Noah Corek
Cocked, Locked and a Smoking Barrel
Illum
Southern Hemisphere
Near the Equator
Noah shivered even beneath the many layers of his bodyglove and armor of his personal Beskar'gam, the cold of the ice planet being one of the few things able to pierce the beskar exterior. He stopped mid stride and looked back at the squad currently with him. These particular men and women of the Galactic Foreign Legion were from the organizations 8th Regiment, the Frozen Chosen, legionnaires specially trained to fight in the coldest and most frigid of environments. As such many of them wore equipment suited to said environments including snow shoes attached to their armors boots and full length ponchos in arctic camouflage over their armor to help them blend in.
The reason they were there was a rather simple one: they had been paid. Well there was more to it to that but at the end of the day that is what it came down to. They had been hired by the local authorities to find and hunt down a group of less scrupulous mercenaries that had been harassing locals in the system and neighboring systems from their base on the remote world. Looking forward once more he brought his borrowed rifle to his shoulder and looked through it's scope searching the landscape for any indication of sentient life.
No such indication was forthcoming and so he lowered the rifle and began trudging forward once again, intent on finding aforementioned mercenaries, removing them from the equation and then returning home to what he hoped was rest and relaxation, preferably with a hot drink and a warm fire in his study's fireplace with a magazine about 'The Galaxy's Cutting Edge Weaponry' across his lap.
Southern Hemisphere
Near the Equator
Noah shivered even beneath the many layers of his bodyglove and armor of his personal Beskar'gam, the cold of the ice planet being one of the few things able to pierce the beskar exterior. He stopped mid stride and looked back at the squad currently with him. These particular men and women of the Galactic Foreign Legion were from the organizations 8th Regiment, the Frozen Chosen, legionnaires specially trained to fight in the coldest and most frigid of environments. As such many of them wore equipment suited to said environments including snow shoes attached to their armors boots and full length ponchos in arctic camouflage over their armor to help them blend in.
The reason they were there was a rather simple one: they had been paid. Well there was more to it to that but at the end of the day that is what it came down to. They had been hired by the local authorities to find and hunt down a group of less scrupulous mercenaries that had been harassing locals in the system and neighboring systems from their base on the remote world. Looking forward once more he brought his borrowed rifle to his shoulder and looked through it's scope searching the landscape for any indication of sentient life.
No such indication was forthcoming and so he lowered the rifle and began trudging forward once again, intent on finding aforementioned mercenaries, removing them from the equation and then returning home to what he hoped was rest and relaxation, preferably with a hot drink and a warm fire in his study's fireplace with a magazine about 'The Galaxy's Cutting Edge Weaponry' across his lap.