Built from the shell of an ancient foundation, the Arx Colosseum has undergone renovations to allow multiple new configurations for battle. Its spectator setup remains largely the same, with high walls, tall enough for even the most savvy Jedi to find unscalable that lead up to spectator chairs which are divided into nearly organized sections to accommodate several thousand people. At the center, an elongated platform “box” contains 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 match bia holocam drones.

Today’s setup is known as The Shanty Town.

Hundreds of shipping containers line the arena floor, some stacked tall, others singular obstacles forming the walls of a complex maze. Each has been converted to function as housing, windows, doors, even furnishments added to further sell the illusion of it being a living town.

While the only real life contained within is today’s combatants, that is far from the only level of danger found within.

Dozens of armed and battle-ready droids hide in wait. Turrets and barricades line the narrow passageways of the town. Expertly hidden mines wait to trigger with every step. Make no mistake, the Shanty Town is ready to kill all who enter it. Embracing its chaos, and surviving is no easy feat.

It was the roar of the crowd that got to Shanree before anything else. He’d seen battlefields across the Galaxy, he’d experienced the best and the worst its millions of worlds had to offer, but he was still surprised when a new experience got into his core and really excited him. Their noise was tremendous, perhaps the consequence of being at the center of their collective focus in the arena of Arx’s Colosseum. The crowd’s enthusiasm was electrifying and he instantly understood the draw, even if their shrill cheers were nearing the point of pain to his ears. He let his jitters out by jumping in place and limbering-up like a seasoned athlete. He bobbed there lightly on his feet studying the arena before him.

From where Shanree had entered the arena floor he could not directly see his opponent, the Chiss girl from Arcona. In a literal sense he could not see anything. Shanree was Miraluka and he lacked the eyes most species across the Galaxy had and used. He instead perceived the world through the Force. It was often easier to use terms familiar to the Sighted to describe how it was he experienced the environment around him. Living things were surrounded and infused with the Force, especially those who were gifted in its use, and he could “see” them with great clarity and detail. Inert things, inorganic and dead things, he perceived in silhouette from how the Force flowed around them. Gifted as he was in the Force he could tell a great detail from very little with his sight.

He studied this new battlefield. Before the Taldryan SAG Agent was a complex series of ghostly boxes and hazy information pertaining to any number of things he couldn’t yet distinguish. While he could not see the glow of his opponent, he could strongly sense the direction in which she stood. Like him, she’d entered the arena from a ground level door that had sealed before her. He pulled both of the lengths of Wroshyr wood from over his shoulder so that he held one in each hand. Twirling them at the wrist he tested their heft and kept the muscles in his forearm warmed up.

A series of horn blasts issued-forth announcing to the combatants that the game was on. Shanree trotted forward with light foot steps, scanning his surroundings. They’d been warned in Orientation that the arena was littered with dangerous traps and droids. Sure enough he located such a mine ahead of him and he nimbly stepped as to avoid triggering it. The old Soldier was congratulating himself on finding and avoiding a second mine when a shiver ran down his spine. The length of wood in his right hand spun with sudden movement in-time with the report of a blaster being fired. Above and to his right an old B1 battle droid had peered out from behind a barrier and taken a pot-shot at him. The droid squawked as an invisible hand swatted it backwards and into something solid behind it with a crash.

"Frell, is the whole match going to be like this?” he cursed under his breath as he momentarily studied the Wroshyr wood fighting stick. The blaster’s bolt hadn’t done the durable weapon any lasting damage, “Alright, let’s find this girl and be done with it.”

He leapt with preternatural power and grace onto some of the cargo containers stacked to his left, and then used his momentum to hop across to another stack where he crouched down behind a barrier. He used his new vantage point to study the Arena around him, looking for clues to where Sivall was. Shanree could be patient and so he waited, his every sense directed at the simulated shanty town in-front of him. It wouldn’t do to say it was quiet, the crowd’s roar was still ever present even if it had settled down somewhat, but there was nothing happening. He’d managed to find two mines and a droid within a minute of the match’s start but he could sense nothing that suggested Sivall had done the same.

”I must be getting old,” he thought to himself. “Why did I think this was a good idea?”

The blaster bolt came from behind him so his instinct was to roll over his shoulder. He flung himself sideways from where he thought he’d been well concealed before he’d even had a conscious thought. He rolled up onto a knee in a defensive position with both of his Wroshyr wood fighting sticks revealing themselves as lightsabers. Holding both emerald blades before him, Shanree anticipated the next shot, but it never came. He looked around, his head darting one way and then the other looking at the tops of the other nearby shipping crates and simulated shacks. He saw nothing. Confusion filled him but he knew better than to remain in one position and let the enemy dictate his movement. He rose to his feet and with a quick sprint launched himself across a gap onto a nearby roof, and then again to another stack of containers seeking to get an angle on where he presumed the blaster bolt had come from. Shanree knew he wasn’t keeping hidden very well, jumping from vantage point to vantage point, but he wanted to avoid the mines that plagued every square inch of the ground. It was just one less thing to focus on, and perhaps he could draw Sivall into making a mistake and revealing herself. He made a rather tempting target after-all with his glowing sabers and showy leaps.

The next blaster bolt came from behind and to the right. Ready this time, his instinct was to deflect the bolt with the emerald-green saber in his right, which sent the coherent light into a nearby durasteel bulkhead with a sizzle. He followed this smoothly with an overhand throw of the saber hilt in his left. Shanree was in the moment and his senses were keenly honed, and he understood the Chiss’s gimmick now. Guided by his trust in the Force the saber flew like a giant throwing knife. Sivall appeared as if from no-where with a look of surprise on her face but she deftly sidestepped the saber. The saber had never been meant for her however; Shanree couldn’t predict where she had been that well, but he had sensed the mine near where he suspected she was enshrouding herself. The explosive detonated with a crack-boom the instant the tip of the lightsaber hit it, sending debris and shrapnel in all directions. The Arconan was sent flying forward off of her feet where the hard ground, several meters ahead, caught her ungently.

The explosion caught her by surprise.

She had miscalculated. She should have known better, should have known that even if her opponent was a Miraluka, he could likely perceive the mines in some way or another. It only made sense that he would use them against her to gain the upper hand. Her approach had been sloppy. Sivall had done a disservice to her ploy by trying her best to aim for the most non-lethal spots with her blaster–the Arena droids she had been trying to impersonate were likely programmed to not care if they hit something important.

The Chiss was only stunned for a moment when she hit the surface of the shipping container. She had connected first with her shoulder, which howled in searing pain, having been tucked under herself in an attempt to brace. It didn’t matter how much her shoulder screamed, however, as she didn’t have time to wallow. Seconds could be the difference between her gaining the advantage or giving the match to Shanree, and she had wasted enough time already. A deep breath steadied her, instilling silence and confidence once again, steeling her nerves for the plan unfurling in her head.

Pale blue hands planted against the dirty metal and grime of the container-turned-home as she pushed herself into a modified stance that resembled a mixture of a push up and a crouching feline. Shanree had used the slim few heartbeats that she had been down to search for his saber in the direction where it had been flung off into the distance by the explosion he had triggered.

It seemed he was also formulating a plan, piecing together what he would do next now that he had uncovered his hidden foe. Shanree had an effortless calm about him which made it hard to read if he was concerned about his ability to handle her or the fight to come.

Her plan was relatively simple now: she would use the shadows again– sneak in and out of view, use the arena against Shanree, perhaps splice a droid or two. Her slicing skills had gotten rusty but the risk was worth it. Sivall had spent time observing her opponent before Shanree had found her and had taken note of the confidence in his walk, the sureness of his steps. This was a man who was used to battle and was likely far more experienced than she was. Close quarters combat would not be an option. The only way she could win this match was by being clever.

The droids tracking her movement for the audience lost sight of her as she quickly shimmered out of sight, blanketing herself in the Force Cloak she had gotten so adept at using.

It would have been a good tactic, but Sivall had miscalculated once more.

Shanree smirked, only lightly at first, before reaching out with his hand and plucking her small frame into the air.

“Nice try,” he chuckled, “but my senses aren’t so easily fooled. I’ll give you an ‘Aurek’ for effort, though.”

His smirk grew, gaining a barely concealed air of cockiness to it as the man lowered himself from his position on the topmost container in the stack. The transition and change in elevation did nothing to lessen his hold on her. Warning bells went off in the Chiss medic’s mind.

Sivall swore internally, panic rising.

Thinkthinkthink.

An idea rose from the fog of uncertainty and frustration that had started to swell inside her skull. She could use his senses against him!

Shanree had begun to make his way towards her, brandishing only one of his staves-turned-lightsabers. So she dropped her Cloak and focused her energy elsewhere. The Force filled her arms and legs with strength, pouring into her veins like sunbeams liquified and injected into her vascular system.

A surging tempest of energy within canceled out his telekinesis and freed her from his invisible grasp. Fueled by the tidal wave of energy inside her, Sivall propelled herself forward with unnatural speed across the container that they stood upon, quickly closing the space between them. She could tell with the look on Shanree’s face that she had caught him by surprise as well. He hadn’t expected her to have a counter to his hold– and not many did.

Her past afforded her with the luxury of having the motive to train the skill and the drive to hone it. Out of all the bad that had been her life before, at least there was this one silver lining.

A booted foot connected fully with the taller man’s lower ribs, ripping a heavy pain-filled gasp from his lips, the Miraluka’s moment of hesitation enough for her to get in a solid hit. The medic felt bone give way under the contact. Good.

While it was very unlikely that she could win this fight, she could at least tell Anders when it was done and over that she at least got a hit in and went down fighting. She wanted to make him proud. She wanted to show him that taking her under his wing had been worth the time and energy he had poured into her.

The Quaestrix of House Galeres wasted no time pulling away from Shanree so he couldn’t catch her foot. She took another step back and raised her hands, causing the shadows around them to rush towards the pair like hungry beasts. It cloaked the area and created a dome of thick haze. She hoped it was akin to throwing ink in Shanree’s non-existent eyes. The Elder would be forced to escape the bubble of darkness or the two would be reduced to duking it out using their other senses for the next few moments.

By then hopefully she would be closer to the edge of her cover and making her way across the containers once more.

She took an utterly silent step to her left, all of her other senses on alert for incoming attacks. She had handicapped herself as well with this move as it was likely his senses were stronger than hers– including but not limited to his ability to reach out in the Force.

But she had brought him into her home turf, dragged him down into the shadows her clan was so well known for. She had fought so often in the dark– and hoped she could see better in this cloud than him with all of the Force energy filling the air.

Sivall’s play was bold, very high risk-high reward. She had not done the research that the SAG Agent had done though, she likely didn’t have the resources of the Taldryan Republic’s intelligence services briefing her. Taldryan had a long rivalry with the Shadow Clan and its Officers were doing everything in their power to prepare their hometown favorites for their matches. Her strategy might have worked on someone else. Shanree growled inwardly at the sharp pain in his abdomen as his free hand cupped it protectively, a slow warmth spreading from under it dulling the pain.

“Okay,” his inner voice snarled. “My turn.”

Shanree drew two short, sharp breaths and then one long one through his mouth– wincing as his diaphragm heaved. As he did so, his feet slid across the graveled arena floor into a wider, deeper stance. He drew his hands inward, one still gripping his Wroshyr wood hilt, and then thrust them out to each side. An invisible wall burst from him in all directions, violently hurling everything within a few meters of himself outward. Dirt, gravel, debris of all sizes, and of course Sivall were thrown from the bubble of darkness. The Force had tickled the back of her mind a heartbeat earlier and she’d had the foresight to brace herself, but the invisible wall crashed against the meager aegis she’d erected in the Force with such violence that it collapsed as if it hadn’t been there at all.

Again Sivall found herself on the ground. There was no time to pound dirt over it though. She looked back over her shoulder, as she scrambled to her feet, to see the Taldryanite strolling out her null-sphere unperturbed. He moved with a predatory grace, stepping lightly on his feet in such a way that suggested his entire body was strong and under his complete control. He strode across the ground towards her, his lithe body seemingly gliding until he came to a stop before her.

“Anders says you know how to fight, so stop playing around and show me what you’ve got.” Shanree lowered himself into a Teras Kasi fighting stance, flourishing his Wroshyr hilt like a fighting stick with practiced ease until both it and his free hand settled into his first position.

Sivall drew a blade at her belt and with the flick of her thumb it began to hum almost imperceptibly “If you aren’t careful, Your arrogance is going to get you cut.”

“You can try”, the older man was in motion before she could blink, the fighting stick assailing her.

He moved like water, a wave of offense that crashed upon her rocks. Shanree probed her movements by bringing the blunt weapon in his hand at her from above, from the side, and from below. He studied how she used her feet and how she moved at the waist to avoid having to block the dense wood of his lightsaber hilt. Where she couldn’t dodge, the Arconan managed to redirect the attack away from herself deftly, sometimes hitting the side of the fighting stick with an open palm strike that slapped it almost out of his hand. She was no doubt studying him as well, how his mastery of Teras Kasi led him to use flashy movements, unusual approaches to closing and gaining distance, and importantly to her—how to pierce his defenses. Sivall chose her moment as she sidestepped a front kick and juked out of the way of a follow up double-kick. She took them to the forearms, which she kept tightly tucked to her body defensively, and then lashed out with the vibro-dagger in her hand when she saw her opening.

The dagger slashed forward but found only air. Shanree had turned his body sideways and now found himself beside Sivall’s arm and hand. He wrapped both tightly under his own arm, weaving the fighting stick between them and up along her back. He wrenched hard and felt her shoulder pop as it dislocated. The weapon in her grip dropped immediately as she gasped in sudden pain. Shanree lifted her up, using his leverage, and slammed her face first into the ground where the breath was knocked out of her with a squeak. She struggled but the fight was already over; Shanree still had her arm ensnared in his bind and he now had a knee in the small of her back. Reaching down carefully he removed the blaster from her belt and then pointed the muzzle at the side of her head.

Hatefully, one of her red eyes stared up at him from the corner of her face, “I won’t say I yield.”

Shanree nodded, trusting her when she said so. He tossed the blaster in his hand up so that it spun in the air and he could catch it by the barrel. He swung the butt of the weapon down and hit the back of her head, “I get that.”

The crowd roared their approval as the horns sounded, ending the match. Shanree climbed off of her immediately, and gingerly rolled her over into a recovery position awaiting the medical droids who would imminently arrive.

A nagging feeling filled Shanree’s mind. The forewarning was not enough, however, as the Miraluka had let his guard down in thinking he had won. A ’vwooom’ cut the sound of celebration short as a white lightsaber blade pierced the man’s leg.

The crowd fell silent. The bell signaling the end of the match stopped and Shanree looked down with his not-vision to stare at the plasma blade currently buried into his right thigh.

Sivall had only been unconscious for a heartbeat. She had then fought through the pain blooming through her skull, pushed it deep deep down knowing it would likely take her out at the knees later.

The Chiss had adjusted the lightsaber attached to her right hip, since Shanree had restrained her left arm, to face towards her opponent and then activated it.

The acrid smell of burning synth-fiber and flesh filled both of their noses.

But the Quaestrix wasn’t done, no. The tiny woman under Shanree’s stunned form once again focused the Force to flow through her body, bolstering her speed and strength. Within milliseconds she had deactivated her saber and flipped the pair so Shanree was now laying on his back against the filth of the pretend slum with Sivall laying on top of him.

Red filled her vision and the Dark Side’s insidious whispers raked over her consciousness, replacing her pain with fury. She felt Shanree gasp in surprise as they hit the ground and felt him begin to try and shove her off. But the position he was now in trapped him just as much as he had trapped her. Both of his hands were crushed between him, his pretend-staff, and her back.

Siv locked her legs with his to prevent his squirming and took a deep breath.

What quickly followed was a brutal succession of multiple backwards headbutts into the Taldryanite’s face. Each successful and consecutive hit only furthered the concussion she would feel once the battle was over—and once her Control slipped and allowed her to feel the dislocated shoulder which she had only made worse and all of her other injuries…

That was a problem for the future, not the present.

Shanree’s nose was brutalized after the first two hits, and the Miraluka’s struggles and gasps stopped after the fifth. Sivall rolled off of him after the sixth hit and brought herself into a crouched position, her head throbbing with pain to the tune of her racing pulse. The Arconan’s left arm hung limp and unresponsive while her right swiftly unclipped her lightsaber from its spot. She now held Caduceus in front of her face with her grip reversed, activating the weapon in case she needed to repel a counterattack. The blade hummed softly as she watched over it for any signs of movement from her opponent.

There were none.

“I told you your arrogance would get you cut, Son of Taldyra,” she hissed softly, her now sanguine-gold eyes burning with anger and indignation that he would think her so easily beat. That he would think that anyone who trained under his Proconsul would be knocked low so effortlessly.

“If you are the best Anders’ clan has to offer, he should really rethink who he lets represent you all.”

Sivall attempted to stand but her vision swung wildly to her left, causing her to stumble. The ex-assassin now turned medic fell to one knee and dropped her saber to the ground, catching herself with her right hand as the bell sounded once more, signaling the end of the match… for real this time.

Blood dribbled onto her face from the fresh gash on the back of her head which stained her raven locks a disgusting red-indigo, a metallic flavor quickly filling her mouth. Her control over her pain ebbed as the Dark Side faded from her body, leaving in its place a familiar exhaustion. It took everything in her to remain upright and wait for the medical droids.

A gasp of disbelief left her lips and a crooked smile filled her features. She had won. Somehow she had won. Sivall hoped she had done her Clan proud.