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 Bridges.

High-suspended walkways cross and weave through multiple levels of platforms. Some are solid, metal and duracrete crafting an unmoving foundation. Others are mere rope and wood, swaying with even the most gentle of breezes.

Below the walkways is a void filled with mist, the ground unseen for combatants and spectators alike. Periodic ripples of electrical energy can be seen through the mist, hinting to the deadly nature of the arena floor below.

“Sir, we are almost in position.”

Halcyon opened his eyes at the trooper’s words, bringing himself back to center. The shuttle barely vibrated under the soles of his feet, a testament to the upkeep of the vessel, but time and experience still allowed him to read its movements. The shuttle had begun a slight descent, although it had also begun to throttle-back on its speed ever so slightly.

As Halcyon rose, the trooper came over to him with large white belt held in his hands. “Lord Halcyon, if I may?” the trooper asked, motioning with the belt to his waist. Halcyon lifted his arms, allowing the trooper to attach the belt just above his own equipment-laden belt. “This is a specialized repulsor belt, made to work within ten-feet of the ground for up to ten seconds.”

The opening of the shuttle hatch, and the roar of a crowd, quickly answered Halcyon’s next question. The trooper saw the realization in his eyes, as he continued his explanation, “You will be disembarking momentarily, Lord Halcyon. The belt will allow you to safely land at your destination.”

Karking spectacle, Halcyon grumbled to himself, moving towards the back of the shuttle. Back in my day…, but the thought was never completed as he jumped out of the shuttle, sensing the trooper’s words before the word “jump” has escaped his lips.

Halcyon saw the crowd below him, surrounding the edges of Arx Colosseum, as he dove for the middle. He tightened his limbs together, turning himself into as much of a dart-like shape as he could, treating his body as he would a starfighter. His cloak was kept still and taut to his body with an invisible force as he maneuvered himself to a landing spot. He saw an endless amount of bridges crisscrossing the length of the Colosseum, Idris’ ‘vision’ now becoming perfectly clear to him.

He eyed what seemed to be a sturdy set of platforms a few levels down, below a number of rope and wood-based bridges near the top. Sending the right angle, he grabbed hold of his cloak and spread his arms, the wind gusting in and billowing it open. Halcyon fought to hold onto the cloak as the force of the wind threatened to throw him off course. Using invisible strands of energy, Halcyon both guided and slowed his descent, managing to land on the platform without toppling over or needing to his the repulsor belt.

Managing a deep breath, Halcyon quickly surveyed his surroundings, taking in the structure of the place, while also trying to find his opponent. He heard her before he saw anything, a stream of expletives raining down around him, most in a language he wasn’t familiar with. Looking at where he could hear the sound, he was able to make out the form of the other person. Forest-green dreadlocks framed a delicate orange-hued faced, that was currently twisted in anger as the tore a large black-unit off their back and dropped it on the ground.

Halcyon’s mental rolodex whirled quickly, the image of the Arconan Proconsul popping into his head. He watched as she methodically worked on the unit on the ground, a tripod suddenly appearing and extending, as she slammed a heavy repeating-blaster atop it.

“Anyone fraking around so we can start this thing,” she called out, using the tri-pod to scan her surrounding with the blaster.

Halcyon moved a little further down the platform, holding his cloak around him as he activated his camouflage system and tamped down his own presence within the Force.

Good choice of hair colour.

Diyrian’s head snapped up at the words filling her head. “Not another kriffin’ jedi,” she grumbled as she kept scanning around her. “Ya know, we should probably start fighting or something, before the head honcho throws something else at us.”

Trying to keep himself concealed, Halcyon leapt upwards, angling towards the same structure that his opponent was on. He wasn’t expecting the gravel of the ground, as the shifting stones gave him away. The blaster turned with alacrity, spewing out powerful blasts of deadly energy. Halcyon dropped his concealment at the same time a marbled-hilt slapped into his palm and ignited into emerald light. The blaster fire was slower than a regular blaster, but each bolt significantly more powerful as Halcyon worked to bat each one away.

With the wave of a hand, Halcyon sent the mobile generator careening over the edge. Diyrian’s quick thinking saved her blaster as the tripod followed alongside the generator into the abyss below.

“Yer an old guy,” Diyrian exclaimed as she finally saw who she was facing, moments before an invisible fist slammed into her gut.

She hit the platform hard, her jacket affording her some protection against the patch of gravel she skidded backward against. If the wind hadn’t already been knocked out of her, it surely would have then. Normally with a blow like that, she would have tucked and rolled with it, hopped back up on her feet but… Resting her head back on the duracrete, the faux-Zelosian groaned and risked a few seconds of staying where she was just to check her mentality before she wrecked herself here. There wasn’t any sugarcoating it. Diy knew she came in hot for this match.

Not even two minutes after entering the arena through one of the entrance gates did she hear a loud cracking sound followed by the entire rope bridge jostling wildly. By the time she whipped her head around to see what happened, all that was left behind her was a suspiciously KX-series security droid-shaped hole— seconds too late to see him fall. Glancing over the woven rope edge, all she could focus on was the mist curling lazily below the network of bridges and the arcs of electricity lashing angrily in its folds. No companion in sight.

So, yes, she was angry. And don’t fracking tell her 4R-7H3R was just a droid.

“I am beginning to wonder if I should say so, if it would lead to you continuing this fight.”

Diyrian jolted upright, twisting onto her side and propping up on her elbow in almost a casual lounging position were it not for the repeating blaster still in her hands and her furrowed brow. It didn’t take her long to realize the man must have probed her consciousness while she had laid there unmoving, however brief it was. The sound of gravel crunching under approaching bootfalls quelled as the human halted a few paces away. She had to crane her head back to look up at him and his too-perfect green hair, now visible in the sunlight and out from under his cloak’s hood.

“Sorry, was just busy thinkin’ how most blokes who sweep me off my feet buy me dinner first,” Diyrian quipped, shooting the older sapient a grin. “Name’s Diyrian Grivna, but ya can call me Diy. And you are?”

The man paused and blinked, seemingly surprised if for a moment that the present Proconsul of Arcona did not seem to recognize him. His saber arm lowered only a fraction from his half-ready stance, a clear sign that he was mindful of the chance the Kiffar could open fire on him. “Hal—”

He sidestepped to the side and barely batted aside an overpowered bolt with his emerald blade, deflecting it down into the duracrete where he had stood heartbeats ago. Diyrian loosened the overcharged valve on her T-21 swiftly as she pushed herself up into a kneeling position. Her finger kept the trigger compressed, maintaining a steady supply of pressure on her opponent. Not the speediest attack, the power behind the bolts left a lengthy enough recovery period with each deflection that Halcyon’s advancement was hindered, keeping him and his saber at bay. The faux-Zelosian knew this tactic had an expiration date. It wouldn’t be long before the blaster ran out of juice and she’d need to abandon it.

She stiffened slightly as the human’s green eyes met her aquamarines. A flick of his hand and an arc of electricity zapped forth. It struck her blaster and crackled through the weapon, shocking not only her hands and shoulder but the power cell within it. Exploding, shrapnel grazed her skin, cutting into her jacket as flames scorched it. Diy jolted back and threw the weapon aside, reeling from the shock of the assaulting combination.

Halcyon took the opportunity to advance, capitalizing on the woman’s off-kilter balance. He swept forward with tight coils, causing Diyrian to throw herself backward in a somersault to evade the blows before reaching for the holsters on her belt once she was upright. The Force-user quickly intercepted, tugging her feet out from under her with an abrupt yank pulling her back farther until she slipped off the platform.

Her hands caught the ledge when the Force’s grasp around her ankles subsided, leaving her dangling in open air. She gasped, a small noise of surprise and desperation. Her fingers bit into the rough surface of the duracrete, the loose gravel hindering as much as the cracks provided purchase. Glancing below her with gritted teeth, her muscles tugging on the fresh burn on her arm, Diy spotted a bridge a few meters below her. The angle was off though. If she dropped from where she was, she would need to hit the guardrail and throw her weight forward into a roll.

A chunk of duracrete and durst fell from above her. She looked up to see Halcyon peering down from above. “Declare defeat, and I may offer you a hand up.”

“Not gonna happen, Hal,” Diy grinned.

Then, she let go.

Dropping through the air, she struck the landing as planned, the athletic woman no stranger to urban parkour. A chunk of the wall gave way under her weight, her foot slipping with it and dipping back out into the abyss. As she started to plummet once more, a metallic hand grabbed her pinwheeling arms, saving her from certain death. Breathing heavily with adrenaline, Diy looked up in surprise and spotted the familiar silver and gold plated KX-series droid.

“Artie…”