History speaks of the origin of the Clone Wars on Geonosis, and the first major clash between the Jedi and the Sith. The Colosseum draws inspiration from the fabled Petranaki arena, certainly, but was built with a more contemporary audience in mind. Located on the planet that serves as the new seat of the Brotherhood's central power, Arx, the structure was rebuilt and renovated from the shell of an ancient foundation that had barely weathered away against the planet's ever-changing climate.

High walls, tall enough for even the most savvy Jedi to find unscalable, line a large field of ancient sand and sediment the size of a holoball field. The spectators' chairs are divided into neatly organized sections with seats bunched close together to accommodate anywhere up to a few thousand people. At the center, an elongated platform “box” has been constructed with a central throne of stone with various seats of smaller scale lined beside it in both directions.

Two large holo-projection screens are set up on each side of the Colosseum, offering different angles of the fight via Holocam Drones.

While unassuming at first glance and looking very much like an archaic gladiatorial arena, the Colosseum features a medley of traps and surprises built into the floor and walls at random intervals. These obstacles include, but are hardly limited to: retractable nozzles that can shoot out gouts of flame; battery-coils that can spit out tendrils of electric current; receding floor panels with electric shock panels; deep pits with sharpened spikes and more. At some points, the ground can simply erupt upwards and create a concentrated, if not impromptu angular-platform that could be used as a springboard or temporary high ground. While seemingly random, these obstacles are handled and triggered by a sentient operator in a control room within.

You and another member of the Brotherhood have been set against each other in the arena. You may be fighting a dispute between your clans, for the honor of you superiors or friends, or for a personal slight done to you by your foe. What is certain is that the battle is to the death, before the roaring crowd of Arx.

Almost as important as defeating your opponent is playing to the crowd. In the Colosseum, not even the Grand Master can overturn the verdict of the mob. Should the tables turn on you, you may find yourself spared by the crowd for your performance. Overshadow your opponent enough, and you may seal their fate once and for all.

The Arena was filled with thunderous applause as the energy of the night had finally reached a climax. The final battle was set and was one the crowd had been chomping at the bit to experience. The credit pool overflowed as next on the docket was an Odan-Urr affiliate set to face a Zabrak Jedi.

Oba's thought process differed slightly as she saw nothing more than a poser, but she could still be proven wrong. However, her arrogant swagger would not allow her to think in such a way as her flamboyant boots sunk into the sands of the Colosseum.

Beneath her helmet the tip of her tongue traced her canines which fell from the roof of her mouth like the stalactites in a darkened maw. Her lips pursed in amusement as the Jedi entered her field of vision, slipping out from beyond the large entrance. There were no theatrics, just a somber stride.

Her amber eyes flicked over the Zabrak and surveyed him as the miners of Kessel would examine their potential resources. She was an excellent observer and quick to pick up on details, however subtle they may be. The man was dressed in robes and beneath it all she knew there was a lightsaber. Oba trained with Jedi on many occasions during her employment with Odan-Urr, so she knew what to expect. If the Zabrak's claims were true and he was a Jedi? She knew what to do.

The targeting reticle within her helm chirped as it continually kept a bead on her opponent. She was always ready to fight, but this required more finesse. Jedi normally didn't seek battle let alone fight in an arena. This Jedi either wanted to practice or teach a lesson. She really didn't want a lesson, they were too boring for the way she enjoyed to live. Action, to Oba, spoke much louder than words.

Dust kicked up around the Defender as he stopped just meters away from the Devaronian and the crowd erupted once more. The tension rose to levels of thickness that Oba admired as a quality in her fine liquors. A slight smirk creased the corners of the Zabrak's mouth as he tucked his arms behind his back.

The female Devaronian tilted her head and waited.

"My name is Ria'd, small one."

And there it was. The trigger.

"What did you call me?"

"I-I meant no offense."

With speed and fury those 'small' hands slid to her waist and with smooth draws she brought her Westar 35's into play. They glistened as they caught the sunlight just right and without hesitation she took aim, unleashing with a growl and volley of red bolts.

Yet, frustration shook her, almost hard enough to rattle the grenades strapped to her belt as each of her shots were dissipated by a greater energy. Where they should have landed, they merely melted away. The towering Zabrak stood unscathed, looking down on his attacker with disappointment and steely eyes.

"Anger is a pathway to the Dark side," his voice rumbled.

He certainly sounded like a Jedi but she had heard enough. It was time to kick it up a notch—or several notches.

Normally Oba had an idea of who or what she would be facing in the Arena. The booker was generally solid with providing details. For whatever reason he neglected to tell her anything about this fight.

Ah, right, that debt, she chuckled to herself, brandishing her weapons for another maelstrom as she rolled on her heels and took cover behind a crumbled pillar. The blood soaked pores of the stone held onto the memories of those who never made it out. The battle scarring of the Arena was haunting. Some wounds never healed.

Choom, choom the tubular combustion of tibanna sent bolt after bolt as she grit her teeth and bared down.

The towering Zabrak swiveled away from the first few shots as if he saw them coming long before they were ever fired and with a motion as smooth as Oba's shimmer-silk cloak he ignited his laser-sword.

Schutta, she snapped as the blade caught each bolt and swatted them away as if they were an annoying swarm of insects. Yet, none of them were sent back at her. She admired his patience but was slightly disappointed. She desired a fight and hungered for competition, here she was, shut down and left starving.

"Are you seriously just going to stand there!?" Oba complained from behind the pillar, whining like a child disappointed with a new toy.

"I don't want to fight you," Ria'd replied, a solemn look still graced his face as Oba scoffed in response.

"Well," the Devaronian said, smirking as she retrieved a small cylindrical object from her utility belt. "That's a damn shame ain't it!?"

She threw the object towards the Zabrak's feet as the object came to a stop right in front of him, a noxious fume bursting out from the canister. Ria'd didn't need the Force to guess just how dangerous this gas was as he back-stepped several places quickly to get out of its deadly range.

Little did he realise this was exactly what Oba had planned. She rolled out from behind the pillar and unleashed a deadly flurry of blaster fire upon him once more, hoping to land a decisive blow against her taller opponent. If he was going to insult her height, she would be damn sure to make him pay for it!

The Jedi centred himself in the Force, allowing it to direct the flow of his movements. His elbows bent, blade kept close to his body, it took only quick flicks of his wrists to alter the movement of his weapon. Quick and reactive, his blue lightsaber met each red laser and deflected them off to his sides. Some to the ground, some to the surrounding pillars, but none back at Oba and especially not into the crowd.

The Devaronian smirked to herself as she approached him. He was a typical Jedi and wouldn't cause harm unless he had too. To her, this made him an easy target, granted one that didn't fight back which seriously annoyed her, but she'd take an easy win when she could get it. She kept up her assault, unrelenting and vicious, she could taste victory and Ria'd was beginning to struggle to keep pace with her expertly placed shots.

That was until she felt a vibration beneath her feet. She'd experienced these plenty of times before and knew exactly what they meant.

"Oh come on, not now!"

Her plea went unanswered as a platform suddenly rose from beneath her feet and lifted her several metres into the air. For the first time in the battle, she towered over Ria'd as the crowd went ballistic at the sudden change in dynamic.

"For kriff's sake!" She bellowed as she started to make for the end of the long structure only to be surprised when the towering Zabrak leapt up to the platform and suddenly, the pair were face to face with each other.

"Please, I don't want to do this," he said with a distinctive despair to his voice. Unfortunately for him, she didn't listen. She raised her Westar 35's to his face, intending to end this fight with point-blank shots only for the weapons to be slapped out of her hands, a red bolt fired up in the air before the weapons left her fingertips and dropped to the sands below.

Oba didn't allow the sudden loss of her weapons to phase her as she attacked with her full strength, delivering across-body punch directly into the solar plexus With his left hand, he deflected the strike to the side and moved around her flank as he sheathed his lightsaber and placed it back on his waist.

"For kark's sake! Will you just listen to me for two seconds!" Ria'd said, desperately trying to get her to stop attacking him.

"What is with you? You know this could be a fight to the death right!?" Vez responded as she straightened her leg and lifted it for a kick set straight for the Zabrak's baby makers, only for him to angle his body and grapple her, allowing her momentum to carry her forward. She responded with a high elbow to the Jedi's jaw as it forced him to release his hold of her. "Do yourself a favour and put up or shut up!"

"No!" Ria'd protested. "I didn't want this, I didn't want to fight or kill anyone. I was captured and forced to fight against my will. I only want to help people, I never wanted any of this. You have to understand!"

His words startled her. She was aware some were captured to be used as sport for the crowd. Hell, she'd fought and taken the prize money for their heads. They were always scum of the universe, the lowest of the low within Brotherhood domain. Drug smugglers, slavers, murderers, thieves. It was part of the reason she never had such an issue dispatching them. But Ria'd? He was different. Just a Jedi outside of Odan Ur that she had to defeat to get a decent pay-check, not to mention keep her alive. The crowd jeered and taunted the pair, unsatisfied with the lapse in combat and Oba knew if she had any hope of surviving the final verdict she'd have to defeat him to win them over.

"Sorry, big guy. But it's you or me and I ain't dying today!"

Suddenly, a small dart shot out of a device attached to her wrist and embedded itself in Ria'd's neck. He didn't have time, nor the space to react, and the effects of the poison in his bloodstream was instantaneous. It numbed him, made his legs wobble as his movements became more sluggish.

"I... "

That was all he managed to say before Oba kicked him off the platform with a hard boot to his gut.