[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 Onderonian walked through the training area, watching as a red-skinned female punched, elbowed and kicked one of the sparring dummies. She had likely been at it for some time, as a faint sheen of sweat coated her skin, her dark blue hair damp from the exertion, though the Zeltron’s breathing was perfectly controlled. She was the only other person within the building, so Celevon decided to offer to be her sparring partner.

“Hey, I think you would get a better- whoa!” The Assassin deked to the side just in time as the woman spun, drawing and firing a bright bolt of energy from her DL-44 in a well-practiced movement. “Oi! The sign says ‘No maiming or killing’!”

“Then make more noise when you walk! Or at least make some kind of noise to let a girl know you’re there... don’t just suddenly speak up and expect to not be shot at,” Qyreia retorted, returning her blaster to its holster on her hip. “Did you want something?”

“... Before or after you tried to kill me?” The steely glare and twitching hand that indicating she was rethinking on whether or not to shoot him made Celevon drop his flippant attitude -- clearly, the woman was in no mood for his more cheeky side. “I was offering to be your sparring partner. You would get better exercise whilst still being able to vent your frustrations on an opponent that can fight back.”

The Sadowian tilted her head to the side as she considered the Arconan’s offer. Qyreia watched as he removed the leather vest and bracers, gloves and form-fitted shirt. “Any particular rules?”

“Our guns stay holstered. Nothing that would maim or kill either of us and no explosions, as the rules for this training center state. Everything else goes, including the weapons here on the racks that don’t fall into the category of a ranged weapon,” Celevon replied after a moment of thought, stretching with his arms over his head.

“Agreed, so long as you don’t try to land any punches with that cybernetic,” the Zeltron returned, taking in the design of the left arm that went from mid-humerus down.

“Sounds like we have an accord,” the Assassin grinned as he made his way to the sparring mats.

Following the human's lead, Qyreia walked casually to the mats, stretching her arms over her head and across her chest. I am so glad that I dressed for exercise today, she thought, happy for the unobtrusive tank top and sweat pants rather than her normal attire. "So, big guy, what's your name?"

"I thought we were going to spar."

"I'm Qyreia," she said, ignoring his deflection and returning it with a distracting smile. "Now you."

"Celevon."

"There." The Zeltron cracked her neck to one side, then the other. Ooh, that felt good. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Are you ready yet?"

"Whenever you are, nudist boy."

Nudist boy? I just took my shirt off! The adopted Mandalorian decided to make the first move, making several quick, balanced strides toward the mercenary. She instantly slipped from her stretches and into a defensive posture, though nothing of any martial art he had seen outside of cantina brawls. It seemed almost too easy to snap a kick at the Zeltron's knee, turning her defenses and exposing her back, if only slightly. Qyreia returned the strike with a swing of her fist, only to have the limb deflected and snatched away in the vice-like grip of Celevon's cybernetic arm. He followed the maneuver with a twist, drawing her face into the meat of his arm just above the elbow which sent her sprawling on the floor.

The final strike of the heel of his hand stopped millimeters from his opponent's face. "Care to yield?"

Qyreia lightly slapped the ground where her hand lay. "Ow." She peeked from behind half-lidded eyes. "You said you wouldn't use your robot arm."

"I said I wouldn't punch with it," he chuckled. Offering a hand to the defeated woman, Celevon hauled her to her feet, somewhat unsteady on arrival to the vertical position. "You alright?"

"Fine." The Zeltron shook her head to rid herself of the odd sensations in her face and scalp from the impacts. "The hell was that?"

"Bit of Shadow Step and Mando Core. Yours looked kind of like Corellian Kickboxing, minus any apparent skill."

Qyreia smiled at the friendly jab, even managing a chuckle as she pushed a lock of sweaty blue hair out of her eyes. "I took a class or two when I lived there - Corellia that is - but never stuck with it. Wasn't making enough creds to keep taking lessons anyway, and most folks will only go so far with a free trial."

"Want to try again?"

"Bring it, Nipples."

"What is it with you and my bare skin?"

Once again, Celevon made the first strike, this time making a conciliatory punch just barely wide of the mercenary's head. Something was different in her expression though: an intense stare that hadn't been present in the first round. She was watching him, waiting for the first strike before making a move, and the tactic proved fruitful. In the brief moment his arm was outstretched, Qyreia launched an uppercut into the soft flesh of the human's armpit. The joint was not appreciative of the impact, despite that, on the surface, it provided only a strong sting.

His surprise at the maneuver, coupled with the tingle that was now running the length of his natural arm, gave the Zeltron a fine window in which to introduce her other fist with his face. The impact produced a satisfying smack, carrying just enough momentum to put Celevon off of his well-balanced stance. Mwahaha! Gotcha! She tried to continue the assault with another swing from her left, only for the human to catch his balance with a snap-speed recovery, jerking his bionic arm forward to swat her fist aside.

Retaliation was swift. True to his word, the Assassin refrained from punching with his cybernetic. Instead, he launched a swift, stinging jab, followed by a kick of similar fashion in the red woman's core to put the Zeltron off her balance. To her credit, Qyreia took the hits well, absorbing the force with practiced acumen. Even the kick was less effective than planned as she lurched backward with the attack, reducing its effective power. Clever, Celevon thought, stepping lithely into her guard, but not clever enough.

His fist connected solidly on Qyreia's forehead, snapping her head back while the pain worked its way into the human's knuckles. Then he noticed the not-so-subtle pressure on his nipples.

A devious, if not malicious smile stretched across the Zeltron's lips just before she took the teats, locked between her fingers in a vice grip, and abruptly twisted them as far as her wrists would allow. Celevon yelped loudly at the unexpected sensation, trying to swat her hands away. In his panic he grabbed at her wrists, only for Qyreia to leap into the grip and launch a vicious headbutt into the curve just above his nose, eliciting tears from the sharp pain that seemed to prickle all the way into his sinuses. His eyes caught a flash of white before feeling an acute pinch on his nose.

When he opened his eyes, he could see the Zeltron - still slightly airborne in his grasp - biting the tip of his snout.

"Is this what you call sparring?"

"Dish is hao I fhight."

The innocent, honest expression on her face when she spoke those poorly-enunciated words was too much for Celevon, and he burst out into a light fit of laughter. It was contagious enough that Qyreia grinned cutely, even chuckling without losing her dental grip on the human's nostrils.

"You can let go now," he finally said as the giggles died away.

"Oh, sure thing." As the Assassin let her down, she patted his nose gingerly. "Sorry if I surprised you there. Went into survival mode for a sec."

Gently rubbing the still-tender flesh on his chest, he shook his head. "As the saying goes: it's a technique. Though I ask that we keep the rest of this affair as far away from my nips as possible."

"Hehe. Can do," she replied with a wink.

Oh Sithspit, what have I gotten myself into with this girl?

It took the Onderonian several moments to draw his eyes from the sweat-drenched red skin and dark hair, eyes having travelled down from hers to the loose top and sweatpants, then back up. Judging by the smirk she wore, Qyreia noticed and was not bothered in the least by his casual perusal. Another moment and the reason behind the smirk became clear - his hand that had not gone to rub his tender nipples had drifted from her wrist to hover just above her waist.

“Sorry,” Celevon muttered, taking a step back.

The Zeltron chuckled. “Don’t be. It happens. Shall we continue?”

In response, the Assassin took another step back as he lifted his open hands, falling into a defensive stance. The Arconan was limited in what he could do, as most of his training was centered around viciously taking down opponents and ending the threat as efficiently as possible.

The Sadowian rushed forward, jabbing quickly to either side of his abdomen. She was right where she wanted to be, as she shoved both hands against his sternum, pushing him back. Qyreia spun, right leg swinging in a high kick at his jaw, only for the Onderonian to catch her by the ankle as he shifted his own leg and slammed her to the unforgiving mat.

As she fought to regain her breath from the air being forced out of her lungs due to the impact, Celevon straddled her and put his right hand behind her head, the cybernetic grasping her chin. The Onderonian smirked down at her.

“I think I win this one. The right amount of torque, pulling my hands apart and your neck is broken.”

As soon as the Arconan removed his hands and started to stand, Qyreia brought her right leg up and over his arm, calf braced against his throat as she grabbed the back of his head, locking the hold in place by crossing her knee over her ankle. The Zeltron grinned. “No, I win. The more you struggle, the faster you lose consciousness.”

The Sadowian released him, still grinning impishly. “Blood choke... Hell’s Gate. Where did you learn that one?” Celevon coughed, briefly rubbing his throat as he tried to keep his mind off of the toned muscle he had felt when his arm was held between her thighs. “I’m pretty sure they don’t teach that on Corellia.”

“Holovids from before that kind of wrestling move was made illegal,” the Mercenary shrugged, accepting the offered hand as they both made their way to their feet. “Once more?”

“Sure thing,” Celevon grinned, tilting his head from side to side as his neck popped. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Qyreia threw a punch toward his throat in response. The Onderonian dodged to the side and captured her wrist, letting the momentum carry through as he jabbed his palm into her elbow, hyperextending her arm. The Zeltron drew back with a hiss, shaking out the numbness in her forearm.

Growling, she spun into an identical kick from before. When Celevon caught her ankle, the Sadowian hopped in place twice before spinning her body again, kicking with all of her weight behind it.

The heel of her boot struck at his temple, knocking them both to the ground. The Onderonian groaned, hand coming up to cradle his head.

“Sithspit! I’m sorry... I got carried away. I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.” The Zeltron apologized, moving to check on her sparring partner.

“No worries. It happens,” Celevon replied distantly, blinking spots out of his vision, absently rubbing his temple. There was no question that it would leave a bruise at the very least. “Good hit.”

Qyreia gave a startled laugh. “Keep that up and I’ll think you like being knocked around by a woman. I’m guessing that’s enough sparring for the night?”

“Much as I would love to continue, I should probably go make sure it won’t be a problem beyond bruising,” the Assassin said, wincing as the artificial lighting from the ceiling seemed a lot brighter than before. “Meet you another time for our next bout?”

“Sounds fun,” the Zeltron replied, watching as he stood shakily, moving toward his clothing. “You sure that you’re going to be alright?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll get checked out before I leave. Give me a call some time if you want to hang out or need a sparring partner,” Celevon gave a hint of smile as he held out a card, squinting at her. The lighting was beginning to give him a headache.

As the Arconan turned and walked away, Qyreia pocketed the card and turned to hit the showers. A glance at the chrono on the wall revealed that it was the early morning hours - enough time to make a stop at her favorite diner for a late meal before crashing at home.

"Mind if we switch things up a bit?" Qyreia asked, stretching her arms and wiping the sweat from her brow in one motion. A quick glance showed how intently the Onderonian was looking at her, partly out of martial interest, but also out of a baser instinct. My eyes are up here, she thought, thankful that she had underwear beneath the tight shirt.

"What did you have in mind?" Almost as though she had been planning it, the mercenary walked over to the weapons racks and grabbed what appeared to be a rifle. "I thought we said no guns."

"Look closer, Celevon."

Hefting the rifle for closer examination, it proved to be a softened dummy rifle, used for close-quarters training and without any of the normal shooting apparatuses. "Hm. Alright then, but only if I can pick my own weapon too."

"Be my guest," she said, motioning toward the assortment that lined the walls. "Just nothing sharp, okay?"

"What about spikes?" he joked, long since having broken his usual icy facade in the face of the amiable sparring partner.

"Pointy is the same as sharp," she responded, sticking out her tongue chidingly. "Come on. I wanna kick your choobs again."

Let's see how you handle this, then, he thought as he hefted a weighted practice sword from the motley selection. It would sting - could even break a bone if one were to swing hard enough - and had the right balance for what he was used to. "This alright?"

"Sure, if you think that'll be enough."

"You sure talk big for someone so short," Celevon said as he returned to the mat.

"What can I say? I got my sassy pants on!"

His eyes traveled to her unflattering sweatpants and grinned. "That's not what I was looking at when I came in here."

Qyreia's face turned a slightly darker shade of red. "H-hush you. Are you trying to fight or buy me a drink?"

"Maybe both," he said, lunging forward and catching the flustered Zeltron off-guard.

With barely enough time to react, the Sadowan clumsily threw up the dummy rifle to block the vertical swing from the training blade. It struck with an unexpected weight to it that seamlessly melted away as Celevon drew the sword back for a thrust that, to his surprise, his opponent deflected much more easily than the initial assault. Chocking it up to the Zeltron's mind being back in the fight, he continued the flow of attacks fluidly, making a high slash from the left followed by a low cut from the right. Every maneuver was carefully thought out. Every attack was seamlessly succeeded by another to keep the woman on the defense.

And every time, she either blocked or deflected him with the fake blaster.

The movements were not particularly graceful, as Qyreia shifted her posture as much to accommodate the weapon's weight as avoid the human's weapon. However, the Assassin couldn't argue the haphazard technique's effectiveness, no matter how much it confounded him. His arm never tired, yet as time passed, his attacks seemed to have less impact. His speed never faltered, yet the Zeltron was no longer retreating. She was advancing.

After a particularly wide deflection, she followed up with a muzzle-thump aimed for his sternum which he only narrowly avoided. He made a slash at shoulder level, only to have it bumped away and her buttstock come in a harsh swipe that connected with his ribs. That'll leave a mark, he thought as he withdrew to a safe distance, opting to observe his opponent, using the sword's superior reach to keep Qyreia at bay. Let's make this interesting. While Celevon was once again on the attack, Qyreia thought it odd that his sword seemed so defensively postured. Testing his intent with a thrust, he turned the rifle's momentum aside just as she'd expected. What she hadn't expected was the lightning-fast kick that caught the side of her knee, throwing off her balance before a second kick sent her sprawling backward, the dummy rifle falling to the ground nearby.

Not one to let the advantage slip by, Celevon leaped forward to land with his feet planted to either side of the Zeltron, sword postured for a coup-de-grace thrust. "Yield."

"You cheated. That wasn't using the weapon."

"That's combat, beautiful."

His opponent's expression twisted into a grimace just before she launched her foot from the ground to make solid contact with his undefended groin. The sword went limp in his hands at the surprise attack, allowing Qyreia to lurch to the side and, taking the barrel of her rifle in hand, swung the thing in a sickening arc like a club, connecting once more into Celevon's rib cage. In short order, the human was sent in a heap to the ground, dropping the sword out of his supine reach. Before he could react, he felt a sudden weight on him as the Zeltron threw herself on top of him to straddle his chest, one arm pinioning his throat with the other ready to hammer his face with a balled fist.

"You cheated," he croaked from beneath her weight.

"That's combat, Nipples," she said, smiling and panting for air. "I told you this is how I fight."

"Fair enough."

He eyed her for a long moment, sweat dripping from her face, before loudly patting at the mat in surrender. While not particularly heavy, feeling the weight lifted from his windpipe was a welcome reprieve. Feeling her hands on his bare chest brought a different reaction. It seemed all too natural to set his hands on her hips.

"Unless you want your dangly-bits obliterated again," Qyreia said sternly when she felt his grip start sliding down, "I suggest you reorient your hands to someplace else."

"Sorry. Got caught up in the moment." His eyes wandered again, noting an odd scent that lingered over the rubbery sterile smell of the practice mats. Lavender and... starship fuel? "So... about that drink?"

"So long as you don't get any funny ideas, I'm game." She smacked his forehead as he was about to rise. "And keep your eyes above the neckline. Deal?"

He chuckled. "We have an accord."