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 Inquisitori.

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 matt has been stretched out to create a larger footprint than the typical Shock-Boxing 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 durarubber 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 reserved 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 Weapon Load Out for the match itself. Skill usage and all other ACC rules and guidelines still applies.]

Andrelious did not usually venture to the Brotherhood’s combat training centre. He preferred to stay on Karufr and spar against Kooki, but the Alderaanian was beginning to enjoy their duels a little too much. On hearing that the training centre had a strict ‘no killing’ policy, the Warlord elected to travel, feeling that the time was right to compare himself to members of other Clans.

I just hope I don’t end up against an Arconan. A lot of them still want me dead, Andrelious thought to himself. He had been hounded by many of his former friends in the Shadow Clan shortly after switching his allegiance to their traditional rival, Taldryan.

The Warlord had just finished arming his E-11 with a fresh power cell when he sensed a second powerful Force user nearby. The coldness of their presence indicated that was dealing with a dark sider, but it wasn’t until he spotted the tall, fairly lithe looking Human female that he prepared himself. The new arrival wore a smirk that told Mimosa-Inahj that she possessed at least some degree of self confidence. However, the Sith was far more interested in the fact that she bore a passing resemblance to a Jedi that he’d had a previous run-in with not long before his defection.

“You. You’re Pravus’ new Herald. Any reason you look so much like that Jedi Sorenn?” The Warlord questioned, examining the woman up and down. He was a little surprised by just how attractive that he found the Herald, despite the tattoos and scarring that he spotted on the exposed areas of skin. He turned his head away, hoping that the female would not notice him looking.

“If you mean Turel, then that Jedi Sorenn is my brother. But don’t you worry. I’m not out to snatch your babies. Or commit genocide,” the Herald responded, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “And the name’s Morgan,”

“Perhaps you’re not out to commit genocide against the Sith, Miss Sorenn, but as a member of the Dark Council, I know that the same can’t be said about your intent with the Jedi. Don’t expect to find me trying to stop you with that one,” Andrelious answered.

“I’m surprised you’re not taking a more active role yourself. You’re supposedly one of the Inquisitorius’ more talented members. Not that there’s much record of you or your family. That daughter of yours is a slippery customer, Andrelious,” Morgan stated.

Andrelious smirked. “If you’re aware of my standing, you’ll know that any mission I have is beyond even your paygrade. As for right now, I’m looking for something a little more leisurely. Never had the chance to take on a Dark Councillor before. How about it, Miss Sorenn? Care to show me why Lord Pravus saw fit to replace that moralistic tree with the likes of you?”

“Well, well, well, the little Sith is challenging a Dark Councilor! Is this just your typical power-grab, or do you like me?” The Herald taunted.

“Let’s say it’s a little from column aurek, and a little from column besh. Oh, and it’s been some time since I’ve duelled a Sorenn. I’d have preferred to take on your brother, but you’ll do just nicely,” Andrelious hissed. He had wanted to engage the female as soon as she had arrived, but a niggling feeling had made him hesitate enough to begin with a little verbal sparring. Now that he was a little more sure of her intent, the Warlord felt slightly more at ease.

Arming himself with the silver hilted lightsaber he preferred for duelling, Andrelious pressed its activation switch, its blade coming to life with the usual snap-hiss. Morgan mirrored the action, seemingly content to stick to a more conventional lightsaber duel rather than attempt something with the rest of the myriad of weapons that she had on her.

Morgan moved herself into a defensive stance, seeing that her opponent was already preparing for his initial strike. A powerful combination of upward slashes forced the Herald straight onto the back foot as Andrelious used his raw strength to try and batter his way past Sorenn’s blade. The female evaded the majority of the strikes with a series of jumps, ducks, and sidesteps, whilst waiting carefully for the Warlord to expose a weakness in his own defences.

Spotting an opportunity, albeit from an unorthodox angle, Morgan moved to take advantage of the opening. Andrelious realised what his opponent was doing and slammed crimson plasma in the way just in time.

“Nice move, Miss Sorenn. I hope you’ve got more than just that in your repertoire,” the Sith said.

Morgan never liked Sith, not personally, at least. Their whole ideology was garbage in her opinion. However, they were simple to deal with professionally. Tricky, but simple enough. Easy to manipulate and taunt with promise of power and domination — or the threat of taking either of those away. "When your head is that far up your own ass, then even your ego has its own gravity field," she had always thought. The Sith were a good expression of that statement and Andrelious was not nearly as different as he thought he was. She saw through him as easily as transparisteel on a sunny day. Self-absorbed, clearly, but more than that he added too much value to his own “legend,” and was very clearly ignorant of what his opponent was capable of.

Morgan wasted no time focusing on the saber fight. In fact, she dodged and deflected his blows with little more than a passing interest — something she was often good at hiding. She backed away when he struck at her, his saber just missing her hairline. She reeled, then, as he chopped down on her from over head, forcing her to stumble back. His every blow was followed by a reaction that would make him ever more confident in his own abilities. She created a perfect visage of a less capable fighter than she really was.

Blow after blow, the Sith seemed to overpower his taller opponent, making a grinning display of every small victory. For certain, Andrelious was the better swordsman, but that hardly mattered next to his fat and slugish physique. She could keep up easily enough. Her focus was on other things, more sinister in nature.

Even as he seemed to win every blow, Andrelious had a strong feeling creeping up into the back of his mind that something was very off about the woman. Not unlike a lingering itch one couldn’t really scratch, the feeling only increased in intensity as the fight dragged on and her smirk faded. It wasn’t the fight itself that snatched her focus; her eyes seemed locked on his, even as he pushed her back. He saw cold in those blue orbs, and a shiver ran down his neck.

Something dark and unnerving deep inside his core crawled further up his spine. Dread he rarely felt when facing an opponent seemed to cement itself in his mind. The whole feeling of what started out as a mock battle, suddenly changed. Andrelious stepped away from his opponent, taken aback by the invasive manner with which she seemed to manipulate him. He had noticed.

“What game are you playing?” he demanded, gratingly. Expecting a sparring match but getting something else entirely was not on his to-do list for the day.

Morgan’s body language changed from that of a hopeless opponent to an unnerving threat. “For all your tough talk, Sith, you seem to have a lot of unspoken secrets and fears underneath that bubbly skin of yours,” Morgan spoke in an eerily flat tone that made his bones quiver. Her aloof attitude and dry sarcasm were long gone. “You see, Andrelious,” she continued, “I find your whole organization, the mighty Inquisitorius, woefully incompetent. And you’re a Grand Inquisitor, the best of the best. You do the math.” She seemed to giggle mockingly, her voice dripping with derision. “I mean, really, I give you one of the Jedi’s champions on a platter, and you imbeciles let her go?” She pointed her saber at him, and turning sideways, stealthily pulled out a flash grenade from one of her pouches. “Pravus wasn’t happy with Evant. You can imagine what he did with the poor shebs who guarded Vorsa.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, or who you’re dealing with.” Andrelious seemed less than pleased with the Herald’s mocking display. “You think Lord Pravus was angry at the Voice? I'm sure he will like to hear about this insolence, girl.” He gave her a snide and self-important smirk.

“Oh, so scary,” the pirate spoke with delight at the empty threat. “The whole reason Pravus took me on as Herald was to root out weaknesses in his organization, and you are just one of the many cancers.” Morgan gave him another step of personal space as she circled around him. “Honestly, having a wife and kids in a job like this?” She shook her head in a common gesture of negativity. “Bad idea.”

The Herald could feel the Sith’s anger nearly bursting to the surface in an instant when she mentioned his family. The next sentence, she knew, would tip him over.

“You’re just another name on my list. There’s no place for you in the New Order. You, your wife or your kids.”

Inahj’s eyes widened mere moments before he charged her, saber coming in for a deadly blow. She pushed the activation switch on her grenade only moments before she deflected his first strike. The second slash she deflected as she ducked to the side, her saber flying from her hand from the blow. The third missed wide as she rolled underneath it, tossing the flash grenade under Andrelious’ feet. Turning away, she covered her ears and shut her eyes, just in time.

With a fizzle and a bang, the grenade exploded in front of the Sith’s eyes. Andrelious yelped and reeled back, his silver hilt hitting the floor with an audible clang. The ringing in his ears made him sick to his stomach as he stumbled across the sparing room like a headless Endorian chicken.

Morgan toppled over from the loud bang. Even if she covered her ears, the sound was loud enough to rattle all her teeth. A high pitched wail still echoed through her skull as she stood up on shaky legs, making her dizzy enough to barely hear her footfalls, but she could see just fine. The pirate grabbed their lightsabers and toppled over again, losing her balance. She rolled across the mat, managing to pick herself up once more, if slowly.

Andrelious had already been kneeling and rubbing away the white in his eyes, trying to adjust his hearing with whatever assistance the Force would grant him in his panicked state.

As his eyesight began to come back, Andrelious felt the Force slowly shielding his hearing from the affect of the flash bang. The ringing began to turn from a shrill, painful noise into a duller tone that was far more irritating than anything else. It was still loud enough that he could not hear much else, but his focus was no longer dominated by the sound.

Climbing back to his feet, the Warlord examined the room for his discarded lightsaber, noticing it in Morgan’s hand. He extended his own hand to summon it with a simple command to the Force, but, as the silver hilt began to free itself, his opponent hurled it to the far end of the room.

“I think not. Come on, Andrelious. You’re a Grand Inquisitor. Surely you’ve got more in your arsenal than just a few fancy lightsaber moves?” the Herald taunted.

Andrelious looked up to see Morgan approaching, but found that her imprint in the Force was far less obvious than it had been before. Instead of bone-chilling cold, he sensed her darkness as if he were feeling a seaside breeze wisping its way peacefully past. It was almost as if he were sensing her as she would have been without any training. In a flash he realised what was happening.

“A cheap trick, Miss Sorenn. Something that I’d expect from that brother of yours,” the Sith hissed, stepping back in an attempt to move out of the zone that the female had seemingly drained of the Force.

“Typical Sith! You’re denied the use of the Force as a crutch and you try to hobble away!” Morgan teased, releasing her hold over the area as though she were discarding a shroud. Her gaze remained focused solely on Andrelious, however, as she began to probe the Warlord’s mind for further weaknesses.

“All you’re doing is trying to stop me, Herald. What are you going to do when your luck runs out?” the Taldryanite hissed, activating his second lightsaber. As he readied himself to attack, his concentration was broken; he remembered the comments that Morgan had made about his family.

She mentioned that business with Vorsa. And my family. That’s why she’s here! She’s keeping me busy while Pravus, or one of his other Councillors, deals with Kooki and the girls! Andrelious thought, panicking as he realised the gravity of the situation. Sweat poured down the Warlord’s face as he found himself engulfed with fear of what the Grand Master was prepared to do.

“But Kooki. The girls. The Grand Inquisitors are the ones who failed to deal with Vorsa. Not our families!” Andrelious cried, trying to fight back a tear from rolling down his face.

“That doesn’t matter, Inahj. Lord Pravus was deeply upset with you and your fellows. You’re just the first to be punished!” Morgan responded, her words designed to further enhance the ruse that she had created.

“No. I will not stand by and let them die! Stand down, Sorenn. Get the hell out of my way!” the Sith roared, his sense of logic already beginning to dislodge the Herald’s trickery. Andrelious charged forward, attacking so furiously with his lightsaber that Morgan barely had time to re-activate her own weapon to fend the Warlord off.

“You’re going nowhere, Inahj. You should have fled the Brotherhood when you had the chance! Instead you went crawling to Cantor and his hasbeens! You’re just going to be the first of the so called Grand Inquisitors to fall!” the Herald snapped, remaining completely focused on the job at hand even as her opponent pulled out all of the stops.

Andrelious continued to try and batter his way past the female’s defences, becoming more and more frustrated as his lack of speed allowed Morgan to fend him off with a seeming ease. Her own attacks were also quick in nature, trying to take advantage of the times that the Warlord swung back to build up power for another assault.

Stepping back, Andrelious was about to lurch forwards and attempt a series of lower slashes when the Force yelled at him to take caution. Sure enough, Morgan leapt backwards, putting several paces between herself and the Taldryanite, before hurling another grenade in his direction. As she threw it, her other hand reached for her goggles, placing them on her eyes. The grenade exploded, immediately excreting a large amount of a translucent gas that began to irritate Andrelious’ eyes. Even with the few moments of warning he had received, the Warlord found the discomfort enough to have to step well away from the immediate area.

Tear gas. Could have done with this bitch and her belt of tricks back during the War. Andrelious thought as he rubbed his eyes to try and help them clear the offending chemical.

Smirking as she peered through the gas, Morgan’s delight at seeing her opponent struggle was replaced by a sense of foreboding as she noticed Andrelious had stopped rubbing his eyes, and was instead pointing his fingers directly at her. She had just enough time to raise her hands before the Sith’s Force lightning hit her. The attack flashed into the Herald’s raised hands, fizzing out of existence millimetres away as if blocked by an invisible shield. Moments later, the shield itself began to collapse, but the lightning ceased before it was able to become an immediate danger.

Andrelious snarled. He was beginning to run out of ideas; he had sensed that Morgan was beginning to tire, but she had raised her defences against his lightning with such ease that he was now unsure if her fatigue was just merely what she wanted him to see. He side-stepped a few times, never taking his eyes from his opponent. She too watched him carefully, praying hard that she could keep the Warlord doubting her abilities.

Reaching his fingers out again, the Taldryanite prepared for another burst of lightning, but was caught completely off guard when the woman hurled herself at him, hitting him with enough force to send him stumbling backwards. As he fell, Andrelious had enough about him to fire off his intended attack, but it was cut short as he collided with what he initially thought was the wall. However, a sharp piercing pain through his back quickly told him that he’d backed straight into one of the weapon racks, and had been wounded by the sharp edge of a sword that had been carelessly put back the wrong way around. The Warlord struggled with the weapon, trying to free himself as the pain grew. As he pulled, the embedded blade did further damage, cutting many of the tiny blood vessels throughout his back.

Morgan casually sauntered up to the beleaguered Sith.

“Shame. Seems someone wasn’t paying attention when they returned that sword. For once it is you who has been stabbed in the back,” the Herald declared with a smirk.

Finally, Andrelious managed to work himself away from the sword, but his back was badly wounded. Without the sword in place, blood began to ooze from his severed veins and arteries, coating the floor in crimson. The Warlord realised too late that the blood loss he was suffering was far greater than he had estimated. Even with his own abilities to heal, he would need medical attention, but Morgan wasn’t in a charitable mood. Taking her chance, the Herald jammed her lightsaber into her opponent’s left thigh, further increasing the Warlord’s agony. He dropped to the ground, unsure whether to clutch the fresh, cauterised leg wound, or to try and stem what felt like a river of blood still flowing from his back.

Andrelious was still trying to decide what to do as he passed out from blood loss.

Morgan simply shook her head and walked away.

“I wonder if his wife would have been better sport...”

She took several long, deep breaths to try and find her center among all the noise. The buzzing and static in her ears slowly gave way, letting her think clearly. Morgan smirked as her opponent scrubbed his eyes furiously, trying to regain some semblance of vision. She approached the Sith with the intent of ending their scuffle and going back to her business, but then looked at the large blinking “NO KILLING” sign and scoffed.

“Shame—”

Before she could properly react, Andrelious’ fingers rose towards her and, in a blink of an eye, let loose streams of pure power. Morgan was too distracted, too proud of her smart-ass move to notice. The Force around her supercharged with energy as she took the full brunt of the lightning blast and slammed into the wall she had leaned on moments earlier. In a very clairvoyant moment, as her mind tumbled between pain and static, she remembered why exactly she never gave her enemy a moment’s pause. And why she hated following someone else’s rules.

Morgan slumped into a pile, clothes smoking from the energy blast, fingertips and extremities still twitching as her body adjusted and tried to heal. Her mind rushed through a chaotic maze of thought that made her dizzy. She tasted a metallic tinge on the tip of her tongue and smelled something burning around her. The console and wall behind her fizzled and popped as electric discharge from the Sith’s wild outburst played punch-out with its circuitry. She heard the high pitched wail of an alarm going off; red, flashing lights replaced the well lit interior of the combat hall.

She had to get up. Andrelious was already on his feet and she had lost the advantage. Whatever rationale she had left focused on pushing away the veil of pain that enveloped her form. The Force ebbed and flowed, loosening agony’s grip on her body as she slowly pulled herself up on shaky legs.

Andrelious focused, now finally free of the buzz and throbbing from the flash grenade. His finger went up again, sending another blast at the miscreant. Morgan’s senses screamed with danger mere heartbeats before she sidestepped and rolled. The lightning struck her left arm, sending jolts of pain through her body again. She ducked, more-or-less successfully, behind one of the sparring dummies, which seemed to draw most of the energy that Andrelious now sent across the room, setting it aflame. The woman rolled again just as her opponent ceased his torrent, and drew her lightsaber for the second time. Her left arm stung and she was in no shape to fight a superior opponent, even an injured one. She cursed her own hubris silently as Andrelious’ lightsaber flew from her belt into his hand and ignited.

“You’re dead, whore,” he yelled over the blaring of the alarm. His red, watery eyes, now even more menacing under the fierce crimson light, gave no room for quarter as he rushed in, saber ready to cleave her in two. He smashed against her defenses with all his might, and Morgan only barely managed to deflect the strike to the side, hitting one of the other dummies and melting it in half. The second strike came wide and she managed to dodge it but fumbled over the third dummy and rolled across the floor towards the door. She stood up, saber at the ready as Andrelious approached again. Morgan smirked, sensing an approaching presence outside the combat training hall.

“No killing, remember?”

The alarm stopped abruptly, forcing Andrelious to halt mid stride. The doors opened and Atra Ventus, accompanied by three Combat Center guards walked in to find the training hall in smoldering rubble. The consoles on the far wall smoked and sparked, half the lights on the ceiling burst from the overload and the dummies and walls were scorched.

Ventus drew his lightsaber, as did the others with him. “The Combat Master and the Voice will have words with you two.” He visibly tensed and stroked the ignition switch. “This doesn’t have to end badly for you if you come peacefully.” A Grand Inquisitor and the Herald would be a hard fought battle.

Morgan giggled mockingly as her saber disengaged. “How cute.” She shook her half-numb hand and flexed her fingers to regain some feeling. Standing up slowly, she felt the ache in her muscles as the adrenaline slowly subsided, but she seemed outwardly calm. Andrelious practically fumed from his nose and ears. “Fine, I’ll come with. I’ve had my fun.” She gave the Sith a wink before calmly following one of Atra’s men as the situation defused. “Catch you later, navbag. Love to the wife and kids.” She walked out with a smirk on her face, leaving Andrelious, Atra and the other men behind. Their next meeting would be far more interesting.