Wanderer
VCX Freighter Plainswalker, outskirts of the Cyrillia System
He could almost hear the characteristic "pop" of the magcon field as his ship slipped into the hangar of the asteroid base. His emerald eyes darted around, picking out the individual models of the junked starships and trashed droids which littered the carved rock floor. Yet curiously, he had not seen anyone. He deftly guided the Plainswalker to settle down next to one of the base's original medrunners, which now rested on the floor in two pieces. A slight tremor vibrated throughout the ship as it landed.
"At least you're not bad at landing this piece of junk," commented the sergeant next to him, "you can do that well."
Travot turned his head to the man and raised an eyebrow, "Better than my flying?"
The armored man nodded, "By a factor of ten."
"Always good to see the positive side of things," replied Travot, rising from his seat.
If I only actually felt that way right now. His hands sank down to either side, each of them resting on a well-worn weapon. On his left, he felt the checkered wooden slabs of his blaster pistol's grip. His right felt the cold, cylindrical form of his deceased master's lightsaber. He found the grip a little small for his liking, but he found a certain comfort in simply holding the weapon, even if he wasn't as proficient in its use as he would have liked to have been. He followed the sergeant out of the cockpit, through the hold, and down the ramp. The boarders were forming up in mixed groups of sailors and marines. Tens, a stout sailor, turned and faced him.
"You sticking with us son?"
Ravenna hesitated, "It's probably for the best. Do you have room in your group?"
"Absolutely," replied the petty officer, waving the man into their little huddle, "guys, this is Travot. Travot, this is my fire team: Kyrn, Brandei, Tips, and well, you know me, sort of."
Ravenna let a wry grin cross his face. This man...The petty officer looked at Ravenna's waist curiously, "Is that a lightsaber?"
Travot nodded, "I'm afraid I'm not very good at it yet-"
"Dude, you turn that thing on, and I bet you twenty credits that any, er...excuse my language...karker that we face is going to flee in terror. Your presence as a Jedi is weapon in and of itself."
He nodded. I wish I felt that way. I guess we'll find out how true that is soon enough...They formed up in their stack right before they entered one of the service corridors that ran deeper into the asteroid base. He fell right behind Kyrn, a broad-shorted humanoid of some sort who wore a full suit of Warden-class body armor and wielded an impressively large blaster to boot. Travot pulled Jeth's lightsaber from his belt and grasped its long handle with both handles with the Soresu grip that he had practiced so much, but had never used in combat. As they entered a dark hallway, he felt oddly at peace despite an errant thought in his head that consistently reminded him that he might die. But they have to get through Kyrn first...that should take some doing...
He could almost hear the characteristic "pop" of the magcon field as his ship slipped into the hangar of the asteroid base. His emerald eyes darted around, picking out the individual models of the junked starships and trashed droids which littered the carved rock floor. Yet curiously, he had not seen anyone. He deftly guided the Plainswalker to settle down next to one of the base's original medrunners, which now rested on the floor in two pieces. A slight tremor vibrated throughout the ship as it landed.
"At least you're not bad at landing this piece of junk," commented the sergeant next to him, "you can do that well."
Travot turned his head to the man and raised an eyebrow, "Better than my flying?"
The armored man nodded, "By a factor of ten."
"Always good to see the positive side of things," replied Travot, rising from his seat.
If I only actually felt that way right now. His hands sank down to either side, each of them resting on a well-worn weapon. On his left, he felt the checkered wooden slabs of his blaster pistol's grip. His right felt the cold, cylindrical form of his deceased master's lightsaber. He found the grip a little small for his liking, but he found a certain comfort in simply holding the weapon, even if he wasn't as proficient in its use as he would have liked to have been. He followed the sergeant out of the cockpit, through the hold, and down the ramp. The boarders were forming up in mixed groups of sailors and marines. Tens, a stout sailor, turned and faced him.
"You sticking with us son?"
Ravenna hesitated, "It's probably for the best. Do you have room in your group?"
"Absolutely," replied the petty officer, waving the man into their little huddle, "guys, this is Travot. Travot, this is my fire team: Kyrn, Brandei, Tips, and well, you know me, sort of."
Ravenna let a wry grin cross his face. This man...The petty officer looked at Ravenna's waist curiously, "Is that a lightsaber?"
Travot nodded, "I'm afraid I'm not very good at it yet-"
"Dude, you turn that thing on, and I bet you twenty credits that any, er...excuse my language...karker that we face is going to flee in terror. Your presence as a Jedi is weapon in and of itself."
He nodded. I wish I felt that way. I guess we'll find out how true that is soon enough...They formed up in their stack right before they entered one of the service corridors that ran deeper into the asteroid base. He fell right behind Kyrn, a broad-shorted humanoid of some sort who wore a full suit of Warden-class body armor and wielded an impressively large blaster to boot. Travot pulled Jeth's lightsaber from his belt and grasped its long handle with both handles with the Soresu grip that he had practiced so much, but had never used in combat. As they entered a dark hallway, he felt oddly at peace despite an errant thought in his head that consistently reminded him that he might die. But they have to get through Kyrn first...that should take some doing...