From the Abyss (Rugs)

[Othorious]

Doviculous sat cross-legged in the center of a massive chamber, his body bare except for a pair of tight black undershorts that clung to his body. His chest slowly rose as he breathed in and out, his mind immersing itself in the Dark Side of the Force, letting it flow through him like a torrential river. Visions flashed through his mind, most of them abstract thoughts of violence and bloodshed, but one vision in particular fueled his anger to it's extremes. It was of the day on Ambria, where Doviculous came across a Jedi Master and his Padawan, and engaged them in battle... and lost. He had the upper hand in the end, what had happened to make him lose as such? His mouth, which had been in an impassive thin line, twisted into a cruel snarl as he thought of who had snatched victory away from him. It was that Padawan, that damnable Padawan who stopped Doviculous from bringing the death blow to his Master, and allowed the Master to fling Doviculous into a black abyss that knew no light.

His pride was not the only thing wounded that day. He uncrossed his legs and rose to his full height and let his left eye flutter open, while his right eye whirred and whined as the lense opened and revealed a glowing red photoreceptor. As his cybernetic eye adjusted quickly, he lifted his right hand absent mindedly and felt the area where his right horn had been, which the Padawan on Ambria had taken from him with a side attack while his attention was on his Master's imminent death. He vowed that he would get revenge on that Padawan and his Master for the defeat they had forced this Sith Knight to feature, and he would hone his skills constantly to better himself before that chance came again. He would focus his rage into strength to fuel his saber strikes, to fuel the force he commanded into a destructive maelstrom of absolute fury. He would start now.

He turned his head to the short creature standing in the far left corner, an Ugnaught who's name was Scab and only Scab, one of the Temple's main mechanics and slave of the Sith. He nodded once to the servant and proclaimed loudly. "Setting 23, Level 30. I want an actual challenge this time, Scab." He said as he reached to a nearby bench with the force and pulled his saber to him, sadly not the same as he had before. Like his fight and his horn and eye, he had also lost his Lightsaber, which was destroyed utterly. He had to create a new one, and created one he did. This one had a longer handle and was much more sleek and redefined in contrast the barbaric and brutal design of his original. As he grabbed it he'd flip it once before activating it's crimson blade as Scab activated the training protocol, releasing 6 Combat Droids into the Chamber.

The Droids sputtered to life and began to target Doviculous, releasing lightsabers from hidden compartments on the droid's thighs. They activated them all at once and a rainbow of green, blue, yellow and orange flooded the room and two of them converged on Doviculous. All six were set to a basic Jedi Knight level, enough to give Doviculous some challenge without having it too overly difficult, he would save that for a later date. Doviculous brought his own saber up into a defensive position of Soresu, awaiting for the Droids to engage. The one on the left came in and brought the saber in a high diagonal arc aiming towards Doviculous' shoulder, while the one on the right brought it in from below in a diagonal arc mimicing the other's. Doviculous leaped above the low incoming swing and used his saber to parry the high incoming swing, and while in midair did and backflip to gain more ground against the droids.

The Droids, however, were relentless and came in again to attack Doviculous while the other four remained behind, their advanced AI slowly waiting for a chance to strike. Doviculous quickly turned on the defensive and parried a horizontal strike from the one on the left and brought his own saber right through the droid's chest chassis, bringing form flame and sparks as his saber cut throne the internal wiring and components within it. The other droid came in to try and skewer Doviculous through the back, but Doviculous used the leverage of the deactivated droid to haul himself up and over the body to escape harm, causing the droid's saber to get stuck in the body of it's comrade. Doviculous, safe on the other side would force push the body of the 'dead' droid into the other, sending them both crashing violently into the opposite wall just as two more moved in on Doviculous.

Doviculous twirled around to parry both strikes against his midsection, using the force to augment his speed and precision to deliver a heavy stab to one of the droid's head, ending it's programming as the other stepped back to regroup with the last two, forming a trio against the Devaronian. Doviculous unleashed a torrent of lightning against one, some of his was deflected by the droid's lightsaber and left scorch marks on the walls and ceilin, while most of it bypassed the saber and electrocuted the droid's circuitry and effectively disabled it. Doviculous jumped back from the smoking droid as the last two moved in with sabers drawn and ready to kill. Doviculous watched as both droids attempted to try a pincer attack on Doviculous, reminding him much of the tactic the Twi'lek and Togruta tried to use on him on Ambria, and it angered him much.

He lashed out with the force at one of the droids, latching onto it as his left hand flexed and then shut quickly. The droid's chest imploded in on itself, spraying oil and metal shrapnel everywhere and with a grunt Doviculous slammed it against the floor. The other tried to get in at Doviculous while he was preoccupied, a dangerous error in calculations for the AI. Doviculous twirled around right at the last second and deflected the attack with his saber, and unleashed a flurry of strikes of his own, knocking the saber out of the droid's hands as the next flurry reduced it to bits and pieces. Doviculous turned around slowly and surveyed his handiwork, all six droids had been defeated, destroyed by the Sith's own hand and he was satisfied. He deactivated his blade and stroke to where his tunic, pants, and boots sat and quickly dressed himself, his shirt sticking to his muscular chest and arms thanks to the sheen of sweat coating his red skin.

He nodded to Scab and departed the training room, heading into one of the antechambers that outlined the training rooms. Doviculous sat down on one of the benches arranged around the room and relaxed for a moment, his cybernetic eye whirring around to spot everything that happened in the room as his sense expanded out to see if anyone was around to bother him, and it turns out... there was...

[Rugs]

It felt like a rare, strange day when Nieraan, a Knight of reasonably high standing in the Sith Order, was actually around the Temple. Between his escapades with Jack, personal business with Danica, and whatever missions or assignments the Lords saw fit to send him on, the Firrerreo hadn't had much time lately to spend at the Temple.

Nieraan didn't mind. It wasn't that he didn't like the place, but some time away was good, and time elsewhere in the Galaxy meant time on the move, and that meant there was less chance of a surprise visit from his dear mother.

Yet, he'd returned eventually. The Temple was the closest thing he had to a home, besides the Nyoka. Besides that, he had things to see to here, in his duties as training instructor for the Order.

So over the last few days, he'd delved into that duty with a renewed vigor. His students did not like his methods, but they were effective; he could already see signs of improvement in some of them, in the ones that had the drive to push themselves to be something better. There were others that lagged behind, that stubbornly dragged their feet in some quiet rebellion against him, as if their own weakness would make him relent.

For them, well... there was word, quietly spoken and only to a few, that the Sith were preparing for a new stage in their offensive. Competent fighters would be needed, but so too would be bodies to soak up the fire of their friends in the Republic.

Now Nieraan was seated alone, in an alcove cut out up in the wall of one of the broad antechambers near a set of training facilities. He was dressed lightly, as he tended to do when working with students; today he wore a simple t-shirt that fight him well, some grey pants, and boots. The trio of lightsabers he kept on him was at his waist, as always. He'd finished instruction for a group of students some time ago, and had gone to the quiet place to be alone with his thoughts until he felt like doing something else.

Not more than a few minutes ago, he'd felt someone in one of the nearby rooms, their presence loud and a noisy in the Force. Whoever it was had been sparring, likely against droids, since rooms for live instruction were elsewhere in the Temple.

Nieraan had deigned to ignore the presence at first, but after while, he read it quietly through the Force. Not enough to intrude, but it was sufficient to get an idea of who it was--something only confirmed when the person came stalking into the chamber.

Doviculous... It'd been some time since he'd seen the big red Sith Knight. He was personally ambivalent toward the Devaronian, though word went around that Doviculous was an ally of Wroth's. Anyone dim-witted enough to befriend the Noghri didn't stand much chance of rising in Nieraan's eyes, though.

As the other Sith approached, walking to a bench rather than to Nieraan, the Firrerreo noticed that something as different. It looked like a horn had been sheared partway off, and one eye certainly looked different than the other.

Battle scars? Nieraan smirked in the shadows as Doviculous seemed to notice he wasn't alone--not that Nieraan was trying to hide his presence. That's what happens when you play with droids, he silently taunted.

"You look different, Doviculous," he called wryly from his perch. "I hope you remember to turn the lights on when you finish playing with the toys in the other rooms." Nieraan huffed a chuckle, slightly adjusting the way he was sitting. "With all the stairs in this place, I'd hate for you to fall and hurt yourself..."

[Othorious]

Doviculous would smirk as Nieraan, Firrerreo Sith Knight, openly taunted him on account of his battle scars. It was a bit childish, but what Sith is without their own need to poke and prod at the other Sith? "Well, I thank you for your concern. I assume you're speaking from personal experience? I'd never want to end up looking like how you do." He'd retort with a baritone chuckle as he turned to look up at the alcove the other Knight was stalking from like some sort of obscene bat, and a rather funny though entered his mind of Nieraan with a cartoonish bat body. The very through brought a smile to his face, but he decided not to share the thought with Nieraan.

"So, is there any other reason you're here other than to throw around banter and insults to anyone you see? Did you come to see little old me?" It was well known that Nieraan was one of the Temple's lightsaber combat instructors, although why he was here in the artificial training rooms confused Doviculous. Wouldn't he be in the live training grounds, teaching Acolytes how to hold the saber right without cutting their own arms off? Or at the least be somewhere else other than here, or maybe Doviculous was questioning too much about this, usually he wouldn't really care. Maybe it was the battle on Ambria, it's made him more cautious, that's for sure. Suppose he had a need to be more careful with other Sith, betrayal was not an uncommon theme in the Sith way, so he should be on his toes more often.

"Or are the Acolytes too difficult to handle? Maybe a bit too brutal for your tastes, eh Aurelius?" He could have just used his true name, but he wasn't feeling at all that casual with this specific Sith. None the less, he did have a certain respect for Nieraan, he was a powerful Sith, that much was true and Doviculous always respects power where it is due. Let's just hope the arrogance all Sith have doesn't get between them, he'd rather make allies in the Sith Order, not enemies. The only Sith he considers a true ally right now would be Cho Wroth, a Noghri who Doviculous met on the icy Sith world of Ziost during one of his earliest missions. They had met, traded words and blows, testing eachother, and they had both found each other worthy of respect and had departed on moderately good terms. Perhaps he could do the same with Nieraan.

[Rugs]

"Oh yes, Doviculous. You got me," Nieraan quipped, voice brimming with a lazy sarcasm. "Of all my enemies, it's the stairs that always get me. They're just too good for me to conquer."

It was lunacy, of course, to think he'd ever had any issues with stairs. Just as it was for the Devaronian to think anyone could appreciate the way he looked, but Nieraan supposed that somewhere out there, there was someone that had a thing for Sith that looked like walking caricatures. Or giant, sentient pieces of candy.

Whatever floats their boat.

Nieraan cared very little if his words insulted Doviculous, especially if the other Sith decided to try going tit-for-tat with him. He wasn't particularly looking for a fight either, but he was more than confident in his ability to handle himself should the red Knight get testy with him.

"I'm here because I choose to be," Nieraan answered, leaning back lazily against the wall. He sat with a leg folded up and a forearm propped up on his knee. He gave a quiet shrug, eyeing Doviculous through the dark. "And you are here because you choose to be. So here we are, together." The Firrerreo made a motion with his hands, bringing them together before him, and his voice turned at the end, with all the patronizing tone used by an adult explaining frustratingly simple concepts to a child.

At the last question from Doviculous, Nieraan snorted and rolled his eyes. "I can only beat children for so long before it gets boring. Don't worry your horned little head, they'll have more of me than they've ever wanted later." There was some truth to that; Nieraan had finished most of the lessons he gave out for the day, and had sought out a quiet place for himself before he'd go on to take care of his own business.

"But tell me, since you're here, Doviculous, what have you been up to?" Nieraan folded his legs proper and leaned forward with an idle interest, arms resting on his thighs. One of his sharp canines poked out through his lips as he smiled a dark little half-smile at Doviculous in the dark. "Rumor was that you'd disappeared, you'd vanished so suddenly. Yet, here you are, even if you look worse for wear."

While Nieraan didn't keep up much with Doviculous, he'd heard a few things, as he made an effort to keep an ear to the real for most things around the Temple. Supposedly, the Devaronian's combat record wasn't the best, but Nieraan didn't know for sure. Still, if Doviculous truly was dim enough to get in with Wroth, it wouldn't surprise him.

A bit of that wry contempt for the other Sith seeped into Nieraan's voice as he asked his question. "So tell me, with these new scars of yours, who beat you this time?"

[Othorious]

Doviculous nodded as Nieraan spoke and let out a hearty chuckle at the mention of his 'new scars'. "These scars, Aurelius, were given to me by a Twi'lek Jedi Master on the barren world of Ambria. A glorious battle really, I must respect the determination the Jedi displayed when fighting me, but I digress. He was scum and succumbed to his wounds." He bring his hands together slowly as he spoke, clasping his hands and interlocking his fingers as he looked back up at Nieraan. His cybernetic eye would whirl and his sight would zoom in to get a closer look at the Firrerreo above him, mapping out a grid of his features. "As for your earlier statement about how I had vanished so suddenly, I have an answer for that." He'd smile, his sharp teeth glinting in the low light of the chamber.

"After my... failure" He'd grit his teeth at the very mention of such a horrid and abomination of a word, but continued his small tale. "My superiors reassigned me to track down the Imperial turncoats who had fled Imperial space to escape the Empire's wrath. I can safely say I thought the task beneath me, but with much... persuasion..." He'd absent-mindedly rub his throat, his mind flashing back to the force wrapping around his throat after his initial refusal of this quest, which was all the convincing he needed to accept. "I accepted the task set before me and traveled across the Galaxy to track them down. From the depths of the Unknown Regions to the Mid Rim, I finally had to abandon my efforts on orders from my superiors. They then sent me to Ambria to investigate a force nexus, and in turn I ran into a Jedi Master. Fought him, survived, and here I am now. Venting my anger and pain into power." He'd bring his right arm up and clench his hand into a fist to give emphasis to the words he spoke.

"But, you probably don't care about my escapades. Onto a new matter... How goes the War? I've been absent from it for too long and I'd like an update on the bloodshed." It was true that Doviculous had not been part of the War as of late and truly wanted an update. He had heard of some of the more recent campaigns and skirmishes, but had not partook in them thanks to being assigned to hunting down traitors for the past few weeks. It both annoyed and infuriated him that his talents in combat were wasted by tracking down worthless scum. His mouth momentarily twisted in a scowl before it returned to it's neutral uncaring line.

[Rugs]

A fight with a Jedi Master. Just like the stories parents would tell their children as they went to sleep, of the noble Jedi locked in mortal combat with the crooked, evil Sith. The Jedi always won, of course, and the Galaxy would go on, safe and sound under the watch of its noble protectors.

That was the way the stories went.

But stories were for children and fools; Nieraan's life was testament enough to that.

And who won this encounter, I wonder? He pondered quietly, half-listening to Doviculous while he rambled on about some mission or something or other. The Devaronian had certainly come out worse for wear, and being the source of the extraordinary tumult and frustration that had rippled out from the training rooms only a moment ago was an interesting detail to the picture.

What did you do, Doviculous? Did you conquer? Or did you merely survive?

Not that he could fault Doviculous if the latter turned out to be the case. Nieraan knew far too well the feeling of just wanting to escape a fight with his life, of wanting to live to see another day.

"A pauper's reward," he muttered under his breath. And this age, with war looming ever larger, it wasn't enough. With Kamirille hanging like an executioner's blade above his neck, mere survival would never be enough...

"But, you probably don't care about my escapades. Onto a new matter... How goes the War? I've been absent from it for too long and I'd like an update on the bloodshed."

"Hm?" Nieraan cocked a brow at Doviculous' question and shrugged slightly. "The war goes as it will," he remarked noncommittally. "I doubt it'll be long before the Lords decide to play their game and strike again, but..." Deciding that he was tired of his elevated perch, Nieraan lifted himself up on his arms enough to unfold his legs from under him and hopped down to the ground with the nimble, feline grace that always hung around him. He shrugged again casually at Doviculous as he stood up straight again. "You'd be better bothering them with that."

For a moment, Nieraan studied his fellow Sith, not unlike a breeder inspecting a horse with a first glance. The moment came and went quickly, and the Firrerreo shrugged again, looking bored as he walked away, back turned to Doviculous.

"I want to know something, Dov," he said quietly, strolling lazily to the center of the room with no particular aims or interests beyond the quiet whisper of the Force. "What is it you seek here, hm? This place calls so many, idiots like Wroth and all. But you," he turned his head enough just to see Doviculous out of the corner of a yellow eye, "what's had you answering the call, hm?"

[Othorious]

"What's had you answering the call, hm?"

Doviculous chuckled at the question, for it would seem very simple at first thought but Doviculous knew it was far more complicated than just that. "Why I have come here, to this place full of strength, but with it's underlying bountiful subjugation. Where the lost and confused come to find purpose with their sick and twisted phenomenal powers, yet find only a delusion that they can rise to greatness and not see the futility of their efforts. All are slaves, to the Dark Side that is. Some follow blissfully, unaware of the puppeteer's strings that guide their actions. Others discover what is happening, and try to rebel against the inevitable and get crushed under foot, but some find the true reason to come here. Like I have, I have discovered my true purpose in this Universe. Why I have come to this place, why I have answered the call. To put it frankly, and in simple matters. I have come to serve."

He would let silence claim the conversation for a bit longer before continuing. "I serve, because for as long as I have known I have always served. I was taught from a young age, to be a weapon. To harness the Dark Side of the Force to crush the enemies of my masters, to be used by them for their own selfish purposes. For awhile I believed I was acting of my own accord and that firm thought allowed me to see the weaknesses of the Dark Masters who raised me, and I promptly executed them for their weakness, and sought new more stronger Masters. So I found the Sith, and the Sith have given me a new purpose, another chance to be the perfect weapon!" He would raise his hands above him, towards the high vaunted ceiling as he continued into his rant, his voice brimming with a zealotry fit for a madman of some lost and obscene religion. He closed his organic eye for a moment, gathering his thoughts so he could better explain to Nieraan the revelation of where his own existence was heading.

"I am a weapon, a tool of the Dark Side. It's all I've ever known. I have no ambitions to be anything more, except for slay all those who dare oppose the Sith and the Dark One who commands it so. Is that sufficient enough for you, Aurelius?" He would let his hands fall to his side, his one remaining eye glowering with the Dark Side as he felt it swell within him and he knew that the Force approved of his undying devotion to destroy the enemies, especially the deluded liars more commonly known as the Jedi. It was his life mission to destroy them, to free the Galaxy from its so called 'Protectors', who were really nothing more than soothsayer frauds and false prophets. The Sith will rise to ultimate galactic power, and Doviculous would play his part as servitor and weapon.

[Rugs]

For once, Nieraan listened Doviculous as he spoke, and listened intently. The question wasn't just idle chatter, and Doviculous seemed well aware of that; this had a use for Nieraan, a purpose to see the mettle of this Sith. Are you worth my time or are you just another waste like the others?

Doviculous began his answer, and Nieraan found himself frowning slightly, even turned away from the other Knight as he was. Doviculous spoke of seeing a truth, of seeing servitude the call that'd brought him here. Glory was a weapon.

Glory as a tool.

No one gives a damn about the tool that builds something, Nieraan thought as he turned to face the Devaronian. Just the hands that wield it.

Still, while Nieraan faced Doviculous, he kept his face smooth and his presence in the Force steady and even. If nothing else, the Firrerreo could respect Dov's passion; the Devaronian knew what he wanted, and nearly worked himself up into a frenzy describing it.

That was all Nieraan could truly appreciate, though. Despite a few superficial similarities, it was readily apparent from Doviculous' speech that the two of them couldn't be any more different. The Devaronian wanted to be little more than a glorified slave. Nieraan had lived that life, had grown up in it. It wasn't something he desired or admired.

"I see," he said quietly when Doviculous finished.

Perhaps it was a difference in view that separated them. Doviculous was one of countless species that lived a life that, to Nieraan, seemed trivially short. Yet he himself was only just past thirty, and he had claim to centuries of life before him by birthright. In Nieraan's eyes, the Sith were only a stop on a longer journey, a stepping stone on the path to a larger destination. Regardless of what happened to them, he would endure, and emerge better because of it. He had to.

"Yes, Doviculous, I believe that's all I need to know." The Firrerreo adjusted his stance, feet roughly shoulder-width apart and hands clasped loosely behind his back. He eyed Dov for a moment and shook his head slightly, looking a little disappointed.

"Pity."

[Othorious]

"Dis-satisfied with my answer are we? A shame, I though you'd agree with my philosophy, but alas I suppose I expected too much out of you." He'd place the back of his hand on his forehead, pulling off a mock faint as if the news of Nieraan's disapproval was the worst thing to happen to the Galaxy. He'd top the overdramatic act with a small chuckle, now having a better chance to eye Nieraan since he's down from his perch up so high on the wall.

His cybernetic eye whirred slightly as it studied Nieraan's facial features to some extent. "So, I suppose you have a better reason for coming to this place? Some grand scheme to become all powerful and all knowing, no? Perhaps to use the powers you are given here to gain a wealth of some sort for your own personal gain? Maybe even you've come because it's the last place you could go, a save haven. A sanctuary? Perhaps..."

Doviculous asked inquisitively as he rubbed his chin slightly, trying to see if he could pry Nieraan's reasoning for coming here. It was only fair, he asked Doviculous the question first, so Doviculous had all rights to give the question back in return. Plus, what was a bit of questioning between friends? Well... not really friends... But that wasn't important anyways.

"Tell me, Aurelius. Tell me the sad and somber story of you, I'm all ears. I assure you." The mocking tone in his voice was a blunt as a battered and ruined blade, and he let his smirk creep into an odd smile as he restated the question again. What could you have come here for? You question my philosophy and ways of serving this great Empire. Let me find a way to pick and prod at yours.

[Rugs]

"I don't think it was you expecting too much from anyone, Doviculous," Nieraan said quietly, wryly. He ignored the Devaronian's antics, instead deciding to settle and stand with his weight mostly over his left leg, with his arms folded over his chest.

But alas, there were worse things in life than worrying about the red Sith's opinion of him.

Doviculous continued on with a question of his own, and Nieraan smirked slightly, showing the tip of one of his pointed canines. A mischievous spark worked in his eye, and his lupine features seemed, for a fleeting moment, incredibly amused.

"Ah, yes, tell you my goals and why I came here. Right, right." He shifted again, moving his weight from one leg to the other. His sabers clinked gently against one another as his adjusted himself, and their noise echoed hollowly through the chamber's emptiness.

"It's only fair, right? I asked you the first question." Nieraan lifted his brows, his expression sincere. He'd expected Dov would ask a question of his own; it was only natural, after all, and showed an expectation of some degree of common courtesy.

"I'm afraid there's a problem with that."

That problem being that Nieraan Onin didn't abide by the rules of common courtesy when he saw no reason to.

"You see," he continued, gestruing casually with his hand as he spoke, "my reasons for coming here are my own, unless I decide otherwise. My story is only for the few people that I decide to tell it to. Unfortunately," he frowned slightly and spread his hands, "that means I can't tell you anything."

And why should he? He'd only wanted to gain a little insight into the Devaronian's ideas and ambitions. Ambitions were clues to the measure of a man. Goals were remnants of a past and keys to a future. Nieraan preferred to keep them in his own hands.

In the Sith, information was precious. Even if the Order wore a mask of cooperation.

Nieraan's smile became wry once more, and his voice sarcastically soothing.

"I hope you won't be too upset."

[Othorious]

Doviculous would laugh and chuckle, shaking his head slightly back and forth. "Oh Aurelius. You make this more difficult for the both of us. Although I find your refusal... amusing." He would place his hand on his chin and would mock-ponder that though before saying. "Most amusing. But I must wonder..." He would study Nieraan, his eyes scanning the fellow Sith up and down with some scrutiny, as if he was a slab of meat to be inspected by the butcher. "Is there something you are hiding? A dirty little secret perhaps? Something you don't want others to know..." Doviculous was cut off by a sharp whistling beep from a small datapad on his robe pocket and he quickly activated it and pretty much lost all interest in Nieraan for the moment.

He had received a new set of Mission Orders from the Lords, whom again wished the Sith-Devil to do their bidding and complete the task set before him. He flipped through the file, looking at all of the details. Apparently the Order needed the Senator of Naboo eliminated, Lou Coddleman, whom had piloted his ship too close to an Imperial Intelligence Operation near Ylesia and had escaped before he could either be killed or apprehended by Imperial Forces. Now intel has come in that the Senator is attempting to flee to Coruscant for sanctuary from any Imperial Forces. If he escapes, then he could leak some intel to the Jedi that the Sith do not want known. Doviculous reached the end of the document, and was pleased to discover he would be given his own strike force to take down the Senator.

Doviculous deactivated the datapad with a chuckle. "We may have to cut these session of sweet-talk short, 'friend'. It appears I have some slaying to attend to, nothing much. Just a politician, shouldn't be too troubling." He'd straighten his robes out with his hands as he turned away from Nieraan as he made sure he had all of his belongings. "I suppose, till we meet again? Can't say it was a pleasure." Despite himself, he let his mouth curl into a sneer and let his mind dream of mayhem and death.

[Rugs]

"Oh yes, Doviculous," Nieraan said in a too-sweet tone, once again as if playing a game with a child, "you've got me. I must confess, in my youth I used to have a favored garden and a big mean man from down the street came and trampled on it for no reason at all one day."

The Firrerreo sighed and dropped his shoulders, feigning hurt at the memory of some long ago, life-changing slight. "I was never the same, after that day."

Suddenly the facade fell away. His shoulders rose again and that quiet predatory confidence returned to his being. "So now you know." He smiled crookedly, and turned away, interest with the Devaronian waning. Just was well that it was, since it seemed their time together was drawing to a close.

"We may have to cut these session of sweet-talk short, 'friend'. It appears I have some slaying to attend to, nothing much. Just a politician, shouldn't be too troubling."

Nieraan snorted a laugh and half-glanced back over his shoulder at Doviculous. "Giving you a target that might not best you in single combat, hm?" He chuckled again and continued along, lightsabers clanking softly at his side with each step. "Well I suppose you have a trip to be getting ready for, don't you? Don't screw it up."

With that, he passed through the threshold and out of the room with Doviculous. It was a curious encounter, and like all others, a chance to gain a little bit of insight into the mind of his fellow. Perhaps some of it would be useful later. Or perhaps not. Time alone would tell.

After all, he doubted it was the last time they'd meet.