Two towering, tinted, transparisteel doors slide open to grant you access to the central chamber of the Combat Training Halls. The main room is wide and open and as large as as a holoball field. Tall walls stretch towards a domed ceiling that is made up of rows of ambient lights that spread out and fill the room with soft even lighting that eliminates any shades or shadows. Those same walls are lined around the perimeter with racks and stacks of varied weaponry: everything from swords and polearms to rifles and flamethrowers.

There are two signs that hover over each weapon rack to create an alternating motif in the Combat Training Hall: “No Explosions” and “Accorded Neutral Territory”. While the first is fairly obvious, the second speaks to the single law of the Training Halls: all members of the Brotherhood are welcome, and no member is to be killed or maimed without incurring the wrath of the Grand Master and the Inquisitori.

A trio of training dummies are statically set up and spread out in a line, each made out of a blend of alloys and padding that can withstand blows from any standard weaponry with the exception of lightsaber blades. To the side of the dummies, a large sparring matt has been stretched out to create a larger footprint than the typical Shock-Boxing ring. The padding is good for helping teach new combat students how to take a fall without injury and offers firm footing, but the hard durarubber mat is hardly forgiving.

Behind the sparring area is a door that leads to a small archives that combat students can use to view holorecordings of fights and duels from the past as well as relevant information on combat tactics, techniques, and forms. On the opposite side of the archives at the far end of central room is the locker room that members can safely store their equipment.

The final and probably most important element of the Combat Training Hall is the onsite Med Ward. The maglock door is sealed off and can only be opened by an attending Medic. The Medical facilities feature state of the art bacta tanks for recovery and aftercare. A combination of observation and waiting room rests adjacent to the recovery center and features two large monitors that display a live feed of the central room.

The Combat Halls are staffed around the clock, allowing combat students and mentors alike to come and go as they please at odd or regular hours. It also reserved for members looking to prove their worth to compete in the Antei Combat Center.

[Venue Note: Weapons incorporated into your match are allowed to be used, even if not listed on your Weapon Load Out for the match itself. Skill usage and all other ACC rules and guidelines still applies.]

Janos sat in the darkened training room facing the wall trying to calm his rapidly beating heart and all the thoughts tumbling about in his head. “What did I do wrong?” “Why is my Master angry with me?” “IS my Master angry with me?” “He HAS to be upset somehow, he closed down the entire Training Center for this!” Head spinning he called upon the Force to try and calm his senses and prepare him for the upcoming meeting with his Sith Master. As he drew upon the Force he became aware of what was around him. The smell of the sweat and blood in the heavy material of the sparring mats, the disinfectant used to try and sterilize the fluids spilled by numerous species as they fought each other. He felt the rough cloth of his robes against his body. He relished the comfortable weight of the saber on his belt and the solid assurance of the knife in his right boot. The hum of the air handlers registered as a low drone further relaxing him. Letting his mind broaden he could sense his Masters approach through the doors as they opened. He could feel the darkness that surrounded this warrior and shivered as he felt his guts turn icy and a cold sweat broke out on his head. “He’s gonna kill me! NO! Calm, calm, calm let the Force calm you…” Taking a deep breath he heard the doors open and the footsteps of his Master as he entered. Suddenly it got very quiet.

“Why do you sit in the dark Janos? Is it your desire to join me?” Sith Warrior Bentre Stahoes asked quietly.

“Nae my Master, tisna my intention.” Janos responded in his thick accent. “Ye called me here an I came. Though I doona ken why.”

The crackling hum of an igniting lightsaber filled the chamber and Janos started as he saw the blade form just inches from the right of head in his peripheral vision. “How in the gods names did he get so close?”

“I called you here, my Apprentice, because I am going to test you. To see what you know and do not know and what your Jedi Masters taught you, and what you have learned on your own.” He stated in simple terms as he lifted the blade away. “Oh and for the record, I could have killed you just then.”

Drawing deep into his soul Janos pulled from the darkest reaches of the Force he could muster, rose, and faced his Master. Looking him in the eye and willing him to feel the full brunt of the Force. Janos dug into his Master’s brain seeking out his fears and amplifying them ten fold. He smirked as the Sith Warrior reeled back screaming and covering his face. Janos then concentrated harder as he disconnected his own lightsaber from the right side of his belt. The grip feeling comfortable in his right hand he ignited the indigo colored blade. The chuckling and mocking laughter from his master made him hesitate as he widened his stance and angled his body to prepare for his next attack. “What the kriff?”

“You FOOL! I am SITH! Do you seriously think you can cause me to be afraid?” Bentre mocked. “ I eat scarier things for my morning meal. And I assure you I know my terrors and relish in them!”

Re-igniting his blue lightsaber Bentre gripped it with both hands and smiled at his Apprentice’s discomfort. “What’s wrong now Apprentice? Afraid? Yessss…I feel it radiating off you. It’s gives me even more strength!” Without warning Bentre thrust forward his speed augmented by the Force and his hatred.

Janos barely parried the thrust knocking the blade aside at the last second. Trying to calm his mind to help him perceive the attacks, his fear kept causing him loses concentration. “Fine Master.” He spat. “Ye want my head? Ye’ll nae get it today!” “Alright Janos me boy, he want’s a fight, give it to him!” Rage fueling him, Janos moved in close and hacked at his Master, swinging his saber downwards from right to left at his Master’s unprotected head.

The blades sparked and crackled as they collided. Shifting to the right and parrying to the left, Bentre smiled at the challenge and simply blocked the slash with his own saber knocking Janos’ blade away.
The indigo blade dipped down and dug into the mat bringing the stench of burnt foam padding into the room.

“Tisk tisk Apprentice, you’ll have to pay for that.” Bentre said with a chuckle as he brought his saber up and around.

Janos brought his own weapon in a desperate block, prompting a chuckle from his Sith master. He winced as the indigo and blue blades clashed in a flash. Before the Acolyte could muster further reaction, Bentre disengaged and took several backward steps.

"See there is this funny little thing, Janos my boy,” the Equite spoke calmly and quietly as he flourished his weapon in a tight twirl. “You have to be willing to put everything on the line if you hope t-” his sentence was cut short as his student closed the gap between him and struck out with his lightsaber. Before his master could react, the Acolyte struck out twice more in quick succession. The Sith seemed to weave his weapon left and right in a fluid manner, easily parrying the assaults and preventing them from making their mark.

“You dinnae but run ye mouth,” Janos growled as he stepped sideways. Bentre turned his body to keep his lightsaber parallel to his body as the Marauder tightened his grip upon his own weapon.

“And you, my boy, give into your passions,” Bentre jeered as he wagged his lightsaber at his student, “so maybe you need to stop focusing on my supposed shortcomings. I thought you were supposed to be a Jedi, all calmly in control and poodoo like that. What a karking crock.” The Corellian winked as the barest smile cracked a facade of deep disapproval.

Janos drew shallow breaths, his lip curling in a snarl as a trickle of sweat descended his back. His Master seemed to take to the fight with such levity. The Acolyte planted a foot, drawing a deep breath just before he lunged headlong at the smiling Shadow before him. As Bentre brought his weapon up to block the expected lightsaber strike, Janos ducked and drove a hard knee up into the Sith’s groin.

“Let tha teach you to look down on me,” the Journeyman snarled as he stepped back from the gasping Equite.

Janos stepped back a few more feet and studied his master.

The Sith brought himself to his knees grasping his crotch. “You, you,” he gasped in pain. “You miserable, cheating, spawn of a Gungan…” Bentre croaked out as he started to gain control of the pain throbbing through his body. “Tasha is going to kill you if you have caused any permanent damage.”

“Och, quit yer bellyachen, ye are acting like ya never been kicked in the nadgers b’fore.” Janos laughed. “As for ma bein a Jedi, nay ma Master, I gave the Light up a long time ago. I have seen what that path is like, blind and helpless when the poodoo starts ta fly.”

Janos stopped and cocked his head to the side. Bringing his saber up to defend as the Equite thrust forth his hand and a ball of blinding light exploded from it. Janos screamed as the brilliance shot into his eyes stunning and staggering him. “How’s THIS for a blinding light!” Bentre yelled, shielding his own eyes from the glare. “Better yet, how is this for some light!” The Sith laughed as he cast forth a bolt of lighting right into Janos’ chest.

Shrieking in agony, Janos flew backwards, losing his saber and crumpling to the mats. He rolled to put out the flames. The stench of ozone, burnt cotton and charred flesh filled the training hall. Curling into a fetal position, he channeled the Force to gain some measure of control over the pain of the burns.

“What’s wrong my boy, not feeling so cocky now are you.” The Corellian mocked and then stopped as he sensed the rage in Janos build. “Now Janos, this is just a training exercise. I’m here to teach you to channel your passion and rage, not give into it. Besides, you wouldn’t want to upset Lilith.” The Sith cautioned, seeing the red appearing in Janos’ eyes.

Grunting with effort, Janos stood up, blood seeping from the charred flesh of his chest. It stained the remnants of his tunic crimson and dripped to the mat. Concentrating, he called his saber and it flew to his hand. Grasping the hilt, he ignited the blade. “Two can play this game.” Janos whispered and threw his saber blade first at his Master.

Bentre swung his lightsaber overhead and bringing it down to intersect with his student's weapon. The lightsabers sparked at their point of union with a crack. Janos eyes widened as he called his weapon back to his hand again. As the hilt struck his palm he looked back to his master and the Acolyte saw a feral grin on the Corellian's face. His eyes widened a bit as he studied the Sith.

"What's the matter, Janos my boy? Is it hard to see your Master showing his true colors?" Bentre's tone was far colder than Stormwind could remember in his time in the Equite's instruction and his left eye had been replaced by something which glowed a deep red. Still, the Journeyman had come this far and he refused to back down now. Instead he spread his feet out slightly, holding his weapon evenly between both hands as he stared down the younger man.

“I dinnae plan ta run.” The Marauder’s tone was even and his words were determined.

The words seemed to surprise his Master for a moment. The brief flash of curiosity was replaced with the same wild smile. “Of course you wouldn’t do that. It is a shame though, really. After your little show of defiance I might have to discipline you.”

Stormwind stepped forward, closing the gap between the two of them, bringing his weapon around in a controlled sideswing. The Corellian did not jump away as he had expected, instead bringing his own weapon up in a hard block. The Equite turned his own lightsaber about, taking a seemingly half-hearted strike in retaliation.

Janos was able to sidestep the attack however and take a couple of steps backward into relative safety. It was almost as though Stahoes were moving more slowly and deliberately than normal. Shaking his head, Bentre shifted his footing, his face twitching with pain. That is when it dawned on the apprentice.

“Hurtin’ more than expected, aye?” The Acolyte smiled as he watched his mentor squirm. “Tha kick ta the grapes did sting a bit, huh?” Charging forward, the Journeyman gripped his own weapon firmly in both hands, pulling the hilt to his chest before lunging the weapon forward. In the brief moment before it made impact, Janos saw the Shadow raise a hand and try to twist away. It did little to stop the beam from piercing the metallic shell of the cybernetic prosthetic. It sparked as contact was made and the Acolyte heard Stahoes cry out.

Bentre seemed to be in shock. Where his mechanical arm had been, there was a useless, sparking piece of metal. Through what seemed like sheer luck, Janos had managed to stab through the device at just the right angle. Try as he might, Stahoes could not get the hand to form a proper fist, instead moving haltingly and irregularly.

“Maybae we should call this one a draw, Masta?” Janos dared to give a small smile as he saw the expression of consternation on the Equite’s face.

Bentre did not react immediately, his gaze going from his apprentice to his cybernetic and back again. He seemed to be considering something, then appeared to dismiss it. “Ah, yes of course,” his tone was jovial, though his expression was anything but. “You did just as well as I had expected. Just be sure next time-” the tone dropped to a flat melancholy, “next time you can expect I will be sure to kick your rear all around the place. Now give me a hand so I have a chance to sit down. We need to discuss your training regiment anyway.”

Janos looked at his Master with a bemused half-smile. Reaching out, he slipped a shoulder beneath the Sith, and prepared to help bear the weight of his Master. He had a bad feeling that this discussion and the results were going to be more a punishment than anything. It looked like the Shadow’s pride was more easily wounded than he had realized.