Pulley-operated, mechanical-lifts descend into the earth below the Arena. The Abandoned Mines pre-date the Galactic Empire by thousands of years. Once used as mining routes, the long forgotten network of interconnecting tunnels has held stalwart against the sands of time. After exiting, the lift begins its retreat back to the surface. Sporadic crystals protrude from the walls to quietly radiate ochre light like naturally-forming torches. The small alcove gives birth to a maze of wide tunnels supported by old, steadfast wooden beams.The tunnels spider and split off into various directions, some leading to dead ends while others ultimately lead back to the central Mining Shaft.

The central Mining Shaft is square pit that descends into a deep pit that radiates a luminescent, cerulean glow from the horde of crystalized shards still growing below. The air hangs with a cool, windless chill. Stone stalactites hang ominously overhead, flanked by jagged jutters of rock and sediment that line the ascending walls.

To reach the surface, blocks of stone wide enough for two humans to stand side by side on, shift back and forth in a combination of a lateral and ascending patterns. Each cubic platform is controlled by a mechanical pulley and each cubic platform will eventually pass close enough to step over to another. The spacing and timing is not attuned to any formal pattern, giving equal balance to both Force users and Mundanes. Whatever your talents, the shifting cubes are the only way to ascend back to the Arena.

Holocam Drones flit about the caverns, recording a live video feed that is transmitted back up towards the surface and projected over two large holodisplays for the crowd to observe. Progress will be watched as members are tried and tested.

The Grand Master’s only concern is the resourcefulness and resilience of his members. Reaching the surface will be no easy task, and doing so will be the only way for fighters to move forward in the Tournament.

Motes of dust floated in the dank air, illuminated by the luminescence of the shards jutting from the walls, casting strange shadows across the walls of the central shaft. The grinding of stone upon stone travelled through the tunnels, a warren that could confuse even an experienced caver.

Sanguinius cast his eye over his surroundings, suitably impressed by the first arena chosen by the Grand Master. He had not wanted to participate in this tournament, but his Clanmates had chosen for him; most likely to rid themselves of the Jedi in their midst. He smiled wryly to himself at that thought, good thing that this tournament was not to the death.

The Ragnosian wondered who his opponent would be. He had discussed the other challengers with his fellow Sadowan, Shi Long, during their journey to the rendezvous point. The Entar knew that they would face several tough opponents. He had planned for many of them, studying their dossiers and identifying their weaknesses and coming up with ways to neutralise them. Sanguinius did suggest the possibility that the Combat Master would find a way to make him face his brother, Timeros Entar. Shi Long had snorted at that idea and claimed that he would be the one to face such a celebrated opponent.

Nobody stood before the Warden; no one was there to extort their virtues, their strength, no one to shout how they would steal victory from him. The lack of an enemy was a concern to the Jedi, something that didn’t sit well with him. The dank chillness of the air sunk into him, making him involuntarily shiver. Sanguinius focused upon the wellspring within him, centering himself and opening his mind’s eye. It pierced the shadows within the mine shaft and allowed Sanguinius to identify his hidden opponent, who welcomed him with open arms.

“My dear Sanguinius. How lovely to see you again.” V’yr stepped forward from the shadows, her robes accentuating her form. The Herald’s golden eyes were full of compassion and friendship, her stance open and welcoming.

The appearance of the Neti left Sanguinius flabbergasted and his surprise at facing one of the Dark Councillors in the first round was evident as his jaw dropped. He had hoped to face one of the Tarantae, or one of the Palatinae. They would have been easier to beat. But V’yr? A fellow Jedi? There was no competition, no need to fight. The Entar cursed to himself, his mind running through the scenarios. He hadn’t planned for her, not for the General. He could find no reason to cross blades with someone he respected and actually supported.

“V’yr, this is a pleasant surprise,” Recovering quickly, Sanguinius bowed slightly, greeting his compatriot. “I did not expect to find you here.” The Sadowan’s gaze was drawn to the Neti’s hair, the brown tendrils moving of their own accord, the combination of the blue light from the crystals and the lack of foliage gave the Warden an impression of a terrifying mythological beast from his homeworld, the Medusa. Vomit abruptly filled his mouth, as the unwelcome thought raised his hackles. Sanguinius swallowed, the bile burning his throat. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The Vanguard smiled and moved to embrace the human. Sanguinius allowed the embrace, his mind still whirring to come up with a way to win this round. V’yr towered over the Sentinel, who himself was already quite tall. The Marauder broke the embrace and stepped away from Sanguinius. “You can thank the Grand Master, he asked for volunteers from the Councillors. Naturally, I jumped at the chance to get away from him for a bit.”

The Ragnosian nodded, as if in agreement. “So, I know I have to fight now. I have no intention of losing this round.”

“Must we?” replied the Herald, “Here we are, two old friends. Why must we resort to violence?”

Sanguinius gestured to the floating holocam drones watching them. “The crowds are baying for blood and will pay handsomely to see two Jedi fighting. Hell, they might actually learn something from it. But....”

“But you have no wish to cross blades with me, do you?” enquired the Neti.

“No.”

“Then we shall help each other up to the top and decide who will win when we get there.” V’yr gesticulated towards the blocks of stone that slid in and out of the mineshaft walls. “Plenty of room for two people at a time.”

“V’yr...” Sanguinius smiled.

“What?” the Guardian replied.

“You read my mind.”

Disgruntled hoots erupted from the gathered crowd seated in the arena. Holocam feeds covered the “duel” from the mine through a live feed and recorded the combatants’ interaction, displaying it for everyone to see. The gathering yearned for battle and turmoil, and the friendly interaction prompted enough noise to annoy the Grand Master. He waved his finger at one of the underlings scattered around him.

“Make the contingency known to our unwilling competitors.”

“It will be done, Lord.”

Minutes passed as he observed the duo steadily climb the stone blocks moving about the mine. Their show of camaraderie sickened him. Finally, the underling brought him a communication device which was swiftly passed to Valhavoc, standing only feet away. With a wave of the Dark Lord’s hand, the order was given.

“Attention competitors!” Valhavoc’s voice thundered through the mines, making the duo stop in their tracks. Vorsa’s brow furrowed as she gave Sanguinius a worried glance. Something was very wrong and she had an inkling as to what.

“The Grand Master’s Invitational Tournament,” he emphasized the last word before continuing, “Is a competition of wit, strength and skill. If you will not fight, you will be forced to.” He waved his hand as two masked Inquisitors, followed closely by Evant, dragged out Vorsa’s Magistrate, Seyda Norith and Sanguinius’ apprentice, Mactire Chemel. Bound with energy shackles, the two Journeymen were paraded before the gathered crowd. Some of the members of Naga Sadow and Taldryan stood up, outraged by what was transpiring, but the Grand Master stared them down. Only one of the Taldrya remained standing in defiance of his gaze — their Consul — and waited, seemingly, to see what the Council was planning.

“Due to your reluctance to compete, we are changing the rules. Competitors!” he exclaimed, raising his voice again. “Seyda Norith and Mactire Chemel are in our custody. Whoever reaches the top first shall save their protege. The other one dies. If you attempt deception, they both die. If you do not compete, they both die. If at least one of you doesn’t reach your destination, they both die. Do not destroy the arena.” He paused again, giving a satisfied smirk as the crowd cheered. Finally they would get what they desired.

“Begin!” Valhavoc ended by dropping the communication device on the marble table and adjusting the holocams to show the competitors’ faces in glorious detail.

Vorsa and Sanguinius shared a look of complete horror for a mere moment before fully realizing what was happening. Surely they wouldn’t go this far for a mere tournament? Vorsa certainly knew the Grand Master to be mad enough, or indifferent enough, to do something so violent. And he would kill them regardless, if only to punish the Jedi for ruining his Tournament. There was but one thing to do.

“I’m so sorry,” Vorsa whispered, leaping from her crouched position just as her crimson blade hissed to life. Sparks flew as plasma seared metal and the whole block Sanguinius stood upon dropped under his feet. Only the Human’s quick reflexes and ethereal intervention saved him from two very broken ankles or worse injury. Vorsa ascended to an adjacent block as it ascended further up the main shaft and exhaled deeply.

“This is no longer a game, I am afraid. I am sorry, my friend. I will not allow anything to happen to your apprentice,” she finished as she leapt to the next stone block in line, giving the Human a sorrowful look. She had no choice and she had to move quickly.

Sanguinius’ expression hardened as he jumped onto the first available block, the Force aiding him in along the way. As he landed, he drew his blaster rifle, took aim and pulled the trigger. The shot carried towards the Herald with an apparent lack of precision, deliberate or otherwise, but it was enough to make her sidestep from the moving block onto the closest available space. She jumped to a lower stone just in time to avoid the blaster fire. Vorsa grunted at the delay and leapt towards another block just as Sanguinius began his steady climb.

His block carried him close to the outer wall and he saw an opportunity: a clear line to reach his opponent’s height. The Quaestor leapt towards the nearby niche in the massive wall, vaulting off of it towards the next stone block. He stepped lightly over several more, finally reaching his intended target. He was a story lower than the Herald but he had a good view of her.

“Why are you doing this? We can do it together,” Sanguinius yelled over the sound of stone grinding stone as he slowly took aim.

“No, we cannot. You do not understand, and I have no time to explain. Leave me be and let me help them.” The General rushed across several blocks in a flash, catching a fortunate sequence between them. Her sixth sense rang like a bell at noon as a stream of bolts scorched the weathered and rusted metal holding up the block and severed it from the high-tension cable. With a short leap, the Neti was out of harm’s way and holding onto a neighbouring block with her fingers alone.

“Stop, or I will shoot you,” Sanguinius threatened, aiming at her hanging form. “Please.”

The General paid him no heed as she dragged herself up and straightened, readying for her next bound. She couldn’t stop now. Not when lives depended on it.

His arm wavered, the blaster shaking in Sanguinius’ hand as his thoughts conflicted with each other. He wanted to save his student, but was also disappointed in how easily V’yr betrayed one of her own. The Neti had obviously been corrupted by her proximity to the Grand Master and his minions. She could no longer be relied upon to serve the Force like a Jedi. He grimaced as his mind was made up, he could not allow the Herald to win this fight.

Sanguinius served the Light, despite being in Naga Sadow. He acted as an example, that anyone could find redemption if they wanted to. The Sentinel had survived an encounter with the former Grand Master, Darth Ashen, when he returned to the Clan. He had survived the other Elders and had gained their begrudging respect. The Anaxsi had always refused to give up and he would not do so now. His arm steadied, aiming the blaster at the ascending Vanguard.

“You give me no choice, V’yr, you have been corrupted by Pravus.” Sanguinius shouted. His concern for the wellbeing of his student and his belief that a paragon of the Light like V’yr had fallen ran ramp shod over the Warden’s better judgment.

A torrent of orange bolts impacted the stone around the Dark Councillor once again as Sanguinius pulled the trigger. Horizontal columns of dust were raised from the wall, coating V’yr in it. She ignored the shots, sure that none of them would hit her. The Quaestor knew that he wouldn’t hit her with the blaster; the Westar 34 was designed to be used up close, but instead used it as a distraction.

Sanguinius unclasped the grenade that hung at his belt and focused upon the silvery ball with his mind’s eye. The Ragnosian flung the explosive into the air and let his thoughts send it skyward towards the errant Herald.

V’yr turned in mid-jump, a sixth sense warning her of the oncoming grenade. She gestured at it, deflecting it to her right. It collided with the wall and exploded, sending an expanding sheet of ice across the wall, the rapid cooling creating large beautiful crystals. V’yr shook her head, fully understanding of Sanguinius’ reaction. She landed gracefully upon the stone block she had jumped off, her mid-air pirouette halting her ascent.

“I will not stop, I will save my Praetor.”

Sanguinius gestured at a hovering cam drone next to his head. “You play into his hands, V’yr.” the cam drone crumpled and fell, smashing into pieces as it hit the ground. The Sentinel breathed heavily, his exertion at physically manifesting his will in the Force taking some wind out of his wings. His mind quickly came up with an idea to counteract the Guardian's advantage, mind games.

“The Grand Master needs us to fight; he needs us to foster hatred between the Clans, so that we ignore his crimes. You fought against him; you tried to save those he deemed undesirable...”

As Sang paused for breath, he heard the tell-tale sound of stone grinding against stone. The block he stood on began to sink into the wall. The Anaxsi tensed, drawing upon his reserves of energy. He bound up several blocks, catching the last one with one foot and pushing himself up onto the next one as it disappeared. The Warden caught the edge of the block that V’yr stood on, his hands struggling to find grip.

"The kidnappings will have incurred Naga Sadow's and Taldryan's disdain and wrath."

V’yr watched her fellow Jedi’s journey up the mine shaft, his words resonating within her mind. He spoke the truth, but the General could not allow him to affect her. She stepped forward, placing her boot on Sanguinius’ hands. He grimaced with pain as the Herald placed her full weight on his fingers. She had no real wish to cause the Sadowan harm, but the current situation called for an escalation.

“I’m sorry, my friend. But as I said earlier, I will not waver.”

Sanguinius cried out in shock as her foot lashed out to catch him in his face. The shock made him loosen his unsure grip on the stone block. He scrambled for purchase as V’yr removed her foot from his hands. The Herald kicked again, her face full of sadness at her actions.

The Quaestor fell into darkness, cursing the Guardian as he went. He slammed into a block several storeys down. Pain coursed through his body, erupting into a cry of agony as Sanguinius assessed the damage. The left side of his torso was on fire, the fire turning into an inferno as the Anaxsi gingerly touched his ribs. Feth, three broken ribs.

He visibly winced at his touch, a gasp eliciting from his lips. A cam drone swooped in, the lens zooming in to show the pain of the Jedi. Hoots of joy and laughter erupted from the watching populace. Betting was closed as the bookies decided that there was no way the Sadowan could win now.

With a sigh, Sanguinius sat up, pushing himself into a somewhat comfortable position. his mind racing as he assessed his current situation, it did seem hopeless to the Ragnosian. Above him, V’yr continued to ascend, her shame at her actions filling her with remorse.

The holorecorder moved in for a close-up of Vorsa’s expression. Shame and what seemed like regret covered her face like a veil as she stopped on one of the stone blocks, resting momentarily to regain her composure. She could sense the motionless young Human far, far below. A momentary jolt of fear for his life made her gasp, but she controlled herself. They were watching, after all.

The holodrone moved closer, gluttonous to capture every bit of emotion and share it with the raving audience. Buzzing sounds and smoke suddenly erupted from the electronic device as its outer shell slowly collapsed in on itself and crushed the weak internal parts. It tumbled into the darkness as Vorsa released her invisible grip. Her expression grew cold as she scoffed and focused on her fellow Jedi.

”Sanguinius!” she roared into his mind, as demanding and forward as she could be. ” If you want to save your apprentice, get up. Now!” The order in her voice was palpable, clear and unyielding, but the Human did not move. He leaned back on the wall and refused to budge to the commands of a perceived traitor.

”Get up! Fight me now and save your apprentice.” Vorsa stood up and peered down, seeing the Human in the distance. Her gaze revealed no more of the shame or sorrow, only cold determination. ”Get up!” she roared in his mind again as she jumped towards one of the distant blocks on the other side of the main shaft. Her saber came to life again, slicing a steel support cable holding one whole line of blocks aloft in the middle of the room. The massive stones fell towards the floor sluggishly at first, whipping the cable across the walls. Soon enough they rocketed down like massive bullets, aimed at nothing in particular.

Sanguinius rolled away in an attempt to dodge one of the stones from crushing him. It smashed into his resting spot only moments later. Another dropped not some fifty feet away, crushing a metal cart under its massive weight. Shrapnel and dust covered the Warden, forcing him to cover his nose and mouth from the particle cloud. He groaned as he picked himself up from the dirt, his ribs shooting jarring pain through his body. He ripped a piece of his robe, torn as it was from the fall, tying it across his face and tossing the rest aside.

Vorsa observed his recovery and gave him a smile as he looked up at her, eyes finally full of conviction. Had he realized what her plan was? She certainly hoped so as she jumped onto the last available stone and into one of the many mine tunnels spreading throughout the complex. She would have to climb several sorties through the tunnels to reach the elevators to the surface, but the mine tunnels spread in a maze, like veins inside a sleeping behemoth. Even so, he would find her soon enough.

The Warden, some five stories below, focused all his thoughts on his damaged ribs, beckoning the Force to his aid. Relief washed over him, as well as a sort of serenity he always felt when tapping into the never-ending well of the Force. His ribs readjusted themselves and slowly and ever so slightly healed. It wasn’t the perfect solution, but it would keep him from losing his lungs and losing this duel. With several test jumps in place to determine his readiness, and several jabbing shots of pain, he was certain he could move more-or-less freely. He charged the first stone block and jumped on it effortlessly, sidestepping on the next only moments later with fine alacrity. Stone after stone, step after step, jump after jump her came closer to his adversary and closer to his goal. This time, his sabers would do the talking.

The crowd erupted into cheers at the sight of the underdog forcing himself up and moving forward with determination. They expected blood and by all counts they would soon get their fill. A Dark Councillor defeated: that was the wish of every lowlife Journeyman, Novitiate and Undesirable who watched the Tournament. One so high and so tall brought low by a mere Quaestor. What a sight that would be. All the holocams across the field focused on the ascending Warden, while only one other sought out the wayward Herald — and the Dark Council was more interested in her feed than his. Valhavoc stroked his chin at James as the Master attempted to find the Neti in the maze, without luck. It was hard enough to sense her beneath all the rock and rubble, let alone pinpoint her location, and the holocam could have been anywhere.

“She knows what she’s doing,” Valhavoc commented bluntly. “She’s baiting him, buying herself time. She knows we won’t stop the duel or cut it short. The crowd wouldn’t approve.”

“I could care less about their wants,” Pravus retorted, focusing on the feed and the zipping holodrone seeking the Herald through the mines. “But I am interested to see what she will do. She has proven resourceful, even against our attempts at testing her. Evant’s Inquisitor, Aabsdu’s attempt at forcing her hand against Selika, even your attempt at assassinating her all failed. But she has a weakness, and this duel will expose it for everyone to see.” His voice remained level and cold, just like his expression. It even made the other Councillors shudder. He had some plan for the Neti, for certain, but what that was no one knew.

Far below their feet, Sanguinius had reached the entrance to the tunnel. Resting for several long moments to catch his breath, the Warden observed his surroundings for any means to reach the top quicker. The sheer wall gave him little hope, and the mine tunnels themselves offered a very confusing maze to navigate. He would have to adjust as he went.

The corridor was damp and soggy from the rivulets dripping from the cracked ceiling. Residual water pooled in the middle, corroding the metal tracks leading deeper into the caverns. Sanguinius stepped inside and around the puddle as he spread his senses in search for his opponent. He could feel her, faintly glowing in one of the tunnels above him, but couldn’t pinpoint her exact location. At least she wasn’t far. The Warden rushed through the caverns as fast as he could, stopping only to sense his opponent’s position every so often. She remained in the same spot all the time, seemingly waiting for him.

Minutes later he entered an open area, with branching tracks, leading off every which way. He could clearly sense Vorsa’s presence in the cavern now, though still her exact position eluded him. The holocams that had followed him so closely until now were nowhere to be seen, but he was sure they watched with great care.

Soon enough, just like before, the Neti stepped out of the shadows with a cold expression on her face. He lightsaber came to life, bathing her ochre armor with crimson light. The clear threat prompted a scowl from the Warden as his own lightsaber flew into his hand, ready for the inevitable duel.

”Fight. You have to fight,” she sent him another message. This time he felt her anxiety, her fear. He could tell the message was pleading more than threatening, a clear contrast to her stone visage. Only her eyes betrayed what she really felt. He knew then what she was doing. He saw it in her at that moment. She hadn’t fallen. She hadn’t betrayed him. She was just buying time for their proteges. Buying valuable seconds until she thought up a plan. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the hovering drone recording the action, and his lightsaber lit up immediately. He knew what her plan was now. Or at least he hoped.

The Neti charged first, slashing her blade at her fellow Jedi with resolve and intent to harm. the crowd jumped from their seats, cheering as if in a bloodsoaked trance. Blade clashed on blade as Vorsa spun in pirouettes around Sanguinius, aiming for a chink in his masterful defense. Her blade became a blur of motion that the Warden seemed to anticipate and deflect. Any jab that passed his lightsaber was sidestepped or dodged in a timely manner, forcing the Neti to intensify the bout. But his wounded ribs prevented the Warden from attacking. He was on the defensive and she pushed him back through the tunnel and up, towards the elevators.

As they slowly reached the tunnel exit, Vorsa stepped into Sanguinius’ guard, knowing he wouldn’t cut her down, and slammed her fist into the ground. A shockwave of pure telekinetic energy erupted from the point of impact and spread like a tidal wave. The force of the blast knocked Sanguinius off his feet and into the large room housing the elevators to the surface. Inside the tunnel, however, one of the drones that hovered particularly close smashed against the wall and tumbled on the floor, fizzling and sparking as it tried to ignite its damaged repulsors again.

Sanguinius rolled sideways and onto his feet, feeling the same jarring pain he felt before. He picked up his blade again just in time to block an incoming slash from the Herald. She pushed him back again, back towards the elevator. With every mighty strike, he could feel his arm give way under the pain. His ribs cracked again under the unrelenting onslaught, but he would endure. As they both stepped on the elevator Vorsa simply flipped the switch that made the platform rise. Blade clashed against blade until, finally, the elevator reached the top and Vorsa stepped away, deactivating her weapon. She smiled.

The crowd went silent. They were expecting something more exciting, something truly spectacular: a severed limb, a badly wounded Jedi, perhaps. A dead one, preferably. None of that happened.

“No need to fight, anymore, Sanguinius. Lower your weapon.” Still, the Warden kept his weapon high, as yet unsure what the Herald’s conclusion was. Boos and hoots erupted from the gathered crowd, shunning the lack of violence the combatants displayed. She turned towards the Dark Councillors, and the hostages, and spoke so the whole gathering could hear her.

“You wanted us to finish the challenge. So we have. We’ve both arrived at the top together. Now release them, and render your judgement on us, if you must.” The crowd fell silent again as she spoke, turning their gaze towards the Grand Master.

His expression betrayed no emotion, but she could feel his irritation. But this was an eventuality he had predicted, and bet on. He knew her weakness and knew she could be easily manipulated.

“Release the boy,” Pravus motioned with his open palm. “Sanguinius, you have proven your resilience and for that I release your apprentice. He will not be harmed, and neither will you. You may go to the medical bay.” Several droids arrived to help the Jedi on his way. Before leaving he looked at the Herald and nodded solemnly, unsure whether to shun her or thank her. They would meet again, he knew, and they would talk.

Pravus turned his gaze to Vorsa again, staring her down. “And as for you. Your Magistrate will remain in my custody until such a time as the Council decides on a proper punishment for your insolence.”

The threat was clear enough, its message tangible. Even though she manipulated this match, Pravus still held all the strings in his hand. He smirked for the first time since the match began, watching her leave the arena with a battle won but a war still raging.