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.

A creaky rope-bridge leads away towards another ancient suspended platform with the same weathered, upturned stones. Mossy footing, and uneven ground make each of these platforms unique in small subtle ways. While there is no seating for formal spectators, the ancient stones of the Massassi Arena hold an omniscient, aged wisdom that speak to the things they have seen and the battles fought through history.

A third rope-bridge leads to yet another platform, completing the triad of battlegrounds that make up the Massassi Arena.

Avians cawed high above the lush vegetation that lined the deep, echoing ravine. Their sweeping bodies drifted upon the updraft caused by the sheer difference of temperature between the upland and the downland. Nestled into either sides of this canyon, was a massive, round, stone slab with circular patterns rippling out from it’s center. Two rope bridges swayed hazardly on either side of the precariously settled platform, broken and rotting boards creating dangerous footholds which would lead, should anyone dare test their nimbleness, to two more similarly designed daises.

Pillars lined the skirting of the Massassi Arena, many weathered and fallen with time. It was on one of these tumbled pillars, that a lone figure sat, white hair tossed up into a loose tail, as she stared into the depths below. Zujenia wasn’t one to be afraid of heights, often preferring to free run through the streets of Estle city, onto roofs and off of foot bridges, yet her heart fluttered with the weary thrill one gets when staring at a drop of six-hundred foot or so. It was enough to make the Half-Ryn be cautious of the edge that was only a couple meters away. So, she settled against the carved stone, it’s surface feeling warm to her back as the overhead sun radiated heat onto the landscape.

Tan fingers interlaced above her head as she stretch, not sure of how long she had been waiting. Her dark amber eyes darted to the east, fixating upon a archway within the taller cliff side. No one yet transversed down it’s well masoned steps, which drew a quiet sigh from the Half-Ryn. She wasn’t impatient, no, but with the recent assaults on Selen and the hopeful return of Uji with more information, the newly promoted Knight was just a little antsy to get back to the Citadel. The serene atmosphere of Kalsunor aided in the passing of time, relaxing Zujenia.

Footsteps caught her ear, throwing her head over her shoulder, Zujenia locked onto a tall, athletically built individual. The tell tale black blindfold over where most humanoid eyes would be was a telling sign the man was Miralukan. He was dressed in jeans and a grey t-shirt with a black and red design printed on its surface. The image was faded but some of the lettering held, a year, a name, a place, likely an old promo shirt for some touring cantina band. A black leather jacket hung from his framely shoulders, long, brown hair draping just upon it.

Good, Revs is finally here.

Zujenia vaulted her legs over the fallen pillar, twisting her being around as she plopped down onto the slab. Bending, the Half-Ryn picked up her electrostaff that had been resting against the stone alongside her Tuskan Cycler. She left the slugthrower behind as she gingerly made her way around the weathered debris towards the center of the arena.

The recently assigned Gate Stewardess had called Revs to the planet after learning of the deserted training grounds from Marick. Perhaps it was the Echani influence from her adopted sister, but Zujenia sought to learn more about the older Knight through sparing and she had preferred to do so without a million eyes drilling, watching, and evaluating the two Qel-Dromans.

“Zujenia,” the Miraluka glanced around at the decrepted state of the platform, a light smile danced on his lips as he quipped. “This place ain’t no Combat Center. Where’s the weapon racks? The floor mats?”

“You’re here, let’s start.” Zujenai nodded, only a twinkle in her amber eyes informing Revs that his sarcastic display was noted. He waltzed forward to meet her in the center, his hands wavering at his hips in close range of his belt. The breeze swept at the two opponents’ hair, sending the rock slab rocking slightly, not enough to upset the two’s balance, but plenty to drive on last comment from the Miraluka.

“Yes, let’s get shaking.”

His brows furrowed with set determination as his hand drew the blaster pistol at his right hip. Zujenia whipped her electrostaff into both of her hands, tensing her muscles, she leapt backwards, flipping off of the ground three times, staff a horizontal support and focus, as several blaster bolts singed the ground.

Landing solidly on her feet, Zujenia launched forward, the Force licking at her muscles boosting her speed as she darted and wove through the rain of blaster fire. Closing the gap quickly, the Half-Ryn shuffled her feet into a swift spin, arcing the staff towards Revs’ gun arm. It connected with open air as the Miraluka tucked in his head and shoulders, rolling away on the uneven stone.

Within barely a breath of time, Zujenia ascended after him, staff working the fellow Shadow to and fro, testing his nimbleness and sureness of feet. A wave of warning halted her assault, granting her with enough time to twist her torso out of the pathway of a single blaster bolt. Nerves screamed again with the Force and she arced her back in an attempt to dodge the second blast. It singed into the folds of her wrapped vest, Zujenia gave a silent thanks that its trajectory wasn’t a couple more inches to the left.

Dark amber eyes locked onto the black blindfold, Revs seemingly focusing his head to affix her gaze. Zujenia was familiar to this unsuspecting action, having Atyiru ‘glance’ at her as such, but it still was a little off.

“Your reflexes and skill with the blaster are good, Revs.” The Gate Stewardess commented as the two continue to size up their opponent.

“What else do you got, Zuj?” Revs tossed at her, his voice light but his body tense, prepared for phase two.

The wind blew steadily, stirring the ancient dust on the decrepit arena. The two fighters stood facing each other in silence, each examining their opponent trying to find an opening in the others defence. It had been many months since Revs had come out of his personal training to work with others. In all honesty he was immensely enjoying this match with Zujenia.

The Miraluka watched the Half-Ryn’s form, her defence was almost impenetrable and he was almost positive the few openings she left were traps. He knew that the younger Knight was quick and would not allow herself to be hit easily. The Gate Keeper could sense that Zujenia was also holding back, trying to study and learn from him.

Revs didn't even try to hide the smile that spread across his face as he backed away from the woman before him. Extending all of his senses through the Force, the Shade Sworn started to walk casually in a circle around Zujenia. He relaxed all his muscles, to help further the illusion that his defences were down.

Spinning his blaster around his trigger finger, the Miraluka let off an air of cockiness. “Well Zujenia, tell me the real reason you brought me all the way out here.” Revs taunted. “I mean training, way out here? Really?”

“Whats wrong with this place to train?” The younger Knight asked sounding confused.

“Well there are plenty of better places to train back in port. Plus there are only two reasons to bring someone all the way out to nowhere. To kill them or to fool around with them, come on which is it.” The Assassin smirked.

“What! I..no..I just wanted to train with you alone, away from all the prying eyes.” Zujenia stuttered, sounding slightly annoyed.

“Ah. There it is. You just wanted me alone, you know we could have just went to my apartment. That would have been for simpler. I have this mirror over my bed, I mean I can't see it but some women seem to like it.” Revs teased

“What! Just shut up and fight you freak!” The Half-Ryn screamed as she charged at the Miraluka, electro staff spinning. Revs snapped his blaster to a firing position, as he fired three quick shots from the hip. Zujenia quickly evaded the bolts as she closed the distance to her opponent. The Assassin had to amplify his speed with the Force to roll under the spinning electro staff.

Coming out of the roll, Revs pulled a knife from his boot. Spinning to face the other fighter, a slight shiver ran through his body. The Miraluka threw the knife as he jumped backwards, the electro staff skimming across his chest.

The older Knight quickly rolled to his right, and jumped to his feet, ready to dodge another strike. Looking at his opponent, he could make out that she was clutching her left shoulder. The electro staff lying by the younger Knight’s feet. The knife had found its mark.

Revs reached up and felt the tear in his shirt, it was just sheer luck that he had dodged that last strike. Pulling his lightsaber from his belt, the Assassin triggered the activation switch, it's emerald blade springing to life. “I really liked this shirt. I've had it since I was sixteen.” The Miraluka pouted. “Well fine, let's get serious. Loser buys drinks for the night.”

The Half-Ryn’s chest rose and fell rapidly as her breathing became shallow, every inhalation spurring a sharp burst of pain from her shoulder. Blood trickled slowly through her fingers, flowing from the wound in which the blade had embedded. Zujenia had let her shoulder drop, rolling it forward protectively, instinctively.

Frack! She cursed silently, hand shifting to grip the knife’s hilt. Pulling it would result in heavier bleeding, yet--dark amber eyes darted up towards Revs--dueling with the blade still within would end with the weapon twisting deeper into the tendon. Gritting her teeth, Zujenia stiffened her muscles and yanked the knife free, tossing it halfway between them where it landed with a clatter--tip stained red. The pain pulsed into a roar that was slowly subdued as the Knight washed herself with the Force’s energy, masking it to a dull mumble after a few seconds of concentration. She glanced to the faded black bandanna tied to her left arm--the red arching, flared, circular design aligned towards the ground--and debated on whether or not there was enough time to upcycle the thing as a bandage.

Movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention--the Miraluka leaned forward, pushing off the ground and speeding his way towards Zujenia, green saber raised parallel to the stone slab. The Half-Ryn’s mind raced with her options as the distance between them closed. There was no way she could maneuver the electrostaff now, she would have to resort on her other weapons. The slugthrower was still resting near the edge of the platform, her vibroknife would force her to get in close--too close for comfort, and the lightsaber at her hip, well, the best option right now.

A growl sprang from her as she slipped her boot under the staff at her feet, propelling it at the advancing Gate Keeper who sliced the improvised obstacle in half. Zujenia spun, white hair whipping behind her as she drew her own cylindrical hilt, her right thumb brushing the activation button and sending the golden lightsaber ablaze. She slid her strong leg forward, a stance that felt alien to her, reversed to accommodate her off-handed grip.

Green and yellow sabers met, sparks flying as aggressive swipes were matched by a whirlwind of defensive parries. Sweat perspired on Zujenia’s tan brow, threatening to roll down into her eyes. She affixed upon Revs--watching his body language--trying to discern where his next blow would be. The Half-Ryn was growing respect for the older Knight, his skills in combat and resourcefulness was admiral, but now wasn’t the time to remark upon that. She needed to end this quickly, determine not to give the ground to the other Gate Keeper--feeling the need to prove herself as capable of leading the man.

Adrenaline pumped heavily through her veins, aiding her alongside the Force numbness to continue forward. Yellow lightsaber wove in front of her body, her right arm barely keeping enough coordination to deflect Revs’ swift and fluid thrusts. With a sloppy coil to the right, Zujenia created an intentional opening, hoping the Miraluka would fall prey to it--jabbing forward. Revs maneuvered his blade precisely towards that opening. She bit her lip as a wave of warning from the Force raced over her, upsetting slightly her wound and wholly expected. What wasn’t expected was her opponent’s over extended arm being drawn back to punch the lightsaber’s hilt out of her hand.

Disarmed and vulnerable, Zujenia didn’t ignore the next hair raising Force alarm that struck her--ducking her head and shoulder, rolling away as the Miraluka arced his saber at her, a slight grin on his face towards his success. The woman barely managed to draw herself into a crouch, grimacing. A flash of silver to her immediate right caught her attention, laying conveniently beside her was one of the severed electrostaff halves. Pivoting on the balls of her feet, her hands grasped upon the polearm, thumb testing the switch. Brilliant, purple tendrils of electricity coated the tip of the once whole staff, yet a couple small sparks snapped from the sliced wires.

Fingers tightened firmly, welcoming the metal as Zujenia stood and turned towards her approaching opponent. This ends now, she decided, her breath once again drawing short and the pain in her shoulder slowly breaking through it’s Force woven damper.

Revs finished closing the short gap, emerald saber elegantly cutting through the air from her left. Twisting into the assault, Zujenia blocked with the broken electrostaff, spinning off of his momentum and wrapping her right leg around his own--swiping him to the ground with her body weight. A grunt signal the wind being knocked out of the Miraluka’s lungs. Grinding her teeth, the Half-Ryn peeled his saber hand’s pinky back with her injured arm, releasing the green blade from his grip. It’s cutting light extinguished as it rolled away. Zujenia felt Revs’ muscles tense underneath her and she scrambled in response, placing her knees upon his chest, the biting end of her electrostaff half centimeters from his throat.

“Well fought, Revs. I,” she fought back a fresh flash of pain, “wasn’t expecting the knife.”

“Expect the unexpected.” Revs shrugged. “Likewise to you.”

Zujenia narrowed her eyes at him, her exhaustion making her wary of an attempt to overturn her. Her fellow Gate Keeper must have caught her expression because his chest rumbled with a chuckle.

“Relax, Zuj. You ended this fair and square. Besides, I can’t let the Gate Stewardess bleed out in my charge.” Revs shot a cocky grin. Zujenia’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance, she wasn’t under anyone’s charge, but the screaming twangs from her shoulder called for her attention. Rolling off of him, she untied her mother’s bandanna from her arm and, using her teeth and right hand, knotted it around the blood encrusted wound--Revs calling a shuttle to retrieve the two Qel-Dromans.