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Public WOTU Prologue | We Are Denon Concert

Base D


District 13, "The Fractal"
The Concert Of Reveries

A dark stage. A quiet crowd. The blue hum and glow of mobile holo devices.

Probe drones quietly buzzing and dropping glowsticks and pink and blue glitter.

And the jizz music begins to play.

A soft glowing moonlight descended upon a white coffin making it's way through the crowd.

Tiny orphan hands gripped the bars on either side.

There a comes a time,

when we heed a certain call,

when the world must come together as one.

The auto-tuned songified voice of Base D, intergalatic hip hop icon, broke through the crowd as the popstar stood infront a titanic monitor displaying Senator Fal Gore Fal Gore 's face with a flowing Galactic Alliance flag behind it.

The coffin started making it's way towards the stage as the orphans carrying it hid their groans and sweat in the dark.

There are people dying,

And it's time to end a life,

It really is the greatest gift of allllll.

Pictures of Fal Gore giving a speech, debating against Chancellor Auteme who had digital clown making painted over her face. The popsinger, Base D, continued to sing solemnly as orphan children dressed in white and carrying candles began to flow in from either side of the stage.


The beat drops.


The children began swaying from side to side as the coffin made it's way up to the stage and Base D was pumping his fist and closing his eyes.




Base D, intergalactic popstar, looks directly at the camera and mouths the words "We love you, Fal Gore."

The orphan children choir joined Base D in an angelic chorus as the tiny hands of militant orphans placed the coffin upon a central dais on stage.




Fal Gore's face was plastered over the screen as many in the crowd succumbed to the overwhelming emotions during the display of the concert. Grief and sorrow overtook the crowd, as men and women reached out with their glowsticks and body glitter towards the Senator's blue smile. Several D-list celebrities, actors and musicians came out to join Base D in the chorus as they ran through it a few more times. Blow up dolls, caricatures of the Senator, floated like puffed clouds and road the crowd's hands like a surfer. Paper mache heads of the late Chiss were common, as many took a knee or continued to hold out their hands. The square meterage of orphans per capita was extremely high, contributing heavily to the awkwardly bad smell of the crowd though the glitter did have a incensed scent that seemed to be mutating into it.

Deep below the streets of District 13, the Underworld churned, as metal feet pounded duracrete, as smoke filled the air and latent desires and greed swirled in a vortex of impending causality.
Smug Slug
Truth be told, Gorba did not understand the public's obsession with this Chiss senator. He watched the concert unfold on his holo from the comfort of his private ship, Gilded Dragonet, some light years away, and frowned, nostril slits flaring in annoyance. Without looking, he reached out a hand to his side and fished in the bowl next to him. After some sloshing, he pulled out a wriggling frog and plopped it in his mouth.

The snack unfortunately did nothing to curb his annoyance.

He supposed this was why the "public" was the "public" and why he was the Kajidii of the most powerful Hutt cartel in fifty years. Their desires would never be his desires. Their thoughts too base.

Still... he did like the Chiss' beret. Maybe he would get one.

Anyway, this show had gone on long enough.

Gorba waved a hand. "Do it now."

The signal given, he would see if those on the receiving end upheld their bargain.

Base D Base D
Gorba the Hutt Gorba the Hutt

Ferro looked at Gorba thrust his hand forward as his face was buried deep in his own bowl of jawa necrotic appendages. Lapping up some of the sauce, various organisms both dead and alive slithered into the Hutt's mouth. One of the Cartel's leaders was making signals and and demanding things while Ferro, a much less statured Cartel goon, rolled behind him on his tiny vonduun skerr kyrric legs. Ferro didn't speak much, he just backed up his Kajidii and Cartel leader. Plus they had brought all the good food with him.

On the command deck of the Gilded Dragonet, Ferro stared at the screen and minded his own business for the most part. His bright blue eyes did seem to focus on the elder Hutt when his hand thrust forward, though. He wasn't really sure what it was for but the Kajidii wasn't in his position for nothing - the Hutts were vicious in their business dealings as they were provocative.
Crime Lord


".. So what you're telling me, is a couple of kids in masks, one of which even had a paint covered droid, have been interfering with the distribution efforts of Giggledust throughout the city. Kids, literal children, in masks?"

The Shistavanen rubbed at his brow in disbelief as he glanced over the reports. A scrap refinery front, destroyed. His street dealers, beaten up. Even his more high end clientele, harassed. And now he had to clean up the mess. He sighed, glancing to the other Shistavanen who was supposed to be in charge. The Hyena. Purveyor of Giggledust to all on Denon. Brought low by some teenagers.

Xyoz let out another sigh as he stood up, pulling his suit jacket from the back of his chair. He left the bloodied man where he was, dead in his chair. His gaze shifted to the droid he'd hired as a replacement for this Hyena.

"Do make sure you pick up his mess, please. I have a date to get to with my wife." Shai Maji Shai Maji would kick his ass if he was late. And given what she was now, that sure as hell wasn't something he wanted to deal with.

(Special tags to Zoar Zoar , Corin Trenor Corin Trenor , and Daisy Masudo Daisy Masudo !)
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Roleplay Judge


Gilded Dragonet
The Space Between Spaces

Hacks stood in the back of the throne room, uneasy around the cartel and her proximity to Gorba. The gargantuan Hutt fished a meaty hand into a bowl and gripped a squirming, wiggling frog. She stared as the Hutt devoured the creature in a single gulp. "Bloody hell," she whispered under her breath, and then wondered, is that how the Hutts became so powerful? They just ate their competition. It would explain why he was so fat.

She briefly wondered if the Hutt was aware of the bounty placed upon him, a bounty Hacks had directly helped facilitate for a corporate client. She knew Gorba wasn't stupid, yet he had not asked for her head. Perhaps he wanted something from her, or to use her skills and knowledge of the Denon underworld until she was of no further use and her corpse left in the nearest gutter. Or maybe he would eat her.

The seven foot slicer was forced to move aside as another Hutt she did not recognise scurried across the room on crab-like legs, feasting on food Hacks did not dare to wonder about. She had spent a lifetime living among squalor, she had seen just how desperate the poor could become when looking for their next meal. No dumpster too gross. Yet these Hutts, among the richest in the galaxy, ate worse than those beggars, and they enjoyed it.

Her plastic eyes shifted back to Gorba in time to watch him wave his hand and demand, "Do it now." She stood there, two hands in pockets, the other two at her sides, and waited.
Base D Base D Gorba the Hutt Gorba the Hutt Ferro the Hutt Ferro the Hutt
Xyoz Xyoz Hacks Hacks

Somewhere in the rafters of the venue, Yula's lips curled into a confused snarl around a lit cigarra.

"Fethin' hell, is that his actual coffin?" It couldn't be, right? This was the second weirdest concert she'd been to this week. She'd been informed that it was some sort of political rally, and right now the Zeltron guessed that she didn't really know politics.

From her vantage point, it looked more like a massive cult meeting. Maybe they were about to consume some deadly spice in a form of ritualistic suicide. That thought, along with the smoke curling into the air and rising stench made her fish the rebreather from her pocket. Snubbing the cigarra out on the durasteel beam she was perched on, Yula mumbled to herself as she fit the air filter over her face.

Her cybernetic eye whirred, a sound only heard in her own head as she began recording the festivities below.

"Least the song ain’t terrible." Her foot tapped rhythmically against the scaffolding.

Wedge looked at the flier he was given, then the stage, then back to the flier.

He needed to be either on drugs or more drunk to understand it.

But... he was already pretty drunk and couldn't even read the flier anyways. Chances were that he wouldn't even remember the concert, or what was going on. The drunk pilot moved and grooved to the music, drink in both hands.

Dual-wielding, akimbo drunk pilot, moving and grooving to the music.

Nothing better on shore leave...

He told his parents he was going to visit a museum or something while he was here.... he would. Tomorrow.
Jedi Bartender

How had Jasper ended up on Denon at a concert? That was a long and complicated story. It was set in motion by nothing more than a common criminal. While Jasper was refueling his vessel, a Rodian snatched his droid companion Pyf. He tracked the thug down, taking back his droid with little issue, but it didn’t end there. Apparently the man was working for the Consortium, who were on Denon. Jasper had seen the Hutt’s criminal empire for himself back on Varl Station. They were bad news, especially on a world like Denon. Three other thug interrogations later and the young duelist found himself here, amongst rave music and copious amounts of spice. Jasper had procured a plain-white temple guard mask, which he was using to keep from inhaling any drugs. The last thing he needed was to trip out.

The big screen at the back was displaying he image of a Chiss man in a distinctive beret and aviator shades. He had never seen this man in his life, but the crowd seemed to find the individual enamoring.

“Hey Pyf,” Jasper asked his companion. “Who’s that guy?”

Fal Gore Fal Gore ?” Pyf responded. “That’s the senator who was running for the Chancellorship. He was assasinated recently. You didn’t hear about it? It was all over the Holonet.”

“Y-yeah, I watch the news,” Jasper stammered, lying through his teeth.
“I-I just wanted to see if you knew.”

“Right,” Pyf responded.

Ignorance aside, Jasper had to keep an eye out. If there truly were Hutt Cartel representatives here, something big was going on. He needed to see what.
"I love the Alliance, not its government"
Location: CorSec Maximum Security Prison, Corellia

How the mighty had fallen. Only a few weeks ago, Eustice Mudtreader had been a staunch supporter of Fal Gore Fal Gore during the late senator's run for Chancellorship. When the Chiss was struck down by an assassin's gunshot, Eustice snapped. After decades of distrust in his own government, the once-farmer on Chandrila saw the death of his idol as conspiracy by those in power. He had attempted an assassination of his own, seeing current Chancellor Auteme Auteme Denko-Durren as a corrupt Jedi. He was stopped by security before he could fire off any significant shot and was escorted out.

Eustice was then tried for attempted murder, and was found guilty. Because the judge perceived Mudtreader's vehement faith to conspiracy theories and later statements / threats to other political offices, it was deemed he was a high security threat. The judge sentence him for 15 years at a maximum security prison, in this case he found himself held in Corellia. He was currently in the prisoner mess hall, where they were broadcasting Gore's funeral. Dressed in an orange prisoner jumpsuit, all he did was watch intently.

"Kriffin' shame. I believed in that man." He muttered to himself, "And those sleemos shot him dead. Silenced him."

The holoscreen briefly shimmered to an image of now-Chancellor Denko-Durren. Eustice's eye twitched with rage.

"Kriffin' bastitch!" He yelled at the screen before getting a warning from a nearby guard.

One day he would get out. Either by biding his time or by luck. One way or another, he would be out and get revenge for himself.....and for Gore.
suicide slum's finest
In through the roof, the Denon local traversed the rafter beams with an air of familiar indifference. Beneath the red mask that concealed most of his face, his features soured as a result of the scene below. The song, the sights, the act alone. Problematic, to say the least. Corin squatted beside Yula, thoughtless as to whether she knew he was there or not. Or even coming at all.

"I never pegged you for a Fal Gore fan." His modulated voice called with hidden eyes faced forwards, and down.

In recent times, Corin and his masked peers proved to be an issue for the local drug trade in the system. Cleaned up, or more accurately beaten up. Remnants remained, lingered, and word was it that events like this had their share of suppliers out in force. It was worth attending, even as a precaution, or so the Padawan thought before he saw it in action. Best resembled a punishment for a job well done.

Yula Perl Yula Perl

Aktur Seii

ᴀ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ




Aktur stood before a curved wall-sized, one-way reflective apartment window, as he gazed out over the Denon skyline.

Dressed in loose pants and an open Dramassian shimmersilk robe, the Crime Lord regarded the view, as he considered how he wanted to proceed. With the plans put into motion by Gorba the Hutt, there remained opportunity to capitalize on what was to come, depending on the impact of the outcome. And if things didn't go exactly according to plan, Aktur had his own contingencies in place, ones that would further his own goals in particular. It wasn't so much that Crimson Dawn actively sought to take advantage of a situation, to complicate the lives of its enemies, rather that not grasping the opportunity would be a waste.

In one hand was a cup of warm caf, still steaming, held before his lips. A sip of the bitter liquid resulted in a contented sigh. In Aktur's other hand, he absently fidgeted with a cylindrical object, metallic, with a single button. A press of said button--

* Snap-hiss *

--resulted in the lightsaber activating, the green-hued blade bright as it cast a glow in the dim room. He looked at the bright plasma with dark eyes, as he considered the weapon, even moved it around testing it. It thrummed in response. Still, Aktur had little use for such obvious and recognizable trinkets, to which he pressed the activator again and watched the blade recede, to one again cast the open living space into dim light.

From behind the Crime Lord, low voices were heard, which drew his attention.

"I may keep the lightsaber," Aktur asked, as he glanced over his shoulder. "Are you almost finished?"

Across the spacious living area, two of his bodyguards were in the process of completing a treatment of anti-stain spray on the luxurious lounge before them. There remained small spatters of blue blood on the expensive material, though that was of little concern to the Crime Lord - rather, the body in the rolled up plastic sheet near the apartment entry was. A Twi'lek, a Jedi, one that had succumbed to Aktur's... appetite. The life essence he consumed of the alien had been revitalizing, and even now Aktur still felt lingering pleasure deep within himself, as his hunger abated somewhat.

"Yes, sir," Replied Dev'us, the Zabrak who had been with the Crimson Dawn leader for many years. "Last pass on the material, then we'll dispose of the body."

With a smile, Aktur turned back to the window. He caught his reflection, noted a few spots of blood on his chest, to which he slipped the lightsaber hilt into a robe pocket, then reached across to mop up the blood with a fingertip. He licked the finger, considered, but decided it wasn't anything comparable to taking a living being's soup...

"I expect Gorba's plans have begun," Aktur muttered, as he looked to the cityscape again. He watched vehicles flying in controlled flight lanes below, as well as the lights of streets and grand walkways and bridge-ways below. "That means it's time to start preparing for our own. Contact the slicer, have the holo-recordings I requested sent to my secure datapad."

The datapad was encrypted, but Aktur was no fool, it would be replaced days from now.

Confirmation from the Zabrak was heard.

Aktur sighed again, content, as he relished in the knowledge that soon - very soon - the vigilantes responsible for the attack on the Nexus club would find their efforts severely hindered, and capacity to operate on Denon suddenly a lot more difficult...

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'Please Sir, Can I Have Some More Ammo?'
And so, the small boy, no more than perhaps a meter tall, stood there, in front of the honorable Senator Fal Gore's coffin, standing watch. He was not one for words, but he knew the blue skinned chiss in the beret (which he thought quite fashionable, he would admit) was a good man, a decent man. There were those whom mocked him, but they were just grown-up people with stunted, child-like ideals.

Toby carried with him his large slugthrower, it actually stood taller than he did when he kept it at his side. No one was really sure how he could handle the weapon, but he did. A gift from Mr. Gore. Even had an inscription on the butt;
"For Toby. A Man-Sized Gun for a Kid with a Man-Sized Heart. Fight the Power! - Fal Gore"

And so, he stood there, next to the coffin, standing watch one last time, a tear rolling down his cheek for a man who meant to much to kids like him. Kids that were most definitely older than thirteen.

The Dead Woman
Once again she was stuck without a proper gig. Two months of pathetic pay. She could barely afford to keep herself afloat, let alone send money away. She couldn't even drown her frustrations away like usual, the price for the month's food skyrocketed with the war brewing between the two superpowers. She needed a new gig, one that would pay well and pay reliably. What she wasn't expecting on this journey was the need to hunt down a crime lord that had been doing a fantastic job at laying low.

Still, one thing she still had in abundance was contacts. And one of those managed to point her in the right direction. Only problem was how she wanted to meet him. A call wouldn't do, he apparently didn't like using technology. Ceres had to admit that it was a fantastic way to keep a low profile. Almost as good as the stories that kept his men in line. Not a lot of crime lords had myths and stories of them eating those that crossed them.

It certainly didn't help her mood, but luckily it likely wasn't true. Just another tactic in the evil genius arsenal.

Her contact managed to get her onboard his private ship... he was really doing good for himself. She was going to have to thank that Shistavanen with a quality bottle of tihaar if this gamble pulled off. After carefully searching through the ship, she finally found her mark.

Perhaps those stories were a lot more true than she thought.

"Yo, big boy!" She called out to him in the hallway as she lit a cigarette. "You got a sec? Me and you got some business to discuss." She casually rested her hand on her pistol as she calmly started to close the distance. Between her skull facepaint and the confident attitude, this should go super smoothly...

Xyoz Xyoz

Crime Lord


Dinner shouldn't be too hard to get to. Xyoz fixed his sleeves, buttoning up the wrist cuffs. Expensive wrist cuffs. He really wasn't about technology or money or anything, but as of late.. Yeah. Yeah. He liked the way he looked. He pulled out a datapad, clicking the button labeled 'on' in large font on a sticky note. He had the thing programed to just show him his calendar when he clicked on.

That way he at least looked like he knew he was doing.

"Yo, big boy!"

His ear flicked in annoyance. Not at the voice. But the click of a lighter. The smell of a cigarette. His glowing eyes narrowed as he caught the source in his gaze. ".. If you're here as a hitman or something, the Shistavanen you're looking for is uh, not me?" He shrugged.

"If not, mind telling me why you're tryin' to interrupt my dinner plans before I make you dinner?"
The Dead Woman
She certainly had his attention, though his response had her blinking with surprise. In hindsight, she could see why he thought that. But when he laid out his threat, she properly recognized that she was in the deep end again. "What? No... nah not at all!" She dismissed with a wave of her hand as she stopped a few feet away from him. Though her nervous heartbeat wasn't helping to convince anyone.

"Don't worry, I ain't here to cause trouble or nothin', came here 'cause I heard you got work and you like solid people." She was talking out of her backside but he didn't have to know that. "Figured we can hit up a deal, me and you." She killed the bud against the sole of her boot, though as she was about to flick it away, she looked into his golden eyes. The bud could chill in her packet for the moment. "I'm lookin' for some proper work with proper pay, kinda tired of workin' for no-name guys if ya get what I mean." She continued as she rested her hands on her hips.

"So how's about it? You need a gun extra? I'm flexible." She offered as she stood just out of his personal bubble. She really hoped he was joking about the dinner part...

Xyoz Xyoz

Yula cringed. "Don't say pegged."

He looked too much like Dag. It was weird.

"Yeah well," She pinched the space of brow between her eyes. Can a smell still make your eyes water when you can't smell it? "Left my paper mache Fal Gore head at home."

The Zeltron glanced over to Corin, wondering if Dag had sent him either after her or to investigate the strange concert. Option 3 was most likely; he'd come on his own.

"Y'know, had no idea folks were so hot for 'em in 13. Guess this 'aint the same crowd who threw bricks at CorpSec." Her gloved fist thumped idly against the beam she was leaning on as her bionic eye zoomed in towards the coffin. Were those…child pallbearers? Force almighty. She was starting to crave whatever spice this crowd was clearly on.

"Let's grab Huttaburger after this chitfest dies down."

Corin Trenor Corin Trenor
suicide slum's finest
From beneath the mask, Corin huffed with some hint of amusement. Heh.

She could be thankful that for all their resemblance, it was skin-deep. The two differed in their core, even while some lessons leaked over into his life. Here and there, few and far between. Like Iris said, his colours portrayed angery, uncertainty, fear. Dagon was no doubt full of warm hues than the cold blues. So be it.

"It's a psycho fanclub down there." He remarked bitterly, "Breeds trouble."

Trouble became his problem. Nothing a less than traditional Jedi approach couldn't handle, that same flurry of fists and kicks. If it worked...

"Can't." The in-costume vigilane answered Yula, finally looking across to her. "I'm here on business. What's left of that giggledust mess is here, and I'll make sure they close up shop for good."

Yula Perl Yula Perl
The Shadow Fox

Location: District 13
Objective: Observe the concert
Attire: Clothing
Tags: Corin Trenor Corin Trenor / Yula Perl Yula Perl

Denon was an ever changing landscape of political chaos and power hungry criminals, an everlasting free for all for a planet that may never be tamed. Tonight, the huts were in town, and with that trouble. There was no way he wasn't going to poke his head into their business, even if it was to celebrate a dead politician.

Cartri jumped from the roof and landed in a safe place in the rafters to look over the concert below. The song was too cheesy for his liking, but it had something to hit that made him nod his head at the same time as the rhythm. When he looked across to the right he saw two other figures looking over the scene. Like him, it seemed like they didn't want to be seen. Either they were working for the scumbags or seeking a way to find out their true motives.

There was only one way to find out.

The sneaky ginger slowly made his way beside them and leaned up against the barrier that prevented them from falling to an embarrassing death. Cartri folded his arms and looked at the two, his eyes getting a better look at the pair.
"I'm here on business. What's left of that giggledust mess is here, and I'll make sure they close up shop for good."
"Well, you won't be doing much good up here I'm afraid" he piped up, his hand slowly giving them both a sarcastic wave "I hope I'm not interrupting anything here..."
Jedi Bartender

Even with his face covered, the stench of the drugs in the air was hard to stomach. Simply being in close proximity to this much spice gave him the urge to vomit. Still, Jasper pushed forward, wading his way through the crowd. Of course, he had no idea what it was that he was looking for, but he knew there had to be something, right?

“You’ve had a run in with the Hutt Space Consortium before?” Pyf asked. Apparently Jasper had never told him the story.

“Yeah,” He explained in a hushed tone. “It was a while back. I saw it’s full power back on Varl station. Money, drugs, enough firepower to fuel a small army…” Jasper paused, his insides turning just thinking about the station. He continued, “…slaves in the millions… These are the worst kinds of people in the galaxy. It’s one thing to kill innocent people, but it’s another to prolong their suffering.”

“That’s awful…” his droid companion buzzed.

“That’s why we have to find these guys,” Jasper explained.

He remembered Varl station quite vividly. There were men and women on that station who were stripped of their humanity, forced to do everything from satisfy the needs of the filth of the galactic underworld all the way to dying for their amusement. Jasper didn’t know if he wanted to even come out of exile, but seeing the Consortium’s vile nature first hand drew him back in. Even if he was just one person, he needed to be able to face such an evil. What kind of Jedi would that make him if he couldn’t?

Jasper made his way to a far corner of the space, leaning against the wall. He had tried searching, but nothing came up. Perhaps he should wait instead.

“Keep your eye open,” Jasper told his companion. “For now, we wait.”
Crime Lord


She wanted a job.

He blinked, more in surprise. Most people that snuck onto his ship were there to either try and kill him or beat him up for information on Shai. The later of which only happened once, but it was enough to make him double up on security.

Security she bypassed.

Xyoz chuckled just a little, offering a smile instead of the glare that had formed. "Alright, alright. Sure. You got past my security. What are you looking for, specifically. Wanna be my bodyguard? Assassin? Sell some dope on the streets for me? I'll let you take your pick, whatever you want."

Ceres Izner Ceres Izner