J0K-R
Shard. Sith. And silky soft.
The purple-suited Human Replica Droid strolled the grounds of the temple, acclimating himself to his new surroundings. It had been relatively easy to catch a ride in a mail transport, once the Shard had exerted a bit of mental pressure by way of the Force. And a vibro-dagger, and the promise that he'd pay him well and let him live. The transport driver had even let the droid ride in the co-pilot's seat, and had readily accepted the glass of water when the droid offered, which of course was poisoned. Four hours after leaving the Zahati'i Temples, the delivery ship, it's dead driver slumped at the controls, was incinerated in the corona of a sun that it had no way to steer around.
"Snappy," said J0K-R aloud, entering the training room. "I'd better be sure to put on my best face!" His gloved fingers reached up to check the seal of the skin that covered his skull. "That's right, I already did!"
With that, he sat down on the floor in a cross-legged position began whistling a tune he'd once heard in a cantina on Tattooine and waited for his new teacher to arrive.
@[member="Penumbra"]
"Snappy," said J0K-R aloud, entering the training room. "I'd better be sure to put on my best face!" His gloved fingers reached up to check the seal of the skin that covered his skull. "That's right, I already did!"
With that, he sat down on the floor in a cross-legged position began whistling a tune he'd once heard in a cantina on Tattooine and waited for his new teacher to arrive.
@[member="Penumbra"]