Elevated over a ravine, the Massassi Arena has withstood the tests of time. It is arranged in a circular formation and made by a slab of stone that connects the opposite slopes of the ravine. On its eastern side, the floating arena leads to a staircase and into a near-vertical cliff face. Because of its nearly unsupported vantage that overlooks a several hundred-meter fall, even the smallest creatures can feel the occasional motion the platform makes as the breeze brushes across its cold surface.

Adding to the adrenaline rush of standing within the slab’s concentric patterns carved into the rock, barriers and obstacles echo the Massassi’s commitment to taking every advantage over their opponents. Pillars ring the outer edge without guard rails between them, some remaining intact and others having toppled into the arena or over the perilous heights. Weeds and other fauna cover each surface as nature seeks to reclaim the ravine and eventually send the arena itself to the depths.

”Your next target is the Scholae Palatinae Knight, known as Blade. It seems she recently encountered and defeated a companion of yours, the Togrutan Taasii.”

”Abadeer? I had hoped to remove him from the list myself.”

”Your personal wishes are of no concern for this mission, just make sure she doesn't get up.”

”With pleasure, my lord.”

Kalsunor

The primitive speech of the Massassi was a headache. It intruded upon one ear, gouging a path through the audio sensory system, and left the other ear not soon enough. And frankly, Kul had encountered them enough to last him a lifetime. Every time one of his fellow journeymen challenged him, it seemed they enjoyed practicing amongst the beasts. He recalled responding by saying he'd rather fight in front of the Grandmaster’s quarters while Pravus was sleeping then enjoy the company of the Massassi again. He had just arrived and already was he annoyed. A few good hits to his mark might make him feel better.

The Zabrak continued his stroll along the rough duracrete path, breathing in the crisp, clean air. Clean except for the reek of Massassi sweat and blood. It seemed some pair had sought to resolve their differences in the lethal formality of tradition. The salty smell grew as the center of its diffusion area revealed itself. Kul found himself facing an arena dangling hundreds of meters, while fighting gravity with the sole help of four swinging bridges. To his right a gargantuan tree clasped the sky with its claws of leaves; twisting roots ploughed through what weakspots they could find in the soil, preying for sources of water. Had it not been designed as a place for battle, Kul might have found it a refreshing source of relaxation.

A battle with a well-trained opponent is somewhat relaxing too, though. He couldn’t help but grin. The adrenaline, the smell of his opponent’s fear...it was often intoxicating.

His boots clapped upon the boards sown together with some sort of thick vines as he approached the center. If his intel was correct, his mark had come here to train after her victory over his fellow Plagueian. A swarm of Massassi hung about the arena like flies to fodder. He wrinkled his nose. Then stopped as he nudged aside one of the hulking beings, gaining a view of the center ground. Within it, a pile of pink tinged flesh lay scattered around in bits. Standing over the corpses, a Zeltron female was methodically cleaning her katana blade. Sensing a strange presence, her gaze flicked upward.

“Looking for a show, Zabrak?” Her crystalline eyes twinkled with a playful spirit. Kul responded with an amused grunt and stepped further into the arena. The Massassi noticed the stranger and an excited hum overcame the crowd. Perhaps there would be more bloodshed? The Zeltron noticed the crest of Plagueis on his armored belt as she slid her sword back into its sheath at her hip. A lightsaber dangled there, as well, Kul noted.

“Ah, a Plagueian then. Here to exact revenge for your comrade, I suppose? Hopefully you’ll be more of a challenge then he was.” Her smile warned of taunting, but Kul could not help but feel a...pull. There was something about her that called to him. His hearts beat a rapid staccato in response. His eyes squinted together in annoyance. She was dangerous, this one. He understood now why Taasii had trouble.

“Indeed. I suppose this is as fitting a place as any.” He gave a battle salute, crossing his left arm to his chest. As he returned his arm to his side he drug a durasteel claw along the left breast of his armor, a notch beside several others. “Anything you’d like to get off your chest before I rip it asunder?”

He had not expected much really. His marks so often could only focus on the here and now and their inevitable doom then dare consider what regrets they may have had in life. He was surprised, but pleasantly, when she responded calmly. Her presence seethed with a warm non-aggressive demeanor.

“What kind of Sith are you? I get the sense that you enjoy killing, but there’s...something else. As if you enjoy killing, but also loath it.” Her eyes bespoke her curiosity with a hazy layer as her mental cogs turned.

Kul raised an eyebrow at her question. “I’m intrigued as to what you think you know about me, but I do what I must to protect my Clan. Be’shuo meni linare.”((1)) He bounced lightly on his toes. “I grow tired of rhetoric. Shall we?” Without waiting for a response he propelled himself forward with the raw power of his trained legs. The Massassi cried in ecstasy as their wish came true and the two warriors clashed.

The Zabrak kept his focus on keeping the Zeltron from bringing her weapons to bear. He felt confident in his ability to match her, but the different approaches kept him wary. A mixture of blade and plasma saber could prove troublesome. His directed thrusts and feinting strikes became a sleugh of cumbrous counters as the K’tara in the Zeltron appeared. He could not risk letting her land the accurate strikes so feared of the style that could wear him down quickly. Fortunately for him, her stance was lower than his own, and so he took advantage of that pressing in on her with his greater height and weight. If she could not adapt soon, he might just crush her.

((1- Zabraki for "My clan is family."))

Blade had wanted to ask the Zabrak a few more questions, but Kul wasn’t giving her that opportunity. His aggressive launch towards her and his subsequent body strikes kept her arms and hands in motion as she weaved them through the air in quick, short jabs; her efficient, deadly K’tara strikes forcing Kul to protect himself from the inenviable fate of incapacitating blows. They were keeping her alive for now, but Kul was not holding anything back. Her body was beaten back ever so slightly as their arms and hands banged against each other. The force of his counters and hits spoke to the Zabrak’s superior strength and the taller stature that leveraged it.

Blade had learned enough from her previous fights against bigger, stronger opponents to know that this was a battle she could not win by brute force. In addition, the rhythm of the fight and Kul’s choice of weaponry revealed that the Zabrak favored his claw gauntlet over the use of a lightsaber. She could not begin to fathom why anyone would make such a curious choice when they had attained a lightsaber. Did he desire to embrace his more feral side? Either way, to find herself subjected to such a vulgar weapon was a disgrace! Her personal distaste aside, she needed a change of tactics.

In short, Blade needed her lightsaber. She had kept up with their quick exchanges so far, but he fought with a claw and she didn’t want to acquire any deep scratches. She continued her brutal dance with the Zabrak. With each blow, she looked for an opening. He was relentless. He came at her again and again, one jab, a swipe of his claw, a feint, another jab. A sly smirk crossed her lips then. She could capitalize on those feints he seemed so fond of.

When Kul next feinted, Blade pounced. She summoning the Force into a powerful cross punch across the Zabrak’s face as she purposefully swung her fist through thin air. Kul staggered to his right, his foot momentarily caught on a raised loose stone. As he struggled to regain his footing, Blade jumped away. Her lightsaber was out, its crimson blade alive, before she had even landed.

The seconds reprieve from fighting awakened her to small dull pains. She spared a quick glance down to her arms and hands. Several thin cuts now marked her skin. Droplets of blood trickled like beads on her tight outfit. She grit her teeth. Such an animal!

“You say you do this to protect your clan, but why protect a vicious murderer?” Blade asked petulantly.

The Zabrak stared at her lit lightsaber for a second before responding. Blade wondered why he didn’t ignite his own already.

“I am loyal to my clan. They are my family. Nothing more and nothing less,” responded Kul.

Kul was a curiosity to her, and in all honesty she wasn’t sure what to make of him. He wanted to protect his clan, something she might have labelled a noble cause were it not so foolishly misguided. Did he not realize he was defending a ruthless animal? She felt frustrated at his willingness to overlook his fallen comrade’s proclivity for harming others.

“I see. At least you give me a challenge. One last question, are you fighting for that dead animal you call family or is there part of you that is fighting for yourself?” Blade asked bluntly.

Kul’s face took on a hurt, annoyed, expression. A hit nerve?

“How dare you insult Taasii? How dare you mock ME! I fight for my clan. I fight for the hunt. You will understand this when I rip you to shreds!” argued Kul passionately.

That was all Blade needed to hear. She knew she could hold nothing back, for this fight would be no sparring session. This was life or death. It melted away her doubts and made her decision very easy. She quieted her mind and put her focus on what mattered most now, winning.

“Then I declare you guilty. Prepare for your punishment,” Blade declared with an air of finality.

Kul stood tall, body turned at an angle, knees bent slightly, arms relaxed but ready to spring into action. His eyes were focused. He licked his lips as he waited on Blade to make her move.

“You can certainly try,” the Zabrak responded with an angry growl.

Blade took one deep breath as she called upon the Force. Then, like a flash of lightning, she leapt into action. Taking full advantage of her saber’s reach, she nipped Kul’s shoulder even as he swiped his claw through thin air. She followed up with a flurry of deceptive, random slashes. Much to her frustration, she hit nothing but the wind.

Blade was sweating profusely, she had been for the better part of the day. First against the Massassi, then against this Zabrak. And with her sweat, she had released an endless stream of pheromones. The arena was positively flooded with her delicious scent and it was only a matter of time before the Zabrak was swayed by it.

“Come closer, Kul. Join me in a dance of light,” said Blade alluringly.

Kul gave a passing glance towards the nick on his shoulder. His armor had absorbed most of the blow, but a stream of his blood trickled out and stained the fabric of his cloak. He grinned hungrily and gave Blade an eery wink. Oh how he loved a challenge! He took in a deep breath and absorbed the smell of iron, along with something he could not quite place. It was sweet and further inflamed his desire for action. When had Blade started glowing?

She smiled as a confused look come over Kul, and his eyes were dilated enough for her to see from meters away. Good, the pheromones are taking full effect. If she could drag out the fight just long enough, he would become putty in her hands. Malleable and mollified, he would fall as she quartered him with her saber. After hearing rumors of Plagueian barbarity on Florrum, she wondered how Odan-Ur could have fallen if this was the best the dark clan could posture forth. She leapt at her opponent and swung to behead him, assuming he would dodge in an effort to preserve his life. She nearly lost her composure in midair when he merely stood in the path of her incoming torrent. She struck out at him, amplifying her swing desperately as she lost the maneuvering room upon impact, but only her fists smashed into his armor. Her lightsaber was gone! Her breath soon left her as well when her throat was snatched by a red hand. In the other Kul held her saber, shifted to a reverse grip. His muscles swelled as he lifted Blade into the air. She noticed his grip relax slightly so as to allow her to breath again, but his face was etched in that confident grin he kept sporting.

“I finally see through your tricks, Zeltron. I should have realized sooner. The pheromones of your race are indeed an excellent weapon, and I applaud you for your cleverness. However, attacking me while I’m unarmed is where you made your mistake.” He attempted to squeeze tighter, but his hand refused the order. “I-I have trained for years to perfect this illusion.” She tested his grip by wriggling a bit, but at his fully extended reach she could not strike at him. Those pheromones are taking their sweet time. Thankfully the Zabrak’s monologue was buying her time. Or was this the pheromones bringing out his race’s well-known arrogance?

“No, not a Force induced illusion, mind you. I have trained in the art of Jar’kai. And yet, carry only one saber as of now. What better way to acquire the second saber my art calls for then from my opponent? And you thought to judge me?!” His eyes seemed to grow darker, and the hairs on Blade’s arm began to prickle and rise. “If you are the judge, then I am the executioner!” He began to discharge pure energy as crackling sparks poured into her nervous system. She cried out in anguish as the Force chose her for a conduit and her cells accepted the intrusion regardless of their own wishes. Her body racked in throes of pain and she wanted to roll, to fall, to do something but the Zabrak held her in place. His eyes rapidly dilated and reversed, as if unsure of how much light they wanted to take in. He tsked and tossed her to the ground. Drawing his own saber, he unleashed the blade in tandem with her own and crossed them in a salute before lowering himself into a Jar’kai stance, body centered with one saber before him and the other behind. The Zeltron stumbled to her feet, her playful demeanor torn and replaced with tatters of hope sown with despair.

The Massassi had been silent up until now, their own senses blurred by Blade’s hypnotic biology. They cried in anger, though, when she attempted to pass through their lines in escape. Their desire for blood overrode any other influence. They blocked her path and forced her to face the Zabrak to the end.

Kul approached her, still wary even on the edge of victory. His body was aching and his breath had grown hazardously laboured. There was still a glow around her and it was driving him insane. It was distracting. He decided if he killed her it would go away. He charged her.

Blade watched as the Zabrak came at her, death written across his tattooed features. So, her judgement had finally come. She bowed her head and regretted she had not been able to make more of a difference before her time had come. She felt the force of the wind as the Zabrak landed before her, a roar on his lips. The platform swung an extra few degrees at the force of it. She waited for the inevitable blow that would send her spiraling into the abyss...it never came. Surprised to say the least, she glanced up and came face to face with the Zabrak. He was shaking as though caught with fever, sweat perforating the veil of confidence he possessed earlier. Then she realized what had happened, and she managed a smile again. The katana at her side clicked as it was released from its sheath. It’s about time.

Kul knew what it was now. He’d been missing it but it stood here before him as his eyes probed her sorrow-stricken face. She’s beautiful. Why had he only just now noticed? Why had he tried to strike her down? It had been so long since he’d felt anything like this, not since before his Selenoren rite of passage.

The blade sliced him from stem to stern, carved a path up his breastplate and shredded the flesh of his throat and chin. His vision clouded as his life-blood flowed freely from its vessel.

She watched him as he bled out, “You men are all the same. You are judged.”

Kul paused for a moment, his chest rising and falling with each quick breath. His right hand wandered to his lightsaber as he stared hungrily into Blade’s crystal blue eyes. Blade smiled and stared back.

“You want a light show? I’ll give you one,” promised Kul with a grin.

She felt an all too familiar urge to flee, one she had grown to trust. Kul reached his left arm out to her. Blue-white tendrils crackled and danced on his fingertips. Bad memories returned, memories of white-hot pain and the sensation of uncontrolled body spasms. Blade turned and leapt towards the nearest fallen pillar, urging herself forward as fast as she could go.

“Don’t run away now. I want to come closer,” implored Kul.

It wasn’t fast enough. Kul smiled as electricity jumped from his fingertips and arced it’s way towards Blade. As her feet touched the ground behind a fallen pillar, Kul’s electrical projectile connected. Her body shook violently to the floor as Kul’s lightning engulfed her. The vile discharge pulsed through her, ripping an agonized wail from her lips. She used the Force to focus inward on her shaking body and urged her muscles to relax. First, they eased into longer, slower contractions, then they yielded to a soothing stillness. Her reprieve was short. She heard the discomforting sound of approaching footsteps and the beginnings of an ominous crackle.

Blade searched nearby for anything she could throw. She smiled as she saw a pile of rubble from a pillar crushed long ago. Taking a deep breath, she chucked several small rocks with the Force towards the approaching Zabrak. An annoyed grunt accompanied silence. She pressed Kul further and continued her onslaught of small rocks as she stood up and ran to meet Kul halfway. His claw was ready.

Blade unleashed a wave of quick, staccato strikes towards the Zabrak. Kul flitted away from each one, slowly backing up towards an erect pillar as he gave ground. His labored breathing urged her forward. She pressed her attack. Kul continued to evade, keeping Blade’s lightsaber from scoring a hit. The Zabrak grinned as his back hit the pillar behind him. It was time.

Blade felt Kul amassing a familiar torrent of dark energy. The Zabrak roared and clenched his fist. The murderous look on his face made his feral cry all the more impressive. She heard a distinct snap-hiss. It was about time, she thought to herself. An explosion of dark energy filled the vicinity as Kul unleashed a fury of fast cuts.

Blade retreated and struck out with her own lightsaber, its tip licking the air as it sought an opening. The pair circled each other in a game of give and take, each attempting to penetrate the other’s defenses. It reminded her of her father’s sparring lessons, a pleasant memory of one warrior against another. The Zabrak’s lightsaber cut swiftly through the air, only to be met by Blade’s quick, unpredictable slashes that often put Kul off guard.

They battled a path through the arena; the hum of their lightsabers filled the air. It was exactly what she wanted, a dance of light. She didn’t agree with him, but right now he was just a fellow warrior that she dearly wanted to best. Kul fought well so far, but she couldn’t help but notice that he was slowing down. It took her a while to see it, but it suddenly dawned on her: there was a slight sway to his movements, a loss of focus and precision.

Blade rushed Kul with frenzy of ferocious, rapid, deceptive strikes. His labored swings barely kept up and often missed their mark. She relentlessly continued her barrage, her lightsaber closer and closer to breaking Kul’s failing defenses. She whipped her lightsaber into a blurred assault of chaotic slashes and jabs. The exhausted Zabrak attempted evasion, but he was too slow. Blade’s lightsaber broke through Kul’s feeble defense and weaved a series of cuts across Kul’s torso and arms. Kul stared at Blade in shock and staggered away from her.

The heaving Zabrak fought to stay up despite the pain etched on his face. She was impressed. His eyes bored into hers; it was a look of desperation and uncertainty. A part of her felt pity, she had seen that face before in the faces of innocent victims. As she stared back at the defeated Zabrak, she spied a larger rock behind him. It was a fitting end for Kul, a kinder death than the one she had dealt his friend. She lifted the large rock behind him and yanked it towards the back of the Kul’s head like a bolt. The Zabrak never saw it coming. There was a sickening crack and Kul crumpled to the ground with a single thud.

Watchful for sudden movements, Blade took a knee besides the downed warrior. She slipped a pair of fingers down against the side of his windpipe. She felt the artery pulse against her fingers. Faint but alive, she thought with satisfaction. Self-doubt crept into her judgement as she looked into Kul’s unconscious, peaceful face. He had tried to kill her like a hired gun. He deserved to die.

She stared at Kul’s claw. It was the mark of an animal, even if he did wear the face of a victim. In the end though, he was a victim. A victim made into an animal. She would save him, and save a lot of lives in the process. Her mind made up, she dragged his body to the edge of the arena and stared into the ravine below.

“Let your death mean life for another,’ said Blade solemnly to Kul, repeating an old warrior’s mantra.

Blade pushed the unconscious Zabrak off the edge, his body rolling off the arena into the abyss. Only the Force could save Kul now.