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Ascension: Civil Unrest!

Aran Finn

Redeemed
Writer
ASCENSION
***Shuttle***​

"If I may?" The Devaronian shuttle pilot spoke, his gutteral tone piercing Alen Na'Varro's concentration. The bearded man took a moment to respond, his gaze lingering on the icy landscape for a split second. The land rose from the sea sharply in this part of the world. Icy cliffs rose a hundred meters in places, the contrast with the choppy azure water below stark and proud. As the shuttle flew by, the Dark Jedi could see the cliffs on his left side, and the ice cold ocean on the other. It was beautiful. Home was beautiful. Eight hundred years, or thereabouts, and the sights still had not changed. So much for global warming, especially on a planet where frost still thawed on the ground during summer mornings, and one could see their breath easily even when the sun was at its zenith. That was Ascension. Beautiful, harsh and cold. That was home.

"Go ahead." Alen did not look back at the Devaronian; he merely watched the waves crash with futility against the ice rock wall of the continent of Corino. There were too many memories here. None bore thinking about in detail, if only for sanity's sake.

"Now is an odd time to come home." The bearded man sighed and looked over at the shuttle pilot now, noting his light red skin and shocking tooth to gum ratio. The man was curious enough, he supposed. But that was not out of the ordinary. Shuttle pilots were, in general, up in just about everyone's business. Perk of the job ... or curse, depending on one's singular perception. Alen looked back at the waves again, brow creasing with worry.

"Sometimes you just can't keep waiting." Eight hundred years. Heh. Alen appreciated that little joke, even if he was the only one in the shuttle who got it. A small smile crept up his face slowly as he continued to watch the waves. The Devaronian watched him for a second before shaking his head, almost imperceptibly, and turning back to the task at hand.

"You might want to hold onto something. There's always a chance the fly in could get a little hot."

"So that's why the fare was so steep?" The Devaronian shrugged, still concentrating on what was in front of him.

"Sometimes the military fires AA at us if we get to close to the no-fly zone. You humans, eh? So touchy." Well, Alen wasn't going to argue with that...

***Ground-side***​
The Devaronian had managed to drop Alen in the city square without much incident. During the fly in, he had managed to get a good view of Ascension City, and to be truthful it was much as he had remembered it. Sure, all but a few of the buildings had changed, as progress rarely halts for an eight hundred year period. But the layout of the city remained extremely similar. There were two main, huge squares that dominated the ground-side level of the city. Alen stood in Ascension Square, which was the biggest public thoroughfare and was thoroughly dominated by protestors. Barricades manned by oddly-equipped protestors gave reasonable protection against raids by Hegemony forces, who dominated Government Square to the north. Government Square held all of the important, planet-wide central administration buildings from which all of the capital and its surrounds were run, and as such had the highest concentration of police and troops. But in general, though the protestors seemed disorganised and poorly equipped, they had sheer numbers on their side. The rebels held much of the ground-side level city, and he had no doubt that they held much of the undercity, which was carved into the sea-side cliffs and was the home to most of the Prolii who had taken to the streets in protest. But it seemed that they had not been able to pierce government defenses in weeks. Things were well and truly in the balance.

Things were in a momentary lull now, so Alen took the time to situate himself amongst the throngs of protestors. Ascension Square had the makings of a camp city, with men, women and children sitting and standing in large groups. Some chatted in low voices, some sang, some compared weapons, and in general things seemed quiet. Occasionally, Alen could hear the sounds of blasterfire to the north, and so he gradually made his way towards the northern-most barricade. He kept his eyes open, trying to figure out who was in charge and where they were situated, but so far, observation had told him nothing. So the Dark Jedi sought out some trouble. The northern end of the city was where he would most likely find it.
 
Major Faction

Amz

OOC Account
Writer
ASCENSION, ORBIT
Ever since all this madness had began, Alida had retraced her steps through the Galaxy, looking for familiarity and sanctuary. Soon she realized that there was nothing to go back to, nowhere she could run to where she’d be safe. Time was beginning to blend together, and Alida had put the pieces together. This wasn’t the same Galaxy that she’d been birthed into. Some things remained unchanged through time, but whatever life she had known before was certainly gone.

A daunting thought all on it’s own.

Her dark-veridian eyes stared out the viewport windows, duly observing the black galaxy speckled with glittering dots of light, and floating dust, debris left behind of dead planets and stars. Had she hoped to find anything more? Absentmindedly she wondered, clenching her eyes shut.

After traveling through various systems, Alida had concluded that either @[member="Alen Na'Varro"] was dead, or the two would not cross paths again before one of them was. She’d been filled with hopelessness at the thought, but then forced herself to continue a pursuit of adaptation, putting on a face of bravery and moving forward. To linger in a world of self pity would be to die and be forgotten. Jido had reminded her of that, had forced Alida to put aside her own grief and press onward. Even bastards have to show how strong a Na’varro can be. But to what end? Alida was just a woman, and a young one at that. She’d never be recognized as anything more.

But Jido was strong with his intentions and ambitions, even going as far as to try and call himself her father. If not for being mindful of scornful repercussions, she would have laughed at his claim. Anyone with half a brain would see through his poor facade, but she’d been told it was the only way. The people wouldn’t recognize her, and much sooner mock any claim she tried to make. A bastard, and female. It was a deadly combination, even if half the world was enveloped in chaos.

Fear gripped it’s claws around her beating heart, and wouldn’t let go. Jido was a fool to bring her into this type of hell - but she'd known better than to question the man's judgment, choosing rather to brood in silence.

They had no army, no weapons. Even with money, what good was any support they could offer? She knew there’d be enough to supply some with medical attention, even weapons. That wasn't their main goal, however. Their main mission objective was simple: assess the full situation before any further action was taken. But their pockets had an end. What more action could they take? Thoughts as these were regularly at the forefront of her mind.

With lips pressed tightly together, her entire body tensed and both dark eyes widened, fingers digging deeply into the cushion of the armrests. The planet of her family's ancestral world filled the windows of the viewport, but it was anger and fire of the people, that touched her first.
 

Rick Craft

Detective
Character
Ascension
Groundside, Government Square

Detective Rick Craft couldn't have picked a better time to be a Homicide Detective for Coruscant P.D. Because of Coruscant's diverse population and the millions of beings who traveled to and from the planet weekly it wasn't uncommon for the investigating Detective to be forced to track a suspect to another system entirely. Which normally wasn't much of an issue as long as CPD communicated properly with the other planet's government. The Hapan sighed and glanced about the square with a critical eye. His shuttle had very nearly been blasted before landing. Rick figured the only thing that stopped them was his mention of technically being considered a Republic Diplomat.

Which was of course, a lie.

The military and police force of the planet seemed tasked to Max capacity. The city appeared as though it was about to erupt. Armed soldiers in full regalia maned barricades with light machine Blasters.

Rick needed to work quickly.

The current state of unrest wouldn't last long before the city imploded on itself and the planet was too damn cold.
 

Aran Finn

Redeemed
Writer
"-Every time the Equits use violence; every time the Hegemon sends his hands to crush this world's one hope for liberty and justice; we grow stronger!"

A man stood addressing the crowd. He was tall and slender, with a mess of dark hair and an arrogant air of entitlement that Alen could almost smell, even from the distance that they had between them and the mass of bodies that stood in the way. Alen stopped in the middle of the throng of Prolii, watching the man. He was young, very young, perhaps in his mid-twenties at the latest, and obviously well educated. The Dark Jedi marked him as one of the Prolii who were from a prosperous enough family to be sent to the Core or Inner Rim to study. Or perhaps Naboo ... that planet was not too far away, and Alen thought he could hear tinges of a Southern Naboo accent in his voice. Whatever the case, Alen could read him. He was an educated man, one with delusions of grandeur, and in the plight of his people he saw an opportunity to enter the history books. He was not as smart as he thought he was, and he could be controlled. If he wanted to enter the history books, Alen could get him there. The boy had charisma and the sheer power of will at least. With the bearded noble's help, he would go far. The young man was flanked by a couple of rough-and-tumble types, so he guessed that he had followers, or at least a few. And the crowd seemed to be interested in his words.

"Even now, the Hegemon's bullies march toward us to crush us under their boot heels, or worse! But we will not be crushed! We will not accept this system any longer! We will fight, and we will live!"

Able-bodied men pressed forward now, moving towards the man and his lackeys, who began passing out an assortment of military cast-off weaponry. Blaster rifles, even a couple sonic emitters ... not much in the way of heavy tech, but it was a start. Alen wondered if these dockworkers, labourers and fishermen knew much about the weapons apart from how to aim, reload, and squeeze the trigger ... but there were a lot of them, and lot more to take their place after these ones had sacrificed themselves for their ideals, and this boy's political aspirations. Alen surged forward with them, joining the throng that pressed towards the front of the crowd. It was less of a line and more of a jumble ... the Dark Jedi saw a lot of eager faces.

It took a couple of minutes to reach the front. Rather than accept a blaster rifle, Alen stepped forward and past the man dealing them out. Time seemed to slow.

"Stop him!" The young man seemed to act in fear. That was good. That meant he could be controlled. Alen reached out with the Force now, affecting every mind he could touch like a cloud. His was not a calming influence, but more of a mind-altering one. It was the individual chemicals and synapses in the brain which he sought to alter ... the Dark Jedi had always preferred to use his blade, but mental manipulation was one of his strengths.

"That will not be necessary." The men who sought to stop him ceased, unable to control themselves, for Alen was able to bypass their sense of reason, logic and emotion. His words were layered with the persuasive elements of the Force, so compelling against the minds of the weak.

"Go about your business." And they went.

The young man did not see a Dark Jedi, just a persuasive vergence in the collective subconscious of sentient minds. And he saw that vergence approaching him calmly, unassumingly, dangerous in his lack of pretentiousness.

"Who are you?" Alen ignored that particular question, dismissing it as unnecessary. Which it was. They would have time for introductions later, which would also be wasted in the long run. The bearded man already knew that he was going to kill the boy at an opportune moment. That was destiny, and logic.

"You've sent a lot of men to their deaths. I will go and watch over them, and bring back as many as I can. A lot of deaths will look bad in the long run."

"Their sacrifice will not be in vain." - defiantly.

"Their deaths are necessary, I know. This world has a great opportunity on its hands."

"Who are you?"

"That can wait. We can acquaint ourselves after the task at hand is accomplished. And then I am sure we can help each other."

Alen left then, the young man remaining. He seemed confused, which was only fair, for it was Alen's intention to be obtuse. Regardless, the Dark Jedi pushed on, now with a blaster rifle in hand, and took his place amongst the part-time warriors. The northern-most barricade would be their launching point. Alen would be their salvation.
 
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