Friends were not easy to make for someone like the Shattered Knight. She was a brute of a woman, with no known past, who was prone to both anxiety attacks and violent outbursts. It was, perhaps, astonishing that she had managed to make an acquaintance. Somehow she had managed to find a friend in a man called [member="Aramir Eldarion"]. They had met at a group for amnesiacs, and bonded over their mutual lack of memory. The fact that they both didn't chite from others had only added to their comradery. For reasons not entirely clear to either of them, they had decided to band together, at least temporarily sharing a space. Despite her contentment with solitude, Antoir had jumped at the opportunity to travel with another individual.
After all, something about Aramir seemed to calm her. Keeping herself under control was, to a degree, easier around him. That was likely because of the similarities they shared. Though she wasn't entirely sure how he felt about her, or specific qualities of hers (such as her force dead nature). In the end that probably meant little. They were partners of sorts at the moment, regardless of how they met, or how they truly felt about each other.
For now, that meant traveling alongside each other, sharing a space, and, as just displayed, working together, even in small ways. Antoir caught the hololink with ease, mentally noting her companion's good aim. The device gave a few more beeps, blinking as it did, before stopping. A message, not a call, she thought, quietly wondering what it would be about. Quietly hoping it was a job (the money from whatever-the-hell her past life was would last awhile, but certainly not forever) she opened up the notification. Nothing about it immediately stood out to her. Whoever had sent it to her was either using an alias or wasn't very famous, seeing as she didn't recognize the name. All that she found interesting with that first glance was the subject line: Your Services Are Required.
Pleasantly surprised that it was, in fact, a job offer, she continued reading...
Your Services Are Required:
--
To the amnesiac huntress,
I have just received the news that a priceless artifact is up for grabs on the planet of Malachor V. Said relic is of major interest to me, as it represents a dead man who billions have revered over thousands of years. Though the job is not easy, it is simple. By now, you likely expect me to ask you to recover it, to bring it back to me. That is far from what I desire.
What I want is for you to go to Malachor V, claim the mask of that heathen, Revan, and destroy it. Break it into as many pieces as you dare, and scatter it far and wide. Bring Chaos to those who desire to hold that cursed item. I shall reward you with a swell sum of money, more than I have ever spent on a mercenary before. If credits are not your prefered reward, we may discuss other prizes once the deed is done.
You have two hours to respond.
Sincerely,
Agarrus Nethear
Without hesitating even for a moment, Antoir slammed the reply button, typed up a quick response, and confirmed her willingness to do the job. Personally she didn't care as much about the pay or the details of the job as she cared for the chance to do something. It had been awhile since she had landed a good, hard job, and she was itching to get back into the fray. This was an opportunity that she refused to let go of. She was going to Malachor V, one way or another, and fighting anyone who got in her way. Even if she failed her task, the Shattered Knight would soon relish the thrill of combat. A shrill sense of anticipation filled her as she moved to enter the room where Aramir was watching the holo. It only took a moment for her to realize what exactly was happening on the screen.
"I'm going there," she announced, pointing at the holo, "and I'm going to break the mask of Revan." Her eyes watched the gathered individuals with interest, tracking their movements carefully. None of them seemed familiar to her. Nor did any immediately catch her attention. Of course, she knew better than to let that change her opinions about them. They could all be deadly warriors for all she knew. Or, as part of her hoped, they could be worthy foes, just below her skill level. Although simply fighting was her top priority, she would still try her damnedest to complete the job. "If you wanna come with and punch some frakkers with me, I won't stop you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go calibrate the ship's piloting system. The sooner we get there the better."
