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.

Takagari perched himself on the only standing pillar in the ancient arena. Intel had brought the Battlemaster here to intercept a data chip transfer for a new guidance system. Today would be the day he could close this case and return the prize back to Clan Naga Sadow.

A light cool breeze steadily blew across the arena, DarkHawk took pleasure in feeling such little subtleties. Within that very breeze, the Equite caught the aroma of rum. The Sith reached out with the aid of the Force, feeling the presence of life around him. He could sense the plants, and trees around him. There was another, he could not make out that presence completely.

DarkHawk crouched on his perch and intentively scanning the area waiting, watching. Near the old rope bridge, within the forest movement. Branches cracked, bushes could be heard from footsteps crashing over them.

Surely this cannot be my target, thought the Battlmaster.

There from a small clearing of the forest, a small figure appeared. Stumbling to the weathered rope bridge, the figure almost fell through the tainted ropes. DarkHawk watched as the figure before him traversed the bridge.

As the figure managed to complete the bridge to steady ground. The Equite could make out some features and assessed that the man causing all this ruckus was a Ryn. As he set foot on solid ground from the bridge he fell to his knees, worshipping the sure foot footing he was now on.

DarkHawk watched the scene intently and did not want this man to interfere with his investigation.

“You should not be here Ryn…Leave!” the voice echoed through the acoustics of the arena.

The Ryn looked around trying to find the source of the booming voice. As the Ryn focused in on his surroundings, he caught a glimpse of a black clad figure on top of the pillar.

“I am not leaving, I have a job to do.” replied the Ryn.

DarkHawk stood upright and jumped off the pillar. He tucked himself into a tight ball and flipped landing silently. The Sith walked towards the Ryn and once again told him to leave. The two were almost toe to toe, the Sith had a foot and half height advantage.

The smell of alcohol was seeping out of the pores of the sweaty Ryn. Without any hesitation at all the Ryn caught the Equite with a right cross.

“Do not tell me what to do assassin!”

Blood filled the Battlemaster’s mouth. The blow was harsh and painful. DarkHawk felt nothing but rage and then acted on it. The Sith spit out the blood pooling in his mouth, as he stood upright he grabbed the Ryn’s left arm, with the motion of his body DarkHawk maneuvered behind the Ryn pulling his adversary off balance and throwing him across the arena floor.

The Ryn landed sternly on his right shoulder. Dust clouded over the Ryn, he moaned as he landed. Trying to get back up the Ryn fell face first to the sacred ground.
“Now Leave,” growled the Sith.

As DarkHawk turned around to return to his perch, that familiar feeling washed over him. As he turned and looked over his shoulder the Ryn stood waiting…

This is what happens when some schutta swaps out me whiskey fer rum, go and punch tha first bloke I run inta.

Bleu spat on the ground and glared at the tall, armored Human. At least he thought it was a Human. Hard to tell with the funny looking helmet, but the build suggested at least a near-Human. The man was watching him carefully as he worked his right shoulder in a circle. He'd had enough warning from the Force to at least roll with the blow, but it had still been unpleasant. With a sigh, the Ryn pulled his bottle from his jacket; already the half empty vessel sloshed a bit as he took a long drink of the rum within.

"Where do you think you are going, friend?" asked the Ryn, his tongue feeling strange. Bloody rum.

"I told you. Leave. My task does not involve you; I will not hesitate to cause you further harm." The armored figure pointed towards the bridge Kordath had only just crossed.

Sod that, barely made it across the first time, he mused as he upended the bottle, taking another drink. "No, no I think you and your poor manners need some adjustment, good sir!"

Kordath clenched his left hand,— down by his side— and pulled at the Force, channeling it towards his palm. He saw the armored figure's head cock to the side. Oh, that's curious. Oh, kark, no it ain't.

"Are you a Jedi? You do not look like one of the Odanites." The Sadowan slowly stepped towards him, curiosity obvious, as well as some wariness.

"Really?" responded Bleu, raising an eyebrow and lifting his hand at the man. "Racist."

"Wha—" began the Human, confused by the declaration and surprised by the flash of Force-conjured light that filled his vision. He clutched at his eyes with one hand, hissing in pain and lifting his other to send a crackle of lightning towards the casually dressed Ryn.

Hair rising from the sudden upswing of electricity in the air, Kordath stumbled to the side, trusting his instincts to keep him from getting fried. He hadn't lied. He really did have a job to do. Intel had suggested someone would try and intercept a Lotus courier working in the area. The Arconan's task was to keep said thief busy, because who better to stop a robbery than another thief?

The best way to stop it was to simply put the man down, he decided, lifting his bottle above his head and jumping at him. If the armored man hadn't been recovering from his sudden blindness, it was unlikely he’d have ever attempted such an attack. As it was, the bottle smashed across the man's armored forearm, suddenly thrown up in defense. Now how did he know I was gonna do that? The jagged edges of the bottle scraped across the Human’s arm and scratched his unprotected lower face, drawing blood.

Bleu felt pleased with himself right until he sensed a surge of power and found himself flung back several feet. He tried to roll with it, only to find himself hitting the base of a pillar with a dull thud. The Arconan lay there for a moment with teeth gritted in pain as he did a mental inventory of his bits. None of his bones seemed to be broken, but he'd feel that one after he sobered up.

Not that that'll be a big—oh, right, smashed me bottle. More on tha ship. If I get back ta tha ship. Just gotta hold this fellow fer a while.

Kordath groaned as he got back to his feet. He saw his foe standing tall, blood dripping from his face. In the man's left hand was a grenade, in his other a lightsaber with another on his belt. He watched the canister get slammed into the ground, and heard the signature snap-hiss of a saber activating. Smoke began to fill the area, rapidly obscuring the space around them. The Ryn dug into his pockets, threading his fingers through the brass knuckles hidden inside.

This might hurt.

The Ryn momentarily lost sight of the Sith, the Sith however never lost sight of his target. The sight and taste of his blood fuel the Equite’s adrenaline. He reached out with the Force to see the Ryn distracted by the smoke. He saw that confusion before and had to capitalize on the moment. Still maintaining his connection with the Force, the Sith bent down in a crouch and used the Force to propel himself upward. The Equite landed silently behind the Ryn.

The Ryn with his own connection to the Force whirled around and caught the Battlemaster with another right cross. The brass knuckles added to the impact of the punch. They raked across the Sith’s face, the power behind the punch twisted the Sith around.

What the hell just happened? DarkHawk thought. The stars that passed through his eyes were just as real as the moment was. He was nearing unconsciousness, he had to compose himself.

Jesus that hurt…

“Ye like tha feel of that?” asked the Ryn.

DarkHawk centered himself and quickly focused his mind on staying conscious. He continued with the motion of the punch and spun completely around. Simultaneously bringing a tight arc saber strike down in front of his body. The tip of the blade narrowly missing the Ryn’s face. Kord’s eyes opened widely watching the blade pass before him.

The Sith focused his vision so that there was only one image instead of multiple images. The Ryn stood before him and DarkHawk could make out the brass knuckles. No wonder he thought.

The Ryn took very little time to keep the scales tipped in his favor. He rolled forward and used his small stature to his advantage. Closing the gap between the two combatants, the Ryn maneuvered in tight against the Battlemaster’s body. Landing two solid kidney blows before a huge elbow came crashing down on the Seer’s head. Now the Seer became engulfed with stars in his vision. His staggering was more apparent and almost found himself crashing to the stone covered ground. DarkHawk hastened sideways executing a skipping side kick catching the Seer square in the solar plexus.

The Ryn went soaring across the arena and once again found himself crashing against the stone floor. He could taste the blood in his mouth and if it was not for his own connection to the Force. the blow he just suffered may have collapsed a lung. But the loss of air from the kick was very present.

The Sith came in from the Ryn’s right side. Dragging his saber across the rock foundation of the arena, sparks arcing, illuminating the diminishing smoke of the smoke grenade. DarkHawk stomped the Ryn one more time in his exposed torso. The Ryn’s body curled as the blow nearly folded him in half.

The Wraith moved with precision and snagged the Seer by the shirt collar and hoisted him off the ground. Bringing the two nose to nose, the blood from the Battlemaster’s facial laceration almost flowed onto the face of the Seer.

The Seer looked almost limp, but that was merely a rouse. The Seer was very adept at drawing his opponents in allowing them to think he had been bested. A third right cross made its way towards the Equite’s jaw.

Not this time good Sir…

This time the Equite was ready, as the blow closed in the Battlemaster summoned the Force once again, reaching out to the Force and guided it with a thrust of his palm towards the Seer. The energy rush pushed the Seer across the arena floor.

DarkHawk made his way closer to the Ryn. The only thing the Seer could focus on was the blue illumination of the Battlemaster’s saber. The Seer took a wild left swing, the Sith was able to step to his right and out of the blows way. Another hard right cross reinforced by the brass knuckles came sailing by Takagari’s head. The Sith stepped inside the punch and caught the Seer’s inside elbow.

Spinning with his own movement, DarkHawk dropped to the ground while placing his left foot in the abdomen of the Seer. Launching him off his boot heel and outward, the Seer flailed through the air and over the edge and into the abyss.

DarkHawk moved to the edge to look for any signs of life.

Damn…

Kordath staggered through the smoke, trusting his mental senses to track the Sadowan. The blazing glow and hum of his foe's saber helped. What didn't help was that the blade nearly took off his arm when he tried to slip in and strike the man. He stumbled back in surprise, wondering how the Human had managed that one.

Luck? No. Maybe. Right, see if he can do it twice, eh?

He crouched low and tried to punch the Human in the knee. Again he had to jerk back, the saber coming closer to his fist than he cared for. It made sense; the man was capable of defending himself in this cloud of smoke he'd created. Just as he'd been able to protect against his bottle before while blinded. Kord's mind moved sluggishly, the rum taking its toll.

This was a bleedin' trap it was, drawin' me in here so he could chop me ta bits. Bollocks ta that. Huh, but he ain’t attackin’ when I get near, just waitin’ till I make a move. Either way, without a blasted saber of me own I ain’t layin’ a finger on tha bastard.

Kordath backed away from the sound of hissing, buzzing plasma and moved towards the center of the platform. Crouching behind the base of the same pillar that had stopped his short attempt at flight earlier, he waited and focused. Part of him wished he had a chronometer; he wasn't sure how long he still needed to keep this cowled shcutta busy.

"Hiding now, Ryn? I gave you the chance to flee, to leave with your life. What is your purpose, why do you antagonize me?" he shouted, turning in place, before pausing. "Ah. You are a delaying tactic. The data chip. You intend to keep me from it. I understand now. I should have seen it sooner. No matter, I can dispatch of you and still obtain what I seek."

Kordath watched from his hiding spot as the smoke dissipated from the area. He saw the man's offhand reach into a belt and pull something glinting and metal from it. Bleu was tired; he wasn't sure how to take the armored figure down. He was bigger, stronger, and seemed ready to defend from his usual tricks. His eyes studied the armor anew, noting the bits that looked lighter than the rest.

Stripped down? Could be why he's so bleedin' fast. Can nae get a good hit in and I do nae really want ta kill tha bloke, so what do I do?

He heard the crunch of boots on leaves or something blown in from the surrounding forest. Bleu looked up to see the towering figure stalking around the area. He was searching, looking for the hidden Ryn. Kordath focused on the spark inside of himself, the Living Force that would allow another Sensitive to find him. He pushed it down, trying to hide it, and pressed himself further against the pillar base. Bleu reached into his coat and pulled out a flash grenade, dropping his knuckles back into his coat. He glanced between the patrolling warrior, who was working his way closer in his search, looking under fallen pillars and around debris, to the nearest walkway that lead back into the forest.

A boom some ways away from them drew both of their gazes to the sight of a shuttle lifting off and headed skyward. Kordath stood slowly, grinning as he recognized the craft. A warning from the Force screamed at him, making him drop to the ground as a shuriken shredded the air above him.

"Sorry, friend, but there goes my reason for being here," he shouted from the ground, pulling the pin on his grenade and tossing it at the man. Bleu scrambled towards the bridge, fighting for balance against drunken fatigue and the concussive force that swept over him. Halfway across the bridge he felt something pierce his shoulder, too tired and focused on running to avoid it. It spun him, knocking him to the old rope railing of the bridge and snapping it, sending him down into the depths. Kordath yelled in surprise as he fell into the ravine, lost from sight in the fog.