The group ended up dropping Buwaro off in a secure portion of the walled-off portion of Hell. Admitting to himself that he was nervous, he took a deep breath and focused on his walking meditation as he wandered into Hell, slipping through areas he knew were less populated so that he could avoid detection, in case anyone saw the Fury landing. His meditations extended his senses even as his eyes closed, so that he could avoid those who might approach him asking uncomfortable questions.

After about an hour, he spotted what looked like a military camp. He relaxed his senses and wandered in, his black trenchcoat shifting from his steps alone. The lack of wind was almost disturbing to someone who'd grown up on Tatooine. Seeing few better options, he approached the tents, his pack shifting lightly with each step.

He made it to the tents in short order. Glancing around, he noticed the Demons were all fairly well-developed of frame, as if they'd been put to harder training than he had. Then again, he'd been trained in the mind as much as the body, so hopefully the dual focus left him only slightly behind.

"Hey, you," someone shouted, and he glanced over to see a black-and-orange Fire Demon with large orange eyes. "Who th'hell are you?"

"Buwaro," he responded smartly. "Who is asking?"

"I'm Azurai," the Demon snarled, "and you're in the wrong regiment."

"I'm not actually in a regiment, sir," Buwaro replied. "I'm looking to start in one, however."

Azurai stared at him in confusion, then began to laugh. "If you failed basic training, you don't get to be in a regiment," he mocked. "What makes you think you can waltz into our camp, take up residence with us, if you failed basic training?"

Buwaro frowned, staring at the Fire Demon intensely. He extended his senses into the belligerent one's mind and asked, "What's your problem all of a sudden?"

"My problem is you're just walkin' in like you own the place," Azurai snarled.

Buwaro's power got a slightly different answer – Azurai was apparently trying to test just how meek the newbie was, in order to see whether Buwaro could be pushed around. Luckily, it seemed the physical training he'd undergone was only slightly tougher than what he'd already dealt with. "Why not test me?" Buwaro asked. "Maybe the big guys missed something vital. Like they did with your arrogance."

Azurai growled, then grabbed Buwaro by the sleeve and hauled him to the center of the camp, where a practice duel was about to end in the center of a well-established ring. The fight ended a moment later, and Azurai hauled Buwaro into the ring. "Azurai, who's this?" a Wind Demon asked, his scales pale green and black.

"Some punk who wants to fuck with my head," the crabby Fire Demon snapped.

"If I wanted to do that," Buwaro said as they squared off, "I'd definitely want a condom first."

Azurai quickly saw red, eyes glowing with fury. He rushed Buwaro, who began to defend cautiously against the suddenly-extended claws, bringing his senses to bear so that he wouldn't be cut to ribbons by the berserker.

Azurai quickly pressed Buwaro back and left a small gash on his arm, but the younger Demon was focusing on his foe's combat style, trying to find a weakness. Another gash set blood into Buwaro's right eye, but he'd dangerously over-extended himself. Buwaro swooped in and left a shallow gash on the Demon's side, which only seemed to drive Azurai into a bigger fury. Another cut dug into Buwaro's shoulder, and the boy grimaced. He was getting nowhere playing the cautious game.

Azurai left another shallow cut, leaving himself open again, and Buwaro pounced, missing his foe again. Azurai then swiped and left a far deeper cut, once again dangerously over-extended.

Taking a quick stock of his body, however, Buwaro knew better than to press his advantage with his current wounds. He quietly backed out of the ring scratched into the dirt, bowing his head in the process. Azurai glared at him. "Get back here, I ain't done fuckin' you up yet," he snarled.

"You keep leaving yourself with dangerous openings," Buwaro said, "but I'm hardly skilled enough to take them at my best, and I'm hardly at my best. I'll recover if I quit now, but I don't trust you to not kill me if I fall. Besides, why should resources of war be wasted?" Azurai grumbled and walked away, looking even more irritable than before. The boy was put off by Azurai's disturbing level of bloodlust, but there was nothing for it now.

The Wind Demon's hand fell on Buwaro's uninjured shoulder, and he said, "Azurai's always been a grumpy one. I'm sorry you had to meet him first. I'll help you patch up. I'm Tsavo, by the way."

"Thank you, Tsavo," Buwaro nodded, following his new ally.

It turned out that Tsavo was an alchemist, and had brewed a healing potion. Buwaro gulped it down, grimacing at the taste but enjoying the soothing, yet itchy feeling it left behind. "Thank you again," he told Tsavo.

"You should spend some time practicing," Tsavo said. "General Iratu won't want any slackers in our fights."

Buwaro nodded, thinking to himself. It seemed that he'd be at the bottom of the totem pole for some time. That was fine – his own Master, Darth Imperius, had been a slave before he ascended to the Dark Council. He'd follow in the footsteps of Sepith Veilcurse, at least in regards to his ascension to power.

In short: quickly and with strong foundations.


Now that he was semi-introduced, Buwaro sat outside of the ring and watched others fight. He was very attentive, barely bothering to get up and stretch every hour or so. After several hours of watching and taking mental notes, he settled in for the night in a spare tent. His eyes slowly drifted shut as he extended his senses around him in meditation.

It was then that he felt someone approaching – but it wasn't Azurai. Buwaro sat upright, grimacing, glad that Tsavo's healing potion had patched up the worst of his wounds over the first three hours. It was almost like a slow-acting medpak, but better over its long time.

Finally, the gigantic General Iratu sat outside of Buwaro's tent. "Hey, Buwaro. Do you remember me at all?" he asked.

Buwaro frowned as he sat up, seeking the general's thoughts. Surprisingly, they were not easily reached – not for power in the Force, but simply a strong will. Buwaro decided after a moment of trying to not bother for now. "Should I?" he asked quietly. "You do seem familiar somehow, but I can't figure out how."

Iratu smiled sadly. "It's a long story," he said quietly. "Maybe someday I'll tell you."

"Why not now?" Buwaro asked.

"Because Azurai's waiting for me in our tent," the Earth Demon muttered.

Buwaro frowned, before getting the idea. "...no offense, general," he stated, "but how did you manage to fall in love with that sociopath?"

Iratu blinked, but shrugged it off. "He's very loyal," the Earth Demon said, "so he kinda saved my ass more'n a few times."

"And wrecked it in return?" Buwaro joked dryly. Iratu laughed weakly at the bad joke. "In all seriousness, though," the younger Demon said, his eyes losing their humor, "either bring out his better qualities, or find someone less bloodthirsty. He makes me think of our enemies more than he does an ally."

Iratu seemed to pale. Buwaro took the moment of shock to check his superior's thoughts, and nearly paled himself. "He's not that bad," Iratu muttered.

"He is," Buwaro grumbled. "If I hadn't been half as good at defense as I am, I'd have died in that fight."

Iratu winced and walked away, obviously displeased – and by Buwaro's understanding, not with the critique of Azurai. Buwaro laid back down, dazed himself.

'Darius Elexion – an Angel – adopted him? Adopted us? And Iratu is sad that I'm "just like the other Demons"?' he thought to himself. 'Why don't I remember a Darius?'

He considered the Great War a moment later. 'Perhaps he died not long after I was born. That's frustrating.' Buwaro quietly tried to ignore the doubt that entered his mind.

He had trouble sleeping that night.


The next morning, Buwaro began his training with another Fire Demon – a woman named Triska, looking like a fox with antlers. Buwaro let her begin the fight, and she did with gusto.

A light scratch on his cheek, just enough to hurt, but Buwaro retaliated with a surprisingly powerful punch. She stumbled back a tad and took his moment of surprise to lash out again, leaving herself wide open for a maneuver. Buwaro slid under and to her right, outside of her slash, and struck with his fist – she doubled over, shocked at the force behind his blow. She swiped, barely scraping his shoulder, and he landed another fist in her face. She then slipped to the ground and kicked his leg out from under him, and he collapsed to the ground, hitting his head just wrong.

A moment later, he came to, barely aware that he'd passed out a moment ago, and she offered him a hand. "For someone who took a beating from Azurai yesterday," she admitted, "you're damn good."

"I guess I did have a handicap," Buwaro groaned, taking her hand, "but I won't let that excuse my loss." She hauled him up, grinning, and helped him to Tsavo's tent.

Once there, Buwaro shook his head at the potion. "Just bandage me," he said. "I'll deal with my own stupidity the hard way."

Tsavo frowned. "That's time you won't be practicing," he noted.

"I'll manage," Buwaro replied. "I'll probably take a potion tonight and tomorrow night, if no one else needs one over those days." Tsavo blinked, but conceded, and began to patch Buwaro up the old-fashioned way.

Three days later, Buwaro had recovered almost fully while he'd been studying under Tsavo. The Wind Demon had been surprised that Buwaro was willing to be a medical dummy, in return for simply learning how to do the things Tsavo did. On the second day of his study, Buwaro took a dose of the potion, and began his training in greater depth. Triska proved to be a good training partner, as did a Water Demon named Abyset. He was much like an angler fish in form, and Buwaro couldn't help but tease him a few times by batting at the drooping light on his head.

Abyset quickly impressed that it hurt to do that, and so Buwaro immediately stopped his cat impression and apologized. After that, they got along far better.

Buwaro began to push himself in his training. Despite having "failed basic training," he began to gain respect for his willingness to respect others' boundaries and his drive to improve. A week passed before he decided to truly push himself.

"At the same time?" Abyset echoed, surprised.

"We can't always fight one-on-one," Buwaro shrugged. "Least I can do is finally learn how to fight with a handicap."

"Your funeral," Triska laughed in response. "Come on, let's get started."

They entered the ring, and the fight began. Triska lunged in at Buwaro, who easily ducked under her attack. Abyset came in, striking hard and fast, but Buwaro took the blow and grabbed his fist. The next thing Abyset knew, Buwaro was behind him, and he had rolled onto his stomach. Triska lunged in, connecting with Buwaro this time, but the boy was already in motion, and Triska barely dodged an attack.

Abyset rolled upright, preparing to step in, while Triska slipped a cross at Buwaro to set him up for an attack. In turn, Buwaro sent a fist at her, stepping forward as it missed and delivering an elbow to her ear. It didn't do much more than set her ears ringing, but it was enough for Abyset. He landed a hit in Buwaro's side, the boy spinning with it as Triska struck. A glancing blow to his cheek left her right side open to a bell-ringer in the other ear, ducking under Abyset's claws. The boy found himself on his back, but managed to roll upright in the process as Triska lunged at him. She left his balance off, but Buwaro took it in relative stride, sending a foot at her ribs. She backed off just in time to receive a glancing blow herself. Abyset's circling maneuver left Buwaro off-balance once more, set up for a hammer-blow by Triska.

To her shock, she missed entirely, but Buwaro was once again backed into a corner. He began to realize he wouldn't win without some luck, but he wouldn't fall that easily. His fist lashed out and, though he missed, he pushed Triska to stagger back into Abyset's way. The two ended up tangled up, and Buwaro bopped Triska's nose, sending her backing away in a moment of actual pain. Abyset stepped in and swiped with his claws, barely missing Buwaro's chest. The boy smiled as Triska stepped in behind him, striking his cheek and wiping the smile off. Buwaro spun, and the outside of his foot connected with Triska's stomach, sending her staggering back and groaning as Abyset swung at the boy. Buwaro hopped back, against the edge of the ring, and Triska stumbled forward to strike. Buwaro found himself on the ground as he avoided the attack, but with a kick he got her to back off as he rolled upright. Abyset then came in, Buwaro dodging his assault by a hair.

Triska's strike was easily predicted at this point – a stomach blow that Buwaro dodged, setting her up for a forward hop and a shove back, leaving her and Abyset momentarily tangled again. Abyset, however, managed to hit Buwaro anyway, leaving a bump under his eye. Triska struck and missed, Buwaro pulling her into a stomach blow that knocked her out of the ring entirely. She groaned and rolled onto her back as Abyset struck, Buwaro blocking the worst of the hit. With that, Buwaro's full attention turned to his remaining foe, striking to set him up. Abyset saw through it this time, and dodged in a way Buwaro hadn't wanted – but despite being pushed into a poor position, Buwaro recovered admirably, knocking the Water Demon back with a punch to the sternum. Abyset punched again, but Buwaro caught the blow and hurled him across the ring, the Water Demon landing roughly.

Abyset grinned and backed out of the ring, saying, "Not bad, Buwaro. You took some serious hits there too!"

"No kidding," Buwaro coughed, letting his guard relax. "You're both very good at what you do, and you set me up more times than I could keep track of." He hustled to Triska's side and offered his hand.

She took it gladly and grinned. "What a turn around," she laughed weakly.

"I had time to recover and practice," Buwaro smirked. "Oh, I noticed some things – Abyset, you can't do power blows too well, so I'd suggest either building strength or working on your aim with a hit. Triska, you get baited way too easily, but other than that you seem good." Many eyes lingered on him at his declaration, and he blushed. "I'm observant," he said nervously.

"So you're helping us with our fights, ah?" she grinned. "Thanks, I'll try and keep that in mind. More caution on my end?"

"Yes ma'am," Buwaro smiled back. "There's always room for improvement." She barked a laugh and slung her arm onto his shoulder as they left to get a patch-up from Tsavo.


Buwaro spent the rest of his month in the camp getting acclimated. During this time, he developed the athletic ability he needed via the Force. His skills were slow to develop, as was his true power, but at least they were developing. During this time, he began recording his findings on the datapad in his backpack in the evenings. Turning down the glow of the screen made sure he was unobserved, but he used his senses to make doubly sure.

At the end of that month, one afternoon when he was sure he wasn't being observed, Buwaro walked a good ways away from the camp and found a spot behind a rock. Once settled in, he opened the old leatheris backpack he had carried to the camp with him. Within were three items: the datapad he'd stored his findings on; a holocommunicator, to contact his master Darth Imperius with; and a cord to connect the two. He quietly transferred the datapad's recorded findings to the holocommunicator, then waited for his master to call.

Buwaro almost felt like a Sith Inquisitor at this point, and smiled to himself, occasionally pulsing out with his senses.

Finally, Darth Imperius gave him a call. "Buwaro," the man's blue hologram stated, "how goes your first month?"

"Bottom rung of the ladder at first," the boy said, "but I'm getting there. It won't be more than a year before I'm passing where you were that first year," he joked.

"It's possible, I suppose," the man smiled back. By now, Darth Imperius had almost reached middle age, but he was still surprisingly spry and sharp. "Either way, eyes on the prize. Form the bonds of trust, then show them your power."

"Yes sir," Buwaro smiled. "Thoughts on my notes?"

"It's disturbing that the Great War is going on still," the Darth said, "though the Republic and Empire have been at odds for longer. Keep your eyes and ears open for any openings for positions of power."

"Of course, Master," Buwaro nodded. "May the Force ever serve you."

"And you, my apprentice." The communication cut off, and Buwaro sensed out around him. No one seemed to be nearby, so he packed up and returned to camp.