Dris Negan
Jedi
No.
No.
NO.
NO.
Instruments failing. Altitude dropping. Don't roll. Don't roll. Let's try to find a soft patch on this hell hole. Twenty seconds. Breaking second cloud layer. Sulfur.
Damn.
Brace.
Now we're rolling.
Rocks. Don't hit the magma. Don't hit the magma.
Impact. Darkness.
Mustafar.
-----------------
Dris Negan awoke to the suffocating air of a planet long considered inhospitable to most intelligent lifeforms across the galaxy. Rocks and glass peppered his shuttle's interior from where the ground had met viewport. Dris was lucky to be alive. Damn contacts always meeting in backwater planets that got horrible com signals. The Senior Agent groaned slightly as he unbuckled the straps securing him to his seat and slowly stood, taking inventory of his functions as he did. Arms? Good. Legs? Good. Shoulders? Good.
Dris felt like he'd just won the cosmic lottery, despite the hot air and various shallow lacerations that peppered his face and torso. He'd always been a glass half full sorta guy. Horrible place for a landing though. Dris made a mental note never to return as he double checked his slug rifle's load and exited the crashed vessel after eliminating any sort of trace of classified evidence from the shuttle.
It was a bit of a trek to the mining facility where his contact was said to reside.
Wonderful.
@[member="Steph Zenima"]
No.
NO.
NO.
Instruments failing. Altitude dropping. Don't roll. Don't roll. Let's try to find a soft patch on this hell hole. Twenty seconds. Breaking second cloud layer. Sulfur.
Damn.
Brace.
Now we're rolling.
Rocks. Don't hit the magma. Don't hit the magma.
Impact. Darkness.
Mustafar.
-----------------
Dris Negan awoke to the suffocating air of a planet long considered inhospitable to most intelligent lifeforms across the galaxy. Rocks and glass peppered his shuttle's interior from where the ground had met viewport. Dris was lucky to be alive. Damn contacts always meeting in backwater planets that got horrible com signals. The Senior Agent groaned slightly as he unbuckled the straps securing him to his seat and slowly stood, taking inventory of his functions as he did. Arms? Good. Legs? Good. Shoulders? Good.
Dris felt like he'd just won the cosmic lottery, despite the hot air and various shallow lacerations that peppered his face and torso. He'd always been a glass half full sorta guy. Horrible place for a landing though. Dris made a mental note never to return as he double checked his slug rifle's load and exited the crashed vessel after eliminating any sort of trace of classified evidence from the shuttle.
It was a bit of a trek to the mining facility where his contact was said to reside.
Wonderful.
@[member="Steph Zenima"]