A Breath of Danger {kreyopresny}

[Rugs]

There were few places in the Sith Temple that Nieraan enjoyed more than the sparring areas. They were the only place he could truly let himself go to any degree. Outside in one of the courtyards, or inside in one of the many sparring rooms--it didn't matter. It was the fight he loved.

The best times were when he happened to find a decent opponent, one that actually made him work to find a victory in the ring's confines. That didn't always happen, though. Many of the Sith that had come to the Temple were younger, or not fully trained. To make things worse, many of his fellow Initiates were incredibly stupid, or fought poorly enough to pass as such in the Firrerreo's mind. Sure, he could find someone on or even above his level with a little effort, but sometimes, it just wasn't the case.

Now was one of those times.

Really, he should have felt bad, as he lazily sidestepped the orange blade zipping through the air for his arm. Or when he made is foe pay dearly for his flubbed attack--one that went far wider than it should have--with a hard knee to the stomach that left him doubled over and gasping for breath.

But he didn't.

Well, he almost drove his knee into youth's face. He opted not to at the last moment, though. This time. The boy's nose was already bloody enough.

Instead, the verdant green blade swiped smoothly along at the exposed flesh on the nape of the neck, stopping just a few inches short of what would have been a decapitating blow. Or would have, if his saber had been set to full strength.

"You're dead," he said matter-of-factly. "Again." After a few moments of silence, he drew his blade away from the other Initiate's neck and took a few smooth steps back.

They were outside, in a small courtyard behind the Temple that was dedicated to training. A handful of other students had gathered to watch the fight. Others were scattered about going through spars of their own.

Some light sweat gave a bit of a sheen to Nieraan's silver skin and made some of his blue-and-black hair stick to his forehead. He'd laid his jacket on the low wall that ran around the courtyard, leaving him in the shirt he wore underneath. It was a faded grey, and fit well over his muscular torso; it was a little darkened by sweat in a few places as well.

Of course, most of the sweat came from the day's relentless heat; the fighting itself hadn't been all that much of a challenge. Nieraan hadn't even drawn a second blade, and the green one he wielded wasn't one of his own--it was one he'd taken from the body of a Jedi he'd killed. The Initiate he was fighting might not have known it, but he was being insulted; he wasn't worth one of Nieraan's sabers.

After a few moments spent catching his breath, the other Initiate looked up. His name was Alden, if Nieraan remembered correctly. He was a few years younger, maybe twenty three or twenty four, but he, like so many other Initiates, had started his training late. Against someone like Nieraan, it showed. He really would have been a better match for someone like Cadyren, Nieraan's student.

Alden stood up straight, albeit with a hand held over his stomach. He was about an inch shorter than Nieraan, with a mop of unruly chestnut hair and unremarkable brown hair. He was built decently enough and fairly athletic, though Nieraan's relentlessness was taking its toll and wear him down. If

"I want to go again," he muttered around his panted breaths. "I can do better than that."

Two of the watching Initiates looked at each other and shook their heads.

Nieraan snorted and smirked. "You've been saying that all afternoon, Alden." His lightsaber whirred loudly as he twirled it quickly in his hands. If nothing else, he could respect Alden's resolve. But still, he was starting to grow bored of beating up half-trained nitwit. Might go out to the caves once I'm done with him. Need something different.

"But if you really want to come at me again, far be it from me to stop you," he went on as he raised his blade again. Yeah, he was tired of stomping on Alden. So it was time to put an end to it. Unfortunately for Alden, it meant Nieraan was about to go harder on him than he had been so far.

"So come on, let's get it over with."

[kreyopresny]

Terest sat near the courtyard, perched atop a column belonging to the ruins of one of the old ruined buildings that lay scattered all about the valley where the temple stood, Korriban having been abandoned and repopulated so many times in it's checkered history as home world of the Sith. She always enjoyed prowling about rooftops, preferring to avoid people and watch things from a distance. Down below, Nieraan was schooling some weakling Initiate, repeatedly beating him to a pulp. Honestly, she didn't know why he bothered with weaklings like that. Seemed like a waste of his time and abilities, surely he didn't gain anything from it. She knew he didn't simply do it because he liked hurting people, she'd seen him change the path of his knee away from his face, and in fact could've killed him many times over. Perhaps he considered it teaching, training the weaklings what real combat was. Or, a reason she understood, he just enjoyed fighting, and would take any opponent he good get.

Whatever his reasons, she looked on eagerly, studying his technique, hoping to gain some insight into his fighting style. He was currently her target, the next benchmark she must surpass in her quest for power. Still she couldn't help but admire his strength, the precise movements of his muscled form filling her with unfamiliar feelings. She squirmed uncomfortably as she shoved these feelings aside, turning her attention back to the courtyard. Amazingly, the hapless weakling faced off against him again. Perhaps Nieraan shouldn't have been pulling his punches, it seemed the fool wouldn't learn unless he experienced some serious pain.

[Rugs]

{Gawd, went long again >.< Oughtta be back to normalish after this}

"Don't need to tell me twice, Onin," Alden muttered under his breath. The brown-haired youth lifted his saber and exhaled a steadying breath through his bloody nose. Nieraan watched him impassively, his own weapon still held casually at his side.

Alden studied Nieraan for a few tense moments, and the Firrerreo wondered what it was the boy was thinking. He already knew how Nieraan fought, or what he'd shown him, anyway. Nothing was going to change. He's lucky I want him to make the first attack, Nieraan mused, shaking his head slightly.

The boy finally did make a move. He lunged at Nieraan with Force-enhanced speed. The amethyst blade of his lightsaber came in angled low, sparking and hissing as the tip dragged along the rough, dusty stones that covered the courtyard floor. Nieraan shifted his weight slightly, but didn't move much--his lightsaber was still calmly at his side as if he didn't care about the Initiate rushing at him with full intent to strike. The outer calm, however, belied the readiness that had his muscles coiled and ready to act as the Force eased into them.

All the while, his senses constantly felt out Alden, searching for any clues the boy might give in addition to the things body language said about his intent. Both had proven to be Alden's undoing so far over the span of their few matches, but this time, Alden's physical form betrayed him.

At the last moment, when he entered striking distance, there was something about the way he shifted his weight back that didn't seem right. To his credit, it was subtle, but Nieraan noticed, and he was already moving out of the way before the upstroke could begin to turn into the feinted cut at his far side.

Rather than finding Nieraan's flesh, Alden's saber was caught and pushed wide before the feint could fully develop. Nieraan saw his eyes go wide as he suddenly had a Firrerreo stepping into his guard and started struggling madly to regain control of his blade.

It was too late, though.

Nieraan bucked Alden hard in the face with the back of his weapon and sent the Initiate stumbling back from the blow. Alden managed to regain control enough to throw another desperate strike at Nieraan, but it was easily turned aside, and he yelped as the tip of Nieraan's blade clipped his shoulder. A light touch--painful with Nieraan's blade set to training strength, but not enough to call the match.

For a while, this stretched on. Nieraan allowed Alden to strike, and punished him again and again for his failures, either with his lightsaber of a physical blow, but he never did anything that was enough to end the match. He was mocking Alden. Brutally. He nicked the boy with the tip of his blade, slammed him with his fist, knee, the butt of his saber. Failure had a price, and Nieraan would make sure Alden paid for every mistake he made.

All things had to end, though, and after a few quick lessons, Nieraan decided the fight was over. Alden struck at him with a high horizontal slash at his neck that flowed into an arcing two-handed slash down. Nieraan ducked below the first, and sidestepped the second with the lazy sort of grace his natural quickness afforded him. Even when Alden was at his best, Nieraan was quicker than him, but the Initiate was tired now, and his movements were both telegraphed and slow. Before Alden could recover, Nieraan's elbow slammed into his nose with a loud crunch, sending a splatter of blood through the air and onto the old ston beneath their feet. Then his blade licked out quick as a viper's strike, and made contact with both of the wrists, right below his hands.

If his saber had been turned up to full strength, Alden would've suddenly found himself quite handless.

Fortunately, it was not. Even so, Alden grunted loudly from the sudden sting and his saber clattered to the floor.

Nieraan was on him, though. His hand lifted, and the Force stirred around him before it closed like a vice around Alden's neck. The youth vainly at his throat with hands he shouldn't have had, but there wasn't anything could do as Nieraan's will tightened the Force around it.

"I give! You win!" he yelled. Nieraan ignored him. The pleading grew louder, more frantic as the suffocation continued. Pain worked itself across Alden's face as he struggled more, veins bulging on his forehead and neck as Nieraan squeezed.

And then it stopped. Alden's body went limp, and Nieraan felt his presence change as he slipped into unconsciousness. With a resigned sigh, he stopped choking the boy, and held his body in the air for a moment longer before he dropped it to the ground like a rag.

"Dead," he said again.

Some of the other Initiates gathered around looked at him with surprised expressions, but he shrugged and killed his saber. "Get him to the ward." He turned around, clipping the weapon back onto his belt, and left without another word.

Or started to. As he approached his jacket, using the collar of his shirt to wipe a bit of sweat from his brow, he felt a familiar presence and glanced up in its direction. Sure enough, perched on a column a little ways away was Terest. A strange cocktail of feelings stirred in his gut when he saw her--he still wasn't entirely sure what to make of the Zabrak. Or the... crush or infatuation or whatever it was he had reason to think she felt toward him.

"Well," he called out to her, "fancy seeing you here." He stopped by the short wall where his jacket was and pulled a canteen of water he'd set beneath it. As he twisted the top open, he looked back up to Terest, sharp canines catching the light as he flashed an amused smirk at her. "Surprised you're watching instead of fighting. Guess I can't blame you with the selection out here today."

[kreyopresny]

She looked down at him, raising her voice slightly to be heard over the distance, she called out,

Nothing worth my time.

She lifted her body up by the arms, shifting her weight from a seated position to a handstand, before pushing off, flipping back upright, and dropping lightly to the ground in front of Nieraan.

Or yours for that matter.

Lacing her fingers together, she stretched her arms out in front of her, and then lifted them over her head, a series of loud pops sounding from her shoulders and spine. The pose also served to elongate and emphasize her form. With a contented sigh, she dropped her hands back to her side. Looking back to Nieraan, she continued by asking,

Why do you bother with those mudlickers anyways?

As she asked this her gaze wandered back over to the small throng of initiates milling about, sparring or practicing forms. A few showed promise, but none that she saw showed any real skill with their weapons. Not one of them had earned their scars yet. She watched as one duels ended. the "victor" had beaten his opponent, but she could see even from here, the huge hole in his defense near the left side of his head. In the life or death fights of the gladiator pits that would have landed him dead right away. You learned fast to defend your vital areas first, and let your losses come by disabling blows rather than death.

[Rugs]

"Nothing worth my time."

Nieraan chuckled to himself at Terest's answer. No, the pickings around the courtyard were slim at best. If the way she'd handled Nirisi was anything to go by, none of the fodder that was out today would be much of a match for her at all.

He drank from his canteen, glancing up at her as he did. It happened that she was picking herself up from her seated position to a handstand as he did. The display caught his eye and held it for the short while that it lasted; it was an impressive show of grace and strength. By the time she landed smoothly in front of him, he was done with his water and busying himself with setting the canteen down again.

"Or yours for that matter."

Nieraan gave a snorted laugh to that. "Most aren't, no. But I make do." Fanning himself with the collar of his shirt against the heat of the day, he turned his attention back toward her. Now she was stretching, arms held up over her head in a way that naturally drew the eye to look at her figure. The problem with that was that it worked. By this point, Nieraan still couldn't say if she was doing things to draw his attention intentionally the way she had been toward the end of their last bit of interaction, but the more she did things to emphasize her form and figure, the more he found himself stealing glances or just outright looking.

Most troubling of all, perhaps, there was a growing part of him that liked it. On its own, it might not have been so bad--it was a natural thing, after all--but he still wasn't sure that he could trust her. Or that she wasn't trying to trap him.

Come on, he silently chided himself, stop being stupid. I'll give myself away if I keep up like this.

Why do you bother with those mudlickers anyways?"

Nieraan made a point to roll his neck, popping it satisfactorily as he gave a casual shrug in answer. "Fight's a fight, even if it's one-sided." He looked at her for a moment, his yellowed eyes gazing calmly into hers for a moment before he turned his attention out to the other Initiates scattered about the courtyard. "'Sides, the fodder give me chances to work on things I need to work on. And the way I see it, I'm doing them a favor. They won't be fighting some half-trained fool that barely knows his head from his ass out on the battlefields of the war." Nieraan shrugged again, glancing at Terest from the corner of his eye. "Call me charitable, I guess."

He stepped over to where he'd left his jacket and picked it up, tossing it over his shoulder. "Anyway," he continued, turning over his shoulder to look at her again, "unless you want a fight, I'm done out here. Beating the kiddies gets boring after a while, and I have better things to do." He'd head out to one of his stomping grounds out in the wilderness and see what he could find in terms of training out there.

A thought suddenly crossed his mind, tough. It made him furrow his brows slightly as he ran a hand through his shaggy blue-black hair. He almost thought he was crazy for thinking it, but maybe there was something to it...

"Headin' outside the Temple. There are some caves and old tombs our in the Valley that are good for exploring, and good training places." He turned around, as if making to leave, but he didn't start off just yet. Instead, he looked over his shoulder again to her and made his offer. "You can come on if you want. Better than sticking around here."

[kreyopresny]

Terest took a last scanning look across the courtyard, reaching out with the Force to get a feel of the combatants. She was making a concerted effort to practice such skills in the face of her previous dismissal of them. Perhaps it was the exposure to the true power of the Sith rather than the sadistic play of the fallen padawan who had been her first "Master". Her rudimentary skill confirmed what her discerning eyes had already told her, nothing but weaklings swinging training sabers around like amateurs. She looked back to Nieraan saying,

Might as well, nothing for me to do here but humiliate some novices.

Terest enjoyed combat, there was no denying it; but for her the pleasure came in the challenge of facing an enemy and pitting her own strength against theirs. She found no pleasure in annihilating weaklings and having been the focus of plenty of abuse and humiliation as a slave, she also felt no joy in doling it out. If anything it brought out such useless emotions as sympathy, or even worse, empathy.

Terest turned to look out past the Temple grounds where they were heading, the ancient pillars dotting the Valley of the Sith Lords peaking through the dry dusty haze. Nearly subconsciously, her finger tips drifted across her lightsabers at her wrists and then to the pouches at the back of her belt, double checking her various provisions of rations and thermal detonators. Feeling the familiar bulges and weight that told her everything she needed was there, she gave a slight nod and turned back to Nieraan. Ignoring the urge to stare, and the knot in her belly she said,

Lead the way...

[Rugs]

Smart.

Nieraan nodded and leaned down to pick up his things. There wasn't much to pick up other than his jacket; most of what he'd need was already on his waist. He could travel light; he didn't plan on being out too terribly long, though sometimes there was no telling when you went out into the Valley. He'd just need to fill up on water again before they left the Temple grounds.

"Alright," he muttered, picking up his jacket, "come on." Without a word more, he started off, putting his jacket on as he walked. Most times he'd zip it up, but the sun was high and the heat of Korriban's day was at its fiercest. Even Nieraan, usually able to bear heat and cold with little concern, recognized it was too hot for that. He was almost tempted to go back to his room and exchange his coat and shirt for something sleeveless, but he'd be alright.

As he left the courtyard, he stepped inside briefly and found a fountain to refill his canteen. With that task done, he tied it to his belt and set off to head into the Valley proper.

"There's an old tomb I like to go to," he said to Terest as he lead her further away from the Temple. His feet kicked up little puffs of dust with his every step as the worked stone ground around the Temple gave way to the Valley's rough, dusty terrain.

"There's nothing in it now. No artifacts or whatever, but part of it fell in a while back. Leads into a big cave system. Usually some beasts in there." Nieraan glanced back over his shoulder to look at Terest, even though he knew she was following. He could feel her in the Force. She was there, of course, though he almost wished she was walking in front of him.

So I can look at her? Being stupid again, he silently chided, turning back to focus on what was before them. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling in his gut that he felt sometimes around her. It was troublingly hard not to think about it.

"Anyway," he muttered, using the Force to lazily call a broken piece rock to his hand, "it's not far."

Nieraan was content to spend the rest of the walk out in relative quiet. He turned the rock over in his fingers, as his mind turned over thoughts about the Sith behind him.

Eventually, they began to near the entrance to the tomb. It was nestled securely partway up the Valley's rocky side, with two massive stone doors blocking off the entrance. Cracks spanned width of them, and one was starting to crumble in on itself.

Nieraan started on the path up to the tomb, tossing his rock off to the side with a clatter and puff of dust. He could still feel her behind him, a knot of life and emotion. Eventually, he figured the subject of whatever it was that hung between them would have to come up. For now though, he was just as happy to wait as he figured she probably was. But even so, he figured he might was well try to see what he could learn about her, beyond that she had some respectable sort of prowess in combat. Knowledge was a useful thing, after all. Especially among the Sith.

"So," he grunted, glancing briefly back at her as he walked up the path, "how'd you end up here, anyway?"

[kreyopresny]

After a few quick preparations, Terest followed Nieraan up into the rocky cliffs of the valley. Her blue within blue eyes, a side effect of the spice and stims they gave gladiator slaves to keep them fighting to the end, darting in all directions, alert for any signs of danger. Nieraan seemed much more at ease, walking confidently, but then she supposed he was just as likely to sense anything long before she spotted it. As this occurred to her, she decided to follow his cue and reached out with the Force. Her attention focused on this task, trying to stretch the limits of her power, she failed to notice that they had arrived at their destination until Nieraan spoke.

So, how'd you end up here, anyway?

Jolted from her concentration she brought her attention back to him. Oh... that question. She took a moment to decide just what to say. Her thoughts briefly flicked back to that horrible day when her life as she knew it was destroyed in front of her eyes. It wasn't something she liked to think about much less discuss. In the end she decided on the short version, enough to satisfy him without giving the painful details.

I used to be a gladiator slave. I escaped and hooked up with a fallen Jedi. He decided to come here to try and join the Order. I killed him, and took his place.

She scoffed at the memory of that fool padawan who dared to called himself a Master. The weakling deserved to nothing more. She turned to the side and looked over the tomb gate, the faint echo of Dark Side power there sending a chill through her bones. Turning her head to look back at her companion, unable to resist taking in his muscled form from head to toe, she paused a moment too long relishing the memory of his sweat soaked form in the ring. Unaware of the sly grin that crept to her lips, she asked in return,

What about yourself? How'd you wind up on this dustball?

[Rugs]

"Former slave, huh?" Nieraan looked back at Terest as they rounded the final curve that lead up to the tomb's entrance. "Wouldn't have guessed that." The news of her killing whatever unfortunate sod she'd come to the Temple with was also news to him, but then again, it was entirely possible that he just hadn't been paying attention, or had been out on a mission somewhere. Who could say?

A gladiator slave explained some things about her, at least; it pointed to how she'd gained some of her prowess and combat and likely explained why she had the powerful, if still feminine, build that she did. Not that Nieraan minded it.

"Me?" Nieraan stopped, looking over the great doors that barred the tomb from Korriban's harsh exterior. It'd been a long time since he came to this particular old hole. The wind had blown sand into some of the larger cracks in the stone, and it was caked around some of the hinges. Getting in would be fun.

For a moment he pondered Terest's question. It wasn't unexpected, really, after he asked the same to her. There wasn't much to hide about his past, in truth. Even so, he preferred to keep as much as he could from the other Initiates. It was just better that way.

"Word of mouth," he started, stepping forward and putting a hand up to the door. There was a thin, grainy layer of sand over it. "Lived on Metellos for the most part. Dump of a world. Ran with gangs, during the years I was trained. When I finally broke free, I worked with some bigger criminal organizations." Hutts, sector-spanning crime syndicates, even the Exchange a time or two. Criminal groups were always eager for help from a man of his particular talents, and he'd been paid well, monetarily and otherwise.

"While I was out, I started hearing rumors about this place. Heard whispers that the true Sith had returned, not just the fat, soft aristocracy that have been trying to use the name." He shrugged and set his weight solidly against the ground. His body tensed and hardened as he pushed with his shoulder against one of the big slabs of stone, forcing it to swing slowly open with a loud, low groan from its ancient hinges.

He only opened it far enough for a person to slip through and then stopped, turning around as he dusted the sand off of his hands and shoulder. His eyes drifted up and down Terest's lean form, taking her in before he caught himself and stopped. The feeling in his gut he knew was attraction only strengthened. It was still troubling.

"So here I am." He shrugged as he dug around in one of the pouches on the back of his belt. A moment later his hand emerged, with two short glowrods in it. One was tossed to Terest with a "catch," and he twisted the other to turn it on before clipping it onto his belt. "There's a dark stretch before we get into the heart of the tomb." Of course, he didn't truly need the glowrod. The Force was many things to him, and through his honed senses, it gave him the ability to see, no matter the lighting or clarity of the air.

For a moment longer, his attention lingered on her, on her strange blue-and-blue eyes before he turned away, and to the call of the dark power emanating from deeper within the Temple. A little motion of the hand called for her to follow, and he stepped inside.

"So gladiator ring where you learned how to fight?" He muttered the question to her as he paused inside, waiting to be sure she was coming in behind him. "You controlled the fight against that other girl pretty well."