Two towering, tinted, transparisteel doors slide open to grant you access to the central chamber of the Combat Training Halls. The main room is wide and open and as large as as a holoball field. Tall walls stretch towards a domed ceiling that is made up of rows of ambient lights that spread out and fill the room with soft even lighting that eliminates any shades or shadows. Those same walls are lined around the perimeter with racks and stacks of varied weaponry: everything from swords and polearms to rifles and flamethrowers.

There are two signs that hover over each weapon rack to create an alternating motif in the Combat Training Hall: “No Explosions” and “Accorded Neutral Territory”. While the first is fairly obvious, the second speaks to the single law of the Training Halls: all members of the Brotherhood are welcome, and no member is to be killed or maimed without incurring the wrath of the Grand Master and the Inquisitorius.

A trio of training dummies are statically set up and spread out in a line, each made out of a blend of alloys and padding that can withstand blows from any standard weaponry with the exception of lightsaber blades. To the side of the dummies, a large sparring mat has been stretched out to create a larger footprint than the typical shockboxing ring. The padding is good for helping teach new combat students how to take a fall without injury and offers firm footing, but the hard rubber mat is hardly forgiving.

Behind the sparring area is a door that leads to a small archives that combat students can use to view holorecordings of fights and duels from the past as well as relevant information on combat tactics, techniques, and forms. On the opposite side of the archives at the far end of central room is the locker room that members can safely store their equipment.

The final and probably most important element of the Combat Training Hall is the onsite Med Ward. The maglock door is sealed off and can only be opened by an attending Medic. The Medical facilities feature state of the art bacta tanks for recovery and aftercare. A combination of observation and waiting room rests adjacent to the recovery center and features two large monitors that display a live feed of the central room.

The Combat Halls are staffed around the clock, allowing combat students and mentors alike to come and go as they please at odd or regular hours. It also available for members looking to prove their worth to compete in the Antei Combat Center.

[Venue Note: Weapons incorporated into your match are allowed to be used, even if not listed on your Loadout for the match itself. Skill usage and all other ACC rules and guidelines still applies.]

If there was one thing Tisto did not expect the Arx Training Center to be, it was empty. The equipment appeared to be covered in a fine layer of dust, with the worst of it being the door of the Medward. To the boxer it seems this place had gone unused for quite some time, the silence of the room pressing on him as much as any weight in here could have. Still, there was one notable exception to the emptiness, a schedule, bright, shiny and new. His name was the first on it, alongside that of the Consul of Arcona, even if she was running late. The next fight wouldn’t take place for days.

Can I really fault anyone for this? After the chaotic nightmare of the different arenas for Singularity, would anyone really choose to come here? Must be why the Combat Master was insistent this place get used.

It was an odd position Tisto found himself in. Many members of House Hoth had said that this invitation was part of the corruption Odan-Urr found itself in with all of its agreements to work with the Brotherhood, yet the Quaestor had one associate in Arcona he didn’t feel like cutting ties with. I wonder if she will ever be a friend.

The door to the hall opened with an audible whirr, and Tisto turned to see a woman almost a foot shorter than himself and far younger. The Consul was armed to the teeth it seemed, a lightsaber on her belt alongside a set of blades, while a gun could be seen slung over her shoulder. A Cythraul started to follow her only to have a sneezing fit as it entered the hall. The Kiffar shook his head at the state of this place yet again.

“It’s okay Frond you can wait outside,” the amount of cheer in the Consuls voice felt eerie in the otherwise empty room. It seemed the hairy thing did not need much in the way of convincing to leave the dust filled area as it chose an almost comically small metal crate to squeeze itself into just outside.

The door shut with another audible whirr leaving just Tisto and the Consul. There was not enough time for an uncomfortable silence to settle in before she turned around with an unnervingly cheerful smile on her face.

“You must be Tisto,” the cheer never left her voice, and that alone sent a chill down the boxer's spine. “Thank you so much for fighting Tiexsema. I heard a few good things about ‘Commander Greencheeks’. Oh where are my manners? I am Zuza!”

Unsure of how to approach this oddly cheerful Arconan, Tisto simply nodded. How do I even begin to talk to this one?

Seemingly undeterred by what was a silent room, Zuza went on. “Can we be friends? I know Anders set all of this up for training, but it would be good to make some friends from the sister clan, you know?”

The boxer offered up a shrug. “So what do you want me to do then?”

Zuza’s cheer stopped for a second, one merciful heartbeat to Tisto as the silence seemed to draw close yet again. Then she continued. “Want? To be friends duh. I know you are friends with Diy and--”

Zuza continued to talk, but at that point Tisto had stopped listening. Does the Consul of Arcona know so little about her Proconsul?

He found himself clenching his fists as she went on. Tisto knew he was not Diy’s friend, after all she never wanted anything from him. The cheer in Zuza’s voice when talking about Tisto and Diy’s exploits did not help at all. Nothing like being reminded how little use I actually am.

“- and so you shot your old enemy saying something like-”

Tisto swung at Zuza as she continued to talk. It was slow and telegraphed, with no intention of connecting. Yet it had its desired result. Zuza stopped talking as she got out of the way. For a brief second, he could see her jaw drop and eyes grow wide. In the next she had already pulled out the pair of blades, readying them.

“Enough. You are annoying. I am here to fight you. That is all.” Tisto had not meant to sound so harsh when he said that.

“Fine.” Tisto felt his heart fall at the brief hint of sorrow in her voice.

Shockboxing gloves crackled to life, buzzing with energy and pushing his forearm into her wrist as she brought the dull side of the blade toward his shoulder. It shoved it off course, giving him room to swing and kick the short Human backwards.

She gave no resistance to the shove, moving with it and leaning herself forward, allowing her footing to compensate for the shift. The lean gave Zu the ability to press for more space ducking below Tisto’s following attack and getting behind him long enough. From there it was as easy as dipping in and out of his range, keeping far enough away that neither of their blows would ever truly land enough to progress the fight. Tisto pushed forward, inward, but even pulling on the strings of the Force wasn't quite worth it. Zuza was actively avoiding harming him. He couldn’t do much but wait for the right moment to slip between her defence. With that plan decided, it was much to his horror and grim satisfaction that Arcona’s Consul began speaking again.

“Y’know if we’d have chatted a bit beforehand I’d have grabbed blades that weren’t so sharp. Or somethin’. So I could actually hit you but then again Diy says you’re real good in a fight so I guess-”

It was blissfully easy to tune her out in the midst of their fight, continuing his pattern of deflecting Zuza’s series of attacks. Even holding back, she had enough force behind her swings that he could focus on them instead of the chatter. It was like a work exercise with faint background noise. Step, swing, buzz, slash, dodge, dip, step. Like a dance except with blades and static.

Well, until-

“I just don’t get it!” She stepped back, deftly avoiding a swing and frustratingly not taking advantage of the gap, remaining at Tisto’s hip. “Why are you mad about me talking about Diy?”

Tisto paused for a moment, before gritting his teeth. How wasn’t this obvious? He wasn’t mad he didn’t care. They weren’t friends!

Zuza rolled forward away from his grasping gloves, shooting a frown at him, “Seriously, she talks you up so much and you’re just rude. Which is fine usually, but-” The fizzing of electricity was uncomfortably close to her face, burning peach fuzz and loose hairs. Not that it really mattered, adrenaline rising and energy building within her. At least the fight made her feel something.

“At least when people are rude to me normally they bother to tell me why!”

It just didn’t make any sense. Zuza came here, knowing that name and hoping for at least a break. For some personal connection outside of the summit meetings, political meetings, war councils, treaties and trades that had become her life for the last year; And instead of a breath of fresh air, meeting someone new, a friend of a friend, she was facing down with someone who had no karks to give. Tisto couldn’t just be this, she knew Diy that much, but for some reason it was like he hated her.

Did he hate her?

The thought stopped her swing, pausing long enough that Tisto finally stepped close enough in to slam his leg into her stomach.Zuza exhaled harshly, stumbling back and out of reach once more. The wall was too close. She slashed forward, forcing Tisto back enough to dip under an arm. Smacking the dull back of the blade into his spine, the Arconan watched him turn around, barely avoiding headbutting the match-up holo display.

“Do you even care about Diy?”

She almost regretted the outburst until Tisto continued his silence. Zuza bore her teeth, yelling as she watched him close the gap again.

“AT LEAST SAY SOMETHING!”

That was difficult to ignore. Tisto grimaced, pushing out his left hand, palm towards Zuza. A heat washed over and through him as he did, the Force responding to his action. Zuza was pushed back a few feet, creating more distance between the combatants. A heartbeat of blissful silence passed, thought Tisto was sure she would go right back on her endless chatter. Finally, a genuine emotion from this overly bubbly child.

"Fine," the boxer replied quietly in his native Kiffar. It had been years since he spoke the language, but he did not feel like talking to someone so obnoxious in a way she could likely respond back. "You are a fool if you think Diy believes I am her friend. She has never once asked for anything. Don't insult me by thinking I am remotely foolish enough to believe otherwise."

The look on Zuza's face was almost worth risking the chance she could understand him. For a brief moment at that start of his reply she seemed almost relieved to be able to talk. That soon gave way to narrowed eyes, a quickly reddening face and a clenched jaw. Tisto allowed himself to smile at that sight. At least in this instance Zuza gave him a look he could understand instead of the 'friendly' face she put on at the start of this.

"You!" Zuza sputtered. "Karking! Gah!"

The Consul raised her weapons, only to stop halfway through. She seemed to be hesitating, her face an ever-changing ball of emotions. Given that this was supposed to be a training event, Tisto took the opportunity to strike. He waved his right hand in the direction of the training dummies, watching as the Force shoved the Consul into them. The boxer raised an eyebrow at that, surely, she would have had some response to try and avoid that. She is supposed to be the leader of a whole clan, yet she seems to be struggling somewhere.

Tisto approached as Zuza stood back up, pointing her blades in his direction. He could feel as she stared up at him, even as she kept her head facing down. A sharp heat spiked inside his mind and the boxer braced himself, letting the Force flow through him to put up a barrier. It responded just in the nick of time as the Consul shot forward with unexpected speed. Aided by her boots, Zuza covered the distance and slammed the flats of her blades into Tisto's defense. The blades stopped just shy, and she brought them back to swing again. Tisto caught her eye as she did, noticing that her eyes seemed to be welling with tears. That sight was repulsive, like something back from his youth. The boxer's nerve left him, and the barrier fell. A sharp and very recognizable pain in his face followed as the flats of Zuza's blades struck home.

The Kiffar took a step back, grabbing at his face. He felt a viscous warmth seep into his gloves as he did, and his nose was definitely not in the correct shape. It took him a second to feel the comforting heat of the Force. Yet even as he felt the pain in his face fade away, Zuza was not done with her assault. Blows quickly followed on his arms and legs, and the heat moved to cover those as well. Unfortunately for Zuza, she could not out pace Tisto's ability to numb his own pain with the Force. Yet even with that advantage Tisto struggled to find a will to continue the fight.

"Fine!" Tisto shouted in basic, his hands clashing against Zuza's next attack. Sparks shot up from where the gloves met the flats of blades. "I'll talk. Just tone it down."

Zuza released a breath, stepping back away from Tisto. Frustration had taken the lead and regret flooded her. This wasn’t how she wanted to go about… anything.

“I don’t want to force anyone to be friendly with me. I just-” She pushed hair out of her face with the back of a hand, careful with the still exposed blade, “I don’t get it.”

“What is there to get?” Tisto sighed, taking the moment to shake the strain out of his muscles, the warmth of the Force given the time now to work.

They were at an impasse for the spar, that much was obvious to him. Zuza could outstep him but Tisto was tough and would not be overpowered. The two created space between them, circling an invisible boundary that neither would cross yet. It was hard to tell who would truly win, if this was a true fight.

“What’s your deal with Diy?”

It wasn’t a true fight. The Arconan Consul had ensured that.

Tisto begrudgingly found the words, “I respect Diy. She’s weird for never asking anything of me, but I respect her. She’s not my friend though.”

Zuza frowned. Did Diy know this? She supposed she would but it bothered her. “Friendship isn’t about who does what for who. It’s bein’ there for people, trusting them, knowing if you need each other you will call. No price tag or contracts, just… trust and love.”

Tisto rolls his eyes, heaving a sigh. How would he explain this to her? Her head was in the proverbial clouds.

“Maybe in your view of things.” He eventually replied, raising his fists as the Force flared in warning of an incoming attack.

Zuza shot forward, brow furrowed with annoyance as she swung into the motions of combat, “That’s what friendship is.”

Tisto smacked her blade with a palm, forcing the momentum sideways. Zuza had to twist to not be pushed over. She twisted, remaining low to the floor. He charged to close the gap again, refuting, “Not to anyone who isn’t a child.”

Zuza, still moving abnormally fast, shoved her leg out. Tisto rolled forward, foot caught on hers and keening forward, but managing to remain upright with a few stumbling steps at least. He raised his fists to deflect an attack but the short Human wasn’t in his face. Nor.. anywhere near him. She’d already put most of the room between them. Tisto rose to his feet, waiting for the next attack. Sheathing her swords, the Consul glanced toward him and he lowered the guard. Her eyes were tired, an exhaustion hidden previously by either laugh lines beside her eyes, angry creases of the brow or the upset strain thinning her lips.

Zuza usually tried to hide it but for that moment couldn’t. She was sick of being alone and the one time she bothered to take time to try and meet new people, to spend time away from the politics and gossip and problems after problems… Her heart sank below her stomach. Enough was enough, evidently.

“I hope your next sparring match meets your expectations. I can’t.. Do this.” Zuza turned toward the door.

Tisto stood, bewildered now. “What?” At the lack of response he stepped further forward after her, not intent on catching her but thrown off by the sudden switch. “Hey-”

“I wasn’t just here to fight.”

Tisto would have responded, but between the sinking feeling in his own gut and the door being clicked shut before he could formulate one worth saying. He shook his head, looking toward the match board.

At least there was time to get some lunch and work out what the kark just happened before his next one.