Farsi D'almon
PERSONAL EQUIPMENT: Armored clothes-How they look, The Mask, Just in Case Cloak, Scope- kept on the utility belt until used, Wrist Device , Pair of Blue Lightsabers, Slicing/Gaming Tool, Hard Light Weapon, The Encoil, Zerek Stowaway Node, ICE/iBorg Clarion Personal Translator
SHIP: Gray Messenger
LOCATION: Coruscant
TAG:
Allyson Locke
The Gray Messenger was parked in a public garage, taking up a far larger spot than anticipated. She had groaned at having the expense, even if she was coming to take a gander at a particular group on the planet. The Mask was partly folded, her hair falling in ringlets from the back as she used the expensive piece of tech as a quick headband rather than the infiltration device she had intended it to be.
There were many things aboard her personal craft, but apparently finding a single headband on the thing was like trying to find ice on Tatooine.
She danced and skipped around, pulling out the holo-device she kept on her from an interior pocket to look around. The flight over from Silver space had been peaceful, but she hadn't stocked the fridge of late, keeping her snacks in the private garage where she was working on her ugly ship. An oversight as her stomach growled in protest from the long travel. Her mouth drew inward, a sharp kissing sound happening as she looked over the list of restaurants and dives the planet had to offer.
From the little walkway she was on, she could easily find something just off the path towards the headquarters of the New Jedi Order.
Ripley Kühn
had been a face she had encountered previously, which had made her about as curious of the group as hearing about the judges from a holo-net board in the outer rim group. Which was why she found herself bouncing along to a tune in her head, walking slowly towards a little dive in search of the famed rancor-burger before trying to cut a path to the New Jedi Order.
She had sent a message ahead of her, to what she figured was a sort of message board for the group, announcing her intended presence to them. Even including a picture of herself for reference. Granted the peace sign and stuck out tongue might have been a bit much, though Ripley would have likely laughed at seeing it given the existential conversation the pair had shared on their job. She sang a little as she went, drawing a few looks from citizens as she waked along in the dark garb and half helmet with a chipper attitude.
"Burning cities and, napalm skies, fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes." She hummed the rest of it after drawing a particularly hard stare from what she guessed was a local authority.
SHIP: Gray Messenger
LOCATION: Coruscant
TAG:
Allyson Locke
The Gray Messenger was parked in a public garage, taking up a far larger spot than anticipated. She had groaned at having the expense, even if she was coming to take a gander at a particular group on the planet. The Mask was partly folded, her hair falling in ringlets from the back as she used the expensive piece of tech as a quick headband rather than the infiltration device she had intended it to be.
There were many things aboard her personal craft, but apparently finding a single headband on the thing was like trying to find ice on Tatooine.
She danced and skipped around, pulling out the holo-device she kept on her from an interior pocket to look around. The flight over from Silver space had been peaceful, but she hadn't stocked the fridge of late, keeping her snacks in the private garage where she was working on her ugly ship. An oversight as her stomach growled in protest from the long travel. Her mouth drew inward, a sharp kissing sound happening as she looked over the list of restaurants and dives the planet had to offer.
From the little walkway she was on, she could easily find something just off the path towards the headquarters of the New Jedi Order.
Ripley Kühn
had been a face she had encountered previously, which had made her about as curious of the group as hearing about the judges from a holo-net board in the outer rim group. Which was why she found herself bouncing along to a tune in her head, walking slowly towards a little dive in search of the famed rancor-burger before trying to cut a path to the New Jedi Order.She had sent a message ahead of her, to what she figured was a sort of message board for the group, announcing her intended presence to them. Even including a picture of herself for reference. Granted the peace sign and stuck out tongue might have been a bit much, though Ripley would have likely laughed at seeing it given the existential conversation the pair had shared on their job. She sang a little as she went, drawing a few looks from citizens as she waked along in the dark garb and half helmet with a chipper attitude.
"Burning cities and, napalm skies, fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes." She hummed the rest of it after drawing a particularly hard stare from what she guessed was a local authority.