Nexare Xanze stared in shock as the tall tattooed man walked past.
The pale specter was intimidating to say the least, pale as a ghost with blood red stitches across his mouth and swiped under his eyes.
The golden eyes burned holes in him as the man looked over, and Nexare shivered involuntarily.
The Sith appeared to be approaching him, until he was called away, and Nexare relaxed.
Across the table from him, another new Acolyte raised a dark red bushy eyebrow. "You know him?"
Nexare turned back, shaking his head. "No. He just... Seemed rather familiar for a moment."
Quorven shrugged, going back to his meal.
The massive young man had been boasting of his goal of becoming a Juggernaut, and Nexare couldn't deny that the dark skinned young man was built for that specialization.
He was older by about a year, his dark red beard and hair giving him an intimidating look, especially when combined with the red tattoo encircling and slashing across his right eye.
To be completely honest, Nexare envied the other young man's physical traits, admitting that he would never have the skills or the powers to drive his enemies back with a Lightsaber.
However, his force affinity was much stronger than Quorvens, and thus had a command of Force Lightning, although it wasn't as powerful as it would become with practice.
Scooping some of the unappetizing grey sludge into his mouth, he shrugged, muttering, "I've had worse."
Quorven, a former rich kid, and graduate of Ziost's training programs, gave him a look of complete disbelief. "I mean, yeah, Ziost's food may not have been made by a professional chef, but its military rations had better flavor than this goop!"
He said, giving it a tiny jab. It subsequently wiggled oddly, something that no food should ever do. Ever.
Nexare pointed to himself, and said, "Former slave. Sorry man, but I think I've had worse."
Shrugging, Quorven choked down another bite, and then coughed, pushing his food away.
He sat there, looking rather ill, then shuddered, releasing his tense muscles.
"Come on. There apparently is going to be a match at the Training arena."
Nexare nodded, and followed his friend.
He may have had worse food, but that didn't make it taste any better.
Abandoning their meals, many of the other Acolytes had decided that they would watch as well.
Arriving at the open floor where the duels took place, Nexare started to push forwards, bumping into a large Zabrak.
The massively built man turned around, fixing them with his piercing green eyes, and stating, "Do not touch again, or I may ignore rules."
Nodding, both young Acolytes drifted away, attempting to become invisible.
"You really have a knack for drawing the wrong kind of people don't you?" Quorven asked, giving Nexare an accusing look. "We'll be dead before our first duel if you keep this up."
Nexare smirked, and said, "Aww, you scared?"
Quorven flushed, and turned away, his hand drifting back to his blade, muttering "no..."
"Don't worry. I will sit here quietly, like a perfect little Acolyte for the rest of the night." Nexare said, positioning himself on one of the benches nearby.
"Move it!" Another big guy snarled, his mechanically-enhanced voice echoing slightly as it came out of the mechanical replacement for the left side of his neck.
Nexare stood quickly, and the man sat down, revealing the wiring and metal chunks that made up the left side of his head.
Quorven gave him the look, the one that clearly states, What Did I Tell You? Nexare shot him a glare, and the Quartermaster called out, "Our reigning champion is Kenzel Lannis. Is anyone willing to fight him for the title?"
The room became quiet, silent as the grave. Both Quorven and Nexare hunched down, making sure that nothing in their posture would give Kenzel the wrong idea.
"I Will." The half-machine monstrosity that had kicked Nexare out of his seat stood, drawing his crimson blade.
The Massive Zabrak Nexare had bumped into stepped out of the ranks, turning his intimidatingly tattooed and horned head towards Korr.
Kenzel sighed rather theatrically, and stood in the center, holding his double bladed saber loosely in one hand. "Come then. Fight me. You lose, just like last six time."
Without waiting for the crowd to let him through, Korr lept up and back, launching himself off the wall behind him to spin into a powerful charge.
The Zabrak didn't back down, blocking the blade's downwards stroke with a single deflection, and spinning to stab with the other end of the blade.
Korr, off balance, barely rolled away and then stood, approaching with a purposeful stride and swinging his lightsaber in a complex pattern.
Kenzel, however was unimpressed. He stood there, looking rather bored as the Juggernaut stalked forwards.
Just as Korr came within striking range, Kenzel brushed his hand through the air, and vanished.
The Juggernaut's rapid strikes to the area where Kenzel had been were ineffective, and suddenly the Zabrak reappeared behind Korr and tapped him on the shoulder.
Korr lashed around instantly, only to find his blade knocked out of his hand as his loose and fast grip proved unequal to the task of blocking concentrated incoming electricity.
A split second later, he was on his back, with Korr's deep violet blade an inch from his neck.
"That makes Seven, K'lorr." Kenzel sneered, and stepped back, pulling Korr's lightsaber to his hand.
Levitating it with the Force, the Assassin carefully dismantled the hilt, leaving the pieces sitting in the center of the dueling arena.
"Enjoy." Korr stared in horrified disbelief at the remnants of his lightsaber.
As the shocked Juggernaut stared, another young man pushed through, and scooped up the pieces of hilt, dropping them carefully in a pouch.
"Come on." He hissed, and Korr followed the newcomer, whose long blond hair covered much of his face.
Nexare and Quorven stared in awe as Kenzel stalked back to the side of the ring, the Zabrak now taking a near mythical status in their minds.
The Zabrak seemed to sense their interest, and quickly started towards them.
Once again terrified for their lives, the two attempted to melt into the crowd, but the large Assassin laid one of his massive hands on each of their shoulders.
"I have two more volunteers." The Zabrak's deep booming voice, rather than giving them the adrenaline rush that fear was supposed to give, turned their veins to ice, and with a quick look exchanged, Nexare and Quorven prepared themselves for either death, or expulsion from the Sith Academy.
Actually, with the two of them against a single assassin, maybe they could get lucky. Sith could still be Sith with only one arm, right?
At the least, Nexare had heard that they could do amazing things with robotics these days.
Pushed into the center, Nexare and Quorven faced the massive Assassin, who was wearing a self-satisfied smirk.
Realizing that there was no way out, Nexare drew his blade, hoping the his hand wasn't shaking too obviously.
Quorven was steadier, and he launched himself forwards as Kenzel stepped in towards them.
His blows were less elegant that Korr's, but the raw power was there.
Slipping and twisting around Quorven, Kenzel rained blows on the acolyte, though they did happen to be slower than usual.
Nexare raised a hand, channeling a burst of lightning through his fingertips to arc towards Kenzel.
The Assassin dropped and rolled away, and Quorven raised the blade to block the incoming electricity, quickly deflecting it to where Kenzel was preparing to charge.
The assassin winced as the crackling purple tendrils caught his leg, before twirling his blade viciously as he ran at Nexare.
Nexare lashed out with a force push, but Kenzel knocked it aside, where it slammed into Quorven.
The Juggernaut-in-training stumbled back and fell, and then Nexare's blade swung up, attempting to block Kenzel's torrent of blows.
After four blocks, his blade flew out of his hand, and Kenzel's hand touched his chest.
A fiery pain ripped through his body, and he flew back into the wall, collapsing.
Though a haze he saw Quorven raining powerful blows on Kenzel's defense, but the Zabark Assassin blocked each blow and them blew Quorven into the wall with a force push.
His view continued to dim, and soon, he felt consciousness slipping away. The last glimpse he had was of Kenzel holding his blade at Quorven's throat.
