Gilamar Skirata
The most important step is always the next one
The sound of a hammer rang throughout the armory of the Skirata homestead on Mandalore as Gilimar hammered out dents in Mordecai's armor. The man was too rough on his gear, probably due to his own lack of self preservation in combat. As the durasteel sat and warmed up again for another round of beating JC-19 waddled up to him.
"Good morning sir!" the DUM droid said in its unusually chipper voice. "Those guys from AAAAARRRRRRGH, are calling now!"
"Kark..." Gil had forgotten about them. Thinking quickly he turned off the heat treater and wiped his hands on the white apron and with the back of his hand wiped the sweat off his face, leaving a black smudge in both places. With his hands still black as night he walked to the center of the room, a rag in hand, and switched on the holoprojector.
It was conference time.
He had a very simple offer, a large and continuous supply of ARGH's personal jet systems for future armor projects, and one for the up and coming Galactic Alliance that he was more recently a benefactor of.
[member="Siobhan Kerrigan"]
"Good morning sir!" the DUM droid said in its unusually chipper voice. "Those guys from AAAAARRRRRRGH, are calling now!"
"Kark..." Gil had forgotten about them. Thinking quickly he turned off the heat treater and wiped his hands on the white apron and with the back of his hand wiped the sweat off his face, leaving a black smudge in both places. With his hands still black as night he walked to the center of the room, a rag in hand, and switched on the holoprojector.
It was conference time.
He had a very simple offer, a large and continuous supply of ARGH's personal jet systems for future armor projects, and one for the up and coming Galactic Alliance that he was more recently a benefactor of.
[member="Siobhan Kerrigan"]