Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Tales of a Scrappy Spacer

Isaiah Dashiell

Guest
I
It was dark, so dark. He could hear the screams, but he couldn't see anything. His ribs burned white hot as if he was being struck with a branding iron. His head throbbed and felt like it would split open like a melon. Something wet was dripping onto his head, he couldn't tell what it was.

That Scream again.

He wanted his brother, where was Zeke? Zeke would tell him to be strong. How old was he now? He shouldn't be such a lamb. Black again and that scream.

He woke up, his shirt neatly spattered with blood. It was blazing hot, alarms sounded dully. The vast desert of Tatooine spread out in all directions. He stumbled from his hiding spot and shielded his eyes from the blinding sun. Half of the starship was simply gone, sparks still came from the exposed circuits, claw marks adorned the outside and inside of the hull. What had happened here no one would believe, and to be honest neither could Izzy.

In fact he had no recollection of what had transpired. Holding his head in pain he stumbled down from the ship and into the sand, sweat dripping down his brow.

"Where the kark am I...?"
 

Isaiah Dashiell

Guest
I
The sand was hot and felt like it was burning through his shoes. He had taken what little water he could find in the wreckage of the ship and other supplies like nutrient paste and shoved it into a bag he found. It wouldn't last him two days, not in this heat. Sweat kept his shaggy black hair pasted to his face and it felt like the sun was starting to cook his brain.

He stumbled and fell to his knees into the sand, the bag slid around on his back and fell to the golden bed of sand with a soft plop. He could hear the grains tumble down the dune.

"People do this kind of thing for fun?" It was a rhetorical question, not like anyone would be able to answer him way out here.
 

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