Reaver Tra'an Reith di Plagia vs. Adept Tasha'Vel Versea

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.

The padded room was silent but for the hissing of the gas. As both combatants swung up and around into a sitting position, the shimmering mist swirled as they breathed it in, their bodies seeming to twitch as one.

It was an eerie sight to see, of the pair seeking not to engage each other in dialogue, but coming to terms with the disastrous setup of the deceitful Combat Master, leaving them with few choices and less options with which to make them than normal.

Tra'an Reith stood and stretched, before his tall form stretched and produced a dull pop pop sound, as he righted himself. The Sadowan Elder seemed to have no need for such things, her lithe form coming to an upright position with a grace and elegance that belied her many years of combat hardened form and function.

They turned slowly to face each other, golden eyes from within an ivory desert marred by a crimson river engaged with emeralds set in an ocean graced with islands of shadowed meaning carved into its very existence. The pair nodded at each other as their eyes slowly came alight, bodies shuddering as adrenaline dumped into them from the drugs, pushing them to conflict.

Still, they resisted.

Predator recognized predator, even as their control ebbed in the constant pressure of the compounds of Vincent's favorite toxin of choice.

Combat started as it often does, all at once. Tra'an was half way across the room, Sapphire Blade fully drawn and raised to strike, even as Tasha'vel had her daggers raised to catch the scintillating weapon. Prepared to catch it upon her own crystalline weapon and riposte with the shadowed death she'd been given from the Sith Tombs on Antei, the Twi'lek was surprised by the loud snap of the Kaleesh's right thumb and forefinger heard almost at the same time as a burst of pure light blinded her.

It was not enough to prevent the automatic response of decades of sustained war and combat, the block and riposte instinctive even without the gift of sight. No less capable with eyes unaffected, the di Plagia shifted his weapon to catch the riposte in a block, only for the tingle of imminent danger to warn him of impending death. With a crouch and a kick, he disengaged as the hands of the former Obelisk glowed and discharged directly at him while still clenching their blades, only for an obstruction of Force driven will to absorb them and then shatter under the sheer power of the impact.

It was then that he felt it, the shock of his Barrier being destroyed so casually flushing his nearly enraged mind long enough to perceive the subtle and insidious weakening of his connection to the Force.

The mist swirled as the Adept of the Sith stared back at him, eyes cleared of the remnants of the weakened trick, grin slowly stretching from ear to ear.

The drugs seemingly worked overtime to provoke Rage within them, only just failing to do so as Resolve held on just a little longer before Tasha'vel pounced.

Tasha’Vel could see the Khaleesh finally, though she cursed Vincent and briefly concentrated her breathing to limit the drug’s intake on her; she refused to let it dominate as she then smiled. “Not bad, young one; allow me to show you a little trick of my own.” She let go of the daggers and let them float around with the Force, making them spin and fly towards Tra’an as he used the Sapphire blade to keep the daggers at bay. This allowed her to draw out a beautifully crafted Echani force-imbued blade. As she pulled the dragon’s hilt back from its sheath, a crimson red glow surrounded Morra’s Vengeance, her heirloom blade, as she charged forward and brought it down upon the Khaleesh in an upward strike. She then lunged forward, aiming to take flesh. Thankfully, he spotted it in time and parried back with his sapphire, returning the strike and taking some of the black cloth on her arm, causing her to retreat backwards.

“Good, keep it up.”

She cirlced him like a predator, carefully observing his movements as she raised her left hand, sending the daggers circling menacingly around him. Again, she closed the distance and delivered several powerful, flurried strikes, forcing him to move back. She was so much stronger than he first thought; he hated it.

He would figure a way to get at her.

Unfortunately, the drugs had now starting taking over; his adrenaline skyrocketed as he let out a primal growl deep within his chest. His yellow eyes now were observing her movements better.

As she pivoted, he saw an opening.

Allowing the hatred he had of her strength to fuel him, Tra’an swiftly sheathed his Sapphire blade and ignited his lightsaber. A howling, horrific scream erupted as a harsh, powerful copper beam came forth from the hilt. Taking the opportunity while Tasha had stopped for a half moment, He charged forward and struck downwards, the blade catching a bit of her shoulder; however, the cortosis weave prevented the blade from piercing through completely, allowing her to bring her weapon up to block it from her body.

“Someone’s learning.” Her emerald eyes sparkled with glee. “Show me what you can do.”

She then moved back, sheathing Morra’s Vengeance, now drawing a blue colored quantum saber hilt and another similar colored lightsaber hilt to both of her hands. “Vilruna and Varactas, illuminate!” With a crackling, vibrating hiss, the blades came to life in a brilliant violet-colored display. She began to twirl them magnificently in her hands like a spinning death wheel before pointing them at Tra’an.

“Dance, Khaleesh.” She smirked, her face lighting up with a cruel smile. Returning the daggers to her sides, the azure Twi'lek hurled both lightsabers towards Tra’an. They crackled as they spun around violently through the air towards him. His yellow eyes widened at how precisely they moved; her control of telekinesis was impressive, leaving him seconds to react before they reached his body. Thinking quickly, he leaped upwards as they came, allowing them to pass under him; he could feel the deadly heat as he barely cleared the blades.