed, then frowned, then stared in horror. He drew his twin-bladed knife in a flash, but Tyraal had already yanked himself up, meeting the Kel Dor with a firm uppercut.

TuQ’uan stumbled back, and growled. He stabbed at Tyraal, missed, and received a heavy kick on his already injured leg from the Odanite. He groaned, but before he could react, Tyraal reached down, down, down through the roots of the arena, and called on the Force, blasting the mercenary back, landing him on his back on the rope stairway. Tyraal strode towards him, and anyone watching would have immediately called to Peek and laid their credits on Tyraal’s victory.

TuQ’uan seemed to sense it too, sitting up, and staring down his enemy. Tyraal hesitated for a split-second, and then lashed out with a barrage of lightning. But! TuQ’uan was ready! As the lightning streaked forward, the Kel Dor drew an ancient-looking sword. He parried the lightning, and to the untrained eye, it seemed desperation: surely the lightning would shatter another vibro-blade. But this was a Sith Sword; it caught the lightning. Tyraal backpedaled.

TuQ’aun leapt to his feet and charged him. Tyraal reached to the side, recalling his lightsaber to him with the Force. It bounced, and whizzed through the air, igniting as it swept into his hand. The two blades met with a heavy force, and they clashed.

TuQ’uan swung wildly, his Sith sword cutting through the air with little to no finesse. Tyraal easily parried every swing but this failed to deter his attacker. The Kel Dor poured his anger into his attack, he had to get that dagger back. Hell, he didn't even want to sell it anymore. It was calling to him, had chosen him, and TuQ’uan wasn't going to let anyone take that away from him. Especially not this smug Force user.

The Kel Dor kept up his onslaught of attacks as the Clawdite swiftly pushed them aside. Tyraal seemed to be biding his time, waiting for an opportunity that finally came when TuQ’uan, with both hands tightly gripping the handle of his sword, swung straight down in an attempt to cleave his opponent in two. Sparks flew as the Jedi blocked the attack.

Suddenly, the Kel Dor’s world went dark. No matter which way he looked, he saw only blackness. The wild attacks became even more desperate, TuQ’uan swung his sword around, searching for his opponent with its blade. Tyraal had stolen from him and damaged his hat and would pay for both.

The darkness surrounding the mercenary began to dissipate and, much to TuQ’uan’s surprise, Bitshiver was no longer in front of him. Before he had a chance to look for his quarry a hand clasped the Plagueian on the shoulder. Confused, he half turned when he suddenly felt a rush of electricity coursing through his body. Letting out a cry of pain, the Kel Dor was driven to his knees, his Sith sword fell clattering on the ground. It took every fibre of the mercenary’s being to fight the losing battle to stay composed.

It became too much for TuQ’uan and he collapsed panting to the ground, the smell of burning cloth and flesh refused to be filtered out by his antiox mask. Finally the pain let up as he laid sprawled out on his stomach.

“Please, just stop this,” Tyraal pleaded with his clearly wounded opponent.

TuQ’uan made an attempt to pick himself up and failed.

“It’s over, just stay down.”

The mercenary made another attempt at getting up, this time he almost made it but fell again.

The Clawdite stood over his downed opponent, a look of pity on his face.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

Tyraal’s head spun around to see that the Kel Dor had tossed a sonic grenade. The Odanite dove away from the grenade and towards the edge of the platform.

The grenade went off while Bitshiver was still airborne. He landed with a thud, his ears ringing enough to keep him disoriented. TuQ’uan removed the hands he had pressed up against his ears. It wasn't perfect but it had helped protect him from the worst of the grenades effects. The Kel Dor groaned and got to his feet, he staggered over to the Clawdite writhing in pain.

Crouching down, TuQ’uan reached for the ancient dagger tucked into Tyraal’s belt. He stood tall, proud, the dagger was finally his and there was nothing that pesky Jedi could do about it. The mercenary was so entranced by the dagger that he hadn't noticed Tyraal getting back on his feet.

The Clawdite grabbed at the handle of the dagger in an attempt to wrestle it free.

“Let go!” TuQ’uan screamed.

“It's for your own good!”

“Frak you!”

As the two struggled back and forth over the ancient dagger Tyraal threw an uppercut directly into TuQ’uan’s stomach, causing the mercenary to release his grip on his prize. The dagger went flying across the arena as he suddenly let go, right over the edge and into the ravine below.

“No!” the Kel Dor cried. He wouldn't let it end like this.

Slow to start, TuQ’uan ran as fast as his injuries allow him. He intended to get that dagger back one way or another. Tyraal quickly realized the mercenary’s plan and pulled the Force into him, allowing it to surround him and strengthen him. Flexing the muscles in his legs, the Clawdite took off at a sprint, desperate to catch his opponent.

As TuQ’uan jumped into the air to launch himself into the ravine, Bitshiver grabbed him around the waist and tackled him, pulling him to the ground. The two enemies came to a stop mere inches from the edge, they had both nearly taken a dive neither would have survived.

They both laid on the ground exhausted and out of breath. TuQ’uan’s head was finally starting to clear.

“Thanks.”

TuQ’uan pressed against the Clawdite, swinging a heavy strike against Tyraal’s side. Tyraal blocked the attack, but stumbled backward as the Plagueian body-checked him. Tyraal landed on his back, and hastily rolled backward, avoiding the heavy crashs of the Kel Dor’s attacks. He started to swipe at TuQ’uan’s feet, but the Plagueian kicked the lightsaber out of his hands, and kicked the Odanite’s side.

Tyraal groaned as the steel-toed boots bashed his ribs. He was launched backward, tumbling across the duracreet flooring of the arena. He gasped, saw the edge coming, and threw himself over, flipping across the gap and landing on the adjacent platform. He came to a stop against a pillar, and looked back. TuQ’uan was already sprinting towards the rope bridge binding the platforms together. Tyraal rolled to the other side of the pillar and drew his [blaster]. As TuQ’uan lunged around the side, Tyraal vaulted around the corner, blasting at the bridge the mercenary was halfway across. One rope snapped, and he entire bridge shifted heavily.

TuQ’uan froze, hesitated for a half-second, and then turned back to the main arena, rushing for solid ground. Tyraal took a few more shots, one evaporated against the Sith blade the Kel Dor was holding, one grazed the Kel Dor’s knee, the same leg as had been shot before. The mercenary loosed a string of swears, which increased exponentially as Tyraal hit one of the ropes on the far side. The entire bridge dropped to the side as the two supports on the right side dropped.

Tyraal exhaled slowly, and then began sprinting towards the bridge; he vaulted, passing over TuQ’uan’s head. He landed on the platform, and felt a disturbance in the Force. He started to turn around, and the disturbance grew into a full blown tsunami. His eyes widened, seeing the Sith sword spinning through the air towards him. He tilted away, calling on the Force and thrusting the blade away; it clattered harmlessly on the floor of the platform.

Harmless the Sith blade was, yes, but that was not all that the Kel Dor threw at him. A stiletto lodged in his shoulder, slicing clean through to knock against his shoulder blade. Tyraal gasped at the shock of pain, swore briefly at the realization of pain that would come, and then groaned as his arm erupted in fiery pain.

“Damn,” spat the Odanite. “Good shot.”

He reached to the side and recalled his lightsaber to him with the Force. It rocketted to his hand. The Kel Dor was nearly at the platform now, but Tyraal still had to address the knife, sticking more in his shoulder than out of it. He ground his teeth, and ripped it out of his shoulder. It came with a scream of pain from the Clawdite. His greyish-red blood stained the blade, and more dripped thickly from the new hole in his shoulder.

TuQ’uan crawled onto the platform, and rushed at Tyraal, stumbling slightly as a blast of wind rattled the platform. The two of them collided, unexpectedly, as the arena shifted to the side. They grappled, bouncing along the quaking platform of the Massassi. They tumbled around, the Plagueian managing to headlock Tyraal. And that probably would’ve been the end, had they not suddenly dropped off the side of the platform. Tyraal reached up with his uninjured left arm, and caught a groove. The twosome dangled from Tyraal’s arm, reality going dark rather quickly, now that TuQ’uan had his weight pulling on Tyraal’s neck.

“If you want to live!” Hissed Tyraal, desperate against the lack of oxygen. “You have to let go of me!”

TuQ’uan, after about four seconds, obliged, by releasing the Clawdite and clinging to the platform.

“Only because you’ll kill me with your drop,”

“Make your excuses if you want, I will say again, we don’t have to be fighting.”

“You plan on returning the knife to me then?”

“You and your damned knife!”

The platform shifted around, and the twosome scrambled onto the platform. TuQ’uan immediately swung around and clipped Tyraal on the shoulder. The Clawdite gasped, falling onto his back. TuQ’uan picked up a foot to shove Tyraal off the edge, but was met with a barrage of white-blue Force lightning to his face. He screamed, and was physically launched back several meters, and lay there quietly crackling. After a minute, Tyraal rose, massaged his shoulder, and walked away. He caught the knife with the Force and vaulted away, leaving TuQ’uan’s smouldering body on the platform.