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.

The corridor of leading to the Duelist Hall seemed abnormally quiet as the lone Zeltron's steps padded softly along toward the solitary door at the far end. "Come to the dueling hall," the note had said, very simply signed by her Battle Team Leader, Bentre Stahoes. With her recent appointment as his sergeant, Qyreia was not entirely surprised that he would want to test her abilities - at least, she hoped that was the extent of his intentions. The mercenary was still sore from her fight with Tasha'Vel, so this would prove to be interesting.

"I really hope he doesn't just plan on murdering me," she muttered. "What did you do today, Q? Oh nothing: just got my giblets torn to bits by another crazy Jedi." Her mock conversation belied her clear knowledge that Bentre was not an actual Jedi, being of the darker Sith variety. "Whatever," she said, trying to boost her confidence as she came to the door. "I'll show him why they call me the Red Qek!"

The door slid open and she walked in, seeing Bentre waiting patiently in the center of the room. "You're late," he said casually as she approached.

"A Q is never late," the mercenary said with a grin, "nor is she early. She arrives precisely when she means to."

"Clever."

"You also didn't specify a time," she clarified for good measure, to which he simply shrugged.

"Tash says you're good with a blaster. Shall we get started and see just how skilled you really are?"

Before Qyreia could even respond, the Sith bounded back in a grand leap that evoked a quiet "Frack" from the Zeltron as she unslung her carbine. With lightning reflexes, he pulled a hefty blaster pistol from his jacket and sent a flurry of green bolts flying. His reflexes were fast, she could give him that much, but his aim was thrown off by his haste. As a pair of rounds peppered around her feet, and another whizzed by her shoulder, she took aim down her sights and put a well-placed shot right on the human's center of mass.

Still in high-gear, Bentre only just managed to sidestep the counter-fire, pulling hard on the trigger as he lay down some covering fire for himself. As he narrowed his groupings, Qyreia was forced to do some dodging of her own though, not aided by the Force, the green energy often sizzled by far too closely for her liking. Maybe a ranged fight wasn't the best idea, Bentre thought as they traded shots. The merc was more accurate, but the Sith was more agile - a combination that made their bout an interesting tug-of-war.

“You know, I am honestly a little surprised,” Bentre called out, smiling over his blaster as he laid down more fire. “That Twi’lek girl is no push-over.” He watched as his shots went a little wide. This seemed to encourage the Mercenary a bit, as she jumped sideways, spraying him with a hail of returning fire. Stahoes side-stepped carefully, with the bolts sizzling past. “Though, who knows. Maybe she became went a little docile after serving under Sanguinius.” With a grunt, the Sith threw himself sideways.

This Weapons Specialist is far greater my equal than many in Naga Sadow. Then again, so many of our clan folk are so terribly obsessed with their lightsabers. It’s nice to see someone outside of the Warhost who can appreciate a good weapon.

“Don’t tell me that is all you have, peedunky.” The Shadow’s eyes flashed humorously as he . “By the way, did I ever tell you that you remind me of this girl I met on Nar Shadda?” His words were met with no pause but only continual blaster fire as he zig-zagged. The Equite wasn’t even sure his Sergeant had actually heard what was said, but he continued anyway. “You see, she was a fiesty one, and she took a very strong and immediate dislike of me, let me tell you.”

The Zeltron bit her lin concentration as she zeroed in on the Sith. She wasn’t going to let herself be distracted. She had spent enough time with her commander to realize he had the tendency to ramble on. To call him long-winded would be like calling water wet. Stahoes might have been agile, but he had to tire eventually. Arronen could afford to miss a bit if it meant luring him into a bad spot.

“I do have one thing I have to confess.” The Human smiled mockingly, “ it is not as though Tash’ was ever that tough a fighter. I scarred her up a bit in one of our scuffles.” Bentre’s smile widened as he changed direction once more. “So as you can imagine, I felt the need to come and test your mettle a bit.”

“You would almost think from the way you talk you have a thing for her.” The Mercenary shook her head.

With a laugh, the Shadow plunged a hand into his jacket. As his fingers closed on the metallic cylinder within, his laughter stopped for a moment. He reached into his jacket, and with a grunt threw out his clenched hand. The lightsaber activated as his arm extended out, the weapon spinning in an arc as it left his fingers. Qyreia’s eyes widened as the whirling blade drew closer to her position. With a cry, the Yeoman threw herself sideways.

Bentre did not waste any time using the pause in her assault to his advantage. As soon as he saw the Zeltron’s eyes go wide, he kicked off his left foot. He needed to use the chance to close to the gap between them. It is really too bad. From what Versea said, it sounds like she took it pretty easily with Q. She didn’t give her opponent a full display of her strength. That Twi’lek always was weak. The Sith chuckled to himself.

That was when his eye caught the familiar sight of something blue. Just out of the corner of his eye, he caught the sight of what he could have sworn was the Gray Jedi, her arms crossed angrily over her chest. It was almost as though Tasha’Vel had been summoned there by his ill thoughts. For a few heartbeats, Stahoes forgot himself. Without a thought, he shifted his stance to the left and turned his head. As his steps faltered, his gaze briefly returned to the spot where he thought he had seen his former rival. There was nobody standing there.

Bentre would have done better to have kept his eyes on his opponent. Despite the original oh-kriff reaction to the thrown weapon, Qyreia had quickly recovered. As the Shadow closed the gap between them, she had shifted her weight to her back foot, preparing to drive a hard kick to her commander’s more tender regions. The attack unfortunately did not make its mark. The sideways motion on his part threw the kick off target. Instead, it glanced off the lower part of Bentre’s shin.*

This was more than enough to throw the Corellian off-balance though. His faltered step became a stumble, and Stahoes lost his balance. Though months of practice allowed him to turn the fall into a rough roll, the Sith still had to pause for a moment. The blow may have been glancing, but a sharp pain shot down his leg at the point of impact.

“No witty remark?” Qyreia called out. “It almost seemed like you were tripping over yourself to show me up.”

“Don’t even think that we are done yet, Arronen.” Bentre glanced sideways, making note of his lightsaber’s location, somewhere behind his Sergeant. The sudden appearance and disappearance of Versea was an oddity he didn’t have the time to try to piece together at the moment.

She has no reason to be here anyway. He thought to himself. She should be off running her own House.

All that mattered at the moment was the fight at hand. He was going to have to focus. Drawing his vibroknife from his boot, Bentre tried to push off his leg. He would just have to try and push through the pain. He didn’t have to bring his best to the table. After all, Stahoes wasn’t planning to hurt her too badly. He needed her help to run his unit.

It would be just badly enough to make her pay for the bad joke.

I suppose you always believed that should be your department, huh Benny? The voice of Tasha’vel echoed in the back of his mind.

Despite his apparent distraction, Stahoes was able to retain enough concentration to keep a watchful eye on the mercenary before him. He had closed the distance before, but his recovery had given Qyreia time to backpedal and get some distance. She had learned all too well with her battle with Versea that her carbine was a much more effective weapon than her pistol or knife in singular use. As the Sith approach, she narrowed her cone of fire to the point that he had little room to dodge, yet still he managed to narrowly avoid the incoming red bolts that should have connected.

When Bentre’s expression narrowed, like that of a hunter closing on its prey, his motions shifted in a way that the Zeltron did not appreciate. He no longer simply dodged, but moved faster than he should have, presenting a smaller profile for her to hit in the process. Kriffing sorcerer, she thought, gritting her teeth as he closed the distance and brought his vibroknife to bear in a shallow slash at hip-level.

“I’ve got you now, Arronen,” he said as he felt his blade connect to solid matter.

His expression soured when that solid matter emitted a metallic ping against the knife. “Think so?” she retorted, quickly tossing aside the knife with the stock of her blaster.

The Sith redoubled his efforts, every attack a test of the mercenary’s defense. It was in no way graceful, but her handling of a blaster was ingrained enough that she could stave off her Battle Team Leader’s assaults with her ad hoc ripostes.

“Taking it easy on me, Benny?” Qyreia said, not one to lose an opportunity to rile her opponent. “Remember, I have red skin and your girlfriend has blue.” She took a swipe at his head with her stock, narrowly missing as he ducked beneath at the last moment. “Besides, I think she’s got the hots for me.”

She does seem to be getting the better of you, Tasha’s voice said through Bentre’s mind, the recurring echo breaking his concentration just enough for the merc to clip his shoulder. It didn’t have enough connection to do any damage, but it set the Force user’s mind back to the task, though the back-and-forth was taxing his concentration.

“Fine,” he said, slashing the Zeltron out of range. “Think you’re good? Let’s see you hit this.”

In the blink of an eye, the human vanished from sight, leaving not even the shimmer of his outline. Qyreia clicked her tongue, taking several steps back. I knew they could do this, but this is the first time I’ve seen it. Well this is just fracking great. Cloaked as he was, Bentre was utterly invisible so long as he remained stationary, allowing him to catch his breath a little as he considered his next move. His own blaster was at his side, and even though he could ghost it up, Qyreia seemed to be keeping one eye on where he had disappeared while she looked around the rest of the room. The shimmer of movement would give him away.

His eye caught the dark sheen of his lightsaber not far away. With a twitch of mental concentration, he nudged the weapon along the floor to test his invisibility. The lack of sudden attention by the mercenary told him it held. The second time he extended his arm through the Force, the weapon ignited in a blue blur as it spun in a sickening arc through the air right at the Zeltron’s back.

The distance was so short that she barely had time to even register the noise before taking a blind leap of faith to one side. Her reward was a strong stinging burn to left shoulder, tumbling into a roll and righting herself, only to see the shimmering outline of Bentre stow his vibroblade to catch his lightsaber out of the air.

“Mother-kriffing Hutt-humper,” she growled, hefting the carbine back to her shoulder and resuming her previous fusilade. The battle was only just heating up.

“Are you getting a little bit frustrated, stoopa?” Bentre slipped back into view as he dove sideways. In a smooth, practiced motion, the Shadow had his blaster drawn almost as quickly as he appeared. With a smile, the Sith let loose a barrage of blaster bolts. Hitting the ground, he slipped back out of view with a shimmer.

Turning quickly, Qyreia splashed over the area with a quick burst of weapons fire. Her efforts were rewarded with a loud, audible yelp as Stahoes slipped out into full view once again. From the way that he was clenching his flesh and blood hand, it appeared that she had been lucky enough to catch a limb.

“You are making it a little harder to handle a lightsaber, you know that?” The Warrior tried to laugh, but only managed to cough through a wince. “I am not so used to using it with only one hand- it is the price you pay for dedicating to one lightsaber form.”

“Pfassk Do you really plan to keep talking, waistoid?” Arronen called over another layer of blasterfire. “You really are not the brightest lightsaber in the system, are you?”

“Who cares,” Bentre snarled as he ran, struggling to keep just out of the bite of his opponents attacks. “If it keeps you busy.” Sliding down to his knees, Bentre slid forward before thrusting his hand upward an angle. Suddenly, the Zeltron felt the grip on her weapon falter. The barrel of her carbine was pushed upward. As her attention was split, the Shadow took advantage of the brief opening, flinging his vibroblade toward the Mercenary with deadly intent.

The woman's eyes fell away from her firearm just in time to see the knife hurtling toward her. Stahoes was skilled at throwing his weapons, or at least he seemed to enjoy it, but Qyreia's reflexes were faster. Keeping her right hand on the weapon's pistol grip, she used the Sith's telekinetic hold to lean out of the way of the knife as it sliced through the air, releasing her left hand's grip to reach down for the pistol strapped to her hip. The movement was quick, but awkward, and by the time she had released the heavy blaster from the holster, Bentre had seen through her plan and released his hold on the carbine, causing the merc's angled body to fall to the ground.

Impact with the floor hurt, but the finger that was already on the trigger squeezed off a shot that gave Bentre enough to worry about that the Zeltron could recover from the initial shock. He tried to recall his knife and, as with his saber, bleed Qyreia a little bit more. The outstretched hand tipped off the mercenary, and she rolled aside, holding the carbine flat against her as she fired with the pistol. The Sith tried to return fire, but he could only split his attention so much, and so his shots fell short as she continued to roll across the floor.

The slap of the vibro-weapon on his injured hand brought a sting of pain, and his attention faltered once again as he grit his teeth. "E chu ta!" The sound was music to Qyreia's ears, halting her rolling to see the Force user occupied by his own hasty action. Sliding up to a kneel, she slipped the pistol back into its holster and took up her carbine again.

Bentre looked up just in time to see his Sergeant aiming down her sights directly at him with a cold stare.

"Ah frack."

The Yeoman's first shot singed the human's shoulder as he dodged aside, firing blindly as he took to evasive maneuvers. The green energy whizzed by the red woman, wild and ill-aimed as Bentre took to evasive maneuvers that would normally be used to tire out a more melee-oriented opponent. Qyreia was firmly planted though, and while she could shift if a shot came too close, her cone of fire only narrowed until the Sith's movements became predictable and he had nowhere else to go.

Red energy first met the flesh of Bentre's hip, hampering his movements. He eschewed his blaster for his saber, managing to block the next shot only to have another hammer into his side and drop him to the floor. The blue blade hummed in his hand as he struggled to recover, but when he turned again to face his opponent, she was already standing and had cautiously shuffled forward to for an easier target.

"Don't suppose you wanna call this a draw, would you?" He tried to grin, but the expression was contorted in pain.

"I could just keep shooting you," Qyreia said flatly. "The power setting isn't fatal, but even you can only take so much punishment."

Voices rambled in the Sith's head, trying to force him into a rage against himself and against the Zeltron, but the image of the red woman standing over him, ready to punish him with more burning energy, tempered his emotions. Through the sweat slipping into his eyes, he could even see just how narrow the distance was between her trigger squeeze and a discharge. Stahoes decided it would be best to concede, deactivating his lightsaber and slowly shifting away from it.

"You win, Arronen," he said, raising his hands in a protective surrender posture. A real sense of worry simmered in his mind as she continued to glare down her sights at him for a moment. He sighed with relief when she finally let the weapon drop to her side. "You had me worried there for a bit."

"Yeah, well," she said, grabbing her Battle Team Leader's good arm and hauling him up, "last time I thought the match was over, I got cracked in the head by your girlfriend's boot."

"She's not my girlfriend," he growled, swiping up his weapons and stowing them in their proper places. "What about you?"

"She's not mine either," the Zeltron chuckled, hefting the Sith's arm over her shoulder, despite his resistance. "Now c'mon. Let's get you to the med-center and put some bacta on that."

"Quit acting like my mother."

"Quit complaining," he said, nudging the wound in his side, eliciting a falter in his step, "and I'll consider it."

Arronen’s eyes widened for a moment as she glanced back down and saw the approaching vibroweapon. The response registered for only half a moment, as she dropped to the ground into a couch, allowing the vibroknife to pass harmlessly over her head.

“Where are you little boasts now, you chuff-sucking di’kut?” Qyreia called across the room as she jumped up to grab her carbine as it floated in the air.

“Oh no you do not,” Bentre snarled as he threw out his hand. His lightsaber flew out from his metallic hand as the weapon ignited. Twirling in an arc, the weapon spun toward the Weapons Specialist. Both Zeltron and weapon began to fall toward the ground as Bentre’s concentration split. The lightsaber’s blade cut through the barrel of the carbine, narrowly missing Arronen’s head. With an angry cry, the Yeoman pulled out her DL-44 blaster, lining up a shot as the lightsaber flew back toward its point of origin. She gave the trigger three quick squeezes, causing the lightsaber to explode in a flash of sparks.

As the Zeltron leveled her gaze upon her commanding officer, she saw that the Warrior had his blaster drawn again. Seeing the barrel of Stahoes’ heavy blaster pointed at her, Qyreia instinctively shifted her aim and loosed two shots. The two bolts lanced through the air, one sailing just over Bentre’s shoulder and the other striking the shoulder squarely. The Shadow dropped to a knee, a grimace of pain twisting his features.

The Mercenary watched her Battleteam Leader as he silently clutched at the point of contact. After a few moments, the man spoke with a hiss, “Nicely done.” The words were slightly unexpected by Qyreia, but she did not lower her weapon. Shifting uneasily off of his knee, the Corellian locked eyes with his comrade. “She wasn’t too wrong about you, Arronen,” he tried to smile in spite of the pain. “I felt pretty sure that I had made an excellent choice when I chose you as my second in command. You have certainly shown you have plenty of spunk, if nothing else. Thankfully though,” the Sith rubbed his shoulder, clearly trying to act as though the pain did not bother him, “you have more than just your spunk going for you. We will have to do this again, sometime. If you don’t mind helping me off to get some bacta for this shoulder for now. Don’t worry your pretty head though, I will give you a proper fight next time.”

“I will believe that when I see it, stoopa.” The Mercenary retorted with a laugh.