9-LOM
Character
Golbah, the capital of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, held safely under the thick atmosphere of Geonosis. Like a diamond in the desert, it sits in great contrast to its surroundings.
On the outskirts of this great city, where the gleaming glass and metal is a mere twinkle on the horizon, the small shadow of a one-man craft sets down. A boarding elevator extends downward from beneath the Dianoga-class fighter, releasing a tall shadow from its cockpit.
Near the fighter, a small cluster of three, rocky spikes jut from the orange plains. Holes decorate the spikes like entrances for a large, bug-like creature. Indeed, these creatures are Geonosians, the native intellect of this world.
9-LOM looks at the familiar rock-paste spires as they draw nearer, domiciles shaped through the use of soil and gooey excretions of the Phidna parasite. This location is owned by one such farmer of said creatures. A yellowish glow, likely created by the luminescence of the phidnas' carapace, shines from within one of the spires, visible through its many perforations – no doubt the farmer's hydroponic garden, where it breeds its parasites for the rest of its kind. Standing in front of the central spire, the Geonosian farmer whom Nine has come to transact with awaits the droid with the stillness that only an insectoid creature has.
Nine's high-collared, synthlatex cape floats heavily behind them as they approach the Geonosian. The LOM-class droid exterminator has come by contract to the location for information from the client, Bolzic Kiggle, on an aggressive roga infestation in the subterranean channels connected to the hydroponic garden. It wasn't a difficult job by any means, however what was simple to Nine might come with a glaring caution for others. The element which this droid has been long weathered in dealing with – dangerous wildlife. With that said, the mission itself wasn't meant to be simple. The roga are an average threat in greater numbers – which they're always in – but an Alpha roga, basically a much larger version of its typical kind, would serve as a commendable trophy for presentation to CIS command. And that was what this mission was all about. Approval.
Nine stops in front of the Geonosian. It leans patiently, without the slightest movement, against its staff. The alien stands a few feet small of the droid's height.
“Krrrlg-zat g'nok troi unnng-nat z'roi!” Kiggle sputtered in its Geonosian dialect at the droid.
“Kruul-don drrl k'noi rrrrol zia umdac.” Nine buzzed back in the native tongue – it was programmed for protocol after all.
Kiggle's wings twitched behind its back, and it turned around on its taloned feet, and began walking toward the far left spire. 9-LOM followed closely behind, stooping to enter the rocky interior. In the center of the large, circular room, lay a carved pool of thriving, glowing insects. The pool was inlaid in the floor, giving the farmer space to operate the alien machinery that coated the walls. The phidnas' small pincers grabbed excitedly, yet in futile against a grid of metal bars that locked them beneath the two visitors.
Kiggle flicked its wings and buzzed across the room, then began unlocking a heavy metal trap door. It swung open. Orange, stone stairs plunged into shadow; the sight which was before Nine, as they stood there looking downward, reminded the droid something they had forgotten about the Geonosians – they lived mostly in shadow, and in underground tunnels. They didn't need the light, nor did they need the practicality of planned interior/or layout. They could see perfectly in the dark, and navigated the nightmare subterrain tunnels by use of pheromone. Nine could perform the former, but radar would need to be utilized for navigation.
“Nik lun taaw'dac, Uruuuka len'dek krrrr!” 9-LOM threatened the farmer before pulling out their SE-14c blaster pistol, and walking down stairs, their mechanical joints sounding as they descended into the dark.
The comment roughly translated to, “Leave the door open, or I double the price.”
On the outskirts of this great city, where the gleaming glass and metal is a mere twinkle on the horizon, the small shadow of a one-man craft sets down. A boarding elevator extends downward from beneath the Dianoga-class fighter, releasing a tall shadow from its cockpit.
Near the fighter, a small cluster of three, rocky spikes jut from the orange plains. Holes decorate the spikes like entrances for a large, bug-like creature. Indeed, these creatures are Geonosians, the native intellect of this world.
9-LOM looks at the familiar rock-paste spires as they draw nearer, domiciles shaped through the use of soil and gooey excretions of the Phidna parasite. This location is owned by one such farmer of said creatures. A yellowish glow, likely created by the luminescence of the phidnas' carapace, shines from within one of the spires, visible through its many perforations – no doubt the farmer's hydroponic garden, where it breeds its parasites for the rest of its kind. Standing in front of the central spire, the Geonosian farmer whom Nine has come to transact with awaits the droid with the stillness that only an insectoid creature has.
Nine's high-collared, synthlatex cape floats heavily behind them as they approach the Geonosian. The LOM-class droid exterminator has come by contract to the location for information from the client, Bolzic Kiggle, on an aggressive roga infestation in the subterranean channels connected to the hydroponic garden. It wasn't a difficult job by any means, however what was simple to Nine might come with a glaring caution for others. The element which this droid has been long weathered in dealing with – dangerous wildlife. With that said, the mission itself wasn't meant to be simple. The roga are an average threat in greater numbers – which they're always in – but an Alpha roga, basically a much larger version of its typical kind, would serve as a commendable trophy for presentation to CIS command. And that was what this mission was all about. Approval.
Nine stops in front of the Geonosian. It leans patiently, without the slightest movement, against its staff. The alien stands a few feet small of the droid's height.
“Krrrlg-zat g'nok troi unnng-nat z'roi!” Kiggle sputtered in its Geonosian dialect at the droid.
“Kruul-don drrl k'noi rrrrol zia umdac.” Nine buzzed back in the native tongue – it was programmed for protocol after all.
Kiggle's wings twitched behind its back, and it turned around on its taloned feet, and began walking toward the far left spire. 9-LOM followed closely behind, stooping to enter the rocky interior. In the center of the large, circular room, lay a carved pool of thriving, glowing insects. The pool was inlaid in the floor, giving the farmer space to operate the alien machinery that coated the walls. The phidnas' small pincers grabbed excitedly, yet in futile against a grid of metal bars that locked them beneath the two visitors.
Kiggle flicked its wings and buzzed across the room, then began unlocking a heavy metal trap door. It swung open. Orange, stone stairs plunged into shadow; the sight which was before Nine, as they stood there looking downward, reminded the droid something they had forgotten about the Geonosians – they lived mostly in shadow, and in underground tunnels. They didn't need the light, nor did they need the practicality of planned interior/or layout. They could see perfectly in the dark, and navigated the nightmare subterrain tunnels by use of pheromone. Nine could perform the former, but radar would need to be utilized for navigation.
“Nik lun taaw'dac, Uruuuka len'dek krrrr!” 9-LOM threatened the farmer before pulling out their SE-14c blaster pistol, and walking down stairs, their mechanical joints sounding as they descended into the dark.
The comment roughly translated to, “Leave the door open, or I double the price.”
