Bido Roz’lyn
“No, I’m a pinniped, not a canine, thank you…”
A trail of smoke billowed from the rear of Bido's little BZ-Ceptor as she began to shed more speed in the final stages of her atmospheric descent. The fuselage rocked back and forth slightly within the allowed slop between the lockdown pins she had installed to prevent it from spinning freely in the now faulty rotating collar.
She was so tired of fixing this damn thing…
As the clouds peeled away from her canopy, she beheld the expansive scrapyards of Mahporeem's primary industry. Ships from every era and vintage over the past one thousand years littered the scene in what appeared to Bido to be a form of "organized chaos". To a critical eye, one could see the patterns of how hulks of rotting ships had been dragged around for different stages of salvage or attempted restorations. In one particular "neighborhood" she could even see skeletal remains of her people's fabled Braha'tok Gunships. It reminded her that being neighbors, her people and the mahporieem had something of a shared history.
Over 900 years ago, her people had chosen this planet as the battleground to keep the Empire at an arm's length from Dornea. Using gorilla strikes, raids, and attempted rescues, the goal had been to force the Empire to focus on fortifying their position here, rather than subduing the rebel cell on Dornea. The plan worked, allowing the Dorneans to compensate for the disparity of strength between their navy and the Imperial fleet. They were able to keep the empire off Dornea long enough for the Mon Calamari to eventually bring in their massive cruisers and drive out the Empire once and for all with a single assault. While many tactical battles had been lost here, to the Dornean rebels, the Mahporeem campaign had been hailed as a massive strategic success. However, many Dorneans had been captured and enslaved by the Empire here in the battles that were lost. As a result, once the slaves had been freed, a notable percentage of the people on this planet had been noted as Dornean.
An icon appeared over a landing pad through her knock-off brand ear clickers indicating where she was supposed to land. Careful not to rock the fuselage too hard into her makeshift lockout pins, she guided the old pile of junk down to a relatively smooth landing. Upon touching down, she was quick to extinguish her engines and choke off her reactors to keep the smoke from building into a genuine fire. With some effort, she pried open her canopy latch, and then slouched down as low as she could in her seat, working her legs up onto the dash. Once her back was pressed against the bottom of her flight chair, she coiled up her legs and then kick them up as hard as she could against the glass of her canopy. It flew open so hard it almost bounced back closed upon hitting the limit of the hinges. Clambering awkwardly, she struggled her way out of the cockpit, stood on the nose of her fighter, and leapt to the ground below.
She then looked around the landing pad, wondering who had just seen her embarrassing egress…
Ronhar Tane
She was so tired of fixing this damn thing…
As the clouds peeled away from her canopy, she beheld the expansive scrapyards of Mahporeem's primary industry. Ships from every era and vintage over the past one thousand years littered the scene in what appeared to Bido to be a form of "organized chaos". To a critical eye, one could see the patterns of how hulks of rotting ships had been dragged around for different stages of salvage or attempted restorations. In one particular "neighborhood" she could even see skeletal remains of her people's fabled Braha'tok Gunships. It reminded her that being neighbors, her people and the mahporieem had something of a shared history.
Over 900 years ago, her people had chosen this planet as the battleground to keep the Empire at an arm's length from Dornea. Using gorilla strikes, raids, and attempted rescues, the goal had been to force the Empire to focus on fortifying their position here, rather than subduing the rebel cell on Dornea. The plan worked, allowing the Dorneans to compensate for the disparity of strength between their navy and the Imperial fleet. They were able to keep the empire off Dornea long enough for the Mon Calamari to eventually bring in their massive cruisers and drive out the Empire once and for all with a single assault. While many tactical battles had been lost here, to the Dornean rebels, the Mahporeem campaign had been hailed as a massive strategic success. However, many Dorneans had been captured and enslaved by the Empire here in the battles that were lost. As a result, once the slaves had been freed, a notable percentage of the people on this planet had been noted as Dornean.
An icon appeared over a landing pad through her knock-off brand ear clickers indicating where she was supposed to land. Careful not to rock the fuselage too hard into her makeshift lockout pins, she guided the old pile of junk down to a relatively smooth landing. Upon touching down, she was quick to extinguish her engines and choke off her reactors to keep the smoke from building into a genuine fire. With some effort, she pried open her canopy latch, and then slouched down as low as she could in her seat, working her legs up onto the dash. Once her back was pressed against the bottom of her flight chair, she coiled up her legs and then kick them up as hard as she could against the glass of her canopy. It flew open so hard it almost bounced back closed upon hitting the limit of the hinges. Clambering awkwardly, she struggled her way out of the cockpit, stood on the nose of her fighter, and leapt to the ground below.
She then looked around the landing pad, wondering who had just seen her embarrassing egress…
Ronhar Tane
