A lot has been racing through Andreas's mind lately. Due to his recent...losses, he's been spending time reflecting on his battles, looking back at what moves and tactics worked and what failed. An oncoming X-wing veers out of the way as Andreas flies past, the pilot probably cursing the name of all Diathim behind the tinted screen of her cockpit. The vacationing bounty hunter looks over his shoulder to watch the ship fly off into the distance and disappear into deep space, a thought suddenly resurfacing itself in his mind. If all else fails, he could always start building on those old blueprints. He would. In fact, the planet he's heading to has a vital component of the project he's working on.
As Rysill II comes further into view, the demi-diathim sharply re-angles his quad set of wings and dives headfirst into the planet's atmosphere. Anyone seeing him from below could mistake the man for a shooting star based on his attire. In sooth, a man of his trade, Andreas did not go anywhere with at least some form of armor. Despite his natural resistances, nothing could protect him from a stupid mistake. That said, he was lightly armored today, wearing what could be described as a jet-black bodyglove with pure white shoulder pads that made the shoulders stick out like a suit jacket. This white portion is ever present on the upper half of the bodyglove, reaching up to form a neck covering collar and then down to end at a point below the chest, causing it to overall resemble a white upside down triangle. Other than that, the only other white on the otherwise black suit is the light utility belt, which hold a few mischellaneous things and the plasteel gauntlets and boots. Everything on the suit was pristine and the metal was impeccably polished to the point where a person could mistake him for a stereotypical holocomic hero minus the cape. The resilient material holds it's own agains the planet's thermosphere as Andreas passes through it.
As soon as he passes through the layer of clouds, Andreas beholds the beautiful sight of the landscape below him. He chokes back a tear as he is reminded of his own homeworld. Suddenly, he picks up on the coordinates of a formidable force user nearby. He's been wanting to take on able opponents lately to cool his head. His best and most relaxing moments are when he's fighting. The battlefield is the only place he feels comfortable after all. Changing direction with a slight shift in his wing angle, he lands near the source of the signature, @[member="Yasuo"], crossing his arms as he folds his wings, the featureless appendages disappearing from view as he does so.
"You seem to be an able warrior. May I request a small sparring session?"