Star War StoryTeller

Ulysses' Divide

Ventress rolls her eyes, as she says. "Not interested." Before focusing on where the log would be played.

There were some mighty inhospitable places in this world even before the war. Deserts that could sear the life from a man as fast as any radioactive crater, rivers so polluted they'd catch fire, and lawless lands ruled by brutal fanatics. It was a bad enough place that some people even looked forward to the apocalypse; a chance for humanity to start over and build a new society that was worthy of its people's loyalty.

*Shows a desert, dry, barren, rusty vehicles dot the background, while a tumble weed passes by, then a cloudy, rec colored sky with a burning sun high above, sand particles fly into the air. Then shows a wasteland scene, a dead body against a car, the body is missing the head, then shows a river that has a miasma rising from it, before a building on the half way up the edge of a cliff, that suddenly breaks and falls down into the canyon it was over.*

Bo slowly nods her head. "Sounds like some of the hazard worlds I've visited."

Satine spoke with a voice of sorrow, "or some worlds of mandalore."

Merrick shook his head, his hand reaching up and rubbing his neck. He remembered traveling from the domed cities, the lands beyond them were dry, arid, and when winds came, they could kill if you were stranded.

Vizsla was nervous, the Clan War was one where horrors were common, many people did have to start over, after the destruction of their old ways.

Vizsla and Merrick both understood this, they understood how the end of their way of life, hiding it, or putting it aside. Their worlds were shaped by the clans, and now, they were gone

There are some folk who are proud to wear the flags of the new societies that have appeared in the aftermath. The Brotherhood, the Enclave, New California Republic – even some slaves in the Legion who are proud of the bull symbol embroidered on their clothes. But the flags of the old world are still out there for travelers who care to look. The red, white and blue, and the stars and stripes appear all over the Mojave. They're a code. A message for someone. Can't say who they're for, but the man who made the marks isn't shy about making his presence known.

*Shows a the flags of the groups as they are named. The brotherhood is motionless banner underground. The Enclave is lazily flapping in the wind on a pole. The NCR hangs in a large room, as people argue over something. The red bull is drawn on the back of a slave, carrying heavy boxes. A board with a symbol of stars and stripes is painted*

Ventress just shakes her head, "symbols are not everything. One can change their allegiance to another flag unless they truly believe and support it." She herself having been taken from her home, used as a slave, raised by a jedi, only to end up as she is now. Nothing more than a hired gun working for the highest bidder.

Grievous, the cyborg general of the CIS, had knowledge, and understanding of this. He had been under many flags, of his clan, then his species, the Banking Clan, now he was under the CIS flag. Serving them as a soldier. He was angry now, so many names, for the same role, a butcher.

He traveled throughout the Mojave as a messenger of the Mojave Express out of Primm, concealing his role as one of Caesar's Frumentarii. He calls himself Ulysses. That's a name from the old Roman times, and one that belonged to a general who fought in one of America's most bitter wars: Ulysses Grant. The Mojave's Ulysses named himself after this general, a hero who united two nations under a single flag. America's flag on his back is a symbol of that dedication.

*The mysterious flag bearer stands before a building with "Mojave Express" on it's roof. It then shows the backside, as he is facing towards the wasteland*