The Razing of Rokrul Village

[Vega Van-Derveld]

Continued on from 'Yours...for a bargain price! (http://sw-fans.net/forum/showpost.php?p=204742&postcount=41)'

White everywhere.
Never ending sea's of white, spotted with red.
The spots quickly bled into rivers. Rivers of blood. Blood and snow.

Against the vast landscape of snow, the ship was an unsightly blotch, a black stain on pristine white. As the craft landed, it's engines expelled hot gas that caused the snow beneath them to melt almost instantly, forming soggy pools in the frosty dunes. Snow fell onto the hull, the flakes hissing and vanishing as they landed on the hot metal. Slowly, the innards of the vessel whirred to a halt. From the cockpit of the ship, a pale face looked out on the desolate landscape. He wore a smile far colder than the arctic scene he surveyed.

“We're here.”

[Sibylle]

Her eyes snapped open, but Sibylle was sure that she was still dreaming. She wasn't quite certain were the dream had ended and reality had begun. She still saw snow, but the blood was gone. A premonition? She wasn't sure. It had felt like the past. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and sat up, cracking the stiffness from her neck.

"I think I may have seen this in a dream, although I'm sure I've never been here. In my dream there was blood staining the snow.. A lot of it."

[Vega Van-Derveld]

The smile Vega wore grew into a grin full of sharpened teeth.

“Get ready... dress for the cold,” he ordered. “I'll be waiting outside.”

[Sibylle]

Sibylle briefly returned to the room designated for her use. She found the required garments for trekking about in the snow, a heavy furred coat, a pair of sturdy boots and a pair of gloves. Not desiring to displease her Master by keeping him waiting, she descended the ramp while still tugging on the gloves, which were far too big for her. She walked up to stand beside him, her booted feet crunching into the snow.

She didn't see anything of note. The place seemed rather desolate, but she was not going to mention that fact to her Master. He was extremely intolerant of her questioning - unless her questions were prompted by him. He was an enigma but one that she felt certain she could figure out how to work with, if never solve.

[Vega Van-Derveld]

Vega had not changed. He wore the same dark overcoat as always, yet did not appear to notice the effects of the cold. He had grown sturdy and well-accustomed to sub-zero temperatures, thanks to his time on Hoth, and actually favored them over warmer climes.

“That way,” he said, indicating a large ridge some distance ahead on the mesa. The village was just beyond the hill, protected from easterly winds by the snowy rock face. Vega set off at a brisk pace. “Does any of this look familiar?” he asked, as they waded through the drifts.

[Sibylle]

Sibylle was clearly struggling to keep up with him. She was not used to such temperatures. She'd seen snow as a child, before her time with the Mahutari. But that had been years ago and she was more acclamated to humid jungles and steamy heat now. Even with the gloves on, her hands were freezing, she had them tucked under her arms, hugging herself to still her shaking. She had her face turned down, trying to keep the stinging wind out of her eyes. Her teeth chattered as she answered, dutifully trudging on with no complaint.

"I.. I don't th..th..think so. In my dream there was nuh.. no village. It was more of.. a city built into an icy rock face. There were great machines strewn about.. and bodies." She kept walking, hoping that the fast pace he was setting would keep her limbs from freezing solid.

[Vega Van-Derveld]

Though the description she gave did not match the landscape spread before them, it struck a chord with Vega. The corners of his lips twitched into a hint of a smile, as he wondered whether her increasing exposure to him was causing her to gain vision into his past as well as the future.

Ahead there was movement. Vega could discern the shapes of people, the ursine natives loping across the snow fields. “Just what we're looking for...” His pace quickened as he followed the dark forms.

[Sibylle]

She was not going to presume to understand what he was talking about. She simply took note of the figures ahead of them, then lowered her face once more and continued trudging on through the snow. No doubt he had a plan for keeping them alive, although she wasn't entirely certain what he wanted with the people ahead of them.. yet.

[Vega Van-Derveld]

Perhaps they heard the crunch of footsteps in the snow, tasted the scent of <i>others</i> in the air, or saw the pair of humans moving towards them. Whatever the case, the Nelvaanians froze fast. There breath made clouds and steam rose from their bodies as the chill wind, ruffling through their fur, met with their exposed skin. They eyed the advancing forms as statues. Nelvaan was a planet apart from the universe at large. It had, however, been touched by <i>others</i> on more than one occasion, to the societies detriment, and thus did not long for another encounter with such strangers.

“Hail,” Vega called. He did not expect that they understood Basic, but naively supposed that a gesture signifying 'surrender' would transcend the language barrier. The brutes, as he thought them, did not seem to understand and if anything looked a little alarmed. Van-Derveld spread his hands apart further, as if to show that he was not armed.

“We must speak with your leader,” he continued, in spite of the icy reception. His eyes turned for a moment to Sibylle, who had advanced a little ahead of him, clearly curious of the unusual creatures. An idea struck him and he seized it instantly, giving her a hard shove between the shoulders. She fell forwards, kneeling before the Nelvaanians in the snow.

“A gift for your and the head of your tribe. Do with her as you wish.”

[Sibylle]

She had been thinking that the creatures before them were somehow, pleasing to look upon. Sibylle admired the way they carried themselves and was staring into the dark eyes of one of them when her Master suddenly broke the spell of her wandering mind by pitching her forward onto her hands and knees in the snow and announcing his plans. His words rang as a death knell in her ears. She couldn't survive this planet, she was sure. Her body was already freezing to a point of lethargy.

Her first instinct was panic. Had he not just promised her if she pleased him and gave him no trouble that in time she would be awarded with privledge? He had even hinted at power for her. Had they been nothing more than pretty words to coax her off the ship? Her gloved fingers squeezed handfuls of brittle snow. She forced herself to remain still.

Her Master was unknowable to her. Her instinct to turn and beg for her life could be the very thing that earned his displeasure. He would not give her away. He hadn't gone to the lengths he had in, acquiring her, just to leave her at the mercy of.. whatever these things were.

Which could only mean that he had some sort of plan in mind. She remained as she was, on her knees in the snow, head bowed and just waited. If he truly wished to be rid of her already, she had little choice. She was after all, a possesion to be tossed away if she was found lacking.

[Vega Van-Derveld]

The beasts carried hunting spears. One of them lent forwards and gave Sibylle a testing prod with the blunt end of the staff. The other snorted, seeing how the woman quivered. Glances were exchanged and it seemed as if some unspoken communication passed between the pair, deciding the womans fate. The taller of the two natives gestured his spear upwards, signaling that the offering should stand. Vega smiled thinly and followed as they began to walk.

“The bastards don't understand Basic,” Van-Derveld laughed, as he walked in the footsteps of the Nelvaanians, to whose ears his words sounded like little more than a jumble of sounds. “You can always count on the greed of men, however. Offer them something valuable or pretty and all barriers melt away.”

[Sibylle]

Sibylle climbed to her feet, albeit a bit shaken. This new twist of fate, being a possesion of this man was nothing if not eventful. She hadn't been injured being prodded by the dull end of the spear, she was however still uncertain what was going on. She didn't reply to her Master. She was just going to stay with her earlier assessment that he had a plan. She could only hope that it included her. More specifically that it included leaving here, with her.

She was not deluded enough to think he was paying her a compliment. Sibylle got the impression that her Master wasn't an admirer of pretty things. He seemed to prize obidience and loyalty more, if that much could be learned from the few bits of conversation they had shared. Instead of commenting, she kept her eyes trained on her feet, willing them to keep going - one in front of the other. The extreme cold was causing a lethargy to steal over her body and she didn't have any doubt that if she couldn't hold her own and keep pace she would be left behind to freeze to death in the snow.

[Vega Van-Derveld]

As they walked, Vega listened to the beasts speaking in a guttural slurring tongue. His face twisted somewhat. One of the Nelvaanians snorted and looked over its shoulder towards Vega. “Frelling animals... dumb as bantha dren. The sooner the Empire wipes out these primitives, the better.”

If there was one tenet of the Imperial regime that Van-Derveld had always agreed with, it was the superiority of the Human over the rest of the galaxy. Near Humans he could abide, and pity to a degree – but alien species were little more than genetic freaks, plagues to be crushed under the xenophobic wheels of the Imperial war machine.

They reached the village within a short while. Vega watched as Sibylle shuffled forwards. She looked as if she might collapse at any moment, shattering on impact with the ice. She was weak, but she would learn. As they entered the village, other members of the tribe came into view. There were other warrior-scout types, and their revolting women cradling young cubs in their arms. The village was made up of many tents, all created from animal skins, held up by wood and stone. There was a large fire at the middle of it all, which people wandered by now and then, tossing kindling onto.

“And people say that we're wrong to interfere in the cultures of others... they should be thankful to us, for lifting them out of the gutter.”

[Sibylle]

Sibylle was still listening to her Master words, but unable to stop her determined shuffle. Her body seemed lured towards the heat of the fire, much like the doomed insects that had buzzed about the lit jungle torches. She pitched forward, crawling as close as she dared to the flames, alternately hugging her body and extending her gloved hands to the blaze. She wasn't sure she even would have commented to her Master, but as it was, her teeth were chattering together so hard she couldn't have spoken anyway.

Rocking back onto her heels, she braced her hands on the ground and turned her attention back to her Master. She thought it best to keep her silence, as it was she was still shaking like a falling leaf and uncertain what was going on..

[Vega Van-Derveld]

One of the females - if they could be called that, Vega thought to himself – stepped forwards and in a bizarre show of compassion draped a thick hide of some kind over Sibylle's shoulders. Her animal eyes searched the slave girls face with a kind of feline curiosity, baffled by the hairless thing stood before her, naked as a newly born cub. The whole interaction was offered only a fleeting glance by Van-Derveld, who instead seemed preoccupied with trying to find something, his gaze darting here and there. “Where is your leader?” he demanded.

Though the natives did not understand his words, his very presence was enough to warrant the attention of the tribal head. He appeared from one of the huts, shuffling forwards with the aid of a cane that looked as if it had been whittled by hand. His fur was gray at the whiskers and patched pale across his neck and shoulders, as if someone had splashed white-wash over his head. Two of the scouts moved to help him walk, but the old man - beast - seemed insistent on coping without them.

“Tell me again about your dream,” Vega said, with a growing smile, as the shaman came cautiously forwards to inspect Sibylle.

[Sibylle]

Her arms were aching with a horrible pins and needles sensation as her blood began to warm, by measures, and feeling was restored. She hadn't expected kindness from these creatures, but they seemed quite civilized for beasts that walked upright. She pulled the warmth of the fur tight around her small shoulders and listened to her Master. Her dream. Sibylle thought back to when she had first awakened and the vision was fresh. She closed her eyes and returned to that place, frozen in the snow..



She opened her eyes and found herself staring up at a smashed-in blast door of an enormous size. It looked as though something had hit it with force enough to crush it inward, and char black the side of an otherwise white wall. It seemed eerily quiet and disturbing, even for a recalled dream. She stepped forward, sliding through a gap in the destroyed door.

The interior was no warmer than the exterior, but the bite of the freezing wind was at least subdued. She moved forward and the closer she came to the heart of the room, the stronger her sense of foreboding grew. Something bad was going to happen. She was in danger.

Someone was going to get her.

Terror filled her, nearly cutting off her breath. She bent and picked up a curved piece of metal shrapnel and ducked behind the tumbled support arm of a machine. She held her breath, for fear that the small puffs of her exhaled breath would give her away. She could hear the crunch of foot steps coming nearer and knew that if she was found she would die. Her rigid fingers curled more tightly around her weapon and she prepared to swing..




The animal grunt of the gnarled shaman startled her out of her recollection of her dream. She was grateful. She didn't want to know what had happened there, in that horrible place. She didn't want to find out, if she had stayed if she would have died, or.. what would have happened. When Sibylle finally did speak she wasn't shivering anymore. Instead she sounded suddenly calm and collected as if the matter were perfectly conversational. Although, she still had her face tilted down toward the fire and half covered.

"It was horrible. Like being trapped in a cave of ice, everywhere I turned I felt threatened. It was as if the shadows contained enemies that were after me and I couldn't tell if they were real or imagined. I think something very wicked happened in that place.."

[Vega Van-Derveld]

“Indeed...”

Her words rang with familiarity. In his mind, Vega saw the hollow of an ice cavern, with shadowed figures squatting in its every corner. Their eyes were wide and their gaze was penetrating; they were all watching something... watching him. Slowly, he nodded to Sibylle, watching her as the shaman inspected her body. The cold made her skin prickle with goose-flesh as the creature drew away some of the fur covering her body, sniffing tentatively at it. Vega's nostrils flared at the sight. He stepped forwards and seized the old beasts wrist, fixing the shaman's eyes with a pale glare.

“Do you want to know why we're here?” he asked, though the question was not directed at the Nelvaan but rather at Sibylle.

[Sibylle]

She turned away from the fire, directing her attention on her Master and the aged Shaman he held in his grip. She regarded him without betraying any sort of emotion at all, as if she were acustomed to such sights everyday.

"I could not presume to know your thoughts, Master. You have business here with these creatures?"

Sibylle tried to hazzard a a guess. She couldn't see her Master involved with such primative beasts after his eariler comments though. It did not make sense to her.

Perhaps this place was linked somehow to her vision?

[Vega Van-Derveld]

“Business,” Vega spat, as if the word was bitter to taste. With a sudden, sharp motion he threw the Nelvaan shaman to the ground. There was a collective roar from the villagers, but before anything could be done Van-Derveld had drawn something from a sheath at his side, something that caught the light of the campfire as it dug deep into the shaman's back, planted like a spear.

“Business... with these ignorant beasts? They're sub-human, animals!” As the words spilled out – more curses and vitriol – he tore the blade free of its mooring, dark blood pooling through the elder's robes and a trembling groan on his lips. The scouts surged forwards. Vega kicked the shaman to the ground and sprung forwards, teeth bared and eyes full of fire.

[Sibylle]

Time seemed to have frozen on Sibylle.

Frozen.. as had everything else in these creatures frosted wasteland. In the span of a few seconds, she had gone from becoming almost comfortable beside the fire's primal glow, to mute with shock and awe. Although she herself was as still as the landscape, those around her moved with feral intent. She had not truly been afraid of her Master until that moment, and now.. she was terrified.

He was upon them like a crazed animal. One that was aged, battered by madness and desperation. One that needed to be put down before it destroyed life. But where would that leave her? Was she safer in the hands of a madman, or at the mercy of these creatures he'd now attacked?

Fear pounded through her veins, cold and sickening, when only moments ago she'd been warm. She had to move.. She had to get out of here! Frantic, Sibylle began to crawl forward, low to the ground, head down, not knowing where she was going. Her hand slid out from beneath her. Something hot and wet and slick that sent her forward, falling onto her arm. She looked at her hand, it was smeared red.

Blood.

Her thoughts of flight evaporated as growls and savagery continued all around her. She held her hand up in front of her face, mesmerized by the sight. It drippped over her pale skin, running over her wrist. It was a lot of blood. The dying shaman was right before her, his life pouring out across the snow, pooling around her.. She began to breath heavy. Her breath showing in the frigid air in short puffs, indicitave of hyperventilation. Her eyes rolled back in her head..

He had just set something loose.

[Vega Van-Derveld]

The hunting spears that the beasts so proudly brandished were of little use in close-combat. Though the stronger amongst them moved quickly, they were not quick enough. Van-Derveld was lithe and sinewy. He dodged each lunge and thrust, raking the blood-stained glaive through flesh with ease.

By a stroke of luck, one of the warriors managed to clamp two large paws on his shoulders, its claws digging deep into his flesh. Another, already wounded, tried to pounce – but was met with a boot to the face. Thrashing back and forth, Vega threw the Nelvaan over his shoulders and sent the creature tumbling into the camp fire.

Something rasping, that might have once been a snarl, came from Vega's pale lips as he plunged the blade again and again into the creatures prone, motionless body. Around him, the village was alight with panic but he saw none of it. All was red.

[Sibylle]

Rising up to her knees, Sibylle looked around as if she had no idea where she was. Her hair had blown into her face, half covering her eyes, which now had a wild crazed look about them.

What was this?! The fools had gone and left her unbound this time?

It seemed that she was no longer the fettered slave of the primatives that kept her locked in their jungle huts, using her sight to subjugate the other tribes. She had made good her escape! Now her life would be her own. An evil bit of laughter bubbled up from within her. She climbed to her feet, without fear walking straight through the middle of the fray.

Let them all kill each other. What did she care..?

Suddenly, strong furred arms grabbed her from behind, yanking her backward. One of the arms wrapped around the front of her, keeping her shoulders back as she was turned to face the source of the disturbance. The beast that held her grunted to claim the attention of...

Oh yes, him...

[Vega Van-Derveld]

One of the brutes was still alive; Van-Derveld had heard it grunt. The now shapeless mass of flesh and fur was abandoned, as Vega turned the vicious point of the glaive towards his next target. The pure malice that had patterned across his features had been replaced now by a maniacal grin.

“Come on, then! What are you waiting for?” he barked. Though the challenge was to the Nelvaan warrior, Vega's dead eyes were locked firmly on Sibylle.

[Sibylle]

The insane grin on the man before her appealed to her own very unbalanced mind. She was not held back any longer. She was set free and.. she would not be restrained. Her lips curved into a nefarious grin. Aqua eyes, flashing with their own barely restrained insanity registered understanding. This was why he had brought 'little Sibylle' here. To see just exactly what it was she was capable of on her own.

Very well.

Without further preamble, her little white teeth flashed in the firelight before sinking into the arm locked around her chest. Her intent was not to simply bite, causing pain. Oh no.. She had a desire to rend his flesh apart. Not biting deep into the tissue, just into the surface skin, she gnashed her teeth together hard, violently ripping away a chunk of the warriors furred skin.

The Nelvaan screamed, releasing her at once. It had not expected the female to offer any resistance or be capable of any violence. His mistake. She turned on him and spat his own flesh at him, blood and gore dipping from her chin, and she was still grinning like she had just done something amusing.

"We do not like to be held still......"

[Vega Van-Derveld]

The transition was nothing short of miraculous and Vega was enraptured by it. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, he saw himself in her. His dead flesh felt electrified by it, this strange kinship. It brought to life memories of his awakening on Hoth, when he had known his first taste of blood. The meek and mild was all but forgotten.

“Your chains are broken, Sibylle. Tell me, what would you do with your freedom?”

[Sibylle]

Her formerly graceful posture was slightly hunched now, she leaned over, looking up through the messy fall of her hair, walking forward slowly, like some primative beast. Her eyes remained locked on the man before her, wary yet also full of barely restrained interest. She swiped her arm across her lips, smearing the blood across her cheek and looking at it on her fingers for a second.

"We will serve the one who made this possible..." She nodded as if determining that it was a worthy cause, and not simply her lot in life.

"It wants something from Us, yes...?", she rasped..