Fabula Caromed
Belle of the Brawl
Corbos wastelands, middle-o-nowhere
When she faced the scorching volcano-pitch of the atmosphere and had to fight through dust storms, sharp crags, and roiling magma to find a place to set down her Bloody Pilgrim, Fabula knew that Corbos was exactly the kind of planet she was looking for. The average person might not have taken staring a thousand kinds of death in the face quite so calmly, but she had just returned from subsistence-camping on Vendaxa for a few galactic weeks. It was safe to assume that she wasn't "average."
Even so, Fabula made a point not to go about this one without her gear. That gear amounted to Alna Merrill's punished old toolbelt, a hydrospanner that she'd never find a use for on Corbos, and a couple of lightsabers that had lived a more colorful life than the most recent graduating class of the Jedi Academy put together. At least this time she'd managed to remember a weather-resistant datapad that she could fit into one of the treated pockets of that toolbelt. Always helped to be able to look things up without having your computer's circuits fry when it was exposed to rolling lava.
With her final preparations in order, Fabs opened the boarding ramp of her Pilgrim with a hiss and leapt out onto the surface of one of the least hospitable planets she'd been to in...quite some time. The time-lock on the door closed after she was out, properly sealing it against the poisonous air of a volcanic world.
Fabula didn't seem to notice that "poisonous air" thing. Or the "volcanic world." When she landed, she stood up in a dramatic stretch and fluffed her hair out behind her. Unlike with Tatooine, she'd prepared herself properly with meditation on the world's conditions, charged her blood, her skin, even her lungs with the Force in ways that no Jedi could possibly hope to understand. She wasn't just using the Force to cool herself, or "joined with" the Force in some sort of half-assed placation of proper meditation.
She was the Force, and the Force could not be so easily inconvenienced by a hot day and a little dust.
When she finished her stretch, Fabula looked around and started walking towards the edge of the plateau she'd landed on. A dangerous planet like this would be plenty of a workout on its own, but she hoped she'd at least find one or two monsters that were insane enough to have attempted to evolve on a desolate rock like this. If not...well, she could probably find a good rock island in the middle of a lava river to meditate in. Or maybe she'd go fight a kung-fu duel with a rockslide. That sounded fun.
@[member="Rave Merrill"]
When she faced the scorching volcano-pitch of the atmosphere and had to fight through dust storms, sharp crags, and roiling magma to find a place to set down her Bloody Pilgrim, Fabula knew that Corbos was exactly the kind of planet she was looking for. The average person might not have taken staring a thousand kinds of death in the face quite so calmly, but she had just returned from subsistence-camping on Vendaxa for a few galactic weeks. It was safe to assume that she wasn't "average."
Even so, Fabula made a point not to go about this one without her gear. That gear amounted to Alna Merrill's punished old toolbelt, a hydrospanner that she'd never find a use for on Corbos, and a couple of lightsabers that had lived a more colorful life than the most recent graduating class of the Jedi Academy put together. At least this time she'd managed to remember a weather-resistant datapad that she could fit into one of the treated pockets of that toolbelt. Always helped to be able to look things up without having your computer's circuits fry when it was exposed to rolling lava.
With her final preparations in order, Fabs opened the boarding ramp of her Pilgrim with a hiss and leapt out onto the surface of one of the least hospitable planets she'd been to in...quite some time. The time-lock on the door closed after she was out, properly sealing it against the poisonous air of a volcanic world.
Fabula didn't seem to notice that "poisonous air" thing. Or the "volcanic world." When she landed, she stood up in a dramatic stretch and fluffed her hair out behind her. Unlike with Tatooine, she'd prepared herself properly with meditation on the world's conditions, charged her blood, her skin, even her lungs with the Force in ways that no Jedi could possibly hope to understand. She wasn't just using the Force to cool herself, or "joined with" the Force in some sort of half-assed placation of proper meditation.
She was the Force, and the Force could not be so easily inconvenienced by a hot day and a little dust.
When she finished her stretch, Fabula looked around and started walking towards the edge of the plateau she'd landed on. A dangerous planet like this would be plenty of a workout on its own, but she hoped she'd at least find one or two monsters that were insane enough to have attempted to evolve on a desolate rock like this. If not...well, she could probably find a good rock island in the middle of a lava river to meditate in. Or maybe she'd go fight a kung-fu duel with a rockslide. That sounded fun.
@[member="Rave Merrill"]