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Afann
The lost city of Damash...
The decrepit city lay in ruins. A testament to it's past, but also it's present. Buildings and streets stripped of everything that they had once been by wars fought long ago. Damash was a shell. It's corridors felt empty and hollow, as if the inhabitants who had once dwelled within it's homes still could be heard, whispering in the ears of travelers, telling them that the surrounding desert would offer more solace.
The tribals had not abandoned the city. Xanthier himself had insisted on hunkering down beneath it's crumbling walls. What remained of Damash was strong, hardened from many battles which it had weathered over the ages. Here in the ruins, perhaps they stood a fighting chance. A small band of nomadic warriors against the Imperial Legion.
The irony remained, that these would-be band of rebels themselves had allowed a man almost as cruel as their enemy- a darksider who was nothing more than a minuscule parasite which had incubated and festered within the grotesque body of the Empire for years until he forced his way through it's thick hide like an insignificant maggot crawling towards freedom. A man known to himself as Xanthier and to sympathizers of the Empire merely as a rabid dog whom should have put down long ago.
Tainted with darkness by those who held him captive, Xanthier sees only one truth, one purpose. The Sith remain an incurable disease. An infection which cannot be combated, only slowed. As inevitable as death. Yet he will forever continue to fight them because without conflict he is without purpose.
~~~~~
"Get up."
Growled Xanthier, feeling his covered fingers wrapping around the tribal's jaw to grab the shaken man by his neck. Instead of lifting upwards to bring the warrior to his height, Xanthier crouched lower, until his grey eyes were exactly at the same level as the warrior's before slamming the man's head against the cracked wall of the deserted dwelling which the phased warrior had slumped against. The faded brass helmet of the tribal clanked as it connected with the wall. This swift jarring movement was harsh, but hopefully it would be enough to bring the tribal back to full consciousness.
"We're moving behind the wall. Now."
Xanthier uttered the last word through clenched teeth, forcing the man's head to look towards the direction of a crack in a half crumbled wall not far away, rubble strewn about from were a small section of it had caved outward, leaving a crack just wide enough for a body to slip through. The tribe's understanding of Basic was poor at best, and he had grown tired of trying to break the language barrier. Hand signals and simple commands were the only reliable means to communicate with the tribals who called themselves the Kamasi.
Leaving the tribal to decide his own fate, Xanthier let go of his jaw and began rushing towards the gap in the wall himself. He had no time to unify the stragglers who had not yet made it back to the city. Even now, the distant roar of thrusters on Imperial drop ships could be heard coming from the direction opposite of the wall he ran towards.
Ducking through the crevasse in the wall, Xanthier took one last glance towards the dunes.
Several members of the tribe were still running across the sands on foot. Desperately trying to reach the wall in time, their sandal clad feet kicking up tiny puffs of dust in the wind as they descended towards the town as fast as their legs could carry them.
Xanthier knew it was too late. His grey eyes remained fixated on the top of the dune for a brief moment, almost glazing over as he watched the first of the pitch black dropships appear over the crest.
He had brought this upon himself, along with all those that followed him into the city. The Empire had the power, the means, to turn them all to ashes, to level the forgotten city with bombs. He had gambled with their lives in the hopes that the Empire would behave as he thought they would.
Concealed within a pouch affixed to his belt was a slender glowing cylinder, the size of a death stick. It's contents unknown, but the darksider was certain of one thing- the Imperials wanted it back, badly. Only three hours had passed since it had come into his possession. Three hours since he had looted it off the still warm corpse of a dead Imperial during a counter raid on a secluded Imperial base concealed within a canyon several clicks North.
The Empire's forces had materialized when their raiding party was nearly home. It was no secret that the remnants of the Kamash tribe had holed themselves up in the ruins for months, the Empire simply lacked the manpower to take the worthless city. It held no strategic position and neither did the planet. A barebones emplacement of troops and several research stations were all the Empire deemed Afann worthy of receiving. Subdue the local populace and secure subjects for required tests were the Empire's primary objectives on the surface.
This did not sit well with the tribes.
Since the arrival of the Empire several months back, the nomads have fought with more resistance than ever anticipated. With Xanthier to guide them, attacks have become vicious, increasing in frequency and Imperial casualties. The darksider's knowledge of how the Sith operate has rendered many viable strategic maneuvers useless by the tribe's ability to counter and retreat to familiar ground.
So why now, as the black haired man gazed across the dunes which stretched off towards the horizon, had the Imperials decided to send all the troops they could muster towards the town when they could easily have resorted to strafing runs? Xanthier hoped it was because of the object in his belt, because if it wasn't, he would be nothing more than a pile of smoking remains come dawn.
Never breaking off his gaze on the approaching dropships, Xanthier clenched his fist, slowly raising it above his head, and in one swift motion he brought his arm forward, two fingers pointed towards the ships. The signal to fire.
Chunks of the broken city flew through the air, launched by trebuchets concealed throughout Damash in horizontal streets which had been obscured from the Imperial's viewpoint. Pieces of stone, statues, and the remnants of pillars and arches hurtled towards the fleet of Imperial dropships.
OOC:
This is a thread for Sith, Imperials, and possibly an Indie or two, check it out in more detail here.
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