There was very little conversation amongst the crew as they neared the port town and began to see just what had happened. If anyone spoke, it was merely to give an instruction, as all joy and camaraderie felt suddenly cold and lifeless. Empty. The whole time, Berlin's stomach was twisting. He knew there was something up with that ship, something that gave both him and guessed Rohaan an uncomfortable feeling deep down. He knew there was a reason his gut was telling him not to just let the matter go. The ship pulled up onto the beach with the soft scrape of sand giving way beneath the dark wood hull. The rocking that Uban felt so accustomed to stopped, and somehow he felt robbed of physical sensation. Uban made sure he had his pistol and dagger with him, though he didn't see much point in drawing either just yet. Pieter was right. They were too late. The damage had been done and anyone still left in the little town would now be trying to pick up the pieces of their shattered life. He noticed, too, that Rohaan clung uncharacteristically to his side. Normally Berlin had to reel in the boy, keeping him from wandering off too far when they went ashore. But Rohaan stayed directly behind him, even coming close to stepping on his heels with his bare feet as they walked slowly, numbly onshore. "Shit..." he breathed, taking in the desolation in disbelief. Berlin was also swallowed up by feelings of shock and confusion, but even then he didn't fail to notice how Rohaan clung next to Uban. If Berlin thought he was tense before, he was near rigid now. Distantly, Berlin wondered if Vokurians had senses that humans did not--sort of in the way that wild animals will flee before a natural disaster strikes. He wanted to ask someone what had happened there, but there was nobody. Bodies, for sure. But no living souls--not even a wailing widow--lingered in that place. Were they all dead? Hiding? Had they fled? As the crew slowly began to fan out, Rohaan suddenly stopped dead in his tracks even as Uban moved on. He stood frozen, staring at something Berlin could not pinpoint. From the look on his face, something was very, very wrong. Very softly he took a few steps closer to him and asked, "Rheoaan..?" --- [I]"Rheoaan! I said go!" "But...Ada! Ama!" Even as he spoke, the eight-year-old boy reached his hands out for his parents, but neither reached back for him. "Rheoaan, my boy, listen to me. You have to go." There was a violent, anguished scream just down the beach; his mother grabbed his little wrists and gave him a firm but gentle push away towards the sea. "GO!" "NO!" Rohaan screamed, tears streaking down his face now. "I won't leave you! I can help, I can fight!" Another cajoling push, his father this time. "Rheoaan, I know, you're so strong, so brave, but you have to GO. Trust us. We'll find you when it's over but you have to GO NOW." "Ithai'an, they're coming!" His mother cried, causing her husband to tear himself away from his son to sprint down the beach, shifting to a huge cyradan as he did so. Rohaan's feet were frozen, legs unwilling. He saw his father collide with a mob of torch-bearing outsiders. Four died in a spray of blood and their screams mingled with Ithai'an's thunderous roar like an orchestra of gore. But more were there to replace them. Some had odd looking sticks; they pointed them at his huge reptilian form and, with what sounded like a crack of thunder and a puff of blue smoke, the strange weapons seemed to strike his father without even touching them. Silvery blood sprayed, but he held his form. Six intruders went up in flames. "Ama..." Rohaan's voice quivered now, racked with terrified sobs. "Rheoaan, you can't fight them. Not them. Go, child." She hastily kissed his forehead, then turned and, in the form of a massive black wolf, bounded down the beach to the front line of the bloody battle before them. Rohaan was left alone, shaking. He knew he was supposed to run, but his legs wouldn't work. Not when he was watching his father, covered in blood, slowly succumb to his accumulating wounds. He saw him fall, his man-shaped body lying in the wet red sand. Still. Lifeless. Dead. Rohaan ran then. He had no idea where he was going except the vague notion that he should reach the water and dive deep where they wouldn't find him. Right. He had to get under water. He veered left, plunging himself into the small waves. He just had to get deep enough that he could swim, turn into some kind of fish and he'd be alright. He'd be-- A tight net came over him that weighted him down and in his panic, he struggled against it and only got more tangled. Seconds later, viselike hands were on him, and there was an explosion of pain in his head. Then darkness.[/I] --- The little town was quiet, but in that moment, Rohaan could still hear the screams. He remembered the ship that carried him away, being starved and given only enough water to keep him barely alive. He remembered being packed in the hold with other children. Children he knew and grew up with. Some of them had been bound with [I]Khitas've[/I]--shifter steel, some called it. He remembered being beaten until his vision went black. Remembered the stench of sewage and the smell of blood, the reek of death. He'd tried so hard to forget. And in that moment, as he stared at a crude, tattered flag staked into a half-burnt body, it all came slamming back to him. Berlin took a step closer. "Rheoaan...?" He was not prepared for what happened next. The boy turned on him, shifting to a great bear as he did so, and aimed one mighty swipe of his huge claw at Berlin. The captain attempted to step back, but he wasn't fast enough and the claws raked the right side of his chest. The wound bled, but it was still only superficial and he seemed surprised by it but not concerned about the wound itself. His focus was on the bear. Displaying teeth and rearing back on his hind legs, it looked like the feral boy had finally just snapped. Still, Berlin moved closer, hands outstretched like a festival lion tamer. "Rheoaan, hey," he said, his voice even and cool. "It's me. It's Berlin. It's alright." Another step. Another. If he could just put his hand on him... "It's just me. You know me, you know I'd never hurt you. Kay?" Another step, then he slowly, carefully, reached out his hand and poured into him feelings of calm and trust. The moment he did, Rohaan's conjured form broke and he was himself again. Only now he was sobbing. Berlin had been through a lot with the young shifter, but in the two years he'd been under his care, Berlin had never once seen him cry. No one had. As Rohaan buried his face into Berlin's bloodied chest, trembling and sobbing, Berlin's face was a mask of equal parts pain and lost bewilderment. In Vokurian, the boy began to wail, "[I]It was them! It was them! And now they've come for me, they've come for me, they're gonna take me. They've come for me![/I]" "Listen to me, Rheoaan," Berlin began, his tone strong but also soothing. "Ain't nobody gonna take you from us. You're a part of the Borealis and her crew protects their own. You're not going anywhere." "I cut you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it! I just thought--" "I know you didn't mean to. It's just a scratch." Berlin's magic forced the boy to take a few deep breaths. He wanted to ask what in blazes had caused him to break down, and who 'they' were, and was about to, when suddenly it clicked as he saw the flag fluttering somberly beside them. Barizian slavers. Barizian slavers had sacked the town, and Barizian slavers were responsible for the destruction of Rohaan's home. He couldn't believe he didn't see it sooner. It made so much sense. Berlin's gut wrenched. They had not come for Rohaan at all, nor would they care. But in the boy's mind, they were still looking for their escaped prize. "They're gone, Rheoaan. And you're with me now. They're not going to have you. No way in hell." Berlin hoisted the boy up (as there was absolutely no force in the world that would make Rohaan let go of him) and walked back to where the rest of the crew was standing, watching. "Barizian slavers," he explained. "It would seem...this is not the first time Rheoaan's seen them do this to a place..." He sighed. "He recognized the flag." A flash of stony anger crossed his visage; a barely concealed volcano of rage boiled up and finally came to a head. His voice was cold, even, measured, and somehow that made him all the more intimidating. "I think we have a ship to catch, mates."