[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/211009/534a05ecfec5d1c440d4f2f68827d13c.png[/img][/center][hr]A teeming mass of wretched scum hidden behind a thin veneer of civility. Haggling merchants, pompous guards, a mass of beings getting by without a care for their fellows. It was the same everywhere civilisation touched, permeated the air. Everyone one of these beings were alone in their shells. [i]Ghorfa[/i] may be made up of solitary tribes but there was still community. The children would be taken care of, the elders willing to wander the dunes so that they saved their burdens from the young. The men had purpose in hunting and the women purpose in gathering. Urr'argh could admit that it was a harsh and frugal life that his people lived but there was a reason many of the [i]kurantt[/i] did not leave. They knew what waited for them out there beyond the stars, heard stories of the chaos. And now, his people have been forced into this wretched galaxy without their free will.

The Tusken clenched his fist at the sight of a beggar child, some small human squatting next to a bar's entrance. None could see his frustration as he was wrapped under a thick black cloak. It was obvious he was sporting unique clothing and slugthrowers, as well as being a unique sight out of Tatooine. There was no need to attract attention. Since the walking Krayt dragon and his comrades had saved him, he had since gotten separated from them in the masses. He still held some grievances towards them for not saving every one of his people and mourned for those he lost.

[i]Failure.[/i] His mind would whisper. Urr'argh simply shook his head and tried to walk with his shoulders straight. He would find a way to save his people. Breaker of Chains, they would call him. [i]Ghorfa[/i] do not need civilisation to prove themselves superior. 

He bent down as he came to the small human child, removing a black melon from inside his cloak. Urr'argh cracked it open in front of the child, the sweet smelling black smoke rising from within. The child seemed to crinkle its nose in a strange way. These barefaces have always had a strange reaction to the sweet [i]Ghorfa[/i] fruit. The child squinted at him and he merely tilted his head. Desperation seemed to win over whatever emotion that was and the child started drinking the black melon's nectar. The leader of his people stood, ruffling the child's hair in a way he had seen the elders do with the [i]Uli-ah[/i].

Urr'argh's small moment of reminiscing was interrupted by the crackle of technology. He peered at the screen within the bar as civilisation seemed to come to a close above this ship. He hissed at the sight of the raider. Such disregard for order, for the "civility" that these spacefaring races seemed to hold over the primitives. The horrors of this galaxy only seemed to grow which only fuelled him his desire to remove his people from the hands of these wretched people. 

The Wanderer shooed the human youngling away, scanning the crowds which surrounded him. Panic, chaos, fear. All of these pathetic things seemed to rise from their masks. Disgusting. He would not become bound to another because of these panicking, sorry excuses of sentient life. He needed off this ship before those raiders could fully consolidate their hold on it. Time to use his leadership to whip the rabble into shape. 

Entering blank rounds into his shorter rifle discreetly, Urr'argh then fired into the air among the masses, now next to an old greying human merchant. Three sharp [i]cracks[/i] were heard, smoke rising from the barrel of his slugthrower. People seemed to freeze around him and only inched away further when he let down his hood. An unknown mask holding an unknown face. 

The primitive roared, slamming his rifle's butt on to the hard metal floor. He hated speaking to such beings but needs must. He transferred his frustration and hatred into his speech. [color=darkkhaki]"You wretched excuses of flesh, scurrying like scared womp rats. These raiders come to take your livelihoods and freedoms that you desire, the reason you dwell in this miserable shithole of a ship. They come to take your wealth, your belongings, your persons. And you run, like pathetic [i]Jawas[/i], mewling on your knees like babes."[/color] He whirled his attention to a nearby Twi'lek, unclipping his [i]gaderffi[/i] and pointing it. 

[color=darkkhaki]"Will you fight for your right to live as you wish?"[/color] Urr'argh moved to another, imagining the faces of his people rather than these aliens. 

[color=darkkhaki]"Will you fight against the oppresive yoke of the outsider, coming to take your work away?"[/color] In his eyes, he saw a Tusken cheer, raising his cyclonic rifle in the air.

[color=darkkhaki]"Will you let these whoresons and waste of breath step over you like you're slaves? Let them take what they want, no regard for your being?!"[/color] The imaginary [i]Ghorfa[/i] seemed to move now, more confidence in the air. There was fire in Urr'argh's movements as he cracked his neck with a viciousness that vanished his self-hatred.

[color=darkkhaki]"Fight for your lives, damn you, or let yourselves be taken to the wastes by those better than you!"[/color] There was more movement now, more rifles- no, [i]blasters[/i] raised in the air. Others seemed to continue on, lowering their heads in submission. Warriors had raised their chins at his call. Urr'argh almost felt bad as he slinked next to a merchant's stall, letting the rage spread. A warrior's spirit, these beings seemed to possess. He would use it to escape and find his people, let it not go to waste.