The once beautiful world of Tund had been poisoned, irradiated, and victimized by a calamitous natural disaster which brought down entire civlizations. The millenia took their toll on her soil. Yet destruction and life were ever an intertwining harmony, only seen so upon the broader scale of the universe. The time of desolation was at an end. A new age dawned for the citizens of Tund. Half the world stands green once more, terraformed throughout the great darkness, though slowly. Its beauty would one day be restored. Unless chaos came again to Tund.
It was on this strange, half-brown, half-green world that Mikhail Shorn travelled. The Empire needed an envoy to be sent to Tund. A few sorcerers were no doubt left upon the planet. Hiding. Somewhere. Shorn would find them, eventually. For the time being, he dealt with local authorities. The toongs were... an odd race. Anti-social and well, just really odd looking. Fugly, Mikhail thought darkly.
He exited the council hall in a sour mood. These toongs were extremely hard to deal with. They made him sit through not one, not two, but three full "questionings." More like interrogations in his mind. He was due for another one in half an hour. That was the other thing, they made him sit in the waiting room as if he was in line for a doctor's appointment. Minus the incessant coughing, crying children, and terrifyingly stark decor. In fact, he noticed that there were only two people in the waiting room. Himself and one other person.
Shorn seated himself, crossing his arms. His dark leather jacket creaked. Darkness hovered about him like a cloud. A raincloud. Stormy and discontent. Who knew, maybe he would start throwing lightning and complete the analogy. His pale blue eyes stared harshly at the tiled floor before moving over at the woman. He sensed... oh great. You have got to be kidding me.
Pale eyes met the woman's own.
"And what, exactly, would the Jedi be doing on Tund?"
@[member="Katarine Ryiah"]
It was on this strange, half-brown, half-green world that Mikhail Shorn travelled. The Empire needed an envoy to be sent to Tund. A few sorcerers were no doubt left upon the planet. Hiding. Somewhere. Shorn would find them, eventually. For the time being, he dealt with local authorities. The toongs were... an odd race. Anti-social and well, just really odd looking. Fugly, Mikhail thought darkly.
He exited the council hall in a sour mood. These toongs were extremely hard to deal with. They made him sit through not one, not two, but three full "questionings." More like interrogations in his mind. He was due for another one in half an hour. That was the other thing, they made him sit in the waiting room as if he was in line for a doctor's appointment. Minus the incessant coughing, crying children, and terrifyingly stark decor. In fact, he noticed that there were only two people in the waiting room. Himself and one other person.
Shorn seated himself, crossing his arms. His dark leather jacket creaked. Darkness hovered about him like a cloud. A raincloud. Stormy and discontent. Who knew, maybe he would start throwing lightning and complete the analogy. His pale blue eyes stared harshly at the tiled floor before moving over at the woman. He sensed... oh great. You have got to be kidding me.
Pale eyes met the woman's own.
"And what, exactly, would the Jedi be doing on Tund?"
@[member="Katarine Ryiah"]
