Gilamar Skirata
The most important step is always the next one
Somewhere In Fringe Space
Fringe space was, to say the least, a long way from home. It had taken him more than a couple hyperspace jumps to get there due to it before he realized he could have taken the Hydian Way and up the Sanctuary Pipeline. Regardless the old man had made it into the Fringe Confederation. Someone by the last name Merill had sent a rather peculiar set of packages, including one Leviathan, of which they had no way to control, or put back to sleep. Luckily the beast had been sleeping for several days, peacefully in an undisclosed location until they...desired to send a message. He also heard that the Atrisians had made a rather interesting troop insertion pod, which he was very keen on obtaining for his own forces. He had been told that should he enter Fringe Space this person would find him. He currently wore no armor, instead opting for a beskar weave vest under his own civilian clothes for protection. The Fringe wasn't the "safest" place to be, and many had protested rather strongly that he shouldn't go unprepared, but he didn't want to scream to the entire galaxy that the Mand'alor was visiting the Fringe.
And so he waited, the Lazy Stril humming just outside in the tapcaf's minor starport. Siting in the rickety chair in the rather run down tapcaf he raised the glass of whiskey to his lips, taking a sip before frowning. Why he spent money on this watered down osik was beyond him with his signature beskar flask sitting within reach, just inside his button up shirt, filled with his favorite ne'tra gal. Taking another sip he sighed, his dull, brown eyes scanning the dark room for anyone he thought fit his image of the person he would be dealing with.
@[member="Rave Merrill"]
Fringe space was, to say the least, a long way from home. It had taken him more than a couple hyperspace jumps to get there due to it before he realized he could have taken the Hydian Way and up the Sanctuary Pipeline. Regardless the old man had made it into the Fringe Confederation. Someone by the last name Merill had sent a rather peculiar set of packages, including one Leviathan, of which they had no way to control, or put back to sleep. Luckily the beast had been sleeping for several days, peacefully in an undisclosed location until they...desired to send a message. He also heard that the Atrisians had made a rather interesting troop insertion pod, which he was very keen on obtaining for his own forces. He had been told that should he enter Fringe Space this person would find him. He currently wore no armor, instead opting for a beskar weave vest under his own civilian clothes for protection. The Fringe wasn't the "safest" place to be, and many had protested rather strongly that he shouldn't go unprepared, but he didn't want to scream to the entire galaxy that the Mand'alor was visiting the Fringe.
And so he waited, the Lazy Stril humming just outside in the tapcaf's minor starport. Siting in the rickety chair in the rather run down tapcaf he raised the glass of whiskey to his lips, taking a sip before frowning. Why he spent money on this watered down osik was beyond him with his signature beskar flask sitting within reach, just inside his button up shirt, filled with his favorite ne'tra gal. Taking another sip he sighed, his dull, brown eyes scanning the dark room for anyone he thought fit his image of the person he would be dealing with.
@[member="Rave Merrill"]