War
Zahorimar
Kulthis System
0530 local
His borrowed Action IV transport rested on the duracrete as he methodically donned his armor in the dim light of the main cabin. The cold beskar plates, stained a rusty red and black from a forgotten war in the far reaches of the galactic edge still fit as well as when they were first forged. These plates had given him life, purpose, identity, and hope for the better part of 30 cycles, they were a part of him as much as his skin and bones.
His gauntlets on his hands he donned his helmet last and began strapping his weapons in place before finally slinging his concussion rifle over his shoulder muzzle down. He had never been one to ignore orders before, but he came back to the galaxy to find his family, but what he found was only death. His people had devolved into bickering narcissists with delusions of grandeur. They had lost their way...he would not lose his.
He climbed down the boarding ladder and met the port authority representative at the bottom. A large bribe later and he was allowed to leave the port as a merchant delivering building materials and tools for the local industrial quarter. His ship's cargo hold was full, but it wasn't goods, it was unrefined baridium on a timer and set to trigger early if someone came to unload the ship. That was the distraction.
He wanted to hurt the sith as much as he wanted to hurt his wayward cousins. And he would, or he'd die as he lived, at war.
Kulthis System
0530 local
His borrowed Action IV transport rested on the duracrete as he methodically donned his armor in the dim light of the main cabin. The cold beskar plates, stained a rusty red and black from a forgotten war in the far reaches of the galactic edge still fit as well as when they were first forged. These plates had given him life, purpose, identity, and hope for the better part of 30 cycles, they were a part of him as much as his skin and bones.
His gauntlets on his hands he donned his helmet last and began strapping his weapons in place before finally slinging his concussion rifle over his shoulder muzzle down. He had never been one to ignore orders before, but he came back to the galaxy to find his family, but what he found was only death. His people had devolved into bickering narcissists with delusions of grandeur. They had lost their way...he would not lose his.
He climbed down the boarding ladder and met the port authority representative at the bottom. A large bribe later and he was allowed to leave the port as a merchant delivering building materials and tools for the local industrial quarter. His ship's cargo hold was full, but it wasn't goods, it was unrefined baridium on a timer and set to trigger early if someone came to unload the ship. That was the distraction.
He wanted to hurt the sith as much as he wanted to hurt his wayward cousins. And he would, or he'd die as he lived, at war.