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.

“Not so damn tight!” The words came out as a snarl, meant to bite as hard as their owner had been pinched, but they fell on the stoic face of a black and orange astromech named Riptide. The droid didn’t react; there was no whistle of apology or embarrassment, no frustrated rocking on its feet, not even an attempt to continue tightening the shield bracer onto the man’s left arm as if it hadn’t registered the cry of pain. Instead, the droid’s grasper arm froze in its extended position and the droid’s large black ‘eye’ stared solemnly back at its master in cold, calculated silence for several drawn-out moments before it chittered back at Lontra Boglach in its droidspeak.

If you are going to continue to be this fragile, I’m going to change our wager to the other guy.

A dull tone rang across the locker room after Lontra stomped his right foot into the dome of the astromech. A frantic whirl sound came from the droid as the momentum threw the droid back off its feet, causing it to crash to the floor with a heavy thud. When the R2 unit ceased to rock on its back, a high-pitched tweet came from the droid as it spun its head in delight before a dull tone filled the room announcing the lift was now in service.

That’s the spirit! Now do that up there.

“Rip, you’re forgetting…” Lontra’s sigh continued into a chuckle as he reached down to the droid and lifted it back to its feet. From there, the Arconan made his way across the locker room to the only exit available to him. Keying the turbolift open, Lontra stepped onto the platform and waited for the astromech to join him. “Where I go, you go.”

While the R2 unit buzzed in disgust, it immediately extended its third wheel and sped towards the lift. Unfortunately, the lift knew nothing about speed. As the gears rattled and lugged, the machine showed the true age of the facilities. While some modern technologies existed in the locker and medical rooms, Lontra and Riptide were slowly being lifted into an arena with foundations that were over a millenia old.

Like all great empires, the Brotherhood built itself on the foundations left over from long-dead civilizations and then converted them just enough to call the institutions their own. The Arx Colosseum was a prime example of this, as the Colosseum had seen multiple transformations over the years since the Council had occupied it. Yet, while the shell and foundations remained in their neglected forms, recent renovations only focused on furthering the intimidation factor of those found at the top of the wall looking down on those brave enough to take the field.

Having been to the arena once before during a previous design, Lontra was already familiar with its impossibly tall walls, the barren orange field, and the sounds the crowd made as blood painted both. Yet, there were new features to behold this time; additional seating had been bunched together along the walls to increase the crowds from hundreds to thousands, two large screens fed by holodroids ensured no matter the seat that the action could be watched, and an elongated platform had been installed with a central throne of stone to serve as the Council’s box.

Yet, the most important feature came from the changing design of the arena floor itself.

With different configurations, each match would rotate through different setups, ensuring that the crowds were never bored by the callous death happening below them while also ensuring each combatant faced confusion and chaos at the start of every battle. Only those hardened by similar events on the battlefield would live through this tournament. Just like every empire before them, the Brotherhood displayed its values through the entertainment it condoned.

When the lift finally lugged into its final position. Lontra and Riptide emerged from the middle of the west side of the field, with the orange sand surrounding them. Immediately, Lontro felt the sweltering heat on his brow and noticed the sun was just past its highest place in the sky. They were not the first battle of the day, nor were they the last, so Lontra noted to himself that the crowds would not be as ravenous or bored.

Yet, a muttering could be heard floating down from the walls, attention wasn’t fixed on the man’s and droid’s entrance as it should have been. Irritated by this, Lontra marched forward from the lift to the top of a berm that had been obstructing his view and marvelled at what the crowd was seeing.

In front of the Arconan, hundreds of durasteel shipping containers had been heaped across the arena floor. Some had been precariously stacked, with the tallest in the center of the field, while others had been randomly placed causing further obstruction to Lontra’s line of sight and leading to an overall sense of confusion as to what kind of maze existed here. Curiously still, it appeared that each container had been decorated or made into some kind of cheap housing complex complete with windows, doors, and even a large sign made of scrap metals and spray paint that stood at the entrance to the maze.

“Welcome To Shanty Town!” A familiar voice called out, reading the sign.

The hair raised on Lontra’s neck and a heavy, sinking feeling squeezed the man’s stomach. Across from the Arcanist, he spotted a breaded man with salt and pepper hair on top that was pulled into undercut with a ponytail out the back. The man swaggered out from behind the closest shipping crate, a IG-100 series droid trailing him, with a cocksure grin that was reminiscent of every cop in a midlife crisis who couldn’t afford a speedbike but had instead ‘discovered himself’ with a train of unattached sex and some new meditative posture he wouldn’t shut up about.

“Of course, you’re my first.” Lontra sighed heavily.

“I don’t have to be, Lontra.” The calm, reassuring voice of Jedi Master Turel Sorenn seemed to cross the void between them with little effort. “It’s okay to withdraw if you aren’t feeling ready.”

The hairs on Lontra’s neck remained raised as an irritation ate at him, yet the sinking feeling in the Arcanist’s stomach had retreated from the gentle words of Turel. It wasn’t surprising to the Arconan, as mere months ago he had called himself an Odanite and was familiar with the Jedi’s kind instruction while training together at their praxuem. Turel had been a dedicated mentor, whom Lontra felt was a kindred spirit given their shared criminal past and shared desire to better those around them. Yet, when Lontra found the rigidness of the Jedi to be too much, he knew Turel would never accept the perspective Lontra had chosen.

“Why don’t we talk about the path that brought you here?” Turel pressed, yet his words barely faded in the chorus of the crowd beckoning for the fight to start.

“We can’t, you’d never understand.” Despite pushing back, Lontra felt the hairs on his neck settle as a light wind passed between the combatants. The breeze was peaceful, even forgiving, and Lontra remained unsure if he wanted to continue with the event. Yet, it was a sudden jolt in his side and the low tone from Riptide that shook Lontra and brought him to reality.

Have you gone senile on me?! Who are you talking with?

A cold sweat had drenched the Arconan as he looked between the astromech beside him and back toward the welcome sign. Whatever conversation had just happened, it was clear to Lontra that it had only happened between him and the wind. For all that remained where the Jedi Master had stood, was a charging IG-100 unit and the mocking tones of the crowd above.

“What in the?” Longtra muttered as the IG-100 barreled toward him. Reflexively, the human drew his lightsaber, ignited it, and took up a defensive stance. The Arconan was momentarily distracted by the barrage of color assaulting his eyes. The droid’s chassis was splattered top to bottom in rainbow paint, and its electrostaff cycled through all the colors of the rainbow rather than the standard purple glow when active. It was like something out of a rave in a seedy Nar Shaddaa techno bar.

“My optical sensors are up here, handsome,” GR-1N-DR remarked with a sassy lisp as it began probing Longtra’s defenses aggressively with its electrostaff. Sparks flew as the Arconan’s blazing orange blade clashed with the electrostaff and the arena filled with the roar of the cheering crowd. The sand around them flashed with near-blinding colors as the duel continued.

Finding his focus, Longtra quickly scanned his surroundings for any terrain he could use. His breathing slowed into steady, deeper breaths as he channeled the currents of the living Force into his leg muscles. The colorful droid was fast but ultimately predictable, and Longtra settled into strategic parries using as little movement as possible. The audience's excitement was intoxicating, building and building toward a crescendo. Longtra could almost feel them willing him to break the stalemate and strike a damaging blow to the eccentric automaton.

“Oooo short king, you sure know how to handle a saber. I’m having to use all my combat subroutines,” the magnaguard cooed suggestively. The crowd’s cheers were broken up with a moment of laughter.

Longtra found himself somewhere between amused and disgusted, wondering who programmed this droid? The Arconan returned to his hasty plan by brushing aside the momentary distraction. He had slowly been positioning the duel closer to one of the shipping crates. Timing his maneuver with a strong horizontal parry, Longtra dashed to the left with supernatural speed and lept toward the side of the shipping container. The human skillfully bounced off the durasteel wall and twisted mid-air to land behind Grindr before the droid could turn around. Starting at the magnaguard’s right shoulder, Longtra slashed downward, severing the arm, and subsequently made an instantaneous shift in direction, cutting the droid through the waist.

Grindr collapsed in a heap with its right arm and lower half severed from its torso. “Oh, oh my, you seem to have rearranged my guts with your saber.” Even facing the scrapheap, the droid just had to be inappropriate.

“Now where is your master,” Longtra inquired.

Grindr scoffed, “Beats me. He ran off with his probe and datapad right after the elevator got to the surface. Something about punishing the audience.”

The Arconan didn’t have time to ponder the mystery of what, precisely, he had seen earlier if his opponent was elsewhere in the arena presumably slicing something. The holoprojector screens above shifted from a feed of Longtra holding his lightsaber above the vanquished droid to…a children’s holo?

Paw Patrol, Paw Patrol, We’ll be there on the double!

The crowd erupted into a chorus of boos with the occasional “I LOVE PAW PATROL!” shouted for good measure.

Longtra blinked in momentary surprise. “Huh? Isn’t that the stupid holo about Shistavanen pups running around as cops and stuff?”

Turel emerged from a shack down the alleyway, “HA! FEEL MY PAIN!” He strutted confidently but in no particular hurry toward Longtra. “Sorry, my daughter loves that show. I don’t think a Sith Lord could come up with a worse torture.” The Odanite glanced down at his droid, “good job Grindr. We’ll get you patched up after the match.”

“I’d like to go another round with this hunk,” the droid interjected. Turel rolled his eyes in response as he continued his approach. The crowd’s boos growing louder.

You have got to be kidding me Riptide angrily chirped in droidspeak.

Longtra pointed his saber at the Jedi, “I don’t know what you’re up to but it won’t work.”

“Oh, that?” Turel looked up at the screen, “I just wanted a moment to talk without an audience. James is here today so we probably don’t have long before he fixes it.”

Paw Patrol, Paw Patrol, Whenever you’re in trouble.

Longtra was impatient, “Talk about what exactly?”

Turel stopped several paces away from the Arconan. “Look, I don’t want to have to fight a former Praxeum student, but I have to advance to the next round. See, my sister is in the tournament, and I have to try to bring her home.”

The boos paused for a moment as the screens flickered between that annoying holo and a black screen.

“Why don’t you just talk to her outside the tournament? I’m not giving up all those creds to take a dive for your–” Longtra waved his free hand in the air in frustration, “--family issues.”

The Jedi Master hung his head in disappointment, “well, I tried.”

The Combat Master’s voice boomed across the colosseum, “And we’re back, let’s give it up for our god-like Seneschal!” The theme music had stopped and the holofeed of the two combatants had resumed on the giant screens. The crowd cheered.

Riptide was as angry as a little astromech could get. What are you waiting for? Tear him apart!

Longtra paused, keeping his lightsaber pointed at Turel. He wasn’t thrilled about fighting the Sentinel either. Turel was a good man, at least as much as he knew of him. But creds were creds and the Jedi’s audacity expecting him to just surrender was a bit infuriating. He charged forward while making a clearly telegraphed horizontal slash.

Turel hopped backward a step and in a fluid motion retrieved his own saber, ignited it and brought it to bear to block the incoming attack. Both men held their blades together for a moment, blood orange and bright purple light bathing the shipping crates and sand. The weapons crackled and hissed, sending sparks to the ground.

Longtra flashed a challenging grin, “come on Master Sorenn show me what you got!”

The Arcanist’s quip was quickly lost in the roars of the crowd above. No longer was there a unified voice, as it had been in protest of the Jedi’s channel choice. Instead, the crowd was now divided into many factions. Some were lost in their pure hatred of the Jedi and his stunt, either happy to cheer for the Arconan’s success or just as happy cheering for a cruel end to Turel’s life. Others were becoming bored with the event and were equally cheering for either combatants' misfortune or something to blow up. A few were still happy to support Lontra, but a select few were still happy to voice their displeasure with him.

Quit flirting and stab the bastard! The whistle of the R2 unit felt like it could cut through anything like Lontra’s wild swing that followed his break of the lightsaber lock. Unfortunately, the orange blade merely hummed through the air where Turel had been as the Jedi Master flipped backward to safety.

From there, the pair appeared to dance through a well-choreographed exchange as they moved deeper bit by bit into the maze of shanty town. As the Elder Jedi batted away attacks from the Equite Arcanist, the parries would open Turel to follow with a riposte back at Lontra. Yet, the Arconan would slide in the sand before wildly changing directions to deflect these until he had once again regained the advantage to strike. As the pair moved back and forth over the sands of the arena, which was at one point flung by the Arcanist’s boot as a distraction before retreating to safety, dust began to form a cloud around the combatants.

A hush fell over the crowd as their view became impaired, at points only the glow of orange and purple could be seen in the storm. Complaints shot from the crowd before beverage cans were thrown in feeble attempts to hit the holoscreens, but instead merely rained down on the sands below. Holodroids with repulsors were dispatched to move closer to the action and one arrived in time to catch a quick view of Lontra bracing for savage swing from Turel that the Arcanist intended for his shield bracer.

Turel was in perfect form, a swing with both hands on his hilt as if he was going to smash a holoball deep into the outfield. Lontra looked to be in the midst of recovery from a parry of his lightsaber. He was off-balance and raising his shield bracer in an awkward, desperate attempt to keep the purple blade from catching him in the jaw. Sparks flew from the contact of the shield and saber, but most surprising was the chasing bracer that flew from the man’s forearm and soared deeper into Shanty Town.

Strangely, as it flopped onto the sands it pinged like it touched something metallic. Immediately, a deafening explosion caught everyone’s attention. Turel and Lontro both threw themselves into the sands in a futile attempt to avoid any shrapnel and the crowd above unified once more into a collective howl that neither combatant could hear. Groans came from each, slow to rise, they each wiped sweat, sand, and blood from their faces.

For several panicked moments, Lontra strained to get back on his feet and could not shake a ringing in his ear. The man stumbled further away from where the explosion was and his arm clanged into the nearest shipping container, prompting the Arcanist to remember that there had been a window and a door there moments ago. Tucking himself into door of the mini-home, the Arconan hearing bettered just in time for him to hear a whine from Turel’s downed droid.

“Oh no! I don’t want my beefsteaks seared!” GR-1N-DR’s presence was quickly excluded from the room with a firm slam of the mini-home’s door. Lontra was tired of all these damn droids, tired of these damn games, and most importantly he was tired of the senseless violence of this day.

Turel’s pleas outside were not lost on the man. The violence outside reminded Lontra of all the senseless bloodshed of his youth and how it led to his brother’s death. After all these years, Lontra thought he was free of it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t done with him.

You forgot the traps, didn’t you? Lontra’s headset delivered the droid’s irritation.

“No, Rip.” Lontra pounded the end of his lightsaber hilt into a makeshift table with each word before continuing through gritted teeth. “I was busy fighting, you were supposed to deal with the traps, turrets, and droids. What’s the scoreboard showing on that?”

Whatever the droid’s answer had been, Lontra was distracted by the door being knocked ajar. At first it swung wide enough open to hit the inside wall where it slowly vibrated back towards its closed position. A second knock stopped the door in its place before the ponytailed head of Turel popped around its edge.

“Here’s Sorenn!” Turel quickly looked about the room and locked eyes with the Equite. Immediately, Lontra grabbed the edges of the table he stood before and pushed. The table was heaved hard into the door but Turel was able to pull his head back before it slammed shut. Immediately, Lontra keyed his comlink.

“Rip, let me know when you’re at an access panel.” Lontra planted himself beside the door with his back against the wall and prepared for his exit. His lightsaber was clipped back to his belt, while his fibrecord whip was fastened to his right wrist. His left sleeve was pulled back to expose the vambrace underneath, after which he raised his Bryar with his right hand and took a deep breath.

For several heartbeats, the Arcanist focused his breath on the living force and felt his body regain small bits of energy as he drew in each breath. After he felt renewed, the Arcanist pushed his thoughts outside of the box he stood in, letting the living force show him what was outside that door. Panic set in as he struggled to find the Jedi Master behind the door.

Across the room from the Arconan, sparks threw as three quick cuts were made into the far wall. Two long diagonal cuts were connected to form a v-shape and a final horizontal strike created a new entrance as the steel collapsed into the mini-home. Turel was quick to step through, and over his shoulder a holodroid caught the action as it unfolded.

The Jedi Master immediately stopped in his tracks at the sight of Lontra’s raised vambrace. Flame spat from its tip, darting across the room and chased the Jedi as he lept backwards from its reach. Though safe, the Jedi had landed on his back. The holodroid, on the other hand, didn’t have the same awareness and dove into the fiery vortex. The steel orb made a whimper as its circuits melted and its shell collapsed to the floor with a hull thud. Despite robbing the crowd of the next few moments of coverage, a howl of support came from ramparts.

“Once again, we don’t have long to talk.” Lontra was firm with his words as he marched towards the downed Jedi. With each step, Lontra was sure not to take his vambrace’s sights off the other man. “You were wrong before - this isn’t an elimination match, not yet. We can both still advance, but we need to make it worth it to the crowd.”

A hiss of pressurized air announced the presence of another holodroid poking in for a view. Lontra was quick to snap off his Bryar well over Turel’s head and while the Jedi scrambled to the outside wall of the mini-home Lontra kept firing until one of the blaster bolts caught the intruder, downing the holodroid.

“Let’s give them an ending that requires a sequel.” Lontra whispered around the corner of the makeshift entrance. “Do that, and I’ll help with your…family issues.”

Longtra held his position just inside the shipping container-turned-shack as he waited for some kind of acknowledgment Turel had accepted his offer. The roar of the crowd made it hard to hear, but the Arconan could make out footsteps in the sand, making their way away from the wall and toward the other side of the alley.

A familiar voice rang out at the outskirts of Longtra’s mind, “Okay, if you want a solid ending, then follow my lead.” A moment passed as the Arconan tried to figure out if he had imagined the response. “No, this is real, and telepathy works a lot better if you don’t fight it.”

“Okay then,” Longtra remarked dryly to no one in particular as he kept his Bryar aimed at the makeshift entrance and carefully moved in a semi-circle motion parallel to the entrance to clear the immediate area outside. As he exited the shipping container Longtra immediately locked the Jedi in his sights. Turel was standing across the dusty street, holding his own blaster down at his sides. The Odanite was curiously standing out in the open but next to an alleyway that he could presumably duck into. By this point there were camera droids floating in various angles above the makeshift street.

“Just play along; this is a bit from a holonovella that I might have seen a few episodes of.”

Longtra made his best stone-cold Sabaac face as he waited for whatever Turel had in mind to play out. He hoped the Jedi could sense his growing skepticism and irritation. The Arconan slowly stepped forward, keeping his blaster trained on the Odanite.

Turel propped his blaster hand on his hip, leaned to the right and began waving the index finger of his free hand around in a sassy manner, “What you said in the house just now was sweet but I just can’t be with you in the way you deserve.” The Jedi throw the back of his free hand up to his forehead in an overly dramatic gesture. “It’s…it’s the code…that damned code…the Jedi code forbids attachment and I–” he paused for dramatic effect, “--just can’t get attached to a known scoundrel like you.” The crowd grew strangely quiet save for a few hecklers. They seemed invested in the scene playing out.

It took every ounce of will and control Longtra had not to yell “WHAT?!?” or just pull the trigger in that moment. He gritted his teeth and kept his composure.

“You’re distraught at my rejection. Walk up and hit me.”

The Arconan lowered his weapon and angrily strode across the street; he certainly knew how to improvise. “A SCOUNDREL?! IS THAT WHAT I AM TO YOU?!?” He stopped shouting as he got a few steps away. “What about the time we spent as roommates at the Praxeum? Does that mean nothing to you?”

Someone in the crowd shouted, “OH MY ASHLA, THEY WERE ROOMMATES?!”

Longtra closed the distance and slapped the Jedi as hard as he could. “You judgmental schutta! How dare you!”

“Ow.”

Turel turned his head back, nursing his cheek with his free hand, “You never cared about me anyway you dirty pirate! You just wanted to use me to get close to my sister!” The Jedi punctuated his last sentence by swinging his free arm in a horizontal motion right to left unleashed a translucent wave of pure Force energy.

Longtra opted not to brace or avoid the blast and was sent flying backward into the durasteel side of a shipping container with a dull thud. The crowd cheered, “kick the Jedi’s ass!” He stood up and took aim at the Jedi, “the dark side take you, you hypocrite!” He fired a few bolts intentionally wide to the left of Turel’s head.

The Jedi scrambled for cover, loosing a few poorly aimed shots of his own. “See how attachment leads to violence!”

I’d give real creds if he’d shut up Riptide commented in droidspeak over Longtra’s comlink. What in the galaxy is going on out there?

The Arconan kept his blaster trained on Turel’s location, keeping a sporadic but steady flow of suppressing fire. The roar of the crowd grew louder with each step he took to get the right angle to end this.

Turel popped from the alley corner and took aim at a seemingly random container on the opposite side of the street. Longtra couldn’t help but glance at what the Jedi was aiming at. “OH FRAK!” It was a mine and it was closer to the Arconan than it was his opponent.

BOOM.

Longtra had instinctively dove to the ground to avoid shrapnel, even though he was a relatively safe distance away from the mine. Still, his ears were ringing slightly and he struggled to keep balance for a moment as he lept to his feet and retrained his blaster on the corner Turel had popped out from. He had lost eye contact with the Jedi’s position for a few seconds. He saw the Odanite peek his head out and took an intentionally wide shot at him. Longtra was actually angry at almost getting blown up.

Suddenly the hair on the back of neck stood up as a warning blared across the edge of Longtra’s consciousness. Something was behind him. Before the Arconan could turn around he felt a blaster press into his back.

“Nothing personal kid.”

Longtra’s entire body erupted into fire as every muscle from head to toe spasmed. He recognized the feeling of getting hit with a stun bolt though he’d never gotten one at point-blank range before. He hated that he had been taken by such an obvious illusion. As the Arconan slumped into the dirt and his vision faded to black, he swore he could hear the crowd groaning and booing the Jedi’s cheesy line.