Garrion Der Rædwulf
The Lineholder
It hadn't been long since Garrion was tasked with prepping the defenses of Kessel. They'd gotten wind of a fleet from the Final Dawn making their way soon, with the presumed support of the Imperials from Mahporeem. The old General found himself in the planetary mines on the Western half, working to ensure every entrance was manned, every corridor and shaft was trapped, and every last man was stationed.
It wasn't exactly the most... thrilling task, yet, such preparations were necessary, and Garrion was the man to see them happen. It was an adjustment of course, given most of the able-bodied fighters present weren't accustomed to being subordinate to a man with a far more traditional view of military conduct & organization, though it wasn't as if they'd never taken orders in their life. Simply an adjustment.
Still within the command center, Garrion had yet to inspect the ranks individually. Instead he'd focused on the charts, the planning, and the logistics, until eventually he'd grown tired of doing so.
Glancing back at one of the officers, "Everything seems to be in order, I'll entrust you to manage things from here. I wish to inspect the ranks before we move forward with anything else."
Afterwards, Garrion stood, making his way down the nearest corridor, he began observing the assigned units. If they seemed... distracted, he'd remind them of the importance that they remain alert. Never snapping, only providing simple correction.
He didn't require the men to fawn over him, yet also understood it was important his authority not to be undermined by subordinate gossip. His authority ultimately depended on the respect of those he was commanding. So, in order to refrain from either outcome, he attempted to make this transition... less 'jarring'. Starting with treating the droid volunteers like actual people and not walking hunks of metal.
So, it would come to his surprise when he'd end up face-to-face with a rather peculiar looking droid among the rank-in-file (or so he thought at the very least). A being with a metallic, silver looking skin, and a shifting body. The old man simply assumed it to be the result of "nanodroids", or some other rational explanation, unable to help himself from commenting:
"It seems droid technology has advanced since my time, quite an impressive design." To the assistant who'd since been accompanying him, only to pause in surprise when said assistant replied:
"Sir... they're a Polydroxol, not a droid."
The old man was visibly perplexed. "A what?" He asked, glancing between the subordinate and the silver-skinned alien he'd just been introduced to.
Blinking, he continued: "Apologies... I'm simply unfamiliar with your species. Who might you be?" He inquired, tone shifting towards genuine curiosity.
Aperion
It wasn't exactly the most... thrilling task, yet, such preparations were necessary, and Garrion was the man to see them happen. It was an adjustment of course, given most of the able-bodied fighters present weren't accustomed to being subordinate to a man with a far more traditional view of military conduct & organization, though it wasn't as if they'd never taken orders in their life. Simply an adjustment.
Still within the command center, Garrion had yet to inspect the ranks individually. Instead he'd focused on the charts, the planning, and the logistics, until eventually he'd grown tired of doing so.
Glancing back at one of the officers, "Everything seems to be in order, I'll entrust you to manage things from here. I wish to inspect the ranks before we move forward with anything else."
Afterwards, Garrion stood, making his way down the nearest corridor, he began observing the assigned units. If they seemed... distracted, he'd remind them of the importance that they remain alert. Never snapping, only providing simple correction.
He didn't require the men to fawn over him, yet also understood it was important his authority not to be undermined by subordinate gossip. His authority ultimately depended on the respect of those he was commanding. So, in order to refrain from either outcome, he attempted to make this transition... less 'jarring'. Starting with treating the droid volunteers like actual people and not walking hunks of metal.
So, it would come to his surprise when he'd end up face-to-face with a rather peculiar looking droid among the rank-in-file (or so he thought at the very least). A being with a metallic, silver looking skin, and a shifting body. The old man simply assumed it to be the result of "nanodroids", or some other rational explanation, unable to help himself from commenting:
"It seems droid technology has advanced since my time, quite an impressive design." To the assistant who'd since been accompanying him, only to pause in surprise when said assistant replied:
"Sir... they're a Polydroxol, not a droid."
The old man was visibly perplexed. "A what?" He asked, glancing between the subordinate and the silver-skinned alien he'd just been introduced to.
Blinking, he continued: "Apologies... I'm simply unfamiliar with your species. Who might you be?" He inquired, tone shifting towards genuine curiosity.
Aperion