You enter one of the dozens of sparring chambers within the Shadow Academy of Lyspair, the simple square room utilized mostly by those learning the ways of the lightsaber. This five hundred square-foot room, rectangular in shape, is nearly barren. The floor is lined with simple padding, while the walls are made of dull, grey durasteel, gauged by innumerable lightsaber strikes, scarring the metal permanently.

The ceiling towers above you, nearly twenty feet in height, allowing for plenty of movement from the more acrobatic of Force users. There are no other adornments within the room, save for the entrance and lighting that bathes the entire room, yet seems to come from nowhere. All corners of the room are perfectly lit, with no visible shadows to speak of. There is nowhere for you to hide within the room, but… there's no room for your opponent to hide either.

“You’re late. I was about to leave.”

Zakath was not surprised in the least as he stepped within the sparring chamber to see Ernordeth Prue-Irae glaring at him with an annoyed glance. Having served previously as Security Chief aboard the AVG Nighthawk, where Ernordeth was currently assigned, he was well aware of the red-skinned Human’s impatience for those running late.

“I waz detained,” Zakath said flatly as he withdrew his rancor-tooth lightsaber. “You are ready to begin our training exercize?”

“What? No apology?” Ernordeth scoffed slightly as he removed the elongated hilt of his saberstaff from his belt. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Good,” Zakath said as he ignited his lightsaber, its crimson blade spilling out. “We fight until one of uz concedez.”

“I know the rules,” Ernor growled slightly under his breath as he raised his saberstaff in a high overhand grip, both ends erupting out scarlet blades. “Let’s get on with this, I don’t have all day.”

Zakath gave a slight nod in response before he dropped slightly, his knees bending to give himself a more compact profile, raising his blade up into a guard position. Ernordeth gave a slight smirk at the sight of the Barabel shifting into what appeared to be a defensive posture before allowing himself to release the energy he had been holding back and letting it flow throughout his limbs.

Scarlet energy blurred forward as the red-hued Human launched his attack, the burning crimson blades blurring into a wave of light as he threw himself into the battle. The humming weapons crashed together as Zakath’s blade solidly blocked the attack, his eyes beginning to take on an amethyst glow as he drew upon the Force. Ernordeth didn’t so much as blink at the sight as he recoiled his lightsaber and sent it stabbing upward, intending to run Zakath through in the chest.

The Barabel snarled as he knocked the blade aside, careful to keep out of reach of the secondary blade, before he suddenly released one hand and let loose a blast of dark lightning in Ernordeth’s direction. The bolt of electricity forced the half-Human back, his saberstaff reflexively positioned to intercept the bolt on one end and deflect it into the wall. Smoke drifted from the site of the blackened scorch mark.

“So that’s how we’re going to play, huh, Zak?” Ernordeth let loose a low chuckle as he rolled his burly shoulders back to let out a bit of the tension. “Alright pal, we can do it that way.”

“Thiz is a training exercize,” Zakath growled out as he glared across at his opponent. “But we are not rookieez. Bring your bezt, or you will be the one in the medbay today.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, Zak.” Ernordeth’s smile turned vicious. “I’ll show you what my best is, I promise you that.”

“Then stop talking,” Zakath growled before letting loose another bolt of lightning, which Ernordeth easily slapped aside with a twist of his staff.

“Oh, very well.”

The Barabel barely had time to react, leaping back just as Ernordeth threw himself into a renewed frontal assault. His scarlet blade crashed down to sear the floorspace that Zakath had just vacated. Before he could counter, the Human was already moving, one hand suddenly free and unleashing a lightning bolt of his own toward the Dark Jedi. Zakath threw himself sideways, the humming crimson blade of his lightsaber shrieking as it carved into the metal floor- but he was just a second too slow.

The lightning bolt caught Zakath in the tail, and electricity shot into his body, seizing up his muscles for a brief second. Snarling in triumph, the Human shot forward, his blade arcing down to sever the appendage, but the Barabel managed to recover, his tail recoiling just out of reach of the saberstaff, which impaled the floor instead.

Zakath reacted instantly, whipping his blade back into a waist-level blocking position that was perfectly placed to intercept any incoming attack, and risked a glance back at his tail. The acrid smell and wisps of smoke trailing up from the appendage told him everything he needed to know, and his eyes glowed hotter as he shot a furious glare at the snickering Ernordeth.

“You will pay for that,” Zakath growled as he gripped his toothy hilt tighter in both hands, his tail flicking to and fro as if to shake off the lingering pain.

Ernordeth Puer-Irae smirked as Zakath’s tail convulsed, surrounded by a wisp of smoke from the shock the Battlelord had emitted from his red fingertips. The Barabel’s resulting snarl was louder than the Human’s stomach growling over the smell of meat beginning to cook.

Intimidation would do neither opponent any good in this spar. Ernordeth’s herculean build was just as menacing as the Savant’s muscular, scaly frame.

“I’m sure Barabel steak will fetch a decent price after our match,” Ernordeth retorted. “I might even make some boots from your hide.”

Zakath’s eyes narrowed as he hurdled towards the Sith in a gray frenzy. His rancor toothed, red lightsaber hummed as each strike missed its target. Finally a blow crashed upon his opponent’s blood-colored blade, locking them together. Hissing echoed throughout the room as the Barabel tried to press his advantage. Ernordeth’s resolve and pure strength were keeping the Human from being struck. The Battlelord’s saberstaff’s top blade began to slide closer to Zakath’s torso, inches away. The Dark Jedi stepped aside upon realizing the bottom blade was about to strike upward.

Ernordeth’s saber fell forward after his opponent’s sudden movement. He started to jump back, but was a split second too late. The Barabel’s talons tore flesh off the Sith, taking a piece of fabric from his cloak falling to the floor with it. The Human winced as the air hit the wound and a bead of sweat dripped into his exposed wound.

Zakath hissed gleefully, faintly detecting the iron from Ernordeth’s blood. His tail swung back and forth through the air.

”Perhapsss it iz I who will wear your scalp!” the Savant shrieked.

“You seem to be spending too much time around Atyiru. You’re picking up her traits.” Ernordeth exclaimed.

With a push of the Force the Battlelord sent his cloak’s missing piece through the air towards the Barabel’s eyes as he leapt forward.

It was only a slight tremor in the Force that sent Zakath twisting sideways, the ruined cloth sailing past his head. The warning saved his arm from being cut off as Ernordeth’s blade grazed past his scaly skin, scorching the surface. He let out a roar as the fiery heat from the wound flooded his senses. Raising his blade, he caught the Battlelord’s lateral attack and solidly blocked it, beating back his opponent with a strong counterstroke as he drew upon the Force to dampen the pain raking along his burnt arm.

Breaking away, Zakath loosened his off hand from his lightsaber and focusing for a precious few seconds, electricity coalescing down from his wrist and into hand until it reached the tips of his talons, sending the lightning arcing in Ernordeth’s direction. The Human’s lightsaber intercepted it, the strength of the lightning forcing him to slow his approaching pace. Growling as he backpedalled, Zakath ramped up the energy pouring out of him, slowly preparing for another display of the Force as he did so.

Ernordeth was struggling now to keep his blade steady as it grounded the Barabel’s stream of lightning, and he was about to let a witty retort fly out to try and rattle Zakath when suddenly the flow of energy ceased. Sensing weakness, Ernordeth immediately moved forward, his saberstaff held in a high grip to send it crashing down on Zakath.

But before he could do so, Zakath’s hand flung out again, and a bright flash of white light flooded the room, searing the Battlelord’s eyes and sending him stumbling back. Trying to blink away the bright haze, Enrordeth’s lightsaber was now temporarily lowered.

It was all that Zakath needed.

His hand was encircled with electricity again as he let it loose at the Human, the bolt striking his chest. Without his lightsaber to ground it, the Battlelord was sent staggering backward. The Human’s face was twisting with horrific pain as Zakath ramped up the energy pouring from him and into the Battlelord. Ernordeth finally collapsed onto his back and slowly began to crawl away from the furious Barabel.

“E- enough!” The red-hued Human croaked out.

The lightning stopped instantly, and within a second, the Savant was at Ernordeth’s side, his bloodshine lightsaber leveled at the Sith Battlelord’s throat.

“You concede?” Zakath hissed out the question as he stared down at his fallen opponent, his blade unmoving.

“Yes!” Ernordeth gasped in air as he collapsed back fully onto the floor, muscles trembling from the remnants of electricity fizzing out in his system. “Frakking hell, I was just joking about cooking your meat.”

“Then perhapz next time, you should treat thiz az a seriouz exercize,” The Barabel growled as he disengaged his lightsaber, returning it to his belt. “I will summon the medical droid.”

“Thanks,” Ernor replied sullenly as he stared up at the ceiling.

Zakath didn’t bother to respond as he turned his attention to his wounded arm, noticing with dismay that his scaly skin had melted together from where Ernordeth’s blade had grazed it. Hissing softly as he tried to keep the pain blocked out, he reached out with the Force and focused on the injury. Within a minute, the fiery heat radiating out of the wound began to fade away. Satisfied, the Barabel turned to leave the sparring room to go to the medical bay.

“Ernor?” Zakath had paused at the doorway leading out of the sparring room, turning to look back at the Battlelord.

“What?”

“Not all of Atyiru’z traitz are bad.”

The cloth rushed against his face like a warm breeze as the red-hued human landed near the Barabel. Zakath snarled as he removed the piece of cloak from his slitted eyes and brought the rancor toothed saber up to greet the clashing of the Sith’s blade down upon him causing the Savant to stagger slightly as the Battlelord’s other blade swept upwards towards his opponent. This time Zakath was ready. He parried that strike and the two Arconans duel looked like a dance of rage.

The Barabel finally caught his first break slicing Ernordeth’s saberstaff in half and kicking him backwards leaving him with a single blade left to defend himself. The Human sent the remnants of the broken half of the saberstaff at the Qel-Droman as he jumped to his feet. Zakath shrugged off the debris.

“Iz that the bessst you can do?” snarled the Savant.

Ernordeth used the Barabel’s friendship for the Consul against him. “Atyriu didn’t complain last night.”

The remainder of the Human’s saberstaff darted through the air towards Zakath. The Force made it seem like a slow pitch as the Dark Jedi hissed as the saber crashed against an invisible barrier.

The Battlelord, full of rage, sent a wave out towards the Savant taking care of his opponent’s defenses. The Barabel felt a tug on his tale, but didn’t see anything touching him as Ernordeth struck Zakath in the ribs, followed by a blow to his knee. The Barabel knelt on the ground.

Out of breath the Sith placed his hands on his knees as he gasped for air. His chest heaved in and out through each breath.

“Should we call it?” the Battlelord muttered.

“Yez, but Atyriu would never touch the likes of you.” Zakath snarled.

Ernordeth looked up and for the briefest moment the Barabel saw a hint of fear in the Human’s eyes.

“Don’t tell her what I said.” pleaded the Praetor.

He waited in silence expecting an answer only for the Dark Jedi to stand and leave the room.