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.

Howlader awoke with a grunt and as his eyes began to focus, his mind filled with questions. Where was he? How did he get to wherever he was? Why was he on the ground? Most importantly, his mind asked, why was he wearing pants? He scratched at his beard, trying to remember where he was before showing up in this cold and sparse room. Was he in his quarters at the Home? Was he on the ship? Nothing seemed to make sense. Howlader tried to retrace his steps in his mind, his eyes began to notice other things in the cold room: A lightsaber, his combat stamps, and a number of his weapons: a diamond sword, an emerald dagger, and a number of others. Noticing the centre of the room, Howlader spotted a bar stool and a sack of potatoes. That made little sense to him – but he moved on and continued to scan.

On the opposite side of the large room, a green-haired man was slumped on the floor, with a lightsaber, a bryar pistol and a green stalk of some sort at his feet. That man could only be Halcyon Rokir Taldrya, Howlader’s own Proconsul. Howlader was relieved – they were in this together, and could find a way out.

From seemingly out of nowhere, a booming voice began to speak: "You two are now in the thunderdome. Two men enter. One man leaves. Go."

Howlader noticed that Rokir had already risen and collected his weapons, evidently, he was taking this thunderdome business seriously, and Howlader realized a need to defend himself. With Rokir approaching more quickly, Howlader worked up his energy and ran towards the centre of the room, vying for the bar stool and the sack of potatoes, in the hopes of distracting his opponent. Unfortunately, he stumbled along the way and crashed, falling flat on his face and consequently knocking over the stool and spilling potatoes onto the floor of the room.

Halcyon could only let out a long, loud sigh as he looked down at the fallen man. "Howie," Halcyon began, trying to keep his exasperation out of his tone, "why do you even have a sack of potatoes?"

"Well, you see, I was getting hungry..."

"And the bar stool?"

"Well, I needed a place to sit..."

"And all your sac awards?"

"Well, I wasn't entirely sure what I could use to cut the potatoes..."

Halcyon just stood there, staring at his Rollmaster. One of his hands automatically moved to his head, his fingers kneading as temples to try and stave off the headache that had begun to form.

“It’s my turn to ask the questions around here, Halc!” Howlader announced, as he tried to puff out his chest and look intimidating. “Why in the hell are you with all those weapons, huh?”

“Because I always wear them!” Halcyon yelled back.

“But you were chasing after me!”

“I was coming to see if you were ok, ya damn oaf!’

“Oh...but, wait, what about the bamboo you had there?”

“I found it around Karufr, and knew you were always looking for snacks, so thought I’d bring it over to you, before we ended up in whatever the hell this place is.”

“Oh, well, that’s good. So yeah, um, where the hell are we?”

The voice that answered was neither of theirs, but it made both of their heads turn. “You boys, are in the Thunderdome!” They could recognize the same booming voice from earlier, but now they could see who it was. She had platinum hair that flowed down her back, caressing her chocolate skin, with legs that seemed to go on forever.

“Boys,” she spoke, her voice invading her minds, “two men enter, one man leaves!”

"Yeah," Howlader began while stretching out his old and tired joints, "we are obviously not going to do that. Or, well, I am not. Your little game of thundering domes is over - so you can take your weird shiny hair and just leave us be."

Displeased with this weird lady’s impertinence, Howlader’s resolve began to grow. It was one thing to be dragged out of his comfy chair or bed – these days, that happened all too frequently for Howlader’s taste, so it was almost normal. But to be thrown into a room with weapons and then told to fight one of his closest and most trusted friends? That was another matter entirely – and that would not stand. He cracked his neck muscles to the left and to the right, reached for his lightsaber and then…

With a crash, Howlader ended up in a disheveled ball in the corner of the room, with a pain in his…well, everything and everywhere. Was this woman a force sensitive? Was that a blast of energy? Or was it some sort of new weapon? She evidently was serious about this whole one man leaving business. This was going to be more difficult than he originally thought

Howlader, finally getting out of his self-talk, looked around at his surroundings once more, readying himself for a counterstrike against this mystery woman – but much to his surprise, she was nowhere to be found. Was she using a hologram? No…

"Howie! Over here!"

Howlader looked towards the centre of the room at Halcyon, who was standing over the silver haired woman, slumped over the bar stool. She had smoking ligthsaber sized hole in the middle of her chest.

"What did you do, Halc?"

"You were obviously distracted – or were the distraction, I’m not sure – but I took the opportunity to finish her off. Now let’s go home."

"Uh....how? There's no door."

Halcyon gestured over to the corner of the room: "It's over there, Howie."

The two men suddenly began shuffling towards one another. Their eyes had glazed over, and they never bothered to touch any of the weapons or other items they had brought with them as they came within striking range. Howlader lashed out first, swinging wildly with his right hand. The former Chancellor was not what one could consider a fighter, even though he commanded the powers of a Dark Jedi Master. If he was in his right mind, which is rarer than one would believe, he would never had resorted to hand-to-hand combat. It was clear that neither Taldrya had a handle on their full faculties, and instead relied on whatever innate abilities and talent to fight it out.

Halcyon never bothered moving as the punch, if one could call it that, missed him completely. He instead continued forward, swinging his own fist and connecting solidly with Howlader’s chin. The mysterious woman looked on, her lips moving to a song only she knew, the music barely audible to the two fighting men. The music however seemed to be building to some crescendo, but it was ignored at the moment.

Howlader had fallen hard onto his back, but he never muttered a word as he tried to get back to his feet. Halcyon brought his foot around and his toe rammed straight into Howlader’s temple, sending him reeling right back to the ground. The kick seemed to knock something loose in his head as life seemed to return to his eyes. He looked up, seeing Halcyon staring down on him with hazy eyes.

“Halc! That damn bitch cast some voodoo or something. Snap out of it, man!”

Halcyon kept staring back at him, as the music that had been playing in the background suddenly burst forth in a crescendo.

WE DON’T NEED ANOTHER HERO

Howlader rose to his feet, grasping Halcyon by the shoulders and shook him hard.

WE DON’T NEED TO KNOW THE WAY HOME

“Dammit man, wake the hell up!”

ALL WE WANT IS LIFE...BEYOND THE THUNDERDOME

Halcyon responded with a knee in the groin, dropping Howlader to his knees and following up with another roundhouse to his head. Howlader fell to the ground, unconscious, drool already beginning to form around his open mouth.

“Well done,” the mysterious woman suddenly spoke as the music in the background faded away, “my champion.”