User:Stewgar
Author's note: Good day, I hope you are well. This is just a summary of the origins of Vitallion Stewgarson. I intend to produce more writings, given the level of interest. If high enough, I may write a novel which will provide more detail and lore into the world that Vitallion finds himself in. If I were to rate myself with Star Wars lore, I'd say I'm slightly above average from a knowledge standpoint. While I hope that you enjoy my writing, I'm also expectant of feedback. I like to make sure the story fits the lore - meaning no magic bean items here! I look forward to any feedback, thank you!
Prologue: Hundreds of years ago the Gammoreans appeared. Why or who sent them is only up to speculation. In what appeared to be a proxy invasion to claim the planet turned upside down when it's inhabitants were more militarized and prepared than the invaders expected. Though a trading hub, the planet was no stranger to conflict. The Gammoreans landed near cities and dense population centers in remarkable numbers - killing millions within the first days of their invasion. Although the planetary defenders were quick to respond, it did not stop the fight of the Gammoreans. Cities were lost to the Gammoreans. Industry disintegrated leading to natural disasters. Fires became rampant especially in areas of the fiercest fighting This once blue and green planet lush with vegetation and clean drinking water has turned into a rocky, ashy wasteland of death and destruction. The minor species that were stuck on the planet were eventually erradicated over the years due to the lack of mating prospects. The population has dwindled due to a lack of proper drinking water, starvation, and war. What remains are warbands of Gammoreans and communities of humans that battle in a fierce tug-of-war for survival for reasons that nobody even remembers. This short story begins with Vitallion Stewgarson, a veteran human militant who is in command of nearly 50 soldiers who are called legionaires. They are an elite fighting group called Vitallion's Legion. The legion has earned a fiersome reputation for not only supporting front line assaults, but primarily behind the lines special operations. We now join Vitallion and a squad of his legionaries in the beginning of an operation...
Vitallion marches along the crumbled street of a once prosperous city. Broken concrete and rebar replaces what was once a stury skyscraper. Perhaps it was an office building once full of droids and people bustling about. Was it a business... perhaps the office was part of the financial sector?
Who knows? After several hundred years of wars, bombings, explosions, and weapons fire, any trace of civilization has been erased from this now rocky, barren, wasteland.
Vitallion and his team have no time to dwell on what once was. He continues to march, 7 trusted legionaires tightly in tow behind him. The last member of his team faces backward, protecting their rear flank. The legionaire in front of him in line has his hand pressed against the legionaire in the rearguard position. His hand touches whatever he can of the soldier to help guide him smoothly along with the rest of the team. That is something not often spoken of about war. Sometimes you become far too acquainted with your battle mates, at least by civilian standards. They call it awkward. Soldiers call it survival.
Vatallion continues to vanguard his experienced team. His upper body hunched over at the waist, rifle raised. Both eyes opened - one trained down the sights of his rifle and the other surveying his surroundings. His eyes never staying still for a second.
Suddenly, he darts to the right. They have reached the corner of the city building. Time to move down the next block. As he does, his eyes become even more rabid as he inputs and processes the information around him. Booby traps are too sophisticated for Gammoreans. Seldom are they a surprise when set. But they are set, nonetheless. No, the real threat is marching a team straight into a Gammorean battle line, Allow them to get too close and whatever weakness they have for wits is made up in brawn. Close quarter combats with the 'pigs' is rarely strategically adviseable.
Nonetheless, that is what Vitallion's team is prepared to do. Behind the lines extraction, sabotage, assassination, subterfuge. Whatever the mission calls for. It sometimes requires releasing the advantage of strategic initiative to acquire other advantages. This constant cost-benefit analysis is on Vitallion's mind.
Vitallion suddenly stops near a door. The team subtly bounce off of each other like a train of rail cars squeezing together at their couplings when the engine slows or stops. It's subtle - the high performing team always prepared for sudden movements and repositions. Vitallion reaches his hand to his side, a signal. He waits for almost a second until he feels a pat on his shoulder. The rear guard acknowledged the signal and patted the legionaire in front of him, who then patted the shoulder of the legionaire in front of him until eventually Vitallion feels the pat. An understanding that his team has received the message. Vitallion holsters his rifle across the back of his body and swiftly slides to the other side of the door. The team moves forward a position to compensate. Vitallion reaches to his belt and retrieves a stun grenade. He and the other vanguard nod, acknowledging their preparedness. Vitallion moves in front of the door and, with a swift kick, the door falls from it's hinges and falls down. As it does, Vitallion lobs the stun grenade into the room and quickly returns to the edge of the door frame. As he does, the grunts of the barbaric Gammoreans are heard as they communicate. Perhaps they are asking what that device is on the ground. Or, maybe they smell human and are rallying their warband to prepare to attack.
It does not matter to Vitallion. With a loud 'pop', the stun grenade explodes. Shrapnel pierces some nearby Gammoreans but not enough to inflict any real damage. No, that's not the purpose of the stun grenade. When the device popped, Vitallion instantly, with his rifle now against his body, rotates around to the door and raises his rifle. As before, his eyes dart corner to corner to obtain situational awareness. Before he can even think to target the enemy, his finger squeezes the trigger. His rifle makes a whiney 'pow' sound each time he pulls the trigger. A small beam of blue light emits from the muzzle and streams to his target. The light pierces through the skull of one Gammorean. He stands for a second or two before falling down flat on his back. Another shot pierces the chest of a Gammorean. It does not kill the creature, but it does spur him awake. Their armor has some resistance to laser fire. However, for reasons unknown to the human race on this planet, Gammoreans deem it necessary to prepare their armor for piercing melee damage and not laser, ranged damage. Same for their weaponry. Very few Gammoreans even consider picking up a blaster or rifle in the heat of battle and using it to their advantage. It's not honorable, to them.
"Contact front, 6 targets. Left side, 3 targets. Room 1 left, scout go. Moving up!" Vitallion yells, barking various orders to his team. Often the orders are in some kind of code, but his team understands what it means. The team yells information to each other as they enter and spread out in the room. Laser fire, blood, and pieces of Gammorean fling across the room as the team expertly identifies and eliminates target after target. The laser fire is enough to alert anything nearby of their presence - no need for silent communication now.
"Star, star, star!". Vitallion begins to maneuver toward the middle of the room, his rifle aimed high to the gaps between floors. He can see a lot of movement. The warband is now alert and is coming to their location.
"In need of immediate extraction, hot. How copy?" Vitallion yells into his comm. Most of the team continues to fire at the doorways and gaps in the ceailing to buy them some more time.
"ETA 1 minute. You be ready, we are not waiting".
Vitallion begins a slow step back toward the door while maintaining his positive line of fire. From the other room, two of his legionaires have a Gammorean hogtied, for lack of a better term, with a bag over his head. His armor makes this Gammorean appear to be a ranking member of this warband. With a glance, Vitallion understands this one to be THE ranking member of this warband.
"1 minute, maintain spacing, get out to the street!" Vitallion yells.
The team strategically retreat from the building and form a firing line. They begin to fire blindly at the open door as the Gammorean warband starts to pour from the frame. As the Gammoreans at the front realize they are running into a kill zone, it's too late. They are shot and fall down. Other Gammoreans continue to pour and pile on top of the other fallen Gammoreans - each one realizing too late what fate finds them when they exit the building. The Gammoreans eventually realize what is happening and stop running through the front door. They start exiting the back door.
Now, two funnels of Gammoreans rush toward the 8-man legion of fighters. As they begin to pick off their enemy, a whoosh is heard from the sky. A small, very damaged box of a ship lands behind them. The ship is not recognizable on any codex's. It's comprised of parts and pieces of many other ships. A society has to make due with what they have when new parts are not being produced.
Vitallion remains planted as his team is enters into the transport ship. The last legionaire is about to enter when he turns back to Vitallion. "Beer, beer!" he yells.
Vitallion holsters his rifle, turns, and jumps into the transport. Not a moment later, the ship's thrusters ignite and roars into the air. Vitallion looks to the ground and see's the Gammorean warband shaking their fists into the air, pounding the ground, or even foolishly throwing their weapons into the air. The ship is well safe of any ranged attack the Gammoreans have ever been able to muster.
Minutes later, the ship lands at an old military base. Soldiers and civilians are busy at work preparing for battle. Meanwhile, Vitallion and his team grab ahold of their prize and march into a concrete bunker. They throw the Gammorean inside where a team of other soldiers grab ahold of him and throw him into a chair.
"Are you sure you used enough braces on him?" a soldier scoffs at Vitallion.
Vitallion glares at the common soldier. "Only the strongest and toughest of their kind become anything of rank, especially their chieftain. If you think you are restraining this one too much, you are probably wrong", Vitallion grumbles before turning and exiting the room. His troops follow him loyally.
They make haste to the command center. There, they enter the general's office. It's the nicest building on the entire installation - bookshelves with most of their shelves still available. Perhaps not functional, but there. Books... most of them are burnt or worn beyong ledgibility, but a few books are maintained. Binders with pages in them are also available. Somebody had the bright idea hundreds of years ago to begin printing anything of value as they can because once the servers are destroyed, there is no archive to retrieve information from. That somebody perhaps gave the humans a fighting chance on this planet.
"You got him?", a grizzley of a man growls. Vitallion nods. "We got him".
The grizzled man chuckles. "Vitallion's Legion... you fuckers are the best I've ever seen. Congratulations" he laughs.
Vitallion and his legionaires echo a "thank you, general" out of unison.
The general nods softly. "Vitallion, dismiss your legionaires. Have them grab some chow and RNR. I need a word with you", the general orders.
Vitallion dismisses his legionaires. Once the door snaps shut, Vitallion looks at the general.
"You look concerned, sir. Is this not what we wanted?" Vitallion asks, his eyebrow raised slightly.
"The mission isn't want concerns me. Scouts report that the warbands are assembling to assault us. Everything is going according to plan there. But we no longer have any air or artillery support".
Vitallion smashes his fist against the desk. "Those shit bags! Are they..." Vitallion stops when the general raised his hand.
"We have been out of contact with them for most of the day. Over the past week, some long distance partners are also dark. Nobody knows what is going on" the general shakes his head.
Vitallion understands the depth of the situation but does not reveal his concern. The hope was to rally the warbands of the nearby settlements, lure them into the large, flat, DMZ zone in front of the base, and destroy them using long range artillary and air power. Vitallion's legion would support the short range defense of the base... if they even made it that far. Without air and artillery support, the base may become overrun.
"Vitallion, you are dismissed for chow and RNR. Eat as much as you can, drink your fill. Load up with as much ammunition as you can carry. There may not be a tomorrow to wake up to but damnit we will hand them one hell of a fight", the general says with authority.
"Yes, sir!" Vitallion responds with intensity.
Vitallion does as instructed and spends his day eating his fill at the chow hall. He fills his canteen with water time and time again. The general has lifted the rationing policy. Some soldiers are wise to this decision and ponder about their fate in the upcomming battle. Most of the other soldiers are eager to fill their empty bellies with any food they can lay their hands on. With the base now at critically low levels of food and water, the battle siren blares.
"All hands to posts, all hands to posts!" the general yells through the intercom.
Vitallion gathers his weapons and battle rattle and makes haste to the front gate of the base. Soldiers run by him to reach their posts. However, the soldiers with the unique insignia and armor of his legion rally to him. There are nearly 50 legionaires, men and women, that are assigned under his direct command. Vitallion scans through the crowd of his legion, a grin on his face. He recognizes every face, every name. He nods when the last arrives.
"Legionaires!" Vitallion yells. His legion roars in response.
"Trust" Vitallion nods. He begins to pace back and forth along the front of his legion.
"Any military unit stands upon a foundation of trust. Trust, loyalty. Loyalty to me and amongst yourselves. I am loyal to you. You trust me to make the best decisions to complete the mission and bring everybody home. I have sworn the oath with each and every one of you that I will give you my undying and unwavering allegiance if you give me the same. This is why I tell you what I tell you now. This battle that we are about to fight... it is a losing battle. Circumstances are that we will not survive. Our support has gone dark. We may not have the power to repel the pigs. It is expected that we will become overrun" Vitallion nods. His legion does not respond.
"Why am I telling you this moments before battle? It's because of trust, and love. Each and every one of you have seperated yourselves from the common soldiers. You were all good and dared to be great. You have my love and trust. I will never keep the circumstances of battle from you. To that end, you have a decision to make. Behind you lies the rear gate. You will not be shot or arrested for desertion. Go on, join another community and survive with your families. Or stay with me, fight, and kill as many as those fuckers as you can" Vitallion continues.
"Kill count, sir?" a legionaire from the middle of the group yells.
"You are still 10 behind me, young man" Vitallion grins.
"Then today, before I die, I will be number one!" he cheers.
"Not unless I get there first!" a female voice yells.
"No, I will be #1!" "You fools, I have an assault rifle. It will be I!" "I have 10 unaccounted for though!". The legion begins to bicker amongst each other about their kill counts, all claiming to be #1. A few legionaires begin to shout #1 in a chant. Vitallion stops his pacing as he looks along his legion. One by one they all begin to chant "#1!".
A horn is heard, signaling the Grammorean assault has begun. The ground is almost trembling as hundreds of Grammoreans rush along the flats toward the military base. Vitallion turns to look at the horde rushing their position. He gins and looks as his legion.
"Number one!" he yells as he turns and runs to the defense line. Not a single legionaire turned around this day. Each and every one screamed and battle cried to their positions.
They ready their rifles and take aim. "Hold! Not in range yet!" Vitallion yells.
"Hold... hooooold...fi..."
A whoosh overhead is heard followed by several explosions. An entire row of Gammoreans fall down. Some grabbing their heads, shaking left and right. Vitallion grins but something isn't right. He looks up at the craft. The craft have an emblem on the side of their hull. It's an unknown insignia. And the explosions... they aren't fiery explosions of death and destruction. It's some kind of cloud. A gas.
Another whoosh is heard. This time, a column to Vitallion's flank is hit. The vessels have now struck against the humans.
"General, what the hell?" Vitallion yells in his comm.
"I don't know!" *static*
A ship flies toward Vitallion's location as if aiming for him specifically. The same pop is heard as gas pours from several cartridges ejected from the vessel. Vitallion begins to cough and choke. His head feels as if it is swelling and enlarging. Just like the Gammoreans, he shakes his head as if trying to be rid of some parasite.
He feels a sleep fall over him. He fights it, but the sensation is overwhelming. He falls to the ground. He opens his eyes. Human soldiers with gas masks are carrying him on a stretcher. He closes and reopens his eyes. He's now in a ship. A strangely, pristine ship. Everything looks clean. He closes his eyes again.
