...and on multiple occasions, he quite nearly had come to that point. He remained chained to the mossy wall by both his arms and legs, hanging there awkwardly. While this once had been a painful position, Matt's senses had grown so numb he barely felt anything at all.

Which quite frankly frustrated the Sith guards who did occassionally attend to him. As if to torture him further, they would seemingly forget about him completely, the hunger and thirst almost drove him to death...

...only to then come in and forcibly feed him and make him drink some pathetic scraps of food. Every so often they would speak to one another as they did, and although they spoke in the Sith tongue, he could make out the disgust in their voices.

"I am not Tarnus," he rasped a couple of times, realizing that the guards did not understand him...

...or perhaps that they simply did not care.

While initially such statements would result in a sound beating, the last couple of times he had spoken the others merely laughed and snorted in derision. From their position where one had been holding him up and the other had grasped his jaw to open his mouth and force in some sort of stale bread and water, the "feeder" turned to the other, stated something, laughed...

..and the other threw Matt back to the ground, laughing sardonically as well and kicking him in the stomach. As Matt groaned in pain, one of them stated something in Sith, and both departed.

And that had been the last time he had been tended to. Matt wondered if perhaps they had finally decided to let him pass to the next life, as in a moment of clarity pain shot up his spine. The universe had gone peacefully black then, and remained thus for quite some time...

...until again the door to his prison creaked open. Matt coudn't stop himself.

"Noooooo..." he moaned achingly. And then he fell into silence, knowing there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop whatever would befall him next.

[ 07-10-2013 02:19 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Matt Stanza ]

--------------------

If they only knew...

Each night she'd returned to the mossy place, put her ear to the soft greens, and took in the lessons it told her. Or rather those lessons patiently explained by her mysterious benefactor, over and over until at length with great effort and much practice each had been learned. And in that learning lent her greater strength in herself, which was after all the greatest power one may possess.

Every day she grew more and more adept, even if that which she was mastering was something which might have been but nothing in comparison to what her unknown Teacher knew. But for a young Sith female of the warrior clan, one who would never have even a shred of hope of possessing even the small bits of Sith magicks the warriors themselves owned in their weaponry and in the bonds with their tuk'ata, it was enough.

She delighted in practicing beneath the very haughty noses of her betters one of her very favorite things she had learned. She had no idea what it was called, and so dubbed it the Art of Subtle Being, for lack of a better name. Time and again she would head toward the Grand Dining Hall, her head bowed, staring down at the flagstones over which her naked feet trod, waiting until she knew for a fact that she was being absolutely ignored by any and all who passed her by.

And then in a moment, was indeed beyond their notice completely. In this manner she would then go into the dining hall, walk about between the lesser lords and their ladies, thumb her nose or show her fangs at them, and then flounce away with head held high. Such was the power of the Art of Subtle Being, ever so much more powerful for the fact that she was a being not to be seen very much by others to begin with.

Now she was heading back to her lonely little room, there to snatch perhaps an hour's rest before her day's labors began when she heard it. A groan, coming from... where?

With a start she realized she had strayed from her path, so intent on studying that which her Teacher had just divulged to her. This magick was one that was of a more ominous nature, for with it she would be able to defend herself from attack by stopping her would-be attacker from breathing. Now her own breath stopped, caught in her throat with the realization that she was in the area of the dungeons.

She blinked in the murky light, swallowed as that dismal, distant groan came to her ears again. All her smug self-satisfaction fled her then with the realization that there was someone else down there, someone upon whom she should take pity if only for the fact that they had something common with one another:

Whoever the unknown person was, he wasn't noticed by the Sith very much either.

Her heart leapt into her throat, and led her feet through the noisome corridors, down dank and slippery stone steps, into dimmer and dimmer light, between narrowing walls and over a floor which became less and less flagstone and more and more an admixture of dirt and broken rock.

And she reached a sorry, wooden door. And heard a heart-rending, "No-o-ooo..."

And realized with a start that whoever was behind that door wasn't in there alone.

So she did the only thing she could think of under the circumstances. Stepping quietly a little further down the corridor, she flattened herself against the cold, mossy wall. Then she put the Art of Subtle Being into practice...

...and gods only knew what else. He had been just about able to at least turn himself towards his new "guests" when a red-skinned arm jerked out and grabbed him by an arm. Matt bit his lip, trying to hold back a wince of pain, but was not successful. Another powerful hand then gripped his other arm to stablize him while yet another pair of hands went to work.

Matt knew what was coming. A hand uncaringly grabbed his jaw, forcing it open and putting in a bite of some sort of bread. Matt involuntarily gagged on it, for it was stale and the bite was much to large...

...but a finger reached in and shoved it back in his mouth and down his throat. Matt swallowed painfully, coughing as he did so. His caretakers, seemingly amused by this, chuckled and administered a few more bites. When they were finished a small cateen of water was jammed to Matt's mouth and turned upwards, delivering a rather small amount of drink to his dry mouth, and not nearly enough to parch his thirst.

But it was enough to keep him alive. Matt couldn't stand it. "I'm not who you have been told," he groaned, the words barely coming out and probably not intelligible even if the Sith did understand basic.

One of them snorted, and the one still holding him upright shook him vigorously, stating something in Sith. Then, with no warning whatsoever, that particular worthy simply let go, allowing Matt to drop to the ground with a thud as something in his side snapped. Matt groaned once more as a new pain introduced itself, hoping that was the end of whatever the Sith was going to do...

..but of course it wasn't. One of the Sith, whose gleaming armor caught Matt's eye as he drew was appeared to be a sword, squatted to the ground beside him. The Warrior placed the point of his sword at Matt's throat.

"Silence, human!" he growled, pinning Matt with his sea green eyes for a few moments before gracefully getting back to his feet and reholstering his weapon. He turned to go then, along with his counterpart...

...but then paused once more, turning to then hover over Matt for another moment, regarding him once more as if taking in his features. Shaking his head then, the Sith delivered a strong kick in Matt's side, a smile exposing his fangs as once more Matt fought in vain not to scream in agony.

And at last, the two retreated, letting the door slam closed behind them, and leaving Matt to pray for death...

...for surely his friends had long since decided he was already gone by now.

[ 07-10-2013 10:41 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Matt Stanza ]

--------------------

No, she immediately contradicted that thought. They are not allowed. They too can only do that which is in the scope of their station, just as I can do practically nothing within these walls but carry trays and cower to nearly everyone else who lives within them.

The realization flamed her anger to new heights, heights from which she saw more than ever before... the least image being that of self-preservation. Or the greatest image being exactly that, depending upon how one viewed it...

Thus it was that for no other reason that she was angry with her own lot in life here, she made up her mind as to what she was going to do. Emboldened by her learnings, she came up with a plan of action, and without thinking acted upon it.

The door to the cell was opening... and as it did she crept forward, still hidden by the Art of Subtle Being. The two muscular Sith warriors who emerged through the door were carried thus by their great brawn, certainly not their brains. They laughed and joked crudely with each other over Matt's fate, planning yet more degradations to inflict upon him at their next visit.

Not if RhoHalla could help it.

She was so close to them she could feel the hairs upon the bare skin of their arms as they brushed past her. She dared to let go a puff of breath; it skirled about them like a cold miasma, just about at their chest level. The sea-green eyed one snarled something about living conditions, and went to fling his fur about his shoulders more tightly.

As his arms moved, they displayed the key that was stuck into the leather belt about his waist.

An invisible arm reached. Invisible fingers grasped.

And the pair of burly guardians, secure in their own brand of stupidity, hastened away down the corridor, heading to their barracks where raucous laughter and good Sith brandy awaited them.

Moments later, RhoHalla found herself alone in the murky little hallway, the key to Matt's cell dangling from her fingers. Before she could change her mind she whirled, set the key to the lock, and opened the door a crack.

She paused a moment, teetering between finding her rooms and finding herself.

The latter won. Letting the heavy door creak open a little bit more, she poked her head into the dismal darkness beyond.

"Hello?" she whispered before then falling silent, save for the thumping of her heart she was certain the inhabitant of this dungeon would clearly hear.

Oh no, not again... came the errant thought.

What he heard next lead him to believe that perhaps he finally was mentally breaking from it all. The voice, calling a hello, was soft and warm and inviting.

No bloody kriffing way, as Jasyn was so wont to say.

The thought, for a brief moment, elicited a brief but painful smile from Matt and he chuckled...

...but only once, for that stab of pain shot up his spine once more, and he groaned. As he did, Matt swore he heard a rustle of material, and maybe a softly booted footstep.

What fresh hell was this?

Despite his pain, Matt began to struggle to reorient his face to the moss-laden door of his prison.

--------------------

Only couldn't.

Now her heart was in full-blown empathy with the unseen captive. For all she knew it was a serial killer most foul, but even one who made a habit of taking the lives of others didn't deserve to be treated as less than an animal. Slipping inside, she let the door close nearly shut, effectively shutting out the great majority of what light had managed to filter in from the corridor without.

She took a careful step to her direct right, reaching out with her hands, seeking the wall that was nearest to her. For although she herself had never had the dubious pleasure of being held within, she knew those who were would be chained to one of the walls, more than likely in the most uncomfortable position that could possibly be managed. She knew she had to tread lightly, slowly.

"Are you here?" she whispered again as she felt her way along the wall. Eventually her patting hands came to a corner; drawing in a breath, she simply turned left and continued patting her way along the dripping, noisome walls.

Suddenly her searching hand bumped into something hard and round and very, very cold. It was an iron ring, hammered into the stone of the walls. Feeling about it, she came to what she knew to be a thick chain, and following along that came upon...

Something which felt very much like matted, dirty, wet hair. Beneath that, skin which had the breath of winter upon it. She patted softly now but with greater surety, falling to her knees beside the contorted form, not doing anything for the moment but letting her hands run across his face -- which felt to be pleasing to look upon, for an alien -- and chest and arms, wincing at each rough or torn or bloodied place her questing fingers came upon, there in the darkness of the cell.

She felt like crying, for what could she do? She had only really learned small magick: lifting a ball, cooling or warming her breath, and of course her favorite, the Art of Subtle Being. Of what good was that? How could she aid this poor man with what little she had?

She did have a key...

Feeling about, she found his face, and placing a warm hand on either cheek leaned in close.

"Have you strength to walk?" she whispered softly.

...he wasn't going to dare to turn away potential help either. The glimmering of hope gave him an edge of strength. Swallowing to wet his parched mouth, he then opened it to respond to the question posed by assistance he couldn't make out in the dimness.

Still the hands now rested on his face, unlike those he had become so accustomed to, were carefully placed, and gentle.

"I am not sure," he started softly, trailing for a moment as yet more determination swept over him. "But with help..." he paused again, pursing his lips, forcing his will to do the talking for him. "...I think so."

--------------------

This was one of those situations. After all, what would the guards think if their little plaything suddenly started to get stronger? RhoHalla didn't disregard for one minute the possibility that, no matter how hard he might try to feign weakness, anger against his captors might overwhelm him before she finally managed to free him. He might make an inadvertent move, a gesture, might say something in a tone of voice different from the haggard one now issuing from his throat.

Any little difference, and his gaolers would notice. They were trained for such things, after all. She only hoped her simple plan would be one they had never been trained for, or not only would Matt be recaptured...

This time he would be summarily executed. As would she, for aiding him.

"Come, then." Deft fingers found the locks, slipped the key therein, released the bonds which had held the man for a length of time so long it all blurred into one horrific Now. He immediately slumped into a ball, his weakened muscles cramping from the movement, unable to gain his feet.

A small, stifled cry squeezed from his lips, wafted into her ears. She cursed silently, knowing time was growing short.

"Here," she said as finding his battered body, she leaned down over him, and using the ability to warm her breath let it flow out upon his cramping, cringing flesh. It was the closest thing to trying to heal him that she could do, that and carefully knead the muscles in his legs in an attempt to awaken them.

It had to hurt. She knew it hurt. But S'slaan help them all, he never uttered a single sound after that initial stifled gasp.

For about five minutes or so she continued to minister to him, then stopped.

"We must go now; draw your strength from me."

Though short for a Sith, at 5'9" she was close to Matt's height, and being Sith, although female, was blessed with a muscular stature, one that had been toned and hardened by her near-slavery in the temple. She winced at how easily she lifted the man, how frail and slight he felt against her. She almost wanted to carry him, but innately knew that would demean him almost as much as the torture he had received from the two gaolers.

So instead she placed a strong arm about him, hugged him to her body, leaned a little away so that more of his weight fell on her than what fell upon his own feet, and stepped out from the cell and onto the broken floor of the corridor without. Quietly then, she closed the door... and dropped the key carefully on the ground where she knew the gaolers would see it.

Let them think it fell from the one's belt, should they return early, was the plan... a plan she fervently hoped would work in their favor and allow her the time to take Matt to the safest and yet most dangerous hiding place she could think of:

...but how the heck they were without any notice, however, he wasn't sure.

The time he had been on his feet was really not as long as it seemed. He gritted his teeth, ignoring any pain as best as he could and refusing to make a sound. Inwardly, he winced with the knowledge that his savior was carrying much more of his weight than he was. He had no idea where she was taking him...

...but all he could do was trust, in his current condition. After a time, they came to a stop. Matt's eyes still had not completely adjusted to the light, and his senses had been so very trained on keeping himself upright and moving that he really hadn't been able to assess his surroundings. He finally took a moment to do so.

They were still within the Temple, for they had not exited, but had arrived at some sort of transport station. Vaguely, Matt remembered them traveling in some sort of "subway like" transport when he had been here with Terrin, Galen, and the EE crew, and recognized the set up. Likewise he was thankful for the moment of pause from their movement, and unconsciously slumped just a little bit more, wincing with the knowledge that this motion was more than likely putting more stress on his new attendant. Biting his lip, Matt forced himself to remain upright on his own feet as much as possible without overtaxing himself too much even as a transport whooshed in to the waiting area.

--------------------

Matt's attendant gently prodded him to begin oving again...and as they did, a sensation he had not felt in quite some time invaded his senses. As they stepped out of the transport, Matt felt the rush of cold, fresh air.

Outdoors.

Unconsciously, he took a deep breath, which in turn brought on shooting pain he simply ignored although he did shudder sightly.

Freedom. At last.

For some time more they moved along...again, for a time Matt was uncertain of...but finally they approached a large, Temple-like building. Matt thought it looked vaguely familiar...but his mind was so concentrated on keeping his body upright and moving that he really couldn't analyze this possibility any further. Exhaustion was threatening to take completely over, and he was uncertain how much longer he could remain on his feet. At length, they entered the building, and Matt's attendant began to slow down, perhaps sensing his fatigue, and perhaps indicating they were almost to their destination.

Finally, she stopped, and gently lowered him down, off his feet. At this point he was so exhausted, he was literally fighting to just stay concious...

...but he forced himself to state two simple words. Or at least, he thought he did. "Thank you."

Then he fainted dead away.

--------------------

Not so much, though...

RhoHalla remained still until the feeble human's words and completely atonic slump forced her into sudden action. As he slumped heavily beside her, his words of simple thanks rang hotly in her ears.

What have I done?

Those simple words filled her thoughts with equal and growing heat as she quickly caught the failing human and scooped him up in her arms. The motion, combined with the intrusion of those words, interrupted the hold she had upon the Spell of Subtle Being which had miraculously gotten them through the nighttime streets of Phrinn'chatka, deposited by transport at the "end of the line" at the great city's edge, and then all the way to this place, hidden in the dismal hills to the south where nothing green ever seemed to take foothold. They both stood, rimned by moonlight, able to be seen by any and all who might be passing by...

...and yet still she didn't move.

Now is the last time, she thought to herself as she gently lowered the man to the ground. She looked down at his frail, beaten form.

I could kill him... I could say I found him escaped, and killed him as such. No one would say me nay, I would in fact be rewarded to a higher position within the Temple...

Her eyes darkened immediately, and she cast a fast look at the Temple's lowering walls. They widened then with the flood of sudden knowledge.

It is this place... it is He Himself; it is S'laan who brings these drear thoughts into my head.

For a moment she even considered them, but cast them aside like chaff on the wind. Yes she more than likely would be deemed a heroine for her courageous acts... but only for a day. That slightly elevated stature would only fall once more before the patriarchy of Temple life; even if promoted all she had to look forward to the remainder of her life was merely...

More of the same.

Most importantly, though, was her sudden realization at this point in time of who indeed she really was. What she believed in. She thought back, remembering the few words taught to her by Freedon Naad, thought too of her mysterious benefactor hidden away on Khar Delba.

I must get us there, somehow, she thought before lowering herself beside the limp form and nestling her body against his. The night air was chill, she didn't want him to die of exposure now that safety was so close she could almost reach out and grasp it. But...

But.

That would depend on S'slaan... and the resiliency of this man. All she could do was provide him a secure resting place to hide in, and bring him food and other necessities until he was strong enough to travel to Khar Delba.

I will bring him there! she vowed as, feeling him beginning to stir a bit beneath her small ministrations she got to her feet again, his limp form dangling in her arms.

My Teacher will help us, I know it!

Thinking of nothing else then, she took in a breath and strode fearlessly into the noisome temple, steeling herself both mentally and emotionally for the horrific turmoil she knew she would have to face in even that brief exposure.

S'laan: help this one, be not fierce in your defense of this, Your Place, she prayed as, once inside, she followed a dark corridor which coiled back into the shadows. It branched in places, creating a labryinth of tunnels intended to frighten and confuse invaders of this sacred place so that they would lose themselves to it, and eventually to the ferocity of their god as well.

But there was something familiar about one particular spot...

There. This was deep into the Temple, hidden from both the entrance proper... and from the little corridor by which she herself had first entered herein. Gently depositing the human on the stone floor, she breathed warmth upon him, then rose.

"I shall return quickly, with food, water, and bedding," she whispered. Then before the weight of S'slaan's power could take over her being she fled, hastening back the way she had trod those many days ago, to make her way back to the Temple of Warriors and gather up what she could to aid in the recovery of Matt Stanza.

While in her wake something horrific seemed to snarl and roar, and with magicks unknown to any souls but that of the Sith reached forth with something not quite a hand and grasped Time by the throat.

Because at last someone had heard his pleas, and acted on them. And he was safe because of her, and her alone.

For a long time, however, Matt had fallen so deep into the recesses of fatigued slumber that he had no awareness of her departure, nor of where he was. Hours could have passed...or for that matter, days, and Matt Stanza would not have known. But at long last, a sleep of sheer fatigue begain to recede into simple slumber...

...and slowly thought and awareness began to return. The first senses that registered in Matt's mind were nothing more than mere reflex...a shiver registering the sense of cold, a shuddery breath in response to remaining pains, an ache in his dry throat as he took in a breath indicating dehydration.

But Matt's keen mind did not stop there, even in his rest. He still was quite unable to move of his own accord, but logical thought was returning. He began to wonder just how long he had been imprisoned...

...and what had happened to his commrades and friends? What of Panthar Dantares, who had betrayed him...? And Stargazer and Sha'Rhylla...?

These were the damning thoughts that at length brought Matt back to conciousness enough to realize that he was surrounded by the dark, and that he was alone...

...and where are your friends, Matt Stanza? And where is she who was your kind benefactor...? They left you here alone, to die...

...and she has left you here as well.

Perhaps it was the foreboding darkness of S'slan and His Temple that was driving such thoughts. And for some time, Matt entertained such notions...

...but logic once more took hold.

You know not what happened to your friends and colleagues, and now is not the time to analyze that without any data. But you do know that your benefactor had every moment and every opportunity to do whatever she might have wanted to you...

...yet she did nothing other than to bring you here, to safety. Take that for what it is worth, if there is nothing else to come.

Still, Matt Stanza wondered where she had gone, if she would return...

...and if she was safe. For she had taken a mighty risk for him...

...and he wouldn't forget it either.

--------------------

Jasyn Lancaster really wanted a drink.

Really bad.

But the problem was, he was having to for once, much to his dismay, be the "responsible one" this go around. He had barely been able to help Cazun Farr aboard the Sith fighter, the other man was so kriffing drunk. Now, Cazun snoozed blissfully on, draped ungracefully in one of the passenger's seats aboard the Sith fighter, snoring loudly every so often. The Sith pilot which had been assigned to escort them to K'eel Doba...

...hadn't said a word. Jasyn wasn't even sure he spoke basic. It had been around three hours since they had left Khar Deblan space, and Jasyn knew it would be at least a couple more before they arrived on K'eel Doba. He also knew that they were too close to utilize hyperspace, not without some piloting skill and precision, so he was not alarmed that standard drive was chosen for their journey.

Not to say that he wasn't in some form alarmed for other reasons. As each minute passed, Jasyn felt more awkward sitting behind the silent Sith pilot, who kept an intense gaze on the controls of the fighter. Mentally, he cursed Cazun for having gotten so damn schnokered...

...although the gods knew he couldn't blame him. Intermittently, a little shoulder devil popped up on his shoulder, snickering.

What if the Sith pilot ISN'T taking you to K'eel Doba? What if what's happening isn't at all what you've been told? He is flying a Sith fighter after all, and you don't know how to fly it or how to read or speak the language he is using to fly the thing...

Unconsciously, Jasyn sighed disgustedly. How he wished Terrin and Galen were here. And Matt...

He frowned, sadly, feeling like the worst friend ever. At length, Jasyn just couldn't take the silence any longer.

"How long til arrival at K'eel Doba?" he inquired, not really expecting a reply, but suddenly wishing for anything to distract him from his guilt-ridden thoughts of the friend who had been left behind for far too long.

[ 04-03-2015 12:21 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Jasyn Lancaster ]

--------------------

...and although he could have most certainly have been dreaming it, his senses told him that he was now both covered by something to keep him warm and had at some point been given drink to parch his dried lips and mouth. And now, when he moved slightly to stretch yet cramped muscles, pain seemed to have lessened.

Had his benefactor returned, to care for him, and he was in turn so out of the loop that he hadn't even realized it?

Still half-asleep, Matt groaned slightly, more to clear his throat and to use a voice that had been silent to anything other than sounds of agony for so long. He swore he had heard something...but maybe his ears were playing tricks on him in this dark place.

"Are you there?" he finally managed, partially rasped out, slowly cracking an eye open as he did so.

--------------------

She had indeed returned to the dark temple, armed with a set of velvet Sith robes, some soft bedding, and a boxed luncheon which at the moment lay unobtrusively in the dark shadows of Matt's hiding place. She herself had been in the process of again doing what little she could to aid in his healing, and that was to breathe warmth upon his battered form. She had done this over a period of time which seemed to Matt to be over a week or so, coming with food which she had forced down his throat, water to soothe his parched lips and fevered brow, and bedding to replace that which he had soiled while doing battle to regain his former strength and vitality.

Which seemed to be coming back.

She couldn't help but notice that his voice sounded stronger, his eye more clear than she'd seen it during the entirety of her secret ministrations.

And he is lucid.

"I- I am- it is I," she stammered, regaining her composure as she found her feet only to take a courteous few steps backward and away from him.

No need to frighten him by finding a Sith hovering closely as he comes to his senses, she thought to herself.

Turning quickly then, she stepped into the shadows and leaning over retrieved a bundle. Coming back then, she stopped at what she determined to be a distance balancing discretion with concern and held the bundle out.

"Clothing for... for- y-you..."

Now she gritted her teeth and blinked her rusty eyes three times, quite rapidly. Dark shadows suddenly seemed to be pressing in from where the bundle had been laid, seeking with steely fingers of arrogance and blood to wriggle within their folds, to coil up her arms, to enter into her mind...

She shook her head, her horn-chimes tinkling delicately.

Great S'slaan, hold your hand. Lend us your Fierce Strength, for your people have been turning aside from you. We come to your Presence seeking protection and wisdom.

Harm us not, my Lord S'slaan, but lend us Thy strength and magicks in healing this innocent being.

Perhaps it had been something Freedon had once told her that provoked her odd prayer. But into his darkness did it project; she could only hope the Great God would not become angry with her for turning his Temple into a place of mercy and care, and reach out a mighty hand against them.

Nothing happened but the drear thoughts which had been subliminally battering against her seemed to lessen a bit. Taking in a deep breath, she held out the bundle to Matt once again.

"For you," she repeated, her voice strong now yet soft and feminine. She tilted her face down, afraid to look him in the eye. For she knew he more than likely had no love for her race, and the last thing she wanted was that he would perceive her as a threat of any kind to him.

..but little did she know he had known enough Sith to realize that they, like all mortals, were not all the same. And he sensed with certainty that she meant him no harm.

At length he reached out, and took the bundle from her hand, pausing for a moment as he first grasped it and her rusty eyes for a moment met his.

"Thank you," he stated softly. "I am Matt Stanza," he then said, taking the bundle then out of her hands completely...

...and watching her intently as he did so.

--------------------

Encouraged, she raised her eyes a little and peeped at him from beneath her long lashes.

"Those are very good robes, made from the finest g'Narian velvet," she remarked, now lifting her face to fully meet his own frank gaze. "They should keep you warm, and-"

She stopped abruptly, nipping off the remaining "hidden from the eyes of others" as the portent of that comment slammed into her. For in order that the robes indeed hide the human from others of her own kind he of course would be out among them. Would they be enough to deceive the brawny Warriors? And what of herself? So far she had managed to keep her surrepticious actions beneath the notice of her superiors, but it would only be a matter of time before the small but steady stream of supplies she had filched would be missed. Surely suspicions would be raised in her direction; hadn't she already been warned once for being tardy in showing up for one miserable chore, and another time for being sluggish in responding to a lesser lord's demands?

"Comfortable."

She let out a little sigh at her inner questions, then deciding that worry would gain her nothing decided to follow the examples set by both Freedon Naad and her unknown Teacher.

Squaring her jaw, she firmed.

"Where are you from, Matt Stanza, and what offense did you commit to warrant being imprisoned?"

Matt's green eyes defocused, as for a moment he really couldn't remember exactly why he and Panthar Dantares had come here in the first place. But then he did remember.

To offer assistance, as all powers had been blocked.

"I came here to lend assistance, with anther, and I was betrayed." He paused, his look darkening for a moment.

[i]He had to wonder whatever had happened to Panthar, who left him behind and happily went along with ShaRhylla and Stargazer.

"Your people were lead to believe I was someone else," he answered at last, his green eyes snapping alert once more, looking back to RhoHalla.

--------------------

"And who are these others of which you speak?" she asked then. "The one with whom you came, who betrayed you. The one you were mistaken to be.

"Who are these unknown personages?"

She let an inner smile come to her as these questions fell from her lips. For there was once a time in her not too very distant past when asking questions of such forthrightness and intimacy of another being, especially of a male - Sith or no - would have been an anathema to her. She couldn't help but be pleased with her quietly growing bravado.I will take this one from K'eel Doba altogether... together we shall travel to Khar Delba, and then...

Her thoughts suddenly derailed as she quite suddenly realized that she had been more than demanding of this man. While gaining his name, and asking for those of beings who might very well have been his accomplices, she had let fall her adherence to standard etiquette and had refrained from telling him her own.

"My name is RhoHalla," she said in sudden non sequiteur, before dropping her eyes and falling silent once again.

"I am honored to meet you, RhoHalla," he said earnestly, and quite honestly, for she had most certainly saved his life. He hoped she didn't take the statement as too forward or inappropriate...for it was quite simply that of earnest appreciation. To reflect that appreciation further, he at last unfolded the robes she had given him, wrapping them about himself...

...and finally realizing with a sudden start that he had been out of it long enough to not even realize his lack of clothing. His face reddened slightly...

...and then he regained his composure, quite quickly. "I came here with one named Panthar Dantares," he answered simply. "I do not know what happened to him once I was imprisoned..."

He trailed, his green eyes defocusing as he thought for a moment before they snapped alert once more, "But he had been part of a deception to lead your people to believe I was a leader of the Empire...one named Sorben Tarnus."

Here Matt paused, wondering for just a brief moment if perhaps he was stating too much. But that moment was ever so brief...

...for his senses, though not those of a Jedi, were quite keen. He read no sense of deception from RhoHalla in the slightest. And those senses had made him one of Terrin's sole trusted employees, his second in command, no less, and a close friend..

Oh kriffing hell. Terrin. Jasyn. Galen. What had happened to them...???

[ 11-26-2015 10:17 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Matt Stanza ]

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What would my Teacher think of me?

The thought made her nose wrinkle even more, and she shot a look through half-lidded eyes to meet the earnest green pair before her. With a start, she recognized the utter honesty with which he was honoring her; blinking, she sat back and let her features smooth.

"I'm afraid I don't know of this- this 'Panthar Dan-Dan-tar-es," she finally said, her silky voice stumbling over the unfamiliarity of the name. "But if you need assistance in finding him, I believe we may find that--"

Suddenly she broke off, biting her lip, as a sudden memory kicked open a door in her mind.

Panthar Dantares! Of course she knew of this name! Did not her Teacher tell her of a Writ of Abeyance, decreed by the Great Dark Lord Aelvedaar himself, that all Sith should cease and desist in all they do in the effort to find him? And a companion who was with him--

"YOU are Matt Stanza!" she suddenly blurted, raising her hands to her mouth then as though to stifle any further outburst from coming.

What was going on here?

"Y-yes," he stammered a bit, acting quickly to regain his composure. And while he wasn't sure it was the best idea for him to ask, he needed to know, if she would in fact tell him. "How do you know of my name?"

After all, while most outside of the Sith worlds could know his name in relation to Eagle Enterprises, the Sith would not necessarily...

...save for perhaps a select few...

--------------------

Freedon Naad has gone the ways of the wilderness, but I may be able to entice leave of my wretched life here in the Temple by going instead with this one. Perhap even to Khar Delba!

Blinking, she reached her hands out to Matt in entreaty.

"Oh, no no no!" she burst out with. "Please, do not fear. There is no evil within me toward you, no hidden agenda.

"It is only that I have been so concerned with assisting you in regaining your health that I have forgotten something I have learned."

Casting her eyes furtively about, she leaned in closer to breathe the words into Matt's ear. For the moment she thought it prudent not to reveal her source.

"Let all of K'eel Doba cease and desist in all efforts but that of finding the whereabouts of the two missing men, Panthar Dantares and Matt Stanza, and furthermore give to the bearers of this Writ all assistance and due respect they would award unto me, Dark Lord Aelvedaar..."

She sat back, looking into his widening eyes, taking in the expression on his face in which a battle between hope and distrust was being heavily waged.

"It is an Official Writ of Abeyance," she concluded, letting her hands fall into her lap.

"They are coming for you and Panthar."

...for last he knew, it was ShaRhylla...

...they may or may not pay the slightest head to the Writ.

"I trust you, RhoHalla, he then stated aloud, purposefully using her name, sensing that, in all her apologizes, she was quite used to having to grovel when things went wrong.

Unconsciously, he scowled a bit at this, never having believed in such treatment of others. Then, realizing he was scowling based on her reaction to him, he let his face soften, and he directed his green eyes into hers.

"I hope in time I can somehow repay you for what you have done for me," he stated then simply, honestly.

--------------------

"I understand you are a stranger here amongst us, and have been treated badly. Thus you probably don't trust us; I don't blame you for that."

She hung her head momentarily, aching for how he had been treated. But then, even as she empathized so deeply with Matt and his terrible experiences within the temple, she couldn't help but wonder if perhaps there had been a reason for his imprisonment. All she had to go on, after all, was what he'd told her; honestly she hadn't managed to scrounge up the why of his being kept in the dungeons of the Great Temple of the Warriors, only that he had been.

She pondered further, wondering what it exactly was that was behind the Great Dark Lord's command to seek this man.

Was the intent good or bad? Was he to be rescued from one world... or merely to be transferred into imprisonment upon another?

But that didn't make any sense. Why would the population be placed on alert to find him? Had his escape from the dungeons been discovered? That couldn't be correct; she'd gotten information concerning the Writ of Abeyance before she'd helped him escape from the dungeons. There had to be another reason as to why Dark Lord Aelvedaar was involved...

Much as she'd like to believe this concerned a rescue of sorts, she truly couldn't say. All she knew was that the Dark Lord Aelvedaar had commanded the entire populace to be on the lookout for him, and that someone was coming to retrieve him.

She looked up at him quickly.

"I- I don't know who it is who is coming for you," she began, even as a plan began forming in her mind as to how she might ferret out this information. Still keeping mum about her mysterious benefactor, she continued:

"I only know that the Dark Lord Aelvedaar has commanded it, and that when Dark Lords speak, nations bow and obey."

She reached for him, touched his arm with light fingers.

"Perhaps it is a rescue. I can find out... at least I think I can."