Session export: [Singularity 2024]: The Peanut Gallery

He literally could not hear us from here.

Twas the thought running through the short man’s head between the tall Shista-hybrid and the Zabrak-Nautolan stack. Black and orange pom poms shook in his hands for a moment, just like he was told it was important to do even if it felt silly. The Omwati ceased the cheer when he caught the two finger salute, a signal to the sky, to him. His own rose to meet, knowing it was unlikely to be seen, before taking to his seat once more. The pompoms came to rest in the lap of his cargo pants, his arm warmer gloved hands clasping together as he leaned on the seats in front of him. The skin-tight fitting black body suit and Foxen’s green dress shirt he wore over top of it unbuttoned where the last things on his mind.

This is not the pit. This is not the pit.

It was…difficult not to see the sandy arena, the beast, the weapons he designed, of Foxen carried off by medics. Of Flyndt himself watching from the stands just like now. He kept his concern to himself though, choosing to try and ensure he does the ‘cheers’.

Another cry occurs.

He picks up and shakes another pompom a mere couple times.

Twenty holographic screens played simultaneously as the Dark Brotherhood’s finest combatants engaged one another in combat. It was mock combat, but nonetheless it was a tournament to see who the dominant warrior within the Brotherhood was. Of course, warrior in the case of the ACC, could be defined in many ways. Who was the craftiest, who was the most violent, who was the least violent, who solved issues in unusual ways. It was a testament to the Combat Master and his Judges that they could judge these bouts with so many distinct and creative outcomes.

Declan Roark sat back in the Grand Master’s “only” suite and watched the unique fighting styles the Dark Brotherhood had to offer. Some Clans produced similar fighting techniques while others produced pure individual chaos. Roark was appreciative of both models. Clan Vizsla’s members would be all over the place and flamethrowers appeared in more than one match.

Leaning forward, the Grand Master pressed a series of buttons on the console before him. Bets went out on several different fighters. Roark had his eye on Halcyon, the current Grand Master, Selika Roh di Plagia, and Morgan B. Sorenn. He bet the odds that each of them would make the round of sixteen with little to no problems. Additional bets went out on Marick, Evelyn, Rajhin, and the Justicar. Roark had a hunch a few of those names would make it much further than the Sweet Sixteen.

“Droid, bring me a Tsiraki and keep them coming.”

Section Aurek-Four-Two-Zero

Zig Kaliska watched as Zuza and Evelyns match came to a close. She had been forced to make a modification to her all-tool, converting it to a fan, because she was sweating. And nothing to do with Arx’s sun beating down over the open colosseum. As a droid walked by the isle of where she was standing, leaning over a rail, the Zygerrian nearly grabbed a hold of them to get their attention. She ordered a water canteen, since they had taken hers at the entrance. What a scam. But she supposed the Brotherhood had to make their money back on the expenses for this event somehow.

On the vidscreen, her girlfriends clothes were mostly missing. A cloistered part of her felt a bit annoyed, but it was buried behind her pride at watching the mercenary fight…against another attractive lady wherein clothing had been ceremoniously discarded…

So, once paid with a tap from her datapad, Zig took a quick sip from the canteen, then immediately poured the rest over the top of her head to cool herself off.

This of course caused her bangs to fall over the front of her eyes, made her jumpsuit all damp. Shrugging, she unzipped it down to her waist and tied the sleeves part around her hips. She now just wore a halter top. It had the Voidbreaker hammer-and-serpent emblem embroidered on the dark top with rainbow colored stitching. At the side of her seat was a sign that read "GO ZUZU" .

She then took the popcorn she’d grabbed and went to hand one to her co-spectator. The other Zygerrian was distracted with her datapad. Zig frowned.

“Oi, Zaagnika, popcorn,” she said she extended the box to her.

The Colosseum’s atmosphere was electric, the tension and excitement of a duel translated into a boisterous crowd alternately boo-hissing and cheering. Among them a silent human pushed his way to find a seat, balancing a tray with a Bantha sausage and puffed grain drizzled with butter. Jax Calderon had a weakness for fair food—even at the ridiculously inflated prices demanded by Arx’s opportunistic vendors.

Sounds of cringes and winces erupted as, on the towering holoscreen, one of the combatants stepped on a mine. Do we really need a slow-motion replay? he thought as he settled into a seat. While the pilot was no stranger to violence, he viewed it as a tool, a last resort to be employed when necessary. But his purpose here was clear: to support his boss and friend. Katrila would probably object if she knew he planned on attending, but he knew she would appreciate it more than she let on.

Roark watched Damon Nix enter the Grand Master’s suite and sit down in a chair across the room. The head of the Iron Legion appeared to be annoyed and that was never a good thing. The Mandalorian sent a drink over to the cantankerous Force User and nodded a greeting. Nix, in turn, held the drink up in a greeting of his own, before adverting his eyes to the few remaining round one ACC matches. Roark wondered who Nix planned to kill for a second, but realized it was better to not think on such things in the presence of a Sith Lord.

Roark checked his round one betting and collected his due payments. A quick tap on his personal datapad and the funds were transferred to his account. Vizsla would not directly profit from his exorbitant gambling but he definitely would. His corvette, the Dralshy’a, needed a new coat of paint….

Zag’s greed took over subconsciously, her hands let go of what they were doing and sought out snacks, causing her datapad to drop, before she caught it between her thighs. That caused a chain reaction of her trying to grab the popcorn bucket from Zig, and then almost dropping it again as she ignored the saving grace that were her legs.

Some of the popcorn spilled out, but she caught the bucket again as she finally registered that she had caught her datapad. Her emerald eyes stared at Zig helplessly.

“Can ya hold it for a sec, Zig?” Umangi’s silver voice begged for Zig to hold it, but she kind of pushed it back into her hands, pulled her datapad up and then snatched the bucket back.

“Thanks!”

“Oh kark, my datapad went on standby, now I have ta watch the ads all over again!” She continued mumbling something about a bunch of fellow gamblers on the holonet having to wait for her.

The crowd roared to life again as another battle was announced. The walls seemed to vibrate as Videk Torr made his way through the concourse to the gallery. This was something different for Videk since coming to Arx. So far most of what he had seen was street faires and farmers markets. Nothing to show that Arx was a place for a Mandalorian to make a name for himself.

From his seat he could see the latest match. A Kiffar Jedi and a Togruta who sported a crimson red blade were in the midst of the battle. It didn’t look good for the Kiffar as he had just taken a blow to his side and hand.

Signups had closed before Videk had heard of the gladiatorial matches. This would have been a great opportunity for him to make a name for himself among this Brotherhood as they called themselves. Perhaps, even a way into their ranks. He could spot several other Mandalorians in the crowd. It would have been nice to show out for them and perhaps earn a spot in their clans. He would find another way to regain his honor. For now he would enjoy the contest and perhaps earn some credits with his wagers.

Draca wasn’t a fan of the Colosseum. It was loud, far too busy, and a part of him had to wonder if the citizens of Arx understood basic hygiene. The smells sent nauseous waves coursing through his body. It made him glad that he decided to go against any snacks on this occasion.

A good thing too. The ice cream probably tasted horrendous. It would take a sun exploding to make it hot enough to to want an ice cream right now.

“WOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Then, there was Zoom. The incredibly, painfully loud Zygerrian cheered with no regard for her own dignity. Foam finger in hand, she cheered and jeered in every battle. She really gave it her all in every fight, though the screaming was starting to get a bit much.

Alas, Draca didn’t have the heart to stop her. How could he after everything she’d been through? She deserved the time to unwind.

Then, they both fell deadly silent after watching Anders’ battle with Malfrost. In the nearly thirteen years he had known Anders, not once had the Chiss yielded in a fight. He had every opportunity to win too! How ironic it was that it was his showboating that cosy him. He had warned Draca against such habits.

Then again, the rank of Grand Inquisitor was at stake. He needed to make a good impression.

“Well…” Zoom folded her arms across her chest and leaned back in her seat. “Didn’t expect that. Hope the nexu is alright.”

“Yeah,” Draca could only nod. Connecting to the Force revealed the depths of anger, malice, loathing, but most of all…

Doubt. Lots of it. It was an emotion he seldom felt from his father-figure. Kitty would be fine. She was already getting medical attention from the veterinary staff on site.

However, not all damage was physical.

Draca rose to his feet. “I’m gonna go talk to Anders. You OK here for a few minutes?”

Zoom’s eyes widened for a moment. A glimmer of fear in those slightly trembling features on her face.

“Ugh. Yeah, sure. Just… don’t be too long, OK? You never know who’s around.”

Zig sighed but offered no verbal judgement of her friend as she complied while watching Zag figure out her own unique way to reach the end result of having both popcorn and her datapad.

Her heart had sunk, initially, at the tablet dropping. That would have been the seventh one she had replaced for the other Zygerrian. Fortunately, she had added a nine-hardness polymer glass protector screen on this one, as well as a rugged edge-support case. Still, Zag would probably figure out a way to break it.

At the ad comment, Zig faught down her instincts. Of course she could disable the ads, but they had proved to be one of the few effective methods to slowing down Zag’s seeming addiction to what appeared to be harlmess, free-to-play games, but then ended up getting her into more credit debt somehow through the games “speed up” mechanics.

So, the ads were probably a good thing.

Either way, Zig took her seat and fidgeted a bit with her popcorn. “Alaisy is still pretty amazing. Almost felt bad for that bloke,” she said absently, idly watching the different matches replayed on the screens above.

At least the locals in Eos City were getting their moneys worth.

Roark made a sleight waive with his hand as Nix exited the Grand Master suite. The Lord Marshall wore his favorite annoyed scowl as he walked by the Mandalorian.

The Vizsla Grand Master scanned his Legion Eye taking in the Iron Legion’s security posture at the event. It appeared he was no longer the only Grand Master in the Arx system.

Roark entered a long string of coded data the on his vambrace. The communication system responded with a challenge. Roark quickly tapped his passcode before entering a brief message.

“GM suite awaits your arrival.”

It had been a while since Roark engaged with Lord Ashen, but he looked forward to seeing the man once again.

He moved away from the landing pad with measured strides, the lush carpeting muffling the sounds of his footsteps. He was in system already, observing several of the younger members as they tested themselves against each other. Training meant different things these days. Whatever new contraption that the Brotherhood had managed in lieu of the old Morph Hall seemed to work well enough for what they needed. The stench of the Stennes cigarras seemed to be called forth by memory as he stood there on the observation deck when the message came through. Watching training was one thing, watching them compete for primacy, for championship was another. His droid had beseeched him to go anyway, more likely because it wanted to watch the combat itself, to try to learn from it. He could not find fault with that motivation. And so he came.

Roark was known to him. Brutally effective at what he did, his skills and discretion came at a high price. One that he had paid for on several occasions, sometimes through his own coffers rather than those of the Chamber. The brief message belied something else, a subtext that his mind dissected seven times before the transport landed, and thrice before the first set of doors opened ahead of him. He was not hunting for work, no. The Mandalorian had enough offers that he got to choose what he did with his time. Still, a social call seemed all but foreign to him. His lifetime all but precluded the possibility in any but scholastic ways.

Another set of doors, another stretch of expensive carpeting, and he made his way through the private access ways to the VIP suites. The final set opened up, the view from the suite stretching out from broad transparisteel windows to see several arenas, holographic projections showing multiple angles for their pleasure. Lush furniture and decadent appointments swarmed the senses in an almost ostentatious display of vice and wealth. Pausing, Muz took a breath, then stepped through.

“My lord, your seat.” The servant droid bowed deeply, then gestured with a sweeping arm. “Might I interest you in some refreshments?”

Muz’s eyebrow raised, his mind swimming in the places between paranoia and the whispers of the Force. Nodding at the Mandalorian, then back at the droid, he raised two fingers. The bright blue liquor would be a sound start. They would eventually call for clean glasses and large ice cubes, and drams of finer vintages poured from the flask bearing the Ancient Clan’s seal, but that would come later.

For now, there was colorful fire and spilled blood for the eyes to feast upon.

Section Aurek-Four-Two-Zero

Zig frowned as she ran out of popcorn. It seemed that Zuza’s opponent never showed up for her second fight. There was a bit of a sigh of relief at the hidden anxiety the Zygerrian felt at knowing her girlfriend would be encouraged, more than usual, to be reckless in this tournament. She knew that Zuza would be okay, could handle herself. That assurance did not invalidate or erase her unease. Fidgeting, she glanced sidelong at her friend, who had returned to her datapad now that the other match they had been watching had finished.

“Hey Zag, can I see the datapad for a sec?”

Zag didn’t seem to hear her at first, but then responded like she had. “Hm? Ya, sure,” she idly handed over the datapad and went for the last handfull of popcorn.

Zig took the time to check a few settings on it. Her fingers moved like lightning through settings, eyes tracking on every sub-menu’s and setting while the rest of her face looked detached or even bored. She enabled a vpn proxy to her personal server that should help with the ads. Then, she also subtly wired some extra credits into her account to hopefully pad her gambling.

As she handed the datapad back to the gray furred Zygerrian, Zig realized that this was exactly how the two had met. Zig had been hired onto the same crew as Zag, and despite the humor of their names syngerizing, Zig had instantly looked up to Zag as the more experienced mercenary.

That mission, of course, had not ended great, mostly from Zag’s penchant for making bad deals, but the two emerged as friends and contacts, which then lead to Zag referring her to the crew of the Voidbreaker…where her life had changed forever.

“Here, I got rid of the ads. Also…I realize I never thanked you. For…pointing me here, er, well, the Voidbreaker. I wouldn’t have a fraction of what I have now otherwise. So, thanks,” she smiled.

Draca had felt the full spectrum of emotions before. Everything from the highs of love to the roaring stream of hate. He’d experienced joy and sorrow, seen pleasure and pain, yet doubt was something almost foreign to him in his father-figure. That unnerved him more than anything. Anders was always this beacon of confidence. He always seemed indomitable.

Until now.

The doors hissed open. Draca didn’t know what to expect as he entered the veterinary ward of the arena. The medical droid tended to Kitty’s wound upon the large table as Anders caressed her fur, stroking her gently upon her scalp.

“I will just get some more supplies, sir,” the droid bowed as it took its leave.

Silence dawned on the room with only the sound of the nexu’s breathing to break it.

“How bad is it?” Draca finally asked.

“Deep,” Anders didn’t look at him as he answered. “She requires surgery.”

The young Zabrak shook his head. “No, she doesn’t.”

Draca took a step forward and placed his hands over the nexu’s gaping wound. Blood seeped from the gash in her chest. The Jedi closed his eyes and poured the pure power of the Light Side through his body, out of his fingertips, and into Kitty. Slowly, but surely, the wound began to close until all that was left were blood stains.

Flyndt just remained glued to watching the lava infested arena. It…was the first time he has scene lava in person. Images of Ussun’s landscape burning, sure, but this was much more real and present. He did not make any sign that the heat bothered him, nor took any effort to undress his multiple layers. But the avian humanoid was most definitely sweating beneath that down filled vestcoat, his crimson feathers raised slightly from his scalp in attempt to cool off.

The assurance from Bril that Tahiri was his mentor and godmother, and thus this battle would not end in massive maiming, was welcome.

“Huh, bridges,” Zig mused.

The Half-Arkanian Jedi Councilor finally made his way into the Arx Colosseum, a thin smile faded from his pale lips as he turned his gaze came to one of the many screens of the arena, currently filled with bridges and an all too familiar Jedi. Wearing armor of an ancient Sith with Mandalorian Kom'rk, dragging a Rancor into the arena, and matched up against none other than Dacien, was Creon Neverse. As he walked he leaned on what was, for all appearances, an overly intricate cane and sighed as he found himself a seat and leveled his eyes on the Brotherhood’s Grandmaster moments before the Arena burst into action.

A short-lived flurry, which ended with the Grandmaster clutching the wayward young Jedi in the air, suspended in The Force.

“Brave fool.” He whispered as his eyes trailed the Grandmaster a moment, waiting for his next move. “I’d hoped for entertainment, certainly got what I bargained for.”

The sight before Videk in the arena was certainly a strange one. A small lithe red skinned Togruta stood on one end of the bridge. On the other a massively tall Feeorin in Mandalorian armor he had never seen before. He looked to be over 2 feet taller than his opponent.

He reached for his data pad and queued up the odds for the match. It was a push, neither had a betting advantage. He pressed the button and put his money on the Sith. two hundred and twenty five credits wouldn’t be a bad loss and something he had learned a long time ago was to never bet against the smaller person.

A dark haired woman sat down beside the newest High Councilor of Odan-Urr, her carefully manicured hands placed gently in her lap.

Golden eyes watched along with Masahiro’s, a passive expression on his fellow hybrid’s face.

“I was told that this was a good place to find entertainment. I didn’t know I would also find you here, Master Jedi.” Sonyo turned her attention to the Echani-Arkanian, a soft smile on her face.

“It’s been a while since we last talked. You’ve gotten quite the promotion it seems.”

The half-Arkanian quirked a brow as the Pantoran-Arkanian woman took a seat beside him and began to speak. Always his position. He smiled as he turned to face her and tapped his cane gently on the ground between them.

“Yes, though, not out of a desire for it, mostly from necessity.” Masahiro commented as his vision turned back to the match and Creon’s desperate struggle against the Grandmaster of the Brotherhood.

Ultimately, Creon failed as Dacien tore through his defenses and impaled him, before throwing him down into the misty cavern below the bridges. The High Councilor of Urr’s eyes locked with Dacien’s for a moment, before he trailed Creon through the darkness.

“The fool’s still alive. Hardy little schutta.”

Evelyn felt her chest tightened and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Yet, as usual, the pilot doesn’t show it as she walked down the halls.

This had to be wrong. Evelyn’s jaw muscles were as tense as she was. Not long after, she found herself into an empty room and closed the door behind her. She nervously exhaled and looked around in the room.

Evelyn felt overwhelmed and anxious. She had went up against friends in this tournament and somehow, she ended up being part of the bracket.

Despite going through three rounds, Evelyn felt unprepared in every way.

She made her way over to the empty chair abs sat down as she buried her face into her hands. The door slid open, caused her to jolt upright but was glad to see Thirteen.

“Hello Thir-“ she was interrupted by a slew of angry binary words as Thireteen rolled up and down in the room, about how it was a chew toy for a big red dog, a chariot for a droid, and a yarn ball for a nexu. Thirteen vowed that it would not be a play thing in its next round.

Evelyn simply waited for Thirteen to finish its rant, the corner of her lips curved into a slight smile. Perhaps she should not inform her little droid friend that it won’t be coming along with her for the rest of the way just yet until it had everything out of their circuit system.

“Who knew a droid could be so articulate?”

The door qas open, so Anders invited himself inside. He was, after all, her husband. It was natural that he would care for her well-being.

He swallowed the pits of envy, jealous, and covered the wound of his damaged pride with a smile on his face. Apparently, two rounds were all Lord Adenn needed to evaluate his skills. It put a damper on his immediate plans.

He was not a Grand Inquisitor. Not yet. At this rate, he may never be.

“I just wished to congratulate you on your performances during the preliminary rounds.”

Thirteen let out a surprised beep at Anders’s sudden appearance and quickly zoomed behind him, it’s head spinning on pivot to look up and down at the hallway. The BB-Unit was obviously looking for BUDD-E. When it didn’t see its droid friend, it let out an annoyed beep and went off to sulk in a corner.

Evelyn didn’t pay her droid any attention. Thirteen will be fine and she would be sure to give it the oil bath it deserved tonight. Instead, her eyes were on Anders. She had mixed feelings about all of this and she did not know how he really felt behind that charming smile. She was surprised she had made it this far, despite logically knowing that being trained by a Sith growing up had possibly played a hand in this. The pilot shoved down her anxiety as she stood up from the chair.

“Thank you. Anders, are you alright?”

No.

If he were perfectly honest with himself, and he always was, he was most definitely not alright. He’d been judged insufficient after only two battles. There were plans in place that depended on him putting in his best performance. The enemies he’d dispatched during the purge had not been as strong.

Was the Brotherhood getting stronger whilst he remained the same? That was unacceptable. How had this happened? Why? The biggest differences in his life…

What kind of Sith had a Jedi as a Protégé? What kind of Sith had a wife? One that he was willing to go to extreme lengths to protect? The ancient Sith would be rolling in their graves. His old Master would be cackling with glee at his internal turmoil. The darkness festered within him like a candlelight in a hurricane, swirling up in the storm of his emotions.

Yet, he still wanted… no… needed to protect her. He was not weak. He was not insignificant.

“Yes, I am fine. Draca has not located anything unusual thus far. As I said on Elysia, I doubt our common adversary will try something whilst you are here being watched, but one can never be too careful atound a Grand Inquisitor.”

For a long while, Evelyn said nothing. Deep down inside, she knew that he just lied to her about being fine but that was not a conversation to be had here. The room filled with silence and small hums from various machines and equipments that resided. She shook her head as she walked past him and pushed the keypad to close the door behind them and gave them some privacy.

“I am not worried about him. Yes, I froze but it will not happen again. Anders, please let go of him. His time will come, we should not be seeking for it.”

Evelyn’s hand rose and rested gently against his cheek, “Csah vatvo k'eb can ch'ah.”

It was an odd experience. There were times where Anders wondered if he would ever forget his native to guess, given how little he actually used it in conversation.

“Ch'ah csah k'eb can vah. Hah carcir sei around vah ch'ah k'ir nah vun'kebah.”

Anders could not let go. Would not let go. He reminded him too much of Lenora. The only release they would have is when he was dead. He had already caught Evelyn off-guard in her hotel room. Who knew when the next time would be?

Evelyn’s hand slid down from his cheek to the chain that attached the cloak. Anders had a point. How many times have they both been hurt by someone in the past? However, he was also being stubborn.

Not that she was the one to talk.

“Anders. I just wish for you to not provoke him now.” She didn’t want to spend the rest of the tournament worrying about Anders and Draca.

“And he is my demon to defeat.”

At what point did Anders think he could help when he could not even put in a good showing in the preliminary rounds?

There was a part of him, deep down, that wanted to believe her. So desperately. She had made it to the brackets when he had not. Yet, this was a Dark Lord of the Sith they were talking about. That title was not handed out trivially.

“I will not. I am merely being cautious. One can never be too certain,” he went and grabbed a hold of her hand with his own. “When the time comes to defeat your demon, you may use me as your weapon should you require my assistance.”

Truth be told. He wanted Dol dead. The dark side demanded justice. It demanded that man’s head.

He was more than happy to deliver it upon a platter.

A soft knock echoed in the silence between Anders’ and Evelyn’s words. There was a slight pause before the door opened with a soft click-hiss and a head popped in through the door.

Sivall’s cowl and mask were still loose around her neck. Her hair was still loose, free from its coifed bun in grimy and sweaty waves that cascaded over her features.

“Evie can I- oh.”

The Chiss woman halted, sanguine eyes widening, as her gaze fell on Anders who was now looking in her direction. Her attention slid to Evelyn’s hand on the clasp that held his cloak, then their closeness. She took a breath as if to speak only for her mouth to shut as soon as it opened.

She still wasn’t used to the idea that her mentor was capable of that kind of softness— that Anders could love in a passionate capacity. He had always seemed so stoic and closed off.

It was quietly satisfying that the Inquisitor had a heart, just like the rest of them, just like her?

“I’m… interrupting something, aren’t I?”

<@216702440140046336>

Sith eyes narrowed harshly onto the young woman who was his Inquisitorius prospect. Anders did not release Evelyn from his grasp. There was no point.

“Indeed. You do realise that it is customary to wait for an answer before opening the door. Only commiting to a slight pause is unacceptable.”

His tone was deep and dark, laced with a coldness that, well, Sivall had pretty much come to expect from him.

Whereas Siv would have shrunk away from Anders’ glare before, the young woman simply frowned softly. She had indeed become used to the man’s severity and intensity.

The illusion was a bit broken now, though, that she knew he possessed the ability to be less so. The medic sighed softly, deciding to fully pull herself into the room now that she had ruined their moment.

“I apologize. I’m not used to this whole… you having a heart thing. I’m glad it was Evie of all people that pulled it from the cold depths of your chest, she’s amazing, but it’s still new and unfamiliar ground.” Siv’s tone was flat, exhausted.

She crossed her arms over the soot and dust-covered chest plate of the Inquisitorius armor. No BD droid followed in her wake— Ellie was sitting in Siv’s ship till she could bring her to Alex to revive.

<@216702440140046336> <@837236610684813342>

Vreva made her way through the crowd, her arms laden with various foodstuffs and drinks. The plates were stacked so high that navigation became difficult, though the crowd around her parted rather than risking a spill. Somehow the red Zabrak found her seat behind Flyndt, and she began to offload some plates and a drink into the avian’s lap.

“Probably should have asked what you wanted before getting into line, but that line was so long, I just got a bit of everything. Might have lost something, though…” She counted the plates twice with a furrowed brow, shrugged, then grabbed a skewered stick of meat from one of the plates in Flyndt’s lap. “I dunno, have at.”

Vreva tore into the meat, chewing loudly. “Has Luka been knocked out yet?” she asked through her mouthful. <@244244400488710155>

While Siv had next to no reaction to Anders’ scathing tone, Evelyn’s outburst caused the pale-blue woman to visibly flinch as if she had been hit.

Sivall closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to look slightly less like a puppy that had just been kicked. She was sure Anders was making some kind of mental commentary on how weak it made her seem, how she should have better control over her reactions, so on and so on and so on… She was much too tired to care at the current moment.

The Quaestrix of House Galeres stooped low for a moment to pat Thirteen’s head softly. A sad smile spread across her lips.

“I’m sorry my little mechanical friend. Ellie was damaged during one of my fights— she’s currently on standby mode in my ship. You’ll see her again soon once I take her to be repaired. She’d be here if she could be.”

With that she stood despite her legs protesting against the strain and looked at the couple standing across from her. Her lips were drawn into a careful, thin line now as she attempted to exert whatever little control was left in terms of her facial features. Her eyes still retained that weary look— tinted now with a smidge of sadness.

“I wanted to come check up on you. This isn’t my first time in a Tournament— I remember how nervous I was when I first competed. No one was there for me. I didn’t want you to be alone, and I was disqualified so I didn’t have to worry about returning late to the arena. No one should be alone after fighting like this.”

Her eyes drifted to Anders for a moment before returning to her white-haired friend.

“I wasn’t expecting your husband to be here, I had assumed he would be talking with Draca, dealing with some sort of business, or something similar. I severely apologize for interrupting. I’ll see myself out now, I guess.”

<@837236610684813342>

The Omwati had stiffened, caught unaware of the Zabrak’s return and even more so unexpected of the intrusion into his space. He blinked and stared down at the plates now in his lap, his hand instinctively curling around the drink shoved into it. His gaze flicked over to watch the tattooed red hand grab a skewer and retreat back behind him. After a moment to recover from the snap back away from the ring and his thoughts, Flyndt picked up one of the plates and started passing it down towards Jax, Minnie, Aibyss and Bril. In truth, he was not hungry much, either because of nerves or perhaps the fact that he had finished off both bags of trail mix Bril had passed his way before he realized it. He did, however, take a single skewer for himself.

It was as he picked at it that he regarded Vreva’s question. “Luka? Uh…which one were they?…oh the one with nexu? Yes, Evelyn bested them.”

Anders noted the flinch. Familiarity created defense mechanisms in the mind in order to survive familiar surroundings. She had developed such protections against him, but against others? That would have to be corrected, especially if she aimed to be an Inquisitor. It was simply insufficient.

Then again, was he qualified to train her anymore? As far as Anders was aware, she was part of what he called the Ruka Gang. No doubt she was being coddled by the former Arcona Proconsul. Yet, after his abysmal performance in the tournament, he doubted that he was any better.

He made the mental note to discuss this with her another time. For now, his search for Dol continued. He needed time to think. A new strategy to destroy Darth Dol.

“I do indeed have other business to attend to. I shall leave you both for the moment. Young Sivall, we shall have a discussion later.”

He did not make eye contact with either woman as he left the room and vanished out of sight.

Thirteen beeped once in concern when Sivall had informed it that Ellie was damaged doing one of the fights. Not too long after, it squealed in delight, spun around in place, and nudged Evelyn’s leg in excitement at the news that it’ll see Ellie again once Ellie was all fixed up.

Evelyn ignored Thirteen’s nudge on her leg. She felt bad for the snap, it was unnecessary and unneeded.

Dr. Tyllire was right. Evelyn didn’t have a chance to talk to Sivall before Anders made his leave. Emerald orbs watch the door slid close behind him as she said nothing for a while.

“I do apologize, Sivall. It means a lot. I… Honestly, I did not expect Anders as well.” Evelyn explained. She felt a bit concerned for Sivall with Anders wanting to discuss something with her later. However, Sivall was an adult and she had been blossoming since taking up the Envoy Corps and taking over House Galeres.

“It is odd. I felt so defeated for years after Aketa had passed away, that I failed her as a wife. And I am experiencing the same emotions as his wife, right now.” Evelyn took in a deep breath and exhaled as she started to shove the emotions away. She cannot be emotional in front of others or even when she was about to go into a tournament.

“Zhellday night?” Evelyn interjected with a soft smile, “My house. Wine and hot tub with-” An announcement has went over the speakers as Evelyn did a single nod. She glanced down at Thirteen.

“You do not come this time.”

Thirteen let out a relieved beep and then followed by a harsh beep that almost sounded like ‘what!?’ Evelyn made her way to the door and spoke before she left.

“I will message you for us to set up a day. Do take care, Sivall. And…” Evelyn felt awkward for what she was about to say, “Find someone to be with at the moment, please.”

<@264959101384130560>

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Zig yawned, then drawled to no one in particular. “Did you see that ludacris display last match?”

TuQ entered the collesium, collasium, coliseum (gods he hated that word) and into the viewing area overlooking the arena. Finally done recovering from his own matches and having spent enough time hiding to heal his wounded pride, TuQ was ready to join the rest of the spectators. A distant explosion rang out as two combatants faced off in Idris’ latest maniacal design intended to both test and torture the participants.

TuQ wasn’t sure who was currently competing but based on the mix of cheers and groans that erupted from the audience, it’s seemed to be an entertaining match. The Plagueian adjusted his hat and found an empty spot at the railing above the uppermost seats in the arena to lean against and take in the sight.

A very pristine, snow white Kesurrian was sat in a corner. He wore a bright white button-down with a black gilded corset vest and dark navy slacks. He was chewing on what seemed to be a toothpick, ruffling through small slips of paper held in his hands.

He took another one of the slips from a shady looking Arkanian, along with a small bag, and flashed the man with a brilliant smile.

“Ah, you’re betting on The Gray Fang? Nice, nice. Money well spent there,” Severin announced, taking the toothpick from between his perfect teeth to point it at the Arkanian. “Some might say I’m biased because I’ve been kickin’ it with Arcona, but the man has skills and style. As a fellow fighter, I can tell.”

The small bag, likely full of credits, was placed in a lockbox of other forms of payment including two shiny ingots of beskar, then quickly closed and locked.

“Tell your friends. These Semifinals will be interesting.”

From a private box afforded to him as the Voice’s Magistrate, Reiden had watched the fights of the tournament with great interest. He was never one to pass up a chance to see how others fought. After all, that was how he had learned the basics back on Corellia - looking through a side window of a kickboxing class and then trying to copy what he had seen. Little by little, he was able to grasp the different movements and concepts. Eventually, and after earning some credits, he had been able to take some classes where he learned to refine his technique and advance further - much more than if he had simply kept watching classes and not joining in.

But what he had seen here was entirely different. A wide range of skills and powers were on display as each member vied to test their mettle and see who would emerge as the victor, and then the champion. And to top it all off, the arena changed with each round! Now that was truly a marvel, and he had to give due credit to those that had come up with the idea and those that managed to execute on the vision. It had been a while since he had taken the time to spectate such an event, and the last time he had, it was an underground fight. This display, however, blew that out of the water merely by the caliber of the combatants, their abilities, and the nature of the arena’s changing.

He signaled for his droid to come forward. Ever dutiful, Blitz, his faithful Ascendant drone, glided over to his side. “Yes, master?”

“Download all fight details and video recordings from the terminal here. My access codes should probably work, but I know you’ll be able to find a way around it if they don’t. I want to be able to review things at another time. Studying different fighting styles could prove useful, and their reactions to the changing arena as well.“

“Understood,“ the droid replied as it bobbed up and down in the approximation of a nod before hovering to the computer terminal. A thin data link extended from its chassis and plugged into a port in the terminal, quickly getting to work.

Reiden turned his gaze back to the arena. The configuration in use now was of particular interest to him. The combatants were sure to think carefully about their moves within the confines of the space available, but the shifting elements, simulated as they may be, added a complex challenge to the situation. They not only had to battle each other, but the environment as well. Then again, it also provided for some perhaps more unorthodox methods of fighting if one were to use the elements against their opponent. It gave him ideas that he couldn’t wait to test out in his own battles if the opportunity ever presented itself. He was no stranger to hurling rocks and the like at adversaries, but what was displayed here was somewhat different. A smile spread across his face as he leaned forward, eyes glued to the arena below.

Ro-Tahn couldn’t believe the turn out for this event, and then the fact that his big sister had signed up for such a thing was both worry and interesting. He would have been more worried about his sister if he’d hadn’t how resilient she was. Looking around at throng of people he recognized a few the people just a few seats away, Bril and Minow, along with a few others whom he didn’t recognize. He gave a friendly wave, before watching the fights start. The first fight had been a bit rough, however he wasn’t surprised she had won. With Zuska there and her own abilities to fight, he had little doubt.

The second was made much more difficult due to the terrain, and the fact it seemed that she knew the person she was fighting with. That was an interesting match especially since her opponent seemed almost twice her size. The heat was intense here in the stands, but it had to be worse down below, glad he had worn lighter garments today. The heat rose ever so slightly, as he fought the urge to punch every single person who was booing the two of them. Watching as the two fought and then what looked like his sister healing her friend.

Some people are just too into the fighting aspect to care what actually happens to people, gritting his teeth. He did stand up, brows furrowed slightly in anger as he watched the wound her opponents gauntlet inflicted. A bit of anger spread through him as he almost booed, but then relaxed as he watched both of them walk out of the arena together. Shaking his head he mused to himself, “Must have been an agreement of their’s.”

The third match was… interesting to say the least. The configuration of the entire arena with all the bridges was a mind puzzle to try and follow the combatants movements, even loosing track his sister several times. The last confrontation of the match had him at the edge of his seat, wondering if Tahiri would in fact be able to defeat this Mando. That last move she pulled was so smooth and precise,that it was replayed three times as she exited the arena, carrying Zuska.

Upon the finish of the three preliminary rounds of the tournament, Ro was both relieved and slightly disappointed that Tahiri wasn’t moving forward into the next phase of the tournament. He waited for her to join him in the stands. He had sent messages after every match to make sure she was okay, to which she sent a simple yes. This time her message was different.

🐲 Getting food, you want anything specific? They have meat skewers. 🕶️ Meat skewers sound great. If they those meat sticks wrapped in breading, could you also get me one of those? Pleeeeaasseeee sis? 🐲 I’ll get you one if they have them. Be with you soon. The line is long so might be a bit. 🕶️ Thanks sis, you’re the best. Take your time.

After a little bit, Tahiri was finally able to join her brother in the stands, bearing food and drink. Together they watched the rest of the matches. Although, inbetween a couple matches she went over to talk with Minnie and Bril. Seeing Flyndt a few seats away, she smiled and waved, calling to him that she’d be rooting for Foxen.

The Elder continued to watch till Foxens’ last match. After seeing him collapse into Flyndt’s lap, she waited till he looked up before waving and smiling to him. Pointing to her datapad, she sent him a quick message,

You did great out there Foxen. If you need any extra healing or anything else before leaving, let me know.

<@244244163002892288> <@244244400488710155>