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Safe travels!
“It is often safer to be in chains than to be free.”- Franz Kafka
B L A C K • P O W E R • F I ST • B E G I N S
part iii
The Town of Woodcrest, Maryland
The Woodcrest Mall
“Thanks for coming out, Huey.”
Noam Chomsky was well into his eighties. He’d already become a respected professor at MIT when his political views had taken the forefront of a well-established professional academic resume by the time of the Vietnam War when he’d come to prominence as a dissenter to U.S. foreign policy. And, so many decades later, remained as such.
The French had a proverb, plus ca change, plus c’est la meme chose. It meant that the more things change, the more they tended to stay the same.
The French hadn’t been talking about America at the time, but their own internal politics of the era. But I can’t help think that if the shoe fits, feel free to put it on and lace that bitch up.
But, I’ve done my part. I’ve spoken the truth. I’ve preached the message of lies and misdirection... but there’s no one to listen. People turn to the news and it’s more reality television than reporting. So what’s the point of talking anymore?
At least I got Professor Chomsky to sign my copy of his book. As I turn my back and start to head out of the store, I tuck the autographed book under my arm and look back at the competing mobs of ignorance still protesting at the door. And what are they really protesting? They’re both making demands of free speech for themselves while seeking the power to deny it for others.
Eli Wiesel said, Once I thought that I could change the world. Now, if I scream and if I shout, it’s to keep the world from changing me.
I look back at Noam Chomsky.
Keep screaming, sir.
Instinct hits the moment I’m at the door. I want to put my head down and just not make eye contact as the combined political ignorance of a Democrat-Republican Wrestlemania cage match looms as the gauntlet between them.
I don’t.
I step into the valley of the shadow of ignorance with my head held high. Their boos are like a chorus ringing in my ears. Their hatred palpable, for I am proud to hold beliefs that are different from their own.
They may each claim this as the land of the free, but I am free of their claims.
Free to be who I choose to be.
I’m ten steps past them, when it hits me. Not inspiration, something literally hits me. It doesn’t hurt, but my free hand comes up to the back of my head anyway. A glance behind me reveals a crumpled up soda can, rocking back and forth as it hits the ground. The mob is celebrating and jeering.
I wonder if Lady Liberty saw this what she would think? Once, there was an American dream. A land of opportunity away from economic and religious oppression. Instead, it became a land where the oppressed could, instead, become the oppressor.
Welcome to the American nightmare.
On my way out of the mall, a toy store catches my eye. There’s an airsoft rifle on sale.
I can’t help the impulse to pick it up. To feel the weight of the plastic frame in my arms, the butt against my shoulder, and the look of the barrel-mounted sights.
Maybe this would be something that the mob would understand more than words.
Yeah. Maybe.
I put the rifle down, securing the book under my arm, and walk out of the store.
Action 5 News
Fair and Reasoned Reporting
“You’re watching Action 5 and this is a fair and reasoned Local Alert."
"Armed black youth gang at the Woodcrest Mall? This footage from an Action 5 follower is an eyewitness report."
"Here we see what appears to be a young man of possibly terrorist descent heckling an otherwise peaceful political protest."
"And this footage? This appears to be a dissident black youth meeting with known Palestinian supporter and anarchist, Noam Chomsky, a supposed New York Jew whose forgotten where he came from and should know better than to run his mouth."
"We warn our viewers at home, this next footage may be too shocking for young children. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, here we clearly see what appears to be a black gang member holding a rifle at the mall. You can see anarchist propaganda underneath his arm."
"Any Action 5 viewers who may be at the mall now are advised to take caution and immediately depart the scene. Mall security and the Woodcrest Police Department are responding."
"More information as our eyewitness reporters on the scene follow the chaos that has now erupted at the Woodcrest Mall."
If we go with the idea that Crim taught younglings from Zak's Clan (Clan Womprat), then I assume that would have included Zak? Yeah?
Being Jedi apparently meant really, really long stretches of boring, following by sudden sudden-ness.
Case in point, back in the Jedi Temple, Zak had to go through morning meditation, Republic history, astrogation, and attend a Jedi Master lecture before lightsaber practice. And, then, lightsaber practice was over in, like, boom. Done. Ignite the lightsaber, swing at a few practice droids, and suddenly it was time for physical science class.
The instructors said they got an hour of practice. Pfft. Fifteen seconds was more like it.
Now, they'd had the whole flight here. And then the whole walking here from the ship. And then Master Deja had been talking. Well, first, Master Kraytan was talking and then Master Deja had been the one talking. But, at the end of the day, it was adults talking. First to one adult, then another, then some random nerf herder on a holo-comm...
...and then the door was shut and someone on the other side was shooting at it.
The turn of events left the young Nautolan's head swimming as the transition from one moment of boredom gave way to an instant of panic. His stubby head tendrils bounced as the child jerked back involuntarily at the echoing stucco of blaster rife resonating from the door -- as the room suddenly went pitch black.
The dull, eerie red glow of the door -- heated by the blaster bolts -- gave an indication that their shelter was indeed temporary.
Okay, this was not okay. This was very not okay.
Dipping his hand into the water-resistant tunic that he wore, the boy gripped the training lightsaber that he carried. Dropping down to a low crouch, the youngling held the metal handle at the ready as he tried to recall some of that meditation-mumbo-whatever-y stuff. He thought he had a sense of where Master Kraytan was. Maybe.
And... Master Deja?
A preternatural calm transmuted the panic into a poised readiness. If he was called upon to act, Zak would answer that call with his lightsaber.
May the Force be with them.
Case in point, back in the Jedi Temple, Zak had to go through morning meditation, Republic history, astrogation, and attend a Jedi Master lecture before lightsaber practice. And, then, lightsaber practice was over in, like, boom. Done. Ignite the lightsaber, swing at a few practice droids, and suddenly it was time for physical science class.
The instructors said they got an hour of practice. Pfft. Fifteen seconds was more like it.
Now, they'd had the whole flight here. And then the whole walking here from the ship. And then Master Deja had been talking. Well, first, Master Kraytan was talking and then Master Deja had been the one talking. But, at the end of the day, it was adults talking. First to one adult, then another, then some random nerf herder on a holo-comm...
...and then the door was shut and someone on the other side was shooting at it.
The turn of events left the young Nautolan's head swimming as the transition from one moment of boredom gave way to an instant of panic. His stubby head tendrils bounced as the child jerked back involuntarily at the echoing stucco of blaster rife resonating from the door -- as the room suddenly went pitch black.
The dull, eerie red glow of the door -- heated by the blaster bolts -- gave an indication that their shelter was indeed temporary.
Okay, this was not okay. This was very not okay.
Dipping his hand into the water-resistant tunic that he wore, the boy gripped the training lightsaber that he carried. Dropping down to a low crouch, the youngling held the metal handle at the ready as he tried to recall some of that meditation-mumbo-whatever-y stuff. He thought he had a sense of where Master Kraytan was. Maybe.
And... Master Deja?
A preternatural calm transmuted the panic into a poised readiness. If he was called upon to act, Zak would answer that call with his lightsaber.
May the Force be with them.
I'm slacking with Huey. I'll have something up in the next day.
Proof that I've been playing a Gnome Protection Warrior in WoW for far too long...
I know that Corporal Lance planned on running a Kokiri as well, and I'm actually familiar with that character. If approved, I'll adjust Solan as I need to so not to contradict his vision of the Kokiri race (we've run our characters in the same game in the past, so I don't imagine that would be a huge problem. But if it is, I'm flexible).
Name: Solan
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Race: Kokiri
Non-Battle Occupation: Woodcutter/Carpentry
Height: 4'5"
Weight: 62 lbs.
Distinctive Proportions: Brilliant red hair and forest green eyes. His head seems large in comparison to his body, as is the case with humanoid children.
Frame: Preadolescent (round and reedy limbs, no muscle definition)
Description of looks: Solan looks like a young Hyrulian boy of about 9 or 10 years of age. His round face displays some childhood fat around the cheeks, which have a speckling of freckles that cross the bridge of his nose. His red hair is said to be an omen of blood and is as wild as he is. He wears the traditional woodland tunic of the Kokiri of the Kokiri Forest. For a more visual reference, picture Young Link with red hair and green eyes.
Main Weapon (Required): Replica Kokiri Sword
Sub Weapon (Optional): Buckler (Shield)
Type of Artes: Sword-and-Board, Hand-and-a-Half Sword
Fighting Style: The Tank. Solan is a Berserker with strong protective instincts, propelling him into the middle of a fight like a corgi nipping at the heels of a thousand pound cattle. Fast and nimble, Solan is comparable to a mosquito for his ability to harass an opponent while avoiding incoming blows.
Tools: Water gourd, bedroll, whittling knife, carpenter's plane, woodcutting hatchet
Physical Weaknesses: Fire, and the obvious need for food, water, oxygen, sleep, etc.
Physical Strengths: Agility. What Solan lacks in strength, he makes up for with dexterity.
Personal Weaknesses: Solan weighs less than a sack of potatoes, and he can't lift much more than his body weight. He also has the energy level of a child, so while he can sustain bursts of high activity above that of an adult in the short term, he exhausts more quickly than an adult in longer fights and requires more rest than an adult does.
Personal Strengths: Conviction (Stubborn/Pig-Headed). Solan is totally dedicated to what he sets his mind to; which is typically the defense of someone in need.
Perks: Leaving this blank for now.
Elemental Immunity: Nature.
Limit Breaker: Full on berserker. Solan throws his shield aside and goes at his opponent with violent strokes of his sword and reckless abandon, seemingly absorbed into a singular bloodlust that will only be satiated by his death or the death of his opponent.
I know that Corporal Lance planned on running a Kokiri as well, and I'm actually familiar with that character. If approved, I'll adjust Solan as I need to so not to contradict his vision of the Kokiri race (we've run our characters in the same game in the past, so I don't imagine that would be a huge problem. But if it is, I'm flexible).
Name: Solan
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Race: Kokiri
Non-Battle Occupation: Woodcutter/Carpentry
Height: 4'5"
Weight: 62 lbs.
Distinctive Proportions: Brilliant red hair and forest green eyes. His head seems large in comparison to his body, as is the case with humanoid children.
Frame: Preadolescent (round and reedy limbs, no muscle definition)
Description of looks: Solan looks like a young Hyrulian boy of about 9 or 10 years of age. His round face displays some childhood fat around the cheeks, which have a speckling of freckles that cross the bridge of his nose. His red hair is said to be an omen of blood and is as wild as he is. He wears the traditional woodland tunic of the Kokiri of the Kokiri Forest. For a more visual reference, picture Young Link with red hair and green eyes.
Main Weapon (Required): Replica Kokiri Sword
Sub Weapon (Optional): Buckler (Shield)
Type of Artes: Sword-and-Board, Hand-and-a-Half Sword
Fighting Style: The Tank. Solan is a Berserker with strong protective instincts, propelling him into the middle of a fight like a corgi nipping at the heels of a thousand pound cattle. Fast and nimble, Solan is comparable to a mosquito for his ability to harass an opponent while avoiding incoming blows.
Tools: Water gourd, bedroll, whittling knife, carpenter's plane, woodcutting hatchet
Physical Weaknesses: Fire, and the obvious need for food, water, oxygen, sleep, etc.
Physical Strengths: Agility. What Solan lacks in strength, he makes up for with dexterity.
Personal Weaknesses: Solan weighs less than a sack of potatoes, and he can't lift much more than his body weight. He also has the energy level of a child, so while he can sustain bursts of high activity above that of an adult in the short term, he exhausts more quickly than an adult in longer fights and requires more rest than an adult does.
Personal Strengths: Conviction (Stubborn/Pig-Headed). Solan is totally dedicated to what he sets his mind to; which is typically the defense of someone in need.
Perks: Leaving this blank for now.
Elemental Immunity: Nature.
Limit Breaker: Full on berserker. Solan throws his shield aside and goes at his opponent with violent strokes of his sword and reckless abandon, seemingly absorbed into a singular bloodlust that will only be satiated by his death or the death of his opponent.
For all the talk about how scary this planet was supposed to be, Nar Shadda didn't look like much.
It looked kinda like a junk barge on Coruscant, except the junk barge was the whole planet from what Zak could see. Now he understood why Master Deja said he wouldn't want to go swimming here. Everything was dirty, and the smell radiating from piles of refuse strewn along the dusty roads was a combination of rotting fish and humanoid waste. As the first wiff burned the inside of the youngling's nose, the boy shuddered with all the feeling of his skin crawling. "Eww..." the boy whined plaintively, covering his nose with both hands. "It smells like poodoo here," the Nautolan boy complained.
Being barefoot, he began paying particular attention to where he stepped.
Shadowing the two knights more closely than the adventurous Nautolan, the black haired Anzati reared his head back as though he'd just heard or seen something. Or rather, felt something. "Master, I..." Sor-Jan began, falling silent in awareness of what his own words might reveal. But the body language said what he couldn't. There was a disturbance in the Force.
While Zak didn't know anything about a disturbance in the Force -- what did that even feel like? -- the Nautolan was aware of a sound echoing from elsewhere. Another time, the youngling might have thought it was fireworks. But now he could say that it was a sound he had heard before. In the Jedi Temple.
It was a sound he wouldn't forget.
"Blasters," Zak noted, though the shooting, where ever it had taken place, had stopped almost as soon as the boy realized what he was hearing. The sound left the boy disquieted however, so he moved closer to Kraytan and Deja as they continued toward the warehouse that Master Kraytan had set out for.
It looked kinda like a junk barge on Coruscant, except the junk barge was the whole planet from what Zak could see. Now he understood why Master Deja said he wouldn't want to go swimming here. Everything was dirty, and the smell radiating from piles of refuse strewn along the dusty roads was a combination of rotting fish and humanoid waste. As the first wiff burned the inside of the youngling's nose, the boy shuddered with all the feeling of his skin crawling. "Eww..." the boy whined plaintively, covering his nose with both hands. "It smells like poodoo here," the Nautolan boy complained.
Being barefoot, he began paying particular attention to where he stepped.
Shadowing the two knights more closely than the adventurous Nautolan, the black haired Anzati reared his head back as though he'd just heard or seen something. Or rather, felt something. "Master, I..." Sor-Jan began, falling silent in awareness of what his own words might reveal. But the body language said what he couldn't. There was a disturbance in the Force.
While Zak didn't know anything about a disturbance in the Force -- what did that even feel like? -- the Nautolan was aware of a sound echoing from elsewhere. Another time, the youngling might have thought it was fireworks. But now he could say that it was a sound he had heard before. In the Jedi Temple.
It was a sound he wouldn't forget.
"Blasters," Zak noted, though the shooting, where ever it had taken place, had stopped almost as soon as the boy realized what he was hearing. The sound left the boy disquieted however, so he moved closer to Kraytan and Deja as they continued toward the warehouse that Master Kraytan had set out for.
Well, Krayten (Caboose) and Zak are in the warehouse district if your PC might have cause to be snooping around there. A human adult male, Cathar female, a human looking kid and a Naotolan youngling... So they don't stick out much!
I shall endeavor to make up for this oversight.
Is Vorloch Guardian? I thought he was Sentinel.
Sentinels are okay in Zak's opinion. They're not cool, but at least somewhere between "dude" and "nerf herder". And then there are Consulars, but Zak questions whether those really qualify as Jedi.
Edit: and wow, Vor'loch is Guardian. Man the fan club has been slacking.
Sentinels are okay in Zak's opinion. They're not cool, but at least somewhere between "dude" and "nerf herder". And then there are Consulars, but Zak questions whether those really qualify as Jedi.
Edit: and wow, Vor'loch is Guardian. Man the fan club has been slacking.
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