Such a sight laid ahead for Ghaun and the rest of the slaves being hauled towards the Temple of Lloth, never before were there so many Houses visiting. Unlike the rest of the spineless band of enslaved women and men amongst him, Ghaun was no fool, his survival thus far was branched from his informant skills. His wits as sharp as the blades he once wielded, and common sense alone could tell that so many Houses weren’t gathering here for simple sacrifices to Lloth. Something much more was at stake here, with the Matron Mother greeting everyone as such and with the rush to heed the call, he found himself within the Temple. Of course he wasn’t alone, there were the low graded slaves as well; such useless cretins. Although, his opinion upon those brought here with him may not matter much for long, he doubted he’ll see the exit of this Temple, unless it was earned through spilling blood or escaping amidst a set of confusion.<br/><br/>But with the call of arms, the possibilities of escaping seemed to be almost nonexistent. There were just too many soldiers about, too many Houses present, and then there were the Matron Mother and her Priestess looking down at them all. Of course, he was sure she was more focused on the others than the ragtag flocked he arrived here with. His amethyst hued eyes flickering to intake all his surroundings, inscribing everything into the back of his mind which rival the workings of a jigsaw puzzle of a solution for this situation. Silence was his answer, listening closely to intake more information, soaking it all in like a sponge.<em>Attack</em>? Birth of a<em>demi-god?</em>The<em>destruction</em>of Menzoberranzan? Why, this wasn’t simple common information that was so freely given out. His attention swayed towards the other slaves, it was doubtful they would live this through, especially with their sudden attitude. Such a shame,  such a shame. It was wrong to begin with to bring those other peons into such sacred and unholy walls. They were only acting the fools with the proclamation of the end, not the best source of reaction to be taken here; especially given the lost of the Matron Mother's sister. It wouldn't surprise Ghaun if all the slaves that he was brought in with were to be executed before the night was over with in how they were acting. Of course, he needed to do something to avoid being one of them.<br/><br/>On the better end of events, they were befitting in the ruckus they created, it was something to give Ghaun another project to work on. The guards that had brought him and the rest here were quick in the task of quelling the noise, a smart choice, though the auctioneer responsible for them all would likely hear about the incident regardless. The small driven chaos was silenced as many of the rowdy and frightened slaves were thrown about, beaten, or otherwise abused. Ghaun too, even though not a patron in their acts, found himself caught in the mix, or maybe he aligned himself as a bystander, only those that watched closely would know the truth. One of the slaves clashed into him, and in turn he tumbled as well against one of the ruthless guards who brought him and his feeble gang here. No reaction, no response, nothing came from the harsh blow he received within that blind frenzy. Even as his body dropped to the ground, he had obtained something many of those slaves didn’t. The glimmer of silver was now concealed within the palm of his hand, the loop that held many of Ghaun’s ‘breathen’ freedom now had one less ticket.<br/><br/><strong>”Get them out of here!”</strong>One of the guards hollered, his voice a bit wavering, possibly from fear that his head would be had next. The slaves that still whined and moaned, having lost their hope and will were soon removed from the audience of the room. Freedom, it was so close now for Ghaun. He didn’t fight it one bit when one of the guard’s went to grab and pull into his long ivory locks of hair. Yes, give this audience a show a bit longer, play into the helpless role. They wouldn’t have any need for him and he could very much be on his way. Though his body may play the part, his eyes spoke of another story with that cold and shallow stare of his; practically glaring, even if such wasn’t intentional.  Menzoberranzan was their problem now, not his, he had other things to attend to.<strong>”Get up you lout!”</strong>The guard snapped as he finally forcefully pulled Ghaun to his feet. Even beaten and thrown around, the slave's posture didn't so easily waver as many others that were brought in with him had.<br/>