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 Forge.

Inspired by the droid factories on Geonosis and the flowing lava rivers of Mustafar, the Forge is a collection of deadly heat and hard-slamming steel. In the center of the arena is a “peak” from which the lava flows downward through rivers and cliff-faces. Radiating outward is a series of tiered rings, each getting lower the further from the center you get.

Along the rivers of lava, various arteries suck out the super heated earth to melt metal. The loud clanking slamming of metal sheets heating and cooling, tempering and forging together ring clearly through the entire arena. Conveyor belts lead the metal sheets away from the arena to be used by ACE in the spaceship yards.

How dramatic.

That was Tir’eivra’s first thought. Her tail flicked in wide arcs as its dense vascular network worked hard to dissipate the heat. Perched like a gargoyle on top of a high-tiered ring, she appeared more prideful and excited than she felt. Essential oils that seeped between her skin and alchemical suit also trickled over its shiny surface, tickling her like sweat would. Flakes of dust and burnt earth crunched under her heavy platforms, each tiny movement sending a cringe-inducing chill over her spine that made her toes curl. The sound of thousands of spectators was akin to a swarm of Endorian bees.

Clank

A metal press shook the ground and rang painfully in her ears, assaulting her with a wave of high-pitched beeping after the impact. Clawed fingers bumped into her domed visor as she attempted to reach for her nose bridge. A sharp pain pulsed through her head. Aphotis reminded herself that getting up to a high level so early was the tactically sound choice, even if it was hotter and louder. Despite the great vantage point and one of the two giant holo screens in view, she did not detect movement from her opponent at all. Vast rivers of molten rock and metal snaked through the arena. The heat that came off created ripples in the air.

Cling

The Sith could see flickers of amber and crimson on the ground, emitted from arteries of lava, and reflected back by her shiny second skin. The realization came in the form of a tap on her shoulder by the dark side. She dropped herself down and dragged her mask’s breathing hose through the dirt to peer back. A smoldering hole had appeared behind her. She was seen.

Clink

It felt like her heart had skipped a beat. She held her breath, trying to prevent the hissing of her mask from making it too easy to pinpoint her. Then she pulled herself forward. A plume of smoke. A holo-droid swooped around the corner of a conveyer below her. The tall woman snatched the hilt of Besotted and slid down, skirting along the dark soil until she dropped herself down.

Ting-Clang

Her durasteel heels buried into the ground as she landed.

Crack-hum

A crimson string of plasma emerged out of the circular hilt and curled like fibrecord. Her domed visor scanned the industrialized area. The sound of armored boots became apparent as the ringing in her ears dissipated. With a hiss, cool air entered her mask. Her stomach twisted as she heard a blaster shot. She saw the cam droid from earlier twirl down like a dead bug. Tir’eivra aimed her sight at the transfer belt and bent her knees slightly. The belt halted. Footfall increased in frequency.

Clank

She pulled her arm back and stepped forward with her boot. The ringing in her ears turned into a low buzz as she readied her lightwhip. An armored figure emerged.

Another opportunistic, honor-bound fanatic. Mandalorians.

“Tssk.”

Her disdain for their people made her palms itch. They were always brazen, always in the way. Aphotis swung diagonally, deflecting the first bolt coming at her. Then a second bounced off as she reeled the lash in. The third gave her a dance-like rhythm as her opponent sprinted over the conveyor belt, blasting away at her with a Westar-35. Electric-blue eyes squinted and locked down on her target as Besotted was skillfully weaved around to redirect the fourth projectile. It flung back toward the Mandalorian, their next move carefully pre-calculated.

Clunk-Ptchew

The bolt connected with their durasteel shoulder pad. The glowing particle beam dispersed on impact and unbalanced the armor-clad foe. With a thud, they landed next to the transporter belt on the opposite side. Alaisy stood up straight, her tail rising aggressively as she approached. Crimson lights pulsed as the metal press ground to a halt.

“Beskar’gam, you di’kut. Where did you get it?” He breathed heavily as he got up into a crouching position, clearly winded after the run, but his voice was grave. The urge to wipe the sweat from his forehead was almost unbearable.

“What? Oh you mean,” she let out a malicious chuckle, “you knew it was your people’s precious metal all the way from over here?” Aphotis’s modulated voice was aristocratic and playful, interrupted by the hissing of her mask. She peered down at the vambrace on her arm, “I have been meaning to try it out.”

“It wasn’t hard to set it apart from all the black, filthy chakaar!” The young man’s voice carried venom. He stayed crouched, out of sight of the Sith. “All the more credits for me when I return it to my people. You will be a trophy for Clan Vizsla.”

Tir’eivra tilted her head to one side in curiosity, her long ponytail following her movement. Her heels crunched and click-clacked on obsidian, “I reckon you know already what I am. The name is Aphotis, but your sweet fear will make you forget it.”

A high-pitched whistle emanated from Alaisy’s equipment as she switched to pressurized air. Her free claw reached for a canister on her high-waisted belt and unclipped it. Kael emerged before she could throw it. With twin amethyst blades brandished, he vaulted over the conveyor and charged right at her.

The Sith readied herself and nonchalantly dropped the canister at her feet. Dioxis spilled out.

Clank

Her brow furrowed in irritation and disappointment. The crack of her whip was barely audible compared to the reactivation of the metal press. Tir’eivra gasped as his speed concerned her. The first swing of Besotted was skillfully avoided as he dove under it. Aphotis gritted her teeth as she created waves in the superheated plasma cord, hoping to leave no vertical space. This time he sidestepped. No more space.

With a rumbling sound and a burst of fire from those massive platformed boots, Kael saw the tall woman lift up in the air as he skirted into a halt inside of a cloud of toxic gas.

Kael shook his head, his suit already pressurized to avoid the worst effects of the external heat. He ignored the Dioxis, continuing to advance forward, stalking the Nightsister who was used to being in control. His helmet's targeting system tracked her arc of movement, and before she’d landed, he’d already sheathed the two Kukri and unslung the heavy frame of the Merr-Sonn SX-21 Scatterblaster.

“Poor fool, running right into my…” Her words were suddenly cut off as the first spread of blaster bolts smoothly cut through the gaseous cloud, aimed right at her.

Kael shouldered the Scatterblaster, firing round after round even as he saw the accursed witch throw her hands forward. The bolts struck and dispersed around her as she took one step, then a second, then a third, being slowly forced backward as she concentrated with every fiber of her being, unable to even begin to move the Lightwhip.

Kael’s years of experience allowed him to smoothly fire, reload, fire, each and every step he took, sending another blistering barrage of light streaking towards his opponent. His helmet's sensors began to warn him of the weapon beginning to overheat as the barrel started to glow. His eyes flicked to behind the woman, a large glowing pool of magma only a few steps further behind her.

The momentary hesitation as he assessed the situation was all that the Sister needed. She felt the strain of maintaining her defenses as she heaved for breath, even as she began to twirl the Lightwhip in smooth arcs, holding the grip in one hand and cracking the tip of the whip against the stone around her, leaving deep gouges where the blade cut cleanly through.

Kael swiftly dropped the rifle, allowing the sling to catch it, one hand unholstering the Westar-35 and began firing in her direction to provide some level of cover from a counterattack. His free hand flicked to his belt, drawing the gravity grenade into his open hand and depressing it. The two opponents moved in perfect unison, the brilliant light of Alaisy’s lightning striking through the air even as Kael skipped the grenade just past her out over the edge of the lava pool.

The mercenary clenched his teeth even as the lightning struck his armor, dispersing against the plasma shielding but causing his vision and sensors to momentarily stutter and black out for just a heartbeat.

In that instant, Alaisy threw herself forward, activating the thruster in her boots to close the distance. Her frustration at the Mandalorians' stubborn advance was growing. In the exchange, she’d noticed the device thrown but assumed it to be an explosive, confident that she would be able to avoid it. Her feet left the ground as she hissed in satisfaction.

The gravity grenade passed the edge of the magma pool behind her, and with a whump, she felt herself suddenly jerked backward. Her sense of direction was thrown completely off as her forward momentum was reversed, and she felt herself pulled backward out over the edge of the pool.

Embarrassing.

The jet boots sputtered and fizzled out as she touched down on the blackened ground. It was like being sucked up by a giant vacuum cleaner. Aphotis experienced the vertigo-inducing power of the Ascendant crystal being used against her, tugging at her second skin and all of her being. Despite using her bladed heels like ice picks, she was unable to fight gravity itself. A wave of pressure built within her head, followed by the whiplash of what felt like all of her organs trying to escape her body. The sudden movements made her light-headed as her ears rang. Her hair and tail stretched out all the way toward the center of the pull, the scalding heat radiating and cooking her like rotisserie.

Kael seized his chance and created a safe distance between them. A sense of despair surged through the Sith as she realized it had become impossible to swing Besotted like this. She faced the Mandalorian with her side, letting her free arm go with the flow. That pinpointed the Ascendant-crystal-powered device. Her claws extended towards it, remembering its cylindrical shape. Tir’eivra commanded the dark side to battle gravity with the Force as she drew the grenade into magma.

Plunk

Magma swallowed the gravity grenade greedily, creating a vortex within the pool of molten rock. He took aim and then slowly depressed the trigger. A flash of light burst out of the Westar-35. The blaster bolt was dispersed by a circular energy shield summoned by her vambrace. Tir’eivra’s tail and hair were released from the pull, almost sending her careening forward before she rebalanced herself.

The Mandalorian let out a cocksure chuckle. He was going to take that vambrace for himself after this was over. He wasn’t going to let her get that whip out again and rushed at the tall, black-clad woman before she could compose herself. The next two shots wore out her buckler, but Kael was now too close for Besotted to be effective. Her mask hissed as she clipped the hilt to her high-waisted belt and fanned out her claws.

The Mercenary put his gun back in a holster and cracked his knuckles. He built up momentum in his sprint and aimed for her chest. Her eyelid twitched and she gritted her teeth. That foolhardy man was coming at her again, the sense of freedom evaporating as she had just broken out of the gravity prison. Tir’eivra crossed her arms in front of her sternum to protect it from the impact. Kael feinted the attack and brought his other arm forward, punching her in the stomach.

Alaisy’s eyes went wide, heaving and hissing as nausea was followed up by a sharp pain. She could only just raise her knee up to block a kick to her shin. The sheer agony made her vision blurry. Her chest tightened as adrenaline surged through her veins. Kael kept his attacks coming. He huffed inside his helmet, blowing the droplets of sweat off of his lips as they seeped down. Confidence turned to arrogance as he saw the Sith crumple up more and more. Her boots stepped back, heels wobbling close to the edge. She recklessly swiped out with her claws, trying to follow up with her knee. The cramped space between them limited her long leg from extending fully. He evaded both, following up with a blow to her ribs.

Crack

Aphotis shrieked in desperation, smelling the scent of iron as she coughed up blood. Her tail flailed, reaching for a pocket as tears trickled down over the nosecup of her mask. She raked aimlessly with her claw again. He caught her arm and turned his back to her, ready to break it as his body blocked any other attempt. Kael could hear her modulated cry and was convinced it was over. That he had the upper hand. His heart pounded in his chest and he wheezed from the strain he was under.

Then he felt a sharp prick in his side. Her arm began to slip away from him with the sound of her polished latex popping and snapping. The Mandalorian lost his balance as she pulled away from him and the scorching heat with an elegant pivot. His head snapped toward her to see a bloodied knife tip held by her tail. He peered down at the squirt of crimson, placing a hand over his wound.

“Did you know that you sound like an old man?” Tir’eivra’s aristocratic voice was strained, but laced with menace.

“K'atini! It’s only a flesh wound!” Between words there was ragged breathing. The scorching heat wasn’t making it any easier.

He was sure that he could best her in melee combat, but the fight should have been over by now. The Sith pushed past her suffering, dipping into the dark side to take authority over it. She found rhythm in the torture. She knew that to inflict pain, one must know pain. Tir’eivra was at her best when the status quo was at its worst.

She wasn’t going to let him catch a break. Her mask no longer hissed as the air was cut off at her command. Ignoring her broken ribs, she dashed forward, launching at him with a spinning crane kick. Dirt sprung up as the heavy platform smashed down. The Mandalorian could hear the grains of sand clash against his armor as he jumped back. But he knew the truth of the matter, he was losing ground. There was a loud screech as durasteel met durasteel, her nails creating sparks as they left trails on his chest plates.

“Frack!” His yell was full of surprise, not expecting her to chain her attacks at this speed.

Neither could reach for their weapons in time. But for Aphotis they were already attached to her alchemical suit. Each step forward was a step away from the blazing magma. Even by seizing the power of the Force, she could feel the sting from the burns on her tail and backside. Like any Sith worth their salt, she used her pain to fuel her blows with claws and bladed heels. Every hop back, every attempted block, every twist away from the black-clad woman made the exhaustion worse for Kael. His muscles were becoming stiff and sore. He smacked his lips as his mouth dried from the amount of hot air he inhaled. All the equipment he carried with him kept getting heavier. The Sith was carried by a wave of endorphins. His pain was her pleasure. Tir’eivra was leaving cutting marks all over him as she pushed him back, feeling in rapture as her attacks connected.

Clink

The familiar clanging returned and took precedent. They followed an artery and encroached on the machinery that churned out ingots and sheets of recycled metal. The revving and whirring of conveyor belts vibrated the charred ground. Aphotis’s mask hissed as air was finally allowed to stream back in.

“Why do you not tap out, Mandalorian? Before the forge turns you into yet another sheet of metal to be used in the ACE spaceship yards!”

The words seemed to seep into his mind, similar to the woman's own talons digging into his thoughts as he began to question why he was risking his life for so little profit.

Tap out

Give up

Why try?

He stumbled back under the weight of dread. He felt his body growing heavy, his vision blurring momentarily dark as he struggled to keep his eyes open. As he fell back step by step, the woman closed in again and again; he was barely able to respond. Forced to rely on his armor’s shielding and positioning himself as best he could to block the relentless assault by the deranged Sith.

He felt himself brush against the conveyor belt, the blood rushing in his ears along with his ragged breath as his body struggled to fill his lungs in the superheated environment. He felt the blood on his lips as they cracked, the pain of the vibroclaws where they had managed to penetrate his armor, everything compounding to draw his attention away from the threat directly in front of him.

Alaisy grinned behind her mask, feeling the infusion of the Force as she clouded the mercenary's mind, feeling him reeling back physically and spiritually from her assault. When she saw him pressed back against the large conveyor, she lunged towards him, intending to bury her claws into his throat and put an end to this fight.

Kael could barely see, his eyes shadowed as he warred against his body and his mind to focus. When he felt the wall of the conveyor behind him, it jarred him back to his senses, the feeling of something solid at his back giving him a physical jolt to snap back to reality. He heard the woman’s laughter, and though he could barely see, years of training forced his body to react even before his mind could.

Using the wall behind him for leverage, he raised his left forearm, feeling the last elements of the armor's shielding give way as the claws were in part deflected but penetrated the materials underneath, burrowing into his flesh and ripping sinew and cartilage. Kael grunted with pain but took the opportunity that his opponent's hands were effectively bound to him to swing an underhook up, catching the Sith on the jaw.

Her head snapped back in surprise, clearly dazed as she pulled her hands back and lurched in place for a moment. Kael stepped forward, looping one arm under her arm and using his weight and momentum to throw her over his shoulder and onto the conveyor belt, slamming her much taller but slimmer frame down, driving the air from her lungs momentarily.

The mercenary lifted his arm, bringing it back down towards her face, grimacing in pain as he watched her swiftly roll aside, using the momentum of the conveyor to carry her out of his reach. She recovered her footing and leapt backward, avoiding a large crushing arm swung down to break apart materials on the belt, momentarily separating the two combatants.

With a groan, Kael dropped to a knee, reaching for his belt to draw the synth flesh dispenser from it, quickly covering the exposed flesh of his arm, limiting the blood flow for the time being despite the arm now being practically useless to him. He felt himself struggling to stay conscious through the pain and loss of blood, wishing like hell he had a stim or something to keep him going.

He struggled to return to his feet even as the black-clad figure landed gracefully behind him. He’d lost sight of her for just long enough to allow her to reposition and once again leave him trapped. The mercenary did the only thing he could think to do with his remaining hand: he drew the Westar-35. Despite knowing she was too close for him to aim properly, he instead surprised her by using the butt of the pistol to strike her across the helmeted face, sending her into a sideways spin.

With a gasp, he looked down as he felt the sudden force of a kick to his ribs and a sharp pain as the woman’s boot knife sheared through the padding of his armor and pierced his side. He slumped to his knees again, unable to stay standing as he lost grip of the Westar-35, hearing it rattle to the ground. He looked up, seeing the cracked visor where he’d struck her, the cold fury in her vision as she kicked the blaster out of his reach.

He felt her grip him by the collar, shoving him down into the dirt as she pinned his chest down under one of her long legs and drew close to him.

“I told you to give up, Mandalorian. I might have even let you live…” she hissed before raising her free hand, the talons of her vibroglove shimmering as she prepared to slit his throat.

Coughing and choking as she tightened her grip, Kael just smiled under his helmet in return before responding, “I thought you Sith always played for blood?” eliciting a hiss of annoyance from her.

The Sith took a moment to savor the chance to kill another Mandalorian foolish enough to try and fight her. With a final moment of satisfaction, she brought her hand down for a killing blow. In that instant she felt the tug of something from her belt, Kael depressed the trigger of the C-10 Stun Grenade while holding it between the two of them. The sudden concussive burst sent Alaisy flying backward to land in a heap several feet away barely conscious, even as Kael was flattened by the concussion, losing consciousness instantly and left lying in a quickly spreading pool of his own blood.