This had been unbelievable. The events at Nancora had been so awful they had robbed him of restful sleep. The Brotherhood was in an odd state of flux as the full effects of Rath Oligard and the Collective were realized. The galaxy was already a harder place to deal with now. He feared for his wife, for his daughter, and his Clan. Then Sanguinius came to his office and asked him to volunteer to provide some additional training. What did Bentre have to pass onto the others that had not been learned through blood, sweat, tears and misery?

It was his lot as Proconsul. He realized that people expected him to be the leader, not the loner on the edge of the Clan. He kept putting up the face of being the good and friendly man- though far friendlier than good- and did the service due to his position. Yet he found himself in a very odd conundrum. The more knowledge he imparted to the others, the greater the chances they would find themselves in situations that would put them into mortal danger. Still, if he did not teach them, there was an increased chance they would be caught unaware, or be left incapable of liberating themselves from the cold embrace of death. To die was to be one with the Force, but for many like the Warhost of the Clan death remained the grandest mystery.

Ultimately, the philosophical questions did not matter. The Consul had made his desires no. Which meant that, for now, Bentre Stahoes acted as his left hand. It was to this end that he had directed the sizable crowd into the depths of the Sadowan temple. Humans and aliens, men and women, soldier and Clanmates- they had all come to the Sith for instruction. The hallway stretched before them, a large door awaiting them at it's far end. The Proconsul smiled to himself as he motioned for his retinue.

"Come on, everybody. We do not normally open these portions of the temple to outsiders, but it has become clear that you need instruction. I cannot guarantee that this will help, but I am going to teach you in the same way that I learned the basics among many skill sets. I hope this will be acceptable." There was feigned joviality in his voice. He could feel the confusion of several. It did not matter, really. Striding forward, Bentre pulled the large doors open. "This is one of our vaults. Normally I personally use this room to store the subjects of experiments." He stressed the last word with a small shrug.

"What?" A voice rose up over the crowd.

"Ah, there are all sorts of things that I like to do. I have been taking part in some studies on mystical arts, their effects on various biological subjects, or ways to create or imitate life. It is all just little things like that." Bentre waved his hand in the air as he strode through the now open doorway. "See, this room is a special vault secured against natural disasters, as well as any number of attacks you could likely imagine. In the past we sometimes kept artifacts in here. This will be your training area."

Stahoes walked over to the wall beside the door, punching keys in a flurry of muscle memory. Several loud clanks, hisses and the grinding of something mechanical in the walls echoed in the sizable room. Heads swiveled and eyes focused on the Battlelord's form as he turned back to face them again. "You see, the fun thing is this. I have to leave you all in this room while I take care of some things. We have lots of training to do today. I hope you will find your way out easily enough. In the corner you will find your tools." Bentre pointed at the far corner, which prompted several of the group to move toward it. The Sith could not keep the laugh from his voice as he spoke again. "Once I close this door the room will lock down. It is up to all of you to figure out a means of escape. Pressure brings out the best and worst in people, after all." As he spoke the last words, Bentre stepped backwards out of the room, pulling the door closed. The sound of locks engaging preceded several muffled cries.

Turning from the door, the man pulled out a commlink, shaking his head before activating it. "Well, the first part of the training has begun, Consul. I have some blaster training exercises and a few other fun things planned. Figured you might like to know. I will leave an order with one of the servants on duty to unlock the room in a few hours. They should have enough air, I think." He mulled over the question for a moment. "I might have to open the vents about halfway through. With any luck, a number of them should pass with flying colors."

As he clicked off the commlink, the Corellian considered the situation. He had been in a similar bind a few years ago. A risk of life and limb pushed people to some amazing highs or crushing lows. He had meant it, the part about with any luck. Experience was the best teacher, and by the gods he was going to give his assigned group all of it they could put up with. Or perhaps, he smiled to himself, a little more.