Prolonged Layover (Open)

[CaptainBonkers]

Andon was feeling a little self-conscious standing there, observing the training grounds outside of the Sith Temple; in his greatcoat and military cap he stood out rather spectacularly from the rest of the people around him. Uniformity didn't appear to be a thing among the Sith except when it came to the colour palette: black was in fashion all around so Andon fit in in that regard. Grenadier regiments wore black instead of the more common grey. Still, he gathered some looks from passing initiates and apprentices. A lone colonel was likely an uncommon sight around here, especially one that was outwardly completely calm while openly carrying a lightfoil on his belt.

Gazing at the bustling training grounds Andon couldn't help but to approve. The Order had certainly done an excellent job setting up shop here on Korriban. There was still much work to be done, though. Although the Sith were speeding up the training of their apprentices with mass training, the Jedi still had a advantage when it came to pure experience but with a war raging that wouldn't necessarily be so for much longer. Quantity might have had a quality of its own but actual quality still trumped quantity as far as Andon was concerned. 

He tore his eyes away from the scene before him and checked his clock. It was still pretty early. Far too early to retire for bed. However, Andon wasn't exactly sure how to use his time on Korriban. This had been an unplanned visit, courtesy of Navy administration; a three hour layover had turned into three day layover because some clerk somewhere missed a comma. Well at least he was stuck somewhere he could find something to do. Even the worst case scenario of finding the local officer's club and whiling away the hours with the local officers was tolerable, though barely. Hopefully something more interesting would come his way though. Most of the officers on Korriban of sufficient rank for Andon to socialize with were from the Navy and Andon happened to be of the opinion that apart from few significant exceptions the Imperial Navy was filled with pompous braggarts. 

[Rugs]

Nieraan sometimes wondered why he bothered.

The training yards were abuzz with activity, but his attention — save some peripheral awareness of those around him through the Force — was almost wholly focused on the two students sparring in one of the several sand-coated sparring circles that dotted the training grounds.

A human boy, Dalren, seventeen years old and a runaway Padawan who’d stumbled his way into the Sith Order, sparred against an Echani girl, Feliis, a year or two his senior who’d come to the Order after fleeing her Dark Jedi mentor.

Feliis was, yet again, having her way with the sandy-haired youth, who was falling into the same failings that often doomed him despite Nieraan’s repeated warnings to the contrary. Stay light on your feet. Keep your balance centered. Stop overextending with each thrust. Test out the girl’s defenses instead of charging in like a Kath after a piece of meat. On and on…

Yet, there he was, launching a desperate assault after the girl backed him into a corner. She took the blows calmly, tuned his blade away, knocked him off balance with a quick knee to the stomach and brought her frost-blue blade to the nape of his neck.

“Stop,” Nieraan called, rising from his crouch. Feliis was probably just better than Dalren, in all likelihood. She was quick, intelligent, and surprisingly brutal fighter when she needed to be. Dalren was generally none of these things.

But we’ve got a war to fight, he sighed to himself.

“Good work, Feliis, as always,” he said. The girl tilted her head slightly in acknowledgement. Nieraan suspected it wouldn’t be long before a master chose her. She’ll be dangerous one day. “You’re free to go.”

The Initiate nodded again and turned, clipping her lightsaber to her belt as she walked away. Nieraan turned to Dalren, who was already muttering apologies.

“Lord Aurelius, I tried to follow your ad-advice,” the boy stammered, rubbing the bruise Feliis’ knee had left on his stomach, “I-I just-“

“Save it Dalren,” Nieraan cut in. “It’s your neck that’s gonna be on the line if you screw up out there, not mine.” He motioned at the far end of the training grounds, where some training droids awaited use. “Go, work with the droids. I’ll let you know when you can leave.”

The youth nodded and hurried off with more stammered apologies. Nieraan rolled his eyes as he turned his focus to the training grounds as a whole.

Most of the students were keeping themselves busy, with a few older Sith scattered amongst them. A peculiar presence nagged at the back of Nieraan’s mind, and he turned to see a man, standing in a coat and cap near one of the entrances to the area. Who is he? Nieraan wondered. Military. No… He paused, a brow slightly raised as he felt Force’s echo within the man. More than that.

He ambled over, lightsabers click-clacking at his waist. He noticed the lightfoil hanging from the man’s waist and bit back a growl as a memory of Shatani came to mind. The man himself was well-kept. Dignified. Older than Nieraan. Someone of at least some importance if Nieraan had to guess.

“Don’t see military folk around here too often,” the Firrerreo observed aloud as he climbed a short set of stairs to the man. “Come to join the fray?” he motioned back at the activity filliing the yard, though the apparent sarcasm in his voice said he didn’t truly believe that was the case.

But why had this man—no Sith that Nieraan recognized— come here?

[CaptainBonkers]

Andon gave the Sith Lord approaching him a quick once-over. A near-human about six feet tall with a silvery tint to his skin and very non-human teeth. Probably a firrerreo then, which meant that the Sith was likely older than his outward appearance suggested. The way the man carried himself, however, led Andon to believe he was on the younger end of the scale. There was certain youthful swagger in the man's movement you rarely saw in older people.

"Merely observing for now, master Sith." he replied. The sarcasm in the man's voice had not eluded him but the proposition itself had slightly piqued his interest but only for a moment. From what he had seen, it was likely that there wasn't much he could learn in the training yards here. Knowing how many of the instructors were merely older students instead of Jedi defectors or adepts akin to himself it was unlikely that there was much Andon could do by joining other than humiliate an instructor or two in front of their students. Then again he hardly had anything better to do.

"Thanks to Navy being its usual slapdash self I've got time to kill." he added.