Revenchent
Dungeon Master
Under better circumstances, Corin would have given the body a more honorable send-off. As things were, he had no time for such triviality. Given what the man had been, the young Mandalorian could not bring himself to particularly care about it either. He unceremoniously dumped Tarith's body onto the hanger floor, leaned down, and rummaged through his things. He removed the lightsaber, clipping it to his belt as a trophy, and the datapad. A quick scan revealed what he had been hoping for.
Grinning, Corin rose to his feet, and turned back to the ship. He scanned over the contents of the datapad as the door hissed behind him, his hand trailing along the walls for balance as the ship began to rumble. The RSF was likely tired of waiting at this point, and an invasion of the home could be expected at any moment. Corin could only hope his new associates were competent enough to get the ship moving.
With a quiet sigh, he stuffed the datapad away, and strode toward the bridge. He glanced into the bunks at [member="Tyris Hayes"] as he passed. "You might want to get on one of the guns," Corin mused, "We don't want to actually kill anyone, but shooting in the general direction of any pursuers might buy us some time."
It was a simple suggestion, nothing more, but Corin expected the old man to follow it. From there, he walked to the bridge. "To answer your question - yes, I was there the entire time. There is a compartment below the bridge that I can only assume is used for a special kind of spice party." He explained to [member="Saran Drast"].
When [member="Astrid"] spoke, Corin listened. He spared the woman a glance before settling himself into the forward gunner's position. "I told the big man to keep any fighters from turning us into Naboo's newest scrap belt. I'll do the same, but we won't be trying to actually hit anyone; just keep them off balance."
Despite what his prior actions might have implied, Corin's moral code did not allow for casual, or needless slaughter.
"Might be good for you to hop on one too, Jedi," he added, looking over his shoulder at the two women. "Get us into hyperspace as quick as you can Highlights. I'm not sure how much punishment this old bird can take."
With that, Corin fell silent. He went through the operations of warming up his guns, and leaned back in his chair, waiting.
"C'mon you old rusty di'kut. Don't screw me on this one..."
Grinning, Corin rose to his feet, and turned back to the ship. He scanned over the contents of the datapad as the door hissed behind him, his hand trailing along the walls for balance as the ship began to rumble. The RSF was likely tired of waiting at this point, and an invasion of the home could be expected at any moment. Corin could only hope his new associates were competent enough to get the ship moving.
With a quiet sigh, he stuffed the datapad away, and strode toward the bridge. He glanced into the bunks at [member="Tyris Hayes"] as he passed. "You might want to get on one of the guns," Corin mused, "We don't want to actually kill anyone, but shooting in the general direction of any pursuers might buy us some time."
It was a simple suggestion, nothing more, but Corin expected the old man to follow it. From there, he walked to the bridge. "To answer your question - yes, I was there the entire time. There is a compartment below the bridge that I can only assume is used for a special kind of spice party." He explained to [member="Saran Drast"].
When [member="Astrid"] spoke, Corin listened. He spared the woman a glance before settling himself into the forward gunner's position. "I told the big man to keep any fighters from turning us into Naboo's newest scrap belt. I'll do the same, but we won't be trying to actually hit anyone; just keep them off balance."
Despite what his prior actions might have implied, Corin's moral code did not allow for casual, or needless slaughter.
"Might be good for you to hop on one too, Jedi," he added, looking over his shoulder at the two women. "Get us into hyperspace as quick as you can Highlights. I'm not sure how much punishment this old bird can take."
With that, Corin fell silent. He went through the operations of warming up his guns, and leaned back in his chair, waiting.
"C'mon you old rusty di'kut. Don't screw me on this one..."