Sorin Vanado
Character
[member="Gaila'Rae"]
Ah, Coruscant...this was a destination he has been waiting for, for quite some time. As he walked across the platform, blending and moving with the crowd, he could feel the buzz and hum of the planet for the first time. His reception to the Force was growing, and with the Sith having taken the planet, it would only be a matter of time before he found them. Now, however, was a time for something else. The mercenary group of the YT-2000 he stole got their instructions from off this planet, and it would be like looking for a needle in a haysack to find the one who had sent them the message. A nearly impossible task with the lack of information Sorin had obtained, but it wasn't looking that was the problem. No, that was just the icing on the cake, and he didn't know how large that cake was. For what he would find, that was the problem. He didn't know anything about the client, and with that, he could not yet determine how over his head he was. Or maybe he wasn't, and he was just over thinking things. In his line of business, however, it is better to overestimate the enemy, and kill them completely and utterly. Obliteration.
Now...where to begin? The captain of the YT-2000 he killed wore Mandalorian armor, but was not a true Mandalorian. It would be best to ask them directly, because if there was one thing Sorin could rely on, it was that Mandalorians will fight to the death and to the ends of the galaxy to honor their fallen. And so, Sorin headed to the districts they most frequented, and hoped he didn't get shot in the process. He eventually found himself in an armory, and when he stepped through the door, the room went silent. Or as silent as could be, with the sounds of machinery, droids, and men working on armor. There were several people in the room, men and women, of different races, and different sizes, and all of them very, very well armed. 'Careful, Sorin, or you'll be leaving here in a body bag.' As skilled as Sorin knew he was, this was going to really push it. An advantage, he does not have. He strode over to the counter as confidently as he could, and the one at front had a smirk on his face. A Togorian, from the looks of it. His stance was slouched, unworried, but he was ready, a wall of muscle and skill in his arms.
"What brings an aruetii to our aliit? Assuming you know what I mean." He said gruffly, and laughed, causing a similar outburst to echo through the room from the others there. Apparently some of them thought it was funny that there were many who were ignorant of their culture. At least that would be the standard person.
"Aliit ori'shya tal'din." Sorin replied, and he was confident of his pronunciation. The Togorian's eyes widened, and he immediately straightened up, making Sorin distinctively aware of how tall he was compared to Sorin's height. There was no more laughter in the room. Good, he had made his point, so that they knew that the one who stood before them was not an idiot. Sorin withdrew a datapad from his obi top, and placed it down on the counter, the image being of the Mandalorian armor back on his ship, minus the person of course. "I need to know who this armor belonged to, because the one who had it was not Mando'ade." As the Togorian looked over the datapad, he grimaced, and scowled, angry over this information, but he continued to view the image, looking it over. "I tracked his last destination to be here on this part of the planet, but I know little else than that. I want to know where he came from."
"What does it matter to you?"
"Because we both know the fallen deserve more respect." This made him think, looking back and forth from the image to Sorin, and then back. His features softened momentarily.
"I would need the armor to be certain."
"You'll have it within the hour."
Ah, Coruscant...this was a destination he has been waiting for, for quite some time. As he walked across the platform, blending and moving with the crowd, he could feel the buzz and hum of the planet for the first time. His reception to the Force was growing, and with the Sith having taken the planet, it would only be a matter of time before he found them. Now, however, was a time for something else. The mercenary group of the YT-2000 he stole got their instructions from off this planet, and it would be like looking for a needle in a haysack to find the one who had sent them the message. A nearly impossible task with the lack of information Sorin had obtained, but it wasn't looking that was the problem. No, that was just the icing on the cake, and he didn't know how large that cake was. For what he would find, that was the problem. He didn't know anything about the client, and with that, he could not yet determine how over his head he was. Or maybe he wasn't, and he was just over thinking things. In his line of business, however, it is better to overestimate the enemy, and kill them completely and utterly. Obliteration.
Now...where to begin? The captain of the YT-2000 he killed wore Mandalorian armor, but was not a true Mandalorian. It would be best to ask them directly, because if there was one thing Sorin could rely on, it was that Mandalorians will fight to the death and to the ends of the galaxy to honor their fallen. And so, Sorin headed to the districts they most frequented, and hoped he didn't get shot in the process. He eventually found himself in an armory, and when he stepped through the door, the room went silent. Or as silent as could be, with the sounds of machinery, droids, and men working on armor. There were several people in the room, men and women, of different races, and different sizes, and all of them very, very well armed. 'Careful, Sorin, or you'll be leaving here in a body bag.' As skilled as Sorin knew he was, this was going to really push it. An advantage, he does not have. He strode over to the counter as confidently as he could, and the one at front had a smirk on his face. A Togorian, from the looks of it. His stance was slouched, unworried, but he was ready, a wall of muscle and skill in his arms.
"What brings an aruetii to our aliit? Assuming you know what I mean." He said gruffly, and laughed, causing a similar outburst to echo through the room from the others there. Apparently some of them thought it was funny that there were many who were ignorant of their culture. At least that would be the standard person.
"Aliit ori'shya tal'din." Sorin replied, and he was confident of his pronunciation. The Togorian's eyes widened, and he immediately straightened up, making Sorin distinctively aware of how tall he was compared to Sorin's height. There was no more laughter in the room. Good, he had made his point, so that they knew that the one who stood before them was not an idiot. Sorin withdrew a datapad from his obi top, and placed it down on the counter, the image being of the Mandalorian armor back on his ship, minus the person of course. "I need to know who this armor belonged to, because the one who had it was not Mando'ade." As the Togorian looked over the datapad, he grimaced, and scowled, angry over this information, but he continued to view the image, looking it over. "I tracked his last destination to be here on this part of the planet, but I know little else than that. I want to know where he came from."
"What does it matter to you?"
"Because we both know the fallen deserve more respect." This made him think, looking back and forth from the image to Sorin, and then back. His features softened momentarily.
"I would need the armor to be certain."
"You'll have it within the hour."