Jorga the Hutt
When life gives you Mandos, make Mando'ade
Connory sat in a meditative posture, in a room like any other room, on a world like any other world. Before him sat two objects: a rock, and a backpack. His goal was to put the rock inside the backpack.
The backpack, to be fair, was no ordinary backpack. It was made of metal: the finest Mandalorian steel. Heavy sucker, but not as heavy and not nearly as bulky as a ysalamir nutrient frame. Connory half-rose and gripped it by one strap, then hefted it, gauging the mass. Yes, this backpack would suffice. Inside was room for various supplies, to be sure, but the main function of the backpack was to hold the rock.
To be fair, the rock was no ordinary rock either. Black, a bit crumbly around the edges, but solid throughout the core, it constituted one of the most expensive substances in the universe. A massive lump of this stuff had been found on Kayri some years ago, but the Lords of the Fringe had spirited it away. Connory suspected a connection to that rarest of research materials, Velokite.
One rock, one backpack. If this went well, it could change everything.
The backpack, to be fair, was no ordinary backpack. It was made of metal: the finest Mandalorian steel. Heavy sucker, but not as heavy and not nearly as bulky as a ysalamir nutrient frame. Connory half-rose and gripped it by one strap, then hefted it, gauging the mass. Yes, this backpack would suffice. Inside was room for various supplies, to be sure, but the main function of the backpack was to hold the rock.
To be fair, the rock was no ordinary rock either. Black, a bit crumbly around the edges, but solid throughout the core, it constituted one of the most expensive substances in the universe. A massive lump of this stuff had been found on Kayri some years ago, but the Lords of the Fringe had spirited it away. Connory suspected a connection to that rarest of research materials, Velokite.
One rock, one backpack. If this went well, it could change everything.