Historian
PELAGON
PELAGAR CITY
Wearing: Acolyte robes (no helmet)
Acier Moonbound
Pelagon, what a perfect world. Anet, of course, hated perfect worlds. They reminded her too much of home. At least there was one blemish to lighten the mood for her; the fleets of the Sith Covenant, armed and packed with hordes of warriors, all ready to embark for the Deep Core. The Scholar would be among them when they did, but first she had other business to attend.
In the waterworld's capital, Pelagar, she was tasked with the security and transport of looted Jedi relics - because yes, of course, Pelagon was once an important world to the Jedi Order. It had produced many of the Order's heroes across the ages, and their legacy was honored in the artifacts and trinkets collected over millennia. Eventually, even a small temple was erected in the fashion of the fabled Jedi Consulars of the First Galactic Republic. Hers was a task most suitable to her academic background, but something caught her attention...
"You there," she barked out to Acier. "Can you help me with this?" A pale blue digit pointed at the box beside her. Large, presumably heavy.
She stood out in her robes as a fellow acolyte from Desevro, though the two had only crossed paths once before on Nar Shaddaa. Of course, Anet didn't remember him at all.
From the ocean waves lifted a massive warship, separating the seawater in a great cascade that rendered the horizon beautiful with the dark sheen of its hull as a backdrop against the clear sky. Quite scenic, if not foreboding of the bloodshed to come. The half-pantoran paid it no mind, though, as she tapped her foot impatiently for Acier to comply. Fellow acolyte or not, she felt herself the one giving orders around here... Not that he had to listen.
PELAGAR CITY
Wearing: Acolyte robes (no helmet)
Acier Moonbound
Pelagon, what a perfect world. Anet, of course, hated perfect worlds. They reminded her too much of home. At least there was one blemish to lighten the mood for her; the fleets of the Sith Covenant, armed and packed with hordes of warriors, all ready to embark for the Deep Core. The Scholar would be among them when they did, but first she had other business to attend.
In the waterworld's capital, Pelagar, she was tasked with the security and transport of looted Jedi relics - because yes, of course, Pelagon was once an important world to the Jedi Order. It had produced many of the Order's heroes across the ages, and their legacy was honored in the artifacts and trinkets collected over millennia. Eventually, even a small temple was erected in the fashion of the fabled Jedi Consulars of the First Galactic Republic. Hers was a task most suitable to her academic background, but something caught her attention...
"You there," she barked out to Acier. "Can you help me with this?" A pale blue digit pointed at the box beside her. Large, presumably heavy.
She stood out in her robes as a fellow acolyte from Desevro, though the two had only crossed paths once before on Nar Shaddaa. Of course, Anet didn't remember him at all.
From the ocean waves lifted a massive warship, separating the seawater in a great cascade that rendered the horizon beautiful with the dark sheen of its hull as a backdrop against the clear sky. Quite scenic, if not foreboding of the bloodshed to come. The half-pantoran paid it no mind, though, as she tapped her foot impatiently for Acier to comply. Fellow acolyte or not, she felt herself the one giving orders around here... Not that he had to listen.