Keepin Corellia Weird
Word had went out that someone had been captured during some recent battle or the other. The only reason Ijaat really knew, or cared, is because suddenly the big dogs in the Galaxy began moving, and *fast* as all feth. And when people who controlled things the caliber of Akure Executive, ArmaTech, and more started to rumble, you paid attention. Not that you'd learn anything, really, these sort were cautious. But as it so happened, he had a few friends here and there, besides being a subsidiary of ArmaTech... And he had heard through the grapevine that the Vong were about to receive some an ass-whopping the likes of which had scarcely been seen before. And if he made his guess right, it would be by none other than that of Ashin Varanin herself...
Ashin... Now there, he mused, was a woman who was truly mando'karla, who had the right stuff... Sure, the whole Force Using, Dark Side proclivities presented problems. And the fact he heard rumors she didn't exactly play for his team complicated things. But all the holos of her, what he could find, and all the stories agreed. She was one fine woman, and indeed one who he wouldn't mind fighting beside, especially on this matter, since the whispers agreed someone, or something, that she valued more than her own life, had been taken. If there was any pain Ijaat knew, it was the loss of that cornerstone of your very being. He remembered well the day he lost his fathers beskad, or his mothers bes'bev, and even stronger the memory of his sundered family.
In his own way, he resolved to help the woman, even though she hadn't directly asked really. Sometimes you just knew that you could help, and you did it anyway. It was what decent folk did, and there were too few of those types that existed in the world now-a-days. Ashin may or may not be one by most standards. but even with the psychosis warping his mind and soul, Ijaat would be on that list, even if begrudgingly due to his boorish nature at times, and his temper.
So, since he had heard whatever was going on, he had sat down on his workshop out on Yavin 4, knowing that in order to pull this off he would had to dig into the portion of his mind Geoff haunted, digging deep into his knowledge of science and exotic creatures, studying lore he had no interest in, but that Geoff had eaten up like a child in a candy store. As he cast his mind into its own dark depths, he sat at a battered old wooden chair at an equally battered old desk, a single pull-chain "lawyers lamp" cast over the middle of the desk.
Old fashion flimsi-paper covered the desk, with a positively antiquated set of drafting tools scattered across it to boot. A graphite pencil bounced in the grip of his lips like a cigarra, and another rode tucked behind his ear for when he inevitably lost the first. A cup of stimcaff long since ceased its steaming as he scratched out what was, to others, a mess of lines meant to be a technical blueprint or sketch of some kind. Constantly he would cease drawing, turn to a pad of sticky-flims, scribble some odd equation or string of something, nod, and rip the note off the pad and stick it to whatever swiftly vanishing blank space he could find. A merry fire crackled on the creek-stone hearth, and for once, the inventor was at peace as he worked, humming a jaunty tune.
"Frequency... That's going to be key... Can't rely on just pitch and modulation and a generator.. *Everything* has to be just perfect to get it right..."
[member="Samael Rekali"]
OOC Note: Please PM for invite. Don't mind participants at all, but please do PM first unless tagged.