Sons of Anarchy

[Crim]

Theme
Lorrd
The Ruins of New Shallos
Daytime​

A flying creature resembling a massive manta ray flew over the ruined city of New Shallos. The graceful creature didn't intend on stopping in the city; the ruin of New Shallos was only one spot it would pass during its long migration. Its giant frame cast a shadow over the desert city, passing over the battalion. Ebiara couldn't help but watch the creature soar through the skies. She had mistaken it for an enemy aircraft, which had earned it her attention. After a few seconds, she returned her gaze to the ruined streets straight ahead.

Her lightsaber was clipped to her belt, along with a canteen and a grappling hook. Black Sith robes covered her body, Echani dueling armor jutting out of the robes at her chest/neckline. Behind her, a battalion of troops walked with orders to provide aid to the Lorrdian Resistance Army. These brave men and women fought for their freedom against Argazdan slave masters. Two WA-12 walkers marched with the Sith, hobbling rather awkwardly on their feet. These walkers were designed such that it was difficult to tip over while walking, though it always seemed like these top-heavy tanks could topple over at any moment.

New Shallos had been a sandy ruin for some time now, and it was most definitely apparent. Once-proud skyscrapers jutted out of the desert sands, their crumbling facades appearing at jagged angles. Houses where people had once made their homes and lives were now buried deep under the rolling dunes of Lorrd. On the northern side of town, the walls that once defended the city from attack still stood, guarding a section of the ruins from erosion and sandstorms. The city seemed to slowly rise out of the desert the closer one got to the northern wall.

According to the transmission sent from the Lorrd Resistance Army, they were holed up in an old observatory. The coordinates placed the location of their base just ahead, in a quarter of a kilometer. A half-dome that seemed to have been built out of sandstone rose out of the ground, a cluster of palm trees standing near its base. The observatory, despite being halfway buried in sand, was impressively tall. Ebiara found herself wondering what it had looked like before New Shallos was bombed.

Once the battalion approached the dome, Ebiara held her hand up in a fist to order them to halt. After a few seconds of absolutely no activity, the dome began to vibrate and rattle, a layer of sand trickling off its surface. The edge of the dome closest to them began to slowly rise, revealing a dark interior. Slowly, the inside was illuminated and the Sith could make out a man wearing a tan military coat and holding a blaster rifle in his hands. Two soldiers flanked him, one on each side. The man walked forward and said, "Welcome to Lorrd, Sith."

@Apollyon

 

[Apollyon]

Apollyia had come to Lorrd not as a warleader, or a representative of power within the Sacred Band, but as a Shock Trooper, a being meant to inspire fear in the lines of his enemies and raise the morale of his allies in turn. While this was his purpose being here, what had really pushed him out to fight on Lorrd was a simple need, the lust for war, his internal need for bloodshed, glory, and the honor he would gain in the hereafter. As he marched within the frontlines of the battalion that had been sent to support the Sith on her mission his eyes were distant, his mind was elsewhere.

In his head, images of countless dead serving him in the afterlife or preparing to stand against him danced about. He heard his name being called in the halls and the tales of his exploits were sung over countless cups of ale and mead. This scenario, this fate caused his heart to swell with both faith and pride. One day, he would sit amongst the ancestors and heroes of old within the Halls of Glory and he would no longer be an outcast but counted as one of them.

“Welcome to Lorrd, Sith.”

These words drew Apollyia from his confines of his mind and returned him to the present. His march halted as the row of soldiers standing in formation before him stopped and he stood at attention with the rest of the Sith and Sacred Band members who had come to lay waste to those who opposed the Brotherhood. Apollyia never spoke as the Sith Commander and the Lorrd Rebel exchanged what few words were required, instead he simply waited for the Sith to allow them to break formation and begin to set up camp or inspect the defensive properties of the ruins.

Apollyia knew an enemy far vaster then the soldiers the Brotherhood could afford to send would be upon them in a mere half a day at best, less than four hours at the worst. While his beliefs demanded a sacrifice to the Avatar of War and the Spirit of Death, the Zabrak knew that he had to attend to the defenses before this could even be accomplished. As such, he ignored the squeaks of distress coming from the young rats stored in his pack and he focused solely on his duties.

Swift were his movements as he helped build makeshift fortifications to protect their men from hails of blaster fire and somewhat cushion the impact of artillery rounds. While what little they could build wouldn’t stop blaster cannon fire from a tank, it would provide some much needed cover or create ambush points within the walls of the ruins should their enemies break through their first line of defense. Once what few defensive structures they could muster had been built, Apollyia and several other Brothers and Sisters began to place explosive traps near the front entrances of buildings, and at angles heading up stairs.

These traps were designed to maim or wound as opposed to kill, allowing the Sacred Band opportunities to pick off enemies who came rushing to aid their fallen allies. It was a cruel, yet practical tactic that was commonly used and practiced while attempting to hold a fortification. All of this took the soldiers of the Sacred Band and the footmen of the Sith nearly three hours to complete and once it was done they had at the very least an hour to check their own equipment, eat, and mentally prepare themselves for war.

As per usual, sleeping would come in shifts, with units being rotated on the walls as guards every few hours. This was to allow a muster call to be issued once the enemy arrived at their gates, but it was also to protect the entrenched forces from enemy aerial bombardments by giving them a handful of precious seconds to scatter for safety as the bombers came in.

This was Apollyia’s time to prepare himself for war, to make his sacrifices to the ancestors of his people, his patron hero, and the spirit of the dead. He knelt inside his tent, his helmet and chestplate had been removed for the ceremony he was undertaking. On his left sat the cage of mice, the best offering he could give to the spirits in the short time he had after his mission had been given to him on the star destroyer floating above the planet. On his right side sat a small music playback device with the pre-recorded music the ceremony required filling his tent with tribal singing, mournful wailing, and the howls of Akk Wolves. In his lap sat a small makeshift set of hand drums that Apollyia was steadily beating to the rhythm of the ceremony music as he muttered prayers to himself. And before him, between the top of his knees and the edge of a small fire was a wooden bowl, several powders made from bone and grain, and a single ceremonial blade.

After a few minutes of near constant utterances on Rattataki, Apollyia finally stopped playing his drums, and the music from his playback device ceased. Now the night air would be filled with the dying squeaks of the small rodents as Apollyon crushed their necks by one and removed their organs from their corpses. He would mix the organs in with the various powders until it formed a thick jelly like paste. It would be then that he called on the names of his wartribes ancestors as he dipped three of his fingers into the paste, and wiped it vertically down the center of his face. Then he would evoke the name of his patron hero before dipping his fingers a second time into the paste and applying it twice in diagonal patterns downwards across either sides of his face. Then finally, he would call upon the spirit of the dead, asking it to guide those he killed in battle into the halls to serve him or should he fall in battle that it be a good death, one deserving of the halls; after this he consumed what remained of the paste and poured water on his small campfire.

The entire time he conducted this religious ceremony in preparation for battle he would not look around, he would not care who gazed upon him. It would not be until the ceremony was finished that he turned from facing the back “wall” of his cloth tent and exited its confines. The blood of the vermin still drying upon his face even as he slid his chest piece back on and into place on his massive frame, what little time he had left would be spent around the fires with his brothers and sisters. Together, they would crush those who had dared stand against the might of the Dark Brotherhood, beside them he would find eternal glory.

 

[Crim]

((OOC: Excellent choice of music!))

She scanned the horizon, making note of the denizens of Lorrd and their apparent commander. She remained silent and imposing, the desert winds whipping her cape, as if to punctuate the silence she maintained. The man stepped forward; nearly every inch of his skin was covered to protect him from the harsh sun of Lorrd. A metal chestpiece protected his torso, with a gladiator pauldron sitting atop his right shoulder. His legs and right arm were covered in wrappings that resembled bandages. Tattered bandages covered his left arm, which was a crude, prosthetic limb upon cursory inspection. "I am Lieutenant General Bah'te Kirslah, Lorrdian Resistance Army," he said, pausing for a brief second before correcting himself; "Apologies. General Bah'te Kirslah. General Rilo died just last night," he said.

"I must say, we are honored that the Sith have chosen to join us on the battlefield. You are invited to-" the general began before Ebiara spoke up. "You may dispense with the pleasantries, General. I am here to ensure your loyalty to the Sith in the future. If turning the tide of a war is what must be done, then so be it," she said, walking with the general.
"Turn the tide of battle? My lord, you misunderstand. This is not a war to win. It is a fight to survive," he said.
"You speak as if you have already lost. Defeat is unacceptable."
"We have never faced this many before!"
"You have never fought alongside a Sith before," she said, striding into the shadow of the observatory. "My allies will aid your men in the fortification of these ruins. Gather your officers. We have much to discuss."

The war room was built into an old lecture hall. The windows that once allowed light to flood into the room had long since shattered. Sand had poured into the room, covering much of the room in the ever-present grit. Wires and cables were running through the room, establishing power to tactical computers readouts. The overhead projector that had once given holographic lectures was now being used to display readouts of the battlefield.

The enemy army would be coming in from the southeast. The Lorrdians were planning on holding the line outside of the city. The nearby dunes and canyons would make such a strategy impossible. The officers bickered for hours while Ebiara studied the map. From the looks of it, the Lorrdians were at a tactical disadvantage. All around them, the enemy had the high ground. Their only hope was to either abandon the city or fight inside the city. While they plotted and bickered, the Sacred Band member with which she had traveled prepared for battle religiously. She believed he would need to be briefed.

She stepped out of the meeting room and traversed the observatory before finally located Apollyia Vrand. He represented not he Sacred Band today; he fought as a shock trooper and continue to fight as one he would. Apollyia was in his tent, just finishing one of his rituals. She watched with interest as he dipped his fingers in paste, wiped it on his face, and ate what was left. She allowed him space to complete his ritual; she was no one to interrupt his traditions or prayers. She herself came from a superstitious culture. A culture who, among other things, feared the dark. The irony of this deep-seated fear was not lost on Ebiara, who practically worshiped fear. She had much respect for traditions that survived into this age, nonetheless, and neither chastised nor praised people who practiced these traditions.

The Zabrak left his tent, covered in what appeared to be blood and paint. She found herself momentarily captivated by the man and his traditions. He intended to spend his time with his fellow warriors, but she would speak with him first.

"We have a plan to trap this approaching army in the city and slaughter them. This requires forces in the city and forces in the hills above. Where would you prefer to fight?" she said, cutting to the chase.

 

[Apollyon]

Although lacking a connection to the Force, Apollyia had felt eyes upon him as he conducted his ritual, something that wasn’t uncommon in his experience. Religion was something that was uncommon within the ranks of the Sacred band, instead beliefs often were replaced with a fanatical commitment to the destruction of enemies and the honor it would bring. As such, when a member of the Band openly conducted personal ceremonies as Apollyia often did it drew attention towards them.

This was never Apollyia’s intentions behind each ritual he conducted; instead they were rooted from his own personal beliefs and faith in his ancestors. As such, the massive Zabrak had grown accustom to the eyes peering and leering on him as he openly practiced his faith. This was just another spiritual preparation for the mighty warrior, something both his culture and beliefs demanded of him before he entered into combat of any type.

With his ritual conducted, Apollyia was able to stride confidently out of his tent, knowing the blessings of his ancestors were upon him. The Zabrak had just attached his Armorplast chestplate and insured it was secured when the much smaller figure of the Sith Commander approached him. Despite the two being considered equals by the Brotherhood, Apollyia dipped his head, stopped securing the clasps on his right shoulder, and brought two of his fingers to his forehead. This was a sign of respect in his culture, one warrior wordlessly greeting and acknowledging another of equal skill.

“We have a plan to trap this approaching army in the city and slaughter them. This will require forces in the city and forces in the hills above. Where would you prefer to fight?” The smaller woman asked him, being both blunt and direct with Apollyia.

The massive Zabrak pondered for a moment at her question as he slid his hands back into the confines of his gauntlets and began to clasp his vambraces into place. His tongue slid across his metal predatory teeth as he weighed both options in his mind. Internally, the conflict between his pride and hunger for battle struggled against adhering to a stratagem that could result in the highest possible strategic benefit to accomplishing their objective.

Both his single natural eye and his cybernetic one scanned the mediocre defenses he and the rest of the Sacred Band had managed to establish alongside the Sith and Rebel forces. They were adequate enough to lure chunks of an enemy force into a trap, baiting them into pursuing what would appear to be a losing force into isolation. However, if their enemies were not foolish and remained as singular force, Apollyia knew his glorious death would be fast upon him.

Then another realization dawned upon the warrior, he hadn’t come to make the decisions in this battle. He hadn’t been assigned to dish out orders as the Sith had been and whatever she had planned for their forces was likely vastly superior to any strategy he could develop. So, despite being offered the choice of where to fight and being given the opportunity to take his fate into his own hands, he opted to trust in his commander’s plan. With that understanding realized, Apollyia’s response would be a simple one and one that recognized his role in this operation.

“I will go where ever you need me commander.” Apollyia finally replied, his right hand instinctively touching the head of the war axe which hung at his hip.

 

[Crim]

"You were responsible for arming a number of traps from what I understand. It is only sensible that you be responsible for defending the city; you know where the traps are and where to make use of them," Ebiara said. Apollyia was a complex man with a rich personality. Honorable, religious, intelligent. But he was a warrior however way one looks at it. He knew his way around a battlefield because he had spent his life fighting on one. She saw a level of respect and understanding in his eyes that she saw in her comrades the Sith. It was refreshing to meet someone who held no illusions about who they were and who she was.

"There will be a briefing in the morning. Until then, try to get some sleep," she said before turning and walking back into the Observatory.

___________
Ebiara rested atop a cot located in a pavilion open to the outside elements. Her eyes were fixed on the night sky of Lorrd. One thing she always found spectacular was the different constellations on every planet. The stars she viewed from her home on Zelos II as a child were not the same as those she viewed from her study on Moraband. Each night sky was like a fingerprint. A snowflake. A massive, unique view that no other planet in the galaxy could witness. When she was a child, she would stare at the galaxy on clear nights while her mother told her stories of the Zelosian constellations. Lichus, the Bringer of Joy. Angia, the Queen of Beauty. Gymnus, the massive tree from which Zelosian life spawned. Even to this day, Ebiara would gaze at the incredible constellation, marveling at the intricacies of Gymnus. Zelosians, being blind in the dark, held many myths about stars and frequently looked to them for guidance. Ebiara was no different.

She was currently on the other side of the galaxy from her homeworld. The constellations of this world were completely different. Foreign to her. It occurred to her that she was in the only place where she could learn of the constellations above her head. She slid off the cot and entered the millennia-old lobby of the observatory. On the ceiling, a map of the constellations was printed. It was, of course, heavily damaged and missing huge swaths of stars. The entire starfield she could see in the west, it appeared, would remain a mystery forever. Perhaps even the Lorrdians themselves had lost what these stars were once called. However, there was a section of stars, perfectly preserved by time, printed on the ceiling.

A feint outline stretched around one particular constellation, forming a sword. After a few minutes of Ebiara searching the ceiling for more constellations, General Kirslah approached her. "You travel the skies, yet you seem so fascinated by ours," he said.
"What of it?"
"It is simply a curiosity."

The two stood there in silence for a few seconds before Ebiara pointed at the sword constellation. "Does this constellation hold any deeper meaning on this world?"
"That... is the Sword of Justice. It is a constellation that forms rarely because our own moon, in addition to two other planets in our system, forms the blade of the sword. According to Lorrdian mythology, the Sword of Justice will form during our darkest hours and lead our people to victory. But... beware the Serpent: a constellation easily confused for the Sword. The Serpent is said to have led many armies to their doom under the false pretense of hope. Mythology holds that this serpent will form during a time of great strife and will result in a thousand-year darkness," he said.
"Like the slavers who betrayed you," Ebiara said.
The General nodded.

Suddenly, a feint rumble was heard in the distance. The General and the Sith looked at each other before running to see what the source of the noise was. In the distance, muzzle-fire could be seen. "They've found us!"
"Rally the troops. We're going to be moving ahead with our plan a bit early, it seems."
The General nodded and ran to the war room. Walking towards the stairs of the lobby, Ebiara called to Apollyia on her comlink. "Join me in the war room. Our enemy has arrived ahead of schedule."