Star Wars: Dusk to Dawn

The Resistance

A Warrior's Life

The streets swarmed with people. It seemed every citizen had taken to the streets to retake their city. Drokar smiled. A streetful of warriors, ready to do battle with the empire. He’d seen far too much bloodshed and horror at the hands of the empire. His mind drifted back to the attack on his friend’s ship, the attack that had landed him with the Republic Military. He’d played the trade lanes for years with Arturo, the young human spacer. The ships hull had looked like swiss cheese. Arturo fought with the controls as circuits overloaded, lighting the cockpit with arcs of electricity and sparking equipment. The ship was dying, and both of them knew it. The YT-1200 was a sturdy ship, but it could not withstand such a brutal beating. “DRO! GET IN THE GODDAMN ESCAPE POD!” Arturo yelled. Drokar shook his head. Not now. Not here.
There was work to be done. As the two groups approached, Drokar could see the commander, surrounded by a large human body guard. They locked eyes and Drokar knew, instantly that the large human was his. Two violent people in a violent world. It’d been quite some time since he’d had a real challenge. Stormtroopers could be dangerous in numbers, but Drokar had become practiced at fighting the throngs of them that would flood this battle.
In the distance, a massive explosion rocked the city. Their earlier raid had gone successful as a bright explosion rose in the skyline. It was the trumpet sounding the battles beginning. Drokar eagerly jumped into the fray, brutally mowing through stormtroopers, never losing focus on the man with his hands clutched at his chest, looking over the cowl of his breathmask as he watched his nemesis cut through his forces. There was a look of respect in the eyes, even if it was simply that he was a worthy adversary.
The hordes melded together, blaster bolts flying to and fro, some friendly fire, some finding their true targets. Drokar made his way up the steps as one particularly gung-ho stormtrooper rushed towards him. The trooper charged with a vibro-knife. “Take this you rebel scum!” he screamed. Drokar caught his arm in the midst of the charge, swiftly disarming the knife. The trooper was stunned as Drokar grabbed the back of his head and made him kiss the concrete steps. The helmets crack seemed to rise above the din of the fighting. The body slumped motionless against the steps and began to tumble.
Zane stepped out to meet him, hands still clutched at his chest. “Drokar… Now you will meet your reckoning.” His voice seemed somewhat raspy. Perhaps he needed a losenge. A losenge of fists. (Fuck it, this is too hilarious not to put in here.)
The massive human began to charge towards Drokar, slowly building speed as he rushed across the steps of the city senate. Drokar’s fur bristled. He’d been waiting for this fight since the beginning. A true challenger to his skill. Zane’s blow hit Drokar with an earth shattering amount of force. He heard a bone crack as he stumbled back, trying desperately to suck in oxygen after having all of it forcibly removed from his lungs.
‘Good hit…’ he thought as he charged back in, undettered. His own flurry of fists and claws struck Zane. It seemed like it should have been a debilitating hit, with the power that he had struck Zane with. Drokar felt a pang of worry as Zane simply stepped forward into the blow, bringing his own fists to bear again. The next blow caught Drokar right in the side of the head. His skull racked with pain and the dull roar of what had normally been shell-shock. Suddenly, he was back on his homeworld.
A nameless voice spoke, in a brightly lit jungle, the night sky bright above them under a moon.“Young ones, the warrior must never quit. You are the staunch defenders of all we hold dear. You are the torch in the darkness, the specter in the night. You are the first to enter, and the last to leave the fight.” the voice paused.
“A warrior shows no fear….” The voice faded as he snapped back to reality, the pain being the first sign that he was back as he stumbled backwards up the stairs, trying to regain his bearings.
“A coward, I see.” his enemy spoke.
Drokar growled. That one had struck a nerve. A new fury overtook him. He got a running start, jumping into the air and hoisting both fists above his head for what would be a brutal hammer blow. “I AM NOT A COWARD!” he roared as his fists and body tangled with that of Zane. The mask cracked off of Zane’s face as the blow seemed to cleave into his head, bones and cartilage crunching as the two of them tumbled down the stairs. Drokar managed to stay on top of Zane, still hitting the non-responsive attacker.
The cracking gave way to a wet ‘splat’. Drokar stopped. He threw his head back, releasing a roar of victory that rose above the battle, reaching to the stars themselves. It was primal, it was pure. Around him, the rebel troops pushed forward, beating the last of the stormtroopers back. Many would die. Many would be captured. He was proud to be on the front lines with such passionate souls.
The image of the dead shistavanen family, riddled with blaster bolts came to mind. He ran forward, eager to join his allies, and hopefully finish off a few more imperials.


I replaced ‘empire’ with ‘separatists’ in my head :-)

The Resistance

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