Two towering, tinted, transparisteel doors slide open to grant you access to the central chamber of the Combat Training Halls. The main room is wide and open and as large as as a holoball field. Tall walls stretch towards a domed ceiling that is made up of rows of ambient lights that spread out and fill the room with soft even lighting that eliminates any shades or shadows. Those same walls are lined around the perimeter with racks and stacks of varied weaponry: everything from swords and polearms to rifles and flamethrowers.

There are two signs that hover over each weapon rack to create an alternating motif in the Combat Training Hall: “No Explosions” and “Accorded Neutral Territory”. While the first is fairly obvious, the second speaks to the single law of the Training Halls: all members of the Brotherhood are welcome, and no member is to be killed or maimed without incurring the wrath of the Grand Master and the Inquisitorius.

A trio of training dummies are statically set up and spread out in a line, each made out of a blend of alloys and padding that can withstand blows from any standard weaponry with the exception of lightsaber blades. To the side of the dummies, a large sparring mat has been stretched out to create a larger footprint than the typical shockboxing ring. The padding is good for helping teach new combat students how to take a fall without injury and offers firm footing, but the hard rubber mat is hardly forgiving.

Behind the sparring area is a door that leads to a small archives that combat students can use to view holorecordings of fights and duels from the past as well as relevant information on combat tactics, techniques, and forms. On the opposite side of the archives at the far end of central room is the locker room that members can safely store their equipment.

The final and probably most important element of the Combat Training Hall is the onsite Med Ward. The maglock door is sealed off and can only be opened by an attending Medic. The Medical facilities feature state of the art bacta tanks for recovery and aftercare. A combination of observation and waiting room rests adjacent to the recovery center and features two large monitors that display a live feed of the central room.

The Combat Halls are staffed around the clock, allowing combat students and mentors alike to come and go as they please at odd or regular hours. It also available for members looking to prove their worth to compete in the Antei Combat Center.

[Venue Note: Weapons incorporated into your match are allowed to be used, even if not listed on your Loadout for the match itself. Skill usage and all other ACC rules and guidelines still applies.]

The doors slid open with a hiss, as Hevan Slavis walked into the arena, throwing his bag onto a empty bench while walking towards the weapon racks, sticking a hand out as his droid crawled along it before flying onto the bench and powering down. He looked over the racks, picking up a vibrosword and spinning it in his hand. As he browsed through the various weapons, a hiss from behind caused him to turn his head to the door automatically, as Bril Teg Arga walked into the hall.

"Morning - Slavis is it?" The Zabrak casually asked as he walked on the mat.

"Who's asking? But yes, Hevan Slavis." Hevan responded, not looking over at Bril, more focused on the weapons in his hand.

"Bril Teg Arga for your infomation." Bril turned to the dummies, flicking out his wristblade and swinging it at the targets.

An uncomfortable silence formed, both not wishing to be the one to break it, the only noises in the massive hall was the swish of Bril's blade and the movement of his feet over the mat.

"While we're here- we might as well train together." The zabrak broke the silence after it became near unbearable.

"True-might as well." The human responded after a while, pulling a dagger with sheath from the wall and putting it back after looking at the blade, then stepping onto the mat.

The pair walked to opposing ends of the mat, as Bril looked towards a small observation deck above the door, raising his hand and nodding at someone barely visible in the glass. As he lowered his hand, a loud ringing filled the room, before stopping suddenly as the two began to circle the edge of the mat. In an instant, Bril charged at Hevan, is lightsaber igniting as he slashed at the human. Hevan lifted his blade upwards, blocking as he dodged around the Zabrak's blade, before rolling under the zabrak's arm and blade, turning on the floor and shooting at his opponent. The zabrak was held back by the blue circles, blocking and falling back to one of the weapon racks, towards one of the energy shields that lined the edges of the racks. Hevan stopped shooting once the zabrak energized the shield, advancing upon the human. Hevan's mind raced to think of a solution, preferring not to fight in hand to hand combat, his eyes darting back and forth between the racks and his opponent, cautiously moving back, his blade swinging in front of him in a defensive stance. He spotted what he was looking for, an Ion grenade inside of a open crate. He activated his flamethrower, causing the zabrak to crouch down and hold the shield to protect from the torrent of flames. With one hand, Hevan grabbed the grenade and threw it at the Bril, then grabbing a vibrostaff and brandishing it at the stunned zabrak. He walked towards his fallen opponent, stabbing him with the staff from behind as the zabrak tried to get up, causing the zabrak to yell in anger, as he turned over and saw the human standing over him, before he kicked the human's leg and punched him in the face as Hevan fell.

Hevan was launched backwards by the power behind the amplified punch, flying in the air before crumpling upon landing. The zabrak jumped at him, Hevan being pinned to the ground and beaten in the face, his hands desperately pushing backwards against his assailant, to no avail. Bril's fists hit him again and again, Hevan spitting out blood in the gaps between the blows, not feeling the pain yet, knowing his nose was broken. His vision began to blur as he saw the zabrak slam his fists into his face, but he was just able to lift his hand and let a shockingly bright light fill the room, causing the zabrak to fall back and scream something that no-one would ever hear. Hevan, being prepared, was able to stand up, his ears still ringing as he pulled his pistol out and shooting the defenseless zabrak with a blue circle, causing him to drop, but still barely awake. Hevan lifted his head by the horns, pulling it so he could look into his eyes, tears of streaming from his still blinded eyes. He let the head drop, turning away from the stunned zabrak and whistling at his droid, to which it's red eye activated, hovering towards it's master. Hevan muttered something to it, causing it to turn and fly into the medical bay, returning with a small canister that it sprayed into the Bril's eyes, causing him to shake his head and pick himself up.

Hevan stared at him, before the zabrak charged at Hevan, the human throwing himself aside from the charging animalistic zabrak, both of them exhausted and bleeding. As Hevan tried to get up, he was kicked back down and slashed across the arm and hand, thin cuts appearing across his palm, a he was attacked once again by Bril. Not wishing to be beaten unconscious, Hevan activated his flamethrower, pushing the zabrak back as his clothes and hair began to burn. The zabrak dropped to the ground, rolling on the ground to stop the fire from scarring him. He pulled himself back up, as he patted out the fires that covered his robes.

"Do you have the slightest idea how much these robes cost me?" Hevan's desperate use of his flame projector was enough evidence Bril needed to know that he didn't. "These are based on authentic designs from the High Rep--" he cut himself short, knowing there was no sense in trying to convince the man of the severity of his transgression. Instead, the zabrak knight closed his eyes and took a slow, full breath while briefly directing his awareness to the injuries he'd sustained thus far. Minor burns and a bruise from where Hevan struck with the vibrostaff healed without issue. As he tossed the shield to the side and fastened his saber hilt to his belt, Bril never took his eyes off the man across from him.

"You're resourceful, making good use of your surroundings," he admitted, although his granitic stare told a different story regarding his opinion of his Tyranus counterpart. "But you're going to have to do better than this. We're clanmates. Should we find ourselves on a mission together in the future, I don't want to be worried about you being able to pull your weight. Understand?"

Hevan scoffed, using his sleeve to wipe blood away from his mouth and nose. "If we end up on a mission together, then you're not going to see me. Neither will our enemies until it's too late," he said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, I believe that." Bril shook his head and began toward the training center's exit. "And you're TuQ'uan's apprentice, right? I couldn't tell."

Only upon hearing the other Plagueian's voice cutting through the silence of the room did he stop, though he didn't turn to look at him. "You think that just because you've had some success in the field lately that you can talk down to me? You're just some stupid kid."

Frustration and disdain oozed from the older man and came through with each word uttered with a biting tone; clearly, he had struck a nerve. "I've seen people like you join Plagueis before. They never last long, for one reason--" His words trailed off, and the sound of Hevan's lightsaber roaring to life filled the silence they left, "--or another."

Performing an about-face, Bril stared at Hevan with an expression that fell somewhere between intrigue and pity, considering his scathing reply. Charged by his own emotions, Hevan's aura in the Force had assumed a noxious character like the smoke born from a raging fire.

"Now, that's more like it," said Bril while igniting his saber.

Three blaster shots in rapid succession slowed the zabrak's approach, but ultimately failed to deter him when they were batted away with little effort. Hevan's blaster work was sloppy and far too inaccurate to have a meaningful impact on his success, but he persisted until a saber thrust aimed at his centerline forced him to parry with his own.

A momentary break in Bril's offense allowed Hevan to begin his own, retaliating with the forceful blows of Djem So to force an opening long enough to land a glancing cut on his opponent's arm. Both combatants were panting by the end of the exchange, but Hevan more so. "You're slipping," Bril noted. How much longer he would last was anyone's guess, but Bril knew he'd outlast him. It was only a matter of time.

Hevan knew he was in trouble, he would not be able to continue this fight without sustaining serious injuries. Bril knew what Hevan's concerns were, thus attacked Hevan remorselessly, who, tired and aching, blocked with increasing delays in his response to Bril's blows. Hevan was getting tired, and Bril knew this, causing the zabrak to increase his attacks power and speed, causing Hevan to eventually have his weapon knocked out his hand, who unholstered his blaster, shooting at his attacker frantically, who effortlessly blocked his shots. Hevan grabbed the zabrak's leg, pulling hard on his leg, Bril being preoccupated with Hevan's shots, causing him to fall backwards and crash onto the mat. Hevan leapt onto him, wrapping his hands around the zabrak's neck before Bril effortlessly broke Hevan's grip, pushing him off of him, but the human rolled backwards, pulling a electrobaton from the wall and throwing it at the zabrak. Hevan did not care which part made contact with Bril, only that it gave him enough time to get a better weapon. Bril grabbed the baton out the air, but the momentary distraction allowed Hevan to pull a pike off the wall and brandish it at the zabrak.

Bril began to circle Hevan, taking care to stay out of the human's reach, Hevan often stabbing forward causing Bril to move back, as the two continued this pattern for a few minutes. Upon a near miss as a result of a late dodge by Bril, he slashed upwards, cutting through the metal pole and chopping the tip off. He attacked Hevan again, Hevan ducking and hitting the zabrak over the back with the broken pole, unexpectedly knocking Bril forward, slamming his head into a bench.

Hevan threw the pole aside, pulling out his lightsaber and igniting the purple blade, advancing on the stunned zabrak. "This seems to be a trend." The zabrak laughed at the events past, but stood up again and ignited his blade. Both once again clashed blades, both fighters visibly tired of the fight, before Bril kicked Hevan's leg, pushed him onto the ground, and leapt on him. Drawing his blade, Bril placed it on Hevan's neck "Yield."

"Look down." Hevan responded after some time, to which the zabrak followed Hevan's gaze, seeing a blaster hovering just off of his skin, Hevan's finger on the trigger. Both fighters slowly lowered their weapons, knowing that both would have died if either had attacked first. The pair helped each other up, both with hands on their weapons, before backing away from each other. As Hevan walked through the doorway into the medical bay, he heard a click from behind. "Sorry Hevan, nothing personal you know?" Hevan wheeled around just in time to see Bril, standing with a pistol in hand, fire at him. Hevan dropped to the ground as the blue rings hit him, just able to see Bril walk towards him as he blacked out.

Bril couldn't believe it. Why did Hevan keep retreating? Even with the Dark Side fueling him, the man still looked for opportunities to avoid engaging him directly. "Stand your ground and fight, hunter," he demanded before taking another swing at him with his saber.

Hevan sidestepped the blade just in time, leaving it to hit the ground with a brief flare of amber light and explosion of sparks.

Circling back to where the weapon racks were, Hevan snatched a bundle of throwing knives from the wall and chucked them in Bril's direction. Three of the five met a quick end thanks to the intense heat of his saber's blade, but the remaining two found their mark in his left thigh and his right forearm, respectively. The pain, he could ignore, but the sudden laxity in his grip after the injury to his forearm caused him to curse in Zabraki. He could grip his saber's hilt just tight enough to keep it from falling, but he wouldn't be able to use it in this condition.

A trail of blood spewed from his thigh when he yanked the knife from it, but that didn't stop him from hobbling toward his quarry with a determined look on his face. "You're going to fight, you karking bastard," Bril spat, deactivating his saber and sloppily tucking it into his belt. Then, he used his functioning hand to manually deploy the quadranium blade of his bracer. Normally, he would have been able to do it by moving his fingers a certain way, but Hevan's little knife stunt had robbed that hand of the fine motor control necessary to achieve that end.

As he stalked his opponent, a sudden surge of energy washed over him and provided a much-needed boost to his muscles' strength. And thank the Force for that. His timely application of the Living Force gave him just what he needed to cover the distance between them.

Hevan's mind screamed for him to move, but his body didn't obey; his limbs felt heavy as if they were covered in cement. The next thing he knew, the zabrak was standing in front of him with his beskar vambrace pressed against his neck, pinning him to the wall. The sharpened point of his bracer's stiletto produced a muted thrum as its vibration generator activated, and the blade blurred by the time it came within inches of the human's face.

This would be the last time the Knight repeated himself. Whatever happened after that would be Hevan's own fault for showing such weakness, "Prove. yourself. worthy."

Hevan struggled desperately against the man's arm. He had dropped his saber, and his vision was starting to go black. How much longer did he have before he lost consciousness altogether? What was this guy's problem, anyway? He didn't even know him, and yet he was talking like he was Hevan's master or something. The frakking nerve. The veteran had been through far too much to let this young punk get away with acting like he owned the place. Not anymore. The anger he felt earlier swelled inside him again like a raging fire, culminating in him letting out a defiant roar in his assailant's face.

Then, it happened. Both men's faces and their immediate surroundings were cast in a dazzling blue glow, and the distinct smell of ozone filled their noses as lightning exploded from the tips of Hevan's free hand. Bril felt his body seize before he was flung across the room. If he could muster the strength to talk, he'd be screaming, but the Force lightning and his hard landing had left the man's lungs bereft of precious air.

As small wisps of smoke rose from his tautened form, every nerve of Bril's body fired in unison. The pain was indescribable, and he was only able to stand it for a few moments that felt like an eternity before he blacked out.

Meanwhile, Hevan felt his legs give out, leaving him to slide against the wall and hit the ground with a painful thump. The same blackness from before encroached on his field of view, accompanying the sense of complete exhaustion that weighed on him. Just before he lost consciousness, he managed to utter a few words while grinning weakly, "Serves you right."

A few minutes passed before there was movement behind the one-way windows of the training center's observation room. The automatic doors opened with a hiss, allowing both Quaestors of Clan Plagueis to enter the room.

The Kel'Dor man lifted the brim of his hat to look at the Zeltron woman with a grin, "I told you that Hevan would pull out the victory. You know what that means?"

She shook her head, clearly disappointed in the outcome of the events, and reached in her belt to fetch a credit chip. "Things will go differently next time, TuQ'uan. I assure you that," she said while dropping the chip in his hand.

"Whatever you say, Nora, whatever you say. Now let's get these two into the bacta tanks."

"Yes, let's."