Private Bloody Hell

[Aaran Tafo]

Location: Gehinnom.​

In his many journeys throughout the Galaxy. Aaran had seen many a sight. Some wonderful, some terrifying, some beautiful, some horrible. During his stay in Gehinnom. He had decided that the worldship probably ranked up there among some of the worst places in the Galaxy. When comparing it to somewhere like Ziost, it was like comparing drowning to burning alive. The ancient Sith world was cold, suffocating, stepped in misery.

But the home of the Brotherhood was different. It was alive, angry and screaming. A constant deluge against his senses. Endless active suffering happening all around him. If not for his recent experience in Ziost, it may have overwhelmed him. But while the Sith had a certain level of focus when it came to their cruelty. The Brotherhood did not. It was wild and indiscriminate. Which gave him some relief. It gave him the chance to focus and steel his mind against what was happening around him.

After all the only time he was at risk of pain was when someone of note paid him attention. Any of the rest of the zealots were simply too weak willed. Finding themselves forgetting why they had entered the room or simply falling asleep as they attempted to work their craft on the captured Jedi.

Of course, most of them were later executed for their failures. But in situations like this, it was either Aaran or them. And his own stance on morality and the sanctity of life would not bother him for letting professional torturers die because they failed to work their craft on someone.

But now, as he was, strapped to an interrogation chair, the same as he was for several days now. He simply waited for the next bout. Mind drawing into itself. His body rendered numb from his mastery of his own form. Various nerve endings simply shutting off at his command. Reminding himself to get his grandmother a present of some kind for teaching him that trick. He simply waited, curious as to who would attend to him now.

Hopefully, it was someone of note. The information he was able to pluck from the mind of the few underlings was not as useful as he was hoping. So perhaps whoever came through the door next would let something slip.

Maestus Alina Tremiru

 

[Maestus]

Aaran Tafo had the gist of it. Dark, depressing, suffocating. Disorienting, unless you were accustomed to the world ship. The dungeon area was especially dark and gruesome. Meant to inspire fear and heighten the anticipation for when a prisoner is taken from their energy cell.

And may the Force have mercy on them if they find themselves taken to one of the chairs. All manner of hell can occur in one of those. The worst of it was the mental torture, especially from one skilled in such arts.

Boots entered. The footfalls echoing off the pipes and walls.

Hello Aaran. I trust the accomodations are to your liking?

She walked around his comfy chair, and took a place at his feet so she could speak to his face and not the back of his head. Plain black robes with red trim, and her lightsaber is gone. Unlike when they met on the field of battle, she was not radiating hate and rage and anger. She was more calm and controlled. The chaos simmered just below the surface, but her mental strength was strong enough to hold it in check. For now.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

When she entered, he could nearly be considered asleep. His muscles relaxed, breathing calm. Even his heartrate was at a slow, steady but powerful tempo. Befitting his life of extreme athleticism. As the presence of Maestus tickled at the edge of his senses. He kept up this charade for a while. Not moving until he was addressed.

Eyes cracking open, the brawnier young man stretched as much as he could while currently strapped to the chair. While he could barely feel anything due to shutting down most of his nervous system, the sensations that remained were enough to tell him that his muscles were starting to cramp up from their long bondage. Limbs straining against the straps, he was not attempting to break free or anything, simply flex muscles that desperately needed to be pushed.

"Hmmm. Well at least the company is more appealing now." He finally answered, his tone dry and sardonic. Head tilting to the side as a series of faint cracks and pops were heard as more stiff muscles were loosened. He had no illusions of escape right now. Nor did he intend to. There was still much more he could garner on the Brotherhood of the Maw during his time here. It was helpful they were such a talkative bunch. And unless he was dealing with one of the Dark Priests or their warlords. It was not a difficult feat to influence their minds.

It was not like they could cut him off from the Force during his stay here after all. Doing so would blind him to the suffering of those around him. He could not potentially break and fall to the Dark Side if the Force could not reach him at all. It was a dangerous balance needed to maximise the pain caused.

"I am curious though." He mused, leaning forward, from his position on the table he was staring down at the Acolyte. "Out of all the crazy dark side cults running around. Why join up with this one?" He quirked a brow. Curious as to her own reasoning for being here. "I mean, there's a million Dark Siders you can learn from. So why here specifically?"

Maestus
Alina Tremiru

 

[Maestus]

She studied him through narrowed eyes. Not in a suspicious, untrusting manner. Which isn't to say she trusted him, because she didn't. Honestly, she trusted no one. Not even her master. Trust meant accepting unidentified risks. Risks were an unknown, and as such, she hedged her bets against that.

The same reason we are all drawn to other people. The need for social company and acceptance. Is it not the same for Jedi?

She turned to the right, and began to inspect of a table full of God knows what kind of torture implements. Carefully looking each one over before she made a selection.

A....knife? Yes, a simple knife. Crude yet sharp. Crusted with the blood of prior victims.

She turned back to Aaran Tafo and stepped to his side.

I am very intrigued by you, Aaran. You have secrets, and I wish to learn them. Your outer clothing and the limited flesh seen tell me nothing. So I will dig deeper. She gave him a smile. Fake as the sun in the middle of a blizzard. Apologies.

Double checking his restraints, she gave his body a thorough pat down. No point in forgetting the basics. She was sure he was searched prior to arriving in his deluxe accomodations, but Jedi were tricksy. And not to be trusted. Anything she did find would be set aside for inspection.

Once that was done, she held the cold crusted blade up against his throat for a second. Her eyes focused on his for a moment. Then she lowered the blade to the top of his clothing, gripping the fabric in her free hand. With a deft motion, his upper garments were cut to his waist.

Perhaps, before I become too "in depth", you tell me how you weren't pierced through on my saber. I know you are a strong foe, perhaps too strong for me in a fair fight. She frowned at that thought. For now, at least. I do admit, You are more advanced than I. But our next meeting, I will not hesitate.

Upper garments now free of their mortal coil, she began feeling his clothing and torso. And to think, she didn't even buy him dinner before feeling him up. Terrible manners.

She went over every bit of cloth, inside and out. If that proved fruitless, she set about inspecting his chest, sides and belly. She was methodical and thorough in her inspection. All bruises, cuts and lumps were explored. Painfully, if at all possible.

Knowledge for knowledge. You should know nothing is free. You give me the information I seek, and i will answer your innane questions.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

He eyed the knife warily, not out of fear of pain or getting stabbed, but instead out of simply revulsion of the idea of something so dirty potentially jabbing him. How utterly unsanitary to leave those kinds of tools laying around in such poor condition. To him, such poor care for one's tools showed that Maesus held no pride in her work.

"Again, a million dark side cults around, and you pick the one with poor sanitation." He mused, seemingly unafraid of the blade inches from his skin. He was expecting the blade to be used on his skin, perhaps to test his previously demonstrated unnatural durability. He was not expecting the Warlord to start cutting away at his clothes. That certainly got more of a reaction out of him than the threat of torture.

For physical contact in anything outside of combat was something Aaran had always felt great discomfort with. Unless it was around those he trusted implicitly, he always shied away from casual touches in a social setting. Pain did little for him, but this was certainly something that wormed its way under his armour.

"Buy me dinner first." He muttered, trying to inject some bravado into himself. Twitching slightly under her inspection as he attemted squirm away from her fingers.

Her pat down however would reveal extraordinarily little, the Talisman that had protected his felsh was sent away moments before his capture. Using the intimate link with his blade Arete to bend time and space, depositing it safely back in Romi Jade's enclave to be picked up after his escape. A costly technique to use on short notice. But it was a necessary one. Letting others study the amulet and discern its secrets would be a disaster. The galaxy did not need an army of force wielding lunatics capable of shrugging off lightsabers.

"I'd be careful with that kind of talk about our next meeting being different." He warned, eyes narrowing slightly. "The galaxy won’t stand still around you. Who’s to say I won’t be stronger than last time we met?"

All Maestus would find is densely packed muscle. Befitting a lifestyle of extreme athleticism and constant channelling of the revitalising touch of the Light Side of the Force. No hard edges that might imply sub-dermal armour or cybernetics. Simply flesh.

Of course, he would answer her question. But in his own way. "Well, with how long the Force cults have been around. The plasma swords are a fairly recent invention." He stated, attempting to distract her from her touches that was causing him such distress. Hoping the tidbits of knowledge would be enough to distract her from apply any more unwanted contact with his bare skin. "The living Force in bodies came easier to manipulate for some. So many Force Warrior traditions developed techniques to make use of this. Rites, rituals, foci. All meant to better channel the Force through their bodies and fight at a superhuman level."

He had answered her question. At least in a roundabout way. Enough for her to draw her own conclusions to his abilities.

Now it was her turn. And the Jedi was curious as to if she'd be willing to uphold good faith and answer his own questions.

Maestus

 

[Maestus]

She was thorough in her exam. She didn't know what she was looking for. She just knew something helped him not get pierced by her saber. When she found nothing but flesh and bones, she scowled in disapproval.

She did, however, notice his reaction to skin contact. Quite intriguing. However, she was true to her word. For so long as it worked in her benefit.

This "cult" suits me. It is....symbiotic, in a matter of speaking. The Brotherhood serves my purposes in furthering my personal projects and aims. In return, I give my blood and sweat for their aims. Sanitation practices not withstanding. Which, could be improved upon, I agree.

She set the knife to one side, back on the table. Then observed Aaran Tafo objectively. Strong and in excellent health. Neither overly muscled nor too lean. He was a fine specimen. A specimen that required closer and more invasive inspection.

Turning back to the table o' fun, she found what she was hoping for. A syringe. As with the knife, it was crusted with the blood of prior "donors". She held it up, noted the crust. Glanced at Aaran, then made an effort to wipe as much crust off as possible.

I don't expect anything to stand still. Whether we meet again in battle or no. You helped me, Jedi. You showed me my shortcomings, areas to improve. Truth be told, you are my first real challenge. And for that, I thank you. I appreciate knowledge in whatever form it presents itself. Knowledge of areas that I must improve upon is highly sought after.

She held the syringe up so he could see. And placed her hand on his chest. She wanted to feel his heart rate. Gauge his comfort level. Something so simple as slight physical contact could reveal much. She wiggled the syringe.

Now, if you would be so kind.......Hold still. Just a little pinch, I promise.

Was she actually......Waiting for him to agree? WTF kind of Sith was he really dealing with here? Maestus was beginning to wonder herself. She scowled inwardly as she looked down at the captive Jedi.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

"....That's employment. Not symbiosis." His response was drier than Jakku as Maestus explained her reasoning. An exchange of service for payment. It was really as simple as that. A similar goal could be achieved with any other organisation. He forced himself to hold his tongue and stop himself from suggesting that she join up with Darth Voyance and her warlords. At least the Dark Saint encouraged the Sith to be their own bosses.

Watching her carefully, his eyes narrowed at the needle in her hands. The fact that she did not have it sterilised was simply abhorrent to him. While it was true that modern medicine would cure any diseases that cropped up in him from exposure to infected blood. The simple fact that she did not care spoke volumes about her discipline. He did not beat her because he was stronger. He beat her because he took what he did seriously. He did not treat her as a mountain to climb or an opponent to overcome. He did not make internal comparisons to their difference in power.

He simply acted.

As shown here. She lacked that same level of focus.

"So long as you remain in your current mindset. You'll never grow." He said, pointedly, shrugging while in the chair. "Growth requires introspection, self-awareness, reflection. Without those you'll just be another Sith." Somewhat biting, but he felt it to be true. She'd fall into the pitfall of every lesser Sith he'd seen. Grabbing mindlessly for power. Never actually stopping to learn the discipline needed to control it. Losing themselves to madness. Thinking that for some reason, she alone was strong enough to dominate all around her despite there being a hundred others just as strong as her with the same mindset.

As her hand was placed on his chest. She could feel the muscles tighten up. His heart rate spiking for the briefest of moments as fight or flight instincts kicked in, before discipline smoothed over such feelings.

"Pray tell, what do you need my blood for?" He asked, quirking a brow, but not resisting in any way. It was not like he was in any position to do so. He would still bide his time and wait for an opportunity to escape. But he knew that it was not the right time.

Not yet.

Maestus
Alina Tremiru

 

[Maestus]

You mistake my position within the Brotherhood. As well as my reasoning for remaining with them. I never desired symbiosis. I have no desire to become one with them. They are, ultimately, tools. And one does not aspire to oneness with a tool.

While she did not react outwardly, she did hear and consider his words. Whether or not she shared her thoughts, she had not yet decided upon. She did open her mouth to speak when he mentioned staying in the same mindset. Not growing.

She closed her mouth, and lowered the syringe.

Why do you assume I have not and will not change and grow? On the contrary, I observe and process everything. I learn more in silence than most who can't shut up. And, I am young for now. I have never professed to be an expert on any subject. So I am acutely aware I have much to learn.

She shrugged, lifting the syringe once more. She took his arm and pushed the sleeve up, exposing the tender flesh in the crook of his elbow. She took a hold of his bicep, a couple inches above the elbow. And she gripped hard, cutting off the blood flow. And also forcing the vein out so she could hit it easily.

Just a little pinch.

True to her word, she was a delicate as possible. And a marksman. Needle inserted, she quickly drew back the plunger, sucking out a large vial of his life juice. Looked around and found a scrap of clothe. Offered it to Aaran Tafo . She removed the vial from the syringe, pulling it into her robes.

Research. No worries, there won't be any Aaran the Jedi clones running amok. Not at my hand, anyways.

She pulled a non-torture chair over and settled into it. Regarded Aaran with a wary gaze.

I am collecting blood samples from as many Force users as I can. Analyzing the midichlorian count, as well as other markers to find similarities or abnormalities that show divided lines. Jedi or Sith, Male or Female, a predilection for one aspect of the Force over another.

She leaned back, at ease. And for a change, with a Jedi, anyways, she was being honest.