Savage Opress (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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deercountry2021-12-07 08:45 pm
opress) wrote in deercountry2021-12-07 08:45 pm
Entry tags:
Winter's quiet grip (Open)
Who: Savage Opress & You
What: Event catch-all
When: Month of December
Where: In Trench, everyone can hear you bleed
Content Warnings: Abuse, threatening a child, borderline slavery, electrocution, impalement.
A. Winter’s Mourning
i. Life lost – 5 years old
[Savage sniffled and wiped his nose on the back of his arm, his silver eyes fixed on the Nightbrother laid out on the woven matts that always smelled liked blood and death. He chewed on his lower lip and suddenly moved from sitting on his calves to pushing himself up onto his knees so he could peer into the older Nightbrother’s pale sweaty face.]
Bruté… come on, wake up. I don’t wanna sleep here…
[Bruté twitched, breath coming slow and wet. There was a strangely wet sucking sound from the Zabrak’s chest where all the cloth was wadded up and packed. There was something wrong with Brute’s orange skin as well; it wasn’t supposed to be so pale and clammy. Just as unusual, Bruté didn’t respond to his nudges and shaking.
Out of all of the Nightbrothers of his clan, Bruté was the one that made the most effort with him, even when he was crying. Despite it being against clan rules, Bruté would sleep close to the door where the kits were supposed to sleep so that Savage could crawl up the stairs and cuddle in with the older Zabrak. The kits kicked and rolled around and Savage was often kept to the outside of the group, but he found warm solid comfort nestled up to Bruté’s chest or back. Now he didn’t make a night without the journey to sleep next to Bruté.
It was his bedtime, and he was tired and cold from watching the older Zabrak wheeze out terribly slow breaths. He didn’t understand the sucking chest wound or the other injuries that came due to a Nightsister during the Selection Trials earlier in the day. He shook Bruté again, hoping to rouse the Nightbrother to go upstairs.
Instead, he gave up and nestled in right there, resting his chin on Bruté’s chest. He ignored the Nightbrother in the doorway keeping vigil; he didn’t like Furious much. He closed his eyes and dozed, shivering because there was no blanket and Bruté wasn’t putting off much, if any body heat.
He hissed when Furious grabbed him by the back of the neck then went still as he was picked up. Instinctively, his arms and legs curled into his body, but more alarming was the complete silence to the room. He squirmed, hissing again and Furious gave him a shake to quiet him lest he wake the kits in the next room.]
To bed, Savage.
Bruté…
He’s dead. [Furious growled deeply at him, causing him to twist to peer up at the Nightbrother. There was something in Furious tone that welcomed him to protest, to fight.] The Trials are no place for crying kits or weaklings. The Sisters won’t accept anything less.
[He peered through the darkness of the room to Bruté’s still body. The smell of blood and death – like the kills brought in for them to help skin and cut up so they could eat – finally registered.
Savage didn’t fight as Furious took him to the next room with the sleeping kits of the clan and deposited him in their piled ranks. He lifted his head to follow Furious’ movements out of the room, ears picking up the main door opening and several Nightbrothers entering. He picked at his lower lip with fingers as the Brother’s carried and dragged Brute’s body from the house.
He crawled to the door and peered after them, shrinking back when Furious came to stand blocking the way. He watched the older Nightbrother sink to a crouch in front of him, Furious’ glowing golden eyes pining him before a finger jabbed him in the shoulder.]
Bruté did a disservice coddling you. If he’s lucky, he’s with the Fanged God, and you… t’sh, it’s only a matter of time before you become a crybaby again. [Furious leaned in close, bearing sharp teeth where he could see them.] I will bite your throat out if I have to listen to months of crying. I don’t care which Sister you crawled your way out of.
[Furious left him there after that, and he shivered in the doorway. He didn’t understand death well other than that death meant they would eat. He picked at his lower lip again then crawled over to the spot where Bruté had died, curled up in the drying blood pool left there and waited until morning.]
ii. Life changed
[Savage stood in the courtyard and stared warily of his Master. They had been practicing deepening his connection to the Dark Side for the last hour, and his armour was still smoking from the last barrage of Force lightning that had assaulted him. His limbs gave faint shivers from the electricity that had washed over him and still bit at the air around him.
He had regained his feet and Darth Tyranus waited with a cool indifference as he gathered himself and eased his weight so that he was standing at ease.]
Again. [The lesson continued.
He concentrated on his connection to the Dark Side which felt seething with his anger and frustration, hampered by his discomfort of failure. He set a fist to his forehead, focusing on the feel of it as he gathered up the Force in as tight of a strangle hold as he could, wrangling it to do his will. He released a breath as he extended the hand from his forehead outwards so that he could feel the air around the massive stones but also beyond them, one of the transport ships. He’d show his Master. He’d would fail.
The rocks swayed, rumbling against each other and then all of them lifted from their pedestals and rose into the air. Beyond their direct training area, the transport carrier creaked on its landing gear and began to rise, wobbling in the air but also rising. He dug deep into his hatred, using it to harness the force.
Suddenly his Master was on the move, launching forward and drawing what he knew to be Tyranus’ lightsaber. The red blade lit into existence, coming straight for his face, and instinctively, he howled and lost part of his concentration. The stones slammed to their perches and the transport lurched and landed heavily, but more than that, his other hand swung up as if to deflect the red blade.
Like a bubble bursting, the Dark Side blew out from him, overwhelming his Master’s defenses and sending the old man flying backwards into the bushes. He blew out a breath between his teeth, belatedly taking a step forward as if to check on his Master.
Lightning arched out from the bushes to send him staggering, a yell of pain and surprise ripping from his lips as he collapsed and gripped his head. It was only a short burst this time. His teeth chattered from the electricity, and he slowly lifted his head to watch his Master approach.]
Why did I electrocute you, Savage?
Master…? [It was hard to get the word out.]
The first time was because you let your guard down. If you focus too much of the Force in one area, you are not keeping up your defenses and will be cut down. And the second time…
[Savage stared at his Master’s red eyes, and he set a hand to the ground to push himself to his feet to withdraw. The second burst was coming right… now. He went down gritting his teeth, shuddering and shaking as lightning rolled over him.]
The second was because you have no reason to show me any concern, but you have shown explosive uses of the Force more than once now. Good. [Tyranus stepped in front of him as he gathered himself to sit back into a crouch.] Gather your things, my Apprentice. I have an assignment for you.
iii. Life Gained - Future Never Seen
[Savage approached the Nightsister conclave with a seeming flagrant disregard for tradition, skirting old piles of destroyed droids that were long covered in red dirt. He moved with an tension that was more instinctual than accurate of the situation, and he dragged a dead young rancor behind him. Older and far more rugged looking, he walked without hurry to the gaping entrance of the seemingly empty conclave of the Nightsisters.
Suddenly there was a squeal of delight, then a second following suit. A six-year old pale Zabrak ran full tilt from the shadowy depths of the stone, her silver hair flying as she covered the distance. Her four-year-old sister followed suit, hopping up and down with skinny arms raised in a much slower approach. He didn’t break stride, but a snort of pride sounded from him.
The elder girl wrapped her arms around his left leg and hopped up to stand on his foot so he would take her back the way that she had come.] Sire! What did you bring back?
Sire! Sire! Sire! [The four-year-old chanted, still hopping until he was in range then followed her sister’s antics and latched onto his right leg. He came to a stop to allow her to find his foot before he slogged his way forward with his kill and his two kits.]
It’s just a rancor. We’ve eaten one before.
Was it a hard fought battle, sire? [The six-year-old was at the age of wanting to know combat details.]
Sire, Mother is in a bad mood.
Mother is always in a bad mood. [Savage rolled his eyes as he entered their home and he tossed the rancor to the side to deal with once he had managed to keep the kits from clinging to his legs. It was unconventional for any female Sisters to have anything to do with their sire, but these were unconventional times. The only other Nightsister clans were on the other side of the planet and the only Nightsister here hadn’t even been raised with tradition.
Ventress approached, sneering at him before basically tossing the squirming toddler into his arms brusquely. He took the kit without complaint before reaching out to catch the Nightsister’s arm. Then he dared to lean in and nip at her temple, adding a nudge of his nose. Only then did she soften very slightly, but she gave him a shove on the shoulder anyway.]
The girls are yours. I have a bounty to follow up on. It will take me a week, maybe more.
The ship is supplied, but you should take it for a tune up. The landing gear has been sticky. [He was distracted by the toddler grasping at his face, bubbling merrily and drooling. She was teething and usually cranky. At least the toddler had an excuse where Ventress was just… Ventress.]
Fine. Don’t kill the children.
[The kits at his legs were shoving each other and giggling.] You always have a higher chance of offing them than me.
[She smirked, basically agreeing. After all, she often left him to the rearing and went off world for bounty hunting, which was a system that worked.] Girls, be terrible for your sire.
Yes, Mother. [That was chanted and that was as close to an affectionate as any parting would get. Ventress walked off with not even a single look backwards.
Savage tipped his head to grasping fingers at his chin. Life after a near death experience was good.]
B. Run, Rabbit, Run
i. Hunted
[Hunting beasts was made far more difficult when one had to compete with a wide assortment of traps laid out. Even then, the forest itself seemed to try to grasp at him as he pushed through, and he ripped his way through more than a few bushes. Foliage and displaced snow dusted his armour, and he had used enough traps on Dathomir to avoid many of the man-made ones.
He was in the process of hunting down a beast that had been roaming the outskirts of town and headed into the forest. He was closing in on what looked like some kind of canine – didn’t people call them wolves here? – and even if he was keeping an eye out for traps, he still found his situation rapidly changing when the ground beneath his feet suddenly lurched and woven sticks buckled under his weight.
He dropped into the pit trap, snarling in pain as his leg became impaled on a spear of sharpened wood that had been placed inside. Green blood flowed and began aerosolizing immediately, not that it stopped him from hobbling on his good leg and recklessly ripping his leg off of the wood spear with a renewed snarl.
He had no medical supplies, but he was so tall that he could hobble over and grasp the edge of the pit trap and start to haul himself out of it, smearing his vileblood as he went.]
ii. Trapped
[Having began to sweep to kill any and all of the undead animals that seemed to find their way to him, Savage was working his way through the fringes of the woods as he headed back to town. He heard a crack of wood and something that sounded like rope on bark. A trap had been set off, and while he normally wouldn’t bother to concern himself with the matter, it was on his way.
He stopped as he found himself looking up at what looked like a net with something – or someone – inside of it.]
You can cut yourself down, right?
What: Event catch-all
When: Month of December
Where: In Trench, everyone can hear you bleed
Content Warnings: Abuse, threatening a child, borderline slavery, electrocution, impalement.
A. Winter’s Mourning
i. Life lost – 5 years old
[Savage sniffled and wiped his nose on the back of his arm, his silver eyes fixed on the Nightbrother laid out on the woven matts that always smelled liked blood and death. He chewed on his lower lip and suddenly moved from sitting on his calves to pushing himself up onto his knees so he could peer into the older Nightbrother’s pale sweaty face.]
Bruté… come on, wake up. I don’t wanna sleep here…
[Bruté twitched, breath coming slow and wet. There was a strangely wet sucking sound from the Zabrak’s chest where all the cloth was wadded up and packed. There was something wrong with Brute’s orange skin as well; it wasn’t supposed to be so pale and clammy. Just as unusual, Bruté didn’t respond to his nudges and shaking.
Out of all of the Nightbrothers of his clan, Bruté was the one that made the most effort with him, even when he was crying. Despite it being against clan rules, Bruté would sleep close to the door where the kits were supposed to sleep so that Savage could crawl up the stairs and cuddle in with the older Zabrak. The kits kicked and rolled around and Savage was often kept to the outside of the group, but he found warm solid comfort nestled up to Bruté’s chest or back. Now he didn’t make a night without the journey to sleep next to Bruté.
It was his bedtime, and he was tired and cold from watching the older Zabrak wheeze out terribly slow breaths. He didn’t understand the sucking chest wound or the other injuries that came due to a Nightsister during the Selection Trials earlier in the day. He shook Bruté again, hoping to rouse the Nightbrother to go upstairs.
Instead, he gave up and nestled in right there, resting his chin on Bruté’s chest. He ignored the Nightbrother in the doorway keeping vigil; he didn’t like Furious much. He closed his eyes and dozed, shivering because there was no blanket and Bruté wasn’t putting off much, if any body heat.
He hissed when Furious grabbed him by the back of the neck then went still as he was picked up. Instinctively, his arms and legs curled into his body, but more alarming was the complete silence to the room. He squirmed, hissing again and Furious gave him a shake to quiet him lest he wake the kits in the next room.]
To bed, Savage.
Bruté…
He’s dead. [Furious growled deeply at him, causing him to twist to peer up at the Nightbrother. There was something in Furious tone that welcomed him to protest, to fight.] The Trials are no place for crying kits or weaklings. The Sisters won’t accept anything less.
[He peered through the darkness of the room to Bruté’s still body. The smell of blood and death – like the kills brought in for them to help skin and cut up so they could eat – finally registered.
Savage didn’t fight as Furious took him to the next room with the sleeping kits of the clan and deposited him in their piled ranks. He lifted his head to follow Furious’ movements out of the room, ears picking up the main door opening and several Nightbrothers entering. He picked at his lower lip with fingers as the Brother’s carried and dragged Brute’s body from the house.
He crawled to the door and peered after them, shrinking back when Furious came to stand blocking the way. He watched the older Nightbrother sink to a crouch in front of him, Furious’ glowing golden eyes pining him before a finger jabbed him in the shoulder.]
Bruté did a disservice coddling you. If he’s lucky, he’s with the Fanged God, and you… t’sh, it’s only a matter of time before you become a crybaby again. [Furious leaned in close, bearing sharp teeth where he could see them.] I will bite your throat out if I have to listen to months of crying. I don’t care which Sister you crawled your way out of.
[Furious left him there after that, and he shivered in the doorway. He didn’t understand death well other than that death meant they would eat. He picked at his lower lip again then crawled over to the spot where Bruté had died, curled up in the drying blood pool left there and waited until morning.]
ii. Life changed
[Savage stood in the courtyard and stared warily of his Master. They had been practicing deepening his connection to the Dark Side for the last hour, and his armour was still smoking from the last barrage of Force lightning that had assaulted him. His limbs gave faint shivers from the electricity that had washed over him and still bit at the air around him.
He had regained his feet and Darth Tyranus waited with a cool indifference as he gathered himself and eased his weight so that he was standing at ease.]
Again. [The lesson continued.
He concentrated on his connection to the Dark Side which felt seething with his anger and frustration, hampered by his discomfort of failure. He set a fist to his forehead, focusing on the feel of it as he gathered up the Force in as tight of a strangle hold as he could, wrangling it to do his will. He released a breath as he extended the hand from his forehead outwards so that he could feel the air around the massive stones but also beyond them, one of the transport ships. He’d show his Master. He’d would fail.
The rocks swayed, rumbling against each other and then all of them lifted from their pedestals and rose into the air. Beyond their direct training area, the transport carrier creaked on its landing gear and began to rise, wobbling in the air but also rising. He dug deep into his hatred, using it to harness the force.
Suddenly his Master was on the move, launching forward and drawing what he knew to be Tyranus’ lightsaber. The red blade lit into existence, coming straight for his face, and instinctively, he howled and lost part of his concentration. The stones slammed to their perches and the transport lurched and landed heavily, but more than that, his other hand swung up as if to deflect the red blade.
Like a bubble bursting, the Dark Side blew out from him, overwhelming his Master’s defenses and sending the old man flying backwards into the bushes. He blew out a breath between his teeth, belatedly taking a step forward as if to check on his Master.
Lightning arched out from the bushes to send him staggering, a yell of pain and surprise ripping from his lips as he collapsed and gripped his head. It was only a short burst this time. His teeth chattered from the electricity, and he slowly lifted his head to watch his Master approach.]
Why did I electrocute you, Savage?
Master…? [It was hard to get the word out.]
The first time was because you let your guard down. If you focus too much of the Force in one area, you are not keeping up your defenses and will be cut down. And the second time…
[Savage stared at his Master’s red eyes, and he set a hand to the ground to push himself to his feet to withdraw. The second burst was coming right… now. He went down gritting his teeth, shuddering and shaking as lightning rolled over him.]
The second was because you have no reason to show me any concern, but you have shown explosive uses of the Force more than once now. Good. [Tyranus stepped in front of him as he gathered himself to sit back into a crouch.] Gather your things, my Apprentice. I have an assignment for you.
iii. Life Gained - Future Never Seen
[Savage approached the Nightsister conclave with a seeming flagrant disregard for tradition, skirting old piles of destroyed droids that were long covered in red dirt. He moved with an tension that was more instinctual than accurate of the situation, and he dragged a dead young rancor behind him. Older and far more rugged looking, he walked without hurry to the gaping entrance of the seemingly empty conclave of the Nightsisters.
Suddenly there was a squeal of delight, then a second following suit. A six-year old pale Zabrak ran full tilt from the shadowy depths of the stone, her silver hair flying as she covered the distance. Her four-year-old sister followed suit, hopping up and down with skinny arms raised in a much slower approach. He didn’t break stride, but a snort of pride sounded from him.
The elder girl wrapped her arms around his left leg and hopped up to stand on his foot so he would take her back the way that she had come.] Sire! What did you bring back?
Sire! Sire! Sire! [The four-year-old chanted, still hopping until he was in range then followed her sister’s antics and latched onto his right leg. He came to a stop to allow her to find his foot before he slogged his way forward with his kill and his two kits.]
It’s just a rancor. We’ve eaten one before.
Was it a hard fought battle, sire? [The six-year-old was at the age of wanting to know combat details.]
Sire, Mother is in a bad mood.
Mother is always in a bad mood. [Savage rolled his eyes as he entered their home and he tossed the rancor to the side to deal with once he had managed to keep the kits from clinging to his legs. It was unconventional for any female Sisters to have anything to do with their sire, but these were unconventional times. The only other Nightsister clans were on the other side of the planet and the only Nightsister here hadn’t even been raised with tradition.
Ventress approached, sneering at him before basically tossing the squirming toddler into his arms brusquely. He took the kit without complaint before reaching out to catch the Nightsister’s arm. Then he dared to lean in and nip at her temple, adding a nudge of his nose. Only then did she soften very slightly, but she gave him a shove on the shoulder anyway.]
The girls are yours. I have a bounty to follow up on. It will take me a week, maybe more.
The ship is supplied, but you should take it for a tune up. The landing gear has been sticky. [He was distracted by the toddler grasping at his face, bubbling merrily and drooling. She was teething and usually cranky. At least the toddler had an excuse where Ventress was just… Ventress.]
Fine. Don’t kill the children.
[The kits at his legs were shoving each other and giggling.] You always have a higher chance of offing them than me.
[She smirked, basically agreeing. After all, she often left him to the rearing and went off world for bounty hunting, which was a system that worked.] Girls, be terrible for your sire.
Yes, Mother. [That was chanted and that was as close to an affectionate as any parting would get. Ventress walked off with not even a single look backwards.
Savage tipped his head to grasping fingers at his chin. Life after a near death experience was good.]
B. Run, Rabbit, Run
i. Hunted
[Hunting beasts was made far more difficult when one had to compete with a wide assortment of traps laid out. Even then, the forest itself seemed to try to grasp at him as he pushed through, and he ripped his way through more than a few bushes. Foliage and displaced snow dusted his armour, and he had used enough traps on Dathomir to avoid many of the man-made ones.
He was in the process of hunting down a beast that had been roaming the outskirts of town and headed into the forest. He was closing in on what looked like some kind of canine – didn’t people call them wolves here? – and even if he was keeping an eye out for traps, he still found his situation rapidly changing when the ground beneath his feet suddenly lurched and woven sticks buckled under his weight.
He dropped into the pit trap, snarling in pain as his leg became impaled on a spear of sharpened wood that had been placed inside. Green blood flowed and began aerosolizing immediately, not that it stopped him from hobbling on his good leg and recklessly ripping his leg off of the wood spear with a renewed snarl.
He had no medical supplies, but he was so tall that he could hobble over and grasp the edge of the pit trap and start to haul himself out of it, smearing his vileblood as he went.]
ii. Trapped
[Having began to sweep to kill any and all of the undead animals that seemed to find their way to him, Savage was working his way through the fringes of the woods as he headed back to town. He heard a crack of wood and something that sounded like rope on bark. A trap had been set off, and while he normally wouldn’t bother to concern himself with the matter, it was on his way.
He stopped as he found himself looking up at what looked like a net with something – or someone – inside of it.]
You can cut yourself down, right?
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