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.

Tisto hopped and shadowboxed as he made his way through the dimly lit network of tunnels under the arena. Supposedly, this upgraded venue could reconfigure itself between matches to simulate all sorts of environments. The Kiffar had no clue what he was walking into or even who his opponent was. He could faintly hear the roar of the crowd as he came upon the elevator that would take him up to the floor of the Colosseum.

A silver protocol droid holding a plain brown box was waiting for him at the elevator, “Mister Kingang?”

The Odanite was momentarily annoyed; he didn’t feel old enough to be a Mister. “Yeah, I’m Tisto.”

“From the Combat Master,” the droid handed the box to Tisto before sauntering off. The doors to the elevator opened with a ding.

After getting into the elevator and having the doors close behind him, Tisto opened the box to find a pair of boxing shoes in a bright yellow that matched his trunks which, aside from his shockboxing gloves, was the only thing he was wearing. A note was attached to the shoes that read “You might need these; the soles are thermal resistant. - Idris”. The Kiffar’s face curled into a grimace of confusion. “What?” If he wanted to wear shoes he would have brought them. Tisto preferred shockboxing barefoot when he could.

The elevator came to a stop and the door slid open. The pungent smell of sulfur and smoke filled the air. The arena had been configured to what appeared to be a large peak of jet black stone with lava flowing down the side in fingers of glowing orange. Metal walkways and industrial buildings protruded off the sides of the peak.

Tisto looked down at the Combat Master’s ‘gift’ again, “Oh.” He wouldn’t be able to show off his shockboxing skills if he burned his feet on the hot stone. After putting on the boxing shoes on, he walked down a durasteel walkway toward a large shuttle landing pad that had a clear view of the stands. In the middle of the pad was his opponent.

“Turel?”

Tisto recognized the former High Councilor and his annoying walking HR complaint of a droid Grindr. The crowd seemed to be half booing and half cheering the human Jedi.

The arena sound system blared with the Combat Master’s voice, “and his opponent, the shocking shockboxer TISTO KINGANG.”

Turel turned around to face the Kiffar, “Tisto—what in the galaxy are you wearing?”

Tisto ignited his shockboxing gloves, which sent the crowd into a frenzy. “I don’t do armor and I don’t need it to beat an old man.” He was playing it up for the camera droids, as he did have a decent amount of respect for his fellow Odanite. Tisto had seen Turel in action to know the Sentinel Master was a slippery one who relied on trickery to best his opponents. Hopefully he could pin the human down to a fair fight so he could show off his skills to the crowd.

Turel rolled his eyes and walked over to Grindr, removing his blaster holster and lightsaber. He also removed his outer jacket leaving on his undershirt. “Keep these; it’s time to teach Tisto to respect his elders.” The Jedi Master stretched performatively as he seemed to be readying for a hand-to-hand fight.

Tisto heard Turel’s voice in his head, Put on a good show; they don’t exactly like Jedi here on Arx.

Grindr stowed Turel’s weapons and made a show of fanning itself, “Oh my, I think my circuits might overload. Why don’t you take your shirt off, master?”

“Yeah T, show off that dad bod!” Tisto quipped.

Turel went red in the face, clearly that last remark had touched a nerve. The Sentinel extended both hands toward his opponent with palms facing out. The attack was heavily telegraphed and Tisto leaned forward to brace himself as a wave of Force energy gave him a strong shove. While the Kiffar braced, Turel had closed the distance and began making quick strikes probing his defenses.

Tiso smiled as he near-effortlessly ducked and weaved his opponent's barrage of attacks. The old man would tire himself out at this rate. He played up not striking back for the crowd, none of Turel’s shots were landing. Tisto was in control.

“You’re getting slow as well as soft old man! Stop trying to hit me and hit me!”

The shock boxer frowned as the exchange went on. For as long as he had known Turel, a direct fight like this had never quite been the man's style. Despite this, the Kiffar had to admit he trusted the Human when it came to making plans. So, he played along, keeping just out of danger and taking great care to watch his footing. Idris might have made sure he had shoes for the arena, but he was still in just boxing shorts.

What is Turel's plan exactly? Tisto wondered as he ducked under another punch, taking several quick steps back to make it look like he was getting overwhelmed. Of course they don't like Jedi on Arx. Why do I need to make the fight look good?

All in due time. Turel's voice came again, causing the Kiffar to narrow his eyes. Turel becoming a teacher and a parent had made him insufferable these days. All that talk of doing better and showing that someone like himself could become one of the greatest Jedi Masters of their time frustrated the boxer.

Tisto lost himself in that distaste, taking a blow to his left arm as he barely got it up in time. Reading my mind then? Well fine! You got to show off how easy it was to become the person you wanted to be. You don’t need to rub in how much I have failed!

Another blow from Turel landed, this time in the ribs, while Tisto found himself more caught up in his own thoughts. Is this good enough of a show for you?! The boxer shook his head, trying to focus back on the fight. He liked Turel well enough, looked up to him even but the difference between the two grated at him. Turel would always be the better person and Tisto felt like there was nothing he could do to improve. Would I even want that level of smugness?

Turel was the model of a criminal turning into a hero. He had a family, supportive friends, and had turned his life around. And here I am failing to walk in his foot steps!

A third strike broke through as Tisto focused on the growing insecurity in his head. His guard was fully dropped at this point, and the hit came right to his mouth. The Kiffar took a step back from the blow and ran his tongue over his teeth. Good nothing broken. The pain from the impact was helpful in getting his brain back on track. The boxer felt a heat build up in his throat, so he opened his mouth and let out a wordless scream into the arena. His ears started ringing with the volume, and he saw Turel grab his own head. He kept it up for a few heartbeats, letting the insecurity have a voice.

Tisto found himself growing dizzy as he stopped. Both he and Turel stood there for several seconds trying to get the sound to stop. And Tisto’s head felt clear, the insecurity fading away. “You ass!”

Turel attempted to look over only to shake his head as the ringing faded away.

“You were doing that.” Tisto continued, a smile on his face. “If you wanted me to doubt myself you could have just taken your shirt off and flexed in my general direction or something.”

“Why would anyone feel bad seeing that?” Grinder cut in.

Turel rolled his eyes. Really? Me? I’m your role model? You should know better Tisto. Be better.

“Oh shut up old man. That was entirely unfair.” The Kiffar frowned. “I half expected you had done your whole ‘Don’t give away this me is fake’ thing until I stepped in the wrong spot and you hit me in the back of the head with a bottle. Not mess with my mind.”

The two stood there for a few seconds, Tisto looking at the ground and Turel trying to give the unresponsive Kiffar a look of pity. Eventually the Human spoke up. “Do... you want to talk about it after the fight?”

“I would rather punch you in the face. Lose the shirt so at least one person here can get some enjoyment out of this fight.”

Several meters away Grinder cheered at the idea.

“No, I don’t think I will,” Turel remarked calmly. “You’ll have to make me.” He grinned.

“OH COME ON!!” Grindr shouted with exasperation.

Tisto rolled his eyes; it was a flimsy premise for a challenge, but why not? The Kiffar smacked his shock boxing gloves together, causing sparks to shower onto the Durasteel deck. “As you wish, old man.” He had no idea why the human was being so shy about stripping down. From what he knew of the ex-gangster, Turel had certainly gotten around in his pre-family days.

I don’t know if anyone’s told you this, but things start to slow down when you get older. All that beer starts to stay around the midsection longer than you’d like.

“GET. OUT. OF. MY. HEAD!” Tisto was legitimately angry at this point. He rushed forward to close the distance and opened with a roundhouse kick that the Jedi Master easily blocked. Tisto called upon the Force and willed it to flow into his arm muscles before unleashing a barrage of quick strikes designed to overwhelm his opponent’s defenses.

Turel parried a few blows then hopped backward in an attempt to dodge but caught a solid blow to the stomach. Electricity flowed through his body as the shockboxing glove discharged into his abdomen. The human raised his left hand instinctively to block while favoring his midsection with his right. As Turel made the defensive motion, Tisto felt every muscle in his body lock up. He suddenly couldn’t move.

Ow.

A few heartbeats passed by with Turel staggering backward while holding his left hand up in the air. The Kiffar tried to continue the assault but it was like some invisible force was holding him in place. Unfortunately for Turel, this sensation was not a new one for Tisto. In fact, the Hoth Quasestor had trained against this very technique. A slight grin crept across Tisto’s face.

“Nice try grandpa!” Tisto willed the Force energy he had directed to his muscles to explode outward. His arms shot off to his sides as if he were breaking ghostly chains. Now free of the Jedi Master’s stasis, Tisto lept forward for a powerful haymaker punch. Turel had only a moment to look up in surprise before catching a clean blow to the right cheek. The older man fell to the ground from the sheer momentum of the blow, though Tisto was somewhat impressed as how Turel had taken the punch like a champ.

Now on his stomach, Turel pushed himself up to his knees. He rubbed his cheek and leaned down to spit some blood onto the hot durasteel. “You hit like my sister.”

Tisto was very familiar with Morgan Sorenn’s fearsome reputation, “Uh thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Turel grasped with his free hand and swung it toward himself. A warning rang out in the back of Tisto’s mind but he didn’t have time to fully realize what was happening. It was like a wave originated behind the Kiffar and crashed below his knees, knocking the shockboxer forward. The landpad floor was almost like an oven and the Kiffar jumped up reflexively lest his face and chest get burned.

As Tisto got to his feet a sweaty white shirt smacked him in the face. He swatted it away quickly to the ground. When his eyes came back up he saw Turel, now shirtless, standing in a sassy pose.

“Fair is fair. Gotta give the fans what they want,” the Jedi Master quipped as he gave a flex toward the camera droid. The Sentinel was in very good shape for his age but he also did look his age. Defined muscles in his arms and chest gave way to an ever so slight pouch in his midsection. He looked like someone who was fit, but still enjoyed the good lager with his dinner.

“WHOOOO DADDY!” a random voice in the crowd shouted to a round of laughter. Tisto was just surprised that particular comment hadn’t come from Grindr.

Turel turned back to Tisto, “Well, you wanted a fight, you got one. Ditch the gloves and let’s make it a fair one.”

“Since when have you started doing fair fights?” Tisto asked as he powered the gloves off. The Kiffar had to stop himself from just throwing them on the ground like he normally would in this situation. Damn, years of habits are really bad with this arena. “Oh come on now,” Turel put a hand to his chest and gave a good impression of taking that comment to heart. “You know most of my best tricks.”

Tisto rolled his eyes at that. “I’m still not entirely convinced that this hasn’t all just been some illusion.”

The two of them stood for a while as Tisto tied his gloves to his belt. Turel smiled at the Kiffar. “Please if this was all some illusion I would have revealed it by now. Hit you in the back of the head with something.”

Tisto sighed, shifting how he was standing so his weight was on his lead foot. He raised up his arms, bending his elbows close to his chest. Turel drew back his left side, his lead arm raised higher than the other, lightly bending his elbows. Tisto could feel his heart pounding like a drum. If he isn’t lying this will be the first proper fight in so long.

The boxer advanced with a series of light jabs, keeping himself from putting his weight behind them. Turel took to the defense like a mynock takes to space, knocking the blows aside with his palms. The two kept mobile, circling around Grinder as a way to avoid the worst parts of the arena. Tisto tried to close the distance with an uppercut, only to watch Turel sidestep the attack. The Jedi Master followed that with a light shove knocking Tisto off balance and causing him to crash into the droid. The two hit the ground with a crash, Tisto thankfully landing on top of Grinder.

“This is a welcome surprise..” The droid began before Tisto pushed himself back up. “Awww.”

Tisto reached to the Force, feeling a familiar heat flow into him far more comfortable than the arenas. He pushed the heat into his legs as he closed the distance on Turel again. Tisto threw his weight into a kick, and as he hoped Turel caught it and used it to start a throw. Off balance from this, Tisto used the opening to throw a right hook into Turel’s ribs. It was far from his best punch, but Turel let go of Tisto’s leg and back pedaled.

Tisto took the reprieve provided to step back as well, setting back into a proper stance. Turel is almost too good at being defensive. And I don’t know if I am strong enough to just break through. Even with that thought the boxer knew he couldn’t win by playing defensive against someone as clever as Turel. I can’t out trick him, and I don’t think I am any better on defense than he is. So I wouldn’t be able to force him to be the attacker. Turel for his part, took the second to catch his breath from the blow. It was only a few heart beats, but it was enough for when Tisto came back in with another flurry of jabs. Fist met palm as more were slapped away and Turel was again forced to move back. Tisto feigned a cross that Turel sensed was a trap, letting it connect with his left forearm instead of trying to throw the Kiffar again. The Jedi Master tried to take the offensive, throwing out a jab of his own only for it to meet an incoming body as the boxer refused to go on the defensive. It hit Tisto’s ribs, but Turel was not able to put as much force as he wanted to into the blow.

Tisto continued with a steady stream of unrelenting jabs, each time one was knocked aside his other fist followed it. A sensation like being stabbed in his left shoulder flared to life suddenly, so Tisto called on the Force, letting the heat roll over his body. It pushed the pain away even as more stabbing sensations stuck. His arms, his legs, his ribs, one after the other flared with pain only for a soothing heat to wash over them and end it. Turel frowned as his illusions of pain were snuffed out.

“Wait!” The Jedi Master called out. He send out a mental command to Grinder, then went back to talking. “What?”

Tisto stopped his advance. “Come on old man,” he grinned. “You are one of the most prominent Jedi in the Brotherhood. Fake pain right?”

“Let me guess,” Turel rolled his eyes. “You trained for that trick too?”

The boxer nodded, somewhat proudly. “Not feeling pain has been like my whole thing for most of my life. Well that and not dying.”

“Oh,” Turel shook his head. “I guess a fair fight against you was not in the cards.”

Tisto, trying to mimic Turel’s earlier statement, put a hand to his chest. He did a far worse job of pretending to look hurt. “I can’t believe you would say that about me. I only do fair figh--”

A searing jolt slammed into Tisto’s back. He recognized the feel of electricity, but it was much stronger than traditional shockboxing gloves. It coursed through him, and the Kiffar felt himself lock up. Grinder!

Turel, his distraction having worked, slammed a fist into Tisto’s gut. Grinder did not let up on pushing its electrostaff into Tisto’s back. The Kiffar struggled against the pain, reaching out to the Force. The boxer had one trick left, and in agony he grabbed hold of the Force and thought a single command.

SLEEP

Turel watched as Tisto’s body went limp and crashed into the hot floor. “Grinder stop! We gotta get him up!” Grinder put down his staff as Turel grabbed Tisto’s left arm starting to lift him up from the ground. I am so sorry! The Jedi master sent into Tisto’s mind.

AWAKEN

Tisto’s eyes shot open and he spun on a very helpful Turel. He hit his idol in the jaw with a right cross knocking the man away. Grinder was quick to pick up the staff again, readying it to distract Tisto and help Turel. Turel stumbled back a few steps tasting blood in his mouth.

Tisto, shaking, smiled. “Aight. I think I’m done. Good match Turel.”

With that, he walked back towards the exit. “And no, we aren’t talking about what was in my head. I’m going to find a bacta tank. Only my hair should be as red as I am right now.”