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.

The forge roared almost as if to signal the entry of the next two combatants. Its mechanical heart pumped relentlessly, flattening sheets of durasteel and issuing them along an intricate network of conveyor belts that crisscrossed glowing rivers of molten earth. This cacophonous hymn of industry and fire drowned out whatever raucous cheers or boo-hisses the crowd offered to Majyc and Katrila.

Katrila dragged a hand across her face to smooth out fur matted by sweat. She enjoyed lazing in a sunbeam on a warm summer’s day, but this heat was oppressive. And that din didn’t help, either. It sounded like an amateur noise band she heard once at a party on Taris’s lower levels. At least then there was spice in the back rooms. No matter. Ice-cold blue milk waited for her on the Katnip after the match. And all that stood in her way was an Arconan pest.

Her perch on a platform near the lava’s source allowed her a view of her opponent three tiers below. Oh, how I love a high ground, she mused as she watched Majyc strut and rile up the spectators. Beneath the infamous Mandalorian helmet, the simple cut of his robes and the single band of color along their edges identified him as a journeyman. Maybe she’d sip that drink sooner rather than later.

You’re making a fool of yourself with your showboating. They’re rooting for your downfall. Katrila’s sibilant voice echoed in Majyc’s mind. He turned around and craned his neck upward to fix his gaze on the source of the taunt. The speed and precision with which he located her actually impressed the Plagueian.

His reply occurred to Katrila much like a thought of her own might. Please. You’re out of touch. They know they’re in for a one-of-a-kind Majyc show! It could have been the bravado that exceeded what one expected from a young man, or it could have been the absolutely repugnant wordplay on his own name, but any hesitation Katrila might have felt at the prospect of slaughtering a journeyman instantly evaporated.

Well, let’s not keep them waiting. The Togorian bent her knees before leaping into an aerial somersault. As she flew on the wings of the Force that strengthened her haunches, her crimson lightsaber blade snapped to life. Her landing meant a flurry of cyclonic slashes aimed at the human. Having tucked his elbows over his ribs and holding fists in front of his hands, Majyc easily blocked the strikes; sparks flew as the saber glanced off the beskar vambraces on his forearms. With each blow he stumbled back, the redirected momentum of Katrila’s attacks adding force to her strikes.

She had dealt with enemies like him before: cocksure, eager to prove themselves for reward or recognition. Once successfully goaded, they developed tunnel vision. Took risks that could be exploited. “Come on!” Katrila bellowed over the thunderous noises of the forge’s operations. “This isn’t much of a show!”

Ah the taunt, not much of a show had him smirking behind that face-plate. The slashes scoring off the vambraces that he wore deftly blocked the flurry of slashes. It was always good to test your opponent, to find out their personality in essence. The best way to discover one's personality was through sparring and this Togorian was indeed a subject to read through combat.

"Are you going to block all day like a simpleton, or do you plan on returning the attack!" Katrila snarled as she continued the onslaught. Those forceful blows hammered to the beskar as she continued to push the human back towards one of the edges.

"Well why not this after all is quite entertaining!" Majyc would return.

That lightsaber came whistling around in another deadly slash which again was caught by one of those vambraces. His left arm forcefully raised and shoved that blade up and over as he reached the edge of the platform. Deft foot steps allowed him to dip beneath and twist around the Togorian to skip back from the edge of that platform now placing her there instead in the dance of war.

Katrila raged, "Oh you find this entertaining Joruneyman? Will you find it entertaining after I carve you into pieces?"

That crimson blade whirled around, her grip tighting on the hilt of that lightsaber as her body fell into the flow of the lethal art of combat. She propelled forward on a rush of the force that accelerated her movements, amplifying her speed with that blade whistling and lashing in the air creating a explosive, web of red arcs.

That response got Majyc to smirk again behind his faceplate as the Katrila took his bait to draw her ire. He was on the defense again allowing the Togorian to continue to fuel herself in her strikes. As she got close, he kicked off the edge of the platform in his own agile leap, his body arching backward and hips popping over in his vault to land on the next platform, momentum carrying him over. Knees uncoiled while he whipped back, palms slapping to that platform launching into a back handspring easily landed.

"You know I wonder if I could get you to purr for me, Kitten?"

Oh this Arconan is proving to be more of a pest than she first thought! The Togorian would snap, "I am not your kitten!" And those powerful haunches carried her across the distance in a leap. Gripping her lightsabers hilts in a dual-grip style, she lashed it downward in a powerful strike aimed for the annoying Human to attempt a quick bi-section of his body from the head down.

"I think I hit a sore spot. What no taunting now? So the Cats got your tongue?" Majyc quipped.

As that Togorian came leaping over with the overhand slash he barely skipped back in time. The blade came sizzling down, scoring across the helmet and leaving a burning mark across the metal a rent from the tip of that lightsaber. Majyc hissed in pain feeling the blade tip graze down over his collarbone and part of his pectoral through the armorweave. Adjusting his stance, his body slightly slightly facing away giving a smaller profile. His arms raised prepared, hands relaxed and open instead of closed fists, and his knees bent slightly. Watching the on-rush of Katrila, it seemed time slowed and narrowed in on the precision of those slashes. He twisted his left hand out, with his vambrace and fired off the DV-8 Repulsor. Not to force the Sith away. No he was pulling her to him, as that right vambrace caught the hard, sweeping swing of her blade in a deft block. Using the momentum of both the Togorian's rush, and the DV-8s repulsor field jerking her to him, Majyc launched his own body forward. Left leg snapped up and, bent at the knee launching a knee strike smashing into her sternum with bone crushing force.

An intense pain erupted in Togorian’s body when Majyc’s knee collided with her sternum. The impact forced the air from her lungs in a sharp gasp. She struggled to inhale, only wheezing as she staggered backwards from the force of the blow. Gritted teeth helped her push through the pain and regain her footing. Her muscles coiled, ready for the next exchange.

This Jedi was proving more of a nuisance than she’d anticipated. His arrogance apparently stemmed from some level of legitimate skill. A tightened grip on her saber’s hilt betrayed the anger swelling within her, searing hot and churning like the lava around them. That Majyc surely sported a satisfied smirk under that helmet only fed the fire.

“You’ll need more than parlor tricks and expensive equipment to defeat me!” yelled Katrila as she launched herself at the Mandalorian once more, this time incorporating feints and misdirection into her thrusts and slices. She aimed low before redirecting her blade higher at the last second in a test of her enemy’s reflexes, a probe for weaknesses. Again he skillfully parried most of her strikes with the vambraces, allowing only one attack from an unexpected angle to graze his side. The lightsaber cut through his armorweave robes, leaving a thin cauterized gash.

The cut provided a momentary reprieve in which the Sith pivoted away, putting several paces between herself and the injured man. Eyeing how he cradled his wound, a predatory grin spread across her face. Her strategy crystallized. She took a deep breath, drawing on the oppressive heat and the chaotic energy of the Forge to probe the energetic link that connected her to Majyc. Her fury directed tendrils of fear to coil and writhe in the darkest corners of his mind.

Majyc had begun to approach her with raised fists, but her consciousness already inhabited his. She addressed him with a raised voice as she spoke dodged and weaved away from his punches: “You play the part well, but I see you. Deep down, you know the truth. You’re just a helpless little boy playing at being a warrior. Dishonoring your heritage. Making a mockery of the Jedi’s precepts.”

Each word amplified his latent fears. His confident stance faltered as visions of failure, isolation, and abandonment bombarded his psyche. The terror taking hold of him warped and shifted his surroundings. The noise of the machinery drowned out coherent in a deafening roar; the flames licked his feet and consumed him. All he managed was to flail his arms in a vain attempt to fend off the phantasms.

"No! No it cant be."

As that terror began to fill his mind a staggering step forward was taken before he dropped to a knee. The flail of his arms moved to grasp the sides of his helmet-clad head. "N-no that is not true, not true at all!"

Gloved hands slapped at the side of that helmet while his head shook as if to shake the terrors free from his mind. Hands caught the pressure release, a hiss was heard as he jerked that helmet free. Blonde hair spilled down over his features, braids hanging drenched from sweat as he knelt there. His golden eyes closed tightly while he fought against the images and fear rampaging in his mind.

The Togorian continued the taunting, sowing seeds of doubt into her mental torture. "Oh but it is true, you are nothing but a failure. You have failed the order you cling to, you have failed all that knows you. You have even failed yourself and dishonored any that took the time of day to even look upon you as anything but mere scum!"

Her advancement had her moving slowly, each word punctuated by a step. The tip of her blade drug along the platform leaving a sizzling path in its wake. Stopping at the side of his kneeling form the feline eyes lowered and stared down. "But do not worry, I will rid the galaxy of this failure so it can no longer be a blight."

Her right arm raised that blade and held it aloft above her head. Katrila's green gaze was locked upon the bowed head, more precisely the exposed neck before a vicious downward slash had the blade moving to lop the head of the jedi from his shoulders.

"T-that is not true," Majyc stuttered out as he knelt upon the hot platform.

Sweat soaking his hair, plastering it to his skull, dripped down it made its own hissing sounds as each bead of sweat hit that heated stone beneath his bent form. The heat wasn't helping, the pain of the flames licking at his boots. But he was a soldier, not just a jedi; he was Mandalorian and trained to be fearless! Majyc's awareness of the battlefield was what saved his life. That blade coming down was met by a raised forearm and beskar vambrace as a low growl escaped through clenched teeth with words hissing from deep within, a guttural sound to them.

"I am Jedi," that golden gaze rose, a predatory focus in them locking to her own. His hand spun, wrist twisting so that as the blade of that lightsaber was shoved away his fingers clasped about her slender wrist tightly. "I am a Warrior!" His body pivoted now on the knee, the pain of the flames licking at his legs had helped, but what helped more than anything was the taunting, the fear fueling his movements to break the terror. With men, with soldiers like him it went one of two ways. Those who played soldier crumpled, and those who did not play, destroyed what caused their fear. As his body rose, he jerked the extended arm that held the lightsaber down, the forearm meeting his raising elbow with a brutal strike. The resounding crack of radius and ulna was only muffled by the wet tearing of muscle and flesh heard from the jagged edges of the violently broken bones. Blood splattered and hissed on the heated metal as a roar escaped him.

"I AM MANDALORIAN!"

A screech of pain erupted from Katrila, "YOU BASTARD!"

Jerking her arm away, her lightsaber clattered to the platform as fingers gained the pinpricks of numbness from nerve damage of torn flesh, weakness as muscle ripped causing her grip to be useless on the cylindrical hilt of that lightsaber. Her brain had an explosion of pain and agony which caused her concentration to break. But the Togorian dropping her weapon did not leave her unarmed. Her left hand came around and claws extended from slender fingertips to score across the humans face, leaving bleeding ruts in the features of that Arconian's features. The tender flesh gave way beneath the sharp tips of the hooked claws as they tore up from the apex of his chin and across his features in a diagonal line. Using powerful legs to propel herself backwards, her uninjured arm extended and the lightsaber flew to her waiting hand igniting as a scream of rage and pain erupted from her. Rushing forward, her injured arm was tucked tightly against her side, the lower half of her forearm hanging at an awkward angle from the broken bones. But the hatred and rage fueling her had the lightsaber lashing out in wild strikes.

As she came rushing in Majyc adjusted his body. The lightsaber swept past him when he bent his knees some, his own body speeding up now as the battle hastened for him. The point of his elbow struck out into her rib cage with a debilitating strike. His bent arm to uncoiled, lashing around so the bottom of his fist hammered into the solar plexus with the force of a sledgehammer to the nerve center of the abdomen which controls the organs and body's stress response. "You tried to mind fuck the wrong Mandalorian!"

A quick twist on his heel as the Togorian staggered back, gasping, his body moving quicker due to the accelerated movements had him driving his other heel into her knee, landing the Sith on her hands and knees. His arms bent at the elbow to either side of him, fists angled towards the platform beneath them before they jerked down, augmented by the force. The telekinesis infused blow struck right above the tail-bone where the spine connects to the pelvic, and between the shoulder blades with enough force to crush the stone beneath her.

As his left hand hit, the retractable wrist mounted vibroblade in his beskar vambracer released; The blade tore through tortoiseshell fur, muscle, tendon and bone with a spurt of blood rising from the wound inflicted, severing the spinal cord from the pelvic bone. No it was not a killing blow, he did not wish to kill her. He wanted her to live, to remember. That blade snapped back into its housing in his bracer as Majyc staggered back, leaving her a crumpled mess on the platform with blood leaking from her wounds and his own. He dropped down to the platform in a heavy fall panting, exhausted and battle fatigued. His golden eyes locked to the feline's emerald gaze as the Mandalorian just stared at the Togorian now. His head tipped to the side and he spat out a wad of blood and phlegm, the crowd's roaring going silent. The hush fell across the audience that had been watching before an uproarious cacophony of cheering and jeering was heard for the two warriors.