[Combat Training Center](Asset Not Found)

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.

[Combat Training Center](Asset Not Found)

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 mat has been stretched out to create a larger footprint than the typical shockboxing 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 rubber 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.]

The Corellian walked carefully down the stairs, drinking in the sight before him. He glanced at the signs over the weapon racks, giving a short nod. So for all the wicked nature shown by some in the Brotherhood, there were some things still held sacred. The impressive array of weaponry upon the racks caught his eye. As he came to the bottom of the stairs, he noted the training dummies, the sparring mats, and a large doorway leading off to somewhere else.

The doorway was the last thing on his mind. He had seen a bit of what Naga Sadow’s Warhost carried, and had read a bit about the Grand Master’s Iron Legion. With measured steps, he approached a weapon rack. With a small smile, the Dark Jedi drew close enough to grasp the hilt of one of the weapons. With the greatest care, he lifted the vibrosword and shifted his grip to hold it firmly in both hands. After hefting it for a moment, he gave it a few tentative swings to get a feel for the weight.

“Nice,” he muttered to himself. The lightsabers he carried on his belt and the blaster holstered beside the longer weapon were weapons loaned to him by the Quaestor of Marka Ragnos. He hadn’t had a chance to find a weapon he felt suited him well yet. With a bit of time here, he might find what worked for him though.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the room. O’Maille turned quickly to see a bearded man descending the staircase. He gave the man a nod, but was slightly surprised the gesture was no immediately returned with more than a grunt.

“Hello there.” The Corellian raised a hand in greeting, trying to act unfazed. “So what brings you to the Centre today?”

“What brings anyone to a training area?” The Gray Jedi’s tone was firm, though not unkind.

“That makes sense, I suppose. I was just playing about a bit here. I haven’t been around the Brotherhood too long, haven’t had a chance to meet a lot of new people with everything going on. Since nobody from Naga Sadow seems to be around, I hoped you might give me a quick bout?”

The man snorted at his words. “I am from Naga Sadow.”

“Oh, sorry!” Zachary lifted his hand to his face, his eyes widening. “Still though, the offer stands, Mister-”

“Celsus. Aul Celsus of Marka Ragnos.”

“Ah, you are from that lovely Tasha’vel’s House then.” O’Maille twirled the vibrosword in a tight circle. “Well, my name’s Zachary. I seem to have found my way into Shad Darkan myself.” The dark glance from the Arcanist told the Sorcerer he had mispronounced the name of the House again. He would have to double check that again when he was finished here. “So shall we?”

Locking eyes with the Equite, Aul unclipped the lightsaber from his side and ignited the weapon. The Knight gripped the hilt in both hands, shifting his feet to give him more stability. He looked expectantly at his opponent.

“Oh-” Zachary faltered, “so we are going to use lightsabers then? Um, that sounds…” his words trailed off. Turning to place the borrowed weapon back in its place. Drawing a deep breath, he extended a hand, the slimmer lightsaber coming up to his hand. Igniting the sapphire blade with a crackle, he turned and brought the beam parallel with the floor, the hilt resting gently against his stomach for support. “Let’s go at it then.”

Without waiting for a response from the Knight, O’Maille stepped forward, striking out with his weapon. Celsus twirled his open lightsaber around, pushing the blow aside. The Sorcerer did not pause, letting the momentum carry him through before turning the blade around to take a sharp stab at the Journeyman.

Aul deflected the blade to the side, taking a step back to build some distance between him and this aggressive newcomer. Zachary pushed forwards, continuously jabbing at Aul while fluidly recovering from each block in what could’ve been mistaken as a choreographed dance.

As the two combatants moved over to the durarubber sparring area, Celsus’ heel caught on the lip of mat, sending him tumbling backwards. The young Knight shunted his momentum into a roll, coming to a kneeling stop. Zachary let out a hearty laugh.

“Fancy move! Do you come here to practice dancing a lot?” the Savant jeered, followed by another round of uncontrollable laughter.

Aul’s lifted his head, glaring at his opponent from beneath the cowl of his combat gear. He rose to his feet slowly and stood with a balanced stance, feet shoulder width apart, squarely in front of O’Maille.

“Your snideness is so predictable, Corellian. I don’t know what you did to earn the favor of Tasha, and I don’t care, but I think you need to practice what you preach when you say you’re a loyal Sadowan,” Aul shot back.

“I would die for Naga Sadow,” O’Maille replied coldly, with a slight wobble and a look of depression flashing briefly across his face.

“I’ve heard that lip service before. As far as I’m concerned you’re still a stranger, and I’m going to treat you that way,” Aul grunted as he pulled ambient energies from the room into his frame and shuffled forward with an overhead strike. Zachary braced himself with a step backwards, bringing his blade up to meet Aul’s with an electric crackle. O’Maille let out another laugh, his face only a few centimeters from Celsus’.

The Knight’s face scrunched in disgust.

“Drunk… at this hour, and in the training center? What’s wrong with you?”

“More… hic… like what’s right with me. Corellian rum, that’s what. You should try it sometime… hic... might help you grow a real beard,” giggled the Savant.

Aul let out a groan of disapproval and pulled his elbow down in a swift knock across Zachary’s face. The Corellian stumbled away, but maintained his balance. He jogged off the hit in a small circle returning to face Aul while rubbing the side of his face.

“Not usually how I try to get sober,” O’Maille said slowly, smacking his tongue in his mouth to see if he could taste any blood. The Dark Jedi turned sideways and extended his right arm parallel to the ground, pointing his sapphire blade at Aul. “Well, not that I usually try at all.”

Zachary balled his left hand into a fist, gathering the Force into his palm. Aul felt a subconscious need to brace himself, and quickly concentrated on holding a barrier between him him and the Dark Jedi. With a snap, O’Maille thrust his hand across his chest, in line with his saber, opening his fist into a spread, empty palm. The telekinetic attack spanned the distance between the two warriors in a split second, impacting heavily on Aul’s barrier. Celsus’ barrier compressed until it could hold no more, then sharply disintegrated. The remaining power of the strike hit solidly against the Knight’s chest, knocking the wind out of him and sending him tumbling onto his back on the durarubber mat. Thud.

“See? Now that would sober me up right away.”