Record of Rebellion

We have endeavoured to consolidate the personal journals of the good Baron. Though heavily encrypted, our experts have tirelessly laboured to bring light to this Record of Rebellion on Balmorra, and our goal is to preserve for All Time this story worth telling. Entries are dated by the Great ReSynchronization, as recorded by the Baron. For those unfamiliar, 35 GRS = 0 BBY. We have preserved the Baron's timing for the sake of authenticity, despite any perceived discrepancies in the Galactic Timeline.

~KT, SR & KBI

It has begun. Compatriot left yesterday - I could not force her to stay home - and I made the promise to her. After years of false loyalty, of towing the line, and building my reputation as a tame, reliable Peer of Balmorra, I will begin to strike back. Subtle, slow, but steady resistance is the surest way to free us from Imperial oppression.

Her friends in Corellia had sent a message earlier this week - the Corellian Treaty is signed, and while Balmorra is too far away from the rest of this Alliance for them to fully support us, she has promised to connect with me regularly.

I cannot do this alone. Marv, Father's former head chef, has discovered catacombs beneath his cantina. There is only one small room excavated, but Balmorrian lore tells of a network of tunnels. If we could tap into the system, we would have a vital tactical advantage over the Imps.

Tor-nenko, my good friend, is willing to join my Resistance. His access to supplies and aptitude for engineering will be invaluable in the coming years. This is not going to be a quick fight. But there is hope.

Dear Compatriot - we risk our lives not just for Father & Mother and Tomas, or even Balmorra, but for all those who have no hope and no future throughout the galaxy. Lofty words… but what do we have left apart from ideals?

Over a year of struggling to start a movement, and little to show for it. Most of the Peers are too complacent now - the fiery rebels disappeared exactly 15 years ago. No wonder I am depressed.

I will always remember my father's booming voice in the Assembly when I was 10; I was hidden in the second balcony and was so proud to be a Swift. My mother spoke next, and her dulcet tones pulled at my heart - how could we not throw off this yoke of oppression? And we were all united. How could we not be? The Republic had shown its true colours and was no longer an institution of democracy! Freedoms had been eroding for years, more noticeably here in the Colony regions at the edge of the Core.

And then, 15 years ago today, I was at the holovids; distracted by… Her. It was complicated, and I still do not know if I could have helped had I been with Father, Mother and Tomas. The betrayal haunts me. The leaders of the dissident Peers, rounded up.

Later that evening She tried to turn me, not realizing my strength of will. I had no choice! It was my death or hers. Or becoming one of them - a slave that enslaves others. The Force was with me; a feint, she fell, and somehow I avoided attention and escaped. Or have I escaped?

Two lessons were learned that day: the Empire is much too strong to be fought directly, and the sweetest face may be the deadliest poison.

I met an interesting Duro today. He was tall, strong, and beaten nearly to a pulp. Marv called me into the safe house, and I helped bandage the poor fellow. Turns out he hates the Empire, and has been chasing Death for many years, but Death has eluded him. Perhaps the Force has reached him first.

Sprend Stormflight will be a great help - his hunting skill surpasses any I have come across outside the Imperial Military. I think he is willing to follow the plan - obviously direct assault has not worked for him. But I promised him that before long we will have a chance to truly strike back, and the Empire will burn. I just hope he does not burn with it.

Just what we needed. What I needed. It looks like the Force has brought us some excitement, in the form of a gregarious Twi'lek named Dash. It is a risk, but I cannot deny his enthusiastic contributions to our cause.

He almost ran me over with his brand new speeder a few weeks ago. He stopped to see if I was hurt, and instead of insulting him (though I felt like it) I complemented his custom mods. He was surprised - probably not his typical response. He didn't realize I was trying to pry out of him his home address so I could deal with his parents. If I had yelled he would have just escaped.

It turns out he has a well-connected family, as well-connected as Twi'leks can be under the Empire. And from the first, he did not hesitate to show his rebellious nature.

I do not want to merely use him, however. He may be young and spoiled rotten by his parents, but he has an idealism about him - an air of hope and a desire to correct the wrongs of our society.

We have met fairly regularly since then, and I find myself growing attached to him. Dash reminds me of Tomas; had he lived, they would be almost the same age…

I will take this opportunity to be a big brother. And this time, I will not fail him.

Damaria Marsand. An unexpected pleasure arrived at the cantina this evening; beyond a mere beauty gracing us with her presence - only a fool judges character by the outward shell of a soul, and I refuse to be that fool again…

My rhetoric was on target tonight. After the last strains of “Ode to Autocracy”, I launched into a particularly sharp toast to the Governor, “lauding” his iron-handed approach in ending the dangerous threat of unofficially-organized team sports in the community. After all, that could lead to mixed teams, which would give non-humans a twisted sense of entitlement. Imagine the chaos that would ensue!

The regulars were there, along with a few new officers, including Ms. Marsand, and while several of the keener officers nervously glanced to one another, the most loyal and thick Imps chimed in and toasted with gusto.

My efforts were rewarded afterwards. A cautious knock at the green room door, and she asked for a word. That word turned into an hour of careful conversation, a waltz of cautious phrasing and metaphor to avoid falling into an Imperial trap. I am rather proud of my ability to discern a good spy; they have a certain look - a false transparency, a modest eagerness. And in the case of beautiful spies, they always leverage their flesh when the target is young (relatively speaking).

She failed on all three fronts - Damaria was obviously holding something back, which is her right; her gaze was nervous and uncomfortable, as if she was afraid to be caught; and her clothes were on the rugged side - utilitarian but tasteful.

But it was not from my calculating reason that I chose to ask her to join. There was something else that resonated from her that caught my attention. I cannot place it, but I instinctively felt that she has the potential to help free Balmorra. And perhaps more? She mentioned the Force, and seems to sense my hidden abilities as well.

I awakened this morning in a sweat. My heart took several moments to regulate, still pounding from the vivid dream. I cannot remember the content, only the terror of torture and capture. Perhaps it is an omen.

The day went well - tea with Baron Telmarr, another reluctant dissident. But he is unwilling to act at all, clinging to the vestiges of his wealth. At least I can trust that he will not turn on us - I discovered his son has joined Compatriot off-world. Compatriot also recently sent me an encoded message that a Shistavanen is on his way to Balmorra, and may be amenable to joining our Resistance. That intelligence network is impressive! We'll be keeping an eye out for him.

I spent the evening in the cantina, and Marv passed on vital intel. Two acquaintances, though disconnected to our group, have been uncovered by the Imps; Chulo and Grexi Takka run a printing press downtown, and this rodian family has been secretly distributing anti-Imperial propaganda.

Marv overheard Officer Madar mention that the raid on their house was going to happen just before midnight tonight. He was complaining about late shifts. I'm going to assemble our squad immediately and we will try to sneak the Takkas out. They will have to lay low at the safehouse - if we get lucky we may be able to salvage some of their equipment, but I am assuming that their office will be guarded.

I think my role will be delaying Madar by performing tonight. He is particularly fond of the Balmorran Blues.

May the Force be with us.