Another slight tip of the head, to show his understanding. Making sure that no one was headed in their direction, so Eli would be safe while he was away, he slipped into the shadows, and disappeared. There was silence for the longest of moments, before it was followed by the sounds of of a scuffle.
Altair did not consider himself particularly bloodthirsty, especially not compared to many Sith he knew. He liked avoiding fights and avoiding deaths where he could. He had grieved when Thanaton had died, despite the man having called for his death from the very beginning. Any situation that was not resolved peacefully, he usually regretted.
He had no such regrets here.
Their enemies had not been expecting him, small, fast, aided by the Force, moving into blind spots they didn't even know they had before they could really register that he'd moved. He wasn't underestimating them- Thrawn saw them as a threat. So he did too. He knew they were dangerous, and treated them accordingly.
One fled or... Tried to move out into a more narrow space to limit his movement, Altair wasn't sure-- out toward the hall, toward Eli. He did not get far, before he was yanked back by the Force, slammed down onto the floor hard enough to dent it, then viciously pulled back, followed by a snap. If it was the spine or the neck was difficult to say. Regardless, it was another dead Grysk, less lucky than the others that had merely been made short work of with his lightsaber pike. Altair gave a zap for good measure though.
Satisfied that there was no immediate danger around them any more, reaching out with his senses to make sure- feeling no alarm, no movement through the Force-, he switched his lightsaber off, and it withdrew into its shorter form. He still kept it in his hand, rather than returning it to its normal spot slung over his shoulder.
Heading over to Eli, he lifted his veil slightly to look him over- to make sure he was okay.
"You're alright? Not hurt, right?"
He knew. But he still asked. Fussed a little. He couldn't help it.
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Altair did not consider himself particularly bloodthirsty, especially not compared to many Sith he knew. He liked avoiding fights and avoiding deaths where he could. He had grieved when Thanaton had died, despite the man having called for his death from the very beginning. Any situation that was not resolved peacefully, he usually regretted.
He had no such regrets here.
Their enemies had not been expecting him, small, fast, aided by the Force, moving into blind spots they didn't even know they had before they could really register that he'd moved. He wasn't underestimating them- Thrawn saw them as a threat. So he did too. He knew they were dangerous, and treated them accordingly.
One fled or... Tried to move out into a more narrow space to limit his movement, Altair wasn't sure-- out toward the hall, toward Eli. He did not get far, before he was yanked back by the Force, slammed down onto the floor hard enough to dent it, then viciously pulled back, followed by a snap. If it was the spine or the neck was difficult to say. Regardless, it was another dead Grysk, less lucky than the others that had merely been made short work of with his lightsaber pike. Altair gave a zap for good measure though.
Satisfied that there was no immediate danger around them any more, reaching out with his senses to make sure- feeling no alarm, no movement through the Force-, he switched his lightsaber off, and it withdrew into its shorter form. He still kept it in his hand, rather than returning it to its normal spot slung over his shoulder.
Heading over to Eli, he lifted his veil slightly to look him over- to make sure he was okay.
"You're alright? Not hurt, right?"
He knew. But he still asked. Fussed a little. He couldn't help it.