Tadath: The planet that the ground forces of the Vast Empire, one of the largest Imperial Remnant factions left in the galaxy, had called home. Boasting a vibrant ecosystem, a diverse and majestic climate and a killer tourist industry, the moon had proudly been one of the major homes of the Vast Empire ever since its formation, a center of Imperial civilization and peace. All of that changed, however, when Grand Admiral Thrawn had set his glowing ruby gaze on the planet. The first attack had been costly, taking a toll on the major cities and infrastructure of the planet, along with massive casualties. However, despite the losses, it had been fought off. The people had thought themselves safe…hah, wrong.
The second time Thrawn threw his forces at Tadath, it was even worse. Bloody and brutal fighting broke out across the planet, with atrocities committed by both sides. In the end, the Vast Empire had managed to drive Thrawn back, but the face of victory was sour indeed. Now under martial law, Stormtroopers patrol the streets for any trouble-makers whilst the hospitals remain full to bursting, and the literacy rate drops like a proton bomb, since there isn’t enough money to rebuild the destroyed schools that had once instructed the future generations of Imperial Citizens. Tadath was in a desperate state, still recovering from the beating that it had taken at the hands of its blue-skinned nemesis.
Out here, however, at the Stormtrooper Training Academy, located in the isolated forests near the south of the planet, one couldn’t tell. It had been largely untouched during the fighting, having no strategic importance whatsoever at the time of the attacks. Outside of the clearings that had been made for firing ranges, parade grounds and buildings, the forest stretched out as far as the eye could see, a verdant world of greens and browns, the trees rising upwards in defiance of gravity, proof that even on a war-torn world like Tadath, there was still some glimmer of beauty to be found. It was something to take some small measure of comfort from, especially for the recruits undergoing the harsh and unforgiving torture that was Stormtrooper Basic Training – known as one of the most challenging courses in the galaxy.
Audible amongst the mix of barked instructions and the various sounds of wildlife that streamed in from the forest was a soft voice, lyrical in its accent and, though somewhat pleasant to listen to, hopelessly and completely out of tune. The voice was obviously male in nature, and seemed to be floating down to ground level from above. The words made it clear that it was a song, even if it was being badly sung.
“Cuz you cannot stop all of the doubts inside,
There's no solace in the prison of your mind,
And inside your head there’s nowhere left to hide,
The fear takes you, and she becomes your bride,
This is anxiety!”A young man, sitting on top of one of the barracks buildings in the main area of the training camp, was taking full advantage of a rare opportunity to snatch a bit of rest and respite from the brutal training regime. He was garbed in Imperial Stormtrooper armour from the waist down, the training armour that most of the candidates wore in order to familiarize themselves with full-body armour. From the waist up, he was wearing a worn, threadbare tank top that showed off the wiry muscle on his arms, along with the uncountable tiny scars that criss-crossed his tanned skin, creating an odd ‘tiger stripe’ pattern. On his shoulders were a pair of tattoos – on the left, the Imperial Cog Wheel, and on the left, a convict’s barcode and number on the right.
Of note was the twin pairs of dog-tags that dangled from his neck – one was the standard-issue Stormtrooper Cog Tags that every recruit was issued with, but Sam had a second pair – the TIE fighter design that was issued to Imperial Pilots upon acceptance into the Imperial Academy. It was obvious that this man had qualified as one of the elite TIE pilots at some stage in his career, a profession that required lightning reflexes and incredible spatial awareness. The young man singing on the roof gave no indication of having any of these talents, appearing to be off in his own world as he absolutely shattered any concept of tune. This wasn’t anything new to those who knew him – Sam Jack Dunn, known as the ‘golden boy’ of the Starfighter Corps, was widely considered to be eccentric.
He chuckled to himself at just how pitiful the lyrics he had written down were – they had sounded a hell of a lot better in his head. Shaking his head and brushing the hair from his eyes, he found the humour in his attempt at poetry and latched onto it, allowing it to restore his morale and put a smile on his face. Sam prided himself on being able to take joy from even the slightest thing, a talent that had allowed him to survive intact from all sorts of horrifying situations…especially his childhood. Of course, he mused, at least he had an absolutely amazing scar collection. Always look on the bright side. Sam Dunn firmly believed that every single second could well be his last, and he planned to hold his last breath and go out with a smile smeared on his face. So it was that he finished his quiet chuckle and put pen to paper and voice to the unfortunate ears of anyone who was listening once again.
”Can’t regain control, trapped inside your head,
Afraid to lose it all, too afraid to leave your bed,
Cut off by a wall, breathing but mostly dead,
You dare not even take a stand, for the fear that you’ll fall,
An empty shell – your soul’s already fled.
This is anxiety!”- OOC:
- Joint CD thread
