#Darth Clador (OC)

[swtorramblings]

Vaylin: Spirit of Vengeance - 2

Note that these things are generally self-contained and not exactly continuing stories, so I’m going to be a bit sloppy with them and not have links, but the tag should bring them up.

Brief gore.

She had explored this world for years, when she was allowed the time and the choice. It filled her with longing, to be able to touch, but she had squandered that in blood, and was content enough. And she had found a new purpose here, one more to her liking.

She walked through one of the great forests, through the traces of snow that clung to the ground, reaching up to the low branches. It was beautiful. It always had been, even back when her only view was a tiny photograph that they had never found. She smiled at the cleverness of that child. It was a small victory, amid so much misery, but she had decided she shouldn’t spend eternity dwelling on her pain. She had plenty of reminders of how much she had caused. Her attention drifted and she found herself far from the forest, on a snow covered peak. Out of old habit, she brushed herself off, and sat on a nearby rock, looking down on the small city below. She reached out with her senses, feeling the people milling about their homes, staying out of the cold as much as they could. She watched as speeders made their way down the gleaming roads, the great flying beasts that were used for long-distance travel flying overhead. Like in the forest, there was a light dusting of snow down in the city. Still, even at the beginnings of winter, there was green, given artificial light and heat to keep the plants growing. Probably a home of some noble or other, they seemed to like being able to see greenery all year round. Mostly, though, the leaves had turned to brown or were gone altogether. Everything had a season. There was a wrenching feeling, a sharp pain through where her heart would be. She sighed. She had received her next orders. For once, it was close. Again, she allowed herself to drift, allowed her “benefactors” to guide where she arrived. Soon, she was at a small farmhouse, further up toward one of the poles if the thicker snow was any indication. The side of the house had collapsed, and parts were on fire. She looked, and swiftly picked out the group of pirates that had apparently picked this isolated spot to make a base in. Remaining unseen, she explored, trying to determine what she was here to do. Shortly, she found the house’s former owners. Two men, a woman, three children. They were laying, cooling, in the snow. Even the youngest, a young boy, his eyes shut forever. So, her task clear, with no innocents to protect this time, she began her work. She did not have the power she had in life, she couldn’t simply call the entire group of villains to her and snap their necks or engulf them in lightning. The spirits that guided her and empowered her wouldn’t like that, anyway. They wanted their victims to suffer. She was happy to oblige. And she was technically invulnerable. It was only because nothing worse could happen to her, but it was still a benefit. The first of the invaders she came across was laughing. He had trapped someone in a room and was chuckling as he pulled a knife and stepped in. One of the family? It was a small, furred creature whimpering in the corner. The pirate licked his lips and took another step, holding out a hand to try to beckon the animal. Then it sensed her and began to bark wildly. She rolled her eyes. Animals tended to be afraid of her. This house’s small pet wasn’t an exception. “Where was all your barking when these fraggers turned up?” The bark turned to a low growl, and the fragger in question turned to her. His eyes widened, but he didn’t panic as she smiled at him. She was almost impressed as he swung his long knife through her. Courage wasn’t going to save him, if this was courage and not just another type of panic. She swooped down over him. Knowing that she had quite a bit of work to do, she wanted to conserve her strength, but suddenly she withdrew in delight. “Oh, you have grenades!” The last thing he ever heard with the clattering of the small metal pins hitting the floor. She carried the small animal to safety as the workshop exploded. Vaylin settled with the household pet nearby, hopefully far enough for it to be safe while she did what she was commanded to do, and what it was her pleasure to do. She returned to the farmhouse, searching for more prey. She’d expected them to be scattered, possibly even panicked. Some foe had come amongst them, invisibly, and caused considerable destruction already. And they appeared to be a rag-tag bunch, not disciplined troops. Instead, they were already acting in good order, searching for their enemy with efficiency, covering each other. And there was something else, something that felt familiar, something nagging at her about them. Oh. They weren’t speaking. Oh, no. She felt herself being grasped by a field of energy and dragged upward. On a nearby roof, a Sith Lord was waiting, using his Force powers to pin her in place. “So, spirit, you are responsible for this?” He had dark red skin, black tattoos, and small horns jutting out of his face. What were these called again? “Zabrak,” one of her handlers whispered in her mind. “Darth Clador” came another unasked for piece of information. She could do without the commentary, really. His name would most likely be irrelevant soon. “Most recent master of the Sith spirit binding rituals,” came a third, with a small sneer in its voice. Ah. Wonderful. He grew impatient. “You will answer me!” She sighed a bit. Or did her best impression of it, anyway. She’d never looked into how that worked. “Yes, it was me. I’m only sorry I didn’t get more of you.” He stepped back, pulling her along behind him. “Well, then, since you killed one of my troops, I suppose you will have to replace him. It is good that you seem to have some small power so my effort won’t be wasted.” Darth Clador pulled out a small knife, steeled himself for a moment, and slashed a part of his forearm, spilling blood on the ground between them. She watched with some interest. She’d heard of this. The Commander seemed to have some knowledge of it, in fact. What was her name? V’lerian, she remembered. Vaylin tried to go through some of little bits of information she’d picked up in her killer’s mind. A memory floated by as the blood burned away. Too late, she saw what was about to happen. Too late, that is, for this upstart Sith. She was pulled into his body and mind. He had done similar to a few other spirits, cautiously, waiting until each was integrated into himself well. He knew what would happen if he acquired too much power too quickly. She almost warned him, but it was too late, anyway, and really, why should she care? She was here to make sure he died painfully, after all. Her power filled him to overflowing. His eyes glowed with purple light, then burst from their sockets. His flesh began to dry, expand, crack. Before the end, realizing his mistake, he asked, almost screaming, “Who are you?” She had meant to mock, but instead was almost gentle as she answered, “Vaylin, former Eternal Empress.” Was that horror in his face? It really should be. With that, he screamed, and finally fell face first to the roof. She’d almost expected him to explode. That would have been fun. And she didn’t even have hair to clean him out of. Oh, well. She took some care with the pirates after that. Some of them had been controlled, weak-minded but largely innocent, as innocent as anyone in this galaxy ever got. She ultimately let them go. Some of the others, though, were willing participants, monsters in their own right even without being attuned to the Force. She found numerous creative ways to end their lives. Finally, her work done, she settled onto a nearby hill and watched the aftermath. The people from whatever community existed nearby eventually reached the farm, found the dead, drew conclusions. The pirates murdered the family, then horrible things had happened. They rounded up the survivors, but weren’t sure what to do with them, since they didn’t seem to remember much. A gentle push here and there to give them a chance was all that was needed. She stood, and turned to leave, and there was the small creature, the household pet, wagging its fluffy tail. She let out another breathless sigh, and asked, “Fine, do you have a name?”