Pulley-operated, mechanical-lifts descend into the earth below the Arena. The Abandoned Mines pre-date the Galactic Empire by thousands of years. Once used as mining routes, the long forgotten network of interconnecting tunnels has held stalwart against the sands of time. After exiting, the lift begins its retreat back to the surface. Sporadic crystals protrude from the walls to quietly radiate ochre light like naturally-forming torches. The small alcove gives birth to a maze of wide tunnels supported by old, steadfast wooden beams.The tunnels spider and split off into various directions, some leading to dead ends while others ultimately lead back to the central Mining Shaft.

The central Mining Shaft is square pit that descends into a deep pit that radiates a luminescent, cerulean glow from the horde of crystalized shards still growing below. The air hangs with a cool, windless chill. Stone stalactites hang ominously overhead, flanked by jagged jutters of rock and sediment that line the ascending walls.

To reach the surface, blocks of stone wide enough for two humans to stand side by side on, shift back and forth in a combination of a lateral and ascending patterns. Each cubic platform is controlled by a mechanical pulley and each cubic platform will eventually pass close enough to step over to another. The spacing and timing is not attuned to any formal pattern, giving equal balance to both Force users and Mundanes. Whatever your talents, the shifting cubes are the only way to ascend back to the Arena.

Holocam Drones flit about the caverns, recording a live video feed that is transmitted back up towards the surface and projected over two large holodisplays for the crowd to observe. Progress will be watched as members are tried and tested.

The Grand Master’s only concern is the resourcefulness and resilience of his members. Reaching the surface will be no easy task, and doing so will be the only way for fighters to move forward in the Tournament.

The Grand Master’s command faded and the groaning protests of aged pulleys swallowed the echo as the mines’ machinery lurched to life. The clanking of great, rusted chains spiced the cool air all about the combatants and the grinding of stone on stone rumbled deep within them all. Shi Long, having just made his way to the Central Shaft, peered upwards, spying through the gloom the cubic platforms that began to jut then retreat from the otherwise unscalable walls. The plumes of dust and pebbles which rained down around him at the appearance of each platform spoke to the indeterminable amount of years since the mines had last operated, but it seemed that not even time could resist Pravus’ will.

Shi blinked his eyes rapidly, coaxing his vision to become accustomed to the blued dimness around him, and a headache slowly began to bloom within his skull. He’d seen his hopes of being able to really cut loose dashed - the tournament’s rules dictated that no one was to be destroyed - and running around in the dark instead of fighting did not help brighten the Son of Sadow’s mood.

“So it’s to be a race, then,” the Long said to no one in particular as he craned his head upward with an exasperated sigh, the headache becoming more insistent, as if a splinter had lodged itself within his brain and was being jostled this way and that. His ire rose as he noted no immediate pattern to the platforms’ appearance. “It’s alright,” he growled, trying to calm himself. “I don’t have to be fast; I just have to be faster than him.” His thoughts strayed to Aabsdu, who’d strangely yet to appear but would be just as intent on making it topside as he.

Just then, one of the drones flitted around a bend in one of the horizontal shafts and sped towards Shi. Whether distracted by his rising frustration at the ridiculousness of the challenge, or from the headache that had so conveniently afflicted him, the Warlord was caught off guard. Cursing, Shi reached for the DX-13 at his waist. Fortunately, he stayed his hand, preserving the Grand Master’s means of viewing the proceedings.

The drone slowed and continued to approach him. The Long’s nerves danced along a razor’s edge, and he squinted through his pain and the dim blue light, focusing on the drone. He thought he saw a glimmer of motion reflected in the machine’s lens and began to turn at the sound of gravel crunching underfoot.

“Unngh...!” The splinter of pain in Shi’s head exploded into a railroad-spike of agony, driving him to one knee as the Dark Councilor materialized from the nothingness behind him, his face fixed as he concentrated on the Long. Aabsdu strode confidently towards the Sadowan, his physical revelation betraying the source of the assault on Shi’s mind. The Long grit his teeth against the intrusion, his anger stripping the Master At Arms of all his cloaks. Shi did not see his tormentor as a Dark Councilor to be obeyed, nor as a Master of the Force to be feared. Like him, Aabsdu was merely a man. A man who had the unfortunate luck of being in his way.

“You ought to stop...poking around where you... aren’t invited, Dupar,” the Long chided while tapping his temple with a crooked finger. “Here, there be dragons.”

BOOM!

Shi’s slugthower jerked and roared in his hand, newly drawn and fired at the mineshaft’s floor. The unexpectedly sharp report of the weapon seemed to have startled the Master, whose concentration waned for a moment. Holstering the slugthrower, the Long felt sweet relief as the spike of pain disappeared just as suddenly as it had appeared.

Recovering quickly, the Elder began to raise an arm, his own fingers hooked so his hand resembled the talon of an avian predator poised to strike.

Shi would not give him time. “Nope,” he spat and jerked the blaster from his waist, willing his legs to make him stand even as the weapon barked in his hand. A flight of sizzling hyphens screamed towards the Councilor’s hand, and bright orchids bloomed in front of him as the energy harmlessly dissipated. But, Shi’s ploy was effective as Aabsdu was forced to wince against the sudden brightness of the fusillade. The Master At Arms’ vision returned swiftly, but the Warlord was not immediately found. Shi had scrambled to the first platform and was climbing upwards.

Sound echoed through the vast central mining chamber, at once eerily quiet yet filled with an energy. The ancient chasm was a vast and dark void within which two points shined even darker than their surroundings.

Master Aabsdu Dupar gathered himself, willing his eyesight to recover from the brief shock and succeeding with little strain. This space was dark, a dim glow from crystals barely illuminating the ground at his feet, small pinpoints of light buzzing through the air to indicate holofeed cameras, and there, hundreds of meters above him, a blurred appearance of the outside world beckoning the Master at Arms to reach it before his opponent.

Shi Long was not a difficult man to find. Even in the pitch black, the man’s Force signature was a beacon. Aabsdu was no stranger to the Long stories despite little interaction with the Sadow organization. Only a few meters above, Long radiated his presence as he leapt from his first stone block to a second, closing the gap to the breach and widening his distance from Aabsdu.

More than the chaotic turmoil of the battlefield, this was an arena where the Dark Councillor prevailed. He grinned to himself, considering his actions. This was not a deadly hunt where each combatant hid from the other with the hopes of a surprise attack. It was a race. Aabsdu saw little need for subtlety.

He gathered himself, reared back, and jumped straight up as the first block craned toward him. A single silver beam sparked through the air as he landed, his lightsaber pulled into his right hand to spill light across the berth of the ascending platform. He wasted no time using the Force to aid his leap to the second block, knowing Long was following the Master at Arms’ ascent while speeding along his own. Long was a firm two steps ahead.

Again, Aabsdu grinned, calm and concentrated in the coolness of this space. He held no misconceptions of the Warlord’s abilities, but was equally confident in his own. He knew his power, his position, his abilities.

The Master decided to ensure his opponent was equally aware.

Dimming his blade as he put the weapon away, Aabsdu drew within himself and the Force, raised both hands in the air, and sent a bright cacophony of lightning sheering through the air above him. Stone sparked and air molecules sizzled as the arcs of energy zigzagged upward like a massive storm.

His timing was perfect.

Long’s body contorted as the lightning caught him midair and the man fell. No novice, Long rotated himself as he plummeted and reached out to grab the edge of a lower stone; his body slammed hard against the side but his grip held.

Long pulled himself onto the platform, breathing in the lifeblood of the Force to soothe the spasms surging through his body. A light plop and silverly glow revealed the figure of Aabsdu Dupar landing at the other edge of the block.

“I smell something burning,” the Master quipped as smoke wafted from the Sadowan’s lush yet now frazzled locks. He took on a ready stance with both lightsabers, one held defensively as the other primed for an attack.

Long’s draw was near instantaneous, his blaster pistol whipped and firing with the speed and accuracy of a trained marksman. Aabsdu glided between deflecting bolts and allowing them to whiz past, all the while noticing Long pulling his own lightsaber into his other hand and igniting the orange blade. Aabsdu increased his counter, whirling his blades around to bounce several bolts back at Long. The move was easily defended, but required enough of the Warlord’s concentration to allow the Master to close the distance between them.

Spinning both blades up and over, Aabsdu brought them down toward Long. The man dropped his blaster, forced to use both hands to hold his blade against the double downward slam.

Sparks flew as lightsabers clashed, silver and orange middling into a color that highlighted the will and determination etched into each fighter’s face. They fought not only for themselves but the Grand Master. More than personal honor was on the line; more than mere survival lay at the top of this cavern.

Yet Aabsdu believed his own will stronger; his loyalty to the Dark Council and need to prevail overwhelming. It fueled him, gave him strength, focus, and gave him a deep desire not to waste time playing swords when his real goal lay so far above.

This time the Master’s grin was visible to Long. Aabsdu’s grin was the last thing Long saw before the glow of the locked lightsabers started to rapidly expand and his world exploded into bright whiteness. The space around them instantly illuminated, stark shadows from the maze-like stone platforms thrown heavy against cave walls as the world of darkness turned into an equally invisible world of light.

—————

Hundreds of meters above, the crowd watched as the vliewscreens overexposed. The “Current Camera” switched rapidly as the Seneschal’s elaborate system attempted to locate a viewable angle. Some of the crowd, lacking a connection to the Force, sat at the edge of their seats, eager to know what was happening. Others reached out to the world within the pit, trying to sense the battle and determine the fate of its combatants.

In the high seat, Grand Master Pravus merely raised an eyebrow; no event unknown to him beforehand, no action surprising.

New color shone from the vliewscreens as one of the cameras switched to infrared. Two forms stood level with the lens. One stumbled back holding a bright singular beam of heat; the other one in each hand.

The doubly armed figure, Master Dupar, raised a leg and sent a hard kick into the chest of Shi Long. The Warlord stumbled and toppled over the side of the platform.

As the bright light that had enveloped the cavern dissipated and the various camera angles came back online, Aabsdu had already turned and started to leap frog his way toward the escape.

High above, the assembled Dark Jedi came to their feet as one, their collective gasps of surprise rolling over the Coliseum floor and down the Central Shaft, a wave of aural shock cascading throughout the mines. They watched, unblinking and gape-jawed, as the Warlord arced backward, first curving then straightening, an arrow hurtling towards certain death. The following silence that draped them was funereal. Even one so leashed to the Grand Master as Master Dupar should have known better than to make so blatant a mistake as this. His power was innate, earned. His position, however, was given, and so could be taken away.

Destroying Shi so early in the contest should have made that possibility a near-certainty, but Pravus’ unchanging expression, and the sound which answered their own, told the crowd they needn’t have worried.

-----

Laughter.

The howl of the wind filled Shi’s ears even as it lashed at his exposed skin. The sensation of vertigo that came with plunging through space was overwhelming, and the inevitability of the end weighed upon him in stark contrast to the freeing weightlessness of his descent.

Yet, it was in these moments before death that the Long had found joy, had felt the exhilarating fragility - the utter desperation - that came with clinging to life. His heart pounded and adrenaline flooded his body even as the Force leapt to his call, and his peal of mirth gave voice to his gratitude for Aabsdu. The man had unwittingly given Shi a reason to enjoy himself. Suddenly, the race was exciting for Shi, carrying the full weight of a traditional duel.

The dark side restored his vision and in an instant brought the details of the shaft into sharp relief. Stone formations, platforms and pulleys whizzed by, the cerulean glow below seeming to brighten in anticipation as it rushed to claim him. Shi spied a nearby chain flowing past him and reached for it, and felt a delicious wrenching in his shoulder as the links flew through his hand. His grip was sure, and his weight torqued the joint as he slowed his plunge to a pendulous stop. The Force continued to churn unabated through him, sending the sensation in his shoulder to a distant, far away place within him.

Smiling broadly, Shi looked skyward through the dark side’s lens at the irregular disc of light that was the outline of the shaft’s surface entrance. Aabsdu was more of an impression in the Force than a humanoid outline pressed against the wall, confidence and surety peppering the dark side as the Councilor negotiated the platforms, inexorably headed towards the finish. Shi’s gaze captured the tell-tale puffs of ground rock and pebble that blew from the walls moments before the emergence of a platform, and realized what had lent speed to Aabsdu’s ascent. The Master-At-Arms’ keen mind had sleuthed out that detail - minor to most of the combatants - which gave him the appearance of knowing beforehand where the next platform would appear. “Clever,” Shi rumbled, even as his eyes continued to scan furtively about. In the Warlord’s mind, the arena was his foremost concern, with Aabsdu being a secondary obstacle. It was better for his concentration, seeing as how he would not have the opportunity to deal with the Master as he’d normally prefer. Still, the Long realized that he’d need to eliminate any advantage the Councilor had - right after he’d made up some sorely needed ground.

Shi’s eyes spotted some pulleys a few meters below the Councilor’s position, then traveled down the length of the chain sprouting from them to his hand. He knew what he must do.

The Long deeply inhaled once, twice, then the still-ignited lightsaber in his free hand growled and flashed. The chain was neatly severed just below his body, the aged iron glowing orange-hot at the ends where Nenshogeru had effortlessly passed. The platform to which it was attached hung suspended for the briefest of moments, a compressed eternity before gravity asserted its grip and greedily snatched it towards the abyss. The counterweight followed the platform a second afterward, and as it fell, the still-attached chain began to spark as it rapidly slurped through the groaning pulley, yanking Shi upward with a lurch towards the rusted wheel-assemblage.

Shi had timed his release perfectly, allowing the violent whip-cracking of the action of the chain warping through the pulley to catapult him still higher. Wisps of gray and white smoke still trailed behind his singed hair, giving the Long the appearance of some grinning daemon, newly belched from the blue hell that was the crystalline pit. The Holocam Droid that zoomed in above him was not as lucky as the first one Shi’d encountered, as it was neatly clove in two by his ragged blade, exploding after he’d passed through the parted halves of the machine.

The din of the platform crashing far below, the clattering cacophony of the chain hurriedly passing through the pulley and the droid’s destruction diverted Aabsdu’s attention from his own climb. Shi noted the Master furtively seeking purchase within his skull once more. A difficult task for the Councilor, yes, but not impossible, barring distraction. The Long gave voice to his rage at the second intrusion, deactivating Nenshogeru and belting it while snatching his slugthrower from its well-worn holster with the speed of a seasoned gunslinger. He approached the terminus of his upwards arc, one that was taking him to a platform emerging from the wall perpendicular to the Councilor. He twisted mid-flight, arm outstretched, swinging the barrel towards the Master.

The man standing a dozen meters from him was of no consequence. The arena with its randomness was of no consequence. There was only his need - his singular desire - to win, at any cost. Aabsdu’s motivations were admirable, to be sure, but still - they were dependent on the approval of the Grand Master and his fellow Councilors.

The Dragon of Stone, however, was beholden to no one, and his defiant roar completed the demonic vision conjured by his earlier flight, the sound resounding loudly in both men’s ears thanks to the shaft’s acoustics. The man would not beat him. The arena would not beat him. His mind was set; his course, clear. He was as an engine of perpetual motion, the Force sustaining him even as it ravaged his body for strength. He would win. He must.

And as he jerked the trigger, any vestiges of doubt Shi might have held fled with the amusing realization that Aabsdu would find explaining his defeat to Pravus...cumbersome, at best.

BOOM!

The slugthrower rocked as Shi’s feet alit upon his platform. The Force, serving all but faithful to none, whispered salvation in the Master’s ear, causing him to draw his head back an instant before the slug fired from Shi’s weapon would’ve smashed through his temple. Instead, it impacted the wall, shattering the worn surface and making Aabsdu flinch reflexively as his face was struck by a smattering of debris. Shooting a murderous look at the Warlord, he was surprised to see that Shi’s returning glare did not reveal whether he’d missed on purpose or not.

BOOMBOOMBOOM!

His feet now fully set on a solid surface, Shi emptied the Enforcer, sending a stinging hive of buzzing metal Aabsdu’s way. Ready, the Councilor spread his arms, willing an aegis of unseen energy to envelop him. The slugs were halted and they plinked impotently at his feet. Shi discarded the slugthrower and bounded across the platforms, racing towards the corner where his wall met Aabsdu’s own. The Force, still raging through the Long, coalesced and rippled out of his palm - a palm that now slapped the wall holding the Councilor’s own perch. Shi’s will - though considerable - was nowhere near enough to bring the shaft tumbling down all around Aabsdu. It was enough, however, to dislodge the detritus that clogged the seams between the wall and the remaining platforms, and a fine, talcum-like cloud descended upon the Master, covering his robes in a dusting of powdered rock.

Shi did not trade barbs, did not wait to relish Aabsdu’s incredulous expression at realizing that his advantage was gone. Wheeling, the Long sped back towards the center of his wall and the platform upon he’d originally landed, only just dodging another torrent of lightning. Such prolonged use of the dark side would burn him out, and he would go willingly if it meant winning. Leaping upwards and diagonally, Shi clawed his way towards the growing light above them, scaling both platform and jutting rock formation alike. He sensed the Master a few meters behind, and to his right, but Aabsdu’s efforts would be too little, too late. Shi was too focused, stronger of body and more agile than the Councilor. The Force made those differences even more glaring, and the Long, registering the growing roar of the crowd above, sensed the end was near. His victory was all but assured.

The race was on as the crowd above recognized the final stretch, but to the opponents within the every brightening chasm the world around them was a blur. There was no galaxy at large, the highly illegal and dangerous Brotherhood furtively seeking to find its place within it. There was no Brotherhood of ever shifting clan allegiances, all jockeying for the top spot within the Grand Master’s eye or actively dismissing his relevance. There was merely this moment. This race. This person to beat, and in turn destroy.

Warlord Shi Long pushed forward, his lead a handful of meters that meant two platforms of executing perfectly timed leaps. A being without aid of the Force would have been able to traverse the gaps but at a much slower pace. These two opponents, trained and invigorated, never thought twice about the chance of missing a jump. Dupar needed to succeed else face embarrassment in front of his peers; Long craved the win and everything that would come with it. No words need be spoken. No threats; no shows of force. They knew what must be done.

Master Aabsdu Dupar lagged, infuriating himself over his wanton shows of strength for the thrill of the chase that had cost him the big picture view he’d so carefully calculated. He had thought to knock Long out and waltz to victory, thought Long intended the same, but knew now the Sadowan only wanted the win. Dupar was irrelevant. A blind disregard seen too often among the clans these days, in the Master at Arms’ view.

As the di Plagia slung another volley of force lightening, he felt the turmoil building within, the stress and fatigue overwhelming his sense of logic.

He had been made a fool. He had allowed the man who should bow in respect belittle not only his position but his intelligence. Worst yet, the High Lord had seen it all. Grand Master Pravus stood witness to his failure, and after so many years Dupar knew the Grand Master was not one to forget.

Long widened the gap. The Warlord was stronger and faster, more agile and nimble in every way. Aabsdu’s window of opportunity was rapidly closing, and he could feel his pride, cracked before every spectator above, wrenching control away from his usually calm reasoning.

If Aabsdu could not make it to the top before Long, he would do everything he could to prevent Long from reaching it at all.

He summoned the final vestiges of strength and resilience within him, drawing the tendrils of the Force around him in a tight cocoon, and primed himself for a desperate last effort. The next stone slab swung toward him and he leapt, boots tapping the surface but for an instance as he instantly vaulted himself further into the air. He lunged with lightning speed toward the slab upon which Long was about to land.

Yet he did not intend to land as well. He did not intend to draw blades and delay the inevitable.

Aabsdu only needed to reach the slab's bottom, and he did.

The Master at Arms drew near the stone, already feeling the force of gravity overcoming his leap, and drew back both arms to throw his hands forward. A dense funnel of energy blasted forward into the bottom of the platform just as Shi Long landed on it.

The carved rock exploded in every direction. Bits of hard debris peppered both Long and Dupar as the platform was obliterated. Aabsdu's wave of telekinesis had rocketed him in the opposite direction: down. Long, meanwhile, was thrust sideways as his footing disappeared. He grunted as his body slammed hard into the side of the cavern, knocking away his breathe, his vision dimmed from blood as his body tumbled down the rock wall.

Aabsdu fell, robes tattered, skin scratched and bruised. He fell down, but his gaze turned upward to the light above. Within that light was a great and powerful darkness. It was a darkness he took strength from; a darkness he remained as close to as possible. Now, if he survived this night, it was a darkness that may swallow him and never let go. He cared not, already accepting whatever fate the Force would bring.

As the Master at Arms' exhaustion overcame him and consciousness slipped away, he knew nothing but falling.

—————

Shi Long snapped to attention as the stone wall banged against his head not for the first time. His mind swirled as he gained his surroundings, instinct taking over, and the Warlord twisted so the next time he rolled around he planted his feet against the wall and pushed away. As if destiny demanded his victory, a platform hung waiting to receive him.

For a moment, Long lay, recovering his sense of time and place as he bid the Force to slow the myriad sources of bleeding across his body. Even bacta would not prevent the bruising this day had brought.

He finally brought himself to his elbows, then knees, then feet. The cavern had returned to its dim hum and glow as if they had never entered. The only evidence of their presence were four dangling iron chains from which carved stone had previously hung. No longer.

Long first looked then felt for Dupar's presence, but found nothing. He wasted no more time on the thought and started to again make his way up.

The shine of lights scattered throughout the stands was overwhelming after so long a time in the pit, and Long shielded his eyes as he pulled himself to flat land. A distant part of him heard sounds of cheers and boos, but his attention was singular. Despite the lighting, the greatest source of power came from the darkest corner: the Grand Master's platform.

He could not see Pravus, but he could feel him watching. The Sadowan stood tall despite the pain was fill him, knowing his success was representative not only of himself but Naga Sadow. He would inquire into the Master at Arms' state later.

For now, Shi Long permitted himself a smile in the knowledge he had achieved victory, and it was but the first of many to come.