History speaks of the origin of the Clone Wars on Geonosis, and the first major clash between the Jedi and the Sith. The Colosseum draws inspiration from the fabled Petranaki arena, certainly, but was built with a more contemporary audience in mind. Located on the planet that serves as the new seat of the Brotherhood's central power, Arx, the structure was rebuilt and renovated from the shell of an ancient foundation that had barely weathered away against the planet's ever-changing climate.

High walls, tall enough for even the most savvy Jedi to find unscalable, line a large field of ancient sand and sediment the size of a holoball field. The spectators' chairs are divided into neatly organized sections with seats bunched close together to accommodate anywhere up to a few thousand people. At the center, an elongated platform “box” has been constructed with a central throne of stone with various seats of smaller scale lined beside it in both directions.

Two large holo-projection screens are set up on each side of the Colosseum, offering different angles of the fight via Holocam Drones.

While unassuming at first glance and looking very much like an archaic gladiatorial arena, the Colosseum features a medley of traps and surprises built into the floor and walls at random intervals. These obstacles include, but are hardly limited to: retractable nozzles that can shoot out gouts of flame; battery-coils that can spit out tendrils of electric current; receding floor panels with electric shock panels; deep pits with sharpened spikes and more. At some points, the ground can simply erupt upwards and create a concentrated, if not impromptu angular-platform that could be used as a springboard or temporary high ground. While seemingly random, these obstacles are handled and triggered by a sentient operator in a control room within.

You and another member of the Brotherhood have been set against each other in the arena. You may be fighting a dispute between your clans, for the honor of you superiors or friends, or for a personal slight done to you by your foe. What is certain is that the battle is to the death, before the roaring crowd of Arx.

Almost as important as defeating your opponent is playing to the crowd. In the Colosseum, not even the Grand Master can overturn the verdict of the mob. Should the tables turn on you, you may find yourself spared by the crowd for your performance. Overshadow your opponent enough, and you may seal their fate once and for all.

The Arx sun beat down on the sandy arena, causing an already hot day to reach a swelter. Surrounding the walled pit, the bleachers were filled with a crowd of Arx locals and Arconan observers.

Even further above that, the honored viewing box was bustling with servants waiting upon a trio of very distinct women. The Shadow Lady of Arcona sat with her Qel-Droman advisors, the leaders of the House, sipping chilled wine and watching as two figures arrived in the arena below

The two men who walked in from opposing ends of the battleground were similar yet different in appearance. Both had broad shoulders, rippling muscles, and a distinct lack of coverings, much to the delight of some of the audience. Both had been suitably prepared for the contest of strength and skill by the attendants of the arena, muscles glistening from an oil coating.

A crackling sound filled the stadium, the intercoms coming to life.

“Welcome, ladies, gentlemen, and aliens of various non-binary genders! The Arx Arena presents a clash of titans today, a muscular murder fest, a test of strength, of skill, of oily musculature! At one end, we have the Iron Headed Captain Karran Val’teo, master of the Voidbreaker and Knight of Arcona! Standing at a respectable one point eight six meters, and weighing in at an even one hundred and eight kilos, Captain Karran is a force to be reckoned with!”

The Zabrak raised his head stoically to the crowd, his single weapon, a lightsaber hilt, in his hand. He bowed towards the box containing his summit, his eyes focusing on his former shipmate, now Aedile, Alaisy briefly. His gaze swept the stands, picking out a clustered group that comprised his crew, his fellow Zabrak, Sera, leading the cheers from that section. He took a deep breath. A lot of people who either relied on him or were commanding him were watching him today. Karran turned, shoulders set, and stretched his neck, focusing brown eyes on the towering blue figure across from him.

“And facing him today, the most Honorable Stres’tron’garmis, try saying that name five times quick, folks! General Garmis stands at an impressive two-point two meters and weighs in at one hundred and forty-six kilos! This towering Chiss sports the pectorals of an absolute beast!”

The Chiss raised both arms into the sky, turning slowly as he took in the crowd, until he faced the VIP box himself, and bowed lowly.

“I dedicate this battle to you, my lady, and shall honor you with victory!” bellowed the big man.

“Really?” asked Karran, as they paced towards one another. “Not very specific there, Strong.”

The Chiss gave him a toothy grin, white teeth gleaming in the sunshine.

“If the former Shadow Lord, my master Bleu, taught me anything, young Karran, it is to ‘cover your bets.’”

Karran shook his head even as he bowed towards the big man. This sort of behavior, the way the Chiss came aboard his vessel under the pretense of the Clan training officer and flirted with half his crew was one of the reasons why the Sith had agreed to this fight. The cavalier behavior of this officer, a man given the rank of General in the Arconan military, was unacceptable. If it weren’t for the way the female crewmembers responded and seemed to regard the man, Karran would call it frakking dishonorable.

“Are you done posturing, General? Can we begin?” he asked, his voice neutral in tone even as his grip tightened on the saber hilt.

”My good Captain, this,” Strong lifted both arms up again and slowly turned to take in the crowd, ”is not just a battle between us! This is a question of showmanship! We have been asked to entertain, to delight, and to impress!”

When the Chiss lowered his arms, he grasped the handles of both halves of his electro-staff, the chromium-plated weapons gleaming almost as brightly as the pair’s muscles did in the midday sun. He brought the base of both halves together, the coupler clicking into place and the twin ends of the staff crackling to life. Across from him, Karran thumbed a switch and a crimson blade snapped into being, the ominous buzzing sound almost lost to the noise of the crowd.

The audience was growing in volume as violence seemed imminent; they were ready to get their ticket’s worth of blood. Karran paced towards the Chiss, his steps light in the sand, not with hesitation or caution, but with intent to spring into action. Strong simply spun his staff about, as if testing the weight, his stance spreading almost as much as his smile as he brought the weapon back behind him, gripped in one hand and braced against his forearm. To the Zabrak he looked almost distracted, as if his focus was split, glowing eyes shifting past his opponent from time to time.

What? Another pretty girl catch his gaze? thought the Captain, dismissively. He lunged forward the last bit of distance, his red saber leading the way. Strong spun his staff out from its resting position to bat the strike away, allowing Karran to recover rather than following up. He reset his stance, smiling down at the horned man. What the hell is he playing at? He should have counter-attacked.

A murmur from the crowd arose from the lack of action, stamping of feet from the cheap seats filling the air. If anything, the Chiss’s smile widened further, as he began to pace sideways to circle his Sith opponent. Karran responded in kind, the two slowly circling, seeking an opening. The Captain noticed a flicker in the General’s eye and saw the man flex most of his upper body muscles before charging. It was an impressive display, and the reaction from the crowd was...distracting, a cacophony of high pitched cheers.

The Chiss swung his staff out, the pulse generator whining as it spun and connected with Karran’s guard. A grunt was drawn from the Knight as he felt the physical power behind the blow, his feet shifting back a few inches in the sand. He expected a follow-up, but Strong simply kept applying his weight to the strike, arms bulging as he continued to press the Sith.

“What the hell are you doing?” hissed Karran, focusing inwards with the Force, drawing in power. The response he got was simply a chuckle and the sliding of red, glowing eyes to the left. The Sith couldn’t help himself, even as he prepared to counter-attack; he glanced to the side and nearly lost focus. One of the massive holo-screens displaying the fight was showing the Chiss’s corded arms pressing in, and a smaller section of the screen was showing a replay of the big man flexing before his attack. “Are you serious—” started the Zabrak, before pressure suddenly let off his guard, and a warning from the Force shot down his spine.

It wasn’t quite enough, though. He couldn’t be sure if Strong was being cunning, an unlikely scenario, or if he’d just been caught flat-footed by the realization that his opponent was more interested in playing to the crowd than fighting properly. Either way, the big blue hand that suddenly reached past their clash, balled into a fist similar in size to his skull, impacted on the Zabrak’s chest with solid force. The Sith fell back from the strike, trying to compensate and lessen the blow, even as his body reacted to the hit. Air rushed out, the fist having struck him in the sternum, and pain radiated out across his chest. Karran didn’t lose his footing, but it was a near thing, and he glared across at Strong.

Is he...showboating!? thought the Zabrak, his eyes turned first to the crowd where his crew sat, and then back up to one of the holo-displays. It was focused on a set of blue abs, shining in the sun and rippling with each movement of the Chiss. You cannot be real, you are not right in the head, Garmis.

The Arconan General was spinning his staff again and turning in a slow circle, fist in the air, before thumping it against his chest. The crowd cheered, and the Sith thought he saw a few articles of clothing getting tossed into the sandy arena. Karran grit his teeth and lashed out with the Force, a crackle of energy exploding from his free hand. The blue-skinned man shouted in pain as the lightning coursed over his back, bringing him to one knee. Karran panted, catching his breath as the burst ended and waited for his foe to stand. A follow-up strike, a decisive end, would have been wiser he knew. But the Chiss was right, this was the arena, and the crowd was invested.

I can give them a show, too, Garmis, thought the Zabrak with a glower.

The crowd was divided, it seemed; some adored the display of power from the Zabrak, others considered it a cheap shot. A chorus of cheers and boos came from the surrounding seating.

The Force warned him of incoming danger from the left, but his singular focus on his opponent distracted him from defending himself as an overly ripe fruit struck Karran in the head. The red skin of the food gave way as the interior juices splattered across his horns, face, and chest. His head snapped up with a snarl to look in the direction from which it had come. He scanned the crowd, but found it too densely packed with audience members booing and directing rude gestures to pick out exactly which one had assaulted him.

Very well. I will play the villain in this little performance.

Karran opened his arms to the crowd, as if presenting himself to them as he paced the center of the arena and drank in their powerful emotions. He closed his eyes and smiled as he felt the mixed hate and adoration flow over him. Perhaps the Chiss had a point behind his incessant posturing. As he stood with his eyes closed, he felt another warning in the Force from behind him. This one he could prepare for.

Strong had looked up from his kneeling position to see the Zabrak playing to the crowd. It seemed the boy was getting the hang of it. He stood and readied himself to attack. The Chiss charged and swung his electrostaff wide, as one would swing a bat, easy to block or dodge, but a good show.

Karran ducked under the swing and activated his lightsaber again as he sidestepped and Strong rushed past him. He dragged his foot in a wide arc in the sand, throwing up a small cloud of the stuff as he struck a pose for the crowd. The Zabrak then took the initiative to rush his larger opponent before leaping into the air to bring down a mighty strike

The crowd shouted to the Chiss to warn him of the approaching threat, but he knew. It was all a show after all. He turned to face the charging Zabrak and parried the crimson saber away before following up with a strike to Karran’s now-exposed ribs with the staff’s opposite end. The Chiss pushed through the Zabrak’s body with all of his might and sent him skidding through the sand.

Karran was thankful for the tingling numbness that spread through his body. If not for that, the tumble through the abrasive dirt on the floor of the arena likely would have been much more painful. The Zabrak stayed where he had finally come to rest for a moment before pushing himself up from the ground. The sand dug into the small abrasions it had left in his skin. The leather armour he had been outfitted with did little to protect his body. In truth, it simply trapped sand against his skin. It was rough. It was coarse. It got everywhere.

As the Zabrak stood, he wiped the sand away. He grit his teeth and stretched as he paced back and forth. Blood slowly pooled up out of the now red, irritated wounds that spanned his torso before the crimson liquid started to glide down his chest along the slick oil that coated his skin.