The Streets of Enarc

[Unblessed]

ENARC
UPMARKET SHOPPING DISTRICT
OOC Thread

It was alive. Vibrant. A feeling of unity and collective familial purpose presided over all that were present. For all the noise and the hustle and all the bustle, it was a feeling of resolve that permeated the air. Voices that had felt silenced, quieted by the accepted way of the galaxy, were calling out together and finding that theirs was a voice that was no longer alone. This was a people’s movement. The elite did not exist here. From the markets, the small businesses, the slums and the blue collar neighbourhoods the people came forth to make their voice heard.

”It is only because it is the way that it has been that people unquestioningly accept the rule of super powered genetically blessed individuals. Do you dare to question the status quo? Do you dare to demand freedom from the gods and heroes of yesteryear as they fight their wars at our expense? Do you dare to stand up to those that can make our minds think thoughts that are not our own...influence the course of legal process...how is that fair to those of us that do not have this genetic blessing? How is that just!? Dare to stand against the tyranny of so-called compassion...”

The voice of the Devaronian woman, H’mann Hukland, rang out over the crowd. She was a naturally gifted speaker, not shrill, nor over bearing, but convincing in her subtly changing intonations.

”...Jedi are not our heroes...Sith are not our gods!”

The crowd of thousands responded in near unison with a rousing cry of FOR THE UNBLESSED.

__________​

Nir Oprok did not shout out with all the others. She was still nervous about the large crowd and unsure of the actual intent of The New Way, but she was here for her son. The New Way was the only way she had to speak out against the Jedi Order in any meaningful way. Her son had been a fan of the Jedi all his young life, and had gone off without hesitation to serve aboard a Jedi vessel. Apparently he had died over Draemidus Prime on a failed raid of the Bryn’adul home world. This left the widower with no one in her life. The Jedi had one his affection, and then summarily cast her son into the line of fire and a brutal death.

The emotion of the moment, and the third round of chanting from the crowd finally caught Nir up enough for her to cry out as well, “For the unblessed!”

___________​

The crowd was way too loud for Eda Boon, thusly she had covered her ears with large circular headphones. Her head bounced along to the driving beat that pulled her brain away from the noise. She was not a part of the main body of protestors, but rather was down one of the side streets, can in hand and finding her next canvas to work on. She already had black paint all over her arms from her previous art installations, but didn’t seem to care one iota.

”Not my hero,” she said as she pulled out a stencil of the Ashlan Crusade insignia, and then placed it against a shop wall. Within moments there was a plain black replication of the Crusade’s insignia, with a red circle around it and a line across as the insignia. She quickly scrawled, NOT MY HERO underneath and turned to find another target.

 

[Mattali Omenza]

She knew exactly why she came here, and it was going to get her in all sorts of trouble. It was for the opportunities. While the signs kept going on about riots and what not, the real money came in when things got crazy; but Mirinda wasn't looking to steal things, not exactly. It was more an opportunity to swipe chit numbers before store managers and the like even knew they were gone. It was a simple enough practice, one that she had gotten rather accustomed to. Typically it took a week before anyone even noticed what she had done, and by then she had made a payday. It was a bit tricky of course, finding a nice spot to set up, back tracing her info into the holonet, and making sure that things were all fine and dandy on her end. Last thing she needed was to trigger sector security on her before she got her feet wet.

The event started with the normal 'gung-ho, force users gotta go' ordeal, which truthfully Mirinda felt was pretty on point. She never much cared for the card tricks or magic jazz hands or whatever it was those people were trying to do now a days. Honestly, she just didn't care about it. What did draw her attention though, were the unusual chants she heard within the crowd. 'The Unblessed'? Now what on the four moons of Yavin was that about? Her eyebrows raised as she looked away from her datapad, her guise as a Zeltron tourist had been otherwise stellar, up until now. Was there another motive for this gathering she wondered?

She was starting to think that perhaps coming here wasn't a great idea. As much as she held dislike for the Sith, she had never thought they were akin to gods; they were easy enough to kill if you knew what to drop on them. Regardless, she began to ponder a backup plan in case this whole thing went south. After all, she was just a lone stormtrooper in a crowd of hundreds, soon to be thousands perhaps. Odds didn't look good for her, especially if those holofilms had any credit to them.

They always kill the stormtrooper first.

 

[VADM Tarsa Doon]

What a damn chit show. And yet, she had found herself here as well. Dressed in plain clothes the woman still was an easily notable figure even in a crowd of this magnitude, at a height of 6'4 she was particularly large for a human female. As usual, she reveled in that fact. She wasn't pestered by men nearly as much, and people generally stayed the hell out of her way. Her arms were folded over her chest, hearing the chants from her position but not calling out with them. Her presence here was not warranted, or ordered; what it was, could be considered taking initiative. Gauging not only the Force of this movement, but their level of unrest. Were they violent? Could they become so?

If it were up to her, she would tell everyone of these nerf herders to enlist... Though not everyone could fight. She supposed that was the whole point though. Her head turned on a swivel slowly, peering amongst the crowd not as a regular citizen, but with trained military eyes. She was looking for weapons, fighters; something she might have been able to take back to her superiors as a forewarning. Sometimes the best way to crush, or utilize a weapon was to be the first to get your hands on it.

So far, she saw the making of a huge civil unrest; with thousands gathered. This movement could gain traction, and if it did... Well, how that would work out was yet to be seen. Though one thing was for sure. Tarsa Doon was standing in the midsts of thousands of people that were desperate for change.

Desperate people, did desperate things; especially when they received off the books government funding, and military grade arms...

The diabolical gears in her head caused her to grin, the side of her lip up-curling just briefly. She glanced to her right, and frowned; breaking her form and spinning on heel. She almost didn't believe it...

Was that Rites? There was no way; she had just left her back on shore leave... Why would she come here? On one hand, it was her own business; on the other, was the (easily reversible to) Ensign apart of this 'peaceful' movement?

She stalked the other, something that was relatively easy as long as she kept a few people in between them. Outside of that, and hell even if the other did turn back in her direction; 6'4 wasn't something you hid very easily.

Bright8 Unblessed

 

[BX-4323]

​

Deadeye woke from his pseudo-sleep of the charging cycle. He checked the datalink to review the orders he had been given.

STATUS // ONLINE
OBJECTIVE // ENSURE PROTESTS DO NOT ESCALATE INTO RIOTS
CIVILIAN CASUALTIES // NOT PERMISSIBLE

The deployed commando droids fanned out to protect the markets. The scale of the protest was impressive. Deadeye knew that if the crowd started rioting, they would quickly overwhelm even his platoon of commando droids. The crowd seemed to be unarmed, but that wouldn't stop them from doing serious damage. The issue would be if some enemies of the CIS decided to arm and organize the protestors. Then there could be an uprising. And that would be unacceptable.

Deadeye heard the crowd chant "FOR THE UNBLESSED". He thought nothing of it, because he had nothing against or for lifeforms with force abilities. They tended to be more combat effective, so it might be good that this was a protest against them. Lifeform politics were always irrational and a waste of time. When they got messy, the droids had to clean up the lifeform's messes, usually by invading a planet or assassinating an opposition leader. Deadeye was hoping that there wouldn't be violence at the protest, but if there wasn't a chance of it, SCAR command wouldn't have sent the platoon at all. At least it would be a good experience for the droids under his command. They hadn't done anything like this before, but it would be good for them.

The BX sniper fireteam on top of several of the buildings began reporting back to him through the combat datalink.

WARNING // INDIVIDUALS WITH COMBAT TRAINING PRESENT
WARNING // PROTEST DEVIATING FROM PREDICTED BEHAVIOR

Deadeye replied to the snipers.

ORDERS // TRACK INDIVIDUALS WITH OBSERVED COMBAT TRAINING. ALPHA 2 WILL ASSIST

This protest would be interesting. The prediction algorithms that Deadeye had been given access to had not predicted the crowd's behavior correctly. This was no normal protest.

 

[Damsy Callat]

Damsy just kept finding her way back into Confederate space.

Dagon Kaze would kill her, or else give her a stern talking-to (she wasn't sure which'd be worse), if he found out where she had run from the sanctity of the Temple off to -- not to mention that she was hanging around other sithspawn -- but not if she got to herself first. Compromising her own values, morals, was a practice she had gotten used to, but still it annoyed her to no end. Why couldn't she stay away from the realm of her creator? Just as much had to be deeply hidden in her nature; she must be a little less sentient than everyone thought. She did have reason to be back this time though -- rooted in selfishness rather than service. If that didn't testify to her estrangement from the Vi'dreya family, nothing else would.

And what's more, sanctioned vandalism? She couldn't pass up such a chance, regardless of how that chance existed so close to the capitol planet.

”It is only because it is the way that it has been that people unquestioningly accept the rule of super powered genetically blessed individuals. . . .”

She shifted her weight from one leg to the other as she stayed leaned back against the storefront. She scoffed at the idea but directed the following rhetoric at Acantha Malvern , "Where you think that leaves us?" And their kind. The ones who had been specifically bred by the Sith for those powers. How was that fair to them either?

”...Jedi are not our heroes...Sith are not our gods!”

Another huff, but paired with the ghost of a smirk rather than that of a frown. "I'll get 'hind that, though." Pulling one foot back to the wall, she pushed herself upright. "Whachu think, Annie?"

She listened intently enough to any answer given as she dipped her head to multitask on her HUD gauntlet, patching into backdoor comm frequencies. All because she had spotted one of BX-4323 's commando droids through a momentary opening in the overwhelmingly organic crowd and was sure she would become a person of interest if they were able to identify her:

A decorated but dishonoured Confed vet.

And one of the Vicelord's daughters.

She still had a few clearances she shouldn't -- leftovers from her stints with Dauntless Legion, greater CDC, and House Verd. With them, she'd likewise keep an eye on SCAR command. Two could play at that game. Her outdated credentials would substantially limit the tricks up her single sleeve, but that just made the play that much more exciting. At least she would go unnoticed, virtually and physically, for now.

Shark and bait.

 

[Shora the Shameless]

It had been several months since Shora the Shameless had broken his chains and fled into the open arms of freedom. Though the galaxy that awaited him was far different from the galaxy he left behind, Shora had changed as well. No longer was he lost and afraid in an environment he could not understand. Prison had brought the exiled warrior to his lowest point, but in that adversity he chose to grow like a flower through pavement. He was wiser now than ever before, more confident, a little bit older too.

He had recently found a job working security for a small spice cartel on Enarc, although to be honest he was not sure if his services were much needed. The clientele here was mostly high society party goers who would be intimidated enough by Shora’s presence to hand over their daddy’s money. The work was easy and put food in his belly, but it was not the most satisfying of careers for the Yuuzhan Vong. There was a hole in his chest that couldn’t be filled from this subsistence. There must be a reason to his exile, to his pain, to his suffering. He craved for a greater purpose, one that he could choose for himself. Shora just hadn’t found it yet.

The bare-chested berserker filled his lungs with the fresh air of the shopping district. It was thoughts like these that he pondered over in his mind as he watched hundreds of people milled about their days with their own purposes in hand. He loved coming to the public square each day to watch the people coming and going. Yet something on this day was different. Whereas normally the district would be bustling with individuals floating by on their own little clouds, a silent understanding hung in the air as people started to gather around. Shora soon found himself surrounded by this force as people flooded the district carrying signs and banners and pictures of loved ones. Shora looked on with curiosity as the silence broke and hundreds spoke with the same voice.

FOR THE UNBLESSED

The unblessed. Shora couldn’t help but smile at the fitting description for himself. The chanting soon gave way for a fiery woman with a microphone in hand, her rousing speech echoed across the district and provoked some thought in Shora. The few claiming divine power to repress the many. That was a hierarchy he knew painfully well. The same injustices he felt at his exile must also be felt among the people gathered here today. These were the folks taking back their destinies.

His train of thought was broken by the meek shout coming from the Ithorian woman beside him. Shora looked down on her with pale eyes. What could this woman have in common with him? What purpose has she found that possessed her to leave her work and join this demonstration? What fire had pushed the words from her mouth?

“Why are you here?” he asked bluntly.

Unblessed | Mattali Omenza | VADM Tarsa Doon | BX-4323 | Damsy Callat​

 

[Mattali Omenza]

Given the weird vibes she was picking up, the Zeltron began to make a tactical withdraw towards the nearest alleyway, nudging through people as the hardly five foot tall woman came through with her backpack full of gizmos. It was better to be off the main streets before the fighting kicked off, besides, she had some delicate work that needed tending to. Feeling she had a little more breathing room in the alley way, she felt compelled to inquire a bit more on the situation that was gathering, and decided it best to look for concealed comm channels in the local proximity. Only one problem, the range on her datapad was rather limited, anything outside of a block it couldn't pick up unless she signal boosted it.

Which, being a good little engineer, she had on hand. Finding the cleanest spot in the alley, she sat her pack down and went to work. Pulling out several gadgets and gizmos, she began to make her little jury rigged set up. Of course, she had another motive for this as well; she had to track the network security droids after all for her chit slicing that was about to go down. Still, she had a bad feeling about this whole affair, and she just couldn't shake it. Military insurgency? A protest concealed as a secretive military action? She just had to know.

Besides, all this standing around was getting boarding. Using an empty box, some rusty crates, and a bit of ingenuity, and she had managed to hook up several different devices to her datapad, scanning for any abnormal comm traffic or signals; once that had been sorted, then she could go about making her pay day.

VADM Tarsa Doon Unblessed BX-4323 Damsy Callat Shora the Shameless

 

[Acantha Malvern]

To say she was nervous would have been a rather large understatement. Acantha had faced crowds before, but they were crowds of Illyrians. Loving and adoring and desperate to catch a glimpse of the royal. Being surrounded by them had been exhilarating, but this crowd? This crowd made her feel nervous. They made her feel on edge. The energy that surrounded them was not exciting. It was passionate, and rather scary, considering the topics they were shouting about.

Acantha jogged a little to catch up with Damsy and slipped her hand around her arm to keep her close.

When she threw a question out for Acantha to answer, she answered with a simple shrug. “I don’t think that’s fair. I didn’t ask to get created…” Not that she wasn’t grateful for the life her father had given her. Without it she would never have met Domino, or Damsy, and both were becoming fast friends. Damsy doubly so because she was the only person that was like Acantha. The two shared such a similar history that they had formed a bond almost immediately.

Once again, Damsy asked a question, and Acantha replied with uncertainty. “I don’t know Damsy…” It was perhaps a little too much for someone so new to life. She was still trying to discover what the Jedi were, and what it meant to be Sith… because like it or not, that was what she was. The daughter of Darth Malphas and a twisted offspring of the dark side itself. In fact, the latter was what they both were. Acantha threw her gaze up to Damsy, with nothing short of innocence in her eyes.

“Are they mad at us?”

Damsy Callat​

 

[Unblessed]

Interacting with: Shora the Shameless

The Ithorian Nir Oprok was merely shouting with the crowd, trying her best to blend in, when a voice came in her direction.

"Why are you here?

She looked at saw a demonstrably intimidating figure standing before her. This was her wrost fears come to fruition. She knew she should not have come, and now someone looking for trouble had singled her out. Her long, flat upwardly curving head glanced about nervously looking for who this individual had possibly been speaking to other than herself. But it was not so. His eyes were fixed firmly on her frail, work wearied eyes.

"My...m-m-m-my son died...my only child...he worshipped the Jedi as heroes of the g-g-g-galaxy," she said, voicing her thoughts for the very first time, but full accepting that she may just be about to die. Her voice hardened, with a tear forming but resolving deeping her age and grief wearied tone. "Who holds the Jedi to account for my son? For all the other sons and daughters that love the Jedi they see in holo-films and the history books...but don't see their own death coming...and no Jedi shedding a tear for them...let alone paying any price. Who holds them to account?"

____________________
​

A new chant was starting to grow as if a stone had been dropping in the pond of the crowds collective conciousness.

WHO HOLDS THEM...TO ACCOUNT?

WHO HOLDS THEM...TO ACCOUNT?

WHO HOLDS THEM...TO ACCOUNT?

H'maan was drowned out in her current speech at the head of the march with the new cries for accountability. It seemed the march was expressing itself without her help now. She turned, and asked a nearby marcher, "Who are they talking about?"

"The Jedi," came the answer from the young human female, who seemed little star struck to have been spoken to by H'maan.

She held up her hand, spun about and stepped up on the mobile platform that was hovering in front of the march, it lifted her into the air enough to see to the back of the large, and growing crowd.

"The Jedi kill children. Their own kind acknowledge this. The Jedi of old took children from their families. Their own kind acknowledge this. The Jedi conscript thousands of our unblessed family and friends to die in their wars. They send countless unblessed to be killed by an army led by one of their own, that was trained in their ways...by their greatest teachers. Their own kind acknowledge this! Jedi are NOT out heroes. They are NOT our saviours. And do you know who holds them to account?"

The crowd began to cheer in anticipation for the answer, but some already began to murmur it.

"We do! We hold them to account. Change the norm! Live and speak up for a New Way! It is time control of the galaxy was given to the oppressed masses...for the unblessed!"

FOR THE UNBLESSED!

____________________​

Interacting with: Mattali Omenza

Eda had found that the march had started to get away from her so she ran to catch up. But as she did, she noted a curious sight down one of the many alleys in the area. Crates and such had been stacked in a fashion that seemed like someone was going to try and climb up to a nearby store window? Surely that was the only reason for it.

"Hey! No looting! That's the rule! We are here to make a point and a scene...not start anything more," she said as she sauntered into the alley, her hand falling to holster under her jacket. "Put the crates back...and get back into the march."

____________________
| Damsy Callat | Acantha Malvern | BX-4323 | VADM Tarsa Doon |​

 

[Shora the Shameless]

The Ithorian woman looked up to Shora the Shameless with fear in her weary eyes, though her fear did little to lift the weight of his unwavering eyes. He continued to study the woman as she found the courage to recount her grief, her conviction growing with each spoken word to the point of shouting. Such passion took the Yuuzhan Vong by surprise, and perhaps she also surprised herself. The death of her son gave her the strength to not falter before this intimidating creature, and this strength took on a life of its own as the crowd began to take up her cry.

And so the people began to chant and their leader began to speak.

Shora broke off his gaze and turned back to the crowd, though his mind still lingered on the woman beside him. Her son had given his life for a cause he believed in, something his mother clearly did not understand. People die in war every day, and her son was lucky that he was one of the ones who volunteered for such a death. Was she angry with the Jedi for allowing her son to join the war? Or was she angry at herself for failing to convince him not to? Here Shora thought that this demonstration was about taking back the power to decide one’s own fate and yet this woman was upset that her son did so.

“The Jedi did not kill your son. Your son killed himself,” he said coldly. “Hold the Jedi to account? What are you going to do?”

Unblessed | Acantha Malvern | BX-4323 | Damsy Callat | Mattali Omenza | VADM Tarsa Doon

 

[Bastian smith]

Voice sample
An old soul sat there on a wooden rocking chair a darksider who had live through and seen enough to realize what he heard coming his way. The 8 foot 500 pound muscled echani sat there rocking back and forth playing his guitar humming a tune listening to their cry as they came a sense of light dread radiated off of him like a predator looking at prey. Even if he didn't look at any of them as they passed he sensed the two sithspawn in the crowd and their connection to the Force.

Sure the old echani-vexx had reasons to hate other force users because of all the bad they did atleast the jedi and sith where the worst offenders atleast on a galactic scale. He slowly stood up he wasn't going to do the stupid chant but atleast he could walk along give himself something to do.

Shora the Shameless @thenewway @arca

 

[Damsy Callat]

“I don’t think that’s fair. I didn’t ask to get created…”

Damsy didn't say anything to that, but she didn't have to - agreement settled deep into the creases of her mouth. A few more minutes of her silence rather than the crowd's followed. The latter might have been a climactic uproar, but a shark's hearing easily cut through it to hear the little bird next to her clear as day.

“Are they mad at us?”

Damsy took a hand out of one deep pocket in her own jacket and covered Acantha's fingers with her own. She rubbed a series of comforting circles on her backhand with her thumb. With featherlight pressure, Damsy sent telepathy dancing across Acantha's skin. Thought would knock at the door to her mind and wait patiently for invitation inside. If it was given, she would hear:

<Who? These folk or the Jedi?> Had Annie even met a Jedi? Damsy was unsure, but that was a question for later. For now, all she had was her truth, what she had come to know first-hand so far from her experience in the Core. <Don't think these folk know we're here, much less who we are, but the Jedi sure do and> - sorry Ala, sorry Dag, but sometimes painting in grand strokes was the best way to get a concept across - <are mad at us.>

Acantha Malvern

 

[Unblessed]

Nir looked offended, to the say the least, by the larger one's assertion, but she also had a clear sense of nervousness return. What could she do? But raise her voice? Her motivation for being here was clearly that of grief and anger. She took a step back away from the one that had approached her, but as she did another voice spoke up from beside her. This voice was then matched by a throng about Nir that began repeating similar lines of dogma.

"The Jedi are to blame for the Sith...and then they paint themselves as our heroes...only for them to again and again become the Sith that our children must die to defeat. This one's son simply fell prey to a system that is engineered to feed him into a mill of death and destruction. The Jedi should answer to us! Those that die fighting their failed Padawan learners..."

Shora the Shameless

 

[Teyla Sal-Soren]

S T R E E T S OF E N A R C
​

Location: Streets of Enarc, Protest
Equipment: Lightsaber, Ashlas Guard
Song: XoXo
Tag: Luca Ioneşti, Unblessed

_____________________​

They stood apart from the throngs of protestors that had come out, but remained swarmed on all sides.

As an empath, the feeling of being closed in with a myriad of emotions rolling around her, set the young mother on edge. It was all Teyla could do, scanning the crowds and exhaling in short puffs with her arms crossed, to keep herself calm. Her duties tonight were to help keep the peace; a delicate situation, given the context of the protest. Sending Knights Obsidian to oversee a rally that pleaded justice for the ‘unblessed’, seemed like one powder keg away from explosion.

But duty called, and she was obligated to her vows.

Keeper of the peace.

“I feel for them,” she told Luca, lolling her head casually to the side and glancing up at her tall companion with inky black hair. He looked as weary as she felt. Her eyes shifted back to the crowd and those speaking. “Their fear, their profound loss. The entire crowd groans with pain. Can't help but feel like there is some truth to what they say, despite it being a very narrow and over simplified point of view.."