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.]

Azler Wilder strolled through the transparisteel doors of the Combat Center at a brisk pace. Hands clasped loosely at his back, Brotherhood-issued black robes tailing behind. His grey-blue eyes scanned the occupants systematically, evaluating each for their potential as an opponent. Though he had only returned to the Brotherhood recently, the Krath was making extensive use of this training hall. He had found it rarely lacking for competition, and today was no exception; it was abuzz with activity, with members from all seven Clans engaged in exercises.

‘Dark Council says ‘Jump’ and the Clans say ‘How high?’’ Wilder thought to himself as he crossed onto the sparring mats and passed a pair of Twi’lek grappling on the floor. Truthfully, he was here for the same reason. The Brotherhood put out the call for the Clans to present their members for testing, and he was the new guy; it just so happened his own goals aligned with those of his compatriots. Improving his own combat prowess was the ultimate goal, and if all the Clans were going to send their best here to fight, what better opportunity would there be?

Unfortunately, though the quantity of the combatants was high, the quality was not what he had expected. He was struggling to find someone worthy of the challenge not already engaged. As he reached the opposite end of the hall, he noticed the Medical Center was open and occupied. Standing in the doorway conversing with one of the attending staff was a Human man wearing the armor of a Taldryan field medic, though it looked slightly modified. On his belt Wilder could see a pair of beautiful blades, as well as a holstered blaster pistol.

‘Is he here for combat? Interesting.’ The Sith thought as he began to approach.

---

Narman Losa scanned through the datapad quickly, searching for a few key details amongst the rest. The attendant in front of him continued to speak, but he had gathered all the information he needed from them. One of his subordinates was floating unconscious in the bacta tank adjacent to the pair; he just needed to ensure the care he was receiving was satisfactory. Though this facility boasted its impartiality, and had a history of backing up that claim, the Doctor couldn’t help but wonder if his patient would be better off back in Taldryan space. This was a pitfall of all skilled medical practitioners, always believing you are the one best suited for treating a patient, even if it's yourself.

He looked up and realized that not only had the attendant finished speaking and moved on, but another figure was now approaching him from outside the Medical Center. Though initially appearing to be Echani, Narman determined there was at least one other species present. He had silver hair that ran down to his shoulders and black robes that identified him as a member of the Brotherhood, but not what Clan he called home. A midnight blue lightsaber hilt swung gently at his hip.

“What’s up, Doc?” Wilder called out as he passed through the threshold of the Medical Center. Narman locked the datapad and set it down before turning to address the newcomer.

“Are you looking for me, Soldier?” The Lieutenant Colonel spoke with a tone of authority, though in reality he had little here on Arx.

“Not a soldier, but a fighter.” The Sith replied, now examining Narman up close. He could see an experienced veteran beneath the graying hair and wrinkles. “ Any chance you’re up for a match?” He motioned back through the doorway towards the mats.

“I’m not here for training, just to check on my patient.” Wilder’s shoulders sank in disappointment. “ However, if you wish to spar, I’ll indulge you.” Now the Krath grinned with excitement.

“Excellent, I was worried I’d be leaving without a fair challenge.” The two men began walking out onto the mats, the Human leading the way. Narman positioned himself close to the target dummies, with Wilder standing opposite him. He pointed over to the signs on the wall displaying the rules of the Combat Center.

“Try not to cut me in half.” The Krath smirked in response, swinging his robe out of the way and placing his hand on the hilt. After a few tense moments of staredown, Narman quickly drew his blaster pistol. In that same instant, Wilder unclipped the hilt from his belt and ignited the blade, bringing it up just in time to deflect the first bolt away from his face.

”But blasting me in the face is perfectly fine?” Calls out the warrior, deflecting the next two shots that follow up.

”I can patch that.” Reassures the Doctor, an amused, if slightly impassive, smile crossing his lips.

Another volley of bolts were fired his way with the Hybrid swatting them away, the slightest of additional delay on his end due to ensuring that the blasts didn’t hit any of the surrounding practitioners - something that his mind quickly figured was part of his current foe’s planning.

In truth, part of the Krath did not mind this exercise, as deflection was a key capability worth honing and against a living, unpredictable, target was always best, but that practice he could have achieved at a dive bar somewhere less reputable with a few unflattering words.

However, the blades at the Veteran’s side had intrigued him and given him hope for more. During his years in the Brotherhood long ago, he had learned a lot about its systems and workings, including its reward system, and he knew that back in the day those purple and blue blades were held in high regard. The question that hung in the air like the Sword of Damocles was what were they rewarded to this man for?

As blaster shot after shot flew off to the side, knocked away by the Priest, his gaze stayed focused on the Human’s, but to his dismay and joy in equal measure, there was only focus - no sign of boredom or anxiety, something to give away that the man was fearful or hoping for the situation to change. It was clear that Azler would be the one to make a move first in this standoff.

Abruptly adjusting the angle of his blade far in excess to his previous blocks, the new deflection angle threw the bolt back at its owner, but the Human was quick, likely prepared for this exact moment, his free hand reaching out to snatch the dummy beside him and pull it in front, stopping the blast.

Still, the adjustment broke the rhythm and Wilder was quick to launch himself forward to close the gap, the blade reversing direction as the Priest attempted a backhanded slash coming off the moment of his previous swing.

The Lieutenant Colonel on the other hand preferred their distance and, while unable to stop its diminishment, did stop its erasure as he tilted the dummy once more, moving himself as well, to utilize the body as a makeshield stand-in and take the blow for him again. The fire in the Echani’s eyes was clear as the blue blade burned through a portion of interloper, an enjoyment at this, but his own reaction time was tested, the Human’s blaster raised again and fired, forcing him to duck down.

To the entertainment of a few onlookers around them, this three-person dance continued for retaliation after retaliation between them; Azler swiping at the man, Narman blocking with the dummy and shooting around it, Wilder quickening himself to avoid the direct hit, again and again, until it was clear that this would not last as the poor interloper between them was chipped away at.

Quickly raising a foot up, Narman slams it into the doll and launches it forward into the Priest, the abruptness of the action making up for its lack of precision and forcing him to dodge to the side, the clattering noise behind him drawing his attention for one moment too long as when he expects to hear the sound of a blaster to react to - instead he feels the sting of a blade slice into his right arm, just above the elbow. Jerking away, he takes a few steps back to see a double-ended knife being spun between the fingers of the veteran, prepared for another attack if the Sith pushed forward instead.

A bladed wound, surprising, but he supposed that if he was actively carrying two such weapons, it only makes sense he knows how to use th-

Sizzle

Glancing down, the Priest sees his saber slicing the floor next to him.

”Do you happen to know what your brachioradialis is for?” Inquires the Human, his tone carrying the smugness of one who knows the answer.

A silent, dirty look is shot the man’s way faster than the blaster bolts from moments before.

”I’m sure the slacking arm gives it away. What I doubt is given away is the numbness the rest of your body will start feeling soon from the infection.”

”I can’t decide if I’m thrilled or disappointed to see you’re every bit as lethal as I had hoped.” States the Krath dryly.

”I may not know what Clan you’re from, but I can tell by the movements you’re not new here, so I’ll do you the small kindness of telling you you’ve only got a few minutes to get whatever enjoyment out of this you can before you wake up somewhere else.” Warns Narman.

”Once upon a time, Satal Keto was my home before it was attacked. From there, I bounced between Plagueis and Arcona a few times, with a short stint in Odan-Urr when I needed a break from the two. Eventually I realized I needed some more literal ‘me’ time and set out on my own quest away from the Brotherhood, but old friends and new circumstances have brought me back, so now I work under the banner of Vizsla.” Offered Azler, his gaze drawn to his hand as he experimented for a few moments, taking advantage of the ‘kindness’ while he could, unknowingly having sated the man’s idle curiosity in exchange. He couldn’t lift his forearm, though he did have use of his fingers. He could manage a hard swing, but wild, just short of directionless…

Looking up to the Doctor, clearly happy to let the Krath’s mouth deduct from the poison’s timer and in no rush, the Echani gritted his teeth. He got his wish to face a strong opponent, and even while he acknowledged that the man had outplayed him, his rebellious desire to overcome all odds still roared at him to give it his best shot.

Now or never.

The lightsaber blade crashed down with such power and velocity that, even having seen the attack coming, Narman barely dodged out of the way in time. Immediately the weapon swung up for another strike, this one finding purchase on the backplate of the Lieutenant Colonel’s armor. He rolled to the left and grasped the last remaining target dummy, resorting to a tried and true tactic while he plotted his next move. But the Krath continued the momentum, refusing to allow Narman any space to utilize the blaster. He was channeling the Force throughout his whole body now, more than he had done in a long time. The poison was still spreading, but its effects were being delayed, at least for now.

‘Got to end this quickly. Don’t know how long I can keep this up.’ Azler thought as he leapt forward with incredible speed and cleaved the target dummy in two. Narman had anticipated the attack, intending to side-step and make another incision with his dagger, but the azure blade caught him in the abdomen instead. This slash penetrated clean through the armor and the Taldryanite felt the instant searing heat of the wound. He fell backward, off of the sparring mats and into the locker area, dropping the dagger in the process.

All the other combatants in the Training Hall had long stopped their activities and were gathered along the perimeter walls, observing the fight between the two men; partially out of curiosity and partially for their own wellbeing. A Rodian attempting to get something from his locker scurried away as the fight shifted into the area. Narman rolled beneath a pair of parallel benches and quickly pushed himself to his feet. He went to reach for the amethyst kukri on his belt, but had no time, as the Krath had once again closed the gap. He was pushing his body close to its limits, the Doctor could see the sweat streaking down his face. Even so, he had the upper hand in the engagement and was pushing Narman back.

‘My first priority is eliminating the lightsaber,’ The Lieutenant Colonel proposed as he slid back, dodging another series of nearly lethal strikes from his opponent. ‘Not only does it render my blaster useless, it also prevents me from getting close enough to incapacitate him.’ Continuing backwards, he noticed they were approaching the locker that the Rodian was using. When Azler next lunged, he seized the opportunity and gripped the locker door with both hands, swinging it open right into the face of the Hybrid.

His Force abilities already strained by the poison and his aggressive attacking style, the Krath was only able to pull back at the last second. Though he avoided major injury, his vision went white for a moment and he stumbled back. Narman went directly for the wrist, applying pressure onto the key joints and tendons. The hilt released from his grip, and he kicked it away. It clattered into the corner of the room, inert. Azler shook away the momentary daze and spun, bringing up his leg and kicking his Human opponent square in the chest. He slammed into the wall of lockers and then the ground. The Krath looked over at his lightsaber, then back at Narman, who was slow to his feet.

“You sure that was a good idea? I’m better with my fists.” Azler quipped, grinning and activating his shockboxing gauntlets. A blue glow began to emanate from them as he flexed his fingers. He stepped forward and suddenly wavered, feeling a pulse of the poison coursing through his body. His Force exertion was now strictly combating the debilitation, no longer enhancing his abilities, and his damaged arm was not accurate, to say the least.

You’re in pretty poor shape. If you were at full strength, perhaps you would have bested me easily.” Narman hypothesized as he drew the amethyst kukri from his belt. For a beat, the two men locked eyes and said nothing. The whole room was silent, watching and waiting. The Human moved first, closing the small gap between them and slashing out with the ornate blade. Azler anticipated the strike, bringing his good arm up to catch the weapon and simultaneously swinging his damaged arm wide. Narman tried to dodge but his opponent swept at his legs, causing his balance to falter. The gauntlet connected with his ribs and released a burst of electricity that crackled across his abdomen. The Doctor instantly stiffened, temporarily losing control of his motor functions, and crashed backwards onto the floor. The Krath leapt forward and kicked the kukri out of Narman’s partially closed grip. He crouched down over his opponent and raised his fist, waiting.

“You were saying?” He grinned again, but was forced to hold his arm against the wall to steady himself. The Lieutenant Colonel blinked as he regained use of his limbs and raised his hand in surrender.

“Alright, I yield. You win.” He slowly pulled himself to his feet, just in time to catch Azler as his legs buckled beneath him. Narman pulled his opponent's arm over his shoulder and began walking back towards the Medical Center. “Now let's get you treated before you lose consciousness.”