Sin

[Damien Pierce]

At first, all he could hear were the explosions—a cacophony of deafening blasts that shook the earth and his very skeleton. Then came the screams, one after another, culminating in some unidentifiable roar that couldn't be forgotten. Half of them were fueled by adrenaline; fear, second doubts, and other concerns released as instinct and training took control. The other half were the ones that truly haunted him—the ones laden with agony, a pitch that pleaded for mercy in itself, the screams that could pierce through any metal like it was hot butter.

Damien was then crouched in a crater, his armor covered in blood, dirt, and soot. Fellow mandalorians surrounded him in small huddles that were tending to their weapons or wounds. The rest would be at the crest of the crater, firing whatever they had left to cover the retreat. Even though the battle raged on around him, all he could hear was his own heavy breathing, each exhale slow as he tried to regain his senses. His body ached; scorch marks from blasters littered his armor, some pieces even having been ripped or shot off. The garments he wore underneath bore multiple thin line cuts, blood leaking freely from the hidden lacerations and soaking the cloth a dark red.

Feeling his muscles strain, Damien just spun around and rested his back onto the empty slope of the crater, his gaze forced upward. The sky would be lit up like fireworks as ships and mandalorians flew through the air to clash. Balls of fire would constantly pop in and out between the night clouds like proud stars themselves, helping maintain the illusion of a lightshow. That was until reality came crashing down in the form of ships and charred bodies, eventually splattering on the field below.

As his senses began to finally return to him, he felt a hand grip his chest plate and lift him up from the dirt and out of the trance the chaos had put him in. Damien was forced to his feet as he turned his grime-covered visor to find Balrock. A krayt dragon was painted over the warrior's helmet, easily identifying him from the rest, but it was smeared into an ugly pulp of colors from the battle. "We need to get moving now!" Balrock shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice still barely able to be heard over the carnage that unfolded around them. But right as the two fully got to their feet, another artillery shot would hit the edge of the crater and knock them right back down. Damien would be propelled into one of the slopes, his head knocked back and striking the compact dirt as he blacked out almost immediately. The last thing he saw was a mound of dirt cascading down on him and the inferno above that wept fire as ships continued to fall.

 

[Damien Pierce]

When Damien's eyes fluttered open, he found his feet being dragged through a mixture of mud and blood. It took him a few seconds to remember how to operate his legs, his limbs eventually responding to his commands as one foot went after another with a wet splash. Half of his visor was covered in dirt and grime, barely allowing him to see but just enough that he could make do. Struggling to understand his surroundings, he glanced around his immediate vicinity, only able to take in anything within a few feet.

All that greeted him, however, was death and destruction. Smoke pillars littered the field, either from the burning wreckage of a ship or from the burning carcass of a mandalorian. The smell was disgusting—a mix of oil, blood, sweat, feces, and other bodily fluids—that nearly snapped him out of his concussive haze. When he glanced to his right, he found Balrock to his surprise, finally registering the arm that was around him for support and mainly keeping him up. Other mandalorians surrounded them but were also in retreat, utilizing the ships as cover from any potential fire; all of them were in worse or equal condition.

Balrock caught Damien's feet moving on their own and looked back toward him, shouting over the chaotic fire, "Don't stop!" But as his gaze was fixed backward, he noticed something in the air and screamed, "Incoming!" With a harsh push, Damien would be forced to the ground and hit the deck hard. By the time he turned on his back, he would witness a flurry of missile strikes, where geysers of dirt, innards, and wreckage went into the air from the successive explosions where previous mandalorians had been. The force and close vicinity of the strike would lift them from the ground and slam both him and Balrock into the belly of a nearby wreck. Smoke would clog and suffocate the battlefield, disguising who the culprit was until an ear-piercing, mechanical screech ripped through the air from an Osprey as it soared past.

The real danger came after. Squads of crimson-clad mandalorians would use the smoke to their advantage and drop from the air into it, immediately opening fire upon whoever was in retreat. Damien could only watch the bolts pierce through the smog as they found their targets with ease. The two recovered for a few seconds and got back on their feet. Before they could even take a step though, two Solus would emerge from the smoke, their visors locked on the pair.

The last sequence of events was a blur to Damien as he remembered Balrock charging at the two with swords drawn. One of the Solus had ignored the warrior and gone after him instead, his blade drawn too, as Damien did the same. All he could see were blurs of metal that came at him, swinging his own blade to a spattering of sparks or just missing completely as he was cut. By the time he turned to face his opponent again, a metal fist came right for the center of his helmet and knocked him on his ass, his eyes slowly fluttering until he blacked out again.