Master Mune Cinteroph vs. Lord Halcyon

You had arrived on Arx after hearing word of a fighting tournament. It had been set up by the Combat Master and had been advertised as a Revival of the long held tradition of naming a Champion of the Antei Combat Center. As you had arrived at the signup table after waiting in line, you were met by a Trandoshan who looked you up and down, said nothing, and slid a form attached to a clipboard to you. A cheap chain linked a pen to the clipboard.

You read it over and it was a standard legal waiver noting that you could not hold the Combat Master or the Brotherhood liable for any injuries or even potential death that occurred during the tournament. You were entering this tournament of your own free will. Any and all repercussions of doing so were at no one’s fault but your own.

You signed, and the Trandoshan hissed with delight as he pointed to a door behind the table. A cheap paper sign was taped to the door that read “ACC Championship Introductory Meeting” in what looked to be felt-tipped black marker. You stepped inside the dark room and that is the last thing you remember until you woke up just now.

The world around you was dark… and soft. The area that you lay on felt just a bit more firm than a standard pillow. A quick check of yourself revealed that you still wore and carried everything you had when you had signed the waiver. While vision was extremely limited, you could tell that someone else was in the room with you. Four ceiling lights clicked on, one at a time, giving the room a bright glow beneath the four lights, but an eerie darkness outside of their radiance. You were in a padded room with a barred and sealed door. Every surface of the room was covered in thick, firm padded square tiles. You lay on a bed made of the same material in one corner of the room, while someone laid in another bed in the opposite corner. It was too dark to make out their figure well.

A holoprojection dropped from the ceiling, giving the room a pale blue glow. It was Combat Master Vincent Brujah. The Sith smirked as he began speaking.

“So, you’ve signed up for the tournament? Where I come from, that makes you a little crazy. I’ve taken you to a more appropriate environment for someone with your condition.”

As he smiled, pink mist began spraying from the ceiling at the same location as the lights. Slowly, what little you could see of the full room began to tint pink. The Combat Master’s smile grew wider.

“And if you weren’t crazy before… well… we can fix that. The effects of this drug will be pleasant… at first. You must be careful, though. Take too big of a dose and things can get downright terrifying, or so I’ve heard. Prolonged exposure will result in death.”

He shrugged slightly.

“The only way out of this room and into safe air is when I tell my crew to open the door, and I’m only going to do that when there is one of you left capable of walking away. Until then, enjoy the ride.”

The holoprojection blinked away. There was no starting whistle. No horn. No audience. Just silence, dim light, and the realization that the longer you sit there, the closer you would come to death.

They watched the holoprojection blink out, leaving them in silence with only the subtle hiss of gas into the room. What Vincent said stuck in both their minds. It was clear the whole thing was set up as some twisted game for the Combat Master’s amusement. Being that it was a tournament, there was no necessity to create a situation to force the opponents to fight. It was expected.

Mune and Halcyon were both intelligent. Both would have come to the same conclusion. Rather than surprised, the Shistavanen and Human were instead annoyed at the silliness of the exercise.

The Shistavanen’s eyes flicked to the other side of the room, noting the man in green. They spared no additional thought as to who it was they were expected to fight. They would have recognized the Human anywhere. The Arconan rose from the bed, noting the Human following suit. They watched Halcyon closely, making certain the other Elder was not about to make a move. For his part, the Human eyed the canid, almost passively, a look Mune noted before breaking the near-perfect silence. “I don’t suppose you’re particularly pleased with being his entertainment.”

Halcyon made a simple gesture that Mune took as a no.

“One does wonder where the Brotherhood finds these people,” the Shistavanen added.

Mune scanned the room, studiously taking in their surroundings. They had little doubt the room was built to withstand any damage they could potentially do in the limited time the gas permitted them. The gas, likewise, limited the time the Oracle had to puzzle out a solution other than playing into the Combat Master’s game. Their eyes flicked to the vents from which the gas streamed. Purpose-built, Mune could only surmise, and by no means something the trapped Force-users could take advantage of.

Halcyon watched his opponent, observing the Shistavanen working out the space they found themselves in. For his part, the Human knew of one certain way to escape the cell; whether he wanted to play Vincent’s game or not remained up in the air. The Force was directed through his body to slow the poison’s effect. Could Mune do the same? The Human patiently swept the space with his gaze, noting the same things he suspected Mune would have well noted already.

The Arconan felt the effects of the drug-laced gas first as a strange calm. They felt good, too good. The Shistavanen made a mental note of it, turning their gaze back on their opponent. Seemingly unaffected, by all appearances. Mune nearly giggled but stifled it. Was it the absurdity of the situation? Or the gas?

“Interesting what qualifies as a prestigious martial tournament, hmm?” Mune commented.

“Right,” Halcyon answered simply.

Mune turned all their attention to the Human who shared the padded cell. Without a second thought, the Oracle reached out through the Force, as came naturally to them. Opening their mind to the paths ahead and potential ways out of the Combat Master’s twisted game. Instead of the shifting and coherent images they were accustomed to, an explosion of fragmented images crashed through their mind.

… Halcyon’s weapon ignited.

… A feral roar.

… Blood splashing white walls. Rivulets of vivid crimson against white stark white.

… A crumpled and torn pile of green cloth and an unmoving body.

… Fur and blood splashed across the floor.

… The door opening. The door staying closed. Unhinged laughter coming from all sides.

… One of them walking out. Both of them walking out. Neither of them walking out.

… A pink haze. Darkness. All-consuming darkness.

… Animalistic growling.

Mune wrenched themself from the kaleidoscopic images to the sound of their own animalistic growl. They had to remind themselves to control their breathing; they could not afford to inhale more of the gas. Was there a hallucinogen in the gas? If that were the case, Mune wondered to what extent they could depend on their abilities. From the look of the Human and his calm demeanour, they realized too that it was very possible the old man could decide to simply wait it out. He could outlast the Shistavanen.

“It would appear we have no choice but to play his game,” Mune concluded out loud.

The Human nodded thoughtfully. Vincent had planned well; as twisted as using the gas was, it forced them to go along with whatever he had in mind. He was certain he could outlast Mune if they continued to do nothing. If the Shistavanen attacked, however, it meant having to redirect the Force toward combat. What move would his opponent make? The Human was patient. He had more time than Mune. The Oracle likely understood that already.

Halcyon did not expect the canid’s grin to turn feral and the wicked gleam in their ruby eyes.

“Think it’s flammable?”

“What?” Halcyon’s eyes widened slightly.

Fire erupted through the cell. A brilliant eruption of twisting flames. The gas ignited; particles burnt up in an instant. The walls, ceiling and floors were scorched by the vicious whirlwind of flame.

The Force responded in an instant, saving the Human from harm as the maelstrom engulfed him. His barrier flickered and rippled under the onslaught.

Mune waved a hand; the flames dispersed and were snuffed out.

The beds were a ruin. The walls did not fare much better. Mune hoped, perhaps out of pettiness, that the repairs would be very expensive for the Combat Master. “Consider that a warm-up,” the Arconan muttered, words highlighted by the soft sound of still-smouldering wall padding.

The Human was incredulous.

The lights flickered overhead, damaged but not destroyed. The vents injecting gas into the room were likewise damaged, limiting the gaseous flow into the space. It bought time. The Elders stared each other down, watching each other for any sudden movement.

“Gambling is not a way to win a battle,” Halcyon spoke, as if warning the other Force-user.

“Debatable. Many a victory can be attributed to a gambit taken successfully.”

“As can many a loss.”

“Your age is showing, Halcyon,” Mune jabbed.

“You still talk too much.”

Halcyon reached for the Force. Mune did so first. The bed behind the Human lurched off the floor and was sent flying at the man’s back. The more experienced fighter ducked; the scorched frame sailed over him. Halcyon, with a thought, threw a hand outward and lightning arched the distance between him and his opponent. The attack never made contact. The Shistavanen had a hand out; the metal frame of the bed stabilized in the space between them. Electricity danced and sparked along the conductive skeleton of the wrecked piece of furniture.

Halcyon wondered only for a moment why the Shista used the furthest object for the trick. The question was answered as quickly as it entered his mind when the other bed came crashing toward him from his right side.

Lightning dispersed. The Human’s lightsaber snapped into his right hand, ignited, and in one smooth motion, cut the bed frame in twain to pass harmlessly by. He rolled forward just as the first frame flew past where he had stood a moment before. Halcyon turned his narrowed gaze toward the Oracle.

“I see.”

“Do you?” Mune was no longer grinning.